#and god bless it was directed by a woman too

[trash-nerd]

riding an endorphin high bc i fixed a huge ass problem for a member that Really should have been fixed last year

#i'm stuck in the trash #cMON #members talk to HR/providers maybe TWICE and then we get involved!!! #thats our jobs!!!!! LITERALLY thats what were here for!!!!!!! #i was so mad for this poor woman too. seeing Every time she called for MONTHS she just got directed to her HR WHO NEVER CALLED US???? #its a mess. but im cleaning it up and quickly. god bless type a personalities

[glitterquadricorn]

Another Leclerc - social media

+ summary: When rumors go around about another Leclerc joining the f1 grid, people automatically assume its Arthur, completely forgetting about y/n leclerc. She'll do anything for a formula one seat. Even if it meant going behind a certain driver's back. +pairing: none. + warning(s): sexism, google translate (I don't speak Italian nor French but if I have something wrong, let me know), like one curse word.

face claim: Lindsay brewer

+ author's note: for a while now I've been wanting to get back into writing, but writing fics stress me out, so I figured making social media/instgram posts will be a lot easier to put together. I've also decided to change how I do social media posts and I'm trying to figure things out, so in the meantime, bear with me.

itsy/nleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 20,102 others

itsy/nleclerc: *insert Sebastian Vettel quote here*

view all comments

charles_leclerc: isn't that my jacket? ⤷itsynleclerc: If I said no would you believe me? ⤷charles_leclerc: give me back my jacket or I'll tell mom ⤷itsy/nleclerc: go ahead and tell mom, you snitch

user1: Charles and y/n is exactly how my sister, and I are whenever she burrows my clothes.

patriciooward: when are you going to let me drive your Ferrari?⤷itsy/nleclerc: never. ⤷josefnewgarden: she won't even let me drive it and I'm her teammate! ⤷12willpower: she's let me drive it ⤷patriciooward: Y/N! I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!! ⤷itsy/nleclerc: other than my beloved Ferrari, I only love my bed and my mom I'm sorry!

user2: this made me feel ✨poor✨

scuderiaferrari: you have great taste, miss leclerc ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thank you! :)

user3: you look real good in red liked by itsy/nleclerc

user4: I so badly want her to race for Ferrari with Charles! liked by itsy/nleclerc

arthur_leclerc: is there something you want to share with the class?⤷itsy/nleclerc: nope 🤐

user5: y/n clearly knows something we don't ⤷user6: you don't think she's the leclerc deuxmoi is talking about, right? ⤷user5: I hope not because Arthur honestly deserves that f1 seat more than her.

ScuderiaFerrari:

liked by itsy/nleclerc, charles_leclerc, f1 and 3,689,758 others.

scuderiaferrari: two-time indy 500 winner & one-time indycar champion and the first woman to be in formula one since Lella Lombardi, y/n leclerc joins Ferrari in 2026!

view all comments

itsy/nleclerc: this has always been a childhood dream of mine to race for Ferrari! grazie per questa sorprendente opportunità! (thank you for this amazing opportunity) liked by scuderiaferarri

carlossainz55: you can't be serious

charles_leclerc: papa and jules would be proud ⤷itsy/n_leclerc: I know 😭😭

pierregasly: Congrats little leclerc! ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thank you, mon frère (my brother)

josefnewgarden: I'll miss having you around ⤷itsy/nleclerc: you and misses are always welcome to come to Monaco ⤷josefnewgarden: we might just take you up on that offer

lewishamilton: hopefully this is a step in the right direction in making the paddock more inclusive and welcoming for everyone! liked by itsy/nleclerc

user1: y/n doesn't belong in formula one. ⤷user2: and the fact that she's replacing someone that didn't need to be replaced is astounding! ⤷user3: the pressure will be too much for her and she'll fail like past women who've tried to make it in f1 ⤷user4: I predict she won't make it to summer break before she quits ⤷user5: why is it so hard for you to comprehend a woman being in formula one? I mean, if you hate women, just say so.

user6: my daughter has expressed interest in karting because of y/n

12willpower: I wish you nothing but the best, kid. ⤷itsy/nleclerc: thanks, old man! 😘

user7: y/n signing to Ferrari is great and all, but I'm over here asking myself what tf is in the water in monaco because it should be illegal to be this good looking! ⤷user8: you're out here asking the real questions ⤷user9: all I'm saying is God bless mama Leclerc

Chili man🌶️ How could do this to me? I thought we were friends.

Mini Leclerc What do you mean?

Chili man🌶️ Don't play dumb, y/n. You know exactly what you did.

Mini Leclerc Yes, I did sign with Ferrari. Yes, I did take your seat. You didn't sign an extension and they reached out to me. I saw an opportunity and I took it.

Chili man🌶️ I was getting ready to talk to Fred about an extension.

Mini Leclerc Early bird gets the worm?

Chili Man🌶️ You're a real bitch, you know that?

Mini Leclerc You think that's the first time a man, much less anyone has called me that? You know as much as I do that Formula one is a competitive sport and in order to get a seat, you may have to do some unspeakable things. Let me ask you a question, though. If the roles were reversed and you were me, would you have done the same thing?

*read*

Mini Leclerc you leaving me on read lets me know you would've. But I'll never apologize for my actions, Carlos. If you have any interest in IndyCar, I can give you some resources to help you out. Good luck in any of your future endeavors, Carlos.

---

thank you to @lorarri and @majaverse for helping me out. they didn't have to do that, but they did, so this is dedicated to them! :)

tagging list:

@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @patzammit @yagirlmexic @tinycyberhacker @keenmarvellover @mrspeacem1nusone @lendeluxe @alexxavicry

if your name is crossed out, I couldn't tag you.

I'm going clean out my tagging list again, so if you want to stay on it, let me know.

#f1 x reader #formula one x driver!reader #formula one imagine #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #charles leclerc x leclerc!reader #arthur leclerc x leclerc!reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x driver!reader

[missroki]

CUPID IS SO DUMB! ┊ GOJO SATORU

star dusted arrows are standard. they have the advantage of being blessed by the gods, unable to bend or warp unless you add just the right amount of pressure. the only downside is that they are too light in the hands, practically a figment of your imagination with how the shaft would leave no impression on your palm. 

modern arrows have a more practical use, carbon made with hints of aluminum and soul fragments. they’re heavier, sturdier, made to withstand even the thickest of material. satoru has been using the same arrows for a millennia, so he finds himself befuddled to find that each one of his expertly crafted projectiles are snapping like wooden twigs.

either his bad eyesight has finally caught up to him, or you were simply unloveable.

you with your pretty smile and silly heart printed headband. you who had been shot easily by his arrow only a few days prior.

somehow, despite his best efforts, silly little you was still moving through your college campus with a scarlet red arrow lodged in your lower back; invisible to the perception of mortals but a bright beacon of satoru’s failure to any god who happened to pass by. 

he can hear the scolding now, how a cupid couldn’t even shoot an arrow! he can see the disappointed gaze of venus as she stares down at her creation. what is a god if his will can be altered by a mere mortal? what sort of spell are you casting that makes every man reject the love satoru is desperately trying to bless them with?

sure, you were a bit quirky — but you were clearly beautiful. the fact that you had needed any intervention from a cupid at all is a mystery within itself. from what he could tell, you were kind and true; a brilliant orange blossom in a sea of weeds. someone that could rival aphrodite herself (though he of course would never say this out loud.)

according to suguru, the cupids were meant to just push you in the right direction. to give you humans that final nudge.

you have managed to turn a nudge into a full on tackle.

countless hours have been spent watching as you glide through your university, avoiding every man in your general vicinity. it’s not a woman you seek (satoru has tried to pair you with the roommate you seem to spend most of your time with) and he couldn’t possibly pair you with the fictional man that runs across your television. (you should really sit further away from the screen.)

any time he finds you close to anyone, he takes a chance. shot after shot and each arrow ricochets into the nearest bush or snaps as if the mere thought of the match was absurd. he doesn’t understand you!

never in all of these years has he heard of such a case. you were infuriatingly difficult. stubborn, even! how else could he explain your inability to match with anyone? you must be doing it on purpose at this point.

satoru sulks, letting his chin rest in the palm of his hand as he leans against a building ledge. he feels the leather strap of his quiver pressing into his bare chest, his white pants low on his hips.

if he knows your schedule, you should be arriving at your favorite coffee shop in no time. it’s valentine’s day, after all, and they had a delicious heart shaped donut ready and fresh for customers. all he’d have to do was wait. surely the ache in his wings would be worth it in the end!

he hears you before he sees you, the soft click of your shoes as they hurry down the sidewalk. you seem to be rushing, books tightly held to your chest and your hair in a simpler style than usual. you aren’t even wearing your signature heart patterned headband… on valentine’s day.

you’re clearly not yourself and something about the thought… upsets satoru. you should be cheerful in that annoying way you always are. what’s going on?

you’re looking down at your phone when a man leaves the coffee shop. what appears to be a hot chocolate rests firmly in his hand. he’s also not paying attention, looking in the opposite direction of you and blissfully unaware.

he’s attractive enough, bright pink hair and an equally stupid grin on his face. he looks like the type of guy that would match you well (if the pink aura surrounding him was anything to go by.) a prime candidate for love, the emotion oozing out of him in waves.

satoru perks up at this. anyone from a mile away could see what was about to occur. it was a prime moment in any cupid’s career, a turn of events so perfect that the stars seemed to align for this very purpose:

a meet cute.

depending on how hot that drink was, potentially a meet ugly!

the white haired angel positions his arrow in his bow, nocking the sharp point as he eyes his target. satoru lowers his chin, weight on the balls of his feet as he leans forward off of his heels.

you’re almost there now, only a few more steps until you are to meet the love of your life. the thought brings a small smirk to satoru’s face. finally, you’d be out of his hair. he wasn’t sure if he could watch you binge another reality tv show.

he takes in a deep breath. points, aims, and shoots.

the arrow lodges itself into the man’s arm, effectively causing him to drop his drink... on the dress shoes of someone else.

it sticks! or at least… he think it does?

the arrow in the man’s arm disappears as if it was merely a trick of the light and he sparks up a conversation with the hot chocolate victim. with the way this new darker haired man seems to be unphased, satoru assumes they are already acquainted. 

if the kiss the pink haired man presses onto his cheek is anything to go by, all satoru managed to do was make their love stronger.

you on the other hand are still on your phone, typing away with that cursed point still sticking out of your lower back.

a red hot blush rushes to satoru’s face as he reaches for another arrow, anger rising deep in his stomach and lingering in his chest. you have managed to evade him again but this will be the last time!

he reaches into his quiver blindly, eyes focused only on you and your adorable face and pretty hair and stupid— ouch!

warmth quickly replaces the anger he felt in his chest, nervous fluttering forcing its way into his stomach. satoru quickly moves his hand away from his arrows, the smallest drop of blood blooming on his fingertip. with a shift of weight, he can tell instantly that another arrow has disappeared.

uh oh.

one glance down at the street and he can see the tension lift from your shoulders, your eyes flickering around until they lock onto his. the arrow in your back is gone, but satoru has seen that lovesick gaze many times before in training. he assumes that he wears the same one now.

his first day back on the job and he has already managed to break one of the main rules of cupidhood: don’t get pricked by your own arrow.

maybe suguru was on to something when he said to store arrows with the pointy side facing down?

you’re moving towards him now; quickly and with confusion riddled on your face. satoru won’t lie and say he doesn’t get it. one minute you’re experiencing the worst cramp of your life and the next, the pain is alleviated and a half-dressed man is staring at you from the top of an abandoned grocery store.

maybe he could call in sick.

do cupids get sick days? if so, satoru is sure he has plenty of PTO saved up to take the rest of the day off. maybe the effects of the arrows would wear off after some well deserved rest? perhaps you wouldn’t find a celestial being to be a good option for a romantic endeavor?

by the determined look in your features, that seems unlikely.

he can hear you stomp up the stairs of the building, the metal steps creaking with every press from your shoes. satoru finds himself growing nervous, a cold sweat lingering on his forehead and hands. the arrows must be having an effect on him already, because when you finally enter the rooftop, all he can think about is how underdressed he is for the occasion.

you are his perfect match, after all.

your hands rest on your hips, your eyes looking unreasonably lovesick. as satoru goes to explain himself, you interject.

“so are you like… cupid or something?” huh, you figured that out quicker than expected.

“well, i’m actually—“

“because if you are, you're… pretty bad at your job.” an apologetic look appears on your features, hands clasping together as you play with your fingers.

the white haired man lets out a scoff.

“for your information i’m a cupid. there’s like… thousands of us or something. if anyone should complain it’s me! trying to find you a match has been torture.”

your eyes brows furrow, your arms now moving to cross over your chest. you do that a lot, fidgeting. satoru imagines that you also feel the same heat that he does. it’s annoying, distracting.

there’s a twinkle in your eye, something close to teasing but not quite. “so you decided to just snatch me up for yourself? pretty drastic decision, no?”

“this,” his finger points at the space between you, “was an accident. i was trying to get you with that pink haired kid.”

“yuuji? he has a boyfriend, stupid.”

“cupid and yes, i know that now.”

“the heart eyes he was making at megumi wasn’t enough for you?”

“megu– isn’t that a girl name?”

“why are you even here?” you ask, deciding to ignore his comment for now.

satoru sighs, removing his quiver to show the arrows on his back. “i’m a cupid, remember? i’m helping humans fall in love for the holiday! you were on my list but…” he glances down at his finger. “there were complications.”

you nod slowly, a ghost of an arrow now lingering in your lower back. “so, what now? i’ve never exactly been with a cupid before.”

your companion hums, glancing down at the coffee shop across the street. “well i’ve never even spoken to a human before so, i think you’re at an advantage.”

it’s at this moment that your stomach rumbles, an embarrassingly loud sound that can’t be covered up by the sounds of people commuting around you.

“maybe…” you start, walking towards him. “we can grab a bite to eat?”

he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that eating isn’t necessary for his kind. “since i’m going to probably get fired anyway? sure. might as well.”

you smile and extend a hand to him. satoru takes it, though that same burning only gets worse, traveling up his arm and down the back of his neck.

“lead the way, little human.”

it was going to be a long day.

note: this was definitely supposed to be longer but no matter how hard i tried the words were not coming, lmao. hopefully y’all enjoy this little valentine’s day drabble anyway!

MISSROKI. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

#‧₊˚ 🖇️ ۫ ⭒ — sorin writes. #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo x black reader #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x black reader #jjk fluff #cw blood

[writersblg]

how the cod characters would answer their partners unwanted direct messages

You sat on the couch next to your partner when you scrolled through your DMs. After looking up the posts your friends sent you, you looked at the messages from profiles you weren’t following. You wouldn’t respond but nevertheless loved reading through them. It ranged from innocent compliments to downright filthy requests to send theses strangers pictures of yourself. When you laughed at these texts your partner looked over to you “What’s so funny?” - “Look.” You say, hand over your phone and let them answer your DMs.

Simon

Rates the profiles of the people that hit on you

“He’s too short for you, anyway.”

Reads a lot of your DM’s aloud because he knows it makes you cringe

Also tries to remember some of the pick up lines you get send to use it later on you

“I don’t know which is prettier today—the weather, or your eyes.” “Are you a light switch? Because you turn me on.” “I’d say, ‘God bless you,’ but it looks like he already did.” WITH THE SMUGGEST SMILE ON HIS FACE

Also answers profiles that keep texting you “she’s not interested.”

If the guy still keeps pressing Simon would offer to solve it like men and sends him an address and time, he fully knows the guy won’t show up

Soap

Someone sent you a dick pic

Johnny laughs at the picture

“Cute” he says and excuses himself to the bathroom if he’s feeling generous (if not he’ll pull his pants down right in front of you to snap a pic)

Sends a snap back without any text

Ends up traumatising the guy and you get blocked in a matter of seconds

Saves the picture in your gallery in case another guy pulls the same stunt

Gaz

Kinda feels insulted when the people who DM‘d you are ugly

“Smash.”

“He’s a good looking fella, right?” He says and it’s not even a trap

Starts flirting with them on your behalf to make you seem like a lunatic

Asks them a lot of astrological questions and very ridiculous ones at that and sees how far they are willing to go

Very disgusted at some requests you get and sometimes answers with “that’s not a way to speak to a woman”

Price

Sees all of them as losers

In his mind dating should never start online

Just deletes all DMs you get send before you even see them

Every time though he sees a 10/10 he deletes the message from that person and gets you flowers the next day

Has a hard time not policing your instagram posts but just from a safety standpoint

Alex

Might send a selfie back with an additional “sorry bud”

Somehow becomes friends with that stranger over your DMs

Might get invited to the wedding because he’d find that funny and makes him hold a unofficial speech

Farah

Gets so worked up over this

You literally try to get your phone back to calm her down but she won’t give it back

Kinda starts an argument about it and a pretty big one unfortunately

Makes you turn your profile to private

Valeria

Just texts them “stay away”

If they keep texting she’ll find their addresses 😭

Literally sends death threats via mail

While you’re just happily saying “they stopped harassing me! :) how did you do that?” - “they won’t bother you again :)” - 😟

Otherwise your biggest cheerleader on your social medias

Alejandro

Gets overly protective

Close to start a fight over text

Is blocking people left and right

Accidentally also blocks a few of your friends out of impulsiveness and they end up hating him

Rudy

“Sorry she’s in a relationship but I’ll let her know :)” after you got a compliment

Very respectful about rejecting dudes no matter how ridiculous they were

Keegan

You got a “Are you looking for a sugar daddy?” DM

Has watched these scammer videos and now wants to try it for himself

Gets into a whole relationship with this scammer

Lowkey becomes his new hobby to message that guy over the next weeks

He talks to you what to say next

Uses a ridiculously high pitched voice while typing

Starts stealing your phone for that

One day comes running to you announcing that you’re he’s getting married

A/N: since this post is still popping off do any of you have travel tips for Scotland? 🫶

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #captain john price #price x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #keegan p russ #keegan x reader #valeria el sin nombre garza #Valeria garza #farah x reader #farah karim #alex keller #rudolfo parra #alejandro vargas #alejandro x reader

[amongussexgif]

Howdy folks. I’ve said I’d make a rant about this for a while. It’s time.

Let’s start with the basics. Mesopomatia is the earliest known human civilization. Humans existed before them, but this was the first “city”. They also made the first writing. This rant also kinda covers Sumerian tuff, because the two groups had a bit of a merging.

You know what transgenderism is. You’re on tumblr dot com. Chances are you are a transgenderist yourself

Transphobes often say that transgenderism is a “new concept” and that “nobody was trans 20 years ago”. For the record, you don’t have to go as far back as Mesopotamia. There’s Greece, Egypt, Hawaii, and tons of others I fail to remember. But yeah, we date back to The First City.

The First People believed in many gods, one of which you’ve likely heard of. Today’s subject: Inanna/Ishtar, The Queen of Heaven (I’ll be calling her Inanna, as it’s her original name). She was the goddess of Sex, War, and Justice. The most notable things she was believed to do were changing people’s genders and being an absolute queen. Like fr she slayed-

Anyways, the “transgender power” as I’m gonna call it because it's funny, is well documented in poetry fragments, with the direct quote “To turn a man into a woman and a woman into a man are yours, Inanna.” This was written by Enheduanna, Inanna’s High Priestess from Ur (Ur is a city).

Speaking of Inanna’s Priests and Priestesses, they were actually known for their androgyny. Poems and Dedications to Inanna often included them, with the direct depiction of the goddess transfer-ify-ing them. It’s unknown if these and the Gala are the same priests, so I’ll add a little space and talk about them for a bit.

The Gala were priestesses for Inanna created by the god Enki (who is really fuckign cool for non-trans reasons (might talk about him sometime)) to sing for her. Mourning Rites previously sung by women got taken over by the Gala, and as men joined, they adopted ALL societal roles and expectations of women, switching to female names and singing in the Sumerian eme-sal dialect, which was reserved for women trying to render the speech of female gods. The Gala looked after the sick and poor, and were highly respected by the rest of the Mesopotamian peoples.

Time to talk about the Pilipili! They were a group of cultic performers who worshiped Inanna, with the name coming from a person named Pilipili. They were raised as a woman (according to Mesopotamia’s gender roles), and were blessed by Inanna and given the name Pilipili. Inanna gave them a spear, an item associated very heavily with masculinity “as if she were a man” and they are only referred to as “The Transformed Pilipili” from that point on. “Spear'' is also thought to have phallic meaning here, which is even more directly saying that Inanna trans’ed Pilipili’s gender.

How about we move beyond the cult on Inanna now? A statue (or technically statuette but honestly whatever) found in the city of Mari depicts a singing woman. But wait! The name of the depicted person is “Ur-Nanshe”, a masculine name! This might mean nothing, but honestly, you’d assume transgenderism too if you met a woman named Steven. The statue has a soft face with traces of makeup, and it’s got tiddies!

A statue in the British museum (which for the record should not be in there. give it back) has a label translated as “Hermaphrodite of Inanna”. Hermaphrodite has a different meaning now, which a different translator, Cheryl Morgan, recognized, stating that “person-man-woman” would be more accurate. We don’t know specifics about their gender, but clearly this was a person outside of the gender binary who was not only significant enough to have a statue of them made, but also assumedly well-liked!

So, to summarize, Ancient Mesopotamia viewed genderqueer individuals as:

often blessed by the Queen of Heaven

transgender-ify-ed by said Queen of Heaven

well respected enough to be priests

said cult of trans priests was also said to be made by another god in devotion to Inanna

significant and well-liked enough to have statues of them

sounds like we should take some notes from our ancestors, huh?

#transgender #nonbinary #genderqueer #transphobes can suck it!!!!!! #mesopotamia #history #queer history #lgbt history #trans history #reblogs appreciated

[cookiepie111]

࿐Drink from the leche of sirens࿐

Synopsis - An injury könig comes across a lake and pretty nymph. Greek au könig x black nymph reader. No minors. Smut

Part 2 here

A/N-

An alternate to the fountain girl fic I wrote.

Think this might be the longest thing I've written. There is a Pinterest mood board here. Shout out to @cinnamonbunboii cause their comment inspired this fic. Please like and reblog!

Tags: @terra-713 @cinnamonbunboii @kneelingshadowsalome @bucca2

       𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼 - - - - - - - - 𓇼

Deities are petty beings, twisting the hearts of humans when things don't go their way. König and his army may have won the battle but the casualties were high, he himself was beat and bruised. Its just a game to them and what do you do when you're losing and angry, you flip out, over turn the board and scatter the pieces. Think of a new way to win while your opponent garthers up their fallen pieces.

Scattered by the wind, what a cliche but it works, in all the commotion the soldiers were separated, placed in every which direction, on land, and both above and below the heavens. How petty all this because you lost. Somehow this wasn't the worst part of könig's day just the final cherry on top the shitty Sunday the gods gave him. His lover betrayed him, separated from his allies, battered and bruised and now there's nothing around him but trees. If not for the situation and burning rage in his heart he'd find the place quite peaceful, beautiful even, a nice place to die.

The deeper könig went into the forest the more the atmosphere changed, trees bend and shift, covering the sky above. The slow dance of leaves and bright glow of the fireflies. All of it leading up to a lake in the clearing. It all felt too to unnatural to be real, like sweet honey leading him a trap. Pressing into the wound at his side, the sharp pain brought him back to his senses, this isn't the place to lose one's mind he'd need to keep his wits about him if he wanted to live.

Even if he doesn't want to accept it there's no denying this would be a beautiful place to die. Even now he hates himself for still thinking of her, even at the moment of his death she still has place in his mind. she'd love this place, a backdrop like this would only accentuate her beauty more.

He walked close to the lake feeling the trees shift around him again. Laying back on the trees bark sword placed on the ground.

The waters surface ripples altering könig to the figure in the lake, its shape he couldn't quite make out. A head, a person maybe. This place could be cursed, it wouldn't surprise him. He stares back never removing his eyes from them watching as they stay just below the water.

If he's intruded on some beings land they'll just have to put up with him or force him out. He's got enough strength for one last fight. It is after all the way of the warrior to go out fighting he thinks, unsteady as he pushes off the tree bark.

You can't remember the last time you saw another human here, they often end up with your older sister although you doubt they've all been this large and imposing. Even injured he carries himself very well. The cut in his stomach only causing him to hunch over, you doubt the blood covering him is his own.

Once at the water's edge the thoughts of battle quickly die down. It a woman in the water, human she is not but a woman still. The skin of human women doesn't glow or shine. Their skin isn't adorned with scales of greans and blue hues around their eyes nor does their hair shift and swirl like small currents atop the waters surface like yours. No those features that were that of nymph. Women of nature blessed with great beauty. And unfortunately for könig drowners of men.

His odds are about 50/50 he wouldn't drown so easily but that wasn't a risk he wanted to take, with his body is failing him now, heavy breaths as he falls back to the ground. Eyes still on the nymph at his front, she makes no move, just watching.

It takes a few moments for her to move a few more heavy breaths and groans from könig for her to lift from the water.

