#yes cap sleeps with their eyes open :)

[dottedmage]

drawings related to @rainfallbeats ask posts, the school au has been in my mind all day also marie! bc why wouldnt i

i think frye is a beast in the kitchen, she will be doing like 7 things all at the same time and when she has to Wait for Stuff before she goes back to cooking and baking at mach 5 she just stands there, nothing in the brain

[peachesofteal]

Simon Riley / female reader Secret baby trope / 18+ Previous

Simon appreciates where Kyle has decided to put down some roots.

He likes this part of the city. It's busy, but manageable, and Kyle's managed to find himself a decently sized home, one big enough to accommodate both Simon and Johnny when they're on those swing days between missions. There are enough beds or couches for when the three of them get pissed at the pub down the street and have to stumble back nearly crossed eyed.

Of course, he never talks about the other reason why he finds this neighborhood so charming, but he suspects both the boys know.

He likes to hold onto your memory like a little secret. Knowing you're possibly still living in this area, in that flat, is enough to bring him out to the pub after they all get back to the house and crash.

Kyle's mouth twists into a mischievous smirk, and he glances at Johnny before honing his sights. "Fancy a drink, LT?"

It's been just under a year since Simon has been here. He rubs his palms against the bar top, trying to casually glance around, searching for something he knows he won't find. He can still hear you, still smell you, still feel your skin against his. He's spent the last year jumping from mission to mission, country to country, plane to plane- and above the carnage and the sounds of killing and fighting-

he still hears your voice. His name on your lips. When he closes his eyes to go to bed at night, it’s your face he sees, lulling him to sleep.

A fantasy.

"Did ye get her number, at least?" Johnny interrupts his memories, and Simon shakes his head.

“Better off that way.” He rolls his shoulders, stretching sinew and bone, trying to force his body to relax. It’s always like this, between ops. He’s stuck in fight mode, wires all crossed, head still fuzzy. Every now and then, his ears will ring, and he tries shake it loose, echoes of gunfire popping inside his skull.

He chooses to drown it out.

All three of them do. It works well enough, and they stumble back to Kyle’s, taking their respective places strewn across the house, Simon falling asleep face down in the guest bed without another drunken thought.

The sun cracks through the blinds too quickly. He stomachs a tea, and advises the Sergeants he’s heading back early to wrap up some paperwork, and steps out onto the street.

It’s later than he’d like, sidewalk already bustling with throngs of people, and he pulls his nondescript black ball cap farther down over his face. The sun is warm, glaring onto the back of his neck until his jacket almost feels claustrophobic. His hands fall idle as he walks, so used to holding a weapon or clicking the mic open on a radio, he doesn’t know what to do with them at rest. Doesn’t know how to hold them. There’s a void there, a void everywhere, etched into his skin, a whisper of the man he should’ve been.

The sidewalk may be busy, but he doesn’t miss a face. He never does, it’s a part of the job, but when his eyes glance across a woman who looks just like you- his entire life stutters to a stop.

You have a baby strapped to your chest. A chubby, round baby who kicks their feet when you lower your head to murmur something to them, palm flat against their belly.

You have a baby? You have a baby. There’s a pang of sadness in his heart, a swell of disappointment as he rationalizes what he’s seeing, the proof of you belonging to someone else, having a life with someone else, loving someone else. He only had you for a night, and he knows it, but he can’t pretend he hasn’t been seeing your face every time he closes his eyes for the past year.

It’s closure. A final nail in the coffin. The end of something that never was.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers, a sunny spring day, a bouquet of overflowing flowers. Does your hair still smell the same? Would you still make the same noises for him?

Reality brings him back to life earth. Are you in love, or married, or with the father?

And then you turn his direction, closing the gap, failing to notice him standing like a stiff board in the middle of the sidewalk until you’re too close, eyes darting up and up-

to meet his.

Your mouth drops open. An ocean of people flow around where you’re both frozen in place, and he gives you a sheepish smile. “Uh, hey.”

Your hand cups the back of the baby’s head, and you look panicked, scared, before you blurt out the one thing he didn’t expect:

“I didn’t know how to contact you.”

Wait… what?

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter twenty five ⭐︎ Who could stay? You could stay

Warnings: none really, just a lot of fluff, a bittersweet ending, lots of love and tooth rotting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You and Steve take another step and move into a whole new chapter.

Word count: 8.5k

Author's note: this is it, guys. this is the last chapter, all we got is an epilogue coming and thats it, the story is nearly over! It's been six months of dwoht!!!! six months of plotting and writing with @hellfire--cult ily roe, thank you for doing this with me ♡

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

Moving boxes litter your entire house, some are in the hallway, the kitchen and the living room, some already emptied, some of them are still unopened, sealed with duct tape. Most boxes are in your bedroom though, yours and Steve’s bedroom. 

David Bowie’s voice sounds through the speakers, the wind that blows through your open window touches your bare skin, you are only wearing a t-shirt of his, your hair is pulled up in a scrunchie that he picked out for you when you went shopping together, your knees dig into the soft carpet beneath you as you sort through his movie and comic collection, taking them out of the box and stacking them up on your shelf where you had already made space for him. You were honestly a little surprised to find the Captain America comic books in one of his drawers back at his house, he never mentioned them nor did you see him ever holding a comic book in his hand but apparently he only liked them when he was a kid and he grew out of his ‘nerdy’ phase when he turned thirteen. Sure. He told you not to pack them, he told you he doesn’t need them anymore but you saw the look in his eyes, the comfort that teenage boy got from getting lost in a world of superheroes, so you packed them into the box and now they’re finding home on your shelf, ready for him to reach whenever. 

You don’t feel his eyes on you at this moment, you are too focused on the memories he packed, on the pictures you find next, of the teens, of Robin and Eddie, of his parents and some of his from his childhood, pictures of you. 

Steve had never felt more at peace than he does now, standing in your now shared bedroom, he is sorting through his clothes, placing them on the hangers and into your closet, he is sneaking glances at you, wearing the biggest smile on his face. Your hair is falling out of the scrunchie, his shirt is riding up on your thighs, a soft look resides in your eyes and on your lips as you flip through the pictures he took to his new home. His heart skips strongly as he looks at you, he’s got everything he ever wanted, absolutely everything. 

When you asked him to move in with you after only two weeks of dating, he didn’t waste a second to say ‘yes’, perhaps he even sounded a little too desperate when that word left his lips but he couldn’t help it. He hated to be away from you, even more so than before, when you weren’t dating yet. He didn’t want to spend a second without you, and neither did you. You clung to each other from the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend, not a single night was spent without the other. You ate breakfast, lunch and dinner together, you showered together and cuddled on the couch in front of the tv, every night. You never went to sleep without one another, so ‘why wait?’, you said before you asked him. 

He had no trouble leaving his house, it was only ever home because of you and he felt more at home here than he ever did back there. He felt no sadness to leave it behind, only excitement and happiness to enter this chapter of your life together. 

Steve looks at the polaroid camera next to your bed, feeling the urge to keep this moment not only in his memory but also in a picture. He places his yellow sweater into your closet before he makes his way over to the nightstand, he picks up the camera and turns it on, removing the cap leans, he tip toes closer to you and kneels down, squinting one eye shut as he aims the camera at you and he captures a perfect moment. 

A look of surprise flashes in your features, your brows are pulled up, your lips parted as you stare at the notes in your hand, the notes that fell out of the little notebook that you can only assume to be from his days at school. You didn’t mean to open it or even look inside, it could be a diary, after all. But the notes fell out when you took it out of the box. 

You blink, once, twice. You feel as though your eyes are betraying you as you read the words on the white paper. The ink is a little faded, but you can still see every letter clearly. 

Your heart is skipping in your chest. 

What are you looking at perv?

Your handwriting. 

Your note. 

You remember that day, you remember how you caught him staring at you, throughout the whole class, the hopeless girl in you was blushing but… the teenage you was annoyed, thinking that he was just messing with you, thinking that he somehow found out about your crush on him and decided to tease you, to play with you. 

You put the note down on your lap and read the other. 

Very funny, are you running out of girls to flirt with, King Steve?

You don’t even hear the clicking sound of the camera, you pay no mind to the flash going off either. You are too surprised by what you see as you keep flipping through the notes that he kept, the ones he kept for years, back when he didn’t even like you.

You flinch in surprise when you feel a pair of arms around your waist but quickly relax and melt into him, into his embrace, into his warm touch. Your lips curl into a smile when his own press soft kisses to your neck, whispering into your skin. 

“King Steve was an idiot, wasn’t he? He couldn’t throw away these notes but still kept acting like a dick to you.” 

The thought of him struggling to throw your notes into the trash, makes your chest swell with warmth. 

You tilt your head back to face your boyfriend, you place the notes down and wrap your hand around his wrist. 

“Did… you keep them on purpose?” You ask as for a moment, you thought that he might’ve forgotten them. 

“I did, my heart just didn’t allow me to throw them away.”  

You chuckle at his words and shake your head, “yeah, sure.” 

“It’s true, honey!” He exclaims, squeezing your waist. 

You flinch in surprise, a giggle falling from your lips as you hold his wrists tighter. 

“It always knew who it belonged to.” He whispers with no humor in his voice, just genuine honesty, because it’s true, his heart knew, it always knew. 

“You’re such a sap, Steve Harrington,” you say, though with nothing but a wide smile on your lips. 

“Yeah, I’m your sap,” he grins, clinging tighter to your waist, he nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing you in and kissing you there, feeling his heart swelling in excitement, in love as he thinks of his future now, a future he thought he would only ever dream of, a future you both want, with one another. He will get to wake beside you every morning, with you in his arms, greeted by your soft touch, by your sweet kisses, he will get to sit at the breakfast table with you, write the grocery list with you while you enjoy your morning coffee, he will kiss you before leaving for work and he will come home, not to an empty house like he used to, no, he will come to you, his home. 

You cup the side of his face when you tilt your head back, chasing his lips with your own, you both giggle when your noses bump together before your mouths touch and you both get lost in the sweet kiss you can never get enough of. 

His feelings grow stronger and stronger, each passing second, they get bigger and brighter, evolving into something he never thought was even possible to feel, something bigger than love, something he can’t even describe with words, even if he tried to but he feels like the happiest man in the world – in the fucking universe. 

He feels bonded to you, he belongs to you and you to him. 

He pulls away from the kiss with an even bigger smile on his face than before, he caresses your cheek and looks into your eyes, “I think… no, I know,” he corrects himself, pressing his lips to yours once more, “you’re my soulmate.”

A soft giggle escapes you, you tilt your head to the side and move closer to him. Staring at the loving look in his hazel eyes, the relaxed and happy smile he now constantly wears. 

“You really think–”

He cuts you off with a kiss to your lips, “I know so,” he whispers against your mouth, “my heart knows, I know.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper and wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck, crawling into his lap, he happily pulls you tighter against him. “I love the sound of that.”

“I chose you.”

“Oh, did you?” You giggle. “We weren’t made for each other? You just chose me? That’s how it works?” 

Steve squeezes your waist, moving one hand up your body, he cradles your face again and tucks your hair behind your ear, leaning in to kiss your cheek, “oh honey, I think we were made with each other, but I still chose you,” he whispers in confidence, though struggling to word his feelings, his beliefs correctly. 

You gaze into his eyes, trying to make sense of his words, though your mind can follow, your heart understands. 

“Well, I chose you back, Steve Harrington.”

He smiles and he can’t hold back from kissing you again, kissing the love of his life, kissing you until he can no longer breathe. 

Neither of you heard the car pull up into your driveway, or the slam of the front door, or the loud ‘hello’. You are too caught up in each other, in the kiss, in the perfect touches. 

“Guys?” Eddie’s voice sounds through the house, “I brought food!”

You are the first to pull away, giggling when he frowns at you and chases after your lips, pecking them once more. 

“He brought food.”

“Mhmm, I’d rather eat something else right now,” he murmurs and trails his kisses down to your neck, holding your waist tighter when you try to move away. 

Your stomach flips, skin growing warm beneath his hands and his lips, “l-later, Stevie…” You stutter, trying to control your breathing when his lips find that one spot.

“Guys, stop fucking or I swear to Ozzy, I’m gonna come upstairs and–”

“Alright, alright!” Your boyfriend yells out to him, chuckling, “we’re coming!” 

“We so are coming,” you giggle into his ear, kissing his cheek before you pull away from him, amused by the groan that falls from his lips, “later.” 

His hands fall from your waist as you stand up and walk over to your dresser to grab a pair of shorts to wear, not wanting to flash your best friend by accident. 

Steve gets up as well, though his eyes never leave your form, they’re glued on your butt. He licks his lips as he watches you bend over, those silky pink panties look so perfect to rip off… later. He nearly groans again when you pull your black shorts over them. Coming up from behind, he grabs a handful of your ass, earning a squeal from you that only makes him grin when you look back at him. 

“You’re obsessed,” you snort and swat his hand away weakly. 

“With you? Yes, I am,” he smiles proudly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and starts leading you out into the hallway. 

“No, with my ass.”

At that, he grabs your ass again, giving it a squeeze, “that too.”

Your giggle echoes through the hallway, and your best friend instantly looks up at the sound of that, standing in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by Steve’s boxes, with two bags of takeout and a confused frown on his face. 

“Hey guys.” 

“Hi Eds,” you smile at your best friend.

Steve greets him happily, a big smile resting on his face, Eddie isn’t sure if he has ever seen him like this but ever since you two started dating, Steve hasn’t stopped smiling and you are just the same, you’re basically skipping down the stairs, your eyes are shining, your skin is glowing, you are the happiest you have ever been. 

You and Steve found each other. 

Two pieces that always belonged together. 

Two pieces that became one. 

Eddie’s eyes move back to all the boxes in your hallway, the handwriting on them is unmistakably Steve’s. 

“So uh, what’s all this?” He asks, he has an idea of what this is but a part of him believes that he is just mistaking something. 

You and Steve glance at each other, eyes lighting up even more, lips curling into even bigger smiles. You bite your lip and turn back to Eddie. 

“Steve is moving in!” 

Eddie’s brown eyes grow wide, his lips part in surprise and he nearly drops both bags of takeout, he stares between you two with an expression on his face that nearly makes you both laugh. 

He looks around again, catching a glimpse of Steve’s favorite armchair now standing in your living room, along with an opened box, a blanket falling out of it, the one that always decorated the big couch in the living room back at his house. 

Clearly, you aren’t joking. 

He squints his eyes as he looks back at the two of you, watching the way your boyfriend pulls you back into his chest, his arms slowly moving around your waist. 

“Uh, aren’t you guys moving a little too quickly?” He asks, looking between you both bewildered. 

You and Steve turn to face one another, you both smile, gazing into each other’s eyes for a moment. His flash with… mischief as his hand begins to travel south, settling on your lower belly. 

You both turn back to the metalhead. 

“Nah,” you speak in unison. 

Eddie blinks, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Steve. 

“We uh… sort of cooked a little nugget… a little too soon,” Steve explains, biting back his laugh. 

You press your lips together as you stare at your best friend. You place your hand over Steve’s and lean your head back on his shoulder, melting into him when he kisses your temple. 

If Eddie’s eyes could grow any wider, they would. He blinks a few times before he closes his eyes completely, shaking his head, his curls bounce. He furrows his brows so strongly, he looks as though he is in pain. He opens his eyes again and takes a deep breath, he looks at your serious face, at his and then at Steve’s large hand covering your stomach protectively. 

Little nugget. 

You and Steve wait patiently for his reaction. 

“Jesus Christ! You horny fuckers don’t know how to use protection!?” He exclaims, raising his arms up, the paper bags in his hands rustle. You’re surprised they didn’t rip yet with the way he is flailing his arms around. “A little nugget!? What the– I need to sit down.” 

Steve snorts quietly, amused by the shock on his face. 

“Oh, this is crazy,” Eddie sighs, like a shocked father whose teenage girl just revealed her accidental pregnancy. 

You can no longer hold it in, bursting into laughter, you infect Steve with it too. His arms tighten around you as you laugh at your best friend. 

Eddie’s eyebrows rise up now, his jaw dropping slightly as he finally catches on. 

“You really fell for it,” you giggle, blinking back the tears of amusement. 

“Can you blame me!?” Eddie nearly yells, pointing at you and Steve, “you’re at it like some goddamn rabbits! Besides, we all know about his breeding kink!”

Your giggles might not ever die down today, Steve’s red cheeks make this moment even better. 

“Dude,” he groans. 

“It’s true,” Eddie snorts as he relaxes again, coming down from the shock. 

“It is,” you nod. 

Eddie opens his mouth again, though his smile quickly falls and he scrunches his nose when he looks between you both, a smirk now pulling at Steve’s lips. 

“Oh… okay, yeah uh, let’s change the topic,” he shakes his head again, holding up his hand as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Alright, well, there are no nuggets on the way yet, so you can relax.” 

Eddie nods, chuckling to himself. 

“Yeah, so uh… are you guys hungry?” 

You look down at the bags in his hand, only now registering the smell of fries, your mouth waters and your stomach feels empty, all of a sudden. 

You nod and open your mouth, but before you or Steve can respond, a knock on the door interrupts you. 

Eddie turns to the door before he looks back at you, brown eyes flicking back and forth between yours and your boyfriends, “are you expecting anyone?” He asks, placing the takeout bags on the dresser. 

You and Steve both shrug. 

“Not really,” you mumble. 

Eddie steps forward and opens the door, stepping aside to let you see who is standing on the other side. 

“Oh, hello ladies,” Eddie grins, waving at the little girl in Max’s arms. 

Your eyes light up in excitement, a warm smile graces your face when you see your niece who is babbling away, waving with her little arms and tugging at Max’s hair who doesn’t even flinch. 

“Oh my god,” you nearly squeal, leaving your boyfriend’s embrace, you make your way over to the two girls, “hi! Come here, princess!” You grin, lifting your arms up, giggling when Francine squeaks at the sight of you, making grabby hands before you take her from Max’s arms. 

“I missed you so much, Francis!” You whisper and tickle her side, kissing her chubby cheek. 

Steve’s heart flutters, a sweet smile tugs at his lips, his cheeks turn rosy and he feels warm all over. Every time he sees you holding your niece, he can’t help but picture you with your own little family. He takes a few steps forward, wrapping his arm around you and taking Francine’s tiny hand, “hi angel,” he whispers, cooing at her when she gets jumpy in your arms, excited to see him. He tickles her belly, making the little girl giggle, “you got so much bigger since the last time!” 

Max furrows her brows, not knowing about the day you and Steve babysat Francine together. She chuckles when your niece clasps her tiny hand around his finger. 

“Hi guys!” Your sister finally catches up, walking into the house, car keys in one hand and pizza boxes in the other. She stops next to Max, and nudges her shoulder against hers, “I ran into Max downtown when I stopped by to get some pizza!” She explains, placing the boxes on the dresser next to Eddie’s takeout bags, “oh, you got takeout already.”

“Yep, I got some fries and burgers for Blondie and boyfriend over here,” Eddie grins teasingly, knowing that you haven’t introduced him as your boyfriend to her in person yet, you didn’t get the chance to until now, she only just came back from her vacation. 

Max snickers at your flustered expression, her and Eddie share a look, both amused by the way you’re trying to hide your face in Steve’s chest which only prompts Francine to grab a handful of his shirt, making him chuckle. 

“Oh right,” your sister grins, looking between you two as she makes her way over to you, already opening her arms so she can greet you properly. 

Steve lets go of you but Francine doesn’t let him step away, she still holds his finger tightly, making both him and Eddie chuckle when she stares up at him with her big eyes, babbling away. 

“She’s just like her auntie,” Eddie comments, laughing when you shoot him a playful glare over your sister’s shoulder. 

“How are you, Daisy?” Your sister smiles, squeezing you tightly before pulling away. 

You see the teasing look in her eyes when she glances at your boyfriend behind you.

“I’m good,” you reply, unable to do it without a smile, something that makes the look in your sister’s eyes soften because it’s the first genuine ‘I’m good’ that she heard from you in years. You always lied to her about your true feelings, never letting her in, never giving her the words she wanted to hear from you, you kept it all to yourself, not wanting to ‘share’ your misery with the people around you. 

She never got through to you, no matter how hard she tried, she never succeeded, but the people in this room did – Eddie and Max did, they gave you back that smile that she missed seeing on your face, they broke you out of that little shell, you were so comfortable in for the past years. 

And Steve, he… gave you everything. 

You are more than just good. You are happy, happy in a way you have never been before. The walls around you have crumbled completely, the look in your eyes is one of love and contentment, your skin is glowing, your eyes are shining, you are just… happy. 

“So… are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend properly this time?” She teases, only having heard from you about it all on the phone. 

Your cheeks grow hot, you know how long she had been waiting for this moment, always teasing and hoping for you to finally fall in love – as though you weren’t hopeless for years already, she was pointing out cute guys for you to date, not knowing that there was only one you had your eyes set on. 

“Twinkie–”

“You know that’s not my name,” your sister interrupts you with a glare, making you and Max chuckle. 

“Fine,” you snort, saying her real name this time as Steve wraps his arm back around you again, pulling you into him, he grins excitedly as he stretches his hand out to your sister, like it’s their first time meeting, like she didn’t walk in on you and him cuddling on your couch with baby Francine in his arms. She takes his hand with an amused smile. 

Max and Eddie share a look, amused by this little introduction. 

“That’s my boyfriend Steve,” you say with a giggle, feeling your heart burst with happiness. Francine squeals in your arms, like she’s happy to hear those words, as well, making everyone laugh in the room. 

“Steve, that’s my sister.”

“Nice to meet you, Twinkie,” Steve chuckles, earning a glare from her. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, adjusting your baby niece on your hip. Steve lets go of your sister’s hand and wraps his arm back around you again, kissing your temple. 

“I meant to say that I will kick your ass if you hurt her but I think that Max might beat me to it.”

“You’re right,” Max nods at your sister, crossing her arms over her chest, she gives Steve a pointed look, “he’ll wake up in Billy’s car again if he ever does anything stupid.” 

Steve’s eyes widen, he shakes his head at her, holding his hand up slightly with Francine’s hand still wrapped around his finger, “no way, Mayfield.” 

Eddie smirks as he throws his arm around Max’s shoulder, grinning at the redhead, “don’t worry, Steve. She’s getting driving lessons from me now.”

You snort. 

“That’s even worse, Munson,” Steve scoffs, pointing at Max, “a maniac getting driving lessons from another maniac? Yeah, no goddamn way, you’re getting driving lessons from me now.” 

Eddie looks a little offended by his words, he places his hand over his heart, “I’m a good driver.”

“Yeah, besides I’m good enough to drive by myself, I don’t need an instructor, I watched and learned from Billy.”

“Great, another maniac,” Steve sighs.

Your sister laughs at the interaction, she looks around, finally noticing all the boxes though she doesn’t say anything, even as her brows furrow and a curious, confused look flashes in her eyes. It doesn’t take her long to figure out what this means, it’s obvious, even more so with the clear excitement in both yours and his eyes. 

You look away from your friends and your boyfriend, drowning out the conversation as you look back at your sister, noticing the look in her eyes and the way she stares at the boxes. You grow a little nervous, not knowing what she thinks of this, what she will say about this but when she meets your eyes, she only shakes her head at you with a smile on her face. 

She takes a step closer, placing her hand on her daughter's back as she leans in to whisper in your ear, “when you know you know, and you always knew.” 

You nod with a smile on your face, feeling the heat of his body against yours, feeling his loving touch on your shoulder, feeling safe in his embrace. 

“Yeah, I did.” 

You knew it from the very start.

You were ruined for anyone else, before he even touched you. 

And when his lips touched yours for the first time, you knew you were done for, you thought it was over for you, that you would never find happiness after that but now you’re here, he is here, he is all yours and sometimes you are still in disbelief about it all, no matter how many weeks have passed, you still can’t wrap your head around it all, about how lucky you are, just like him. 

But there is someone else who is still in disbelief, Dustin. He was so convinced that you were dating Eddie, he just couldn’t understand how it all went by him that you and Steve had been a thing for months already, that you weren’t Eddie’s girl but Steve’s girl. 

He is even more in shock now as he is in your living room, taking in the sight of Steve’s belongings in your house, all the moving boxes. 

You invited all your friends over after the surprise visits you had already gotten, the amount of food Eddie and your sister brought was way too much anyways, so Steve made a call and invited all your friends over, well, most of them. 

Argyle went back to California. Jonathan who declined both college acceptance offers to Lenora Hills Community college and Emerson, made his dream come true of going to NYU, after a long and honest talk with Nancy, they decided to follow their own dreams, but still sticking together, even with a distance between them. Boston and New York aren’t that far apart, after all. 

So, after a little goodbye party at the hideout where Eddie and his band played, they all left Hawkins after a wild night filled with booze and weed – from both Argyle and Eddie.

Robin and Vickie went on a trip to Chicago before the latter leaves for College as well, but Robin knew all about Steve’s moving plans, he called her right away to tell her the news. 

Everyone is entering a new chapter and this time, it’s all, only positive changes, only ones you all look forward to, ones that you don’t step into nervously and with uncertainty, no, for once, you are all at peace, you are all happy, all excited for the future. 

Your living room is filled with friends, with family, it’s filled with laughter and smiles, something that has been lacking in the past few years. A house that was once just filled with sadness and a grayish glow, is now filled with life, the golden sun that shines inside, reflect the emotions in you now. 

Steve who is sitting on the couch, is holding your niece in his arms, she is sitting on his lap, happily. Babbling and giggling more than she did before, she is waving her arms around, giggling louder every time he makes a funny face or tickles her belly. 

Eddie sits beside him, cooing at the little girl every time a giggle escapes her, “oh, a fairy was born,” he tells her after each giggle from her. 

Steve gives her tiny hand a kiss when she places it on his cheek, which only prompts her to laugh again. 

“Oh, and another,” Eddie chuckles and taps her nose. 

A loving smile stays on your lips as you watch your boyfriend with your niece, adoring the mesmerized look on his face. He chuckles every time she turns to Eddie and looks at him with her big eyes before she turns her attention back to him, squealing and waving her arms around. 

Your sister sits beside you, looking stunned, “huh, he is a natural.” 

“Mhmm, he is,” you nod. 

Lucas and Dustin sit on the floor, bickering about something as always, while Max rolls her eyes at them every few seconds or so, cursing at them when Dustin throws one of the pillows at his friend. 

“Hey!” Steve shakes his head at him, giving them a disapproving look, “stop that! How old are you two? Francine over here is maturer than you two,” he grumbles, gesturing to the little girl in his arms who looks back and forth between Dustin and Lucas with a curious look on her face. 