When she comes out to meet him she bare. Thin pieces of fabric dropping over her waist and chest slipping under her right breast, past her womanhood, more like an accessory one would add cause they thought it looked nice than a piece of clothing. Thick curly hair swirling around her body

To think he could still get hard at a time like this.

Drowning doesn't seem so bad now if it is by her hand.Maybe a kiss from them would send him peaceful into the afterlife.

She stood over him head tilling side from side,trying to figure the man out. He hasn't said anything, he doesn't shout or draw his sword like the other men she's seen. He's also taller, bigger, more.... solid than other men, gracing a hand down his arm. Kneeling beside him, the injury is worse than she thought. did one of the gods bring him here? Or did he just wonder here himself? You held your chin swaying on your heels deep in thought

König felt delirious, he's injured, lost and now there's a pretty nymph circling round, staring, pocking and prodding at him. If this was any other situation he'd take her in the moment. Hull her over his shoulder and fuck her till scream or blesses him, gives him heavenly children. But he's tired and weak, he can do nothing but watch as she frees his egear cock from his tunic.

He's never felt like this before, grunting and wincing under her touch. He's sure she's sucking the energy out of him.  Maybe its the bloodloss maybe it the fire at the groin the licking and kissing along his shaft causing the dizziness in him, eyes shut tight and panting as he comes closer to the edge but the release never comes. feeling her tongue stroke the entire length of him as she comes up.

The next moment for könig were pure bliss, something straight out of dream. To have her now Straddling him bouncing so eagerly on his cock, was a feeling he could never forget. The sweet stretch as she sank. It was frustrating not being able to touch her, She didn't move fast enough not for könig liking. He was too weak to set the pace, his hand only able to rest on the plush of her hip. Even if she used him like a toy könig couldn't help but throw his head back in pleasure at the squeeze of her soft walls.

Her hands explored the body under her, digging into the wounds, ignoring his hisses and complaints, pushing him back down before he finds the strength to push her off. It felt hot then numb, as she dug into his wounds.

With new found strength he bucked his hips, against her. The sound of their love making filling the forest air, his hands firmly at her hips to move her at a pace he found fit, fast and messy before emptying himself inside her.

When he finally came back down from the high he finds her form shake and ripple above him. The words die on his tongue, as her form melts down, and fades away into the water

He gets up able without stumbling this time walking straight finding himself back at the army base. König's honestly not sure if that really happened or if he was just crazy. He has nothing to show for the whole ordeal to prove it was real. He knows on the brink of the death the mind can conger all sorts of things to keep one alive but nothing could explain sleeping with a water nymph. he'd like to think he wasn't deranged...To imagine sleeping with being that would normally drown you but...

The only evidence he had was his body. The open wound in his stomach gone, his whole body intact even stronger than before. He'll think about this alot after wondering if you were really real. It would be best to get you out of his mind. Yet he sees you in the lakes and bodies of water and in the faces of women passing him by

You on the other hand couldn't believe your luck! Showing off the keepsake you'd got from the soldiers.

Red bracelet shining under the sun as you turned it on your wrist to show off to your sisters. Giggling and splashing round the waters edge. You're so lucky such a strong and handsome man!

"Wow what's his name".... "You did get his name right???" ... you didn't get his name. You didn't get his name! And honestly you're not sure which army he's with you can't tell the difference between the armours

#könig x black reader #könig smut #könig x reader smut #könig x reader #cod smut #call of duty x reader #könig x y/n #cod x black reader #call of duty x black reader #call of duty smut #my writing #x black reader #cod x reader #könig imagine #cod x reader smut #cod imagine #cod fanfic #greek gods au #greek mythology #greek au #nymph reader

[sugurufic]

Student of the Year (Gojo x Reader, Geto x Reader)

Summary: Saint Teresa, the planned destination for the rich, and a dream for those who can't afford it. Of course, there's a tension between the rich and the scholarship kids, the rich ones acting so much better than the others. All of that changes, when Suguru Geto, the new scholarship kid joins, blurring the lines between the two cliques. Satoru Gojo, the resident rockstar, the son of the most affluent man, the poster boy of the rich. You, the hottest girl on campus, Satoru’s girlfriend (or are you). Friends, bitches, love and betrayal - a competition to ruin all relationships. 

Content Warning: fluff, fights, focused on SatoSugu, reader is rich and low-key a bitch, fuckboy Satoru, love triangle (stsg and reader) breakups, friendship breakups, typical Bollywood drama, a few swear words, ends on a positive note

Word Count: 21k | masterlist

A/N: For those of you unfamiliar with SOTY i've attached the links to the movie's songs <3 the tall guy is Sugu and shorter one is Satoru's character

Saint Teresa - the college where dreams come true, or nightmares become real. Saint Teresa is a big name with a big game - having a big division in the trust fund kids and the scholarship kids. There’s the star of the trust fund kids - Satoru Gojo - the son of the biggest tycoon of the country, who is blessed by the gods with a charming face and a gift for music, and wants to be a rockstar. Music is his passion, but he does have a lover - only the prettiest girl of Saint Teresa, the one sought after by everyone who's anyone. She drowns in luxury, dropping brand names like they were some pop stars. The only things she doesn’t lack are beauty and money.

One might think that with the prettiest girl of the school at his side, Satoru wouldn’t even look at other people, but as the first day of the new college term rolls out, you’re met with the sight of your boyfriend of four years getting a little to cosy to Tanya, his hand on her waist and her hands on his chest. You see red - the wine in your hand finding a target besides your mouth.

You pat his back, trying to get his attention, but he pushes you off in favour of whispering dirty-nothings to Tanya, the brunette soaking up his attention. The fates are cruel and the other woman notices you first, and Satoru only turns around to see you when Tanya asks him to.

He’s shocked, surprised and begins profusely apologising for not noticing you earlier, while Tanya looks at you with an annoying smirk plastered on her face.

“You know Tanya, wine stains are the hardest to get rid off,” You tell her, feeling positively malicious, directing your anger at her instead of Satoru.

“Thanks for the washing machine tip, I guess?” She responds, her voice snarky.

“You’ll need it,” you say, before throwing the remaining wine onto her white top and stalking away from the both of them.

“Baby, listen!” Satoru calls after you, catching up easily with his long legs. “Baby, I said I’m sorry, why did you have to do that?”

“Listen, Satoru,” You emphasised on his name, an angry crease between your brows. “If you don’t leave your company this term, I will leave you. Fix yourself.”

“Baby, you look so sexy, all jealous and threatening me,” Satoru teases, licking his lips as he looks down at you.

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” You say, not using any endearments for him. “You’ve been at it for too long. Stop testing me.”

A new sports scholarship student joins Saint Teresa for the new term, state level track gold medalist and a martial arts champion - Suguru Geto. He’s from a humble background, not having the flair and pomp of the rich kids, but he has the confidence and the skills to make things work. He drives his simple motorbike to the campus from the dorms, backpack on his shoulder. His long dark hair is tied up in a bun, and a few bangs frame his pretty face. 

(Kukkad)

He parks his bike at an empty spot, when two guys, one blond and the other raven  haired, come up to him. Suguru looks at them, a little confused, but doesn’t say anything regardless.

“Hey bangs guy, don’t you know this parking spot is reserved for the Satoru Gojo?” Ichiji Kiyotaka says. He too is one of the scholarship kids, dressed in simple clothes. His companion, Kento Nanami, seems like a scholarship kid as well with his too-neat hair and simple shirt and jeans. “Go park your bike somewhere else.”

He looks at them, scowling, but doesn’t attempt to move his bike.

Just then, the man in question rolls in with his blue Ferrari, lips turned up in disgust on seeing his usual spot occupied with a cheap bike he can’t even be bothered to know the name of. 

“Kiyotaka, why is the trash here?” His voice is arrogant and full of himself, glaring at Kiyotaka and the bangs guy from behind his opaque sunglasses. “Don’t I pay you to keep my spot empty everyday?”

“This trash is called a motorbike and runs on petrol, you see,” Suguru says, voice laced in calm confidence.

“What did you say was your name again?” Satoru asks, sparkly blue eyes scrutinising him up and down from under his fluffy white hair - right from his bun and bangs to his sneakers, lip curling in disgust.

“I simply never said it,” Suguru simply says, purple eyes fixed on him, a model of confidence.

Satoru’s sidekick, another kid paying full fees, Yu Haibara, chimed in,  “Are you trying to play Crorepati with us? You’ll give options and then we’ll have to choose?”

“I’m called Suguru Geto,” Suguru finally says, the air of confidence never leaving him.

“Suguru,” Satoru tries saying his name, the disinterest in his voice feigns - behind his sunglasses, his blue eyes are trying to find a point of weakness. “Well, Suguru, this is my parking spot, and I’m asking you to take your tractor away.”

Suguru doesn’t respond, going to the blue Ferrari instead, saying, “2005 Ferrari F360 Spider convertible, 400 horsepower with alloy wheels, a great car.”

“What are you man or Google?” Kiyotaka Ichiji comments.

“Maybe he was a mechanic back in his village,” Satoru says, looking down on him.

“A valet at the nightclub,” Suguru says.

“Valet?” Satoru says, giddy on finally finding a weakness. He throws him the keys of the car, which the bangs guy expertly catches and says, “Take the keys and park my car. And here’s some cash, maybe get your tractor cleaned.” He pauses for a moment, then adds. “Keep the change,”

Everyone waits with a baited breath to see the calm, confident bangs guy reaction, Satoru with a cocky smirk on his lips as Suguru calmly gets in the driver side of the car and the engine roars to life. There’s a collective gasp as Suguru takes the 2005 F360 to the muddy ground and runs it around in near perfect doughnuts, turning the baby blue to a muddy brown. There’s a crowd gathered around him, loud gossip travelling in the crowd, half terrified, half annoyed but most of it admiring the man with the bangs.

The white haired man’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest at the rage he’s feeling - no one ever dares to cross him, especially not a scholarship kid who couldn’t even afford to be there. He is seeing red, eyes bloodshot and focused on Suguru, he’ll rip the confidence right out of him with the bangs everyone is seeming to talk about.

Satoru is ready to fight, when Suguru lazily steps out of the blue Ferrari and throws the keys right back to the owner. When Satoru is in closer range, the dark haired man takes the cash that he’d been given and hands it back saying, “Here’s some cash to get your car cleaned.” Suguru steps back and takes a short pause. “And please, keep the change.”

Being insulted like that on the first day of the new term by some scholarship brat was not on Satoru Gojo’s bucket list. He is red with rage, and throws the sunglasses off and pushes his white hair back from his forehead before raising his fists to hit the new guy, but Suguru’s easy defence only eggs him on more. They’re fighting, but Suguru has a bit of the upper hand with his expertise in martial arts. But soon the two are being pulled apart by the crowd while the rest continue recording the fight. To everyone else, it was a brilliant first day of school, and gossip fodder for everyone for the whole term.

They’re both escorted to the Dean, Masamichi Yaga’s office, the old man not very happy to be dealing with silly boy fist fights on the first day of the newest term. He has been in a nice mood this morning after talking with his bonsai plant, but that’s ruined now. He sounds jolly when he begins his questions, “Boys will be boys, bad boys, right?”  His jolly tone deceives Satoru who nods in agreement.

“No, nonsense. This uncivilised behaviour is unexpected from students of St. Teresa,” He scolds them both. “Which one of you started the fight?”

“Sir, he did,” Satoru says, pointing to his left. “He parked in my spot,”

“It was empty when I came,” Suguru counters, annoyed. “It’s not your father’s parking, is it?”

“You know what, it actually is,” Satoru turns to him, nerves getting the best of him. “My father is the biggest trustee of St. Teresa-”

“You must think that your dad pays my salary as well then, Mr. Gojo,” Dean Yaga intervenes in a sassy voice. “You don’t speak like that in my office, Mr. Gojo. Speaking of your father, I’ve invited him as our first guest speaker, so he’ll be here in a day or two. I’ll let him know of your antics then,”

Satoru quickly turns around, white hair flying in all directions as the anger turns into surprise, blue eyes comically widen,“Please don’t, sir.”

“Now shake your hands like gentlemen and don’t repeat this same mistake,” Yaga says, smiling sweetly. He was an eccentric man - kinder and gentler to his plants than to most of his faculty and students. The two men reluctantly shake their hands and share a plastic smile, if only to get out of the Dean’s office.

- - - - - -

“Satoru, you were acting so recklessly,” you say, applying an ointment to the bruise on his cheekbone. The brunette Tanya, not discouraged by your wine attack, was sitting right beside your boyfriend, worrying herself. Shoko, your best friend, rolls her eyes, not very fond of Tanya or Satoru.

“Who does this new guy think he is, not respecting you?” Tanya says instead, feeding into his bloated ego. “It’s good that you taught him a lesson,”

Yu agrees, always the loyal sidekick. “That’s right, Satoru, he had no right to steal your parking spot then humiliate you like that. Bloody scholarship brat.”

- - - - -

“Suguru, you’ve earnt us scholarship kids respect,” Nanami, the blond man of a few words says. “The way you handled Satoru, I salute you on behalf of all of us.”

Suguru raises his eyebrow to acknowledge his classmate, but continues going forward, excited to hear Isamu Gojo talk about his success in becoming a raging business tycoon in the country while coming from nothing.

“Where are you going?” Kento asks. “You can’t go to the front, that’s for the trust fund kids. Come here, sit with your bank account.”

“I’ll sit where I want,” Suguru says with that calm confidence typical of him. He sits down right next to Shoko, who sat with her friends - Satoru and his group of the one-percenter kids. All of your eyes flit to him, but he seemingly doesn’t care - or if he does, he is doing a great job not showing it.

You take note of his bangs, and his hair in bun - you’re half jealous of his hair and partly angry at his treatment of your boyfriend, but you also admire his confidence. Turning back to Satoru, you see him staring at bangs guy, eyes full of spite - it seems even worse than your spite towards that bitch Tanya. “Satoru, don’t,” you quietly whisper to him, putting your hand on his. He only gives an annoyed glance, which hurts you more than it should have.

“Good morning boys and girls, I am very delighted to have our first session with a guest speaker, one of the leading business tycoons of the country - Isamu Gojo!” Dean Yaga says, and the whole crowd erupts in cheers and applause. Satoru is quick to plug his ears with his earbuds, loud music already blaring through. “We’re glad that you could join us today, Mr. Gojo.”

“I hope you are having a wonderful term so far, ladies and gentlemen,” Isamu Gojo says. He too is a big, tall man with white hair and light eyes, the resemblance with his son almost uncanny. “I would like to correct you, Masamichi, I’m the leading business tycoon of the country,” he then proceeds to laugh at his own joke, enjoying the way the Dean and the teacher’s smile drops. “See, I’m not one for guiding you to bookish studies, your teachers are enough for that. Your teachers teach you the rules of the world, but keep one thing in mind: it's the winners who make those rules. So keep up your winning spirit and dedication, and play the game to win - not to learn the rules.”

He beams with pride as the crowd roars in applause, as if he just hadn’t insulted the whole faculty body of the school. Satoru too joins the applause, even though he hadn’t heard a word - he didn’t need to, hearing the condescending words all the time back at home. Somehow, he’s even more spiteful of his own father than he is of the bangs guy.

- - - - -

“Suguru Geto,” The coach says, noticing Suguru after classes a couple of days later. Everyone knows Suguru by now - his fight with Satoru Gojo, then his calm confidence in classes, with his pretty face and unique hair is the talk of all cliques. “State Level Track gold-medalist and martial arts expert… Have you ever played football?”

“I have, sir,” Suguru says, smiling politely. 

“Why don’t you come for the tryouts tomorrow?” Coach says. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“I’ll be there, sir.” Suguru promises.

Unsurprisingly, Satoru and his loyal sidekick Haibara are a part of the football team. Kiyotaka is acting as the coach’s assistant - keeping things in order for him. Satoru Gojo’s clique tries so hard to ruin Suguru’s tryouts for the team, attempting to trip him, tackle him, but his graceful movements and power packed kicks are more than enough to defend and dodge himself, all the while managing to score a perfect goal. Satoru’s usually pretty face is creased with frowns and scowls, mood sour at Suguru making it into his team. He’ll be sure to rub the bangs guy in the mud once he is appointed captain, determined to show the coach that the village brat is a bastard.

“Haibara, bring me the keys to the notice board,” Satoru says, a devious plan already forming in his head.

“What are you gonna do with that boss?” Haibara asks.

“Just bring me the keys, Haibara.” Satoru says, annoyed.

- - - - -

Two mornings later, Haibara comes to Satoru with the news that the coach was not happy with Suguru and had ordered him to jog 200 laps of the school ground - which Suguru accepted without a voice of protest. Satoru feels awful for what he’s done - delivering piss to the coach’s house and labelling it as Ganga Jal (our equivalent to holy water) signed under Suguru’s name. He watches as Suguru sends Ichiji off - who was supposed to watch his laps, but continues jogging around the perimeter of the massive St. Teresa ground.

Seeing bangs accept the punishment he deserves changes something in him, it gives him a moment of introspection, of why he was villainising the new guy so much. Sure, bangs had parked in his spot, but the spot was empty when he came. He got selected in the team, but because he was actually good at the game. He was becoming the teachers’ favourite, but that was because he was polite and performed well with just enough confidence. The girls that usually fawned over Satoru and his guitar and his music, were now fawning over Suguru’s voice and bangs, never missing the chance to admire him - but Satoru shouldn’t care - he already has the prettiest girl on campus - you.

After class, the aspiring rockstar swallows the bitter pill and calls after Suguru, “Hey! Hey!” Suguru doesn’t listen, is too engrossed in his book and continues walking. Satoru’s long legs pick up speed, and he’s power walking to catch up. “Oh hello, I’m talking to you, bangs!”

“My name is Suguru, you know?” Suguru says with an annoyed sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, Suguru,” Satoru dismisses, continuing to walk beside Suguru, who bookmarks his spot in the book before turning to him. “I came here to say thanks for yesterday morning. You didn’t have to save us, you know. I could’ve handled the coach pretty easily.”

“I know, I didn’t want to do it at all either,” Suguru says, his voice level.

“Then why did you do it?” Satoru says, his cool-kid facade falling a bit.

“I was trying to act like Mahatma,” Suguru says, upturning the book he was reading. It was a biography of Mahatma Gandhi. “I wanted to know what Gandhi felt like being so idealistic.”

“You’ve got some loose screws, man,” Satoru incredulously says, motioning the loose screws with his large hands.

“I may have some loose screws, but you don’t have any.” Suguru deadpans.

“Very funny,” the white haired man scoffs. “You did listen to my dad, I suppose that is bound to make some impact on you.”

“You know, your dad isn’t crazy, he’s a little crooked,” Suguru says. “Which is a good thing, no one reaches that level of money without being at least a little crooked.”

“Show some respect to Gandhi in your hands, man,” Satoru teases, taking the book from him. “The gods made a silly mistake, you should’ve been my father’s son.”

“Why do you care so much about your father?” Suguru says, taking back the Gandhi biography from him, his thin dark eyebrow raised.

“I don’t care for my father or my mother,”

“You do, you’re seeking validation from them.” Suguru observes. “But it seems like all you get from them is money.”

“Wow, and now you’re an expert in parents’ philosophy, right?” Satoru dodges the accusation that hit just a bit too close.

Suguru looks away, the confident demeanour shaking as he says in a small voice, “I am, now that they’re gone.”

“What do you mean gone, are they on a vacation?” Satoru asks, genuinely confused.

“They’re dead,” Suguru says with an accepting sigh. Satoru stops in his tracks, wanting the earth to swallow him whole in that moment - how could he be so stupid and insensitive? “Quit the dramatics, man, yours are alive.”

“You fucker,” Satoru says, a chuckle escaping him. “You motherfucker,” Suguru smirks, accepting the insincere swearing. Satoru’s blue eyes gleam with laughter and he pats his new friend’s chest and says, “Let’s go to the cafeteria. It’s time for me to meet my girlfriend,”

- - - - - - - 

You’re on your way to the cafeteria, enjoying your conversation with Shoko about the newest phone on the market when your good mood is soured by Tanya strutting in your direction, her hefty handbag seemingly weighing her down. Her friends follow her, but you don’t pay attention to them as Tanya comes to a stop in front of you, her head tilted up to look at you and a qualifier smile on her face.

“Have you heard who became the head cheerleader for this term?” Tanya teases, her annoying smirk never leaving her face. “It's Tanya Israni,” She eggs you on, frustrated by the calm smile on your face. “You must be so upset, because this position is only given to the most popular girl of the school,” 

“I’m so happy for you Tanya,” You cooly say, stepping a little closer to her. “Good for you honestly,” You cheer her on, enjoying the confused look on her face. Shoko snickers behind you, fighting the laughter from her face. “You know, it’s really not my style to take pom-poms in my hands and scream and dance to catch men’s attention. I much prefer it if they notice me and try to catch my attention, you know. So, I’m so happy you got to be the head cheerleader.”

You pat her shoulders and walk away, Shoko hot on your heels. 

At the cafeteria, you’re met with Satoru, your pretty boyfriend, who whips out his guitar and sings a song in your praise, and you eat it all up. It’s been quite a while since you’ve got his attention to himself - with bangs taking up most of his time and energy. You bask in the attention he gives you, eyes not missing bangs and the way his mysterious eyes linger on you as if trying to decipher you.

“All the attention on me suddenly?” You ask Satoru, taunting his last few months of hoeing around. “Are you sick? Or did you finally fix yourself?”

“I’m getting back on track,” He jokes, putting his arms around you.

“Or maybe you just want the world to know that she is still dating you,” Shoko teases. She isn’t a fan of Satoru, but she especially hates him now that he’s started taking you for granted.

“There she is, my competition,” Satoru gently punches Shoko’s shoulder, laughing. “Shoko, did you miss me?”

“In your dreams, Satoru,” Shoko shrugs his hand off, taking a whiff of her cigarette. “Besides, your competition is right here. Suguru, right?”

Suguru nods in acknowledgement as Satoru easily orders Yu around.“Haibara, go get chairs for the girls,” 

“Ah, so you’re Suguru,” You say, raising your brow, scrutinising him.

“You’re saying as if you never noticed me,” He deadpans.

“I only saw you, noticing is totally different,” You say, pushing your hair out of your face. “Anyways, I’ve got to run to class now, Satoru. I’ll see you later.” You kiss his cheek and wave at Suguru then grab Shoko and rush to class. Suguru’s dark eyes follow your figure as you leave, trying to see under your rudeness.

“Don’t even think about it, Suguru,” Satoru warns. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Well, good for you that she’s not my type then,” Suguru says, turning to his friend. “Besides, I have different plans.”

“I don’t care about your plans,” Satoru says, practically radiating with excitement. “I’m just happy that there’s finally someone who can match me.” He then shakes his head and leaves, fixing his glasses on the way out. Haibara returns with the chair, giving an odd look to Suguru, who rolls his eyes and walks away. 

- - - - - - - 

Friendships, breakups, jealousy, parties - all of it was a common occurrence at St. Teresa. But every other weekend, everyone got a reality check - when they went back to their homes.

At the Gojos back in Delhi, Isamu and Akihiko, Satoru’s older brother, were discussing the stock market and the impact of the changing polls on their organisation over dinner, disregarding himself and his mother. Satoru still tries to bond with them, trying to put forth some of his opinions, “Dad, I think-”

“You think?” Isamu taunts. “Since when did that happen?”

“Satoru, leave the thinking to us intellectuals,” Akihiko says. “You focus on your music, that’s what you have talent for, no? I’ll need your help finalising the music for the sangeet function at my wedding, you know. You can think about that. Leave the thinking about the stock market to us.”

Meanwhile at your residence - your mom and her latest husband discuss the gossip of people you couldn’t care less about. How that couple treated your mother, how the woman blatantly ignored her kind words of advice, how she had a horrible taste for the interior of her house - the same old, same old.

“I’m pregnant,” You abruptly say, trying to steer the conversation to some other direction.

“What did you say young lady-” Your mother starts, and your newest step father looks nearly as aghast as you mother.

“I’m kidding,” you say, rolling your eyes with a defeated sigh. “Please continue,”

Back in Dehradun, Suguru sits for dinner with his family - his Chacha, Chachi, cousins and Dadi, mustering up the courage to finally ask for some pocket money for a chemistry project.

“Suguru, everything alright in school?” His uncle asks.

“Yeah, Chachu, everything’s great.” He bites his lip then finally says, “Chachu, actually I needed some money for a chemistry project-”

“Right,” His Chachi intervenes. “Of course, Mr. Ambani, could you please give him some money from your endless bank account?”

His Dadi beats his Chacha to it, saying, “I’ll give you the money,” then she adds. “There’s a little less salt in the food, but okay I’ll manage.”

- - - - - - - -

With Monday, everything is back to normal. There’s a change in the daily life in Saint Teresa now that Satoru and Suguru have become friends, their friendship quickly becoming one of the best the college has ever seen. 

The football team is practising for the yearly match with Saint Lawrence, a match that has been won by their competitors for an unbeatable record of 24 years. Dean Yaga hopes that this will change with this batch, the wonderful players he has got and even more wonderful Coach of theirs.