Eddie chuckles beside him, nodding.

“You really got yourself a dad boyfriend,” your sister whispers into your ear, snickering as she sips on her coke. 

You giggle and nod your head. You love this side of him and you love how he looks with a baby in his arms. 

Steve catches you staring at him, and the scowl he previously looked at the teens with, quickly vanishes, a smile appears on his face and he tilts his head at you, beckoning you to him. 

You put your drink down on the table, pushing aside your empty plate from before, you get up and make your way over to your boyfriend. 

“Can I hold her?” Eddie asks, holding Francine’s tiny hand in his, smiling at the little girl. 

“Oh, now you wanna hold her?” Your sister chuckles, teasing him. “Thought you were scared of babies, Eddie.” 

“Only when they poop.”

“You are such a child, man.” Lucas snorts at him. 

“Hey, you’re not the one who was chased down with a diaper full of poop!” He exclaims, glaring at Max who only giggles in response. 

“You chased him down with a dirty diaper?” Lucas asks his girlfriend, who nods with a smirk on his face. 

He starts laughing and raises his hand at her, high fiving his girlfriend. 

Eddie shakes his head at the two, rolling his eyes before he looks back at Francine, reaching his hands out to her, she looks at him curiously, grasping his thumb, she holds it tightly. 

“Come here, princess,” Eddie whispers as he carefully takes her from Steve’s hands, lifting her into his arms, he cradles the back of her head even though she doesn’t even need the support anymore. “Holy shit, she’s so light.”

“Language,” Steve glares at him as he relaxes back in his seat once Eddie leans back with her in his arms. The metalhead ignores him, too mesmerized by your niece in his arms, who stares up at him, curiously and with big eyes. 

Your boyfriend reaches for your hand, not letting you sit beside him, he pulls you onto his lap instead, wrapping his arms around your waist, he takes you into his embrace, kissing your shoulder once you’re settled on top of him. 

“Hey, keep it pg in here, there’s kids and a baby in this room,” your best friend teases your boyfriend, smirking at him. 

“We’re not kids anymore,” Lucas scoffs. 

“Yeah, bet Max and Lucas meet up at Skull Rock to kiss–”

“Dude!” “Dustin!” 

Lucas and Max yell in unison, glaring at their friend with flustered faces, causing you all to laugh at them. 

“It’s the truth,” Dustin smirks, shrugging – and that is how all the bickering starts again, though this time, Max joins. 

Shaking your head at them, you turn away to watch your niece instead, laying your head on Steve’s shoulder, your heart flutters in your chest when he tightens his hold on you and kisses your temple, rubbing circles into your hip, he whispers the softest I love you into your ear. 

“Oh my god,” your best friend whispers in awe, watching your niece falling asleep in his arms, tiny hand still gripping his finger, face nuzzled into his chest comfortably. Eddie looks around, shushing at the teens. 

You and Steve look at each other in surprise, not even five minutes have passed since Eddie took Francine from Steve’s arms, and she is already fast asleep in his arms. 

“Well now we know who can babysit her,” your sister jokes, also stunned by how fast she passed out in the metalheads arms. 

“Yeah, and our  future kids too,” you say without thinking, completely unaware of the feelings those words cause inside of Steve. 

He blushes a deep red, warmth spreads inside of him and he shifts with you on his lap, gripping you tighter and clearing his throat when your best friend smirks at his reaction. 

That shuts the teens up, their bickering coming to a stop the moment they realize what you just said, they all share a look before they turn to you and Steve. 

While Lucas smirks and wiggles his brows at Steve, Max is giggling at his blushing cheeks but Dustin, he only raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, not in disapproval though.

He raises his hands up, closing his eyes for a moment, “you guys gotta give me a moment, I’m still trying to get used to this,” he wiggles his fingers between you both. 

“What do you mean?” Your sister chuckles, cocking her head to the side. 

Dustin blinks at her, gesturing to you once more, “them being a couple, I mean have you seen them before!? They were constantly at each other’s throats!”

“Yeah, cause Steve was an idiot,” Lucas laughs. 

Steve gives him a pointed look, but doesn’t fight him on that, he calls himself that, all the time, for everything that happened between you in the past. 

“I thought she was with Eddie!” 

Your sister laughs with a confused look on her face, shaking her head, “why, because they’re always together?” 

Steve rolls his eyes at Dustin, holding you a little tighter.

“Yeah! And like I said, they were always fighting!” 

“Mhmm, and suddenly they didn’t, I wonder why,” Lucas smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you both again. 

“He really wanted them together, by the way,” Max tells your sister, pointing her finger at her boyfriend. 

“From day one,” he nods proudly, “and now they’re together, moving in together! I always knew what’s up. I mean, I always knew about Steve’s little crush on her, a guy just knows it.”

Dustin looks at him confused, he frowns and blinks at your boyfriend, staring at him for a long moment, he looks at you and then back at him before his eyes widen and he jumps up, “that is why you gave me the shittiest advice ever! You told me chicks dig it when guys are mean to them!”

“The key with girls is acting like you don’t care,” Lucas and Max mock him, giggling with each other. 

Steve groans and throws his head back when you turn to face him with an amused smile, “wow, that’s some good advice, babe.”

“Well, it clearly worked,” Eddie snorts, glancing at you briefly as he adjusts Francine in his arms. 

Dustin grins at Steve, “oh, that’s why you were so mean to her! Bet you expected her to fall at your feet but instead she was mean to you too! That’s why you didn’t stop there and just kept going because you wanted her attention – oh, now I understand!” He laughs, shaking his head as he stares in disbelief, like he uncovered something groundbreaking. 

“You know what, Henderson?” Steve mumbles, straightening his back, he leans closer to you, pressing his chest against your back, he leans his chin on your shoulder, “you’re right.” He admits after a long pause, despite hating to boost that boy’s ego, he admits it. 

He is right. 

Steve was always infatuated with you, he just never wanted to admit it, not even to himself, not even when he kept those notes that you had found earlier. He ignored what he desired, who his heart desired, because that teenage boy in him, was too proud to admit that he liked someone who didn’t like him back but he also couldn’t fight those feelings, they irritated him, they made him mean. 

So yeah, Dustin was right but so was Lucas. 

And now they continue to tease him about it all, while you sit back and watch in amusement, enjoying the redness that covers your boyfriend's cheeks while he holds you in his arms and plays with your hands, toying with your ring finger the way he always does, he tries to hide the smile on his face but fails to do so when your eyes meet his and he sees the joy in them, the one that has been there since the night he confessed his love for you. 

He loves you so much, he can’t even think of a moment when he didn’t – it’s impossible to think of one. 

You adjust on top of him, turning and twisting your body until you can lay your head on his shoulder, snuggling into him, not caring about anything around you, about the vulnerability, the softness, the affectionate side of you, you’re displaying so casually – something you would have never done before. 

Steve’s heart could burst at this very moment. 

He knows how much you struggled to show your true feelings and emotions, how you hid from the world, for years. How you never let anyone see the real side of you, how closed up and sheltered you were, how you dug yourself a hole and stayed in there for the longest time, thinking that you were better off in hiding, thinking that you had to stay in the void forever, all alone, all by yourself, with fears and a feeling of deep sorrow, you just couldn’t let go of. 

But through the darkness, through the pain that the upside down had brought you, had dragged you into, you found a family, just like he did. 

Eddie stepped into your life, a best friend you never thought you would have again after you lost both Billy and Chrissy so tragically. You didn’t want to let him in, you feared that the curse upon you that you believed you had, would take him from you too, that it was only a matter of time until the darkness would drag him away from you as well, just like it had dragged away everyone else that you have loved. But he didn’t allow you to push him away, he didn’t let you believe for a second that any of what happened was your fault, he stuck to your side, from the day at skull rock, he stuck to your side in the upside down and after, he stayed, no matter how hard you tried to deny that bond between you, he stayed. 

Max, the stubborn girl that refused to ever leave your side, who never once stepped away from you, who sees you as her big sister, just like Lucas. The two teens had to be forced out of your hospital room after what Jason did to you, they never left without a fight.

And through the darkness, through the worst days, you and Steve have found each other, through monsters and pain, through bloodshed and tears, you finally found your way to each other – neither of you are surrounded by sadness any longer, by emptiness and a longing for love you could only ever find in each other. 

This room that was once filled with silence and sadness, an emptiness, a dark cloud that always hung over your home is now gone. You are no longer alone, you’re surrounded by people who decided that you are worth loving, worth staying for, you both are. 

You have found home in each other, and you found a family. 

That night, when you are back in your bedroom, you sit on your floor next to each other, surrounded by candlelight, two glasses of wine on each side of you, a bag of your favorite candy before you and a bunch of pictures all across your floor, surrounding the corkboard that lies on the carpet. Your TV is on but neither of you pay attention to the movie playing on the screen. The smell of fresh bed sheets lingers in the room, along with the scent of his and your body wash, your hair is still wet from your shower together. 

Your giggles sound through the room as he laughs at the silly picture he took of Dustin earlier, unable to stop as he stares at the face the teen made. 

“We’re definitely putting that picture up,” Steve snickers as he pins it to the corkboard – the corkboard that was his idea, to put up pictures of your favorite memories, of the people that mean the most to you. 

“I think we’ll need a second corkboard,” you chuckle as you look at all the pictures that have taken up the entire space of the board. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and looks down at the pictures on your lap, he reaches for the one of you and Eddie, that one was taken in his backyard, both yours and his eyes are bloodshot, lazy smiles are on your faces, your hair is wild and all over the place, Eddie is wearing two pigtails, his arm is thrown over your shoulder, a joint sticking between his fingers, Steve remembers that night, the way you all got drunk and high and played hide and seek in Eddie’s backyard, like a group of kids – it wasn’t long after you and Steve made your little arrangement. That night, he pulled you behind one of the high bushes and kissed you breathless while your friends were looking for you. He was the reason for your messy hair and your puffy lips. 

Steve takes the picture with a grin on his face, taking up one of the last spots on the board, he pins it. 

“Really? This one?” You question and tilt your head back to look at him, “why?”

“Cause you look adorable,” he whispers and leans in to peck your lips, “with your hair all messed up from my hands,” he murmurs against your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Making out in the bushes was definitely something,” you giggle, nuzzling your nose into his. 

He cradles your cheeks and nods, smiling as he leans his forehead against yours. You sigh in contentment as his lips brush against yours, his warm touch sends sparks through your body, he is melting into you the way you melt into him. You look into his hazel eyes, into his loving gaze, a breathy, sweet chuckle escapes him before he closes his eyes and kisses you deeply. 

Your lips move slowly against his, you savor every second of each kiss, you both do, even though you know you have the rest of your life to do this with each other. You taste the wine on his lips and the candy, you feel his protective, soft touch, his thumb caressing your cheek as his tongue slips past your lips, clashing against your own. 

His heart flutters in his chest when you whimper into the kiss, when you throw your arms around his neck and press yourself against him, crawling into his lap with his help. 

Steve holds you tightly, his hand travels to the back of your neck, running his fingers through your wet hair, he runs his fingers up and down your spine before he cradles your cheek again. His free hand pats the space around him, touching the carpet as he searches for the polaroid camera, sighing and moaning into the kiss when you press yourself tighter against him and deepen the kiss, running your fingers through his messy hair. 

The flash of the camera doesn’t even make you flinch, it only makes you giggle as you pull away from your boyfriend, your eyes flashing with amusement when he opens his own and meets you with a grin. 

“You’re so sneaky, Stevie,” you whisper as you glance at the polaroid camera in his hand. 

Steve laughs and steals another kiss from you, he puts the camera down after you pick out the picture. 

You look down at the still developing picture, waiting for the reveal. You press your lips together, sighing when he kisses your neck. 

“I’m so happy, baby, I hope you know that,” Steve whispers against your skin, slipping his hand underneath your shirt as he hugs you against his chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He murmurs adoringly, the sight of your smile, of the joy in your eyes makes his heart swell so strongly. 

Many months ago, he told you to get yourself a boyfriend and stop getting on his nerves — you don’t know why this moment flashes in your mind now, why this takes you back to that day at Family Video but the memory makes you giggle. 

“What’s so funny?” Steve asks, amused. 

“You told me to get myself a boyfriend… and I did.” 

Steve furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head to the side, he purses his lips as his hazel eyes gaze into yours, they widen and a huff leaves his mouth before he chuckles. 

“Yeah, and I fucking love it, baby. I’m your boyfriend,” he says, proudly, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Well, I love to be your girlfriend, Stevie.” 

His heart will always flutter at these words, at the way you look at him, at the way you touch him, like he’s something perfect. 

“You caught me,” he whispers, pressing his lips to yours strongly, “and I caught you.”

You hold onto his neck, running your fingers through his hair, you refuse to look away from him. 

“And I’m never letting you go,” he promises, “you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Your cheeks nearly hurt from how hard you’re smiling, and it only gets worse when he leans in to pepper your face in kisses, “my girlfriend.” Kiss. “My beautiful, gorgeous girl.” Kiss. “My future wife.” Kiss. “My stars.” Kiss. “My sun and my moon.” Kiss. “My whole galaxy.” Kiss. 

You can’t stop giggling, your eyes tear up from all the laughter that falls from your lips and when you lean your head back, it only turns out to be a mistake when Steve latches his mouth onto your neck, tickling you with the stubble on his cheeks. 

“Steve!” 

His chuckles vibrate against you, he buries his face in your neck and breathes in your scent, “I’m so in love with you.”

He reminds you of that, all day, when he doesn’t whisper those words into your ear, he lets you feel it, with touches, with small gestures, leaving notes around the house or by waking you with coffee every morning when you’re not the one beating him to it. 

Steve pushes you down on the carpet and crawls on top of you, pressing one hand on the carpet beneath you, he looks away from you for a moment, taking the fully developed polaroid picture, he smiles at it as he pins it into the middle of the corkboard. 

You admire him, raising your hand to cup his cheek, you brush your fingers through his hair, it got so much longer but you love it like this, how it covers his forehead, how it curls on the nape of his neck, how messy it looks. 

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?” He whispers as he reaches for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looks down at you with loving eyes. 

“I’m in love with you.”

These words always feel like a warm and comforting embrace. There is so much love that he holds in his heart for you, he can’t even put it into words just how strong it is, not even if he tried to. 

You trace his features with your fingers, touching him softly and carefully, making him melt into your touch as a smile graces his face, he slowly leans in, closer and closer until your lips are brushing against each other. 

“Forever?” He asks you, gazing into your starry eyes. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling when he presses himself against you, staring at you in a way that makes all your insides tingle. 

“Forever and ever!” You grin before he slams his lips back on yours, kissing you deeply and feverishly, smiling happily against your lips as his hands make their way under your shirt while yours get lost in his hair. 

“Forever and ever,” he murmurs against your lips, opening his eyes, they basically sparkle with stars. “My darling, forever and ever, I fucking love the sound of that.” He whispers and kisses your cheek. “I love you.”

You pinch his chin between your fingers and kiss his lips, smiling brightly at your man, the golden light in your room makes him look so ethereal. His hazel eyes shine so golden, his skin inviting your lips, his hands lay on your body so perfectly, like a touch of an angel, perhaps he is one, he is yours. 

You went through the storm, the one you have always been so afraid of, you went through it, through the darkest of storms, through ones you didn’t even think existed and you didn’t come out unscathed, you were knocked off your feet and you were harmed, you took scars with you, on your body and in your heart but even through that, you came out alright – because he was always there, he always reached his hand out to you, he always waited on the other side, he was always there, even when you both didn’t realize just how close he always was, just how ready he always was to fight for you the way you always fought for him. 

You both went through so much, you both suffered greatly. 

But now you are here, with each other, where you both belong. 

Steve leans his forehead against yours, he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, he kisses your ring finger, making that smile on your face bigger and brighter. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” you whisper back before you melt into each other, yet again. Getting lost in the kiss, one of endless to come. 

Hell was the journey but it brought you both to heaven. 

Hands tied,

♡

well, it's over, this is the end :') (actually there's still gonna be the epilogue so I'm gonna save my sappy comment for that one)

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @corrodedcorpses @moon-flowerrs @munson-mjstan @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @agirlwholovesrockstars

[sincerelybubbles]

hi! i loved your hotch x shy!bau! reader fic! would you ever make a second part? or like a continuation of shy!reader and hotch moments? ty! <33

yes yes i wanna keep writing for them so if you guys have anything in specific you want to see, lmk!!

hotch asks shy!bau!reader out for their first date

You stare at the papers in front of you, trying your best to narrow down the geological profile with Reid; trying harder to not let your thoughts wander and distract you. It's hard - Hotch offered to go with you to the new Korean BBQ place before JJ called in the new case. You keep waiting to hear him extend the same offer to the others - specifically Rossi who never turns away an offer to try out a new restaurant or Morgan who is always down to go out with the team.

Instead, he's talking quietly with JJ about Jack's new teacher, unable to do any more work on the case until the jet touches down.

"Okay, we can cross out this county," Spencer says, interrupting your thoughts and reaching across you to mark through a small section. Eyes flicking across the paper, you furrow your brows, confused by the choice.

"Why?" You ask, hand moving to stop his pen strokes before you double-think and let it hit the tabletop.

"Because it's too easy for him to hit if he wanted to. It's been too long, he must have no interest in the area."

"It's low income, exactly his MO. He might hit it later, once he realizes..."

"No," Spencer says, shaking his head before you can finish your sentence. He finishes blacking out the area with his Sharpie and caps the pen, not looking over at you. "That wouldn't make any sense."

Tounge caught by your nerves, you slowly nod your head instead, deciding to give the topic up for now. The next wall the team hits, though, you're determined to readdress the area.

Deciding you need a moment to yourself, you excuse yourself quietly and stand to move to the back of the jet. You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your head back to feel the stretch in your shoulders.

"What county?" Hotch asks, reaching a hand out to intercept your path as you pass him.

"Sorry?" You ask, breath catching on the word as his hand brushes your arm and loops loosely around your wrist. Next to him, JJ has fallen asleep against the window. You feel bad for her for a moment, remembering her talking about Henry's recent sleep regression.

"The county you mentioned to Reid - which one was it?"

"Morris," you say instinctively, still hyper-focused on his hand. His thumb swipes against your wrist bone twice before he lets you go, motioning for you to continue walking.

You think he's let it go and quickly move down the aisle to one of the couches at the back of the jet. When you settle down, though, intent on opening your own map, Hotch sits next to you and tilts his head so you can hear each other if you were to talk softly.

"What was your original thought about it?"

You're struggling to think, distracted by his proximity and low voice. The soft tones reach your belly, causing it to flip, The feeling is pleasant, even if it's entirely inappropriate.

"Sorry?" You say again, meeting his eye before quickly looking away to fumble with the map. Hands shaking, you manage to open it to the right state.

"There's no need to be sorry," Hotch says, voice firm but gentle. He reaches out and you think he's going to grab your wrist again but he instead taps a finger once against Morris County. "Your idea about the county - what was your original thought before Reid shot you down?"

"Oh. It's okay, Reid already said it doesn't make sense." You notice that Hotch opens his mouth to interject before you can finish and your sentence falters at the end. Still, his eyes watch you to make sure you're finished before he answers.

"I still want to hear what you had to say."

You explain your theory to him, then, talking quickly at first, stumbling over your words, before slowing down once you realize he's going to listen to everything you have to say. He nods, agreeing with your theory.

"I'll keep it in mind and give the information to Garcia. Thank you," he says, sincere, eyes locked on yours.

"You're welcome." You wait for him to get up now that you have nothing new to say about the case. While you were talking, you mentioned a few thoughts you had about the preliminary profile the team started on that you couldn't seem to find the space to add during the group conversation.

Instead, he settles further into the seat next to you, reading the map over your shoulder.

Something about his casual posture and the lack of his suit jacket fills you with enough confidence to ask, "Why haven't you invited anyone else to the barbeque place?"

He watches you for a minute, not replying as his eyes scan your face and posture. You've never been the best at body language when it comes to people you know, always a little too nervous to scan them the same way you might an unsub, but you know that Hotch is taking in any and all clues your body can give him before he answers. He seems to roll the words on his tongue, testing them out, before he answers.

You've never been the best at reading the body language of the people you know personally, but you still are considered an expert at it in interrogations, often requested to watch from behind the glass. That's all to say, Hotch seems nervous as he says, "I was hoping it could be us two unless you would prefer the others to be there."

The air leaves your chest and you feel unsteady and unbalanced even though you're sitting. Before you can overthink it, you're shaking your head no.

Hotch's face falls, a slight thing you would certainly notice if your eyes weren't glued to his face to ensure this wasn't some kind of sick joke.

"No, I want it to be just us," you say, quick before he can get the wrong impression.

The usual confidence Hotch carries reinflates in him quickly. He smiles, a slight tug at the corner of his lip that you again only catch because you're watching him so closely.

"Good," he says.

You two sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, first just watching each other, and then, when you get embarrassed, comparing your case files and small map.

"To be clear," he says when Rossi and Spencer have started up a quiet conversation about chess - when his soft tones would be nearly impossible to be understood by anyone but yourself - "I mean as a date. If you would like."

Words lost, you simply nod, eyes wide and smile wider on your face. You think you can hear him chuckle softly but your face is too hot to look up and check. 

[parkerpeter24]

HIII i am begging can you write a Peter Parker x reader one shot where peter and reader are married and have a toddler and maybe the avengers team find out PLISSSS ANS TYYYY 🫶🫶🫶

baby 🥺

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader

requests are open (but i barely write stuff)

masterlist

“what is he doing on the ceiling?!” kate yelled as soon as you entered the lobby, searching for your little toddler ben. you rubbed your eyes as you approached a very baffled kate, “your child is on the ceiling! how are you so calm?!”

“it’s 7 in the morning.” you winced as you looked at ben, him giving you an excited look and extended his arm towards you, making you do the same, “come on, benny, come to mama.”

and he did so as, un-sticking himself from the wall as he perfectly landed in your arms.

your two year old was way better at this than peter when he had started out as spider-man. his hand kept getting stuck to different places and after a bunch of ripped t-shirts and a couple of haircuts, you bought him rubber gloves. however, that didn’t work either.

as your little boy nestled against your chest, you looked over to kate who still had surprise written all over her face, “he’s spider-man’s child.” you explained simply.

“but- what if he fell down?”

“oh, he wouldn’t. he’s way too smart for that, aren’t you, benny?” you booped his nose and he gave you a grin.

“yes, mommy.”

you and peter had kept your relationship secret for a couple of years, at least from peter’s superhero gang. so it didn’t come off as a surprise when the avengers found out that you two had a one year old. they were very disappointed in you two for not telling this big a thing but the second they saw ben’s cute little face and his smile, you were forgiven and everyone was happy.

when you agreed to move into the avenger’s tower, tony was more than excited. he added a bunch of toys to the huge playroom that was originally built for morgan.

you were surprised to see that thor was the most attached to your baby. he spent time with him and thursdays were reserved to thor and ben taking a tour of the city. you trusted thor, however you had only allowed this after ben turned two, which was only a few weeks ago.

whenever natasha was around, she would tell ben all kinds of stories about how she kicked bad people’s butts so that little kids could sleep peacefully at night and ben would adore those “tales” even though they were real.

“next time you find him on a ceiling, just show him a cookie, he’ll come right down.” you told kate as you patted ben’s back, gently lulling him back to sleep.

“if you say so.” kate replied, chuckling as she watched you for a minute, “you should get some more sleep too, you look tired.”

“he refused to sleep last night because tony let him have extra ice-cream.” you rolled your eyes.

you noticed ben had fallen asleep, already drooling over the material of your t-shirt as you carried him back to his crib, placing him securely under his blanket before you made your way to your own bed. your husband, peter was still fast asleep. you laid down on the bed, peter already pulling you closer as if it was a reflex. you felt his arm relax against you, his head resting close to your shoulder and soon you felt the soft caress of sleep take over.

the bedside clock showed 10:34 as time when your eyes opened again. the room was empty, peter and ben both gone. you quickly freshened up before making your way out of the room and into the main gathering area once again.

only this time you were greeted with everyone sitting around and laughing as steve held his shield on his lap with ben sitting on top of it.

“hey, babe.” peter was the first one they greeted you as he placed a kiss on your cheek and dragged you in the middle of whatever was happening.

“uh, what’s happening?” you asked, looking around.

“your child is stuck to cap’s shield.” tony said, an almost proud smile spread over his face to which steve gave him a glare.

“guess who inspired it.” natasha rolled her eyes at her two friends, however a small smile remained on her face at the little banter going on.

just then kate ran into the room, holding a cookie in her hand as she handed it to steve, “got it!”

“come on, kid.” steve said, waving around the cookie in the air in front of him. ben’s eyes lit up and steve smiled, “it’s yours if you leave the shield.”

however, cap’s efforts failed as ben reached out one hand to grab the sweet but didn’t move a bit to release his shield.

“i bribed him good.” tony shrugged as he sipped on his black coffee.

you watched the whole scene unfold, amused to say the least. you noticed peter snickering as he stood beside you. you smacked his chest lightly, “you think this is funny? go get your child.”

“and forget the spider-bike mr stark promised me? never.”

[novemberheart]

{overview} as you become closer with your pack, nature takes control

{warnings} cursing, mentions of sex, cursing, mentions of violence, fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, lots of jumping around

Chapter 11 <- Chapter 12 -> Chapter 13

Kyle had you sitting between his legs, your legs over one of his thighs. The two of you sat on the bathroom floor as he gently cleaned your leg and applied medicine. You were in your undergarments, not wanting your shirt to continue sticking to the scrapes on your side.

Kyle was being incredibly respectful. Well, he was too upset to even think about anything other than cleaning you up. The image of you covered in blood continually resurfacing in his brain.

You winced at the sting of medicine.

“I'm sorry, love.” he shushed you quickly.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

“You called John ‘alpha’,” Kyle spoke, trying to change the bleak subject. He knows you've called him alpha before- because he had to pay the consequences. You nodded your head, resting your head against his broad chest. You noticed Kyle doesn't wear scent blockers as much as the others. Maybe it was because his scent was already fairly neutral. You were grateful for it now. The smell of fresh linen soothing the throb in your skull.

“Are you okay with that?” you hummed, your eyes growing heavy. Kyle began cleaning up your arm. John wasn't technically your alpha yet. But he was Kyles. You could imagine how you would feel if someone you had just met two weeks ago was calling your alpha theirs.

“Course, love,” he responded quickly. “I quite enjoy it actually.” he hummed. Your eyes fluttered open, staring at the wall ahead.

“How so?” you pondered.

“Means you feel comfortable,” he explained. “Makes Cap’ pleased too.” That caused you to smile lightly.

His heartbeat was beginning to fall back to normal. The rhythmic thumping becoming less and less routine.

“Kyle?” you hummed softly.

“Yes?” he hummed back. His lips rested against the top of your head.

“Can I sleep with you tonight? In your bed I mean- or mine.” you felt him smile. You didn't want to be alone. You had the fleeting thought of asking John, but that was too intimidating. Plus Kyle was like a sedative on your nerves.

“Course, babygirl.” he agreed lowly. A shiver ran up your spine. He sighed, beginning to gather all the discarded cotton wads and bandage packages. “You’re all good, lovie. How about we break into alphas bedroom and steal some more clothes?” he wiggled a brow down at you.

His hand wrapped around your wrist holding your hand still, so he could kiss your fingertips. You rolled your eyes, beginning to squirm in his grasp.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him flush against you. Kyle's head immediately found your neck, taking a deep inhale. The bitterness was gone leaving a mouth-watering aroma behind.

You two had curled up in his bed after dinner.

John and Simon had returned an hour before dinner. Kyle and Johnny quickly distracted you as they both made their way to their rooms. You heard the shower turn on immediately after. They hadn't said a word to you about it afterwards and you didn't pry. The looks on their faces were enough to let you know they had handled it. For dinner they let you pick whatever you wanted and you chose Chinese. All of you sat at the counter eating together like a true pack.

You didn't miss the way they looked at you. Their eyes lingered longer. You didn't quite have the energy to decipher each emotion. You felt as though you had proved yourself, though. Yes, you were a bit idiotic going off by yourself, but you held your own and were able to defend yourself. They had watched the footage, they knew.

It seemed to have hit John the hardest. Maybe it was alpha pride. The omega under his care got hurt and he couldn't prevent it. Or maybe he saw it as an attack against him. You hoped it was the easy answer; he didn't want to see you hurt.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered, your cheek pressed against his. He pulled back a bit, his darkened eyes staring into yours. “How did the relationship start between all of you?”

It had never been disclosed to you but you had your assumptions even before joining the pack. Only packs who could satisfy each other's needs refused to change.

“Me and ‘Tavish started it.” Kyle yawned, reburying his face in your neck. “Got in a fight actually- ended up working it out in a bit of an unorthodox way,” he explained, making you chuckle.

“What about John and Simon?”

“They’ve definitely been a thing for a long time- just have never been able to prove it.” he rolled over on his back, maneuvering you so you were lying against his chest. His fingers tracing small shapes against your thigh.

“When did all four of you decide to be together?”

“The night me and ‘Tavish got into it.” he rested his head against yours, his breath fanning your ear. You could feel his cheek twitch up into a smirk. “They watched.”

He chuckled at the sudden increase in your body temperature, your scent warming along with it. A wanting rumble vibrated in his chest but he made no move to act on it.

“Does it make your job harder?” you questioned suddenly. You knew what came with their job. The sacrifices they agreed to. What if something happened and they had to choose between each other or their objective? You curled further around Kyle.

“Lot more at stake,” he said quietly. “But, no. It doesn't.” you would have to be satisfied with the answer for now.

“She called this home,” Johnny mumbled. Simon pulled his teeth away from the Scot's shoulder blades, flopping down on his back with a huff. He had been trying to warm Johnny up for the past fifteen minutes but the conversation always wandered back to you- and not in the way it usually does when they’re in bed.

“What else is she supposed to call it?” Simon questioned. He grabbed Johnnys' bicep and pulled him so his back was resting against his chest. Johnny growled, starting to pull himself away.

“Easy, mutt,” Simon growled, pulling him back. “Bloody heated over a situation that has been handled.”

“You weren't there.” Johnny finally snarled back. “By the time you got here, she wasn't dripping blood or crying or fucking terrified.”

It wasn't that Simon didn't care about you. He had spent the most time with you than anyone. In that time, he would be lying if he said you hadn't knocked down a few feet of the wall he had built up around himself. Johnny had a point. He probably would be much more bitter if he had been on the scene. He had watched it through the cameras, but it wasn't the same as being there when it was actually happening.

“You’re right.” Simon sighed, pressing a kiss against the mark on Johnny's shoulder. “We handled it though.”

“How’d you handle it?”

“The scratched-up one was easy to find. She got him good, really fucked up his eye. Slag had the bright idea to get treated at medical. Cap’ was so riled he nearly killed the bastard. Settled on broken legs though. The other one had a bit more brains- was hiding out. Was a fun game of cat and mouse, til it wasn't.” Despite the violence, Johnny’s body relaxed. That is what he needed to hear. That the bastards hadn't gotten away with anything. That they hadn't bloodied you up without consequences. “You did good, Johnny. Takin’ care of your omega." The praise warmed Johnny to the core.

His time was 1:16 causing a few mouths to drop open.

“Hells bells, how'd you pull that off?” Johnny gawked, pressing the speaker button. Kyle shrugged behind the glass, opening the door to the ‘control room.’

“Don't know, mate. Just did.” he wasn't lying. Kyle had always been the fastest of the group but that was practically unheard of considering the duration of the test.

“Fucking beautiful,” Simon muttered, still reeling. You looked up from your mahjong puzzle not really getting what was so special. You had been unanimously voted into protective custody, meaning you got to follow the boys around all day. (just as long as you didn’t pay too close attention to what they were training for)

“I might know.” John said suddenly. His lips straightened in a line like he was trying to hold back a smile. Suddenly his eyes fell on you. You pushed your headphones back. “You two slept together last night, yeah?”

You flushed even though you knew that wasn't what he meant.

“I don't think I had any”-

“Makes sense,” Simon interjected. “Kyle beat his own record by nearly 30 seconds. That doesn't just happen.” he reasoned.

“Think you're right.” Kyle agreed. When he woke up that morning he had felt it. There was a warmth under his skin that made it easier to move- easier to think. He thought it was just because he had slept well. He should've known it was because of you.

“Well, I'll take credit I guess.” you sighed, tugging your headphones back on. Your eyes were brought away from your phone as Johnny took a knee before you.

“Hen, will you do me the greatest honor and sleep with me tonight?” his puppy dog eyes would be hard to refuse. You rolled your eyes but agreed. He obviously wasn't expecting it from the way his face lit up.

“Shite, I gotta wash my sheets.”

“Johnny!”

It was no wonder he had to wear scent blockers all the time. His scent was addictive. Cinnamon and pine with a slight end note of orange. You had spent the last five minutes rolling around in his (clean) sheets.

“Enjoying yourself?” he snickered, hanging up his towel on his closet door. You looked over your shoulder, your half-lidded eyes meeting his. He groaned, quickly climbing into bed with you. “Better not get me in trouble, peaches.” he rasped. You wrapped around him before he was even flat against the mattress. He chuckled, his large hands grabbing your hips, moving you so you were curled up on top of him. His stubble scratched against your forehead as you buried your face in his neck. He purred, the sound catching you off guard. “Could get used to this.” he hummed, his own eyes growing heavy at the heated peachy scent in the air.

His hands wandered. Yet they couldn't be called inappropriate- and you certainly weren't opposed to it. His dull nails scratched against your back through the fabric of your shirt, before gliding down to your hips, his hands nearly gripping your bottom. They dove lower, grabbing the back of your thighs and giving them a squeeze before making his way back up, starting to play with your hair.

“Thank you for taking care of me yesterday,” you mumbled suddenly. You had practically melted into one at that point, but you still realized you hadn't thanked him.

“You can rely on me. You know that, aye?” he murmured back. He had proven that without a doubt. All of them had.

Meanwhile, in his room, John’s body was on fire. He hadn't felt this way since- god he couldn't even remember.

“Think it's a cold?” Kyle questioned, removing his already sweated-through shirt.

“No.” John panted. The burning in his stomach only intensified, his mind was stuck on one thing and one thing only.

You.

“It's a fucking rut.”

Hello everyone! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you in three days for chapter 13! 🧡

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[arafilez]

੭୧ ⼂ OH? CROCHETING ﹗

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ skz ot8 x reader ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤfluff, estb. relationship 𓏧 reaction ㅤ warnings none ㅤ﹢ㅤ0.2k / mem wc ㅤ𓏧 ㅤ req

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ BANG CHAN ꒱

Chan opens the door to the apartment and says, “I am back,” in a sweet manner and an adorable grin, only for everything to go futile. He doesn’t hear you answer him making him tilt his head in confusion. He looks around and notices a dim light from the bedroom door despite the dark living room.

It is too early for you to be sleeping!

He keeps his bags down and walks towards the bedroom slowly prying the door open and a gasp leaves his mouth at the adorable scene that unfolds in front of him. You, lying on the bed, eyes closed and soft snores leaving your mouth and a half-done crochet top in your hands.

He walks towards you slowly, and gently removes your fingers off the pastel green material, giggling at how cute the sweater looks and then looks at you. He circles his arms around your waist trying to get you to a sleeping position but that gets you up as you jerk up.

“Woah, okay love, slow down," he replies and you stare at him, still in a bit of a haze as he coos at you, “Let’s get you to sleep, my crocheting star.”

“Mhm, good idea,” you whisper making him stare at you with half-moon eyes before a full-blown smile etches his face and he pulls you closer to get comfortable.

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ LEE MINHO ꒱

Minho comes back home and his eyes narrow at his two cats sitting on the floor with crocheted cat sweaters on them. They nuzzle against his ankles and he crouches down and pats their heads saying, “Where’s Doongie?” Where is his third cat anyway?

“I can’t believe you come home and the first thing you ask for is Doongie and not the person who made those?” you fake-scoff making Minho turn in his heels and look at you holding Doongie, who is happily nuzzling against your arms. He purrs lightly in his sage green clothing and on top of it stays in your arms when Minho tries to take him.

“Someone appreciates this, at least,” you smile making Minho roll his eyes affectionately. He gently pries Doongie off your arms and places a chaste kiss on your lips saying, “Yeah, but I love you so that makes up for everything.”

“Hm, does it?” you tease but kiss him back as his head leans against yours and he holds your waist, stroking gentle lines against it. As you part away you watch him take out his phone and take pictures of his three cats before sending it to his friends.

“They look so cute,” he giggles looking at the matching and adorable sweaters and then turns to you, “You’re so cute.” “And you’re cheesy,” you giggle as he laughs along with you in the quiet home.

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ SEO CHANGBIN ꒱

Changbin enters the apartment after his evening gym routine only to find it oddly quiet. He looks around and spots the muted T.V. and you lying down on the couch with a half-done crochet top in your hands.

He smiles at your adorable figure with an equally adorable piece in your hand before he walks up to you and sits beside you. Closing down the show, he picks out his phone and clicks a picture of you. His giggles are what wakes you up and you blink before getting up.

Rubbing your eyes you ask, “Binnie, when did you get here?” “Long enough to see you sleeping with that and take the cutest pictures in the world. I might win a Guinness World Record for capturing the cutest person.” You slap his arm and he laughs as you look down at the half-made top in your hands and feel the tiredness taking over.

Putting your head on his shoulder as he rounds his arm around your figure asking, “Tired?” “Yes, gonna finish this tomorrow,” you yawn halfway through your sentence and he replies, “Okay cutie, let’s so sleep.”

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ HWANG HYUNJIN ꒱

“Hyunjin, Hyunjin, Hyunjin,” you jump around excitedly as soon as he enters the room and looks at you, a small smile etching his face at your sight. You are wearing a fluffy crochet cap, is that what it is called, Hyunjin wonders and a piece of crochet material is lying on the table in front of you.

His loose clothes on your body makes him giggle as you happily bounce towards him saying, “Look what I made.” His eyes land on the hat and the pale colour and intricate designs and he says, “It’s adorable!”

“I know, right?” you jump and he holds you and kisses your lips lightly making you calm down. “Let’s take some pictures,” you nod happily at his idea before you two pose for the camera and take them at weird angles just to get a good laugh.

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ HAN JISUNG ꒱

“Baby, this is hard,” Jisung’s whine doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you finish the sweater you were making and grin at him. “That is because you are new at it,” you say making him pout more.

He tries for a good fifteen minutes before slumping back on the couch and keeping the crochet hook and yarn down. “Woah, did I finally find something Han Jisung, our ace, is bad at?” you giggle as he glares at you.

“I am not bad, I simply don’t have the patience right now,” he replies making you shrug, “Same difference.” You laugh loudly as he pounces on your body, tickling you, god knows how he found your weirdest tickle spots too, making you squirm and apologise at his giggly face.

Needless to say, a week later Jisung pops into your work-room with a smirk on his face and a fully crocheted sweater in his hands with the most intricate design as you stare in awe. “Told ya,” he says with a smug smile as you stare at it dumbfounded. He truly is an ace.

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ LEE FELIX ꒱

Felix tiptoes into your room to surprise you after work but the scene takes him by surprise instead. He chuckles lightly at you, currently asleep with a plushie beside you and a crochet piece on your lap. Fishing out his phone he quickly takes some pictures and then wakes you up to make you sleep properly.

The next morning you wake up to a smiley Felix as you stretch lightly and ask, “Why are so shining before the sun baby?” “Because of you,” he replies making you snort, “Cheesy ass.”

“I took some interesting pictures yesterday,” he whispers before reaching out for it and you blink trying to adjust to the light. You look beside at his cheeky grin and a picture of you sleeping which is clearly from last night making you gasp. Holy shit! You are drooling there and that picture is literally his homescreen? Is he out of his mind?

“Lee Yongbok, you will remove that from your home screen right now,” you say, trying to climb over him in vain as he pouts, “What no, you look so cute.” “I am drooling,” you reason, eyes moving frantically and he kisses you before you burst into palpitations saying, “Yeah that is why it is only for my eyes to see love.”

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ KIM SEUNGMIN ꒱

Seungmin enters the building and reaches the apartment putting in the lock-code. He looks around in confusion as the empty living room greets him and your abandoned slippers lie on the floor. “Y/n?” he calls once before his eyes land on the dim light coming from the bedroom door.

Walking towards it he looks inside as he watches you sleep with a small crochet top half-done. He chuckles lightly as he watches a bit of drool around the corner of your lips. Softly sitting down on the bed, he leans to the side and strokes his fingers over your cheek. You hum in your sleep leaning into his touch making him look at you endearingly.

He shakes you lightly and the movement makes you open your eyes, a hazy vision of Seungmin’s face and you stifle a yawn saying, “Hi.” “Crocheting?” he asks, in a soft and quiet tone and you murmur ‘yes’ and tilt your head against his shoulder as he wraps an arm around your waist easily.

“Keeping this aside for tomorrow,” he murmurs to mostly himself as he shuffles around in the bed, your light snores reaching his ears. He holds you and your head nuzzles against his neck as you two get into a comfortable nap.

੭ㅤ𝅄ㅤ ꒰ YANG JEONGIN ꒱

“Never making stuff with you ever again,” Jeongin complains making you roll your eyes at him. All this drama is because of a crochet hook. “I would rather die than crochet,” he continues and you sigh, there he goes again!

“Yang Jeongin you are insufferable,” you whisper lightly tapping his cheek as he narrows his eyes and says, “How are you doing it anyway?” “By having patience and not sighing with every minor inconvenience,” your snarky reply makes him grin and say, “Well there is my talented person.”

“Buttering me into completing yours won’t work,” you exclaim and he promptly replies, “How about a nice little date with greasy popcorn and cheesy rom-com?”

“Keep talking, it might be working,” you reply and he takes the opportunity to slide his arms around you saying, “All for my pretty baby.” “A kiss on lips and sold,” you whisper making him peck you immediately and you giggle, “Fine we can do this later.”

He enthusiastically puts the items away before running to bring popcorn as you select a show.

ー☆ㅤㅤ [ ara's notes ] ㅤ੭𓂃 ㅤi am sorry but i don’t even know if this is good. i am sorry for the wait too but it was written in the guide i searched up pictures to get what you mean and I hope you like it. ㅤ𓏧ㅤ libraryㅤ skz shelfㅤ navi

੭ 𝅄ㅤ ꒰ TAGLIST ꒱ ㅤ⏤ㅤ @haneagerr @kyrjnie ㅤ𓏧ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we’re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

[maikissed]

post euro Jude Bellingham oneshot felt like writing something like this again, but it's a fluff (I guess?) sorry for typos, was writing like crazy!!!

ps. they’re best friends

A very early morning in Tokyo and you were glued to your laptop, attentively following the occurrences happening on the pitch on the other side of the world. Your eyes bloodshot, your head heavy. You did not get enough sleep since you’ve woken up on very not your usual hour to watch the European Championship final. And to add to that you went to sleep rather late. Sorrowfully, you were not prepared for it’s outcome, as you started picking at your nails, watching the minutes reach the end of the short added time. The final whistle, the final breath that left your lungs as the pictures of true euphoria kept flashing with bright colours at your tired eyes, bright red colours, happy screaming and whistling faces amongst the colour white, shrouded in sadness and defeat. You could not believe it. You were devastated. You were searching for his face but to your dismay the whole attention focused mostly on the true smiles of the cheerful winners. You waited a little bit more and there it was, an icy pain spilling inside your guts at the sight of his gaze, shocked, lost, unfocused. You were sure yours was the spitting image. Quickly you grabbed your phone laying on the nightstand to your right and looked at the last messages exchanged.

“Good luck, big boy. You got this!!!!”

“💪❤️”

You started to type. You stopped for a second and thought about it. What one say at such circumstances? Seemed easy but in fact was not. You knew how Jude was after losing any game, a damned one of the biggest events final must have been a disastrous blow. And he gave his all to it.

“Head up. You were wonderful”

You knew you would not get any more sleep this morning, so you decided to start your day at 6. After two hours of desperately trying to find a purpose in this day, you finally searched for a closest flight home.

Breathing in the England air felt different every time you came back. At some point the same, freshening, enlivening, moist whiff filling your lungs with longing; different with the way you were accepting it each time you were strolling down the very known streets. Every other time it seemed more feeble than before, like you’ve turned into a stranger. Like you did not belong anymore. You wondered why, since it was still your home, your roots. Were you distancing yourself? From home? From family? From him? Were you too preoccupied with all these new, different things? You felt downhearted at the thoughts. 

You reached the doorbell with your slightly numb fingers. Just a minute later Mark opened the door for you. You smiled from under your cap.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” his face bright and smile honest, he reached for you to pull you into a greeting hug.

“Hi” your voice croaky so you cleared your throat “Took a quick flight. Wanted to check on you” 

“Quick? Thought it’s about fourteen hours” his expression amused, yet amazed.

“Something like that” you shrugged.

He nodded at your answer, gently in a thought.

“Please come in, want something to drink?” he turned around vigorously after a second and you followed him into the sitting-room connected with a spacious kitchen.

“I’m alright, thank you”

Not much changed around this house since your last visit, you thought to yourself. And it was quiet.

“Is he with you?” you murmured, almost like a whisper.

“Yes, upstairs”

Still very quiet.

“Asleep?” you asked.

“No, not yet” he commented, smiling at you with solicitude to it “I mean he struggles, more than usually. Mostly spends his days actively but alone, with no space to think too much. Running during the night, training for hours since early morning, sometimes visits the grandparents” his voice calm and stable, simply voicing out the facts but it added to your worry nonetheless.

A process of healing, you thought. But it broke your heart a little bit. You realised there must have been a sign of concern showing on your face because his lit up once again, his eyes smiling at you.

“He’ll be very happy to see you” you watched him beginning to collect some dirty dishes from the kitchen island “You happen to visit during his short rest so I guess he’ll be in his room or the gaming room”

You nodded before silently heading to the corridor leading to the stairs. There was an awful feeling gnawing at you because of your decision to not stay for the rest of the tournament to cheer for him, and leaving back to work after just 2 matches. Despite that he assured you it’s alright, you had your duties after all.

The doors to his room were opened and you took a quick peak around but he wasn’t there, so you turned to the other room, as Mark informed. The doors opened silently, the first thing you spotted was the back of the couch, the big TV in front of it turned off. The top of his head visible as he was sitting comfortably on the said couch. You took a few steps. A book in his hands, you realised and smiled amusingly at the sight. His head still down as he didn’t notice you.

“What’s the book about?” you started circling the couch to come closer.

His eyes shot up from the lecture and the first expression on his features that met your unsure gaze was surprise. He opened his mouth, with no sound at all, no words to voice out, his eyes always big and sparkly now smaller and tarnish. He reached out his hand for you to take it, his face softened. The corner of your mouth rose up as you placed your fingers in his gentle grip, sitting down next to him. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles and that’s when you reached for him to pull him in a hug.

“When did you arrive?” his voice raspy like he did not speak at all for the last few hours. You wondered.

“Two hours ago” you murmured into his arm before he pulled away.

“You crazy girl” he whispered, a bit of light entering his eyes as he examined you in amusement.

You granted him with the softest smile.

“Wanted to see you and tell you I’m proud of you” you shrugged.

Your sight turning blurry in a span of a second. You indeed were more sensitive than you would ever like to admit.

“Flew fifteen hours to tell me you’re proud of me?” he joked, his lips flexing in that funny smirk you knew so well.

“Fourteen” you corrected, making him chuckle in answer “You look tired”

“I am tired” he turned to lean back on the sofa.

“You did a great, invaluable job, you do know that?” after few seconds of silence.

These words made him tense, you could see that. His fingers shot up to his face, to the corners of his closed eyes, he sighed. Your intention was not to stress him, but it seemed it was still a very delicate subject. You reached with your own hand to his face, gently pressing on his cheek so he looked at you. Vulnerable and drained, your touch brining him peace.

“What would you say about a nap?” you asked.

As kids you used to love doing two specific things together during your free time. Playing outside all day, just the two of you or with your friends, until there was no more energy left in your limbs. And then coming back to yours or his to take a nap together. Sometimes short, sometimes lasting few more hours. Cuddled together or him resting on the pillows that were spread out on the floor and you on the bed, sometimes the other way around. Most of the times you were absolutely drained and it happened spontaneously, whatever space you reached first. But you loved to nestle into him, you rested well with his heartbeat palpable on your side. You never confessed. When you were kids it was simple and held no more into it than affection and happiness of two carefree souls.

And now you desperately yearned for him to have some good, cleansing sleep. You wished it could help, to go back a few years and feel it the way it used to made you feel. Safe and calm.

He silently agreed, so you stood up, his hand in yours when you started to walk in the direction of his room. There was a bit of awkwardness to it as you both laid down on the mattress next to each other. There never used to. But you weren’t kids anymore and it didn’t feel as natural as before. Many things didn’t feel like it used too anymore.

You turned your head to look at him, his eyes opened, staring at the ceiling.

“Come here” a whisper, a bit unsure but you hoped he didn’t notice that.

He turned your way and you rose up slightly so your back rested more on the backrest. He looked at you questionably.

“You want me to crush you?” he smiled.

“I’ll be fine” you rolled your eyes at his mocking smirk.

You’ve never been nervous around him, but when he placed his head on your stomach, gently and considerably, and his left hand reached around your waist to rest on your hip, there was a burst of funny sensations inside your belly. Affection, you held so much of it for him.

“Close your eyes” you whispered when your fingers reached his nape to scratch it gently, going down his back slowly and then back up.

“That’s nice” he hummed, his breath hot on the material of your shirt.

“Take some rest”

Minute by minute you could feel him relax more, his weight more prominent, his breathing evening – fifteen minutes later it turned deeper. He did fell asleep, you felt lighter at the realisation.

But after few more minutes you noticed the doors opening silently and you stressed that whomever decided to invade this peace might woke him up. You frowned when you noticed Jobe’s tall figure entering the room. Your expression dangerous as you shook your head at his brother because you were ready to murder him if Jude wakes up now. He smiled widely at the sight and despite your silent threats he circled the bed with an index finger placed lightly on his lips, as a sign that he’ll remain quiet. You followed him with your gaze. Bending over you he placed a quick kiss on your cheek in greeting, your features softened.

“He’s hopeless without you” Jobe whispered in your ear and you did not expect it “Don’t you dare leaving him again” his face funnily serious when he leaned back, turning away to leave you as you were.

You looked down at the boy resting on you, deep in a peaceful sleep, and you started to think heavily how would your life look like if you sacrificed all for everything you felt for him.

A sharp jolt startled you, you opened your eyes realising that sleep quickly overcame you as well. You looked around you quickly, the room turned darker, hours must’ve passed. Jude still laid on you, your legs entwined, but his grip on your side harsher, his body stiff against you. He jumped again, a distressed groan leaving his throat, followed by a quiet whimper, his face pressed hard onto your stomach. He was having a bad dream, you comprehended. You placed your palm on his arm.

“Jude” you whispered, shaking him delicately, but to no avail “Jude, wake up” louder.

He shuddered, his head rose up. After a second he turned to you in a little confusion.

“Y/n” he spoke your name more to himself, like an reassurance.

“I’m here” you confirmed watching his sleepy face, eyes a bit puffy, a few sleep wrinkles created by the material of your shirt visible on his skin.

“Good” he nodded.

He still looked disorientated, like he hasn’t fully woken up from a very deep slumber.

“Come here” he muttered, motioning for you to lay lower next to him.

You did as he asked, noticing a soft ghost of a smile on his lips, while his eyes kept closing involuntarily. You almost laughed out fondly at the sight. You had no time to correctly process his next move when he leaned closer to you and put a quick, sweet peck directly on your lips before whispering:

“Thank you” 

His head rested down on the pillows, his face in the crook of your neck, arm wrapped around you. He fell asleep on the spot and you smiled to yourself, for the deepening darkness to see only. You felt lighter than you’ve felt in years. You belonged, just not where you believed you did in these last few years. You belonged back home.

[revasserium]

A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

32. a note on public health

zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship

summary: a couple of public service announcements.

a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

001. sleep

For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.

You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.

You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.

“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”

This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.

“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”

You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.

“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.

Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.

002. water

Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.

“Hello? What is it?”

“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”

“I’m… at home.”

“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”

Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”

“…Oh! Oops.”

“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”

You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.

“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”

Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”

“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“

“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”

“But…”

“Cancel it. And send me your location.”

Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be. Here.”

You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.

“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”

Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.

“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.

“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”

Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.

“Drink.”

You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.

“Good. Good girl.”

003. sun

To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.

“It’s been raining for forever…”

Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.

You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.

It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.

“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.

“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”

“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”

“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.

“Not yet.”

“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.

He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.

“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.

“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.

He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.

“I suppose it will be.”

“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.

“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”

“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”

He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.

You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.

“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.

He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.