Coach is in a serious dilemma watching the team practice. Both Satoru and Suguru are brilliant players and would make great captains - but the custom is to have only one captain in the team. Making one captain in favour of another isn’t something he is considering, too much has already happened between the two before they started behaving civilly. 

“Yu Haibara!” Coach calls. “You’re the football team captain for this term.”

Haibara, standing between Suguru and Satoru, is startled at first, then he celebrates with delight. The two friends on either side of him share a smile, accepting their unassigned-assigned co-captaincy of the team.

On the day of the much awaited match, you, Shoko, and Kento take your spot in the bleachers, while Tanya and her cheer squad stand right by the field. Your boys in blue and your opponents in red - the two teams come out of the stands and shake hands before taking positions for the game.

It’s a mess right when it starts - the boys in blue are too defensive, but they are too focused on not letting them score, where they miss the chances to snatch the ball away from them which ultimately led to a goal. Twice before halftime. Standing at an embarrassing 2-0, your side sulks and accepts defeat, ready to lose to Saint Lawrence for the 25th time in a row.

But after the half time, your boys in blue have gone from defensive to offensive, never letting the ball pass to the opposing team in red - keeping the ball to themselves. For a moment the ball goes to the red team, but Satoru is deft to act and snatches the ball away from them with a couple of his antics, not violating any rule of the game. He scores the first goal of the match for the blue team. From the humiliating 2-0 the score was now up to a less embarrassing 2-1. Your side erupted in cheers, and you were perhaps the loudest.

The next goal is just as swift, but this time it's Suguru running with the ball, easily distracting their goalie and scoring a goal. The game is now at a tie of 2-2.

The next time, Yu manages to snag the ball from the red players and then passes the ball to Suguru who keeps two of the red defenders occupied while he pretends to go for the goal and kicks the ball to Satoru whose deft attacks give Saint Teresa the final goal of the match - and the first victory after 25 years. 

The team and the bleachers erupt in cheers, and the new friends and teammates share a hug. They’re jumping on the field, looking at each other with newfound respect and admiration. Suguru’s dark bangs stick to his forehead and Satoru’s white hair drips sweat down to the grass, which he is quick to wipe with the front of his jersey. The girls nearly lose their minds, but his attention is elsewhere.

“Don't kiss me now,” Suguru teases Satoru, yelling over the crowd.

“I won’t even hug you,” Satoru says as he envelopes Suguru in a bear hug, both of them feeling the sheer joy of winning and making their college proud.

Satoru takes Suguru back home to Delhi after their match to celebrate - the lavish mansion with servants at every beck and call leaving a scanning Suguru further steeling his resolve for his success, the only thing he joined Saint Teresa for. Satoru introduces Suguru to his mother, who seems like a meek, kind woman. Suguru holds his hands together in a namaste before her.

“Your father was asking for you, Satoru,” His mother says, wrapping her saree over her free arm.

“Why, is he unwell?” Satoru sarcastically asks, but follows his mother nonetheless, dragging Suguru along.

“Dad this is S-”

“Suguru Geto, I know,” Isamu Gojo shakes his hand as soon as he hangs up the call. “I’ve heard a lot about you, son. You are a popular name among teachers. I hope your determination rubs off on him too.” The way Isamu talks about his own son, his flesh and blood makes Suguru uncomfortable, but as usual he maintains his air of calm confidence.

“Uncle, but today’s victory is all thanks to Satoru, you know.” Suguru says. “If he hadn’t made the goal -”

“Oh really, I didn’t know you were capable of anything outside of playing that damned guitar.” the older white haired man taunts. Satoru grits his teeth, eyes narrowing behind his round sunglasses.

“He doesn’t appreciate it,” Satoru says, voice bitter. “Especially if it’s me,”

“If you want to hear compliments so bad, do something that matters,” Isamu challenges. “Win that Student Of the Year trophy, then we’ll talk.”

“What's the point in winning the trophy, you won't be happy then either,” Satoru says.

“It’s not about me being happy, it’s about ambition,” Isamu says, turning to Suguru, more welcoming of him than his own son. “You tell me, Suguru, would you win the Student of the Year trophy?”

“That trophy is mine sir,” Suguru says with his signature confidence, his voice smooth and even. “Now we just have to wait for it to get home,”

“That’s the spirit,” Isamu says, patting the dark-haired man’s shoulders. “I’m happy to hear that. Maybe some of your influence will rub off on Satoru with time. Now tell me, where do you see yourself in the future?”

“As you,” Suguru says, then seeing the creased brow, he elaborates on their similarities - small town kids growing up with low money, then taking the market by a storm with sheer force of will and strategic decisions. “Maybe even a bigger business tycoon than you.”

“Now this is ambition,” Isamu says, beaming with pride. “I love your confidence, my son. Maybe not everyone wants to play a guitar now.”

“Let’s go Suguru,” He says, eager to leave his golden cage.

(Vele)

Delhi’s buzzing nightlife is where Satoru takes him for their celebration. Even though it’s just the two of them, Suguru feels strange seeing his friend interact with everyone. Of course, he was familiar with the nightlife, but he’s always been there to work, never to enjoy. Satoru with his fluffy white hair and bright blue eyes and charming words is popular among the crowd - both the men and the women. It takes him some time - a couple days - to loosen up and feel the music.

Satoru is pressing up behind a giggly woman, his signature smirk on his lips and his glasses down just enough to tease the pretty colour of his eyes. He easily moves with her, going beyond just casually dancing with her. Suguru is entertaining a girl as well, but he’s not much into it - he isn’t fond of meaningless connections.

In the morning, they get a smoke - Satoru is so different from his night self - zoned out and blue eyes droopy with a longing. “Suguru… do you miss your parents?” he suddenly asks.

Suguru takes a moment to process the question, flashes of his happier times passing in his head. “Hmm, I do,” He says, nodding.

“Me too,” Satoru says, eyes focused on something and nothing at the same time.

Come the night, Satoru is back to his womaniser self - this time having two women splayed over him rather than just one. Suguru’s mind suddenly flashes your pretty face, and he wonders if you’d approve of his behaviour. He’s disgusted by Satoru’s behaviour, how he’s an attentionwhore but is not letting you go either. He might be too poor to understand your setup, he thinks.

The next night, they’re back on campus and the whole school is celebrating at the nearest club - Satoru is again getting cosy with Tanya, not even noticing you. You’re outraged and want to cause a scene, but you don’t. You don’t know what’s gotten into him in the past year, why he’s been going out and letting women get so close to him. Why did he need this much attention? Why couldn’t you leave him? You go to the bar, and to your surprise, Bangs is the one to notice your sulking self and he gets you shot. The two of you down the bitter drink, and he flashes his. And for some reason, you find yourself smiling even when he’s gone.

The next weekend, Suguru and Satoru are back in Delhi, smoking at their usual spot when Suguru finally asks him, “Do you love her?”

“I’m a little confused,” Satoru admits, looking down.

“About her?” Suguru asks, brow creased.

“About love,” Satoru admits, looking down at his phone.

“Are you gay?” Suguru asks incredulously.

Satoru chuckles, pulling Suguru close with his shirt. “Yeah, I am come here,”

“Oi, shut up!” Suguru smacks him away, laughing.

By the night, Satoru is too drunk, and Suguru drives the blue Ferrari back to the lavish Gojo house, picks up his drunk friend and drops him on his bed. Satoru mumbles at him to stay the night. Suguru too is exhausted, and he’s out like a lightbulb almost as soon as he drops to the bed. In the morning, the loud blaring of an electric guitar in an unfamiliar but upbeat tune wakes him up. Suguru goes to the balcony and sees the Gojo family, minus Satoru having breakfast and decides to join them.

“Good morning Uncle, Good morning Aunty,” Suguru greets them. “We got late last night so Satoru asked me to stay,”

“That’s alright my son, come sit with us.” Isamu says, motioning to the empty chair. “You’re listening to what we have to put up with every morning? Our little maestro is practising,”

“I was thinking I'd ask him for music recommendations for my sangeet but listening to this, I was terribly wrong.” Akihiko says. “It’s just noise.”

“Yeah, son, Akihiko is getting married, you should join us.” Isamu says. “Yu, Yaga, Coach, Tanya and the girl who is too good for Satoru, they're all coming.”

“Satoru didn’t say anything about-” Suguru reluctantly says.

“Yeah, he isn’t invited yet,” Isamu and his oldest laugh at his joke. “No need to worry about tickets and stay, we’ll go via our jet and there’s accommodation for everyone, my son.”

“Thank you, sir.” Suguru says, his smile reserved. He cannot fathom why Isamu antagonises his own flesh and blood this much. Satoru arrives as Isamu and Akihiko leave, and they don’t leave without a taunt. “Mr. Gojo just invited me to your brother’s wedding,” Suguru says, taking a sip of the orange juice as Satoru sits down next to him.

“Wow, maybe he’ll write your name in his will too,” Satoru says, rolling his eyes.

“That’s the plan,” Suguru teases.

“Remember, the dad comes with the property,” Satoru warns, mocking his father.

“With a bank balance like that I’ll handle everyone,” Suguru jokes, and Satoru just shakes his head, unaware of his own privilege.

- - - - - - 

The wedding party lands in Thailand with much pomp - the first day they only relax and enjoy Thailand. Your mood is sour again - Satoru spent the whole flight flirting with Tanya and enjoying her advances, letting her touch him in ways that only you should be able to. On top of that Shoko wasn’t there, and now you had to spend the entire weekend with this.

When you land, Tanya starts enquiring about the luggage, to which you say, “Didn’t all of your clothes fit in your handbag?” and Satoru has the nerve to get mad at you - telling you that you should mind your tongue.

“Welcome to Thailand,” Bangs says, when he crosses you.

Later, you go to the resort’s beach, hoping to finally get some time with Satoru - only to see him lying on Tanya’s lap as she smothers his chest in sunscreen. Your sour mood turns bitter, and you go back to your room, eyes threatening to spill. But you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Was it so easy for him to let loose after four years of being your boyfriend? Was he no longer attracted to you? You ponder with the thought of leaving him, but you don’t want to give him up - you love him, you think, and you don’t want your four years to go to waste.

Unbeknownst to you, bangs was feeling similar towards Satoru’s dismissal of you - seriously questioning his friend as to why he was even looking at other girls with you by his side. If it were up to Suguru and he had a girlfriend as amazing and pretty as you, he wouldn’t even look at other women.

The next morning, you see Satoru with Tanya - whose shrill voice is just a pitch lower than a moan. She’s massaging his back and letting out sounds which can only be described as ones of pleasure. You know about pleasure, of course - but you don’t sound that obnoxious.

“Should I massage your neck, while she massages your back?” You ask Satoru, voice sickly sweet. He takes off his glasses, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance and pushes his fluffy hair away from his face before acknowledging you. Tanya’s hands get more lecherous, a smirk on her face as her dark eyes meet yours.

“What do you mean?” Satoru asks, sounding almost mad at you.

You don’t back down, saying, “I thought you were too fond of massages,” motioning to the way he was sitting in front of Tanya.

“I’m only helping Satoru release his tension, he’s always so stressed.” Tanya says, her voice artificially shrill and concerned. “See, his back has so many knots.”

“Why don’t you open a massage stall then? Everyone in Bangkok would come to you to release their stress.” You snap at her, the dam breaking.

“That’s enough! Why are you acting so insecure?” Satoru has the audacity to get mad at you, looking down at you with such annoyance that you actually start thinking that you’ve done something wrong. “I’m only chilling with my friends, no? What’s so wrong with that?”

The damn holding your tears back breaks, “There’s nothing wrong, absolutely nothing,” your voice breaks and you rush away, tears spilling.

You stand by an isolated spot, away from everyone’s eyes, letting your tears flow freely. Why is everything going wrong between you and Satoru? Did he not love you anymore? Did he ever love you? You can hear Shoko’s voice, telling you to leave him, that you deserve someone so much better than him. If he does all of that in front of you, what’s to say what he does behind your back? She had said.

Suddenly, Bangs is standing beside you, and you’re quick to wipe away your tears. You don’t want to see Satoru’s sidekick come and lecture you - you’ve had enough of that from Haibara, and you don’t want to hear the same thing from bangs. “So typical of Satoru,” You say, voice nasal from all the crying. “He can’t come face me himself, so he sends his sidekick to wipe my tears.”

“Firstly, I’m no one’s sidekick,” Bangs says, handing you a white handkerchief. It has a small back embroidery of his initials. “Secondly, I’m not here to wipe your tears, you’ve got a runny nose.” You take the white muslin cloth and quickly wipe your nose. “You’re the classy type, it doesn’t suit you.” For a moment you think that he’s talking about Satoru, but you’re quick to dismiss the thought. “Now that I’m here, do you want to tell me what’s happening or sing a lovely song for me?”

You don't look at him, focusing your teary gaze on a random spot in the distance. “I’m so fed up with Satoru,” You hate the way your voice sounds nasal, giving away just how much everything was affecting you. You felt weak and exposed, but for some reason you felt you wouldn’t get judgement from Bangs. “I’ve known him for 10 years, been dating him for 4, and from the past year it feels like all of this is a big mistake.”

“Then why not leave him?” Bangs gently suggests, but it sounds more like a genuine question and not a statement.

“I don’t like breaking relationships,” You admit.

“Then do something to get him on the right path,” He says, and you finally look at him, noticing him for the first time.

“How so?” You ask, brow raised.

“Maybe take a wrong path yourself,” He shrugs, the sun hits his shades and bangs perfectly, and you can see the violet of his eyes from this close under the sun. You cross your arms over your chest, a devious plan forming in your head with Suguru’s pretty face in your mind.

(Radha)

In the evening, you decide to take the stage and perform to the song, having coordinated with the music set up and the bride and groom. Akihiko was way too excited to see his brother get put in his place, agreeing to your idea immediately. Everything is a deliberate plan - from your pink blouse to your lehenga skirt and the way it hugs your figure in the most flattering of ways you feel and look hot.

Satoru and Tanya stand in the audience as the music starts to play, stopping the hushed whispers exchanging. Her back is still pressed against his chest, enjoying the warmth he offers. For a change, Satoru has ditched his glasses and is adorning a fancy golden kurta, the colour flattering his pale complexion and white hair. Tanya too is dressed in a sexy golden saree - and they look too much like a couple for your taste. That makes your resolve all the more strong.

Satoru watches with a crease between his white brows seeing a familiar figure on the stage, but her face is veiled by the dupatta, the lighting just dim enough to make the face of the girl a mystery. The music starts to play and when the dupatta veil falls after a few steps to reveal your pretty face - Satoru is stunned. You’re too sexy, all for him to admire. He covers his face, part astonished, part embarrassed. Tanya grits her teeth, but smiles along when Satoru tells her how pretty you look. Suguru on the other hand, dressed in a lovely navy kurta that compliments his dark hair and pretty eyes, raises his hands and cheers you on.

Much to Satoru’s surprise while dancing to the music, instead of coming to him in the crowd, you go to Suguru. An indescribable feeling climbs up his throat at the sight of you dancing and enjoying with his best friend - your steps complimenting each other so well. Tanya tries to distract him, and for a while he is distracted. Until he sees you again - you’re coming toward him so he pushes Tanya out of your way - but you only push him in a mix of playfulness and annoyance and return to Suguru. 

Satoru, being the rockstar that he is, easily catches the beat of the music and is able to keep up with your practised steps, trying to get closer to you.

For a moment, the three of you are dancing together, but you lean more toward your boyfriend’s best friend - disregarding him as he has been disregarding you. Somewhere with the music, your Dean Yaga takes up the Dafli and surprises everyone with how well he plays the instrument. You, Satoru and Suguru join him on the stage, and Yaga turns into a blushing mess with all the compliments. 

Suguru is surprised to have you dancing this close to him, even with your dance performance over and the DJ being open for everyone. He pushes you away when you get a bit too close, for perfume all up in his nose and your pretty, decorated eyes looking up at him with such affection. He grabs your shoulders and pushes you back a little when you get too close again - worried about all the eyes on him and you - he doesn’t want to cause a scene. He can feel Satoru’s burning gaze on the two of you and he does not like that.

When you get too close a couple more times, he’s finally had enough and grabs your arm to take you away from the crowd, brows creased and a scowl on his face. Suguru doesn’t like this spark that ignites inside him with your pretty face and sweet voice and lovely outfit. He shouldn’t feel this way about you - you’re his best friend’s girlfriend, after all.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His yell isn’t loud, but his voice is scolding.

But the playfulness doesn’t leave your eyes, and you look at him as if he should be in on some secret that he isn’t in on. “You only said to take the wrong path,” you say, a teasing smile on your lips, enjoying the frustrated expression on his usually stoic confident face. “What’s a better wrong path than you?”

“Don’t be stupid, girl,” He scoffs. “Satoru is my best friend,”

“That’s why you’re perfect.” You explain, and your pretty eyes are such a tease, Suguru thinks. “You’re helping your friend by saving his relationship, and I know you won’t try to take advantage of me. Maybe we’ll also become friends by this. It’s not a bad thing, you see. Right?” You put your hands on his crossed arms, your bangles clinking as you try to shake him into agreement

His purple eyes gaze at you for a long moment, and you pretend to fix your bangles, feeling flustered under his steady gaze. You didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself if he refused your offer.

“You’re not as stupid as you seem,” Suguru has a rare, genuine smile on his face, calm, steady voice returning. “So… What’s the plan?”

You look up at him with a child-like smirk, twirling your dupatta between your fingers. “Now we’re talking,” you say, then you drag him away.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru’s eyes have been following the two of you and he didn’t know he was capable of feeling such jealousy - until he saw you with Suguru - perhaps the only man who can compare to him. He cannot hear the words you exchanged, but the ways you looked at each other spoke louder to him than any words ever could. Have you ever looked at him like that? Like the way you teasingly looked up at Suguru, batting your pretty eyes at him?

The next morning, Satoru is lying in the sun on the beach, with Tanya sitting behind him, lotion in her hand. He sat up straight on seeing you, eyes peeled and sunglasses off - you’re so hot in a yellow and honey coloured bikini - hair wet from the time you had spent in the water. The sun makes your skin glow like the goddess that you are, trying not to laugh at the way your boyfriend’s jaw has dropped, the girl sitting behind him long forgotten. Satoru half raises his hands, wanting you to sit with him. It’s comical the way both their heads turn when you go past him to Suguru, who was casually laying in the sun, shades on his eyes and reading a business magazine.

“May I sit here?” You ask the pretty guy with the bangs, voice deliberately sultry.

“Yeah, sure,” He says, putting down the magazine and sitting up to make space for you behind him. Satoru and Tanya have extremely confused expressions plastered on their faces, and Satoru looks like a kicked puppy his blue eyes narrowed and lips pouty that you almost let up the act. Almost.

You sit behind him, sure to make your curves stand out just a bit more, fixing your hair to one side. You let out a small gasp, touching Suguru’s toned shoulders over his shirt. “Oh dear, you seem so stressed,” you say in the same sultry voice. “May I help in releasing all this tension of yours?”

“Please,” Suguru says with a sigh, head turned away from Satoru but towards you. You try to ignore the way his voice affects you. But can’t really blame yourself - his already nice voice is now deliberately sinful. You pull his open shirt off his shoulders, admiring his back. You don’t need to pretend to fawn over him, a realisation that disturbs you more than it should.

Taking some lotion in your hand, you begin massaging his back, both of you playing the part well of making noises that sound much like sounds of pleasure - it’s funny the way Satoru suddenly straightens up and Tanya tries to mimic you, trying to get Satoru to make noises similar to the one Suguru was making. The man in front of you sounds incredibly sexy, even if it was just pretend. Your brain begins a thought - if this is how good he sounds when pretending, how much nicer he’d sound with the real - but you stub it before the thought completes.

When Satoru doesn’t make any noises, too focused on the way you’re touching his best friend - the pretty hands that should be touching him instead - Tanya asks him to make some noise, in order to assert some sense of dominance. Satoru lets out a funny noise of complaint, throws his sunglasses in the sand and stalks away.

The two of you giggle and share a high-five, watching the squirming Satoru rush away from you. Your plan was working perfectly.

Later in the evening, you enjoy a stroll on the beach with Suguru, his silky hair down for a change, the wind making it flow in a graceful dance. You’ve never wanted to touch someone's hair this bad ever before, so you reach out and do - his hair is softer than any fabric you’ve ever touched. Suguru gives you a small smile.

He’s mesmerised by the way your eyes soften, the moonlight making you glow. He’s unaware of everything except you, of how your eyes are looking at him kindly, of how you mentioned having a rough relationship with your mother and never knowing your father, of telling you about the time his parent’s car had crashed, taking them away from him.

“He’s gone,” you whisper, and he’s pulled out the trance your eyes had put him in. “You’re such a nice actor Suguru,” you say, a cheery smile returning to your face. “Let’s go back in now before it gets too dark.”

The next morning, Suguru sips his champagne and watches you with a heavy heart, you look so pretty in your white and gold lehenga, dancing to the music with the mehendi drying on your hands. He’s admiring you from afar - seeing as you spot Satoru and make a sour face at him, then turning around to see him with a bright smile on your face. You mouth to him if she looks okay, and he mouths back that you look fantastic, doing the okay gesture with his fingers and grinning. You’ve accidentally matched - the yellows and oranges of your lehenga matching his kurta. Your focus is diverted back to the music, and your dance is graceful.

“Oi, why are you acting like Romeo all of a sudden?” Satoru says, rolling the sleeves of his light blue kurta, seemingly squaring up. “I’ve been seeing this for two days now. What happened to her not being your type?”

“Well, she is now,” Suguru says, taking a sip from his glass.

“Stay away from her,” Satoru says, brow creased and lips pressed in distaste. 

“And why would I do that?” Suguru challenges, raising a brow.

“She’s my girlfriend-” the white haired man says, blue eyes wide with rage.

“Since when?” Suguru asks, steadily holding his gaze.

“Don’t play with me Suguru,” Satoru says, ready to snap. “I’m being serious,”

“You? Serious?” Suguru notes. “Satoru, your whole problem is that you aren’t serious. You don’t have the time to be serious.”

“What-” Satoru stammers.

“Meaning that - when was the last time you held her hand? Hugged her? Looked into her eyes and spoke to her? Told her that you love her?” Suguru fires the questions straight at his best friend.

“Who even -” Satoru gets defensive all of a sudden.

“Stop acting like a cool dude.” Suguru asserts. Then, with a smirk on his face, he teases, “Seeing her with me made you jealous, right? You were scared, right?” Satoru can only nod, hiding his eyes with his fluffy hair.

“Good, because that was our scheme to bring you back to the right track.” Suguru finally confesses, seeing his disheartened best friend.

“What do you mean scheme,” He began. “You and -”

“Yeah,” Suguru nods. “You aren’t going to find a girl like her, man. I mean just look at her, she is beautiful.” His voice turns softer, serene, “The way she laughs, the way she dramatises things, names fashion designers on little things. She has the brains, the anger, but she has the right too. She lacks love and affection, she wants love. She isn’t too clever, maybe that is why she is in love with you.”

Satoru is truly stupefied by his friend’s assessment of you. “You’re so sweet, Suguru,” he teases, playfulness back in his crystal blue eyes. “You did a PhD on her just to put some sense into me.”

Suguru puts his hands on his friend’s shoulders, encouraging him, “Okay, now go and be nice to her. If you let her go, I’ll catch her.”

Satoru elbows him, saying, “If you do that, I’ll kill you.” He steps away, but a thought bothers him, “Are you sure you dont like her?”

“Her?” Suguru teases. “It’s you-”

Satoru smacks his shoulder, but then pulls him into a hug. He’s so grateful to have a friend like Suguru, how he showed him what he was doing wrong.

The sound of your name from Satoru’s smart mouth has you turning around, and he takes that opportunity to finally wrap his arms around you, muttering, “I’m really sorry baby,”

“Shhh,” you hush him. “It’s said that hiding your boyfriend’s name in your mehendi, if he finds it then it may be a love to last different lifetimes,”

He takes your hand, his blue eyes full of adoration, “Shall I try?”

“Yes,” You snarkily say, taking Tanya’s hand and handing it to him.

And finally he ignores her in favour of you, muttering your name like an apology. You’re not yet done testing him, so you wipe the wet mehendi on his face, smearing his porcelain skin a dark muddy colour.

In the evening, during the wedding ceremony, as the bride enters with her brothers and uncles, you rush - the stubborn jhumki not locking properly. You hastily motion for two more minutes to the other bridesmaids, running and trying to put the jhumki on your right ear at the same time. Fortunately you see Suguru, and show him the state of your jhumki, unable to keep the smile off your face. He thinks you’re adorable like this, annoyed at a stubborn piece of jewellery.

Suguru takes the jhumki from your hand, instead styling your hair in a manner to keep the missing earring hidden. His purple eyes are so expressive in their appreciation of your yellow-gold outfit and makeup - it makes you feel so beautiful. His large hands are gentle on your hair and it comes as no surprise that he was so good at styling your hair. 

You join the bridal party quickly, spotting Satoru, who makes a gesture of heat on seeing you, you return his gesture - but with a throwing-up one. He laughs, but the smile disappears once he sees his father hug his older brother, so full of pride that he’s never seen.