“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”

He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.

The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.

“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.

“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”

“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.

“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”

Zayne holds open the door for you.

“You looked like you were missing the sun.”

Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.

“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”

Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”

[cosmereplay]

Based on RE Parrish's Nathaniel Hawthorne comic which you should definitely check out and like because it's hilarious (click here for a version with an image description)

Sunlit Man spoilers!

Here's my Brando Sando version:

[ID: A four -panel comic done in the same black and white cartoon outline format. The title reads, "Brandon Sanderson Comics". Panel one shows Emily Sanderson saying, "Good morning darling. You look kinda tired." From offscreen Brandon responds, "I couldn't sleep at all last night."

Panel two shows Brandon rubbing his eye, pushing his glasses askew. From off-screen, Emily says, "Pandemic?" He responds, "I kept imagining fucked up Threnodites."

Panel three is titled, "Last night..." Brandon lays in bed wearing a night cap with a fuzzy ball on the end. He imagines a young woman wearing a black brimmed hat and large white collar over a black dress. She has long straight black hair. She says, "My name is Solemnity Divine." Brandon smiles and says, "Heh heh... Yeah..."

Panel four shows Brandon imagining a thin man with a severe expression, wearing the same kind of clothing. He says, "My name is Adonalsium-Will-Remember-Our-Plight-Eventually." Brandon's eyes pop open and he grins an evil grin. He says, "YES" in big letters. End ID.]

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Practice On Me — Part Twelve — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader does what she has to for the information she wants. Talking to Azriel takes an interesting turn. Kaeda’s not doing her job, and she’s feeling a bit sorry for herself — to which Cassian isn’t very sympathetic.

Word Count: 9.6k. OOF. A long one, sorry!

Warnings: None.

You should really just go to sleep. Mind your own business.

But you find yourself waiting. Listening. For some indication that Tathaln has left.

You think it might be hours that pass. Roza has long since passed out in her bed. But there’s no chance of you sleeping, too. Not with all the thoughts that are crammed full in your head and speaking too loudly.

The most pressing of which: Why the fuck would the Lord of Fenlaros be visiting the High Lord in his private home in this private city?

No other camp lords venture here, you’re sure. Don’t even know it exists.

And yet, from that short glimpse you got of Finadar and Tathaln, there was an air of…familiarity, about them. Like it wasn’t the first time they were privately meeting.

Eventually, you grow sick of waiting, wondering. It’s no use. You’re restless and wired and churned up. You need to move, to stretch your legs, grab a drink or something.

The house is eerily still. You take your time traversing the corridors, carefully listening out to catch lowered voices and hushed tones. Even decide to take the longer route — the one that would take you past the High Lord’s study. But even as you pass by the thick wooden door, you hear nothing but the distant sounds of a hooting owl and the slicing wind amidst the mountains.

You’re almost at the kitchen when a figure abruptly rounds the corner on too-light feet. You stop short — and so does the High Lord.

You’re so stunned that you forget yourself. It takes a moment for you to remember to act accordingly. You bow your head in greeting. “My Lord.”

“Y/N.” Your name sounds funny, too familiar, on his tongue. When Rhysand had brought you here at fourteen, Finadar had merely referred to you as that girl. It seems that with age comes at least a little bit of acknowledgment. His eyes rake over you, and you’re suddenly aware of your nightgown, your unbound hair. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“A little, my Lord—”

“Just Fin, please.”

You pause. And then smile a bland smile. “A little…Fin.”

He holds up the object you hadn’t noticed clutched within his hand. A bottle. “I was just about to have a night cap. Perhaps you’d like to join me?”

On instinct, you want to decline. Having a private drink with Rhysand’s father seems…inappropriate, somehow.

But then that curious little voice in your head reminds you that this — this is the perfect opportunity to ask some questions, hopefully garner information. He’s relaxed. Open. In his own environment. What better time than now?

So that bland smile becomes a pretty one, and you dip your chin. “It would be my pleasure.”

With that charming smile of his own, the handsome male leads you to his study and holds the door open for you. Stepping inside feels like breaching somewhere firmly forbidden, and a place of such luxury that it would chew up your poor-to-do self and spit you out. All rich mahogany wood and more books than you’ve ever seen in your life. Trinkets and papers and maps and war strategy. The sight leaves you a little breathless, and for a moment, you forget you’re not alone.

But then the door shuts behind you, and the High Lord is striding past, over to his desk.

“You’ve been a friend of my son’s for a while, now, haven’t you?” He asks casually, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows.

You step closer, nodding. “I have, My Lo—Fin. Nine years, to be exact.”

“And you’re his age?”

“Yes. Twenty.”

A vague smile plays on his lips. “Old enough to drink, then, Please, do sit.”

You do exactly that, taking a seat in one of the plush, cushioned chairs and folding your hands in your lap. And for all you had planned to speak with Fin, now that you’re in front of him, you’re not quite sure what to say. You don’t know how to talk to someone of such high status.

He’s entirely at confident — even arrogant — ease, though. With a wave of a hand, a fire roars to life, breathing heat into the room and bathing it in an intimate glow. He pours two glasses of dark, smoky liquid and hands one to you before taking his own.

Instead of sitting at his desk as you half expect, he’s slumping into the armchair beside yours and tipping his head against its back.

He looks…tired, you note, as you subtly study him over the lip of your glass. Devastatingly beautiful — there’s no doubt about that. Chocolate eyes that remind you of Mor’s and short, reddish-brown hair. His generously muscled arms push through his shirt as he shifts.

And then he says, out of the blue, “I don’t sleep well, either.”

You’re not sure why he’s telling you that, of all things.

“I’m sorry.” It seems like an appropriate response. “I imagine, in being High Lord, you must have a lot on your plate.”

A wry smile graces his lips. “There’s always someone wanting something from you.” His eyes then drink you in again. “What is it you do in Windhaven? I take it you’re unwed. I don’t remember approving a marriage for you.”

“I am. Until recently, I lived with and worked for my father. But my circumstances have changed, and I don’t know what I’ll be doing next.”

“Was it your father who took your wings?”

Heat burns your cheeks. “It was.”

“Is that what you want from me? To punish him?”

You stare back at him, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “Who says I want anything from you?”

“Do you not?”

“…It was you who invited me for a drink, My Lord. I can leave if my company is bothersome to you—”

“It is not.” He lays a hand on your arm, skin far smoother than you expect from somebody so accustomed to weapons. “But there’s no reason we can’t both get something out of this.”

Your eyes fall down to that hand, and your body is so very still. Perhaps you’ve made a grave mistake in seeking him out.

But you dare ask, “What is it you want?”

A chuckle rasps out of him, and he retracts the touch. “Honesty. I get the sense that you’re of the curious sort. Why else would you have been so intently watching me greet my guest earlier this evening?”

So, he’d seen you. Silly, for you to assume that you could slip into the shadows around such a powerful being. You can almost feel that power prowling under his skin right now.

“I am interested,” you admit, “in what Tathaln Baralas was doing here.”

“You’re familiar with him.” He states — and then chuckles again. “Of course, you are. You were one of the ones who snuck off to Fenlaros for a party. I wasn’t best pleased when my son told me.” His head falls into a tilt. “But why would you be interested in Tathaln’s business here?”

“I may not be from Fenlaros, but I am Illyrian. And I imagine that a matter that warrants a meeting at the High Lord’s personal residence is one pressing enough to effect more than just a single camp.”

Full lips — Rhysand’s lips — tilt upwards. “Beautiful, curious and intelligent. Such a waste in a place like Illyria.”

“You’re too kind.”

“And you are too bashful.” A quiet intensity lies within his brown eyes. “I will reward your candour with this: Tathaln Baralas was here to suggest — request — a grand ball.”

For a split second, you falter. Try not to let it show on your face that you do.

The answer is…underwhelming. Perhaps you’re so idle in Velaris that you’re looking for drama where it doesn’t exist.

“A ball.” You repeat the word rather foolishly, like it’s your first time ever saying it. “I…I wasn’t aware that a Camp Lord would need your permission to arrange such a thing.”

“Confined to his own camp, he would not.” Fin tells you. “But the Lord of Fenlaros proposes something on a far larger scale. Something that has never before been done, and something that, I must admit, has piqued my interest.”

“Which is what?”

“Tathaln,” the High Lord stands, draining his glass and returning it to his desk, “has asked me to throw an Illyrian ball — not solely a Fenlarion ball. Meaning the best legions from all Illyrian war camps will be invited, along with their wives, mates, whatever. They will all gather in one place for this event, and interact as they never have before.”

You stare at him.

You do not mean for your indignation to shine through so freely.

He is your High Lord and not to be disrespected.

But you’re studying him, and wondering why the fuck he doesn’t look as alarmed by the suggestion as you feel.

“Why, by the Cauldron, would he want to do that?” The words fall from your mouth, formality forgotten. “There’s a reason it’s never been done before. Rival camps do not mix because Illyrians are hot-headed and driven by ego, and there would be fights and bloodshed and probably death. It’s a terrible idea. I don’t understand why Tathaln Baralas would suggest such a thing.”

A deep chortle husks out of the High Lord, and you could be wrong, but you think there might be a hint of surprise in the sound. Like he’s unused to such brazenness from his subjects — female ones, in particular.

You asked a damn good question, though.

Fin turns to you, and for a lingering moment, he simply stares. And then he says, softly, “Stand.”

You pause. Think that maybe, you’ve spoken too much, crossed a line. But you stand.

The High Lord beckons you closer.

You take one step forward. Another. Another. He lifts a hand and motions for you to stop. You do. You smooth your hands over your nightgown. Think you might be shaking a little.

You do not need a wealth of knowledge nor experience to recognise exactly how it is that he looks at you.

Deep, tawny eyes trail the length of you and seem to miss no detail. Your loose hair and pretty, open face. The sharp lines of your collarbones and the smooth skin of your decolletage. The flowing silk of your nightgown and the bareness of your legs and arms on show beneath it.

He stares at you in a way that makes you feel you’re wearing nothing at all.

And then he’s prowling closer with preternatural grace, and the heat and scent of his body seems to snuff out the heat and scent of the fire.

You can only stand, your legs wobbling a little, as he begins to circle you, peruse you, like a predator assessing its prey. You might hold your breath a little. You’re not sure what he plans to do, whether you’re to be reprimanded for your candidness. When he raises his hand, you hope you don’t flinch. You learned not to do so, not to show your fear, in the years living under your father’s thumb.

But his hand merely cups the curve of your shoulder and sweeps a few strands of your hair back.

“Give me what I want, Y/N.” He says, his voice gritty. “And I will tell you what Tathaln wants.”

This is all starting to feel like a huge oversight. A mistake. If this goes too far — if he suggests something that would disrespect Roza in any way…

You’d sooner be reprimanded, however badly.

Your eyes shutter, and you speak again, “What is it you want?”

Fin slinks round until he’s stood before you. The mild smile on his lips hides so much. “If I’m to oversee an event with all the camps under my rule,” he says, “I want to look good. I’m a victim of extreme vanity, you see. Appearances are everything. And thus, I would go before my subjects with the prettiest little piece at my side.” His eyes drink in your face, unpainted and unguarded. “You would do nicely.”

You’re not certain that your breath of relief is a silent one. The suggestion could be far worse, of course, but anxious butterflies are still all aflutter in your gut.

It would be prudent to remember who you’re talking to — who it is you’re playing games with. To remember that you are just a young female from Windhaven, with no experience outside of it. You are not a seasoned courtier, and you do not know the rules of the game — how to play them, nor how to break them.

You clear your throat, lowering your gaze. “Forgive me, My Lord. Whilst I’m undoubtedly flattered…I must admit to also being confused. Won’t Roza fulfil the role at your side?”

“Roza will attend no more public appearances for the remainder of her pregnancy — a decision we came to together. She is far too tired and must rest. And she’s fully aware that I will need to invite a special guest in her place.”

“But if you’re trying to make an impression before your Illyrian subjects…I am the last female who would bring you any glory. I am ordinary. I do not have wings—”

“You do yourself a disservice, Y/N.” His slow footsteps begin again. “The likes of your father have got into your head, I fear. What I see, looking at you now, is not these.” Warm fingers touch your ruined back, and you jerk a little. “What I see is the embodiment of classic Illyrian beauty. Just as I see in my Roza. You may not know this, but they tried to take her wings, too. Until I stopped them. It — we — would send a message, don’t you think? That your repulsive father may have taken your wings, but he did not take your spirit. Your beauty. And that spirit and beauty earned you a place at the High Lord’s side. Perhaps I’ll invite your father, and his punishment can be the night’s entertainment.”

It's…strange. Conflicting. Because the High Lord is saying things that you so often long to hear. The shattered, self-loathing part of your brain perks up and leans into the compliments like a pampered cat, waiting to hear more, to be stroked.

But then there’s an angry part of you — one that wishes to yell at him that if he truly abhorred the practice of wing clipping, he would ban it altogether instead of keeping himself in the favour of Illyrians and simultaneously bashing their views and traditions behind their backs.

So many feelings. And yet, you try to remember why you’re here.

Because something eats away at you that whatever Tathaln Baralas is up to will impact Azriel somehow. At least as long as he’s with Kaeda.  

So you lift your chin and ask, “I agree to be your special guest to the ball, and you tell me what the Lord of Fenlaros is up to? It’s that easy?”

Fin chuckles. Stops in front of you again. “It’s that easy.” He inclines his head. “As I said, I am of the vain sort — and this is merely a thing of vanity. I’d rather enjoy parading one of my son’s pretty playthings on my arm. Letting those Illyrian males know that I could have any of their females if I wanted. And the fact that I don’t particularly care for Tathaln Baralas means that I don’t particularly care to hold on too tightly to his secrets, either.”

You don’t bother correcting him about the nature of yours and Rhys’s relationship. Seems irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. And if your only role in this is to dress up and look pretty at the High Lord’s side, you reckon you’ve gotten off pretty damn lightly.

For a moment, there, you really thought he might want…more.

“Alright.” You stand up straight. “I will gladly be your guest to the ball.”

He smiles an odd smile, like he knew you would agree all along. With his arm brushing yours as he closely passes, he makes his way back over to his desk. Refills his glass and yours. Hands it to you.

“The reason the Lord of Fenlaros wants an Illyrian ball,” he says, “is because he seeks a situation in which he can have an eye on all camps — and vet their talent.”

“Vet their…” Your brow pinches. “What?”

“Tathaln, Y/N, has a vision in mind.” Fin turns to you, perching on the edge of the desk. “One that, I have to admit, did pique my interest — if it were to work. You see, he’s of the opinion that Illyria should, eventually, do away with the individual camps entirely. He’d sooner have one huge camp — that he would be Lord of, of course, and have a team of the strongest, most powerful Illyrians working alongside him to train the most fearsome army in the entirety of the Fae realm.”

“That’s preposterous. Cramming all Illyrians into one camp under one lord would mean the eye would be taken off the ball quicker than lightning. How could an army that big be adequately trained by a small team of leaders, no matter how powerful? Even the strongest soldiers couldn’t keep command of such numbers. That is why the individual camps work. Weaknesses get smoothed out and strengths are honed.”

The fire in your tone seems to amuse the High Lord. And you wonder if Illyria isn’t unlike a dolls house to him. Figures he can pluck up and move around and pit against each other for his own entertainment.

“Tathaln would disagree with you.” He smiles. “He believes that the individual camps only create room for complacency, a lack of order. He thinks that your kind spend more time drinking and fucking and fighting amongst themselves than they do training for combat. And he thinks that if something isn’t done about it, the next war could wipe Illyria off the map.”

“And he believes himself to be a strong enough Camp Lord to somehow fix that?”

“Alone? Gods, no. He’s an arrogant brute, but not a stupid one. No,” He says again. “See, this unit he would build wouldn’t be just made up of highly-skilled warriors.”

“Then what?”

“Illyrians with further powers. Special abilities.” Fin’s eyes track over your face, waiting for the realisation to dawn. “Like a shadowsinger, for example.”

And finally, it’s like light blotting out the clueless darkness of your head. Suddenly, it all falls into place.

You don’t know why you didn’t see it before.

“Tathaln wants Azriel under his command.” The words are ash on your tongue.

“Yes.” Fin nods. “He does. And there are other males in other camps, too, with their own, unique abilities. Tathaln wants this ball to see them up close. Pick them out. If things go his way, he would have those males defecting from their current camps and making a home in Fenlaros. There, they would train — and begin bringing Tathaln’s vision to life.”

Azriel leaving Windhaven…moving to another camp and not being around to talk to, to spend mindless hours with, to face life with — the thought is like a cold, cruel stab to your heart.

Your friends are what make Windhaven bearable. Together, you’ve built a little home there, a family. And you may all be at each other’s throats right now, but you love each other. Wouldn’t want to lose each other.

The idea of no longer seeing Az makes you want to puke up the two glasses of whiskey now swimming in your stomach.

And even more sickening is the further realisation—

Kaeda is Tathaln’s daughter — his puppet on a string.

It was never a coincidence that she randomly started floating around Windhaven. Wasn’t a natural thing at all, that she’d found interest in Azriel, of all people. The only shadowsinger.

The entire thing had been carefully orchestrated.

Kaeda’s interest in Az isn’t genuine. Her father specifically sent her to Windhaven to get him on side.

You think you might actually be sick. Suddenly, the High Lord’s study seems far too small.

“Why would you allow any of this?” You manage to grit out around your growing panic. “You’re the High Lord…if you tell Tathaln no, he can’t take it any further.”

Fin shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “As I said — his vision piqued my interest. It’s not a bad idea, provided it would be executed properly. But if it were? Imagine the glory. The power. The Night Court would boast the most steeled army in Prythian. Battle would be mere child’s play to us.”

You…no. No. You can’t sit back and act like you don’t know any of this.

Azriel needs to be told. He needs to know what games Kaeda is playing — that she’s only interested in doing her father’s bidding, pouring honeyed words into Az’s ear to coax him out of Windhaven and into their ready, waiting trap. To use him. Exploit him.

You need to tell him. Even if he goes straight back to being angry with you after, still doesn’t want to speak to you…you need to.

With shaking hands, you place your glass down. “I…I’m quite tired. I think I’ll try, again, to sleep.” There’s no chance of that. “Thank you for the drink. And the conversation.”

Fin’s head falls into a tilt. He looks…intrigued. “Thank you for the company. And I’ve no doubt I can trust you to uphold your end of our arrangement.”

You nod. Hate the words as you speak them. “I will be your guest at the ball.”

“I’ll be in touch, then. Goodnight.”

You only just manage to return the sentiment as you slip out of the room, the cold hallways making a grab for your bare skin. Fin’s words haunt you all the way back to your room. Keep you awake all through the night.  Bury themselves deep in your mind, your heart, and fill you with such an icy-cold fear, you feel you may never be warm again.

You have to tell Azriel — or you may lose him for good.

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The next morning, over tea and pastries and your rushed retelling of the night before, Roza stares at you.

Her expression is unreadable.

“You’re angry with me.” You breathe, the very words pinching at your heart. “I understand. But I needed to find out what Tathaln Baralas was up to. I just knew that—”

“Angry with you?” She cuts you off. “No, my love. With Fin? Yes. That he’s even entertaining this idea of that odious Camp Lord’s, and that his ego is so great that he would parade you on his arm like nothing more than prize cattle. That, I am angry with.” Her eyes sweep your face with concern — and a hint of something else. Something like…admiration. “You, however…you remind me exactly of myself when I was your age. Scheming, pushing back against what’s simply wrong…and in the name of love, too. I cannot possibly be angry with you for that.”

Your eyes fall to your plate. Love. That word rings in your ears like a war cry. “I need to do this. For Azriel. He’s being used, and—”

“I know.” Roza reaches over, closing a hand over yours. “Believe me, I know. And you have my full blessing and support. But you also have my concern. The games of Courts and High Lords and Camp Lords are dangerous ones. Do what you need to do for Azriel — for love — but have your wits about you. Do not, at any point, let them best you. And if Fin tries to take your agreement any further and lays a hand on you, come and tell me straight away, and I will fucking castrate him—”

Her words are cut short by a night-chilled shroud, darkness-given-form, despite the morning light that bathes the room.

Rhysand appears out of thin air. “Who will you castrate, mother dear?”

“You.” Roza says without a beat, scowling at her son. “What have I told you about just appearing like that? You’re showing off. It’s rude.”

“But I’m so good at it.” He strides closer, kissing her cheek and then yours. And steals the remainder of your pastry. “Ready to go?”

You’d sent a note a little over an hour ago, asking Rhys to come get you and fly you to Windhaven. You didn’t specify that you were going to talk to Az — and potentially break his heart with the information you’d garnered last night.

Rhys, of course, had written back that he’d be more than willing to oblige — as soon as Zakai was done sucking his cock.

Indeed, your friend looks particularly flushed and sated as he swallows your food and washes it down with a gulp of your tea.

“Rhysand.” Roza scolds. “Have some damn manners. Will you steal food from the babe, too?”

“Well, considering you’ll be breastfeeding her, mother dearest, absolutely not—”

“Her?” You blink between them. “You know it’s a girl?”

Roza smiles softly, sliding a hand over her stomach. “Not for certain. But the healer seems pretty sure. Her magic can detect these things, and she says she’s never gotten it wrong in all her years.”

“Gods, I hope so.” Rhys’s violet eyes glitter. “I’ve said from the start that I’m hoping for a sister.”

And you can see it already — Rhys throwing himself into the role of older brother. Protecting that little girl with his whole heart. She’d be the luckiest child in all of Prythian to have Rhys for a brother. And to have Cassian and Azriel protecting her, too…

That is, if Azriel doesn’t choose to go to Fenlaros.

Your stomach turns all over again at the thought. No — you need to speak with him, to warn him. He wouldn’t leave.

“Let’s go.” You stand abruptly, your breakfast feeling leaden in your stomach.

“Much obliged.” Rhys sketches a flourishing bow, to which Roza rolls her eyes. He kisses her cheek again. “Take it easy. I love you.”

Roza inclines her head. “I love you both.”

Its as you, too, dip down to kiss her cheek, that she lays a gentle hand on your arm. Concern swims in her eyes.

“Be careful, my little dove.” She pleads quietly. “Not just of the game you’re playing — but of your heart, too. Protect it.”

The words echo in your mind too loudly as Rhys takes your hand and steals you away.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Twenty years in Windhaven should have you at least a little accustomed to the brutal temperatures, but landing your feet on the packed snow makes you wonder if even a whisper of the spring season will kiss these parts. It seems to lurk on the horizon, just out of reach.

As Rhys dusts flecks of snow from his jacket, you glance down at your pathetic, worn boots. The very boots that seemed to start this entire godsdamned situation with Az. It was these that made him scoop you into his arms and carry you to the mead hall, where you shared that first, heated kiss on one of the tables—

“What are you staring at?” Rhys hovers at your side.

“Nothing.” You straighten yourself up. Hope your blush can pass for cold-bitten skin. “Do you know where Azriel is? I’d like to speak with him.”

“Sparring rings, I’d presume.”

You nod, and you go to head off in the other direction, but Rhys’s hand is enclosing around yours. He squeezes gently. “Send word when you want me to come get you.”

The sentiment promises more than just safe transport back to Velaris. It offers support, too — in the likely scenario that this conversation doesn’t go smoothly.

Because you have to consider the possibility that the truth about Kaeda, while needing to be exposed, may not be well received.

Azriel will likely be hurt by it. And you might bear the brunt of that.

Rhysand will be there for you, whatever happens. Even if he has no clue what’s going on.

So you squeeze back, and you offer an unconvincing smile as you let go. “I love you, Rhysand.”

He scowls. “Don’t like it when you call me Rhysand.”

“Sorry, Rhysand.”

“You’re a little shit. But I love you, too.”

You smile wider. That little bit of jesting is what gives you the courage, the strength, to square your shoulders and stroll away from him, snow seeping into your boots with each step.

By the time you get to the sparring rings, you think your feet might be frozen solid. But lo and behold, Azriel is there, currently going head-to-head with another male in his unit.

The very sight is the picture of a hard-trained warrior — a dance, a performance, of flying fists and measured breaths. Az is big and muscled, but he’s lithe and swift, and he moves through each step and dodges each blow and delivers his own as though it’s easy as air. He’s flawless, and for a heartbeat, all you can do is watch, every thought eddying from your mind.

But then he’s dodging a flying fist and pivoting on his feet. His eyes catch you. He’s distracted long enough for his partner to grab the upper hand and knock Az off his feet.

The shadowsinger accepts defeat. He sprawls on his back, panting heavily, and you continue to watch as his opponent grins and offers a hand to help him up.

“Distracted by a female?” He jokes. “I thought you were better than that, shadowsinger.”

A tight smile forms and falls from Az’s lips. He hates losing. “It would seem not. Well fought.”

“I’ll leave you and your lady to it.” The other male says, and you choose to ignore the suggestion in his voice. Azriel ignores it, too. Doesn’t even acknowledge him as he strolls away, no doubt to boast to his insufferable friends that he managed to get one over on the shadowsinger.

Az looks at you in that quiet, assessing way of his. Surveys you head to toe, like he needs to reassure himself that your short stay in Velaris has brought you no harm thus far. It’s good that he still cares, you think. You hope.

“You’re back?” He asks, grabbing a towel to wipe at his face. It’s then that you notice that his lip is bleeding a little.

“Not entirely.” You shake your head. “I…need to talk to you about something. Something important.”

And whether he’s ready to talk to you yet, or not, is irrelevant — he seems to realise that as he studies you once more and nods. “We’ll go to the dorms. Nobody’s there.”

You hate this, you want to tell him. The awkwardness. The…the stagnancy of your relationship. It was never supposed to be like this between you and him. It hurts.

And it makes you realise that love isn’t always beautiful.

But you school your expression as he finally closes the gap between you. He glances down, and a soft sigh escapes him. “Those fucking boots.”

Before you can say something, anything, find some way to defend your continued wearing of those fucking boots, Azriel is grabbing your hand. The unexpected touch jolts you — as does the zip through thin air that has you landing in the kitchenette of the dorms only seconds later.

Despite possessing the ability to winnow, Azriel avoids it at all costs, if he can. Something about the practice unsettles him, and he doesn’t believe he’s ever refined it enough to use it reliably.

So, the fact that he just winnowed you to the dorms either means that he still cares enough to get you out of the cold, or he wants to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

Gods, you hope it’s the former.

“Stay there.” He murmurs, and he’s turning on his feet. You want to stop him and tell him it’s imperative that you speak immediately — but you can only watch as he strides in the direction of his room.

Moments later, he’s strolling back through — a pair of his own, thick socks in his hands.

You might just soften and crumble enough to forget about the conversation and throw your arms around him. Even now, he’s still looking out for you, making sure you’re taken care of.

You plead with yourself not to get choked up over a pair of socks. But you just…miss him. Miss this. And you think that shows as you hold a hand out and rasp, “Thank you.”

“Let me.” Is all Az replies. He drops to his knees before you.

Your mind goes quiet.

Gods.

The last thing you expected, from coming here, was to see Az knelt at your feet.

And it’s so fucking inappropriate, but as he begins to unlace your boots, your stupid, pathetic brain begins to lament on what a damn shame it is, that you didn’t get to behold this sight, have him on his knees, when things were still good between you. Maybe there’s something wrong with you.

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Need to make sure you’re warm.” He chucks your sodden boots aside, yanks your socks off. Dries your poor, pinkened feet. Tugs his own socks — so big on you that he has to bunch them at the ankles — onto them. And then rises to his feet. “I’ll get a fire going.”

His fussing over you has always bordered on outright hysterical.

“Azriel.” Finally, you lay a firm hand on his arm. Stop him. “I need to talk to you.”

The way he goes so very still at your touch has you realising — all this fussing is to avoid simply…looking at you. Facing you. He’s trying to busy himself in your presence.

But he does look at you. Lifts his gaze to yours. And there’s grit in his voice as says, “I know I fucked up, Y/N. I shouldn’t have reacted to you and Cassian the way I did. I had no right.”

“I’m not here about that—”

“I was angry because I was so damn jealous. And that’s irrational, and I know it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stand the thought of him…anyone else…putting their hands—”

“It’s Kaeda, Az. She’s using you.”

Finally, you’ve won his silence. His arm tenses under your hand. His eyes burn into yours.

“I learned it from the High Lord himself.” The words are so, so sour on your tongue. You hate this. Hate the truth — for Az. “Tathaln Baralas is trying to round up the most powerful Illyrians of each camp and have them under his command in Fenlaros. Eventually, he wants there to be only one camp — that he rules over. He covets you because you’re a shadowsinger, and he sent Kaeda here to cosy up to you and do his bidding, win you over. She’s been working for him—”

He tugs away from your touch. Takes a step back. And the anger, the hurt, that you expect to find on his face just…isn’t there.

“I know all of this.” He says, simply.

“You—what?”

“I had dinner with Kaeda and her family. Tathaln laid his idea out to me and asked me to go to Fenlaros. He was completely open about it.”

You study him, waiting for some vague indication that he’s angry at Kaeda’s manipulation. But he seems entirely nonchalant.

It stings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You hate how small your voice sounds.

“Well, you and I haven’t exactly been talking—”

“I’d think a situation like thiswould override that.”

“Kind of had other things on my mind, though, haven’t I?”

“Well did you tell Tathaln he can shove his fucking vision up his ass?”

Silence.

Silence, and then the rustle of Az’s wings as he shifts on his feet.

Loud, loud silence.

You think your heart might plummet into your stomach. Your mouth goes dry. You stare at him, every inch of him, desperate for some sort of sign that his silence isn’t saying what you fear it’s saying.

But gods, it’s so very telling.

“Please tell me you’re not considering it,” you breathe.

He doesn’t answer straight away. He looks at his feet and shifts on the spot and takes his time answering like your heart isn’t thundering in anticipation.

And then he says, quietly, “I told Kaeda I would consider it.”

The words steal the air from your lungs. The picture of a Windhaven without Azriel’s presence suddenly doesn’t seem like a blurred, unlikely one. Feels like it’s being dangled in front of your face.

“What?” Your voice is weak.

“I just…told her I’d think about it.”

“Why?”

“The idea isn’t a bad one—I could hone my skills, put them to use—”

“You could also kiss goodbye to any ties you have to this place! To your family, to—to me!”

Cauldron fucking damn your voice for cracking the way it does. You’re going to break in front of him, and it’s going to be bad. You can feel your chest tightening, the idea of losing Azriel for good making you breathless and panicked and like you don’t know what to do with yourself, your hands, your entire body.

“Y/N.” Az says softly. “I haven’t given a definitive answer.”

“But you’re thinking about it.” You choke. “You’re considering it—leaving. Do the others know about this? Rhys and Cassian?”

“No. Haven’t really been speaking to them, either.”

“Is that all part of it? Distancing yourself from us until you sever your ties completely? Are you truly so angry with me that you’d choose this? To not see me anymore?”

You know immediately what you’ve said.

To not see me. Rhys and Cassian not included.

Azriel catches it, too. He purses his lips, and he stares at you.

“This isn’t about that.” He insists.

“You never would have considered this before I lay with Cassian—”

“This isn’t about distancing myself because you fucked Cassian! It’s because I want you and that terrifies me!”

The words, hard and solid as iron daggers, are actually enough to calm your growing panic. You feel them land, piercing through your skin and spreading a wanton, longing venom through your veins. You’ve spent days — weeks — caught up in your thoughts, trying to accept the fact that you want Azriel. You want Azriel. More than you ever had before.

And perhaps it says a lot about how you perceive yourself, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he might want you back.

Hearing it is heart-stopping.

You clear away what feels like a patchwork of hoarfrost that’s frozen over your throat. “I—thought you wanted Kaeda.”

Azriel makes a noise; something like a humourless laugh. “Believe me, I tried. But I don’t. I want you, so much that it burns. Burns me worse than what scarred my fucking hands. I’ve never felt like this before. I’m sick with it. I can’t sleep for thinking about you, wanting you beside me. I can’t stop myself aching for you and I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Blow after blow after blow, these words. Sour and sweet, pleasant and horrific, love and hate. You feel like you know everything and nothing at once. Like you understand what he’s saying but not quite.

But your honest response croaks out of you, “And if I want you, too? What then?”

Azriel’s jaw ticks. And he presses himself hard against the wall as if he’s trying to disappear through it. “Then,” he says, “that makes it even worse.”

“Because you’d sooner run off to another camp than give yourself to a pathetic excuse for an Illyrian like me, right?”

“Because I would sooner damn myself to a miserable existence in Fenlaros than allow this to turn into another thing of beauty that could be ripped straight from my hands. I’d sooner not see you at all than have you and lose you. And I’d rather base my decision on hypotheticals and protect my heart than give it away and wish I never had. If that makes me selfish—”

“It makes you,” you grit your teeth hard, blink furiously through forming tears, “a fucking coward.”

He pauses. “Then I’m a coward.”

But he isn’t. Never has been. Not when he was locked up in his hateful father’s keep and forced to bear his half-brothers’ twisted cruelty. Not when he came to Windhaven and was targeted here, too, simply for being different. Not through anything you’ve faced together in nine years of friendship.

Azriel has never been a coward. You will not accept it. You will not let him become one.

If he wants you like he says he does…you’re not going to let him have the sole choice of ruining this. He can try to push you away, but you’ll push back ten times harder.

“You think I’m not scared?” You move away from the counter, taking slow steps closer to him. “I am. I’m petrified. But fear is not cowardice. To fear and to face it head-on is to be brave, Azriel. When have you ever balked from fear?”

He’s watching you near him with what seems to be nerves. He swallows. “Never. But I know which of my battles to pick.”

You slow to a stop in front of him. Your body is inches from his, and his warmth and scent are like a punch to your gut. “It isn’t a battle to want.”

“No,” he agrees. “But it’s a battle to need.” So blatantly — he doesn’t try to hide it — his eyes drift to your mouth. “I was wrong before. I don’t want you. I need you.”

“And you’d rather run from that. You’d rather run than need me.”

“…Yes. I think I would.”

Finally, you close the miniscule gap between your bodies, slamming your hands either side of him, against the wall. You fight the curling of your lips when you hear his breath catch in his throat.

“What are you waiting for, Azriel?” You challenge. “Run.”

He pauses.

He does not run.

He snarls, and he grabs you by your jacket, and he hauls your mouth to his.

He tastes like the tang of sweat and blood, but also like the heavy fir trees that guard the mountains, and the crackling of a roaring fire, and the fresh berries he puts in his breakfast every morning without fail. He tastes like Azriel, and you think that taste might be the answer to every dark thought and doubt that has ever plagued your mind.

Without hesitation, you're bunching your hands in his shirt and pulling yourself against him, close as you can possibly get. This kiss is not a sweet kiss in the name of tentative practice. This kiss is a reckoning, and a choice, and it’s the past nine years in flashing moments that have led you up to this point.

Azriel makes a low, wanting sound and flips the script, using his grip on your jacket to spin you both until you’re the one pushed against the wall, and he’s pressing you there. Slotting a firm, muscled thigh between your legs. He pulls his mouth away from yours to pepper quick, biting kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. You gasp, and he gasps back.

“I want you.” His voice almost sounds like a plea — a plea for some solution to this. As though it’s a problem. “I can’t stop myself wanting you.”

“So don’t.” You breathe back, pushing the very centre of you against his thigh. “Stay in Windhaven and forget about everything else. Stay with me. Have me.”

“You make it sound so easy—”

“It is.” You pull his mouth back to yours. “It’s easy. We can be easy. We can be—”

Just down the hall, the opening of the front door cuts your words right off. Footsteps follow. It’ll just be a male returning from training, but it seems to send a tidal wave of ice-cold reality straight over the two of you. Azriel stares down at you, lips parted, still panting.

The nameless male passes by without even sparing either of you a glance. Azriel pulls away.

He turns his back to you and rakes a hand through his hair. You can only watch. So fast, he’s facing you again.

“I—I need you to give me time to register all of this.” He swallows. “I can’t…think right now.”

Do the words sting? Yes. Were you hoping that he would just impulsively let go of his fears and say fuck it? Absolutely.

You should be angry. You should tell him that if he truly wants you, needs you, then he shouldn’t need to think.

But something about the lost expression on his face speaks to you. He’s always been guarded. Always struggled to face his emotions head-on. So many years he spent locked up, trying to convince himself that the loneliness didn’t ache, that his heart didn’t wish.

If you push him right now…it’ll end up with him further away from you.

So it’s the hardest thing in the world to straighten yourself out and pretend your lips aren’t tingling, begging for another taste of his mouth. It’s an effort to put how you feel aside for his sake.

But maybe it’ll be for your sake, too. You are angry…somewhere beneath all the longing, the passion. He didn’t tell you about Tathaln’s proposition. He’d been considering it without consulting any of you. That hurts.

He watches you, waits for you to say something, as you reach for your boots and tug them back on. You came here to tell him what you’d found out, and you’ve done just that — and then some.

When you’ve laced up your shoes, only then do you look at him. Try to hide the bleakness from your face.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” You tell him, and it’s a promise. “But can you do me a favour?”

His eyes sweep over your face, and he nods. “Always.”

“Before you make a decision about Fenlaros…” You actually have to stop yourself and swallow down the lump that forms at the words. You try again, “Before you make a decision about Fenlaros, please just…talk to Rhys and Cass first. The three of you have been a strong unit forever. Forget the troubles that we’ve had and just…just remind yourself of what you’d be leaving behind. Fix things with them. Talk to them.”

He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. Nods. “Alright.”

“You don’t need me, Az.” You say as you turn away from him. “But them? You’ll always need them.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The strutting confidence with which Kaeda Baralas usually carries herself is entirely absent as she enters her father’s study.

Her wings are limp — a telltale sign of nerves, intimidation — and it’s an effort to keep them from drooping.

Wings are supposed to be worn proudly. Hers were left intact for a reason. Never will she forget that fact.

Tathaln sits behind his desk, oozing authority, even through menial tasks like going through his correspondence. As Kaeda stops before him and threads her fingers together, she feels much like the younger version of herself — that little girl always trying to think of ways to impress her papa.

“Well?” Tathaln asks without looking up.

The female clears her throat. “He still hasn’t given me an answer.”

Her father pauses, goes deathly still. Kaeda hates that stillness. Dreads it. Knows it means she’s disappointed him.

The Camp Lord places his pen down, and he asks, his tone slicing, “And why have your efforts not been enough to glean an answer?”

Kaeda purses her lips. “I’m trying, father. It’s — he’s harder than I anticipated. I didn’t expect him to be so attached to Windhaven.”

She watches, stomach turning, as the great male before her stands and rounds the desk. He perches on the other side of it and studies his daughter.

“Your brothers seem to be having no problems with the missions I gave them.” He tells her. “Why do you let me down?”

How is she supposed to answer that? Azriel is simply…not what she expected. He’s unlike all the Illyrian males she’s surrounded by. He’s profound, sentimental, caring. He values more than just violence, than war.

“I got the go-ahead from the High Lord that the ball can take place.” Tathaln announces. “We will be amongst a room full of males with potential, who may join our cause. But they won’t if we don’t have some ground to work on. If I don’t have something to show them — warriors who can advocate for us. Like the shadowsinger.”

Kaeda’s gaze lowers. “I’ll keep trying. I’ll ask again.”

“Yes. You will.” He pushes away from the desk. “Because let me remind you of something, lest you’ve forgotten.” A step closer has him towering over her, and he’s…humongous. “I do not give you the freedoms you have, just so you can waste them. I did not leave your wings intact because I abhor the practice of clipping them. I told you to earn them. To hone yourself into a weapon that I can use.”

“I know, father.”

“And what do I do with weapons that are useless? That can’t be used? I rid myself of them. Make no mistake that I would do the same with you if you can’t give me what I need.” A sneer contorts his brutal, beautiful face. “I don’t care what you have to do to attain it. Trick him, force him, bed him. Just get your ass back to Windhaven, and don’t return until the shadowsinger is on side. The ball will be held on Starfall — you have until then.”

“I—”

“Go.”

End of discussion.

He doesn’t want to hear her excuses, her ideas.

He doesn’t want to know that his daughter, deep down, is not capable of the callousness of which he very much is. That in Azriel, she sees a person who is, perhaps, as lonely as she is, and insecure, and trying not to be, in an environment where those things get you killed.

He doesn’t care to know that all she really wants is for her father to throw his arms around her and tell her he loves her, is proud of her, no matter what.

No. He returns to his seat and doesn’t spare her another glance. She’s dismissed.

She takes to the brutal skies and makes her way from one hollow place to another.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Cassian decides two chapters into the book that reading isn’t for him.

He’s just so fucking bored. Rhys is somewhere being all moony eyed over Zakai, Roza and Y/N are still in Velaris, and Azriel still doesn’t seem interested in talking through their issues.

So he’s resorted to this — plucking some weird romance novel off the shelf and giving it a go. Some dramatic tale of a human girl who falls in love with a beast who drinks blood and glistens in the sunlight. Two chapters down, he’s tempted to throw it into the fire — but he remembers that it isn’t his book and returns it to the shelf instead.

He could go to a tavern, but those aren’t fun on his own. Could seek out one of his many sexual conquests for a good time, but something about arguing with his closest of friends translates, for some reason, into his dick refusing to get hard. He’s too churned up for an orgasm, and too churned up to give one out.

So, sleep it is. He heaves a deep sigh and drags himself over to the stairs, feeling mighty sorry for himself. He’s barely placed a foot on the bottom step when a knock falls on the door.

He turns, striding over too fast. He hopes for Rhys, or even Az, anyone—

But Kaeda slumps against the door frame, and he immediately wants to scowl.

Her eyes are glazed, her usually pristine appearance a little unkempt, with strands of cherry red hair slipping free from a ponytail and a stain of some sort of liquid on her shirt.

She hiccups, and the smell of booze rolls from her. “Azriel here?”

“No.” Cassian’s jaw ticks.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Probably at the dorms, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Don’t you have a rock to crawl back under?”

She makes a vague noise and bends at the waist, planting her hands on her knees. “Think ‘m going to be sick.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“Can I just come in? Please? Need…need water.”

Cassian really, really doesn’t want to let her in.

If he had his way, he wouldn’t let her into the camp, let alone his house.

And he’s a shitty enough person that he’s tempted to turn her away…but not shitty enough to actually do so. She’s clearly wasted, and in a place like Windhaven, a lone, drunk female is a target.

So he grits his teeth and steps aside, and Kaeda doesn’t hesitate to stumble in. She heads straight for the couch, slumping down—

“If you puke on that,” Cass tells her, striding over to the kitchen, “I’ll hold you upside down and mop your vomit up with that obscenely red hair.”

Kaeda seems to find it funny. She snorts. Cassian ignores her and fills a glass with water.

He stalks back over. More or less slams the glass down on the coffee table and then sits at the far end of the same couch. “Your water. Drink it.”

The female grabs the glass and gulps it down, droplets rolling down her chin. Cassian has never seen her so…normal.

“Why are you drunk?” He asks.

She returns the empty glass to the table. “I drank alcohol.”

“Give me a straight answer.”

She sighs, and swivels on the seat so that she’s facing him. She’s a little unsteady as she tucks her legs beneath her and says, “Because I’m a desperately unhappy person, and I can’t do anything right.”

Cass stares at her. He isn’t convinced. She seems mighty happy every time she struts through Windhaven, giving pretty, sultry smiles to different males and revelling in their attention.

“I have so much pressure on my shoulders.” Kaeda says. “I can’t afford to get it all wrong.”

“Everyone has pressure on their shoulders. Welcome to the real world, princess.”

Another snort. She shakes her head. Never seems bothered by Cassian’s sharp-edged words. “You don’t get it.”

But Cass reckons he does. He narrows his eyes as he looks at her — thinks that her perfect outfit probably costs more than his entire wardrobe. Thinks that the fact that she’s got to her age, as a female, and hasn’t had her wings and spirit ripped away from her, is a very lucky thing.

“Oh, I get it.” He bites back. “I know exactly what I’m looking at. A spoilt girl who gets everything she wishes for and still wants more. You have riches and a good standing, and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from.”

“…Don’t have any friends, though, do I? Not like you and yours.”

“Perhaps that’s because you’re such an insufferable toad.”

Kaeda stares at him, and he stares back. Gods, he really cannot stand her. Even the way she looks at him makes him want to punch something.

But then she throws her head back, and she bellows a great, loud laugh.

That annoys him, too — that nothing he says, however harsh, seems to bother her. Maybe he simply wishes that he could be like that. So strong.

“Why is it that you hate me so much, Cassian?” Her laughter ebbs into a quiet chuckle, and she’s leaning forward to crack him a smile that has sent better males to their knees. “Tell me.”

Cassian, too, leans forward — tries to scowl that smile out of existence. “Because I think you’re up to something.” He answers. “And I think you’re going to hurt my friends. And if you hurt my friends, princess, I hurt you. It’s that simple.”

He means it. Kaeda can see he means it. And the threat should intimidate her, but it doesn’t.

It makes her hungry. Ravenous.

His hate for her is a challenge that she wants to chase. Every barbed word, every scathing glance —

It sets her on fire.

And she’s happily not thinking about Tathaln, or Fenlaros, or Azriel, as she grips Cassian by the cheeks and slants her mouth over his. She kisses him with such heat that for a moment, he forgets who she is. Her tongue makes its way past his lips—

He shoves her off him, probably too hard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Before she can answer, the front door opens, and Azriel is wandering in.

He takes in the sight of them and stops. Stares between them.

His expression is…indifferent. Like he knows what he’s looking at, but he really could not give a fuck.

And then he clears his throat, and turns to Kaeda. “You should leave.” He says. “Cassian and I need to talk.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @katherinearcheron @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @azriels-mate2

[stsgluver]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 — geto suguru

synopsis. somewhere along the way, geto suguru had gone from being your greatest challenge academically to your greatest challenge emotionally

wc. 12.4k

tags. college/uni!au, supposed to be academic rivals to lovers but that lowkey became a subplot sorry, friends to lovers, fluff, mention of being sick , happy ending, not proofread, shoko tells you to have sex

a/n. hi!! this is my first long long fic so thank you to anyone who reads. sorry if it seems disjointed at any point, half of it was written several months ago and half in the last week <3

geto suguru was the bane of your existence to say the least.

if you could split your life into two, it would be distinctly separated as life before geto and life including geto. admittedly, you didn’t really remember life before geto – having been only a child – but from ten years old, he’d been a constant in your life. having moved from a small school where it was relatively easy to maintain your status as top of the class, you were suddenly put in a position where you weren’t the only kid with an above average level of intelligence.

so from ten years old, to now, at twenty, you have found yourself in constant competition with geto. scores didn’t matter as long as you beat him. shoko had started keeping track several years ago – a little tally chart in her notes app to record who was the highest scorer after tests. currently, geto was a win ahead of you, something which you weren’t proud to admit but you blamed it on the flu that had meant you’d missed a week and a half of lectures.

“so close yet so far.”

you jumped at the sound of a voice so close to you. it was a thursday morning, the library was relatively quiet and you’d been so engrossed in the sound of the keys as you typed that you hadn’t heard geto come up behind you. you were fully aware of him now though, his hot breath on the back of your neck as he loomed over you to no doubt read the answer you had been writing.

“maybe if i didn’t have someone breathing down the back of my neck, i’d be able to focus,” you countered, grabbing your bottle of water to quickly unscrew the cap and take a sip, hoping that the cool liquid could ease the heat in your cheeks. his hands were on the back of your chair as his eyes skimmed through your answer.

despite your rivalry that had been established on almost the first day of meeting, you and geto had always found yourself in similar circles. now, at university, the two of you were a part of a small quartet with your other close friends, gojo and shoko. both you and geto had majored in computer science (much to your delight), while gojo had majored in business and shoko in biomedicine. so not only were you stuck with him in your group, you two shared almost every single class together too.

he grinned down at you with that annoying smirk that you’d become all too familiar with, “you consider me a distraction?” anyone with eyes would say yes – with his long, dark hair twisted into a half up, half down do and a loose fitting shirt that showed off his toned arms. you didn’t have to fully look back at him to know why girls were constantly asking for his number.

“what i consider you is an annoyance.” brushing him off your chair, you opened a fresh tab. you still had catch up work, plus your usual studies from your small period off, hence why you had been at the library since it had first opened. you only had an afternoon lecture on a thursday so you’d sacrificed your usual sleeping in day to study.

the last thing you needed was geto playing teacher and critiquing your work.

the male in question laughed as he took a seat next to you, bringing out his own laptop that you half wanted to take a peek at. in less than a week, both of you had a large project due that accounted for a large percentage of your final grade for the year. you had the majority completed, but after reviewing your code, you’d realised that in your ill-state you’d made more errors than you’d realised (it would’ve arguably been more beneficial if you had just accepted defeat and done nothing for two weeks instead of trying). 

“i come bearing gifts,” a familiar voice called out far louder than he should have – gojo rarely entered a library, let alone bothered to learn basic etiquettes. the snowy-haired male had pushed his dark glasses up onto the top of his head, cup holder in one hand with three drinks from the local cafe and a white plastic bag in the other.

gojo took a seat on the other side of geto, dropping the bag unceremoniously on the circular table, its contents (sugary sweets plus some pastries) spilling everywhere. he was more gentle with the drinks and you could have kissed him for the iced caramel latte he passed across to you. you were only three hours in and you were ready to flake and go home.

“oh good,” geto grabbed one of the paper bags with chocolate-filled croissants (gojo only knew food associated with sugar), “some of us are going to be here a long while.” there was no subtlety as he nodded his head towards you, something you were willing to throw your half drunk water bottle at him for.

but as per usual, gojo missed the obvious social context cues and stared eyes wide at the two of you. “why? do we have a test?” 

the four of you had decided to take a language class together (specifically german) so even when you got busy during exams you knew that there would be at least twice a week when the four of you would be sitting at the back of a lecture hall together.

“since when did you study for tests?” geto scoffed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms out above his head.

gojo giggled at the notion he was there to study. he’d only come to the library because shoko had plans throughout the day and his only other friends in the whole world were you two. “i just need to know what lesson i’m going to skip.” 

his attendance was horrific. he took two weeks off in solidarity with you so you ‘didn’t feel bad for getting the flu’. if he still felt remotely hung over on sunday evening, after attending one of his regular saturday night parties, he would make the decision then that monday was not the day for him to be attending lectures. if he woke up with a ‘bad feeling’, he took that as a sign that he would 100% die in a freak accident if he attended a lecture and skipped. you would kill to have his trust fund to cushion you if you failed university.

“no satoru we don’t have a test,” you laughed at his relieved look and little ‘phew’ as he dramatically swiped his hand across his forehead. to show his gratitude he offered you one of his excessively sweet croissants which you happily accepted. you knew you needed to get a real lunch soon but you just needed to do a couple more hours of real work before you could slack off.

unlucky for you, those couple of hours turned into the rest of the time the library was officially opened for.

you and gojo had taken an hour long break for lunch, before taking back sushi for geto (on gojo, of course). then both you and geto were in a video call whilst gojo played on his phone, attending your lecture online since neither of you were bothered to make your way back to campus just to come back out to the library.

geto had shown you snippets of his project and you were 70% sure that you were slightly ahead of him. but you weren’t about to hedge your bets and slack off – not when you still need at least two points to put yourself on top again on shoko’s chart. gojo had left a while ago once shoko had messaged him that she was back at your shared apartment. 

“are you walking?” geto asked you as he slipped his laptop into his backpack. gojo had been kind enough to take all of the remaining sweets with him so you only had your textbooks to clear off of the table and the empty wrappers he’d left behind. 

you nodded, grimacing slightly at the window. it was dark outside; it wasn’t winter but you hadn’t completely transitioned to spring evenings when the sun wouldn’t set till beyond seven. “my place is only a ten minute walk.” only a ten minute walk in the drizzling rain for which you did not bring a coat. as large as it was on you, you didn’t think gojo’s hoodie would suffice in keeping you warm (he’d forgotten it at yours after a movie night).

“i’ll give you a lift. can’t have you getting sick again.” he teased, chuckling at his own joke as you shot him a faux glare, lightly nudging his arm as you two descended down the stairs of the library. there was no one else in the library at this point, and your footsteps seemed to echo against the cool tiles of the floor.

“fine,” you sarcastically dragged, although you were grateful for the alternative to walking. 

somewhere along the way, the line between rivals and friends had been blurred. for you, the line had only become messier on your eighteenth birthday when the four of you had dressed up in suits and gone to your local laser tag place. as aforementioned, you’d always been aware that geto was attractive but it wasn’t until the close proximity under the neon lights, when you were a duo against shoko and gojo, did you truly see it. a few gentle touches on your waist to pull you back behind a wall, several whispers in your ear where he’d duck down to your height and you were a goner. 

for the most part, you’d been able to keep it to yourself, focusing all of your energy into being statistically smarter than him as opposed to admitting – or even really acknowledging – your feelings. 