Tanya is quick to snatch the silver tray of rose petals in your hands, and you laugh, running your hands through your hair only to feel your absent jhumki, suddenly remembering Suguru. You turn around, trying to find him, only to see him already looking at you, a pretty smile on his pretty face. You motion him to come closer to the mandap, and when he refuses, you walk over to him and grab a hold of his arm, wanting him to stay close to you. He still refuses, but he has a smile on his face, a smile worth swooning over, you note.

A heavy hand settles on your shoulder, and Satoru’s blue eyes sparkle with a smile as they take you in, wanting you to stay with him. You refuse him at first, not wanting to leave Suguru behind, but when his bangs move as he shakes his head, allowing you to go, you let up in your attempts to get him. Satoru takes you right out of his hands, taking you close to the mandap and sitting behind the bride and the groom.

He has a quiet laugh on his face when you make a face at him, and you cannot recall the last time he had been this nice to you. Pushing that thought behind, you look at the rituals, when Satoru elbows you, telling you without words that soon you’ll be in place of his brother and sister in law. You’re quick to dismiss him, too quick, smacking his hand off yours.

- - - - - - - -

After the wedding weekend, Suguru has become a little more distant, only speaking when spoken to. 

Shoko is on her way to class when she sees Suguru’s usually inexpressive eyes filled with a deep longing, only to see you and Satoru in his line of sight. You still hadn’t gotten the time to catch her up to speed, but she cannot mistake the softness of his eyes. You’re sitting on Satoru’s lap, with him making you giggle over something, his white hair all up in your face.

“Hey,” She says, walking up to you and Satoru. You say a cheerful hi, a beaming smile on your face.

“Your boyfriend’s here, baby,” Satoru teases. He gently punches her shoulder, saying, “Hey handsome,”

“Can we do this later?” Shoko asserts. “Come with me,” She tells you. You kiss Satoru’s cheek before getting up and walking out of his earshot with your best friend, curious about what was bothering her.

The sound of your name has your attention, and she begins, “Look, I don’t know what happened between you guys this weekend,” she pauses, looking into your eyes. “But I just saw Suguru, and I think that he likes you,”

“Suguru? Are you mad?” You dismiss her concern with a small shake of your head. “Satoru and I are now stable because of his help,”

“He was staring at you girl,” She says. “Only one-sided lovers look at other people like that,”

“You were also staring at him,” You tease, bumping against her shoulder with a chuckle. “Sorry, you were observing him,”

“Don’t try to act so smart now,” She says, a frown on her face. “I just let you know what I saw, the rest is your choice.” Shoko walks away, leaving you staring at her brown bob.

You think over her words for a moment, and your feet involuntarily take you to Suguru. He was easy to spot in the crowd - his tall stature and his dark bun gave him away easily.

“Good morning, Suguru,” You say, trying to be cheerful.

“Morning,” He acknowledges you, voice back to his indifferent confidence. He’s quickly turning around, not waiting for you.

“Listen!” You call, and he turns to you. “I just wanted to thank you once again…”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” He says, quickly turning away once again.

“Suguru…” You say his name, fiddling with your fingers. You don’t know why you feel this nervous. He wouldn’t be the first guy to like you, but then why was your heart beating so furiously, why was your face burning. “Is everything fine? Like between the two of us?”

“No, nothing is fine,” Suguru says, fully turning to you. His cold indifference hurts you more than you’d like to admit. It hurts in a way different from Satoru’s indifference. His indifference makes you mad, but Suguru’s detached voice makes you sad. You don’t know if it's a good thing or a bad one.

You suddenly feel the need to explain yourself for some reason, words coming out with a stammer, which was unlike yourself. “Suguru, I love Satoru,”

“I know,” He says, his voice even. “Are you telling that to me or yourself?” Your taken aback by his question, but before you can answer, he adds, “I came to Saint Teresa with one thing in mind - to make a better future for myself and win that Student of the Year trophy… got distracted for a bit, but now I see my goal crystal clear, and no one can come between me and the trophy now.”

The Competition

Dean officially announces the SOTY competition open: four phases and eight finalists and one winner. Starting from the aptitude exam, to the treasure hunt, the dance competition and the final triathlon - the competition is meant to judge the students on all grounds, and only the one who is the best at everything wins.

Everyone is spending their every waking minute preparing for the aptitude assessment in their own way - hiding the fact that they are studying from their friends. You pretend to read Vogue instead of your textbooks, Shoko pretends to sleep but holds up a torch in her comforter to read. Nanami stacks books on top of books, the ever studious man of the school. Satoru pretends to compose music but he’s actually going through his statistics notes, with you helping him with his coffee and providing motivation to each other to study. Suguru has grown a little more detached from your circle, but he doesn’t hide the fact that he is preparing for the exam. Tanya is spending her time preparing - to cheat, that is, making her settings with the nerds. Haibara tries to mug everything up, but finally gives up and starts focusing on his prayers instead.

Come the time of the result announcement - all of you make it to the top sixteen, moving on to the next round -  the treasure hunt. To everyone’s surprise - Tanya makes it into the top 16, with the 16th position, Satoru makes it to the 10th spot, you make it to the 6th, Shoko makes it to the 4th, Suguru to the 3rd, Nanami to the 2nd. But to everyone - even Dean Yaga who was announcing the result, he had to take his glasses off and read correctly - it was Yu Haibara of all people that got the 1st position. Nanami nearly lost his mind, with Ichiji having held the blond man back to stop him from attacking Yu right there.

Once the gang's all outside, Kento grabs Haibara by the collar of his blazer and demands, “How the fuck did you get first?” 

“I don’t know, I just said Jai Mata Di and marked all the answers,” Haibara says.

“Nanami, stop being such a drama queen,” Satoru complains. “All that matters is that all of us are in the top 16 now. What does it matter who wins or loses?”

“It matters,” Suguru says, volunteering in a conversation involving someone other than Satoru for the first time in days. “We have big intentions, and you have an affluent dad. You can easily join any university per your choice… We don’t have that privilege.”

“You’re after my dad so much,” Satoru says, making gestures with his hands. “Please take my dad and give me your intentions instead.”

Suguru just shakes his head at that, but Tanya intervenes with her sultry voice, “If you want my intentions,” she twirls her hair. “I’ll happily give them to you.”

You can feel Satoru’s hand raise, but you push it down by his shoulder, yet he still manages to blow a kiss in her direction. “The entire college knows of your intentions, Tanya,” You say, pushing down your boyfriend’s hand which blows a kiss at her yet again despite your efforts. “We’re drifting off topic here. We were talking about the competition and I believe there shouldn’t be any competition among friends. Right, Shoko?”

“Right…” Shoko says. “That’s why you were hiding when you were studying?” Satoru pushes you away, but you still hold his arm. Shoko continues, “Come on guys, if our goal is the same, there will be a competition,”

Satoru makes a pouty face, hissing to tease her,“Shoko, does that mean to win the competition yourself, you’ll make your best friend face defeat?”

“Yes,” Suguru says without hesitation, and all heads turn to him. “Perhaps,”

“He’s kidding,” Satoru chuckles, but Suguru doesn’t add to that, turning the pages of his book instead.

A couple days later, the top 16 after the aptitude test got to the fun part - the treasure hunt involving the entire campus. Four teams of four members each.

Suguru, Haibara, you were in one team, Team A; Satoru, Nanami, Shoko and Tanya in Team B and the rest were divided into two other teams. Taking their first clue, the teams rushed to solve the riddle to get to their respective locations. 

Suguru opened the clue card, reading out the riddle: Neela Asmaan Upar bhi Neela Asman Neeche bhi, paana hai jawab, toh gehrayi me jaao janab. (Blue sky above, blue sky below too, If you want to get the answer, then go deep sir.)

Haibara whines on hearing the riddle, snatching the envelope and scanning it as if to see any answer that maye have been hidden. “Yaar, what does this clue even mean? How can there be a sky up and sky below too? The first clue itself has our hopes running in the water,”

“Haibara, you’re a genius!” Suguru says, grabbing the brunet’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Really?” Haibara beams, before Suguru yells, “No!” leaving him confused. Suguru takes off, leaving the three of you to chase him with your shorter legs.

Meanwhile, Satoru opened Team B’s first clue and read out the riddle: Atit ki muskaan hai ajit ki pyaari, Nazron se peechha kare, adbhut hai ye naari. (The smile of the past is Ajit's beloved, follows you with her eyes, this woman is amazing.)

“Who’s this Ajit?” Nanami asks. frowning. “Any faculty member?”

“No, it’s not a faculty member,” Satoru says, thinking hard. 

“I only know one Ajit (Ajit Khan),” Nanami says, and Satoru catches up. The both of them simultaneously say, “Mona darling, sona kahan hai?” (Mona darling, where’s the gold? - an iconic dialogue)

“Anywhere,” Tanya says in her sultry voice, playing with her hair. She’s just happy to be part of Satoru’s team.

“That’s it!” Shoko screams. “It’s the Mona Lisa!” and the four of them take off running to find the room with the Mona Lisa.

In the meantime, Suguru reaches the swimming pool, where you, Haibara and your fourth teammate frown, when Suguru recites the riddle again and deciphers it to be the swimming pool. He’s quickly taken off his shoes, socks and t-shirt and jumps into the pool, finding the next clue at the bottom.

You open the clue as Suguru puts his shirt and shoes back on. The clue reads: Ped bhi hu aur nahi bhi, baat karo toh sunu bhi, khoobsurat hu aisi mai, ke baat kare guru bhi (I am a tree and I’m not, if you talk then I listen, I’m so beautiful, that the teacher also talks to me)

“Tree, the plantations?” Haibara suggests and the four team members rush from the swimming pool to the plantations.

Team B finds Mona Lisa in the assembly hall, a brick with her hair holding the clue. Even Satoru has to jump to fetch that clue. The second riddle read: Farishte ne gaaye zindagi ke geet, asmaan se aayega unka mit, sade nau baje unka milan, jawab degi suraj ki kiran. (The angels sang the songs of life, their friends would come from the sky, meeting at nine thirty, the sun's beam would answer.) 

“Where will we get angels?” Tanya dumbly asks.

Satoru leans close to her, and says in an annoyed voice, “In the canteen,”

“Really?” Tanya says, seemingly believing him.

The answer suddenly strikes Satoru, and he yells out, “The Church, the Church! We have only five minutes to nine-thirty, run!”

It’s hard for Shoko and Tanya to keep up with Satoru and Nanami’s long legs, but they somehow manage. They reach the church just in time - and the sun beam is falling on the Hymn Book of the choir. Satoru is quick to snatch the clue out of the book, and reads: aakhri padav aakhri mystery, kitni majboot hai aapki chemistry (Last stop, last mystery, how strong is your chemistry)

“Let’s go, chemistry lab!” Satoru yells, and Team B rushes away.

“Wait, wait!” You yell, stopping your teammates. “It said tree so we rushed here, but there is no guru visible!”

“Yaar are we looking for this guru or the plant?” Haibara asks.

“We’re looking for the clue,” Suguru deadpans.

“I’m telling you this is not working,” You pant out.

“If you have any other bright idea why don’t you share it with the class?” Suguru says, annoyed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You snap.

“Yeah, man, leave bhabhi alone,” Haibara says, at which Suguru snaps even worse than he did at you. “Abey! Bhabhi hogi teri.” (idk how to write this in english)

“Who is the guru on this campus?” You ask, catching your breath.

“Waheguru?” Haibara prompts.

“We don’t have a Gurdwara on campus, Yu!” You say, frustrated.

“Well, there should be one!” Haibara protests.

“Take that up with Yaga!” Suguru says.

“That’s it!” You jump, clasping your hands as if releasing them would take your answer away. “The guru is Yaga! He’s famous for talking to his bonsai plant!” Then you all rush off to Dean Yaga’s office, finally finding your third clue. You snap the envelope open as Suguru lifts up the bonsai plant, and quickly start reading out loud: aazad hindustan ki peheli awaaz, khamosh kamra batayega yeh raaz. (The first voice of independent India, a silent room will tell this secret.)

“The silent room! It’s the library,” Suguru yells and all of you run to the library.

“Nanami, fast, grab the envelope!” Shoko yells. Satoru beats him to it, opening it only to find a blank envelope.

“What man, Nanami, it's blank!” Satoru gets frustrated and shoves the envelope to Nanami.

“I’m sorry on behalf of the organisers!” Nanami snaps back.

Shoko snatches the envelope from Nanami, shushing the two idiots up. “Let me think,” she says.

“Now what exactly are we looking for?” Haibara asks once you are in the library.

“Independent India's first voice…” you mumble trying to recall your history lesson. “It was Nehru,” you remember. 

“Tryst with destiny!” Suguru suddenly remembers, and the four of you rush to the history section.

“You were right, Shoko!” Nanami says, rubbing the ammonia solution on the black envelope. “The ammonia makes the ink visible!”

“Okay okay, now what does it say?” Shoko asks, jumping with excitement.

The final clue is same for everyone, the riddle saying: khush toh bohot hoge tum ki yeh hai aakhri padav, savere waali ghanti se paar hoga yeh chadav, dhyaan se padhna isko aur dena apna sujhav, kyunki upar waale alfaz karenge jeet ka chunav. (You will be very happy that this is your last stop, this climb will be crossed by the morning bell, read this carefully and give your suggestion, because the above words will choose the victor.)

“The morning bell?” Haibara mutters. “Our period bell?”

Team A runs from the library, climbing up the stairs to try and reach the period bell. On their way, they spot Team B, already higher up in the floors, closer to the period bell of the school. Suguru, Haibara and you find the step ladder and pull it near to the bell, and Haibara quickly climbs up the ladder as you and Suguru hold on to it for stability. Meanwhile, Nanami has taken to walking on the roof instead of taking the normal path, surprising everyone.

Soon it’s a race between Nanami and Haibara, and Haibara wins, striking the bell first. Just then, Ichiji comes and yells, “It's the wrong answer!”

“Oh! Oh! It’s the bell tower!” You yell, excited as you realise the answer. Suguru tries to shush you, but you yell again, “It’s the bell tower!”

“Thanks, bestie!” Shoko yells from above, and the next chase is between you and her, and she is faster. From the lecture building to the bell tower it’s a hard chase, and you’re already too out of breath, so Shoko manages to climb the stairs more swifty than you can. You reach the top just as Shoko rings the bell, only to be told that this answer is wrong as well.

Both your teams have gathered back in the ground, with all eight minds thinking over the riddle over and over. Aaj khush toh bohot hoge tum, Suguru and Satoru seemingly share a brain cell and think of the iconic dialogue of the movie Deewaar. In the scene of the dialogue, Amitabh Bacchan’s character can be seen ranting to the goddess in a temple.

They both look at each other, spelling out a swear word and sprint off to the in campus temple. They are both fast, but Satoru has an upper hand of not having his drenched pants weighing him down. It’s an intense run down between two best friends having a fun rivalry - running to win rather than to defeat. Satoru takes a head start, but Suguru’s track medals have not been in vain and he manages to outrun Satoru and hit the bell just a moment earlier than Satoru, falling to his knees on the white marble of the goddess Saraswati’s temple, both of them bursting out in laughter and sharing a high five.

After Dean Yaga congratulates Team A and praises Team B’s performance, Satoru puts his hand on Suguru’s shoulder and pats his chest. “Let’s go celebrate, you win, Suguru,” He says, peeking up at him from behind his glasses. “I want to go home with you?”

“Why do you want to go home with me?” Suguru asks, raising his eyebrow.

“I am craving some home-made food,” Satoru says. “Come on, please,”

“You don’t have food at your house?” Suguru teases.

“I’m bored of my home’s room service,” Satoru replies.

Suguru shakes his head, patting Satoru’s shoulder, “Let’s go,”

“The food is fab, Dadi, it’s fab!” Satoru says, quickly gulping down a spoonful of the rajma and rice.

“You should come more often then, son,” Dadi says, a cheerful smile on her old face. She looks amazing for her age - most of her hair is still black and her eyes hold a youthful charm with the wisdom that comes as one ages.

“I had to invite myself, even today,” Satoru chuckles. “Do you know - your grandson isn’t normal. Did he fall as a baby?” Dadi laughs at that, but Suguru’s Chachi makes a sour face. 

“Aye, shut up and eat your food,” Suguru says in his deadpan voice.

“Suguru, that is not the way to speak to guests,” His Chachi chides. She turns to Satoru, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Satoru, son - Can I call you son?” Satoru nods with a spoonful in his mouth. “You look much more charming and handsome in real life than you look in those Page 3 photos,”

Suguru and Dadi share a glance, stifling their laughter at Chachi’s comment. “Save some butter for the chapatis, Geeta.” Dadi scorns.

“Butter is expensive, Mother,” Chachi sneers. “We only have words to work with in this house,”

“We’re shareholders in your dad’s company, Satoru,” His Chacha says, trying to dissolve the tension. “Suguru, you must take some tips of the stock market from him and share it with me,” he chuckles. “Let us benefit from your friendship,”

“I’ll make use of his friendship,” Suguru says with a smile, holding Satoru’s gaze. It is a smile shared between friends, meaning unknown to others. “I’ll use him to my benefit so much that I’ll leave him behind,”

“Of course, you should buy the Taj Mahal,” Chachi snaps, her voice ringing in everyone’s ears. “Dreams don’t need any money,”

“Dreams are for duffers like me,” Satoru suddenly says, unable to stand the way Suguru’s Chachi speaks to him. “Suguru is a blue-chip investment. He will make you guys millionaires. You’ll see,”

Suguru’s dark eyes are filled with such adoration and respect for Satoru - for he has never had a friend believe in him this much. His support meant the world to Suguru, and he thinks that maybe letting people get close to him isn’t too bad.

He walks Satoru to the door, calling after him before he manages to get to his blue Ferrari. “What you said in front of Chachi, it felt nice,” Suguru says in a small voice, hands shoved in his jeans pocket and eyes on the grass. “Felt like my own person was saying it,” When he looks up to meet Satoru’s blue eyes, he adds in a teasing voice, “I didn’t know Mr Gojo’s useless son had this talent,”

“Yeah roast and compliment me in the same sentence,” Satoru shakes his head with a smirk. “Is that how you say thanks?”

“Okay, I’ll say it,” Suguru inhales a deep breath. “Thank you,”

“Thanks,” Satoru says, nodding as he studies Suguru closely. “Why do you always hide your emotions?”

“Why are you talking like a woman?” Suguru tries to dodge.

“I’m talking about my heart and feelings,” Satoru admits with a sigh. “There’s no one back home who will listen to me, and I don’t think [name] really gets me. So I thought I’ll try to speak to you,”

“I too lack practice in that matter,” Suguru confesses. “Those who listened to me are gone now, and Dadi has hearing aids.”

The two friends chuckle, and Satoru says, “So basically we are in the same situation,” he puts his hands on Suguru’s elbows, adding, “Whatever happens, we will always share it with each other.”

Being a tease is Suguru’s defence mechanism, so he says, “Are you going to kiss me right now?”

“I won’t even hug you,” Satoru punches his shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you.”

“Suguru!” His Chacha’s voice comes from inside the house. “Call an ambulance - Mom - I don’t know, just call an ambulance, quick!”

Satoru follows them to the hospital, and Dadi is being taken to the critical care unit - the doctor says she had a cardiac arrest. Suguru is following them, worry written all over his pretty face when Chachi suddenly stops him, asking him where he thinks he’s going.

“Dadi-”

“We will look after your Dadi,” Chachi sternly says. “You bring bad luck wherever you go,”

Suguru doesn’t fight back, but the words cut deeper than any superficial wound ever could. As soon as his Chachi turns around, Suguru nearly runs out of the hospital, Satoru hot on his heels, calling after him. He tries to console him, but Suguru only pushes him off.

“Suguru,” Satoru says, hugging him despite his protests. He returns the hug after a moment, then pulls away quickly feeling the lump in his throat threaten to explode. “Are you okay or do you need another hug?”

Suguru smiles with tears in his eyes, not letting them fall. “I’m okay,”

The next morning, you’re there with flowers in your hands, ready to see Suguru. You wave at him with a small, reassuring smile and a frangipani bouquet in your hands - he’s holding your gaze, and to your surprise, he returns your smile and waves back.

“Suguru, I know you’re mad at me,” You say once you’re close to him. “You don’t even look at me lately, I don’t know what I did wrong but - ”

“I’m not in the mood to listen to your sad rants,” He says, voice breaking. “Dadi is unwell,”

“I know,” You say, exasperated. “That’s why I’m here Suguru.” His eyes hold so much grief and pain in them, and you want to hug him, let him cry on your shoulder and tell him that you’re going to be there for him no matter what - but you refrain. “Are you okay?” you softly ask.

“I’m okay,” Suguru nods, then turns to you, examining your outfit - it’s a short green dress with a low neckline  and a pullover over it, with knee high boots. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” You ask. He eyes your clothes, and you begin to explain, “I know, I know - I don’t have any clothes suitable to come visit the hospital. I am going to go shopping today though.” He is extremely confused and you add, “I want to come here daily, Suguru.”

Suguru’s smile - so full of gratitude and his usually stoic eyes full of tears - welcome you and you take that as a step forward. You don’t know why you’re so giddy at him letting you come visit. You never bothered making friends with Satoru’s old friends before coming to Saint Teresa, but right now he’s the farthest thought in your heart when you look at the man in front of you; so vulnerable and needing support, but without the voice to ask for it.

“Happy birth-” You accidentally say while handing him the flowers, then turn away quickly, embarrassing yourself. Why you turn so stupid around him, you have no idea. He makes you nervous, you want to impress him, want him to think that you’re both pretty and smart, that you’re worthy of - what, you don’t know. You fear the answer, so you don’t dwell on it.

(Ishq Waala Love)

You turn around to look up at him, playing your embarrassment off with a confident smile on your face, and Suguru teases a smile at you, putting the frangipani to his chest. 

Walking away, you’re suddenly intercepted by Satoru - he takes you by surprise - wrapping his arms around you with a cheerful greeting of “Hey, baby,” and inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You had completely forgotten about him while you were with Suguru - but the pretty man with his black bangs doesn’t leave your mind while you’re in Satoru’s arms, his white hair tickling your forehead. You push him back a little, trying to put some distance between the two of you as your eyes flit back to Suguru - he’s already looking at you, back to his grieving self.

The next day, you’re back dressed in a yellow and orange suit, strutting to Suguru and Satoru sitting on the bench outside. Twirling the ends of your dupatta between your fingers, you deliberately make a show of ignoring Satoru, batting your eyes at Suguru, saying, “I want to meet Dadi,”

“No,” Suguru says, his voice soft, matching his violet gaze.

“Why?” You ask, brows knitted. “Am I not dressed correctly?”

“Yeah,” Satoru says, his voice is soft but has an edge of laughter. “Let’s go to the mandir?” You narrow your eyes at the laughing duo and stomp away. Satoru follows after you when Suguru tells him to, eyes crinkles with laughter.

Later, you sit beside Suguru when he is with Dadi, who is passed out on the white bed, connected to many machines. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, so close but so far away, too many things clouding your hearts and minds.

You’re sitting between Suguru and Satoru, the three of you drinking coffee and making jokes, when you’ve subconsciously leaned against Suguru, your head on his shoulder, looking up at his pretty smile with a toothy grin of your own. You hold his arm for a moment before coming to your senses and putting a little distance between the two of you. Satoru puts his arm across your shoulder and pulls you close, but his embrace doesn’t bring the familiar warmth. You push him away, annoyed at his lame joke and take the empty cups from both the men, throwing them in the bin.

It's the final time for Dadi, time for everyone to say their goodbyes. Suguru sits outside her room, his tall frame sulking and alone, bangs half trying to hide the pain and sorrow in his eyes. Your heart cries for him, wanting to embrace him, to show him that you will be there for him no matter what, that you care for him and you won’t hurt him.

Suddenly, Satoru is in front of you, caressing your cheek with his gentle touch, fingers roughed up from his guitar, asking if you want to go get coffee with him. It’s like you are suddenly doused in cold water, pushed out of your trance, and you blink rapidly to get a grip on reality before telling Satoru that you aren’t in the mood for coffee. He squeezes your hand with a smile before leaving you.

The sight of Suguru pressing his hands to his eyes has you right back in that trance, chest rising and falling rapidly as you feel his pain. You sit beside him, trying to give him a smile of confidence, but your eyes betray your worry. He returns your smile with a half smile of his own, but his pretty eyes swam with tears, head lowered, bangs hiding his face. You put your hands on his interlaced ones resting on his lap, rubbing small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb. You cannot stand seeing him in such pain, ready to do anything to make him go back to the guy you had met in Thailand, cocky confidence rubbing off on you. You don’t say anything, holding his teary gaze. He gives you another half smile at your comforting touch, and your eyes soften - you have the sudden inexplicable urge to hold him, let him melt into your embrace and cry his eyes out into your chest as you stand between him and this cruel world, caressing his back and kissing the top of his head. His smile falls, and the intensity of his pretty eyes has you rethinking everything, chest rising and falling rapidly as he lets your smaller hand fall between his two large hands, squeezing it.