“i was right,” you said, slightly out of breath having just run from the entrance of the library to geto’s car (which was parked as far away as it possibly could’ve been because he’d gone to the gym before meeting you). the light drizzle of rain and turned borderline torental in the thirty seconds it had taken you to exit the library. geto gave you a confused look as he pulled his hair out of his half bun, a slight frizz due to the dampness caused by the light rain. “my first answer,” you clarified, “i was right.”

he was smirking again, the same confident know-it-all smirk, “i know. i like instilling a little bit of doubt, better my odds.” 

“you’re an ass.” you huffed, crossing your arms in front of yourself. you’d reread the question three times and rewritten it once, coming to the same conclusion as before, before giving up and checking the mark scheme that had told you you were right all along. 

“i’ll make you pay for fuel,” geto threatened as he turned on the ignition, reversing the car out of the parking space. his hand was on the back of your headrest as he peered out of the back window.

“you can’t make me pay when you were the one to offer me a lift,” you retorted, playing with the strings of gojo’s hoodie and trying to ignore the close proximity between you and the dark haired male next to you. lucky for you, geto’s car was full of distractions for your wandering eyes, memorabilia of the last three years of your lives all around you.

on the dashboard was a dent from when gojo had hit his head after geto had had to emergency break and the former did not have his seatbelt on (there was a little blood and gojo declared that these were his final moments). the jelly belly car freshener that hung from the mirror was the same one that you had bought him as a congratulations for passing his driving test. there was a polaroid of the four of you graduating hidden in the folded mirror above your head, just the corner peeking out. 

each of you had your own designated seats – gojo was usually in the passenger (you could tell by the sweet stash in the door), you sat behind gojo and shoko behind geto. 

the only downside to geto’s car was the fact the heating did not work whatsoever. since getting the car at seventeen, he said every year that he was going to get it fixed but always ended up having to spend money on far more important things for the car. such as the light up gear stick and customised car horn. you shivered lightly as you wrapped your arms further around yourself, but the wet hoodie did little to warm you up.

geto glanced at you from the corner of his eye and nodded his head towards the backseats. “i have a dry jacket in the back if you’d rather that.”

you contemplated it for a moment before ultimately deciding that you would like to spend the next eight minutes warm. slipping off gojo’s hoodie, you turned to reach behind you to grab geto’s black zip up and slip it on, leaving the hoodie behind for your other friend to claim back. he would more than likely be in here the next day anyways.

the rest of the car ride was mostly silent, other than you critiquing his driving on several occasions – which he claimed you were in no position to do since you did not have a licence of your own. you argued you were perfectly within your rights as he’d had to swerve to avoid a stray cat.

“thanks suguru,” you said as you took off your seatbelt and reached for your bag. he’d pulled up just outside of the entrance to your apartment so you’d only be caught in the rain for a fraction of a second. “do you want me to leave your jacket here?”

“anytime princess.” what had started off as a mocking when you were kids had become your designated nickname and you hated how much you now loved it when geto called you that. you could only hope he couldn’t see your flushed skin in the dim lights. “and don’t worry about it. give it back to me another time.”

you thanked him again, waving him off before you scurried inside and up the stairs to the fourth floor where your apartment with shoko was. the two of you had been in separate student accommodation in your first year, but after six months and several awful roommates had both chosen to find a small apartment to share together. both of you had part time jobs to afford it and while it added to the masses of work you already had with school, it was worth it.

it was only small – two bedrooms, a bathroom and an open kitchen and living room – but it was your little home. as of a weekend, it wasn’t uncommon for geto and gojo to be there too. of a friday evening, the four of you would be huddled in your living room with a random board game (usually cluedo) and an excessive amount of vodka.

“where have you been?” shoko asked slyly, laying across the sofa with a pen in one hand and her ipad in the other. there was a picture of a human heart on her screen, her scribbles annotating it messily. 

“library. suguru gave me a lift home,” you called out to her as you dropped your bag into your room, passing shoko as you headed for the fridge to find something to eat. pushing your hair up into a loose bun, you grabbed a fork for the pot of mango you’d picked up. “when did satoru leave?”

“he was only here for twenty minutes. this place is too small for him,” shoko dropped her stuff down onto the sofa, following you to your little kitchen area. she jumped up onto the counter, happily accepting the fruit you offered to her. “so, geto gave you a lift home then?” she eyed your change in hoodie from the one you’d left in that morning.

“don’t start,” you complained, grabbing another fork so she didn’t have to eat with her hands. it had been shoko’s current fixation to over analyse the relationship between you and geto. you’d made it very clear twelve months ago when she’d first come to you to ask what was going on that there was nothing there. nothing tangible anyways.

“no, i just think it’s so sweet and so gentlemanly of him,” shoko tucked her hair behind her ear as she spoke with a mouthful of mango, batting her eyelashes innocently, “don’t you?” 

your refusal to point blank answer the question is enough of an answer for her. “i think it’s late,” you backed away from shoko and dropped your used fork in the sink. you’d sort it out in the morning. “and i have an eight am class tomorrow.” 

“with geto,” shoko called out before you could fully close your door and you could hear her smile in her voice. you rested your forehead on the cool wood of the door and tried not to think too much about how right she was. it was embarrassing – you were a grown adult, not a teenager anymore. it should be easy to pull yourself together and get over your silly crush that arguably stemmed from the rivalry between the two of you.

he challenged you in a way you had never been before you craved the competition. that was what you wanted from him – a challenge, not his toned body or honey-smooth voice.

when she’d confronted you the first time about your feelings from geto, you’d been honest (the woman was a walking lie detector, there was no way you could have lied). told her that yes you had a small crush but that was all it was – a harmless little crush. when you’d continued on as normal and didn’t make any sort of moves or obvious hints that you still liked him like that, she’d dropped it. 

you’d hoped that that was the end of it.

however, her interest had been revived after the two of you had stayed up a few weeks prior after coming home from a party. shoko had had far more than is recommended for the average person alcohol-wise whereas you had mainly sobered up by now. the two of you were curled up under a blanket watching whatever romcom shoko had found whilst you had made two bowls of cereal.

“if you had to sleep with anyone we know right now or you’d die, who would it be?” shoko had asked with a mouthful that you cringed at. neither of you had bothered to change into appropriate attire or cleaned your faces so it was almost comical to see her in her short dress and smudged make-up eating cereal. 

you nudged her arm gently, careful not to cause any spillages, and with a snort asked, “why would i die if i didn’t have sex?”

“shh,” she was messy and unbalanced as she leaned across to press a finger to your lips, “answer the question.”

you hummed, tapping your spoon against your chin as you mulled over her question. you knew the answer – you were sure she did too – but you didn’t want to come across as desperate. “i don’t know…” there was still a buzz in your system, especially as you thought back on your night out and the crowd of other uni students you’d been with. “definitely not naoya.” you pretended to gag after you said his name and shoko laughed.

he had made the first hour of your outing less than fun as he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. geto was away visiting family, gojo was somewhere on the dancefloor, and shoko was getting drinks from someone so you were left alone and the zenin thought that this would be the day you would accept his love confessions. as if two years of hard ‘no’s’ would suddenly become a ‘yes’.

the mere suggestion made you actually want to be physically sick.  

“he is the worst kisser,” shoko complained, staring up at the ceiling like she was reliving a moment you didn’t even know had happened. you stared at her, mouth agape, because in all your years she had never once told you when this had happened.

“why have you kissed him?” not only was zenin naoya renowned for his lack of respect towards women, the girl sat inches from you was a proud, outspoken lesbian who made it very clear she had zero attraction to men whatsoever.

“gojo donkey dared me to.”

“ieiri.” you deadpanned at your best friend as she snickered at your judgement, waving her hand dismissively towards you. 

“you would do it too for a free drink,” she tried to justify and you shook your head. 

“have some standards.”

you could practically imagine how it played out, gojo in fits of laughter and naoya in shock as shoko pulled him into a kiss (he’d mask it up though and use it as evidence that even lesbians wanted him). if you were lucky, gojo recorded the incident but the likelihood that he would have had the forethought is a fifty-fifty if he was drinking. even when he does remember to record silly things like that on a night out, majority of the time the camera is pointing at him instead of the incident.

“you’d kiss geto for a free drink wouldn’t you?”

you almost choked on your own spit at the forwardness of her question.

“i’m just saying, this whole rivalry thing? fuck it out,” she raised her hands in defence at the appalled look on your face. “the tension is unbearable.”

“you’re unbearable,” you flipped her off.

“you’re late.”

you weren’t a violent person but you think that just one little slap to geto’s perfectly tanned face would have made you a slightly happier person. it wasn’t fair that him and gojo looked happy and wide awake at sixteen minutes past eight in the morning whilst you and shoko looked like you had just run a marathon.

which, in your opinion, you basically had.

and now you were at your stupid language class that you didn’t really even need to be taking with no morning coffee to wake you up.

you huffed as you slid into the seat next to geto, grateful that you always chose to sit near the back so it wasn’t too obvious you’d just come in late. nodding your head towards shoko, “someone locked themselves in the bathroom.”

not only had you not woken up to your first alarm so you were already behind in your usual routine, just as you were about to leave your apartment, you heard shoko calling out from the bathroom saying the door was broken. ensue a fifteen minute battle with you both trying to jiggle the door lock open.

“i said it was a sign we shouldn’t show up at all,” shoko shrugged, grabbing out her pouch of tobacco so she could roll herself her first cigarette of the day. neither of you were overly morning people – especially not without your daily drink and cigarette (respectively of course, shoko found coffee to be too bitter and you weren’t a big fan of smoking).

“shhh.” a girl a few rows in front of you turned her head, giving you all a displeased look.

“shh.” shoko repeated back mockingly, not so subtly raising both her middle fingers up at the back of the girl's head. you bit down on your bottom lip not to laugh loudly at her childishness. the brunette on your right then turned her head down towards gojo and geto, holding out her hands, “one of you pass me your notes.” gojo looked over at you both with a grin, turning his laptop screen to face you. on it? a game of online chess. which he was losing.

“genuinely asking, how have you not failed uni yet?” shoko shook her head in disbelief before turning her attention to geto, “cough up, princess.” she mimicked the nickname geto occasionally used for you and you had to fight every urge not to nudge her in the ribs.

“i don’t know how you plan on topping me if you’re not showing up to class on time,” geto tsked disappointingly towards you as he sent the notes from his laptop to your group chat so you’d both have them. shoko slumped back into her seat, ipad in her crossed lap as she downloaded the pdf.

you ignored his jab with an eye roll, pulling your laptop out of your bag to see what you’d missed. it wasn’t much and it was a beginner’s class too so if you were going to be late to a class because shoko got locked in a bathroom, this was the one to be late for. you were glad, though, that geto always typed his notes because his handwriting was terrible. otherwise you would have to accept you lost the first fifteen minutes of the lesson.

halfway through the class, both shoko and gojo left to go have a smoke and get food (again seperately, gojo had tried to smoke once and had spent the next five minutes on the floor coughing and vowed never to do it again). the white haired male had kindly offered to grab you hashbrowns from the small on campus cafe and you’d accepted the offer after your stomach had decided that it was not happy you’d skipped coffee and breakfast.

that left you and geto alone together. well, not really alone since you were in a half filled lecture hall but the point still stood.

“it looks good on you.” geto’s breath was hot against your ear as leaned down and spoke in a low voice as to not disturb the people around you – it was either that or he too was aware of the crush you’d been harbouring for him and enjoyed seeing your flushed expression. for the sake of your sanity, you assumed the former.

you swallowed at the close proximity between the two of you; he was so close you could practically feel the loose strands of his hair brush against you. he hadn’t bothered to tie it up but you know he’d meticulously straightened it this morning. if you turned your head, there would be less than an inch between you and–

is he complimenting you in his clothes?

you’d worn his and gojo’s hoodies an endless number of times before in the past, this wasn’t anything new. you blame your flusteredness on shoko and her constant teasing at the minute. for the last couple years you’d managed to keep yourself in check.

clearing your throat, your straightened up in the uncomfy red seat. “i was in a rush this morning. you can have it back now if you really want it.” you hoped not – once again it was poor weather and you were relying on this to keep you sheltered from the rain since, for reasons that you were not at fault for, you’d left in a hurry this morning.

out of the corner of your eye you could see geto shake his head as he settled back into his seat. you let out a small breath of relief as you finally got your own bubble of personal space back. “don’t worry about it princess.” 

geto wasn’t oblivious to girls being interested in him – he would brush it off with a laugh and a cocky remark – but you hoped and prayed he was oblivious to the fool you were making of yourself. 

after class, the four of you had headed to your favourite cafe – only a five minute walk from campus but it was tucked out of the way in a little alleyway so that it wasn’t as busy as some of the others. you didn’t need to give shoko your order with how often you came here, you all always got your regulars.

“me and tweedle dee here,” shoko linked her arm around gojo’s as she spoke, ignoring the way she forced gojo to slightly bend down awkwardly due to their height difference, “are going to grab food, you two go grab seats.” 

“c’mon,” geto’s hand was on the small of your back as he guided you between chairs and tables and you could feel the heat emanating from his palm through his jacket. for such a small space, there were far too many tables and only half occupied, leaving the rest as a labyrinth to work through.

“where are you going?” you asked with a small frown when he gently nudged you in the direction of the dimly light corner when there was a table for four right in the window still available. despite the initial shower this morning, the sun had begun to shine through.

“i’m going to the seats in the corner. y’know since there is a sofa,” geto added in a ‘duh’ tone like the sofa was the best thing in the world. it wasn’t even like they were that comfy – too low down and squishy in your opinion. 

“it’s sunny,” you pointed to the light pouring in but he gave you an uninterested look, shaking his head.

“rock, paper, scissors.”

you blinked twice up at him and then down to his hands – one held out in a palm and the other in a fist over the top. the silver of his rings contrasted with the warm colour of his skin and you had to force yourself to look back up at him and not stare shamelessly.  

“we’re adults, i’m not playing that with you.” you deadpanned. this was a gojo response – clearly living together meant that his antics were rubbing off on geto.

geto laughed quietly, blessing you with a teasing smile and raised eyebrow as he nudged you with his open palm and fist. kissing your teeth with your tongue, you muttered an insult about maturity under your breath as you mimicked his stance.

“corner seats it is princess,” geto grinned, hooking an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the sofa after you picked paper and he picked scissors. “do you think that counted as another point to me?” the tease in his voice was evident and the smirk on his lips only riled you up more. not even his arm around you could distract you from your sore loser behaviour.

“no,” you said quickly and with a tone that had him laughing to himself. you weren’t about to lose another point over a child’s game that was just pure luck. there was a lot more integrity behind the tally chart titled ‘who needs to go outside and touch grass more?’ (named by shoko, of course).

the two of you sat next to each other, facing towards the counter so you could see as shoko pointed to various things on the menu and pastries on display. you were all too aware of how close you were when geto knocked his knee against yours as he slipped off his hoodie.

“i can pick you up if you’re going to the library tomorrow,” geto offered as he crossed one leg over the other. his and gojo’s apartment was in the other direction of the campus to yours, but you two did share a morning class – assuming he was driving in and not making the five minute walk then it wasn’t out of his way for you.

“are you going straight after class?” you turned your head to look at up, seeing him already looking down at you. in only his t-shirt, there was a sliver of black ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve.

several months after his eighteenth birthday, you, him, gojo and shoko had gone out for the evening and returned with matching tattoos of koi betta fish. his was fully inked in on his upper arm whereas gojo’s was just the outline on the back of his shoulder. your’s was a mixture of the two and on your lower hip whereas shoko’s was on her wrist. initially it had been both blue and black ink but the blue had begun to fade. 

“i need to go to the gym and then i’ll join you.”

the gym where he would most definitely be removing that shirt and not only show off the tattoo on his arm but the larger one on his back too. this one was much larger – a dragon that swirled around the shape of his spine. he always said that in another life, he would be training to become a tattoo artist and not studying computer science. 

“why aren’t we sat in the sun?” you turned away from geto to look over at shoko, the female in question holding a tray as she raised a brow at the two of you, displeased by your choice of seating. she, much like you, hated the sofas and would have much rather been in the window seats.

geto shrugged, pointing at you accusingly, like he wasn’t the one who wanted to sit here. “yn lost rock, paper, scissors.”

“yn,” gojo whined as he dropped into the sofa seat opposite geto, “one job.” he complained, shaking his head in a disappointing manner, like he cared so much where you sat and was not aching to eat his donut with a sickening amount of icing. you grimaced at his tastes.

“who’s going to meimei’s party saturday?” shoko asked once she’d divided up everyone’s orders. a caramel latte and muffin for you, croissant and black coffee for geto and a blueberry muffin and black coffee for herself.

meimei was a couple years older than all of you but since week one of university, her house had been the go to one at least once every couple of weeks. gojo and geto always got an invite – meimei would personally message them – whereas you and shoko showed up as their unofficial plus ones. it didn’t bother either of you, you were there to drink, not to hang out with the slightly odd and promiscuous woman. 

“yeah,” geto nodded, scrunching his nose up at the bitterness of his drink. you heavily judged both him and shoko for forcing themselves to drink a drink they barely liked. “if satoru goes.”

“i am 100% going,” gojo spoke with a mouthful, dark glasses pushed up onto the top of his head, “i need to redeem myself.”

“what after the dance floor incident?” you giggled, earning a kick under the table from the white haired male. after several drinks too many at someone’s house party, gojo had managed to create a circle in the centre of the living-room-turned-dance-floor. it was entertaining to watch him pull people in and out to dance with him… until the drinks caught up to him and he vomited everywhere. this was not at meimei’s luckily, or you don’t think he’d ever be allowed back

“shush! people won’t forget if you keep reminding them,” gojo whined, earning a sarcastic pat on the shoulder from shoko. 

“are you coming?” geto asked you as though the answer wasn’t obvious. when did one of the four of you ever do anything without the others?

nonetheless, you glanced over at gojo who was looking expectantly at you, “am i really getting a choice?”

“nope!” gojo grinned.

“you’ll pick us all up?” shoko smiled uncharacteristically sweetly towards geto who rolled his eyes and nodded. he was the only one with the car but both he and shoko had licences. though he seemed hard done by in his response, he wasn’t the biggest drinker and even less so compared to shoko. he was the unspoken designated driver.

“black is your colour,” shoko complimented as she reached past you for the straighteners. you thanked her through gritted teeth as you held a bobby pin between your lips, attempting to fix your hair with another one in your hands.

the two of you were in the same shared bathroom that shoko had gotten herself locked in several days prior. your sink was covered in the various skincare and make up products you used. the two plug sockets were occupied with your straighteners and hair dryer. it was a chaotic mess that would be tomorrow’s fun activity in your hungover state.

friday had gone by quickly, geto had even showed up at your apartment to take you to your first class before you went to the library together. you’d discussed both of your projects but for the most part you’d worked in a comfortable silence. in your lunch break, you’d gone to your local chinese takeaway and eaten in his car. for a brief moment, you’d indulged yourself in what your life could be as his girlfriend, spending each of your days like this with him. 

sighing, you slipped a bobby pin into the back of your hair. in a couple years time once you’d graduated and started your careers (albeit in the same or at the very least similar industries), your feelings for geto would dissipate into nothing more than the whisper of a memory. it was the competition, you reminded yourself. that was what created the ‘tension’ (as shoko put it) that had led you to believe you had these feelings.

you could laugh at yourself for how ridiculous and pathetic your thoughts sounded.

tonight however, that was not of concern. tonight, the only focus was on getting wasted.

you had dressed up in a tight fitting black dress that stopped midthigh specially for the occasion while shoko had opted for wide leg pants and a butterfly crop top. 

specifically the butterfly crop top that a mutual fashion student friend of yours had made for her.

you raised an eyebrow at her once you felt your hair was securely up, dragging your eyes up and down the top she was wearing, “are you coming back tonight or…?” 

“or am i getting laid by a certain very hot girl with blue hair? i’m getting laid,” shoko blew you a kiss with a grin. “you should try it some time,” she wriggled her eyebrows at you and it didn’t take a genius to know who she was hinting at.

in regards to her activities post-meimei’s, she had been getting closer to utahime over the last few months. you both knew her from high school but she’d avoided your group like the plague because of her strong disliking for gojo. you loved gojo, you really did, but to some he could come across as a bit much to those who didn’t know him well enough. 

at university, however, where there was a bit more space between the four of you (not by much), utahime and shoko had managed to get more alone time. despite her confident and cocky nature, shoko’s soft affection for the blue haired girl was obvious and you had fully encouraged her to ask her on the first date several months back.

“you know that means i’m going to be stuck with dumb and dumber all evening,” you complained light-heartedly as you stepped out of the bathroom to try and find the shoes you’d be wearing. geto would be happy to hear that though – it meant he only had to find you and gojo when it came to coming home.

the four of you had only ever stayed over at meimei’s once. her house was massive and you all took over one of her guest bedrooms which in itself made for a fun sleepover. however, there’d been a group of guys – zenin naoya included – who’d been trying to coax you and shoko with them to a different room. moving on from then, geto had made it a point to almost always drive.

“oh no, is that such a hardship for you?”

you held up your finger to the brunette who was peering around the doorframe of the bathroom to smirk at you. 

“you need to drop this.”

“nope,” shoko slipped past you, reaching into a pile of clothes to grab your silver strappy heels you were searching for. your living room was in just as much of a state as the bathroom with trial outfits and various accessories laid out on the sofa and floors. “i need some sort of fun here.” you scoffed at her reasoning, her fun at your expense, but still thanked her for finding your shoes.

the only clear space was on the small coffee table in front of the sofas where half a bottle of passionfruit vodka sat with two empty shot glasses. as you perched yourself on the edge of the sofa arm to start tying up your heels, shoko took it upon herself to pour the two of you another shot for the night. 

you grimaced as shoko handed you a full shot glass, but interlocked your arm with hers nonetheless. “three, two, one,” she counted down before you both poured the drinks into your mouths. the distinctive after taste ensued and you coughed at the overwhelmingness. 

“that’s nasty,” you stuck your tongue out and shoko snickered at you, having been completely unphased. 

a low rumbling could be heard outside through the open window of your apartment. you glanced at the clock – they were five minutes late. not that it bothered you since you were still struggling untangling the straps of your other shoe. 

“geto’s here,” shoko said, closing the window and pulling the curtains closed. you hummed in acknowledgement, muttering an ‘almost done’ when the vibrating sound of her phone went off. a picture of gojo wearing bright green goggles flashed up on the screen as shoko answered it. “yeah? yn’s just taking forever to put her shoes on.” you gave her a look. “yeah, i’ll tell her. geto told you to hurry up.”

“i am hurrying,” you shot back, tying the last bow. standing up, you pulled the skirt of your dress down so you didn’t flash anyone and did a little spin. “how do i look?”

“hot. we’re coming down now.”

“–and don’t accept drugs from strangers, i’m not dealing with another satoru situation,” geto said as he listed off the do’s and don’t’s for the evening. do’s including make sure you are always with someone you know and don’t’s including speaking to zenin naoya. not that the latter would be a difficult task. 

gojo was dressed in a white fishnet top and he’d opted to forgo his glasses for the evening. instead, he’d decorated his eyes with blue eyeshadow and gems – his usual going out look since he’d watched euphoria. in the drivers seat, geto looked far more casual in an oversized grey top and baggy jeans but it wouldn’t be far fetched to say that he stood out the most out of the four of you. his sun kissed skin and sharp eyes were alluring to anyone who saw him. the most effort he’d put into his appearance was pulling his half back into his half bun, pulling some baby hairs out at the front to frame his features.

you’d caught yourself watching him from your seat one too many times with shoko even nudging your knee once.

“me?” gojo gasped from his passenger seat, looking back at you and shoko like geto had made some outlandish statement.

“don’t you remember that time you took drugs from that girl because you thought she’d let you hit after,” shoko reminded with an unlit cigarette between her lips (no smoking in the car – another don’t on geto’s list). 

gojo cleared his throat, holding up his hands in defence, “look guys, i will be the first to admit it wasn’t my finest moment.”

that was an understatement. you’d been the one to find him after another party goer had recognised you as one of his friends and told you he was having a bad reaction. you almost felt bad when you found him upstairs in a bath, with a shower running all over him.

“you guys weren’t the ones who had to stay up till 4am while he cried in the bathroom,” geto shuddered at the memory and you were just grateful he’d taken over gojo’s care as soon as you’d called him.

“nope but i did have 15 voicemails from him the next day.”

again, gojo’s head snapped back, singling out only you this time, dread on his features. “you’ve never shown me these.” despite probably going out the most out of the four of you, his tolerance for alcohol was pitiful and his tolerance for any sort of substance was ten times worse. if it seemed like he had no filter beforehand, an under the influence gojo had to be supervised so he didn’t say something to the wrong person and ended up in a&e.

“i’m saving them for a special occasion,” you patted the top of his fluffy (and now also glittery) hair. it would probably end up in your annual slideshows you all did for new years eve. an ongoing tradition where each of you picked out your highlights of the year and made powerpoints with them.

once at meimei’s and out of the car, shoko gave you a quick side hug and told you to stay safe. “i am going to love you and leave you all,” she dramatically waved you away with one hand, the other holding a lighter up to the cigarette in her mouth. presumably, utahime was already somewhere around the back of the house waiting for shoko as opposed to inside where there were several dozen bodies already packed. “have a wonderful evening i will see you tomorrow for the debrief.”

the debrief in question being the mandatory coffee session post party to send each other pictures and make fun of how hungover gojo inevitably is.

“yn, come with me!” gojo slipped his hand into yours and dragged you through the sea of bodies out into the makeshift bar that had been set up in the corner of the living room. meimei’s house was massive, this room alone was probably larger than your entire apartment. geto had followed after you but he’d turned towards the crowd, opting to socialise over drinking whatever concoction gojo was about to make.

turning your attention back to the white haired male beside you, you cringe at the amount of liquid in the red cups. it was oddly graceful how gojo opened cupboards and grabbed bottles with no hesitation, haphazardly pouring them into each cup.

“how do you know where everything is?” you asked, leaning over to take a sniff from the drinks. surprisingly, it wasn’t awful, but you put that down to the lemon flavoured mixer he’d just added.

gojo lightly pushed your head back, shooing you away as he held up a bottle of malibu. after taking a neat sip (which you wanted to point out was not very hygienic but with what he was about to out into his body you doubted he cared), he poured in the final addition to your drinks. “look i’m number one meimei hater but i’d lying if i said i wasn’t a regular at this establishment.”

you scrunched up your nose at regularly attending a place like this. it was fun to a certain extent you could admit, but there was only so much of the pounding music and sweaty bodies that you could handle. “you need a life. beyond women,” you added once you caught his eye watching a short-haired ginger girl weaving through the crowd.