When Dadi wakes up for a bit, Suguru takes you to see her, and you greet her softly then excuse yourself, giving them some space. You watch from outside the room as he speaks to Dadi, his back to her, shaking from holding back his cries. Dadi says something and he turns to her, holding her hand and breaking down crying, lying beside her as she weakly comforts her sobbing grandson. You’ve started crying with him, wiping your tears only to have them fall out immediately after.

The only good thing to come out of it was the fact that Suguru was with his Dadi when she passed peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her family.

Suguru had become withdrawn after Dadi, not saying anything, keeping to himself. He barely even spoke to Satoru, and the others didn’t even see him outside of mandatory classes. Even in the classes, the ever active and teacher’s favourite Suguru had stopped answering, zoned out in most classes he attended.

Suguru is in his dorm, putting away his dirty laundry when you walk in the open door, hands held together in front of you. “Satoru’s dorm is a little further ahead,” He says, barely even looking at you.

“I’m here to see you,” You say, voice shaking.

He stills for a moment, his expression bitter. “To give me your condolences?” He forces a smile. “Thank you,”

“Satoru was saying that you don’t want to see anyone,” You start, inhaling a deep breath to keep your voice steady. You step closer to him and his desk as he grabs a book without any particular reason. “Staying alone like this-”

“I have to make a habit of staying alone,” He snaps, voice breaking at the end. It breaks your heart, tears welling in your eyes at his throaty voice. “Everyone who was close to me is gone.” He composed himself a little, adding, “You should stay away, or you’ll die too.”

“You need a friend-” you softly say, your body pulsing with your frantic heart.

“We can’t be friends!” He suddenly raises his voice, and you have to blink back the tears of frustration. You don’t know why his words cut so deeply, you’ve never cared this much about other people - not like you care about Suguru. “You want to be friends with me?” He looks at you for a moment, inhaling a composing breath. “Thank you,” he says in a small voice.

You’re staring at him by standing by his desk, back to you trying not to think about why it was affecting you so much, finding any other thing to make him talk. His pretty hair is messy and unkempt, and you want to take care of him, treat him to all the good things in life. That is when you spot your jhumki - sitting right on his desk at the edge of a mug. You remember that jhumki, the one you had been struggling to put on back in Thailand, and the way that Suguru had touched your hair to hide the missing earring. You remember his touch, his gaze, and how he had agreed to help you save your relationship.

You grab it from his desk, feeling a grin curve your lips. “Please leave,” Suguru says, seeing you around his desk. “I told you I don’t want to see anyone,”

“But Sugu, this jhumki won’t look good on you,” You teasingly say, maintaining an air of innocent confusion. “Not without it’s complete pair,”

Suguru has a pretty smile on his face, one that you are delighted to be the reason for. You purse your lips, looking at his pretty face and messy hair, taking little steps closer to him and finally hugging him like you’ve wished you could for a long time. Much to your delight, he hugs you back, head resting on your shoulder sniffling to hold himself back from crying.

Suguru is the one to pull back from the hug, pushing out the hair that has fallen to your face as you longingly look up at him, his gentle touch making you lose your mind. His large hands fall to your neck, thumb behind your ear as your eyes flit down to his pretty, worried lips then back to his eyes, the delicate touch of his thumb tickling you in just the right way. Heavy breaths fill the little space between you two, leaning closer with your eyes closed until your lips brush against his.

Your hands on his back pull him closer, and one of his hands goes behind your head while the other goes down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as your lips move against each other. The familiarity of his touch has your mind short circuiting - his kiss brings a calm security instead of the anxious butterflies, the movement of your lips and tongues filled with such desperate longing - a longing for affection and love rather than lust, the gentle kiss of a lover, worshipping, all consuming and caring. You’ve never been kissed like this before, like you are a prayer, like he is afraid that you’ll disappear as soon as he opens his eyes. It was wrong what you were doing, but then why did it feel so good? So right?

When he pulls back, you want him to kiss you more - you can see it in the sad gleam of his eyes that he doesn’t want to let you go either. His pupils dilated and brows relaxed, it’s a rare sight, and it’s a sight that you’ll never forget.

There’s a shuffling sound behind you - heads turn to the room's door only to find a distraught Satoru - hands fall to your side at the sight of Satoru’s big blue eyes filled with tears, you chase after him as he storms away without a word and you begin to chase after him, calling out his name.

“Satoru, I’m sorry! Listen to me!” You plead.

“Just leave me alone,” He says, throwing his bag. Satoru is out by the common area and there’s a swarm of students surrounding you three at the noise. 

“Satoru, please!” You plead, reaching out to him with your hands raised.

“Just leave me alone and don’t touch me,” He yells. Kicking down a random stack of chairs. 

“Just listen to me, please!” You plead, your voice breaking. You manage to grab his shoulders, but he is quick to push you off, face red and eyes glowering with anger. “Just leave me alone, I said!” He yells, louder this time. Suguru is quick to intervene, only to be pushed away by Satoru. It’s turning into a brawl and you hate it, you hate it so much. You hate your stupid heart, you hate yourself for not listening to Suguru and staying away from him like he asked you too. Your heart aches seeing the sheer heartbreak on Satoru’s face, his usually bright, humorous eyes filled with rage and betrayal and you despise that you’re the cause of it.

“You keep your mouth shut!” Satoru yells, somehow sounding even angrier at Suguru. “You have no class, no civility! I should never have talked to poor people like yourself. I am - was - your best friend, and you’re there kissing my girlfriend?! You are no one’s person!” He is pushing Suguru harder with each word, and Suguru accepts it, not even trying to fight back. He too has tears pooling in his eyes, messy hair falling to his face. “This is why you have no one to call your home.” Satoru’s welled eyes have turned red with rage, and with each shove his anger only seems to grow. “Everyone is dead! You mom, dad, and now Dadi-”

That is what snaps Suguru, the mention of Dadi and he punches Satoru with such force that his best friend nearly falls down. Suguru picks him up, only to punch him in the face again. “If you say anything regarding my mom and dad, I will break your face,” He snaps, voice colder than ice. “You aren’t even your mom-dad’s person, how can you even be my best friend? All this talk about class and status, what do you do? All you do is use your dad’s influence and money.”

“Dad’s money is all that you’re after right?” Satoru doubles down in his vicious words. “That’s why you befriended me, right? You wanted to have a life like me - and now you’re also stealing my girlfriend?!”

“What’s this girlfriend-boyfriend thing, huh?” Suguru doubles down as well, high from the anger coursing through his veins. “She never loved you, and you-? You’ve been out there everywhere putting your face on every other girl you see. You’re calling this a relationship? You have no right to call her your girlfriend!”

“You’re no one to tell me of my rights,” Satoru yells, holding Suguru’s t-shirt’s collar, ready to throw another punch. “She is mine, mine only!”

“Why don’t you ask her whose she is?” Suguru challenges. “She loves me, and I love her!”

They’ve started throwing punches everywhere, the whole school watching their brawl unfold. Satoru hits, Suguru punches, it’s a mess - a mess that you cannot stand, for reasons you aren’t ready to accept yourself. You walk up to them, tears glistening in your eyes and yell at them to stop. They do, but the air is still thick with tension as you speak, “What do you even know about me? About my feelings?” You speak to the both of them, voice breaking. “Nothing! And the sad part is, you aren’t even willing to listen! You just want to win me - I am not a part of any competition. I am not a prize. I am done with this whole thing.” 

Suguru looks upset, ashamed of himself, but Satoru only looks angry - and you don’t know what pains you more. You rush away, before anyone in the gathering crowd as a chance to stop you and hide in your dorm.

Satoru’s anger doesn’t subside even as he reaches home. Even as his mother shows concern for the bruises on his face, he only pushes her off, not in the mood to see anyone. If his mood wasn’t already so bad, it got worse as his father came up to stop him, demanding that he treat his mother with respect.

“Look at yourself!” Isamu Gojo scolds with a yell. “You look like a street thug! Who did you even fight? Answer me.”

“I don’t want to answer anyone,” Satoru says, meeting his dads angry gaze.

“You have to, you’re living under my roof,” Isamu snaps. “I’ve tolerated your misdemeanour for so long. You can’t behave properly at home, at least mind your family’s image outside of the house.”

“You’ve not made any good image, Dad,” Satoru finally says, swallowing the angry lump in his throat. “The only thing you’ve made is money.”

“That’s the money funding your life, you know?!” Isamu yells, eyes wide in anger. “You only know two things - having fun and making a fool out of me,”

“What are you ashamed of, hm?” Satoru asks, lips wobbling as he speaks. “That I don’t want to be an industrialist? That I want to be a musician?”

“Yes! I’m ashamed that my son has such middle-class dreams!” Isamu yells back.

“Dreams don’t have any class,” Satoru says, blinking away his tears. “But only a dad would get that, not a twisted man.” Isamu slaps him, and Satoru’s voice finally breaks as he says, “I have no wish to live in your house, and I don’t want to be your son,”

“You’ve lost the privilege of being my son,” Isamu says, an angry frown on his face.

“When was I ever your son?” Satoru asks, then turns around to leave. His mother tries to stop him, but he pushes her off once again, vowing to himself to never turn back, to never step foot in any of his father’s properties again and to never take a penny from this man.

He is filled with a new determination to win the Student of the Year trophy - to prove everyone and himself that he wasn’t useless, that he was more than Mr. Gojo’s money made him. His goal had now shifted from winning the trophy to defeating everyone else - particularly Suguru.

The second last stage of the competition - the prom where everyone needs to bring a date - is close and everyone’s preparations are in full swing. The campus gym is occupied and people are busy finding dates and practising their steps, for no one ever wants to lose after coming this close. 

Satoru has become a loner, avoiding even Haibara during lunch hour. Suguru too is back to his quiet self, speaking only when he deems it to be necessary. You… Well, you’ve had the worst burnt of their fight somehow - utterly messed up with your own emotions - your mind says one thing but your heart craves another, you’re avoiding everyone like they are the plague. 

Shoko finds you sitting all alone, eyes distant. “Hey, what’s up?” She asks, sitting beside you. “Who are you going to prom with? Satoru or Suguru?”

“It’s not funny, Shoko,” you say with a frown. “The whole school is gossiping about me now,”

“Ignore the gossip,” Shoko says, voice serious. “Tell me about your feelings,”

“I don’t even want to think about them!” You’re exasperated, torn by your own moralities and desires.

“You love Suguru,” Shoko sternly says, trying to talk sense into you. 

“Shoko, Satoru and I-”

“What about it?” She stops you. “There was nothing there - you were angry and miserable for most of the time. It was not a match made in heaven, rather a match made in your elite circles.” Her concern is genuine. “I know you’re confused right now, and you’re allowed to be confused. You should take some time. Your heart will answer for you.”

“There’s this competition right in the middle of everything,” You sigh.

“Then leave it,” Shoko suddenly says, an idea forming in her pretty head. You turn your head to her, eyes wide. “This stupid competition is not more important than your feelings, right?”

You discreetly scrutinise her fidgety behaviour and say, “You’re right, I won’t take a part in this competition. Disqualifying isn’t that bad,” you turn to her just as she suppresses her smile. “What do you think?”

“I’d have done the same thing, if I were you.” Shoko says, squeezing your shoulder in support.

The next evening, Shoko jogs up to Haibara after her gym session, saying, “Haibara, I’ve decided that I will be your date to prom this year,”

“You aren’t going to be my date,” He says, voice sassy. “You’re late.” He sounds thrilled saying your name, “She has already asked me to be her date.”

Shoko storms into your shared room and sees you checking yourself out in the mirror, seeing which dress looks pretty on you. You barely pay any attention to her as she angrily stomps her feet.

“Are you seriously going to prom with Haibara?” She practically spits out.

“Yeah, I am,” You say, feigning innocence. “I suddenly thought, why should I even let Satoru or Suguru influence my life?”

“And why did you think of that so suddenly?” She asks, voice bitter.

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” You say, frowning a little. “I don’t get this reaction,”

“What do you mean?” Shoko says, her breaths suddenly heavy with the way you’ve caught her little scheme.

“You know exactly what I mean, Shoko,” You say. “But I am not giving up on prom just to reduce your competition,” You look her up and down once, adding, “Because, lets face it, you and dance is like me and poor,”

Shoko rapidly blinks, then says, “You’re so disgusting,” she turns to leave. “I don’t even want to talk to you,”

You pat her shoulder, and bat your eyelashes, “I’d have done the same thing, if I were you.” echoing her words back to her.

Shoko leaves your room, walking to put as much distance as she can between the two of you. In the basketball court, she sees Suguru, alone and begins rambling about your confused state under her breath, pretending that she didn’t see him.

“Shoko, are you okay?” He stops her and asks once she is close to him.

“No, I’m not okay. I’ve just fought with her.” Shoko says, not hiding her anger. “She is such a drama queen I’m so tired of her!”

“Why what happened?” He asks, thin brows creased with concern.

“She says she’s confused between you and Satoru,” She says, and Suguru instantly turns to the ball in his hands, avoiding her angry brown eyes. “But she is going to prom with Haibara, so Satoru gets jealous. Then there’s no confusion, right?”

“Right,” Suguru hesitates, turning to the basket instead, his bangs hiding his heartbreak.

“Anyways, I don’t want to be in the middle of all of this,” She says, brown eyes gleaming with excitement, seeing the effect of her words on Suguru. “I’ll speak to you later, okay?” She walks away, praying that her little scheme works.

“Shoko,” He calls after her, and her heart does a little dance at her plan working out. “Who are you going to prom with?”

“No one,” She says in a small voice, her lips pulled down in a frown. 

“Haibara, please help me find a date to prom,” Nanami asks, sitting on the edge of his friend’s bed. “There’s no one willing to go with me,”

“I love you Nanami,” Haibara says, sitting up with his hand on the blond’s shoulder. “But I cannot go to prom with you,”

“I don’t want to go to prom with you, I want you to help me find a date to the prom, man,” Nanami says.

“Nanami, leave,” Satoru says, storming into Haibara’s room. Nanami grumbles under his breath but leaves the two alone. “Haibara, you’re taking her to prom?! Who do you even think you are?”

“I’m Haibara,” He says, frowning.

“Did a rabid dog bite you or something?” the white haired man shakes his head, irked. “Are you crazy? You go, you go and tell her that you can’t be her date to prom.”

“Hey! Stop it,” Haibara yells. “I don’t need your permission to do things in my life. I’m not your servant.”

Satoru chuckles, shaking his head. It’s demeaning. “What about all that time you spent on my credit card, hm?”

Something breaks in the brunet’s heart at the mention, so he says, “But i’ve also given you full service for that time,” He has a rare, angry frown on his face. “Haibara, park the car, Haibara, bring me a drink. Haibara, can you take her to the mall for me, please? Can you bring her an apology card? Now Haibara is taking her to prom as his date, arm in arm and you can’t do anything about it.”

“You too are showing your class,” Satoru says through gritted teeth.

“You are no one to talk about class, Satoru.” Haibara taunts. “The only thing you have is daddy’s money, and now you don’t even have that,” 

“Satoru, don’t be so upset now,” Tanya says, running her hands over his chest by the swimming pool. She undoes her robe, pressing herself against his chest, saying, “If you want… I could be your date,”

(the disco song)

The much anticipated prom night and dance competition is now here - eliminating four out of the twelve competitors - only 8 finalists and one winner of the trophy. Suguru-Shoko, Satoru-Tanya, Haibara-You, Nanami-Ichiji and the rest of the participants stand in the front, arm in arm with their dates in front of the judges with Dean Yaga introducing you to the two women. The tension in the air is thick and palpable, with everyone waiting to see who will snap first under the pressure. It was dance or disqualification, and everyone wanted to eliminate their competition.

Suguru and Shoko sneak a glance at you - Shoko with a proud smile and Suguru with a distant longing, and you feel yourself tearing up seeing your friend in his arms, by his side. You turn your head, happening to meet Satoru’s gaze. He has Tanya on his arm - the sight of it making your blood boil. You feel indifference, the discontent in your heart at the sight of Shoko and Suguru evaporating with the anger. You are there to win. 

The music plays and the competitors start with their opening steps. You’re half jealous of the way Suguru and Shoko move together so gracefully, painfully reminded of that time in Thailand that you had danced with him. Satoru and Tanya have bolder dance moves, the bitter memories of the past year feeding into your determination to move to the next round.

You dance with Haibara, it’s not as natural as it had been with Suguru, but you will have to do it. You’re both there to prove a point.

The solo dancing has you moving more gracefully, and you hope that the judges give you some extra points for the performance you put up. Suguru and Satoru perform their own well practised sequence with the music - you don’t feel much looking at them now, without their dates.

The competitors dance with the beats of the music, Suguru twirling a rarely graceful Shoko in his arms and Satoru spinning with Tanya in his arms. Haibara has you in his arms in a dance similar to waltz, and you put on your best smile for the judges. For a moment, in your head, you are with Suguru - with him easily manoeuvring you around, your steps perfectly in sync and your smile turns more genuine.

The music shifts and your partners change, you land into Satoru’s arms, looking right into his mellowed blue eyes so full of repentance and regret. You cannot stand to look at him, all the nights that you’ve stayed up crying at his antics flooding your memories as you turn away from him. The familiarity of his chest against your back and his breaths on your neck as you cringing. You thank the heavens as the music shifts again - Satoru spins you around and stomps away from you in anger, the memory of you kissing his best friend too fresh a wound.

The heavens tease you with kindness, turning cruel as you end up in Suguru’s arms, unable to look away from his pretty purple eyes, his hair smooth against your hand on his chest. It’s too much - the memory of his gentle touch, his easy smile, the warmth of his lips against yours, the sight of your best friend with him. Oh you want to embrace him so bad it makes you want to cry. This competition is a cruel joke - destroying your relationships and playing with your delicate heart like some child’s toy. You cannot bring yourself to look away from his eyes, so soft and gentle as he steadily holds your gaze with moist eyes even as you step back and move away from him, hands moving from his chest to your sides and you leave the stage, barely holding back your tears.

Satoru has been eyeing you, his heart breaking into a million pieces as a cold acceptance replaces the warmth of his affections for you. He now knows - it was too obvious, you never looked at him like you looked at Suguru just then. The acceptance is what he needs as he resumes with this solo dance, determined to snatch that trophy away from Suguru.

Suguru blinks away the tears the sight of yours brought, and he has to physically restrain himself from running after you. You need space, he thinks, before remembering the trophy that had started all of this in the first place, restarting his solo dance as he loses sight of you, the determination to win that trophy dulling.

Satoru, Shoko, Suguru and Haibara are four of the eight from the now-split gang that make into the finalists, ready for the final stage of the competition - the triathlon which begins with swimming, then cycling and ends with track.

Suguru sees Dean Yaga with Mr. Gojo one afternoon, only greeting Yaga with a good afternoon.

“Hi Suguru,” Mr Gojo shakes his hand with a bright smile. “How are you?”

Yaga beats Suguru to it, beaming with pride, “By the way, Suguru and Rohan are both in the top 8. It’s gonna be a tough battle, Isamu, not easy.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Isamu says, shaking his head.

“Well, you will say that,” Yaga says with a smile. “Satoru is your son, after all.”

“That’s why I’m saying this,” There’s something in Isamu’s voice that ticks Suguru off in the wrong way. “Suguru will win, my money is on you.” Isamu pats his shoulder, then says. “Good luck,”

The whole time, the top 8 finalists spend their time training for the triathlon - timing their swimming, working out their legs and spending time on the cycle. It's an intense couple of days, with much tension but no drama.

On the day of the triathlon, you sit in the bleachers by the swimming pool, watching your friends stretch and get ready before the swimming starts. Satoru’s eyes are determined and challenging Suguru, whose face hides his internal conflicts. Somehow, his eyes find yours in the buzzing crowd, and you give him a small smile, which he returns before putting his goggles on and getting ready to dive.

It’s Shoko with her slim body and fast reflexes that finishes the swim first, and quickly gets out and puts on her shoes before running out to the cycles. Haibara is next, followed by Suguru ahead of Satoru by a fraction of a second. Once out of the surveillance area, the brunet is quick to catch up to Shoko and push her off track and into the grass, promptly disqualifying her.

Satoru, fueled by rage, powers up and puts everyone behind on the cycling path, with Suguru close behind him, his internal battle now in favour of winning the trophy. Satoru is the first one to enter the race track, followed by Suguru. There’s a distance of more than 10 metres between them when Suguru starts running. Satoru runs on red rage while Suguru has the skills of the track, easily catching up the distance. Ultimately, the battle for the trophy is between the two of them and no one else. 

The last few seconds are intense, Suguru has caught up on the distance, and the both run parallelly now, in the bleachers, Isamu Gojo is cheering for his son’s defeat, while his mother looks concerned. For a moment, Suguru has overtaken Satoru, everyone is sure of his victory, when Suguru slows down a bit and adrenaline pushes Satoru. The smile on Isamu’s face fades as the chances of his son winning increase. Suguru’s eyes close for a moment, and Satoru becomes the first one to push the ribbon, by a mere hundredth of a second. He’s unsure of his win, but the angry frown on Suguru’s pretty face has him accepting it.

The crowd breaks out in cheers, celebrating Satoru’s win.

Later in the evening, after everyone has changed into formals and put on the Saint Teresa blazers, they assemble in the hall, waiting for Dean Yaga to finally hand the trophy to Satoru Gojo. Nanami isn’t himself, having spent the entire week disappointed in himself and Yaga - for making this competition unfair and breaking apart his friend group.

“Boys and Girls, I’m delighted to call on the stage,” Dean Yaga’s awfully cheerful voice cuts through everyone’s ears. “The Student of the Year, Satoru Gojo!” Satoru smiles at his mother’s delight for his victory, and goes up to the stage as the crowd cheers for him. “Congratulations, many congratulations,” Yaga says as he hugs his student. “I’m so proud of you, my boy. All yours.”

“Thank you,” Satoru says, voice more serious than usual. “Each student of Saint Teresa wants to win the title of the Student of the Year. In 25 years, there have been many successful students who won this trophy,” he pauses for a moment. Satoru’s pale nose is unusually pink, as if he has spent his time crying. “I don’t want to insult anyone - but I cannot accept this trophy.” He explains, “I have my reasons, reasons that I have no wish to explain.”

The hall falls into a stunned, confused silence. You, Shoko, Haibara are all confused - he wanted to win that trophy so badly, then why was he suddenly refusing to accept it? What even happened? He walks down the stage, stopping in front of his father for a second, a smirk on his face and shaking his head at the sombre old man, then walks away.

Suddenly, Nanami loudly claps his hands in the crowd, drawing everyone’s attention and making Satoru stop in his tracks. He gets up from his place and continues clapping. “Well done, Satoru, well done!” he says, his appearance dishevelled. “Good for you! Good for you!” he turns to the crowd, “Hey! Why aren’t you all clapping now, when you should?” He takes the hand of a student and claps his hands together. “Clap your hands!”

“Nanami! Behave yourself,” Yaga scolds from above the stage. “Are you drunk? The school will not tolerate this behaviour!”

“School?” Nanami chuckles with irony. “You know what Dean, to hell with this school, and to hell with you!”

“Nanami!” Coach gets up from his place, angry at his behaviour. Suguru gets up and tries to take Nanami away, but the blond stops him.

“This Student of the Year trophy was your idea, right?” Nanami turns to Yaga, clicking his fingers. “Then you should get the award.” He pretends to pick up an award from Suguru’s empty chair. “Here is your award for the most stupid idea!”

“All because you didn’t win?” Yaga’s voice is condescending. “Look at yourself Nanami, what were the chances?”

“Yes, I lost.” Nanami admits. “But why did I lose?” he’s raising his hand, pointing his finger to Yaga. “Because of you and your stupid rules. Guys and girls will run together, a date is mandatory for the prom,” he comically dances in his drunk anger, saying in a sing-song voice, “dance to win the trophy,” he turns back to Yaga with a chuckle. “But who cares, who cares if this idiot can’t dance? And who cares that people like us,” his finger goes back and forth between himself and Yaga. “Who cares that people like us can find a partner? You should’ve known that,” his tone is accusatory and he’s beginning to cry.

Your heart cries in sympathy, while Satoru and Suguru inch closer to him, trying to get him to stop. “Let me speak, this stupid drama has been going on for 25 years now,” Nanami challenges. “Why? Because Dean Masamichi Yaga has no entertainment in his own life. He’s alone, and he wants to break all our friendships too. You know what, you are a jealous, lonely and very unhappy man!”

Yaga’s face has reddened and his eyes welled up behind his signature glasses. He’s stunned into silence, but Nanami continues, “Congratulations, sir! Your final episode is a complete hit! You ended two years of friendships within two weeks.” His voice only gets louder. “We all hate each other!” He raises his hand in a military salute. “For that, I wanna salute you, Dean Masamichi Yaga!”

He drops the navy Saint Teresa blazer at the Dean’s feet and stomps away, pushing Satoru and Suguru on his way out.