“oh honey i do. i dabble in both,” he winked at the pink haired boy following behind the girl and you quickly nudged him in the stomach with your elbow. you wanted at least ten minutes before he got distracted and tried to sleep with the first person that walks past him. gojo pouted, whining quietly, before making a miraculous recovery in order to hold out your drink to you. “try this.”

there was no countdown this time before you both began drinking. the alcohol burned your throat and the odd mixture of flavours had you calling it quits once the red cup was only halfway empty. you coughed twice as you dropped the drink back onto the table, wiping the excess liquid off of your lips. gojo committed to the entire drink, squeezing the plastic once he’d finished.

“delicious,” he grinned, already looking in the cupboards again to start up another mess. this was how he’d get borderline paralytic so quickly on nights out.

looking off at the crowd of huddled bodies ahead of you, it wasn’t difficult to spot geto who stood a head taller than everyone else. meimei had set up multi-coloured strobe lights that danced red and blue across his skin. he looked so effortlessly gorgeous. 

you couldn’t help but feel disheartened as he ducked his head down to speak to the girl in front of him. you didn’t know her but you recognised her from one of your lectures – one that you also shared with geto and there was no doubt in your mind she’d noticed him before. who wouldn’t have?

reaching for your red cup again, you decided that you could wallow in self pity all you want but you were not doing that sober.

“he looks at you like that too.”

“huh?”

your gaze shifted from geto and the unnamed girl to gojo. the male in question had one hand on a bottle of vodka and one hand on his hip as he looked at you accusingly. your face felt hot at the insinuation that you’d been looking at your mutual best friend in a certain way and you tried to take the vodka bottle from his hand.

gojo held it up above your head, easily out of reach from you as he too stood taller than everyone else. “look all i’m saying is that he was not very happy that you were asking nanami kento for advice on your project and not him.”

you frowned at the fact, willing yourself not to overthink what that could mean. nothing, is what it meant. 

you hadn’t even realised geto had still been in class when you’d spoken to nanami as he’d said he was going to the gym. the blond was smart and with you making a mess of your code when you were sick, you’d wanted a fresh set of eyes on it now that you’d somewhat cleaned it.

“why would i ask him? so he can sabotage me?” you countered. this was your chance to even the scoreboard in shoko’s notes.

“you are so smart, yn, so so smart,” gojo patted your head affectionately, arm slipping around your shoulders as he tugged you close to his body. he smelt like shoko, having stolen one of her perfumes the last time he was over. “and yet you’re dumb as fuck.”

“give me that.” you ignored the insult, which was pretty ironic coming from him of all people, and snatched the bottle from him, unscrewing the cap to fill up your cup.

“you can’t avoid it forever,” gojo sung but you were done listening to his unsolicited opinions, opting instead to console yourself with alcohol.

“have i ever told you how pretty your eyes are suguru?”

“you have. several times. all in the last five minutes actually,” geto sighed and you snickered at the two next to you. 

unsurprisingly, gojo was using geto as a crutch (more like he was being dragged along by the latter but it was all the same) having drunk more than his body could handle. you were faring slightly better but only after you’d given up on your heels. the grass was uncomfortably damp beneath your feet but it was better than falling headfirst into the mud. 

“goodie!” the white haired male giggled, almost tripping onto the ground as he struggled to keep up. you were glad you lived in separate apartments –  you did not want to be there when gojo started coming down from the bubble he was in and spent the next several hours with his head in the toilet.

“you take the front seat,” geto nodded his head towards the passenger side, “i’m going to lay him in the back.”

you obliged with a quick nod, skipping to the seat next to his. there was still the buzz of alcohol in your system and you know had it not been for geto calling it a night, you’d still be in the thrum of people dancing. you were shocked that there had been no noise complaints given the crowds of probably hundreds of students and the loud music still blasting despite having gone well past midnight.

you giggled to yourself as you recorded geto struggle to fit gojo into the backseat. he was like a large child; awkward and stiff and too tall for the small space. by the time geto’d finally managed to get the seatbelt around him, he was practically passed out and leaning across the backseats. you sent the video across to shoko.

“have you heard from ieiri?” geto asked as he slipped into the driver’s seat, pushing the key into the ignition but not turning it. your heart swelled at the concern he held for all of you – ever the gentleman. he’d been the one to help you untie your heels and held them in one hand as he held gojo up with the other, and now he was worried about the final piece of your group who’d already been clear she wasn’t coming home with you. it was basic really, a bare minimum one could even argue, but you were drunk and your feelings were already all over the place.

“yep,” you nodded, scrolling to your most recent message that she’d sent to you about twenty minutes ago saying that she was leaving meimei’s. leaning across the console so that there is only a few inches between your face and geto’s, you hold a finger to your lips and whisper, “she’s with her girlfriend but you’re not supposed to know that.”

it wasn’t not not a secret that utahime and shoko were seeing each other but shoko had been trying to refrain from using ‘girlfriend’ because it was still early days and she didn’t want to scare her off. utahime had never been in a publicly lesbian relationship before.

“mhmm. i won’t tell.” you were close enough to smell the mint on his breath (he probably went out for a smoke at one point) and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down at his lips. they were a soft pink and slightly damp from where his tongue had swiped across. in the corner of his lips was a small hole where he used to have a ring. you wondered what the cool metal would have felt like if you kissed him.

the sound of gojo muttering in his sleep brought you back to your senses, somewhat, and you quickly seated yourself back into the passenger seat. you could only hope that the drunken execution was as smooth as you thought it was in your head as you prayed geto didn’t notice your blatant glances.

you could see geto looking over at you out of the corner of your eye and you wanted to shrink away into the seat. you should’ve let gojo pour you another one of those awful drinks. he opened his mouth to say something but when you remained focused on pulling down the skirt of your dress, he chose to just start the car.

a ping from your phone had you frowning at an unknown number sending you ‘hi’. the follow up ‘it’s todo’ and ‘are you still here?’ had you groaning in annoyance at yourself.

“are you okay?” geto glanced at you, worry flashing across his features. you weren’t sure if it was for you or if he was concerned that you were about to be sick in his precious car.

“i gave todo my number,” you sighed. you could vaguely remember doing it after he’d joined you, gojo and several others for jello shots. after seeing geto with the same girl from your tuesday morning lectures, you hadn’t hesitated when todo had asked for your number. a futile attempt at getting back at the male sat to your right. you were already embarrassed by your actions now, you didn’t want to know how you’d feel tomorrow when you were sober.

if you turned your head, you would have seen the way geto’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, the skin of his knuckles turning white. but you didn’t and his voice was unsuspiciously calm as he spoke. “did you want his number?”

“no, maybe, i don’t know,” you rambled out in quick succession, hands moving in front of yourself as you spoke. you had wanted his number but you didn’t want it because it was his number. maybe this was an opportunity for you to stop with your silly crush. maybe you did want his number. taking half a moment, you continued, “well, i mean he’s not not attractive? but–” i want you. 

“but?” geto repeated when you stopped yourself mid-sentence. resting your head against the headrest, you turned to look at him. you found yourself tracing the outline of his side profile with your eyes – from the stray hairs that had clung to his forehead from sweat due to the heat at meimei’s, his brows that were furrowed as his dark eyes stared on ahead at the quiet roads, the soft shape of his nose down to his lips that you desperately wanted to ki– “you’re staring.”

you glanced at the intersection where you’d stopped because of the red light shining down at you, then back to geto who’s full attention was on you now. his own eyes were wandering across you now but his action seemed one of concern than your blatant admiration.

“do you…” you began, all inhibition foregone as you found yourself leaning across the console again towards him. geto’s hands dropped down from steering wheel to lightly hold your shoulders to ensure you didn’t sleep. it didn’t stop you from moving closer – he wasn’t trying to.

“do i…?”

geto wasn’t stopping you but he wasn’t encouraging you either. you stilled entirely when your faces had only a couple of centimetres away from each other. “would you stop me if i kissed you?” your voice was no louder than a whisper to the point you weren’t even sure if he had heard you.

there was a moment, a moment that you swear was real and not a figment of your drunken imagination, where you think geto was fully contemplating your question, just about to close the gap. the harsh sound of a horn ruined the trance you both seemed to be under and geto was back to focusing solely on the road.

you hurriedly settled back into your seat, running your hands across your face and pushing the stray hairs away from your face. your heart was racing, whether it was from the alcohol, the jumpscare from the horn or the realisation of what you almost just did, you weren’t sure.

“jeez, what did satoru give you?” he muttered aloud, though more to himself than you or the sleeping male in the backseat. his little snores may have been endearing if you didn’t also blame him for everything that just took place. ‘he looks at you like that too’ – he owed you at least a week's worth of coffee and doughnuts for putting the thoughts in your head.

“that was ages ago, i’m clear minded.” you were not clear minded at all. you wished shoko was here. you wish you weren’t.

“sure you are,” geto scoffed quietly under his breath. if he was annoyed at you, you needed to start plotting how you’d avoid him for the next few years.

“satoru said something,” you said when the silence became so unbearable you thought your mind would simply implode. the roads were familiar but you knew you still had a while before you got to your apartment. assuming geto didn’t banish you to the side of the street for trying to kiss him.

geto was frowning again and you wanted nothing more for the lines to disappear from his forehead. he was too pretty to get wrinkles. “what did he say?”

“what did you say?” you spun around in your seat to see the white haired male unceremoniously spread across the backseats, mouth hanging open. absolutely no help, as per. “fuck, he’s still asleep.” you closed your eyes as you thought back to your conversation with gojo when you’d first gotten to meimei’s. “he said you didn’t like i went to kento for help.”

“that means i want to kiss you?” geto seemed almost… amused? his usual confident demeanour seemed to be returning as he shot you a glance, the tension from his shoulders dissipating.  

“no, ieiri said that. kinda.” you chose to leave out the specific explicit detail of what shoko actually implied. the hole was deep enough, you didn’t need to dig any further.

“why aren’t you saying anything?” you asked after several beats.

“because you’re drunk.”

“oh.” what did that even mean?

you picked at the black nail varnish on your nails, willing the minutes to go by faster. maybe if you’re lucky you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and geto will pity you enough to never remind you.

“i would let you kiss me,” geto spoke so quietly you were scared you’d misheard him. you even looked back at gojo for confirmation that he had in fact just said those words. he was, however, still asleep and still useless. with one hand staying on the steering wheel, geto used the other to gently stop you from ruining your nail varnish any further. “would you let me kiss you?”

you were finding it hard not to smile like a little kid. you didn’t care what this meant – geto suguru said that he would let you kiss him. a win is a win. “depends if you’re good or not. i have standards, y’know.”

“of course,” he patted your thigh twice before returning his hands to the steering wheel. if you thought your heart was racing before, it was now running loops at a thousand miles per hour. 

several minutes later, geto pulled the car to a final stop. “this is your place,” he said but you weren’t really focused on that, you were entirely focused on him. the car wasn’t moving anymore and he could look and speak (and maybe even kiss you) without any car horns or other external distractions. 

except you weren’t entirely right in that assumption as your shameless staring was interrupted by a particular loud snore from the backseat.

you forgot gojo was still there.

letting out a quiet sigh, you picked up your shoes from behind geto’s seat and pointed several stories up to your apartment. looking up at geto as pathetically as you could muster, since not even embarrassment would convince you to walk on the pebbled path, you asked, “help me?” 

not another word was spoken between the two of you until you had entered your apartment. geto had lifted you from the car bridal style and you’d cherished the few seconds so close to him. he set you down once you were in the building of your apartment but stayed by your side as you walked up the stairs.

“drink this,” geto handed you a glass of tap water he had poured and you thank him quietly as you sip it. he avoided eye contact with you as he passed by you in the direction of your bedroom. when he came back out several moments later he gestured for you to enter the room. “i laid out some clothes for you and put out some paracetamol, you’re going to have an awful headache when you wake up. so whilst you’re being pathetic here, i’m going to be up bright and early finishing that project. then it’ll be me two up.”

you laughed quietly at the notion, walking past him. “thank you suguru.” tiredness was beginning to seep deep into your bones and you craved the softness of your mattress more than you did his attention right now. 

geto was still stood in the doorway, watching you from afar. clearing his throat, he pointed to the keys in his hand – keys for his car, your apartment, his apartment and the sweet safe he kept hidden from gojo. “i’ll lock the door with my spare key. night princess.”

you were an idiot who was never drinking again – that was your only thought when you woke up.

after taking the paracetamol that geto had left for you and finishing the glass of water off, you waited another ten minutes for the painkillers to kick in and subside your headache and then you just lay there. last night definitely wasn’t your worst but it was far from your best. between unopened messages from todo and a large question mark over your friendship with geto, you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

‘i would let you kiss me.’

geto suguru would let you kiss him. was that a confession in itself? you groaned, you wished the world was black and white and that was exactly what was meant and you knew that and didn’t have a voice in the back of your head conjuring up twenty other possible meanings.

you’d skipped your usual debrief with the others, sending shoko a message that you were headed straight to the library. she knew your project was important but she also knew that you’d had closer deadlines and still attended both the saturday night party and following debrief. still, she didn’t push you to come and just told you that you’d talk in the evening when you were both home before offering to grab you something sweet from the shops.

you weren’t lying about going to the library – you just left out the whole geto moment. 

after showering and eating some food, you didn’t get to the library till gone noon. nanami was already down there and you apologised for being late. why you arranged to work with him the day after going out, you weren’t entirely sure, but past you clearly expected you to make a miraculous recovery.

several bottles of water and paracetamol kept you functioning enough that you were able to make good progress on your work with nanami proof checking every now and then. gojo’s voice was in the back of your head – you could be spending your time with geto doing this instead of nanami.

that was no hate to nanami, you thought he was super sweet and helpful, but he wasn’t geto. 

you weren’t sure what had been discussed at the debrief but you had received several more cryptic messages from shoko that had made you put your phone on do not disturb. you were already reliving last night’s car ride home over and over in your head, you didn’t need to know everyone else was too.

with the evening creeping closer and the snacks that nanami had brought dwindled, the blond stood up from his seat beside you and nodded downstairs. “i’m heading down to the vending machine, do you want me to grab you something?”

you shook your head, leaning back in your seat and rubbing your eyes. “i’ll just have whatever you get.”

you wanted desperately to go home and back to your bed to sleep for the next twelve hours (had to be up in time for your 8am close, though) but you were dreading talking to shoko about geto. the conversation would go one of two ways; either she already knew and would inevitably tease you or would have to explain it to her, get her live reaction and then be teased. neither seemed fun. 

the sound of footsteps had you turning your head in the direction of possible food. the library was too quiet for your stomach to rumble.

your smile dropped when you saw who was standing next to you.

“hey suguru,” you swallowed, sitting up straight in your chair and pushing your hair back behind your ears. being nonchalant didn’t matter now and no amount of pretending you didn’t try to kiss him last night would actually make it not happen. 

“hey,” he waved before stuffing both his hands in his pockets. he must have just come from the gym – his hair was still wet and he was in his usual post-gym hoodie and shorts. it was odd, to see geto not sure of what to say or odd, appearing almost out of place. a pang of guilt washes over you – you created this situation.

scratching the back of your neck, you pointed at nanami’s seat next to you on your right, “you looking for help from nanami too?”

you were joking, obviously, geto wouldn’t need his help, and you hoped your weak attempt at humour would at least ease some of the tension. he cracked a smile as he raised a brow at you, “why? you think i need it?”

“all i’m saying is don’t come crying to me when i come out on top,” you raised your hands in defence, smiling with him. geto rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. he pulled out the seat to your left, dropping down next to you. 

that silence settled between the two of you again. geto was hard to read as he looked down at you, his dark eyes searching for something in yours. you swallowed again as you felt your throat dry up.

“are you avoiding me?”

your eyes widened at the forwardness although you tried to play off your shock (extremely unsuccessfully). “why would i possibly do that?” 

geto shrugged, that familiar smirk appearing on his lips, “i told you that i’d let you kiss me and you don’t even want to at least ask me what that means?”

“do i want to know what it means?” you countered quietly. you were glad the library was pretty much empty and you just hoped that nanami stayed downstairs as long as possible. it felt odd to be so publicly vulnerable.

“god," geto looked thoroughly amused as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling and then looked back at you. "you’re dense sometimes.”

you frowned, turning back to your laptop screen with your project. you weren’t here to be mocked. “if you’re here to make fun of me, i’m sorry, let’s just forget this all ever happ–”

geto spun you around, hands on both arms of your chair and suddenly you were back in his car with his hands on your shoulders and your lips brushing against his, “come with me.”

“right now? to where?” nanami was about to return any second, you couldn’t just up and leave him.

“i’ll take you to the sushi place you love,” geto offered, leaning over to close the screen of your laptop. like taking away your access to your project would lead you to the conclusion that going with him was the only possible outcome (as if though there was any outcome in any scenario where you didn’t pick him).

you hesitated at the idea. if he was asking you to go out after saying that you could kiss him it was definitely not a stretch to assume that your feelings were reciprocated.  “like… a date?”

“well princess that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do is it not?” he posed the question in such a casual and natural manner that you had to bite down on your lower lip to try and control your grin. 

“yeah,” you nodded, interlacing one of your hands with his, “yeah, it is.”

you made a mental note to bring an extra coffee for nanami next lecture as an apology for disappearing.

bonus, several weeks later.

you had come out on top when it came to your project, being only several marks ahead of geto. he hadn’t been all that bothered, saying that he’d let you have the win since you’d had to resort to nanami for help (and he was head over heels for you and would probably flunk every future project and exam if it meant you’d be happy).

you found out that in the debrief that you missed, gojo and shoko practically demanded that geto ask you on a date because they couldn’t allow the two of you to keep going round in circles with each other any longer. needless to say your second debrief with shoko once you came home after your sushi date was a long one that covered both of your current love interests.

for the last few weeks, it had been about adjusting to the new dynamics that a relationship had brought to your group. it was little things like geto picking you up every morning before class and gojo having to decide who to third wheel when it came to parties.

one thing that had not changed was the existence of the list between you and geto.

the german test you had taken the day prior was the first test you’d both completed since your project. this was the deciding test as to who would be on top again.

“wake up, wake up,” you nudged geto’s arm repeatedly, the male in question groaning as he tried to hit you away with a pillow. if someone told you a month ago you’d be waking up in his shirt, in his bed, with him, you would have laughed. 

when your insistent poking didn’t work, you climbed ungracefully across him, your knees resting on either side of his slim waist. that caught his attention and he opened one eye to peer up at what you were doing,

“look,” you practically shoved your phone in his face, the screen too bright for his eyes to adjust to.

“okay?” geto squinted, trying to read the black text unsuccessfully.

you sighed when he didn’t get it fast enough, “it’s our test scores. i have seven more percent than you therefore i am winning.”

“hold on,” he grabbed your wrist as you tried to move your phone away from his face and pointed at the email your lecturer had sent out. “you’re still only second place in the class.”

“yeah wait,” you slipped your wrist from his grip, rereading the email twice as your face dropped in disbelief. 

“what?”

poor geto was wincing again as you spun the screen back to him again, “what the fuck?”

with an almost perfect score, for a class he spent more time playing dress to impress in, was the gojo satoru.

[skzdarlings]

saturday mornings | the threesome series ; skz ; chan/reader/seungmin

masterlist.

threesome series part 1/4. -

pairing: bang chan/reader/kim seungmin content info: sexual content. threesome. established relationship. bdsm. dom!chan, sub!reader, sadistic sub!seungmin lol. these three have an established dynamic that they are very familiar with, involves lots of teasing with reader as the "good" submissive and seungmin as the "brat" who coerces her into being "bad" with him. tone indicates this is all clearly playful. physically rougher elements, daddy/sir titles, baby girl pet name, punishment play, implact play, filming sexual acts, oral sex, face-slapping (not reader), bondage, shower sex, orgasm denial.

they all luv each other n they like to have fun lol ;)

-

You wake to a kiss on your forehead and blink your sleepy eyes open to a smiling Chan.  He is perched on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his baseball cap and work-out clothes.  The pale light around the curtain tells you it is still very early morning.   

You stretch under the covers, groaning as you take him in.

“Why are you dressed?”  Your voice is rough with sleep.  “Come back to bed.” 

You try to string your arms around his neck but he laughs and lowers them to the bed. 

“Just meeting Changbin at the gym,” he says.  “Then I gotta run to work for a sec—”

You slap your hands on the covers and pout. 

“Work?” you ask miserably.  “But it’s Saturday.  You promised—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby,” he says.  He holds your face in both his hands and swoops down to plant another kiss on your forehead.  He follows it up with a kiss on each cheek, then he nuzzles your nose with a goofy little giggle.  He is diabolical, knowing you are helpless to resist him being so silly.  You smile back.       

“Promise I’ll be fast,” he says.  He strokes his thumb over your cheek.  His dimples are deep with his smile, but his lifted eyebrow colours his gaze with suggestion.  “You’ll be good for me today, yeah?” he asks.  “Follow all my rules?”

He is still smiling, still speaking in a soft, pleasant voice, but you feel the shift in energy.  It wakes the rest of you with a flush of warmth.  You wet your lips and nod, looking at him with your most innocent, baby-girl eyes. 

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you say, leaning your cheek into his hand.  His thumb slips over your bottom lip and gives it a little touch.  “I’m always good.”

“I know, baby,” he says.  He smiles when you kiss the pad of his thumb, winks when he flicks your bottom lip cutely.  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” 

You follow the direction of his gaze.  Seungmin is fast asleep on your other side, one leg out of the covers, laying on his front and clutching a pillow.  Seungmin tends to bat away cuddle advances when awake but he sleeps like a clingy koala bear.  You are the opposite, snuggling up when conscious and kicking the boys away in your sleep.  Seungmin usually curls around Chan when sleeping and he looks very bereft in slumber without him.  You can’t help but smile even though you know Chan’s words are right: Seungmin is a troublemaker. 

“I’ll make sure he’s good,” you say to Chan, a promise you both know will be hard to keep. 

“Hope so,” Chan says.  He leans down for a chaste kiss, lingering close to your mouth when he says, “See you later, baby girl.  Be good for me, yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna say bye to Seungmin?” you ask when he stands up.

Chan adjusts the brim of his cap and just grins. 

“Uh, yeah, I already tried that,” he says.  “He’s a brat.  Give him a kiss for me later.  Love you both.”

“Love you too,” you say.  Your voice goes rough as you snuggle into the bedcovers, falling back to sleep.  The last thing you see is Chan’s affectionate smile.   

You wake a while later to warmth along your backside and a weight on your hips.  You stir, groggy, taking a second to register everything. 

The curtains are open and the golden glow of morning is shining in the bedroom.  The bedcovers have been pushed down but you don’t feel cold.  Seungmin is awake behind you, his arm draped over your middle.  True to troublemaking form, he already has a hand between your thighs, just resting over your shorts.  When he feels you waking, he cups you a little more deliberately. 

“Seungmin,” you mumble sleepily, “Daddy’s not here.  You shouldn’t be doing that.” 

“That’s so sad for Chan,” Seungmin says with a lot of cheeky sass, grinning a big boxy grin.  He never addresses Chan properly, not even to his face, not without a lot of effort on Chan’s part. 

Seungmin’s disrespect always makes you tingle because you could neverbehave that way.   You love being good.  You also love that Seungmin does not.   

“He should have thought about that before he went to work on a Saturday,” Seungmin says. 

“He said sorry,” you reply. 

You can practically hear Seungmin’s eye-roll. 

“Then it’s okay, I guess,” Seungmin says sarcastically. 

He is already touching you through your shorts, his knuckle gently rubbing back-and-forth and making all those nerves come alive with need.  

Seungmin is a veritable pussy addict.  Despite being equally submissive to Chan, Seungmin has trained you according to his own insatiable desires.  It only takes one look from Seungmin to go from resting to fully turned on.  He can spend hours curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out, rubbing your clit.  Hours more laying between your thighs with his mouth wet and soft, kissing and licking and tongue-fucking you until you are a wrung-out mess. 

He is more than half the reason you always wet by the time Chan finally puts his hands on you.   Then it’s you who gets teased for being wet all the time, Seungmin just grinning behind you with that smartass grin.   

He wastes no time this morning, warming you up through your shorts then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband.

“Seungmin,” you whine.  “We’re not supposed to…” 

“Stop crying,” he says, shoving his other arm under your body to hook it around you.  He pulls you tight against him while he works his hand into your shorts.  “I won’t make you come, crybaby,” he says. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say.

You pout but admittedly make little effort to stop him.  You should, knowing very well Chan’s number one rule is no coming without his permission, but you are lethargic with sleepy contentedness and his fingers feel so good.  You figure as long as you don’t come, indulging just a little touch won’t do any harm…

You should have known better.  It doesn’t take much for Seungmin to work you up completely.  You buck your hips as if to escape his hand but your shorts keep him trapped.  You squirm in his arms at the same time your legs thoughtlessly spread. 

“Seungmin,” you say, panting against your pillow. 

“Yes?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he’s doing.  He holds you tighter when you start to wriggle.  “Relax,” he says.  “Just don’t come.  Be a good girl,” he says it like a punchline, dry and humorous. 

“You know his rules—”

“Who?”

“Daddy—”

“Who?”

“Chan!”  Saying his name puts you over the edge.  Chan’s dominance is softer by nature but Seungmin likes to provoke him so you have seen his mean side often.  Imagining his reaction to your bad behaviour has you coming hard on Seungmin’s fingers.   

Seungmin, like the demon he is, strokes you through your orgasm and a little past it, laughing in your ear when you whimper from oversensitivity.  You have never known someone to be so sadistic and submissive at once.  Seungmin likes to make you cry even more than Chan does.  It gets Chan all huffy and mean, then he really puts Seungmin in his place.

Satisfied with his evil deed, Seungmin lets you go and flops onto his back.   You roll over to glare at him, trying to ignore the lingering thump in your pussy.  It feels like a heartbeat skipping beats, erratic when Seungmin smiles and puts his wet fingers in his mouth to suck.  He makes a dramatic mmmmm sound, then sticks out his tongue at you. 

“You’re mean,” you say. 

“I’m telling Chan you came,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. 

Your heart is really skipping beats now.  You climb on top of him and try to get there first.  He beats you to it and holds you back, cackling his mischievous little ha-ha as he opens it up.   His phone background is a picture of the three of you on holiday, crammed together and giggling in a hammock, and the cuteness is at serious odds with his wickedness. 