Ten years later

Nanami’s phone rings in the middle of the night, who answers, grumpy. “Hello,” the voice on the other line says something. “There’s no Ichiji here… OH! Ichiji!” He wakes up as realisation hits him. “Hi! How are you? What? Okay, I’ll come to Dehradun as soon as I can. Yeah, no worries I’ll find them on instagram.”

Now in Dehradun, Nanami, Haibara, Shoko and Tanya recall their time back in Saint Teresa from a decade ago, when Satoru enters the hospital. He’s changed completely - a black blindfold instead of his round sunglasses make up his performer personna - the rockstar Satoru Gojo.  Although, he’s ditched his blindfold in favour of square glasses.

Tanya, just wrapping up her divorce with her fourth husband, is awfully delighted to see Satoru. He hugs Shoko, saying, “You’re looking like a girl now,” gesturing to her long brown hair.

Shoko shakes her head, saying, “I’m a doctor and a mother now. You’re a great person too now,”

“The consequence of leaving my father behind,” He jokes.

“I’m so proud of you,” He says. Satoru spots Haibara, and envelopes in a bear hug, the anger from a decade back forgotten. “Haibara, how are you doing?” He playfully punches Nanami on the shoulder. “How are you, man?”

“What did the doctors say?” He asks, enquiring about Yaga’s condition. Just then, their old coach comes in, complementing his intense, rockstar appearance. Satoru has piercings on his left ear now. He hugs Ichiji, now the new coach at Saint Teresa, walking with him to see the critically sick Yaga.

Suguru gets out of his white Mercedes sedan, dressed in a navy trench coat with a grey sweater vest underneath and a striped scarf warming his neck. His hair has grown out in the last 10 years, long straight hair falling down till his waist. Half of it is tied in an updo. He hasn’t changed as dramatically as Satoru, but he has grown a lot more confident and assertive.

He gets to the other side of the sedan, opening the door to offer you his hand, never wanting to let you open any doors since the two of you got together. You’ve been married for three years now, and you’re the happiest when with him. The only wish you have is that you could turn back time and have things go a little differently than they have, maybe everything would be even better, then.

Getting off the elevator, the first person you see is Shoko, who smiles sweetly at the two of you. Suguru gives her a side hug, greeting her kindly. He then leaves the two of you, knowing there are things left unresolved.

“Hey, Haibara,” Suguru says, deliberately not greeting Satoru right beside him. The long haired man with delicate features instead goes to greet Nanami and Tanya, seeing them after a long time.

“It's been a long time,” Shoko softly says, brown eyes apologising more sincerely than any words ever could.

“Yeah,” You raise your arms, hugging her. Pulling back, you shake your head with a smile. “I hoped you might call after having your baby… Such ego,”

“It wasn’t ego, it was shame,” Shoko admits. 

“It’s all in the past now, forget it,” You say.

“What was even the point of doing all that?” She repents. “I’m still a normal person,”

“Let’s leave all of that,” You say, shaking your head. “Show me the pictures of your baby now,” Shoko smiles brightly at you and shows you the pictures of her little baby girl. “What’s Tanya up to, these days?” you quietly ask her.

“Looking for a new husband,” She whispers to you. “I’d advice to keep Suguru away from her,”

“I trust him,” You say, dismissing her concerns and she gives you a knowing smile. “I'll have to keep him away from someone else though,” you turn to Satoru.

“Hmm,” Shoko still has that teasing smile. “It’s a hospital, wrecking it won’t leave a good impression,”

“Exactly,” you say. “I’ll be right back,”

You walk up to Satoru and Haibara, greeting them both. Haibara leaves quickly, giving the two of you some space. You haven't spoken to Satoru since that day when everything went wrong. But you hug him for a short moment. He had been an important person in your life, afterall.

“You didn’t even invite me to your wedding,” Satoru playfully complains. “I would’ve been there from the bride’s side. I have that much right, don’t I?”

“Shut up, Satoru,” you tease him back. “What’s with that intense look?” you ask, gesturing to his all black appearance and piercings.

“A musician’s appearance must reflect his pain,” He explains. “Otherwise the music doesn’t sell, you know?”

“I’ve listened to your music, you know.” You admit. “Your latest album is amazing,”

“Does he let you listen to my music?” He asks, nodding to Suguru.

“He secretly listens to it himself,” You chuckle. “But he won’t admit that. Come meet Sugu now, come on.”

“Na-ahn,” Satoru shakes his head. “You married him and are showing your authority over me. That's not how it works,”

Suguru’s outside, texting on his phone when you find him. “It’s been ten years now, Sugu,” you try to reason with him. He pockets his phone with a sigh at your words. “What’s to lose by saying a little hello?”

“He shrieks in his songs, he can come say hello too,” Suguru counters with his soft voice. 

“You’re an investment banker Sugu, not a child,” You try to convince him, placing your hand on his arm.

“And you’re my wife, darling,” He says, his eyes kind as he looks down at you. “Not your ex boyfriend’s lawyer.”

“Ex boyfriend’s lawyer, where did that come from?” You say, brows creased and nose scrunched up.

“I saw you hug him,” He counters, making you sigh. “Feeling affectionate?”

“That’s disgusting Sugu, come on,” you drawl.

“What else were you expecting?” Satoru’s taunting voice suddenly interrupts you. “He has billions in his bank but the class of a penny,”

“What did you do with your high class, huh?” Suguru snaps back, but his voice is still a model of serene calm. “You’re playing that guitar like a courtesan in front of an audience,”

“But I give great hugs,” Satoru says, turning to you with a raised brow. “Right?”

That breaks Suguru’s calm facade. He menacingly steps between you and Satoru asserting, “Bastard, mind your mouth. You’re speaking to my wife.”

“She was my girlfriend that day when you kissed her,” Satoru angrily snaps, pushing him back. Suguru punches his face, the martial arts expertise not left too behind with his stock market capabilities. Their fist-fight out in the hospital’s garden has your friends gathering, with Nanami and Haibara rushing to pull them apart at your request, only for Shoko to stop them.

“Don’t,” She says. “It’s an anger of ten years, let them get it out.”

A moment later, Suguru has Satoru's face bruised and pinned to the ground, yelling right in his face, “Why are you so angry, Satoru? It’s not just because of my darling wife,” Satoru’s red face is an angry grimace, wincing in pain. “You didn’t even love her. Then why this anger?!”

Satoru pushes Suguru off himself, standing up and pointing his finger to him accusatory. “You deliberately let yourself lose that day!” He yells, white hair flying in all directions. His mind flashes back to the triathlon from ten years ago. “Why did you do that?” He pushes Suguru, emphasising his point. “Why?!”

“Because your father was a nasty, twisted man!” Suguru answers with a yell. “He was rejoicing seeing you lose, he was wishing me luck to defeat you.” Suguru confesses, retying his messed up hair. “I wanted to be like your father, but even I couldn’t be this twisted. I thought,” Satoru’s blue eyes have lost all that electric rage, leaving behind teared up eyes on realisation. “In that moment, I realised that I could defeat the most powerful man of the country by making you win,” He inhales a deep breath before continuing. “My dad was dead, Satoru, but yours wasn’t a dad either.”

“I dealt with my dad when I left him and his name,” Satoru says, his shove gentle now. “I didn’t need your nobility,”

Suguru shakes his hand, chuckling at his ironic statement. “Nobility, wow!” He incredulously says. “What about that drama you pulled off on the stage? Huh? What the hell was that?” Suguru’s brow is creased and he’s poking at Satoru’s chest, speaking through gritted teeth. “If you knew everything that day, why didn’t you say anything in front of everyone? In front of you dad?” He answers his question himself, “Because you wanted to show to your father that you actually won,”

Satoru throws a punch at that, and Suguru returns a harder one, busting his lip. “Don’t hit my face so hard!” Satoru complains, holding his large hand against his busted lip. 

“Bloody loser,” Suguru mumbles under his breath, wiping the blood on his knuckle and feeling his bruised cheekbone.

“Hey! Who are you calling a loser?” Satoru gets defensive. It’s a true comedy - how fast their fight boiled over and turned childish. “All last five of my albums have been platinum hits,”

“So what?” Suguru competes as well. “My banking business has a turnover of 500 million,”

“International music labels chase me!” Satoru claims. (it's the truth)

“Companies beg me for mergers,” Suguru claims (also the truth)

“When I perform, Wembley shakes,” Satoru yells.

“One snap of my fingers shakes the stock market,” Suguru claims.

“I’ve been with a hundred women-” Satoru says, forgetting himself in the heat of the moment.

“And I have my darling wife-” Suguru says, not hearing Satoru. “Wait what? A hundred, really?” He asks in his calm voice with his brows raised, eyeing him.

“Yeah, plus or minus ten,” Satoru has calmed down as well, but he is terribly embarrassed at his admission. 

“Plus or minus?” Suguru asks.

“Probably minus,” Satoru admits.

They both burst out laughing - it starts with a smile, going to a chuckle then a full blown laughter. “You haven’t changed a bit, you bastard.” Suguru decides.

Quieting down for a moment, they assess the damage, when Satoru slowly turns to his friend. “Are you about to kiss me right now?” Suguru teases.

“I won’t even hug you, motherfucker,” Satoru says as they hug.

Dean Yaga dies with people he cared about surrounding him, happy to see that Suguru and Satoru have rekindled their friendship. Their broken bond weighed heavy on his heart, and he passed peacefully on seeing his old students back together. Satoru and Suguru are back at Saint Teresa’s campus, this time as alumni - there to show students to follow their hearts and maintain their friendships instead of seeing them as competition.

A/N: it took me nearly two weeks to complete and the last 7k words i wrote in one sitting, my hands were numb but we finished it and i've proofread it once (please ignore any errors) special shoutout to my desi girlies here, we've all wanted to be shanaya at one point lmao. I hope ya'll enjoyed it because it was fun writing this hehe. Also the reason I have Satoru or Suguru first is because here in india we address each other by first names for the most part

#gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #satosugu x reader #stsg x reader #stsg soty au #satoru gojo x reader #suguru geto x reader

[citrinae]

aphrodite.

sanji x reader

contents; self-indulgent fluff where you doubt your role at the sunny. he helps you wind up by preparing a bath. sprinkled with some explicit content here n there, worship, established relationships, mythology references, afab!reader, 1k. be gentle fam i'm rusty n down bad for this fool.

The muscles around your shoulders grow taut as you lower yourself into the tub, lukewarm water reaching just below your chest.  Steam climbs up in ribbons and rolls in droplets off your forehead, off white tiles, off the fogged mirror that lingers at the grasp of your wingspan. Usually, it’s no news that it takes you longer than most to loosen up, but there’s been something about this day that rendered you specifically heavy. 

Heavier. 

Sanji’s arms wrap themselves around you, fingers pressing into skin with an eerie gentleness, and you expect your body to tighten even more at the touch, but it doesn’t.

“There,” he rests his chin between your shoulder and neck. “doesn’t this make you feel better, sweetheart?”

(It was him who came up with this, naturally. 

After finding you slumped across some barrel by the docks, he deliberated that a meal alone wouldn't be enough to put you back on your feet. Exhaustion was swirling and defocusing your vision, “Maybe this life isn’t for me.” And who could've blamed you for it? You owned feet that weren’t made for running. Fists that couldn’t break through anything. Worse still, a mind that failed any attempt to deceive. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that interlaced your fate with that of the Straw Hats’. So when their captain had offered you his earnest smile and a place on his ship, you couldn’t help but look back with a raised eyebrow. “This has to be a mistake. You must be joking.”

Right?

And now, as the hissing sound of lighter snapped you back to reality, you remembered part of why you were still willing to try. 

Sanji exhaled through the mouth. “It wounds me to know you like this, dearest,” he said, his eyes shut. “Is there anything I could do to see the sun cast its light upon your lips once more?” 

Your gaze rolled to the side, but there was no hostility there, no strained tone asking to be left alone. He eventually made up his mind by informing that something shall wait for you at the inn the crew voted to rest at for the night. You let him place a peck on your forehead, watched him back to his chores while humming a tune he knew you’d enjoy.) 

A blue blossom floats by your left knee; you fix it absently as you drag your legs closer to your chest. “Maybe, a little,” you admit, leaning your head against his. He smells of nicotine and peach shampoo. 

“I’m glad,” he tells you. It comes out in a prolonged sound that feels like relief. He needs you unscathed like a priest servicing their temple. “Aphrodite,” you remember him confessing, once, as you lounged together on the white-hot flooring of the deck. “Gods carved your face from the foam of the sea and blessed me with the touch of your gaze.” 

(But that was at the beginning of everything. Back when his intentions towards you were uncertain and you knew better than looking too deeply into speeches he pathetically coaxed every woman with. He could be like that, you know—hospitable when no one asks for it. The Moirai, all three, could come aboard swaying their hips in his direction and he’d send them home with a box of chocolates and a piece of poetry each. 

Sanji’s ovations were not sentiments; they were habits.

Yet after weeks of hovering in your proximity, you could tell that, unlike the others, you were cherished in silence—as if you were a shrine to be visited by him and him alone, un chef-d'œuvre, “j'peux pas détacher mes yeux de toi.” 

Then you began to shamelessly spend time in the kitchen, and you enjoyed watching his elbows move above the cutting board, chains shifting across his hips as he stretched to grab a jar of something from the upper shelves. Sanji began, in turn, to wait for you with morning notes attached to cupcake liners and picks of your favourite teas steaming from the stove, his shirt loose with one more button unfastened and spices reorganised near the counter you usually sat on. Before you noticed, each segment in his kitchen would be placed to harmonise with you.

And at lunch you would instinctively search for his gaze, only to notice he was already memorising you down to each curve, pore, line on your face. You’d find yourself pinning it on clumsiness when, under tables, the tip of your shoe brushed his ankle ever so slightly. 

How often did you try to convince yourself he looked at you the same way he looked at any other. Because you were. Like any other.

Soon the same ovations would fall like honey from the tip of his tongue as he pressed you against the wall of the storage room, mouthing thanks for stretching your folds so well around his fingers and for the expectant look in your eye as his touch was searing the skin under your shirt. His breath would catch by your breast when he heard your voice cry out so delightfully sweet for him. And you would have him, kissing your tights, devouring your slit like prayer; because why wouldn’t you? 

How could you deny you this, when he was making you feel like you were the only living being in the Universe?)

“Sanji,” you start, unsure how to continue from here, urging him to turn his head at the sound of his name. “Thank you. I—” lifting your hands over his. “I really needed this.”

Silence; Sanji takes it graciously as he reaches for the sponge across from you and soaks it in the water. 

“I understand if you don't want to talk about today,” he says, softly caressing your back. “But please know I’m here, always, if you ever need an ear to listen.” 

“Heard and heeded.” A smile sprouts at the corner of your lips. “But for now, just stay with me,” and it takes you a minute to get to the last part. “Please.”

And this isn’t something he would admit out loud; maybe just in the dimness of your bedroom dazed with your legs pressing around him. But he yearns to feel needed just as much as you need to acknowledge your worth. 

“Darling,” Sanji stops the sponging to leave a small kiss on your shoulder. “I can’t recall when that was ever a struggle for me.”

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #black leg sanji x reader

[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!Eddie (part 3)

part 1 here | part 2 here | ao3 link here | the temp is up on this one so like... dni if under 18 pls

Eddie is a superstitious person, always has been. Avoids cracks in the sidewalk, refuses to walk under ladders. Says ‘bless you’ despite his lack of goddamn faith (well… scratch the god, keep the damn). That’s why, when Eddie wakes up at 11:11 that morning, he takes it as a sign. A good one too.

Okay yeah, it’s a little gross that he didn’t wake up until now. But he spent most of the night tossing and turning. A thirstfest visual loop of Steve Harrington jerking it to him. Or just his voice. Maybe both, but Eddie would be a conceited fuck if he were to ask for clarity on Steve’s preferred fantasies.

Look, he makes a lot of digs about his appearance because it’s harmless fun. In reality, Eddie is aware that he’s not an un-attractive person. Could he put a little more effort into his skincare routine so that it doesn’t peel off of him anytime he’s in direct sunlight? Sure. But his features are decent enough to get him matches on that dating app he used for exactly four days before deleting. 

Steve, though… Steve is something conjured up by a young adult novelist - creating the dreamiest boytoy for the angsty yet endearing protagonist. Steve is that. He’s something from a fictional world of hotness. And somehow, he exists beyond coffee-stained manuscripts and bestseller lists.

He’s real. And Eddie Munson has a fucking date with him in exactly eight hours.

Holy shit.

It takes two hours for Eddie to decide on an outfit. He facetimes his audio engineer/closest friend after the first hour, because his room is starting to look like an M. Night Shyamalan adaptation of Grey Gardens. 

“Show me the jean options again.” Chrissy’s tone is all business, staring intently on the other side of the phone screen. 

They met at an escape room right outside of the city. After setting a record-breaking time at that location, they got to chatting and quickly discovered they were both in the audio production business. 

Each of them lives the freelance lifestyle now. Highly ideal for their competitive escape room fixation.

Eddie holds up the three pairs of jeans. One pair is his favorite, well-worn and loose around his thighs, just how he likes them. The other two, are pairs that Chrissy bought for him last Christmas.

Lets just say… he only wears those when she’s offering to pay for dinner on their weekly hangouts. 

She hums for a while, twisting her mouth side to side before speaking again. “The dark blue with the gray crew neck. Final answer.”

“These?” Eddie holds the skinny jeans up to his hip bones. He tugs on the waistband to show how very little movement will be possible in these pants. “My dick cannot breathe in these, Chris. It’s like you want me to embarrass myself on this date.”

“I’m doing you a favor.” She shrugs, concealing a smirk behind her water bottle as she takes a sip. “Those pants are so snug, he’ll have no choice but to get you out of them as soon as possible.”

“Are you insinuating that I put out on the first date?

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.”

“I’m insinuating you put it in on the first date.”

“How dare you.” Eddie points at his phone screen. Sucks in his laughter because yeah. Props. That was a good one. He can’t admit that though because no part of him wants to wear these boa constrictor jeans.

“You were just telling me how you fucked him with your words last night.”

“Fair. But I also explained that I was clearly possessed by the spirit of Blanche Devereaux.” Eddie slips out of his lounge tee, pulls over the one Chrissy picked out for him instead. “I swear, that woman had quite the knack for dirty lingo.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes and gives Eddie a halfhearted salute. “And that’s my exit cue.”

“What? Why?”

“Because anytime you bring up Golden Girls, we start arguing over who would play them in the gender-swapped remake.”

Wrong. Totally false. There’s absolutely no argument to be had. Eddie knows exactly who he’d cast right off the top of his head. Joe Pesci, Michael Caine…

Chrissy must see the gears turning in Eddie’s head because she hangs up before he can launch into his well-rehearsed presentation. Which isn’t a joke, he has a PowerPoint on this particular topic (with cited sources and fancy transitions).

Eddie does one last glance in the mirror before heading out. The pants make his waist look slender, nice. His skin is being squeezed in too many areas, but that’s kind of the point. At least the shirt is loose, albeit a little short. Reveals a patch of his lower tattoos every time he lifts his shoulders.

Okay damn, Chrissy probably knew that too. Maybe she’s the one possessed by the horny spirit of Blanche Devereaux. 

Spiritual possession or not, Eddie ruffles out his bangs one last time. Heads out feeling much more confident than he did after his initial interaction with Steve Harrington.

Eddie agrees to pick Steve up at his last photoshoot of the day. It’s close to his side of town, which means he doesn’t have to fight his way through LA traffic. 

A good sign sent from his lucky wake-up time, no doubt.

He doesn’t expect the photoshoot to be at an amphitheater, but it is. A small one, probably only used for local productions. There’re cameras lining the outer rim of the stage, shuttering and flashing like headlights on a highway. Eddie can hear the director and photographers spewing directions from his car. There’s an audience of producers and crew members, seems like a big fucking deal by the looks of it.

The set is, well, breathtaking - way better than that knockoff fantasy shit from the cologne ad. It’s full of greenery. Trees swaying with the breeze and ivy carpeting the stage floor. A forest that’s almost too beautiful to be synthetic. Eddie wonders if any of the plants are real or if the props department was just that damn good at finding fake ones.

After a few minutes, he checks the time. The shoot is running long. No biggie - Eddie is enjoying the view anyways. Especially, when he finally spots Steve. The view is exceptionally priceless now.

Steve perched on top of a tree trunk, feeding some other model grapes. The dark and stupidly jealous part of Eddie hopes they choke on those grapes. 

His costume almost blends in with the backdrop, dark hues of green. Subtle shades of browns. Perfectly camouflaged by nature. There are vines wrapped around his bare arms, leaves tucked into his tousled hair. 

Honestly, he looks a lot like a wood nymph that Eddie would selfishly design for a DnD campaign. Better, actually. Eddie should take notes. Steal the designer's sketches when nobody's looking.

He’s positively itching to get out of his car, get a closer look at Steve in all his botanical glory. But that might come across as too impatient. Or worse, too presumptuous. So Eddie picks one of his lengthier playlists and settles into his seat.

There’s a tap on Eddie’s window, startling him out of his nap. He must’ve dozed off about twenty minutes ago because the last song he remembers listening to was from the mid-90s section of the playlist. Now, they’ve moved into early 2000s territory.

Seriously, math is way easier when music is leading the equation.

Steve is right there, peering in, still tapping incessantly. His eyes are wide, concerned maybe. Which, yeah. Concern makes sense, considering his date is yawning before the date has even started. Fucking yikes.

Eddie rolls down the window, gives Steve a toothy grin as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Heya, FernGully.”

Steve doesn’t acknowledge Eddie’s costuming reference. Probably missed out on that era of cult classic cartoons. “Up late?” He leans against the car and smiles, far more dazzling than the sun setting behind him.

“You would know.”

Oh, and that earns Eddie a wink from Steve. The nun-converting wink he saw months ago and still thinks about.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve reaches into the empty space, pushes the latch down to unlock the front door. “Come on.”

“Uh-”

“I’ve gotta change before we head out.” Steve swings the door open before Eddie can protest.  “Unless you want to have dinner with me dressed like this.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

If there were a Renaissance Festival in town or a Medieval Dinner Show still in business, Eddie would definitely trick his way into getting Steve to go dressed like that. But he tucks the idea away for now, walks down the hill with Steve to the amphitheater. Does his best impression of a civilized human.

“So… what are you supposed to be exactly?”

Steve points to the body glitter on his cheeks. “A fairy.”

Yup. A new file of woodland fantasies starring Steve Fairyington have downloaded into Eddie’s mind. If voice acting didn’t pay so well, he could make an impressive career out of his whimsical porn concepts.

So he deflects. Humor is the only solution to keep the conversation PG-rated. “Just because you’re into guys doesn’t mean you’ve gotta use outdated terms like that.”

“You know what I mean.” Steve knocks an elbow into Eddie’s arm. “I’m a literal fairy.”

“Are you implying that literal fairies exist?” Eddie teases.

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Jesus, you’re a piece of work.”

“I can tone it down.”

Steve stops walking, places a hand in the center of Eddie’s chest to stop him too. His playful energy fucking warps into something new. Savory and seductive. Bewitching.

“Don’t even think about it.” He answers, slipping his hand down a little, almost between Eddie’s ribs. The motion sends static through Eddie’s core, up his spine. Raises the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck.

It shouldn’t be alarming that Steve’s touch is powerful. Look at him. 

Eddie has a hard time focusing on the conversation after that. Luckily, the timing works out for him to get his shit together, as Steve heads into the trailer that's parked next to the stage.

He tells Eddie he can take a closer look at the set that he suddenly can’t seem to shut up about. It really is stunning. The size, the details, the color choices. Eddie is fairly certain this is the closest he’ll ever be to experiencing Endor in real life.

Most of the crew members are gone, a few still packing up equipment while Eddie observes a variety of plants used for decorating the wooden platforms. Learns that some plants are real and some are fake, which is actually genius. The mixture of the two distract from the plastic-y finish on some of the vines.

“This is for a special-edition cover of some Shakespeare script.” Steve says, joining Eddie at his side. His outfit is rather colorful. It checks out that he's one of the few people that can pull off a purposeful athleisure aesthetic (Eddie hates that he knows what that style looks like, ugh). “Hence the fairies and forests and shit.”

“Wait.” A lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head. “Is this for A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

“That’s the one.”

Eddie does a sharp turn, starts shaking Steve by his shoulders. Absolutely bursting with excitement. “Steve literal fairy Harrington, this is ridiculously cool! Like… the history-making kind of cool!”

“If you say so.” Steve agrees calmly.

“How the hell are you not more jazzed about this?”

“You sound just like my manager.” Steve mumbles. “Truth be told, the only Shakespeare play I’ve ever read is Macbeth.”

Eddie gasps, sucks in enough air to fill an inflatable kiddie pool. “We’re on a stage, you can’t just blurt out the Scottish Play like that.”

This is not good. Horrible, even. Not a damn chance that Eddie can be mellow about this. Superstitious person, believer of traditions, blah blah blah. 

And while hiding that piece of his personality should be a simple task, he cannot blatantly ignore such a major fuckup on Steve’s part. No matter how accidental of a fuckup it might have been.

“Okay, what are you talking about?” Steve asks. Still calm. 

“It’s bad luck.” Eddie explains. “The closest thing to cursing a theatrical production.”

“Well, good thing this isn’t a theatrical production then.”

And as Steve laughs off the thoughtless joke, a loud thud is heard at the back of the stage. 

There it is. A warning of impending doom in the form of a loose stage light, hanging by a few loose wires. 

Almost everyone is gone, only two crew members remain on the sidelines. One of them gets on their walkie talkie, mumbles something about a safety hazard incident.

Pfft, not just an incident. A fucking threat from the ghost of theater, that’s what it is.

“See?” Eddie waves both arms at the light structure swinging upstage. “You’ve pissed off Thespis with your loose lips.”

“Who?”

“Oh my god, you’re so-” 

A high-pitched scream cries out from a nearby street. Both Steve and Eddie jump at the sound. It’s a long, frightening scream. Something straight out of a slasher film, which is a likely possibility, for sure. Things are filmed out on the streets of Los Angeles quite a bit.

But the fear ringing out from this particular scream sounds real. Gritty and hoarse.

Fucking terrifying. 

Once the screaming stops, no sign of returning, they share a look. It’s not an ‘I’m gonna jump your bones’ look either. It’s awkward. A fine line between guilt and ‘I told you so.’

“That was just a coincidence.” Steve waves off the scream like it’s just a daily occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Curses aren’t real.”

Eddie doesn’t want to shout ‘you’re wrong’ from his metaphorical megaphone. Not on a first date, at least. Outright dogmatic behavior shouldn’t come into play until like… the end of the third date.

All he can do is shrug, swallow back the urge to correct this beautiful person standing beside him.

He’s so rigid now, almost timid from the lingering anxiety that more freaky shit is about to happen. 

“Come here.” Steve motions his head to the side, peering softly at Eddie’s expression. His shoulders are relaxed, arms reaching out for Eddie to follow. Join him.

Which he does. Can’t help it. Fully dazed by Steve’s patience, legs moving without a chance to reconsider.

“Wanna get out of here?” Steve thumbs over Eddie’s cheek, skims his nail against the scratchy bits of stubble along Eddie’s jaw. His movements are slow, precise. Only a smidge of pity in his smile. 

Yup. That’s what this must be - Steve probably thinks Eddie is being dramatic. Must assume he can smooth over Eddie’s knotted nerves by just touching him. Tracing hypnotic patterns over his skin.

Eddie is mildly irritated that it’s working. If he can’t find the strength to look away from Steve’s sunny-tinted eyes soon, he’ll float away. Slip through the air as particles. Dust. Nothing but his slutty wishes will remain.

“Not yet.” Eddie gulps.

“No?”

He can’t in good conscience let this theater stay plagued by Steve’s words. This place is on verge of being the location for a Final Destination sequel.

So Eddie removes Steve's hand from his face, squeezes once before returning it back to Steve’s side. “Gotta reverse the fuck out this bad omen first.”

“There’s no such thing as-”

“Don’t.” He pleads. “Put my superstitious mind at ease. Can you do that for me?”

Steve at least has the decency to look away while he rolls his eyes. Pretty and considerate. “Fine. How do I break the curse?”

Eddie has spent enough time in theaters to know there’s a few variations on this process. Changes from director to director. The most common one is going outside and spinning in a circle three times, then knocking on the door till someone lets you back inside.

But that’s where the problem comes in. They’re already outside and there’s no door to knock on, while pleading for forgiveness.

Hmm…

It’s a good thing Eddie remembers a few adjustments to the protocol. It’s an even better thing that he was captain of his improv troupe for three years back in college. Thinking of solutions on the spur of the moment? Adapting for the sake of the scene? Eddie lives for that shit. Comedy fucking chameleon, that’s him.

And what’s better than all of that? His leftover luck from waking up at 11:11am.

Guess it pays off to be a superstitious person. Sometimes.

Eddie clears his throat, delivers the instructions with a southern drawl. Fucks around with it because he can. “So first, you have to walk around the theater three times.”

“Okay.”

“Backwards.” That’s definitely not part of the procedure, but oh well. Steve doesn’t have to know that.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fuck that.”

“Sorry. I don’t make the rules, gorgeous.”

Except he does make the rules. Currently having way too much fun watching Steve squirm at the stupidity of it all. He’s quickly learning how easy it is to push Steve’s buttons. That shouldn’t be so thrilling for him but whoops. It is.

“Whatever.” Steve kicks a piece of gravel off the stage and sighs. “Then what?”

So he wants more? Eddie can do that. “You have spit on the ground to show your remorse.” 

“This is a bunch of shit.”

“I said spit, not shit.” Eddie leans into Steve’s ear, uses his studio voice, watches as Steve turns pink all over. He lowers the volume down to a whisper. “Try to keep up.”

“Asshole.” But there’s a grin plastered all over Steve’s face as he grumbles. Eddie’s chest is fizzing, total carbonated joy inside him knowing that Steve is a vicious little monster, just like him.

He shoos Steve off to complete the reversal process. Sits on the edge of the stage, legs dangling over the rim, fingers fidgeting with a thread on his jeans.

He’s so smug, watching the prettiest boy on the planet become the grumpiest goofball. Steve might look like an angel, but he has the aura of a full-bred Pomeranian left in the rain.

“I’m making a new rule!” Steve shouts from the back of the theater. 

“How ambitious of you!”

Eddie swears he can hear Steve growling in response, which fuck, that shouldn’t be such an adorably hot combo. But Eddie pictures the curve of Steve’s upper lip as he snarls and the zigzag of his arched eyebrows, and that’s exactly what it is. Hot. Adorable. Sensational.

Steve Harrington is a game of Mad Libs. Every adjective, every word that invokes head rushes and heart flutters, they’re all about him.

“As I was saying before you rudely mocked me,” Steve is in Eddie’s peripherals now, still stepping backwards. Toe to heel, hands loosely in his pants pockets. Not fair that he can make walking backwards look slick and cool. The nerve, the gall. “My new rule is that I get to ask you a question each time I get to the front.”

Eddie pulls one knee up to his chest, lets his chin rest over top of it. “Well then... ask away, o’ cursed one.”

Steve stops at the front of the stage. He doesn’t turn all the way around or start walking forward again. He turns just enough to look at Eddie. Focusing on him.

The sudden attention to Eddie’s face gets him all stuffy. He tries to hide the color that’s surely settled on his cheeks by digging one side of his face into his kneecap. It’s a dopey move. Too bashful, even for him.

“Alright.” Steve says. “How do you know so much about theater?”

An easy question with an easy answer. Relief surges through Eddie. “Most voice actors start out as stage actors. Not always, but a lot of us do. Gotta start somewhere, ya know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Steve nods, and continues with his second lap.

Once his footsteps are far away enough for Eddie to think properly, it dawns on him - they’re getting to know each other. Like authentic people would do.

Like… an actual date.

Shit, it’s been so long since someone in this artificial fucktown has wanted to know things about Eddie beyond hookups and screenames. A genuine moment was right in front of him, and he almost missed it.

That sobers him up. Eddie shoves away his need to Cause Chaos and accepts the sincerity. Gives it right back to Steve. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How did the modeling gig start?”

“Agents found my instagram again.” Steve replies. “Liked my pictures enough to offer me some shitty jobs to build up my resume. The usual story these days.”

“Right.” 

Eddie can’t fathom being that attractive. So attractive that people seek him out. 

Different worlds is an understatement. Different realms is more like it.

“Next question.” Steve says, arriving to the front again. “Would you rather visit the beach or the mountains?”

Eddie has to think about that one for a minute. He doesn’t take many vacations, can’t afford to on a single artist’s income.

But he remembers a trip to Colorado that he took as a teenager. Vaguely recalls not appreciating any of the landscapes because he was too busy texting his new girlfriend during the whole damn trip.

“The mountains.” Eddie answers, just as Steve begins to walk again. “The Rockies and I have some… unfinished business, if you will.”

Steve chuckles. “Sounds like there’s a story behind that.”

“Definitely.”

“Maybe I’ll get to hear it sometime.”

“If you want.” Eddie says, beaming at the implication. 

Steve’s footsteps stop. “Like I said on the phone, Eddie. Hearing you talk is...” The Earth feels silent. But the tension in Eddie’s ears is audible. “Well… I'm into it, I guess.”

Eddie has to switch knees to ease the thump in his dick. “And is Steve Harrington a mountain man or a beach bum?” 

“Depends on the season.”

“Such a diplomatic answer.” Such a vague answer too, Eddie thinks. 

“Okay. Last question.” Steve arrives at the front, shorter of breath than he was the first two laps. He hesitates for a second, then takes a couple of steps towards Eddie. “All those tattoos you have… did getting them done hurt?”

“Like a bitch.” Eddie bunches up his shirt to show off the sleeve of ink he has on his left arm. Took years for it to look this intricate. This complete. He’ll never get tired of staring at it. “Why? Itching to get one or something?”

“Nah. Never got the appeal of putting yourself through hours of pain or whatever.”

“It’s all about the art. The memories. The stories.” Eddie stretches out his bent knee. Lets it drop back down, relaxing into his explanation. “All of those things stitched into designs that I get to admire every damn day for the rest of my life.”

“Art, huh?” Steve takes a few steps closer, close enough to touch.

“What can I say?” Eddie is shamelessly studying the specks in Steve’s eyes. How all the colors blend and separate the closer he gets. Can hear himself grinning as he speaks. “I’m a big fan of gazing at pretty things.”

He’s so tempted to reach out, pull Steve in. Have him straddle his waist while they taste each other for hours.

But he’s still mooning over those eyes - the ones that deserve myths and legends to be told about them for ages. Centuries. Whichever is longer.

“Um.” Steve’s voice snaps Eddie out of his spell. “So… spit?”

“Sorry what?”

“The curse.” Steve says. “I’m supposed to spit on the ground, yeah?”

“Right, yeah. Uh huh.”  Eddie rambles, still internally choking on the fact that Steve just said spit to him. In public.

Steve backs away, puts some space between them. He begins making this nasty, gravelly side with his mouth. His jaw sags slightly as he does it, the lump in his throat bobbing the whole time. 

Eddie gawks, fully unable to look away while Steve swishes the spit around. Filling one cheek, then the other. He’s getting harder with every noise, every swish.

All at once, Steve forcefully hocks the stream of spit onto the ground. It goes diagonally, lands way closer to Eddie than he was expecting. Gets some goddamn distance, which makes Eddie’s eyes roll back. He’s pretty sure he lets out a wobbly ‘fuck’ at how obscene it all looks.

Steve wanders back over, avoids stepping in the wet mess he made on the ground. He places a hand on Eddie’s knee, works his way up the rough edges of denim.

Eddie’s vision is still spotty from what he just witnessed, so he decides to talk until everything clears up. Steve is into that right? The talking bullshit?

“There’s one more step to complete this.” Eddie watches the blurry outline of Steve’s hand rubbing his thigh, slowly blinking the image into full focus.

“And what’s that?” Steve’s voice is low, eyes fixed on Eddie’s mouth.

“You gotta…” Eddie licks his lip. Places a hand over top of Steve’s. Moving where it moves. Going where it goes. Buys himself some time to get the words straightened out. “You gotta kiss the nearest sewer rat loser.”

“And if I don’t do that?” Steve leans in till their noses touch. “Then what? The curse won’t be broken?”

Eddie nods. Only able to give a thin ‘mhmm’ in reply. He wraps two fingers around Steve’s wrist, the hand that's still trailing heat along his thigh. Needs to press against the pulse there, feel it jump. Spike.

Steve is so quiet. So controlled compared to his pulse. “Can’t have that then, can we?”

His lips part, hovering over Eddie’s mouth. The kiss starts out like that. Lips treading, only meeting between breaths. Neither of them pushing for more than seconds of warm contact, brief and sweet. 

That is until Steve’s free hand starts twisting into Eddie’s shirt, tugging him along by the soft fabric. Eddie sinks forward, dives fully into the kiss. He holds his breath or maybe it just gets caught in his lungs from how good it all feels. How Steve touches him like he's captured. How Steve kisses him like he’s dessert.

Eddie can't help but smush their lips together, forcing their faces closer than faces can scientifically be. He hears the wet smack of their tongues echoing underneath the amphitheater, waking his lungs the fuck up. Lets out the weakest sigh, hopes most of the sound gets trapped between Steve’s lips. 

Oh god, his lips. They’re fuller than Eddie’s, puffier now from kissing this hard. He wants to squish them around with his fingers, push them into pout so he can suck on them. Turn them nice and red. Eddie gets his hands tangled in Steve’s hair, knots them up enough to resist the lip-squishing temptation that’s burning him up inside.

“Here.” Steve exhales, hooks one of Eddie’s legs around his waist. 

That… okay, fuck. That’s so hot, so unexpectedly assertive and right. Eddie takes the hint, wraps his other leg around Steve. The heel of his scuffed boots is digging into Steve’s ass, not too hard, but enough to earn a dirty whine out of Steve. He pushes them together, clothes rubbing back and forth, scratching loudly. Muffles their mouth noises though.

“Can we…” Eddie wants to move this elsewhere, anywhere less public. He’s so fucking selfish for that. Needs to swallow every sound Steve makes, secure every expression with a lock. Nobody else should be allowed to see Steve like this besides Eddie.

He lets one hand unravel from Steve’s hair, glides down to the collar of Steve’s tank top. He yanks the material lower, presses his lips against the new area of exposed skin. Sips and sucks over that spot, claims it like he could extract a piece of Steve’s soul if he sucks hard enough.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” Steve responds, whimpering into the top of Eddie’s hair. Not entirely clear if he’s saying that out of pleasure, or agreeing with Eddie that they should relocate, but whatever. It's all too good to overthink the meaning.

Eddie unhooks his legs and kisses the deep purple mark he just made. Too fucking proud how easily the color spreads into reddish tones around the edges. 

His vision goes fuzzy again as he stands upright, has to blink away all the white specks of dizzy lust. Eddie offers a hand to Steve, but there’s no damn point for that. Steve is already hopping up onto the stage, makes it look effortless. Cool as shit.

“Follow me.” Steve grabs the crook of Eddie’s forearm, pulling him into the forested scenery.

As if there were any need for Steve to request that. Eddie Munson would follow Steve into the sketchiest alleyway of Hell, if it meant they could kiss like that some more.

They duck underneath a few tree limbs, weave through the maze of green. A few leaves get into Eddie’s mouth, but he hardly notices anything besides the dent that Steve’s fingernail is leaving in his arm. It would make the sickest crescent moon tattoo, inked and perfectly shaped. 

Damnit, Eddie’s thoughts are getting more fucked the deeper they hide. Steve slams Eddie against the trunk of a large tree. He realizes with the thud on his back that it’s plywood, not tree bark. Doesn’t care one bit if his shirt tears from the nails jutting out. Cares even less if he gets splinters from the slow grinding of their hips, hitching his shirt up further with every thrust.

“These are sexy.” Steve tugs at Eddie’s empty belt loop. Didn’t need an actual belt with how suffocating they are. “But they’ve gotta go. If that’s cool.”

“Get them the hell out of here.” Eddie is subconsciously thanking Chrissy for suggesting these stupid pants. She’ll be insufferable when he tells her about the jean's success rate. But right now? Worth it.

Anything seems worth it to have Steve popping the button out, ripping the zipper down. He’s so focused on getting these pants off that his forehead wrinkles, little beads of sweat gathering on his temples. 

Eddie can’t resist any longer, not after seeing Steve equally covered in desperation. He palms the front of Steve’s pants, wants to give him some relief for this valiant jean-removing effort.

“Steve.” Eddie huffs, brushes his lips over Steve’s ear. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.” He bites over the skin, nibbling carefully with the tip of his teeth.

It must tickle because Steve laughs while shrugging the jeans lower, boxers going with them. 

“So tell me then.” He kisses Eddie. It’s harsh, mostly panting into his mouth. Steve sinks to the floor and looks up. “Keep talking.”

This. This goddamn view. Eddie wasn’t expecting to get a view of Steve on his knees tonight. Wasn’t expecting his head to go limp, looking up at Eddie the way he eyefucked the camera on the day they first met. 

Only difference is, Steve’s not acting - not pretending to be needy.

He just is. He’s all of those coy and sinful things, exclusively for Eddie this time.

“Spit in my hand.” Steve stretches his hand up towards Eddie’s chin - gives him those big, midnight eyes that could make dormant volcanoes erupt instantly. Defy physics, end climate change. 

Eddie doesn’t use brain cells anymore, just does what he’s told. He gathers enough spit in his mouth, then watches it trickle out. Pooling in the center of Steve’s hand. It’s gross, sure. But also, it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

Gross and hot. Those sensations are fucking synonymous right now.

“Tell me, Eddie.” Steve gets his fingers around Eddie’s cock, the warm wetness makes it twitch in his hold. Apparently, no part of Eddie’s anatomy can believe this is really happening, not even his dick.

“Uh-”

“You said you’ve thought about it.”

“Lots.”

“So tell me while I get you off.”

“Oh.. god, okay.” And Eddie is good at that. Talking nonstop. Revealing all of his filthy secrets when asked so politely. He did it last night, slipped into his darker persona with ease so Steve could feel good.

But that’s just it, isn’t it? Eddie would say a flurry of fuckery for Steve Harrington’s approval. Get him to come until he shakes because Eddie wants that. Wants Steve to feel like liquid gold dripping between his fingers. Wants Steve to bend and break under his words and touch.

Talking dirty to get himself off is new territory. Eddie is a perpetual giver, loves being that way most of the time. Especially for someone as spectacular as Steve.

“Go ahead, babe.” Steve urges, licks the muscle of Eddie’s inner thigh till it tightens.

Right, he can do this. Even if he is short of breath. Eddie can be as confident as he was last night while Steve strokes him. “Thought about you since the commercial production.”

It’s a start. He bites his lip and keeps going. “All I could think about was… fuck. Opening you up. Leaving my fingerprints on your hips.”

“What else?” Steve purrs, working Eddie roughly with his spit-slick fingers. Sounds just as ruined as Eddie does.

“Wanted to fuck you in my lap.” Eddie pauses to moan, chest falling hard. He gets another glimpse of Steve’s hand on him, picking up the pace. A tempo so delicious that it shuts off Eddie’s judgment skills. His mouth running wild. “Let you ride me just like that. Use me till your legs go weak.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. His grip gets a little firmer, loosening up between strokes. Makes a fucking pattern out of it, has Eddie craving it. Needs more.

“And what if I wanted to fuck you, huh?” Steve’s question hits his ears like a whip. Cracking every nerve in Eddie’s body.

“I’d let you.” And it’s true, so very true. Eddie’s mouth is still going rogue, uttering truths like he’s on trial. Ready to testify all his desires to Steve. Sign his name on the dotted fucking line. “You could wreck me any way you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie seems to have found the secret words to Steve’s wild side. He’s taking Eddie down his throat, almost too fast. So fast that drool forms at the corners of his stretched lips, mouth gurgling already.

Eddie is swearing, not even real words half the time - just moans that sound explicit enough to get bleeped out on public access television. One hand goes over his own mouth while the other keeps combing through Steve’s hair.

It’s so damp now, sticking out erratically at the sides. Eddie curls a few strands over his thumb, watches the color drain from his finger. So demented, so good.

Steve is taking his cock so damn well, so Eddie tells him. Truly, all that he’s capable of is sex-drunk praise. Letting Steve know how gorgeous he is, how bruised his throat will be from sucking this much cock, how swollen and sore his lips look at this angle.

Eddie can’t stop because every phrase makes Steve get messier. Whining and whimpering each time he pulls off. Looking up at Eddie before taking him in again. Getting louder. Loud enough that sidewalk pedestrians definitely could hear him if they linger nearby for too long.

Eddie's knees buckle as he gets close. Doesn't have the energy to straighten back out, let alone warn Steve that he’s about to come. None of that seems to matter though. Steve nods twice, still bobbing around Eddie, like he just knows. Knows Eddie is there and is fucking willing to work him through it.

“Holy fuck, Steve.” Which yeah, Eddie gets it. Uttering someone’s name while he comes in their mouth is a little tacky and cliche. But saying it is involuntary, totally out of his control. Truthfully, Eddie relinquished all control to Steve hours ago.

Steve swallows, cleans Eddie with a few swipes of his overworked tongue like it’s nothing. No problamo. Like that’s the only way to handle the aftermath of an orgasm. In the most delightful way, or whatever musical shit Mary Poppins sings about. 

He gives the laziest, dreamiest grin as Eddie collapses down to his level. Both of them heaving, kissing with aching lungs. 

“Fucking fantastic.” Eddie whispers, brushes his knuckles over Steve’s pink-stained cheeks. Hopes his rings don’t hurt too much, absently forgetting how chunky they are.

Steve leans into the small touch. “Glad to hear it.”

“You’re fantastic.” Eddie clarifies. Means it more than any superstition he’s ever heard in his life.

He’s more than ready to get his hands all over Steve, make him come until he faints. But Steve is adamant that he’s chills with waiting. Says he actually enjoys the buildup from staying horny for hours and hours. Mentions something about that being a new discovery that he wants to explore. 

With Eddie. 

Steve fucking Harrington wants to explore new sides of himself with Eddie. That sends him reeling. Smitten and spiraling.

“Are sure?” Eddie paws at Steve’s hard-on, ready to jump in and save the day via orgasm.

“Very sure.” He lifts Eddie's hand away, snickering as he lays a quick kiss on each finger.  “I like being around you. That’s not gonna change overnight.”

“Like being around you too, Steve.” He takes Steve��s face into his hands, smushes it back and forth until Steve smiles. “Crazy about it, actually.”

The sun is low, barely any light left in the sky. But as Eddie holds Steve’s face, watching him smile, he notices that Steve is glowing. Not beaming, actually glowing. Even through the dimness of sky and the shadows formed by tree limbs, Eddie can see all of Steve’s features.

How is that possible?

They each look up and see it. Taking it in, this mysterious glow.

“Wow.” They say in unison, almost matching pitch. Matching levels of disbelief too.

Between the branches and leaves, they are tiny lights. Floating, orb-like lights. The brightness shining off of them is warm, soft on the eyes. They’re scattered high over the forested backdrop, orange and yellow hues twinkling against rich greens. 

Enchanting is the only word to describe this new addition. Incredibly and unbelievably enchanting.

“Set designer really popped off with this cover shoot, I guess.” Steve throws the theory out there, barely sounds like he believes it himself.

Eddie rubs his eyes. His voice comes out hushed, doesn’t really mean for it to but it does anyways. “Steve… those aren’t attached to anything. No strings, no wires. They’re just-”

“Floating?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Be serious, dude.”

And Eddie is. Completely serious. No jokes or snarky replies in his system right now. He points to the nearest light, then back at Steve. “You broke the curse, right?”

“Apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“So maybe Thespis is showing his forgiveness.”

“Who the hell is Thespis?” Steve pinches the skin between his eyes and groans - acting like Eddie’s hypothesis is giving him a migraine. Honestly, it might be. Wouldn’t be the first time Eddie worked someone up to the point of desperately needing tylenol.

He switches tactics, nuzzles into Steve’s shoulder with his nose. Attempts to lighten the mood with at least one joke in these trying times of bad luck and headaches. “Or he’s giving us his blessing for copulating on his holy grounds.”

The lights answer, flaring out all around them. They pulsate for a minute, maybe two, before returning back to their normal glow. Eddie tucks in a grin because Steve’s gorgeous little head looks like it’s about to detonate off of his gorgeous little body. So if he smiles right now, Steve will undoubtedly explode on this very flammable set piece.

Which would be a wicked awesome way to die. Post-orgasm, then up in flames. But alas, they have dinner reservations. It would be rude not to show up.

Really, it’s no surprise to Eddie that the ghost of theater is into partial voyeurism, signaling his approval with twinkling lights. Semi-public sex probably classifies as its own unique strand of performing art in Ancient Greece.

Or the dead dude is just into taboo stuff. 

If so, good for him. You do you, Thespis.

“Look.” Steve says, standing up. “Maybe it’s… an optical illusion.”

“Or magic.”

Steve lets out a deep sigh and offers his hand to Eddie. Pulls him up in one swift motion. Doesn’t let go of his hand afterward either. “How about we drop it and go get some dinner?”

Typically, Eddie is all about a verbal bloodbath. But Steve laces their fingers together, connects them in a way that has Eddie forgetting all about his need to be right. 

“Consider it dropped.”

The lights flicker out as they walk further away from the stage. And as they get into Eddie’s car, they go out entirely. Steve flicks on the radio, defaults to the classic rock station, which is playing “Magic” by The Cars.

“It’s a sign.” Eddie sings to the tune, poking a finger at Steve.

“Just drive, you big dork.” Steve swats him away, placing a hand on Eddie’s thigh while he drives. He turns up the volume, surprisingly knows every lyric by heart. Belts them out. Full on screams the parts he likes best.

Which Eddie totally can relate to. He wants to scream about all the parts he likes best about Steve. About their date that’s not even finished yet.

On their way to dinner, Eddie avoids the cracks on the sidewalk. On the drive home, he taps the roof of his car whenever he makes it through a yellow light at an intersection.