“Seungmin, don’t!” you say, trying to swipe at his phone.  “That’s not fair, I didn’t even wanna!”

“Liar,” he says.  He closes his phone and looks at you with a smirk.  “I won’t tell him but you have to do what I want.” 

“What do you want?” you ask, regarding him with scrutiny.   Last time he said that, he came inside you without Chan’s permission and earned you both two weeks of edging and denial as punishment.  Seungmin insisted it was your fault, that he was going to pull out when you wrapped around him, so Chan punished you both ‘to be fair.’   Seungmin always gets away with roping you into his punishments because you don’t argue with Chan, so you eye him warily now. 

He swipes his bangs out of his face and looks down his own body.  You follow his gaze, stopping on the obvious bulge in his boxers.  You look at him and he pokes his tongue into his cheek.   

“Fine,” you say, playfully petulant.  “Just this once.  You better keep my secret.”

He mimes zipping his lips shut. 

You crawl down to fit between his thighs as he spreads them, making room.  He grabs his glasses off the bedside table and pops them on, then he opens his phone again. 

“Let’s make a video for Chan,” he says.

“Seungmin,” you say, glaring at the camera then up at him.  “He won’t like us fooling around.” 

“He will,” Seungmin says, smiling down at his phone.  “You look pretty, crybaby.  Now go.” 

You glare at him one more time then move down, tugging his boxers off his hips.  He is already hard, twitching in your hand before your lips graze the head.  You look up at the camera as you lick and suck, closing your eyes when diving down the length of him.  He puts his free hand in your hair and guides you, tells you to slow down, makes you drool on it before he snaps his hips up.   You take it with practiced skill, but you can’t help the way your eyes water, living up to Seungmin’s mean nickname for you. 

“Hold still,” he says, lifting your head. 

You think he must be close, that he is stopping you before he comes, but you look up and see he is still filming.  He smiles, his free hand jumping from your hair to his dick.  It only take a few swift strokes before he’s coming all over the side of your face.  He swipes his fingers in it and shoves them in your mouth before you can get mad at him, not for the mess but simply because he came when he knows it’s against the rules. 

You say his name, though it comes out garbled around his fingers.  He rubs his fingers over your tongue as if fucking your mouth, then he gives another ha-ha before he finally stops filming.  His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop and he swings away.  He tugs up his boxers as he gets out of bed. 

“Seungmin!” you say, wiping your face on the hem of your shirt.  You leap out of bed to grab his phone only for him to sprint into the next room.  “Seungmin!” you say again, running after him.  “You can’t send that!  You’re gonna get us in trouble!” 

“Why would I get in trouble?” he asks, typing away at his phone from behind the kitchen counter.  “You were the one with my dick in your mouth.”

You chase him around the kitchen island until you are both giggling.  He spins around and catches you unexpectedly, playfully roaring in your face with a weak little raaawr.  He pretends to bite your neck while you giggle and push at him. 

“You won’t be so funny when he gets home,” you say, to which he just repeats what you said in a mocking tone.   You smack the top of his head as he directs you to the living room couch.  “You’re such a bully.  You promised not to tell.”

“And I didn’t,” he says, kissing your neck lightly then sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  “If you don’t tell him what you did, he won’t know.”  He looks at you, that mischievous grin back on his face.  “Unless you feel guilty and tell him.”   

You pout, making him laugh. 

“I’m so nice all the time,” you say with a melodramatic flourish, waving your hand.  “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.”

“I’m nice,” Seungmin says.  “See, your shirt’s dirty, let me help.” 

You playfully wrestle when he tries to lift your shirt off.  You let him win, squeaking then jumping onto the couch where he chases you.  He climbs on top of you and starts kissing you, messy wet licks into your mouth then down your neck and chest.  You clench your thighs around him but he wriggles his shoulders between your legs, smiling at you.  You barely pretend to fight when he tugs your shorts down, then his glasses go crooked and his mouth is on your pussy through your underwear. 

You whine his name and rake your fingers through his hair.   He tugs the fabric out of his way and licks up your still wet pussy, being as messy as possible. 

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, surfacing for a second.   His glasses are still askew and his face is wet.  He smiles dreamily at your pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down.  “What if Chan got home right now,” he slips his fingers inside you, “and saw you like this?”  He sighs as if disappointed, casually fixing his glasses with one hand and fucking you with the other one.  “He’d be so mad.” 

“He’s at work,” you say, eyes closed. 

“Is he?” Seungmin asks.  “I think he’s outside the door.”

Your breath catches and you look at the door.  Seungmin has no way of knowing if that’s true but you gasp anyway, legs closing around his hand.  He pushes them apart, then gets up on his knees for better leverage. 

“Seungmin,” you say, grabbing his arm but not stopping him.  His fingers are curling inside you, rubbing against a tender spot that has your vision swimming.  “Ohh, Seungmin, please—”

“Ohh, Seungmin, please,” he mimics.  “You’re not coming, are you, crybaby?”

You shake your head, making a show of sniffling and looking at him with purposefully teary eyes.  He rolls his thumb back and forth over your clit.

“The doorknob is turning,” Seungmin says.  “He’s gonna see you.” 

“No, I’m not—”

“He’s walking inside—”

You come with a cry, tossing your head back and squeezing his fingers between your legs.   Chan is not actually home and Seungmin is just a menace, but that menace does cover you in kisses when you are done coming all over his hand. 

You lay on the couch for a bit, feeling each other up and kissing, then Seungmin leans back to grin at you.

“Two for you, one for me,” he says.  “I’m doing better than you.”

You swat at him.

You eventually start the day for real, going about your usual weekend routine.  Chan never answers Seungmin’s video text, but Seungmin shows you that he definitely saw it.  The little READ subscript reveals he watched it only seconds after getting it. 

You are reading a book in the afternoon when Seungmin gets back from a walk.  He kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch.  You try to ignore how distractingly handsome he looks with his hair pushed back, casual but sexy in denim.  You can tell he wants to mess around so you pointedly ignore him and turn the page of your book. 

He tugs on the sleeve of your shirt then rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What,” you say in a dry voice. 

“It’s getting late,” Seungmin says.  “Chan still hasn’t answered us.”   

“Hm.”  You turn another page despite not retaining anything.  “So?”

“So.”  He touches your chin and turns your face to his.  “We should make another video.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” you say, closing your book.  “You’re just gonna do something you’re not supposed to again.”

“What, me?” he says.  He flicks some hair out of his eyes and laughs.  “I don’t think so.” 

“I do.  You’re evil and you’re not dragging me down with you.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.  And nothing you say can change my mind.”

A few minutes later, you are curled over the arm of the couch, clutching a cushion while Seungmin fucks you from behind and films it.  He’s down to just his open jeans, the denim rough against your skin when he pulls you onto him again and again. 

“Mmmf,” is the noise you make, groaning into the cushion.  “You better not come again.”

“Worry,” he says, panting, “about,” he slows down a little, “yourself.”  He takes another breath and speeds up again. 

“I’m at no risk of—” Your overconfident proclamation is interrupted when Seungmin expertly circles your throat and yanks you up.  You whine and claw at him but he roughly manoeuvres you onto your back. 

“Hi baby,” he says with a sarcastic little wave, phone camera pointed down at your scowling face.  He frowns with exaggeration.  “You gonna cry again?”

“No.”  You try to kick him, pushing at his chest with your foot.  He just scoops that leg onto his shoulder and presses himself back inside you.  “This was Seungmin’s idea, daddy,” you say, covering your face with your hands.  “I was being good, I promise.” 

Seungmin just mimics your voice and grinds into you.  One hand holds the phone and the other slips down.  His thumb rubs softly and simply over your clit until you are whimpering again.    

“That’s not fair,” you say with a little hiccup.   

“Should be easy for you,” Seungmin says.  “Chan’s good little girl, right?” 

“Ugh, shut uuup, you’re the worst—”

“The rest of you would disagree, good girl,” he says.  He tips his head, looking at the phone, so you can only assume he is zooming in on your pussy gushing around his cock as he rocks in and out.  “Uh oh,” he says when you squeeze him inside you.  He knows your body well by now, having wrung countless orgasms out of you, so he is grinning before you even start coming.  “Three, two, one…!  Ha-ha.”      

You make a shaky, shuddery sound as you come, barely recovered before his hand is around your throat and he is fucking you in chase of his own completion.   There’s no point in even pretending to protest.  You just sigh and reach down, holding your thighs open as he moans and groans for show, coming inside you.   He takes his time filming it after, sweeping his fingers around to show Chan the mess he made.   He must turn the camera to selfie mode because he starts smiling his mean, puppyish grin into the screen. 

“See you later, old man,” Seungmin says.  “If you can even get it up after working all day.” 

He stops filming and laughs you when you frown at him. 

“Do you have to make it even worse?” you ask. 

“Yes.  Don’t ask stupid questions.”  He swoops down and kisses your forehead.  “Come on, crybaby, let’s have a shower.  Unless you want to be full of cum when he gets home—”

“Hmmph!”  You give him a indignant pout, but you get up when he helps you. 

You share the shower.  You keep pretending to be mad at him, only giggling a little when he touches a few ticklish spots.  He knows they are ticklish so he is just being mean, but he does compensate with little kisses over your back and shoulders.  

He stands behind you, kissing down your neck as you tip your head, the hot water rushing down your front.  Your eyes are closed against the spray but also from pleasure, smiling to yourself as he nips at your skin then licks over the bite. 

“No marks,” you say without much verve.  “You know that’s another rule.”

“That’s okay,” he says, smirking into your shoulder.  His hand starts to slide down the front of your body.  “You’ve already broken the rules, so…”

“Seungmin,” you say, your scolding tone contradictory to the way you rock your ass against his growing hard-on.   You giggle, holding onto his wrist but not stopping his descent.  “We shouldn’t,” you say. 

“He’s right,” comes a voice from the doorway. “You already broke the rules anyway, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fly open.  You look through the glass wall of the shower to see Chan leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed.  He is still dressed for the office, suit and tie, though he is already barefoot.  His dark hair is neatly styled, his eyes darkly lined, a diamond stud on his nose and his ears.   He lifts his eyebrows and tips his head, the expression more than a little condescending. 

“Whoops,” Seungmin says with a laugh. 

Chan exhales, unsmiling. 

You turn the water off and slide the glass door open.   The shower is a big, roomy space with two showerheads, leaving Seungmin plenty of room to step back.  He rolls his eyes and somehow manages to look belligerent despite his nudity.  You are a far more repentant sight with your watery eyes and pouty lips, naked and damp and innocent as can be. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry, sir, daddy, sir,” you say, shaking your head.  “I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t listen.  You believe me, right?” 

Chan doesn’t say anything.  He just looks at you with the vaguest hint of amusement in his eyes.  Then he looks away with a sigh, unbuttoning his blazer.   He shakes his head as he peels it off and approaches the shower. 

“I don’t know what to believe, baby girl,” he says.  The blazer hits the floor and he loosens his tie next.  “Ya know I had to leave work early because of this?” he says.  He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows then his gentle hand reaches out to cup your chin.

You shiver from the coolness of the room, from his touch, from his gaze.  You do not dare look away from his eyes, not even to see Seungmin’s face.  You do not doubt he is just frowning and rolling his eyes anyway. 

Chan presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth dutifully.  He rests it on your tongue.   

“I don’t have a lot of rules, yeah?”  Chan says.  “Don’t you think I’m fair?”  

“Mhm,” you say, nodding, lips pursed around his thumb. 

“Did you not understand the rules?” he asks.  “You’re not stupid, baby. I’d find that hard to believe.”

You don’t answer, knowing you are guilty and there is little to say in your defence.  Chan just sighs and slips his thumb out of your mouth.  He cups your cheek and lovingly strokes it. 

“You know I’m disappointed, don’t you, baby?” he says.  “How many times did you break the rules today?”

“I’m sorry!” you say in a rush.  “Seungmin really did start it, though.  I was just in bed and he made me—”

“How many times?”    

“Five,” you say, sniffling.  “Three for me, two for Seungmin.  It really was his fault, though, you know I would never—”

“I know what he’s like, baby,” Chan says. He is speaking in an easy, calm voice as he draws his fingers down your chin, your neck, the middle of your chest until he has a breast cupped in his hand.  You try to keep a neutral expression when he rubs his thumb over its peak.  “But you know you’re responsible for yourself, yeah?”

He lets go and reaches past you to turn on the water.  It is a light, warm spray that makes you jump with surprise.  He surprises you again by stepping into the shower almost completely dressed.  He backs you into the wall as the water runs over his white dress shirt, turning it translucent. 

Seungmin finally scoffs, the sound mixed with a laugh. 

“You’re getting your clothes wet, weirdo,” he says. 

Chan’s gentle expression hardens.  You jump when his hand shoots out, grabbing Seungmin roughly by the throat.  Seungmin grabs onto his wrist, clearly surprised given the way his breath catches.  He tries to hide it with a grin, lifting his eyebrows when Chan looks at him.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, Seungmin,” he says.  He chokes a little gasp out of him then lets go, looking at you again.  “Come here, baby,” he says softly.  “You know what I have to do.” 

You know he means a punishment, but you don’t know which one.  Chan is tantalizingly unpredictable in that regard. 

You nod, stepping where he gestures, under the showerhead but just behind the spray so none of the water hits you.  You shiver again, your nipples hard and skin breaking into goosebumps.  You meet Seungmin’s eye over Chan’s shoulder, Seungmin looking at you with gleeful anticipation even while rubbing his throat.  From where he is standing, he must also feel the chill, the same prickling awareness of his skin, the air like a constant kiss all over your body.      

The water hits Chan on the shoulder, running down his chest and side.  His shirt is sticking to him, drawing your eye to the ridges of muscle down his abdomen.  He taps your chin to lift your gaze, keeping your eyes locked while he undoes his tie and whips it off. 

“Open,” he says.  

You part your lips and he puts the tie in your mouth, wrapping the rest around your head.  He reaches behind you and secures it with a knot.   He taps your side, confirming the usual mute communication for when your mouth is covered.  You nod and he smiles, tapping your cheek approvingly. 

He reaches for his belt next, looking you over with heady eyes.  You shiver at the clink of metal and whistle of leather.

“Hands,” he says. 

You offer them and wait as he ties his belt in neat loops around your wrists.  Your heart leaps when he yanks your bound hands up above your head and hooks the belt over the neck of the showerhead.  He slides it backwards, making you follow until your back is flat to the cold wall.  You make a startled, pained noise into the gag, flush with the sudden cold.  The temperature shock is a stark contrast to the heat spreading between your thighs.  You can do little relieve the ache, balanced on the front of your feet.   

“That’s a good girl,” Chan says with one last parting look, dimples sweetly smiling at your predicament.  Then he sighs, slicking back his now damp hair.  Maybe his make-up is just turning smoky with the heat, but you swear his eyes literally darken when he turns to face a grinning Seungmin.  “Now.  You.” 

You might prefer Chan’s gentle daddy dominance more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like watching his mean sir routine when it comes to Seungmin.  Because Seungmin does not like it gentle.   You live vicariously through the thrills of their rougher play. 

It never disappoints.  You mewl like a surprised kitten when Chan backhands Seungmin, catching him before he can stumble.  Even his catch is rough, a hand over his mouth and his other arm hooked around his neck.  He presses Seungmin into the glass wall, his cheek flat to the cool surface.  You feel a shiver of empathy. 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Chan asks.

There is a moment of quiet as Seungmin clearly contemplates surrendering or continuing.   Then he nods.  Chan’s laugh is breathy, his gaze turned upward in exasperation. 

He releases his mouth and swings his hand down on Seungmin’s backside.  You never imagined being so jealous of a spanking, but you are starting to feel like you got the worse punishment after all.  You are forced to merely watch as Seungmin squirms in Chan’s firm grip.  You are certain those marks will bruise, darkening alongside some older ones still purpling his skin. 

After a thorough spanking, Chan turns him around.  Seungmin thuds onto his knees when forced down.  Chan places him where the water can reach and Seungmin stretches upright on his knees, trying to escape where pebbles of water hit his smarting skin.  Chan smacks him and it splits Seungmin’s attention, on his cheek and his backside at once. 

You thought Seungmin was mean for lightly finger-fucking your mouth earlier, but that favour gets more than repaid.  Chan shoves two fingers far enough into Seungmin’s mouth that he chokes, attention fracturing yet again as he haphazardly grabs the offending hand by the wrist.  

Chan tugs his fingers free, a trail of spit connecting them to Seungmin’s open mouth. 

Seungmin blinks his dizzy dark eyes upward.  Chan gazes back, cool and unbothered, while unbuttoning his pants.  Seungmin looks ready to speak but Chan just shakes his head.   

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and tugging him close.  “Just don’t.” 

Seungmin is so funny, calling you a crybaby only to get all dribbly from a little face-fucking.  It’s hot, though, and Seungmin is fully hard now.  His hands are on Chan’s clothed thighs, functionally so he can tap out, but doubly affecting in how he can’t touch himself because of it.  You think you can see his mental space shift in real time, going from petulant brat to something else, something content and quiet and physical.  

He gasps and leaves his mouth hanging open when Chan pulls out.  He flinches when Chan taps his cheek.   Chan just smiles. 

“That’s better,” he says.  He reaches out and snaps off the water.  It makes Seungmin shiver and you follow in sympathy.   “Come on,” Chan says, kicking at him lightly.  “Get up.  This way.” 

Seungmin stumbles when Chan grabs his bicep and yanks.   You whimper with jealousy when Chan kisses him, a filthy hot kiss that makes you tingle from head to toe.  Fortunately, you do not have to suffer much longer.  Chan manhandles Seungmin until he is facing you.  The mischief has been replaced with hazy desire, his eyes watery and mouth so pink and raw. 

“On your knees,” Chan says, pushing at Seungmin’s shoulder. 

Seungmin takes in a shaky breath but nods, getting back down on his knees in front of you.  Chan grabs his hair and yanks his head back, looking down at him. 

“You forgetting something?” Chan asks. 

“Sorry, sir,” Seungmin says.  “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Chan lets him go.   He helps guide your leg over Seungmin’s shoulder, cooing sweet nothings at you when you make a startled sound because he lifts the other leg too.  It raises you completely off the ground, both legs over Seungmin’s shoulders, weight partially supported by Chan and partially by the shower.   You are completely suspended, simply sitting pretty while Seungmin eats you out. 

Of course, Chan doesn’t let you finish.  He tells Seungmin to stop and start a few more times before he finally lets you down.   Your feet touch the ground again, though you rest your weight on the wall, your legs shaking. 

Chan sweeps Seungmin’s hair out of his face and tips his head back. 

“You have something to say now?”  Chan asks. 

“No, sir,” Seungmin replies, his voice rough. 

“You gonna listen to me?”  Chan asks, to which Seungmin nods.  “Good.  Then get up and do what I say.  You ready?” 

Seungmin’s job is a step ahead of yours.  Chan is still helping you out of the shower by the time Seungmin reaches the bedroom.  You sit perched on the counter, towelling yourself dry while Chan strips out of his wet clothes.  You are about to step down when Chan scoops you up.  You suppose you have lost the privilege to run ahead at will, just in case you get any funny ideas, but you don’t mind if Chan is holding you.  You cling onto him, legs and arms wrapped around him as he carries you into the bedroom where Seungmin is waiting. 

Chan lays you out beside him and waves a hand, giving Seungmin permission to kiss you.   Seungmin eagerly sprawls on top of you, kissing and licking and moaning while Chan gets up behind him. 

Your punishments appear to be contrary, you unfucked and untouched thanks to your several stolen orgasms, and Seungmin the overwhelmed subject thanks to his provocations.   It’s him Chan fucks now, you laying under him, kissing his face as he grunts and groans and whines.  Your shared kisses are breathy, gasping things. 

You twitch and buck with wanting, feeling emptier than you ever have, while Seungmin digs his fingers into the bedspread, rocking against you while Chan rocks into him.   

Seungmin comes first for once, helped along by your hands desperately seeking more, more, more.  He comes all over you, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.  Chan pulls out and finishes with a few strokes of his own hand, coming on that bruised and purple backside. 

Fucking you both is one thing, but Chan’s work is truly cut out for him in the aftermath.  But your loving boyfriend never falters, doing everythign to ensure you are both settled and soothed.  Some days you return the favour, lovingly doting on your careful dominant, but today is a day he massages and kisses and takes care of you both.  

You take care of Seungmin too, kissing his face.  He is sandwiched between you and Chan, letting you both love up on him until his character comes back to him, then he starts thrashing around with playful dramatics.   Chan giggles in that silly way of his and wraps him up, covering his shoulders with kisses while Seungmin glares at you like a disgruntled puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease, giving him a little kiss.  “This was all your fault anyway.  I’m a good girl.”

Seungmin grins at that.  Chan just shakes his head, but smiles deeply.  He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close.  Seungmin, trapped in the middle, whines and groans, but he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.    

[emmyrosee]

Rintaro is exhausted.

He’s been sprinting around non-stop these past few hours- yes, hours, he’s a man of weakness- trying to hold the fort while you’re at the doctors-that-hes-not-invited-to.

Kaiya, his little princess who now seems like the spawn of damned Satan, is on the path to weening off nap time, and it shows. Akito, the handsome and kind asshole, only seems to be interested in essay he’s doing in his room to avoid watching Kaiya.

It’s been four hours. Rintaro wants to leave these kids at a bus stop and ditch them. He doesn’t know how you do this every day.

“I’m home!” You call with a gentle close of the front door, and Rintaro cries in relief. Kaiya quickly dashes to you, followed by Rintaro himself scrambling behind her. You smile, and it’s like he can hear the choir of angels with it. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” You ask Kaiya, and it’s prompted with a yawn.

Rintaro deflates, “she’s skipping sleep, remember? No more put downs, that’s why she’s being absolutely feral right now.”

You hum in agreement and look over at your little girl, who’s head is burrowed in the curve of your neck. “That’s true, but the pediatrician also said to not force her to stay awake so early, yeah?”

Rintaro whines in the back of his throat. You chuckle and head towards Kaiya’s bedroom, only stopping briefly to kiss your husband’s cheek. “You did great, my love. I’ll put her down and I’ll come right back out to take care of you.” He smiles softly and watches as you go. He stays put, like an obedient dog waiting for your command, hell he practically feels his invisible tail wagging at your return.

“Good boy,” you tease, grabbing his hand and bringing him to the couch. You sit down and smile easily, “okay. Tell me all about it.”

“They’re animals,” he groans, flopping on the couch next to you. “Literally. How do you deal with them everyday?”

You snort, “you get used to initiating the authority. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, but-“ In the background, there’s a curse word that slips from Kaiya’s lips, followed by a crash in her bedroom, and Rintaro almost cries.

“God, we’re done, right?” He pants, flopping next to you on the couch. You laugh and shift over to gently card his hair through your nails.

“Done with what, baby?”

“We’re done,” he repeats. “No more kids. No more siblings. We’ve capped at two, that’s enough, they’re cute until their not, and we’re fine being aunts and uncles from now on.”

You smile down at Rintaro, continuing to card his soft locks. You don’t say anything though, only laughing again when one green eye peeks open.

“This is the point where you say ‘yes my beloved husband, we’re done, you’re getting a vasectomy tomorrow and laid every other night.’”

You continue to smile. He sits up, playfully afraid, before his eyes widen in realization.

“No.”

You raise your hands in defense, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know that look, it’s the same damn look you gave me when you bought our dogs, don’t lie to me, woman.”

You shake your head softly before he tries to make sense of the non-verbal news you’ve just shared with him.

“You’re… we’re having another baby?”

“Don’t be silly!” You scoff, swatting at his chest. “I wouldn’t make a big song and dance if we were having another baby!”

There’s a glimmer of sadness in his eye while he pretends to deflate in relief, hand clutching to his chest dramatically. He opens his mouth to speak while you dig through your purse in search for a small, yellow envelope. If he wasn’t wallowing in self pity, he’d ask what you were looking for, what you could’ve possibly picked up from the gynecologist to home.

You grab it, dig around for the small set of pictures and toss it onto his lap, letting him look and fully take in the pictures, eyes wide as saucers and hands trembling slightly.

Ultrasound pictures.

He looks up at you. You smile down with a nod.

“We’re having two.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion's s/o giving him a massage that has him making suggestive noises?

-------------------------------🩸-------------------------------

Gale hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep reading until he opened his eyes. It had been a long day of running around the city. Looking for clues on the Bhaal cult. Gathering more information on the Brain and allies to stop it. Saving orphans & kittens out of trees.

He wasn’t sure what woke him, until he heard quite, hushed voices at his back.

“You have to relax, Astarion.”

“I’m trying.” The vampire replied. His voice sounded different. No longer the charming lark, but a little strained and husky. “You’re going too deep, too fast.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of you.” Tav seemed to remind him. Then there was a gurgled groan from Astarion. “Don’t I always take care of you?”

Gale’s face was as red as an apple at this point. Were they really doing that just a few feet from his bed?? Where was everyone else?? Down in the tavern he hoped. Who has sex just mere foot steps away from another person??

“Your fingers are magic.” Astarion groaned.

“Well, they carry literal magic.” Tav chuckled. Mystra’s eye….

“Oh! Oh Gods right there!”

“Don’t tense up on me.” Tav hissed at Astarion. The bed creaking under them.

“I’m trying, it’s just that…mpmh!”

“Alright that’s quite enough! If you two can’t keep it—” Gale’s indignation had reached it’s peak, and he whirled around to confront the lovers about what they were doing ‘in front of him’, only to find Tav fully clothed and sitting across Astarion’s waist. Clearly not doing what he thought they were doing, and his face grew hot again.

“Oh. Gale. I’m sorry. Did we wake you?”

“Sorry old chum. Tav darling was just working out this kink in my back from sleeping on all those rocks. One never realizes how much tension that binds up until they’re in a proper bed again.”

Gale coughed and swung his legs over the side of his own bed. “Yes…well…I appreciate the apology. I think I’m going to head downstairs to the tavern for a night cap.” Then the wizard all but raced to the door to make it downstairs.

“Poor Gale…”

“Poor Gale indeed.” Astarion agreed. “Imagine what he would have done if he could see what your Mage Hands were doing under this blanket.” Tav pursed their lips and pinched at Astarion’s ear lobe. The spell in question fading, perhaps out of spite.

The vampire just grinned over his shoulder. Somehow grabbing Tav and flipping them onto the bed. The blanket over his waist now asunder as he was completely nude with non-nude counterpart. “Alone at last, my love.” He cooed before kissing them.