And when he drops Steve off at his apartment precisely at 11:11pm, he doesn’t say a damn word. Keeps his mouth shut, only opens it to kiss Steve goodbye (with tongue, obviously).

Sure, it’s just a dumb superstition, Eddie can admit that to himself.

But tonight… it feels like more than that.

More than a coincidence.

More than a good omen.

He sends a ‘got home safely’ text to Steve as he pulls into his designated parking spot. Totally obsessed with how fast Steve texts him back, it’s too fucking cute.

Steve: glad :) had a great time btw

Eddie: really?

Steve: yes *really*

Eddie: i had a great time too

He quickly taps the voice-record button before Steve can respond:

“Actually,” Eddie sneers. Uses the voice that Steve goes crazy for. “I had a magical time.”

Steve: ugh

Eddie: ;)

#steddie #steddie fic #this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator #thank you all for reading along on this series! #ao3 has alllll the tags if you're curious before reading #have a lovely day! xx

[certifiedcodbabygirl]

To Whisper Your Name pt.1

Konig x Reader Roman Goddess AU

Warnings: Violence ( minor character deaths), Roman deity inaccuracies, history inaccuracies, talks of SA 

Reader is loosely based on the Roman Goddess Felicitas (Goddess of good fortune and luck)

It is not rare for minor gods/ goddesses to go unthought of. Some rise to fame as others are forgotten. Not many remember the deities of flowers, trees, or other smaller things. They remember Jupiter, Neptune, Venus. The greats, the Gods. Smaller gods go about their lives enjoying the few who do remember them. The small alters the mortals create for them, adorned with what is associated with said deity. They get offerings, praise, songs sung in their name.

Others are forgotten. Some deities share common rulings and the more famous deity gets the praise. They get the offerings, the songs, the alters. They get the memories. The smaller deity is left to watch humanity progress, knowing they are nothing to them but a passing face. Some grow depressed, heartbroken to be forgotten. Some grow mad, killing those who pray to the more famous deity. Most are unhappy or indifferent. They are too out of touch with humanity, differences between God and mortals being too many to connect with one another. 

Despite all, you connect. The goddess of good fortune and luck, or as I should say, the small goddess of good fortune and luck. Throughout time, as you were forgotten and Fortuna rose to fame, you assimilated with the mortals. The fascination overtaking the grief pushed you to live among them. You aren’t well known among your village, just a simple face that passes by occasionally. Your home resides along the lake, a small and hidden house, property of an old man you met years before. You became like family to him, knowing who you are, he did his research. He offered you home, community, he offered you the human experience. 

It was a quiet life, predictable, quaint. You go to the fishing grounds, bless the unsuspecting fishermen. You do the same to the cloth weavers, the doctors, the children playing. None may know, but fortune is on their side. It was a simple existence, a comfortable one. 

A change happened at nightfall. Taking a late night walk was common, having no need for sleep. You’d walk a few miles, stay in a tree, maybe take a swim, then head back to your home. Tonight was no different. You opted to stay in a tree in a nearby forest, taking in the night sky, constellations seeming to taunt you with an unknown reason. Memories of when you were among the other deities fill your mind, a bittersweet taste left in your mind. Shouting and the crunching of twigs below rip you from your thoughts, whimpers from women below causing the hair on your arms to stand up.

Below, you see a small group of women with their arms shackled to a long chain. There are 2 men, daggers glinting in the moonlight. There’s no torch, no lantern, to light their way. It’s clear they are trying to be unseen, to steal these women. They adorn Roman clothing, as do the women, and seem to be heading away from the village. 

“Please I’m begging you, I have children! They have no father and no one to look for them” A woman begs shakily.

“Then we will be back for them. I know someone who would pay bronze for youth like them” A man cackles and shoves the woman for her noise.

“Oh Gods, Please save us, if you can hear me” A woman whispers, kissing her hands and raising them to the sky.

Her voice is so broken, as if she's unable to conjure hope. Heart aching for these women but unable to physically intervene, you bless them.

“Luck be upon you” Falls from your lips in the form of a whisper.

As they are almost gone, a branch snapping catches the men's attention. Heads whipping in the direction of the noise was their first mistake. A soldier in Roman attire sneaks behind the leading man, dagger cutting through his throat as if it were simply fat. 

The other three men turn and draw their weapons, preparing for attack. Their stance resembles that of a cornered, angry cat. One other soldier emerges from the dark. His towering frame, only being able to be described as a giant, unsheathed his sword from his holster. The glare from the moonlight shining off his sword gives an eerie and unsettling feeling in an already disturbing situation. 

“Give in and come willingly, or face the same fate as your foolish leader” His voice is higher pitched than expected, yet still effectively intimidating. His accent is foreign, sounding from the north. 

Ignorance clearly being their strong suit, the smugglers charge at the giant, only to be met immediately with a blade. The first one falls and seconds later, the other one is ripped through, practically in half, blood spilling like a never ending prayer. The men are ripped through like a tarp, eyes widening and dulling over.

 The last man remaining drops his weapon, falling to his knees like a worshiper to their God. The giant stalks towards him, gripping his hair and tilting him back. You can feel the fear radiating off of the smaller man's body, most likely praying to the gods as the women they stole did. 

“Your incompetence fails you. What were you planning for them?” He demands, gesturing to the women. They cower under the man's gaze.

The man remains silent, his mouth gaping like a fish, in search of words.

“Have mercy, please!” He begs, tears seeming to form.

The giant chuckles in an unamused manner, “Were you to have mercy on them? The gods have turned their backs on you. Now I will ask you again” He grips tighter, voice low and in a low growl, “What. Were. You. Planning? Who is your superior?”

The man refuses to answer and is swiftly met with a blade, as he serves no purpose. The giant and his partner turn their attention to the women, moving to remove their shackles. The women seem more frightened of them than they did the men that stole them. Perhaps it's because these men are soldiers, making it easy for them to be overpowered. 

“Where are you from?” The giant asks a woman as he removes the shackles. The woman says she was visiting her family in a nearby village when the men came. The other women say something similar.

“It seems they had a type. Easily able to make them disappear if they only have a couple connections in a different village.” The other man states, the giant nodding. 

They move the women to the same town you live in, keeping them in a new location until they find the leader of whatever ring they were getting sold into. You climb down the tree and quietly follow behind. The women are escorted to a separate cluster home and the men head to what seems to be a military station building.

Before the giant walks into the building, he looks behind him out of habit and spots you already looking at him. You quickly turn and walk away, not trying to attract unwanted attention. You make it to the lake before you hear a twig snap, someone being with you. Knowing who it is, you don't even bother to turn around, staying still. 

“Why did you run?” He asked in an accusatory tone, walking up to you. His frame towers over you, his shadow overtaking yours. You turn towards him, finally meeting his eyes. His face is covered in a cloth, his eyes being the only exposed area. His gaze is stern, like that of a king. 

“I've never seen a soldier like you before” you lie seamlessly, appearing innocent, “When you saw me, I worried I would possibly provoke you. Some soldiers around here hate when we stare”

He looks down at you, head slightly tilting. In mock or curiosity, you can't tell. There’s a long pause of silence, neither of you moving.

“Sir?” You ask quietly, “May I go back home now? I fear it will worry my family if I am out too late”

“You will meet me in the town square tomorrow at dusk,” He states, turning to walk away, “I will find you if you fail to come. Do not make that mistake, flos”

#call of duty modern warfare #cod x reader #konig #konig cod #konig x reader #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #cod konig #konig modern warfare #konig x reader goddess au #konig x reader history au #konig x reader roman au #konig x reader worship #konig x female reader #konig x fem reader #konig mwii #konig fluff

[itsonlydana]

"passenger princess" | chapter five

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 6,3k

❱ summary: a hot summer day & two conversations

❱ warnings: mature language + jokes, Legolas being a nuisance

❱ an: third attempt to post this.. man I hate tumblr sometimes. I just want to bless you all with this juicy chapter. I'll try to add the pictures in later

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FIVE: POOL

Time, as it often does whenever you want to hold on to it, passed in a rush of essays that needed to be written, lectures demanding attention, and the ever-present need to work as many shifts to be able to make rent.

Which, in fairness, were a lot less than many other students though it irked you all the same to stand behind the counter at the small yet overfurnitured café on campus and relish the the summer sun through a window.

"Could you be a dear and fill up the coffee beans?"

You looked away from a couple dozing on a bench to your co-worker Tauriel and nodded. She was a pretty woman, red-haired just like Gimli, and smart as hell.

She was funny too, and made the shifts you got paired together manageable and bearable.

You used the towel over your shoulder to wipe over your forehead, patting some of the sweat away that accumulated within seconds.

The sunshine and warm temperatures had been fun at first for they meant longer nights and earlier mornings, lounging around with sunglasses and opening the windows of lecture halls to fill the rooms with soft breezes and the chatter of the students hanging around on the lawn in groups and pairs.

The temperatures hadn't dropped though, they kept on rising and rising, the air got warm and stuffy and every breeze was like a soothing balm on sweat-coated legs, arms and faces.

You were thankful that the café had AC, a wonder of technology compared to the unbearable lecture halls and, to your pain, your dorm as well.

A week ago it suddenly stopped working and ever since then, you dreaded coming home and spent even more time at Legolas' and Thranduil's.

There were more overnight stays, starting with long nights watching movies between Legolas and Thranduil, or cooking dinner for when Thranduil came home from work and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you humming a song, flipping eggs and Legolas setting the table, snorting and rolling his eyes over the "disgustingly heart eyes" that his father supposedly threw at you.

Those stays ended with breakfast on the patio, fresh orange juice in jugs, coffee in mugs, the old radio that crackled every then and again and filled the warm air with the sounds of Queen, Oasis and The Cranberries as you snacked on apple slices and watched Thranduil read the newspaper, casting soft smiles over the edge of the paper whenever he caught you looking or let his hand brush your ankle as you popped your foot on the empty seat between you two.

If it hadn't been before, it was now established that you were wandering in and out of their house as if it were your own.

There was a pair of slippers next to Thranduils' "old man" Birkenstocks (Legolas' words), a second toothbrush next to Legolas' bamboo one, and the pillow you always cuddled on what now was your space on the couch.

Neither Legolas nor Thranduil minded.

That much was clear by Legolas' pure enthusiasm of having someone to spend the entire night gossiping under the canopy of his bed, chatting you an ear off over something.. no anything that Aragorn had done and said and my god, you even learned about the times your ruggedly handsome best friend had so much as breathed in Legolas direction.

And well for Thranduil you couldn't say that whatever was there blossomed into more than those looks and soft touches.

Nothing like that moment a few weeks ago happened again, and although the memory of that car ride and the teasing and tension as he had you pressed against the painting in the halfway was still fresh and sent thrills through you, there was a much more subtle string connecting you.

You always meant to confront him, to pull him aside and ask why the hell he wouldn't just tell you what exactly was happening.

Still, every time you were ready, Thranduil would disappear into his office or cease all touches and go back to that infuriating look of yearning all across the room without actually stepping into it.

You nearly lost yourself in this conflicting back and forth, and came close to overfilling the coffee machine with beans that would have been a pain to clean up so the jingle of the bell came right on time to snap you out of the little trance.

"Hi, could I please get one Grande Triple Sugar-Free Cinnamon Frappuccino at 100 degrees with Honey and one extra shot of Caramel and cream?"

"Oh my god," you whipped around to the counter and nearly threw your towel at the new customer, hand already balling the wet fabric into your fist.

"That's literally the worst fucking order I've ever heard," Tauriel barked out, slamming the metal cup for steaming milk onto the counter loud enough that another student shuffled right back out the door.

You would have felt bad if you weren't busy stalking toward the bar until it was just the wooden counter separating you from climbing over it, fists ready for swinging.

"Woow," Legolas, –a little dramatically– leaned back and stared at you with curled lips, "this how you treat your best customer?"

"No," you shook your head, "no, this is how we treat dickheads with annoying fucking orders!"

"I'll let you know that while I very much appreciate dick–"

"STOP!"

"As well as head–"

"Someone stop him, please," Tauriel cried out, scaring yet another woman with the alarmed tone of her voice.

"I don't particularly enjoy being called such a mean, mean word when I was simply trying to get a coffee"

Even on tiptoes, it was impossible to reach Legolas, as much as you tried to slap a hand over his mouth that now curved into a satisfied smile over the chaos he had ensured in the mere moments he was in the shop.

"Simply?" Tauriel sneered, still looking truly murderous which you couldn't blame her for.

Legolas order, for the atrocious sugar bomb, that it sounded like, came only close to the worst drink that went over to a customer today.

After mixing a Matcha frappe with raspberry, caramel, cinnamon, and whipped cream not only once but twice for the same dude, her reaction to another monstrosity was well in its right. "Simply?!"

Legolas scoffed, tapping his pink fingernails against the wood, contemplating something over in that thick head of his before running his tongue over his teeth, baring them in a grimace.

"Fine, then I'll take a triple espresso, cold and without ice. That's not too much to ask, right? Don't want ya hitting the walls because you have to do your fucking job!"

He then turned to the first years that had taken over one of the biggest tables right after you'd opened, their wide eyes showing their struggle of 'should we stay and watch? or go? what's going on?' while staying glued on where they had spent the last few hours loudly gossiping, though as Legolas grazed them with their attention, they fell silent.

"So rude, am I right?" he asked.

All five of the girls nodded their heads fast, not blinking once.

Legolas, not caring at all that he was ogled like a piece of meat, propped both arms on the table and rested his head on his folded hands.

"Now, when do you get off again?" He fluttered his lashes, ignoring the snort you let out at his words.

"Well, my shift ends in ten, if that's what you want to know."

"Great!" Legolas tilted his head, watching as you busied yourself wiping a few glasses, "Soo, d'you wanna hit mine and drown ourselves in the pool?"

He leaned forward, grabbing one of the sugar packets you gave out, flicking his finger against the upper half before ripping it open.

He then, like it was totally normal and didn't hurt your teeth by just looking at it, licked his finger and stuck it into the packet to suck his finger clean.

Eyes stuck on his hand, already reaching back into the sugar, you curled your lips, "Sure. The others there as well?"

He grinned a Cheshire grin, releasing the finger with a 'pop'. "Mhmm, Gimli said he's in for a late night over at his friends. Aragorn has some poetry writing to do but he wants to join us later.

You stared at him, waiting.

There was an obvious question left hanging between you, one that bothered you if not answered and here he was, acting like a total dick by avoiding your stare and thanking Tauriel for the to-go cup of pure caffeine.

"Well, I'm going to wait outside–"

"Legolas!" you hissed just as he jumped down the barstool, tipping his rosé sunglasses back onto his nose.

He paused, turning and smiling sugar-sweetly. "Yes? Was there anything else that you want to know?"

Scowling you draw your eyebrows together, munching on the words, pulling them between your teeth. "Ishegoingtobehome?" you rushed out, barely understandable for you and you doubted that anyone around you actually got what you had said, but Legolas' smile softened.

"Maybe," he said, quieter and with a hint of a sigh, "Who knows these days? He was early the last two days, wouldn't count on it though."

You tried your hardest not to let your smile waver.

It threatened to break down at the edges, the tell-tale signs of the wave of insecurity that always pushed onto you at the topic of Thranduil; nipping your cheeks and you crushed them with a hard click of your tongue, pushing them away into the darkest corner of your mind.

Legolas, observant little shit that he was, scrunched his nose and squinted over at you through his glasses.

"Meet you in fifteen?" he asked instead and after you nodded, he waved at Tauriel, "Good coffee! Lacks a bit in friendliness but I think I'll leave a good Yelp review nevertheless!"

The doorbell chimed as he left the café– a bounce in his step and lifting his face toward the sun as soon as he stepped outside.

He was, by all means, the loveliest friend you could've ever wished for.

You spent the last few minutes rushing iced coffee orders, serving them to students all heading out of the uni toward the longed-for weekend, and helping Tauriel clean up for the shift-switch.

The uniform was thrown into your locker, exchanged with a yellow summer dress that flowed right above your knee and would, despite the airy fabric and barely there straps, prove to be far too hot because as soon as you and Tauriel stepped outside, away from the air conditioning, the sultry air enveloped you in a gripping hug.

It was borderline unbearable if not for the sunnies that you quickly pushed on top of your nose and the iced coffee that Tauriel had quickly whipped up for you both while instructing the other shift on what to do.

You said goodbye to Tauriel when she climbed onto her bike and you turned to the car park where you made a beeline toward Legolas.

While you appreciated Thranduils sleek sports car, you absolutely loved the days Legolas pulled up in his Chevy convertible and drove around without the hood.

With the others around, you'd always get a backseat so that Aragorn could sit in the front but now that he wasn't there, you couldn't be bothered to open the door and jumped just right into the seat next to Legolas.

"Hi Asshole," you greeted him and placed your coffee in between your legs to fasten the seatbelt, "you're so lucky Tauriel didn't just kill you for that order."

Legolas scoffed, already fiddling with the console and turning the keys.

He threw one look over his shoulder, made sure that this time there wasn't a bike that he could crash into, and passed you his phone.

"For what?" he asked, "I just wanted to try something new, is that against the rules?"

"No," you entered his code, a combination of your birthdays, "you wanted to be a pain right before shift end and you know we know you don't give a shit about any rules."

"Oh sue me. Next time I want to have some fun I'll post a warning beforehand. What the fuck are you doing?" Legolas turned his head as you tapped onto one of the many playlists he had and a soft guitarre song started playing.

He was met with the largest smirk on your face, eyes gleaming full of mischief.

"Ayo, my my… Las, care to tell me what I'm seing right now?"

Your only goal had been to tease him for the playlist titled 'For Las' but the further you scrolled, squealing and giggling, the more Legolas blushed, blushed!

"Oh my god, please–" he begged and tried to reach over though you giggled and shook your head.

"Legolas, who… who made this for you?" your eyes widened, taking in a lot of songs mouth agape, "This is twelve hours long!"

The blonde, who was now nearly as pink as the glasses on his face, pressed onto the pedals a bit harder, flying around a corner and onto the highway.

"Yes? And? You have playlists that long as well." He was evading the answer, fiddling with the console to overpower you, "I even made you one playlist that long!"

You snorted and turned the music louder on the phone, "Legolas, the playlist you made me was full of kpop and Kesha. This–" you pointed at the phone screen, showing him the cover that was a picture of himself, snapped on some forest ground and his blonde hair in disarray, "–this is not some platonic shit."

"What? D'you really think that?" Now, instead of just looking like he wanted to die out of embarrassment, he pulled a face as if you'd told him you believed the earth was flat; in total incredulity.

"Legolas–" you stared at him, still holding up the phone, "Legolas this is twelve hours full of what.. Hozier, Lord Huron.. there's even some Mitski and Lana Del Rey."

"Yes?" Legolas glanced over to you, his long manicured fingers drumming the steering wheel in that nervous habit of his where he couldn't, for the life of his, be still for just a second and think.

Or maybe stop thinking.

"I'm going to ask you one more time," you said and for his sake, switched to another playlist, one that ended his suffering, "who made this? This says it's by your account but I know.. I know you're not that self-centered."

He gripped the wheel even tighter, white knuckles protruding as he lifted one hand to bite onto his pointer finger.

Not once had you seen him this out of it and it made you wonder how you must've looked before you'd told them all about Thranduil.

Had you been this obvious as well?

Fidgeting whenever his name was dropped or Legolas had asked you if you could set another plate for his father?

Close to fainting just because Thranduil would pick you up?

"Promise me that you won't laugh?" he asked and you knew he was serious.

This was more than jokes, this was top-secret-bedroom-whisper-secret-level, and you reached over to pull his hand away from his mouth, linking your own pinkie with his.

"Promise."

"It's from Aragorn! Aragorn wrote me a letter with the songs listed as well as the Polaroid he made when we were out for a walk at that one party at Bilbo's, y'know? And fuck, do you really think that this is romantic and a hundred percent sure this couldn't be a 'hey buddy, here're some tunes that I found cool and that reminded me of our friendship, have a nice day dude' playlist!?"

Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, led to the scream you let out as the words burst out of Legolas like a balloon popping under pressure, rushing out all at once and leaving you to bounce around as good as you could in the car.

The car that had no roof and thus drew all kinds of looks from other drivers onto you shrieking.

"Aragorn made this? Are you kidding me?" you yelled, already slapping Legolas' arm that wasn't on the wheel. "No fucking way you looked at the songs 'Francesca' and; Jesus there's even a song literally titled 'I'm in love with you'," you paused, once again boxing his side, "and you thought this was platonic?"

"Maybe?" Legolas shrugged meekly, glancing over to you over his glasses, "I dunno, it's Aragorn. Why would it ever be romantic?"

"Because," you made sure to emphasize your next words carefully, "because you're both idiots and I love you- I love you very much but you both are so very stupid and so very blind."

"You're one to talk," he grumbled and smoothed some flyaway hairs behind his ear so as to not eat them due to the wind. "Were you not the one just asking me if Ada is home or not because you two can't get your shit together?"

It didn't suit you at all that he suddenly turned the conversation around to you, when you were just talking about Aragorn, very potentially not only reciprocating Legolas' feelings but trying to reach out to him as well, to shine the spotlight somewhere where you preferred darkness as long as you weren't sure yourself.

You buried your teeth in your lower lip, pushing it out into a pout, before turning your head away from your best friend.

"Look," he said faintly, resting one hand on your leg, "this isn't easy for me as well. He's my dad and your my best friend in the whole world. But watching you two is so hard and not for the reasons you may think. Of course, I don't get why you would choose him of all people, we could've made fantastic-looking babies as well–"

You involuntarily hiccuped a laugh, rolling your eyes, "Sure, keep telling yourself that lover boy."

Legolas grinned, though returned to a more serious expression as he started tapping away on the wheel again, "But you do like him and I know Ada so I know he likes you two. He's.. well he's an idiot like his son and would rather perish than admit to having feelings like anyone else. That would mean he needs to open up, to let someone into his heart."

Legolas turned the car onto a quieter road, driving past trees that threw their shadows onto your warmed skin and filtered the sun through their thick green foliage.

"I'm willing to do that," you said after a while of thinking. "For him, I mean. I'm ready to work on us, to take on every hurdle together, and to talk. Gods, I really want to talk to him."

You let your head fall back against the headrest, closing your eyes to watch the black and golden points dance over shut lids.

Mentally you were preparing a list of all the things you wanted to tell Thranduil, firstmost your feelings, yes, but you also wanted him to know your favorite color, your first memory of him, how much you loved to dance and that you never threw away movie tickets.

You wanted to ask him on what side of the bed he slept in, which countries he had seen, what his favorite animal was.

"By the way," you blinked open both eyes, meeting Legolas' gaze, "talk to Aragorn, please. The man needs to hear you say that you like him the same way."

Legolas relaxed with a chuckle, "Gimli's going to hate us."

Laughing you could do nothing but agree with him.

The rest of the drive is all the usual, the sincere and deep talks pushed away for jibs and jokes, complaints about work and moans about Professors who think summer break is to prepare with even more coursework.

You didn't mention the playlist, Legolas stayed silent about Thranduil, a mutual agreement.

The sun was impossibly high as Legolas parked his Chevy next to the other (empty) spot, beating down on you in a manner that screams for sunscreen and…

"Pool!" Legolas yelled and jumped out of the car. "Water! Refreshments!"

You both raced over the gravel path, not bothering walking through the house but rather dashing to the gate in a wooden fence, that led directly to the garden.

Even while you were still running, Legolas tore off his tanktop, throwing it away to land somewhere next to the seating area, flinging his shorts onto a lounge chair, and you followed his example.

You kicked your shoes away to run through the soft grass and at the sight of the shimmering pool, wrestled the sundress over your head.

Glad that you had the foresight to wear a bikini instead of normal underwear, you don't think twice before pulling your knees to your chest and crashed into the ice-cold water at the same time Legolas fell into the water face first.

For a bit, you two did nothing but splash around, using feet and hands and every unfair method you could think of trying to get the other to swallow as much water as possible.

Legolas, once again having quite the advantage due to his height and slender figure, got so good at diving under you and pulling you down, that after an hour of coming up sputtering and coughing, you were the one raising the metaphorical white flag.

After a short refreshment break consisting of (unchlorinated) water, Legolas went to grab two inflatable floaties from the pool house, throwing one in your direction before making himself comfortable on the green one.

"This is the life," he sighed, hands crossed behind his head.

You found not one bit of motivation to answer him using anything else but a drawn-out "Mhmm" as you laid down on your stomach, face hidden in the crook of your arm.

"I think, I'll take a nap." Legolas yawned but already sounded very far away for your eyes closed as well, exhaustion of the day and the fight seeping into your bones.

It was the combination of the gentle rocking of the inflatable, the water splashing in the background, muffled by your ear pressed against your arm, the sun drying your wet body with her warm rays that sent you into a blissful rest, floating away in the pool as well as your dreams.

When you awoke, it was to the gentle caressing of water running through your hand as well as someone blocking out the sun.

"Las," you mumbled, "Laaas, go away"

Nothing happened, the shadow casted onto you didn't move an inch.

"'M getting up cranky," you threatened as a last attempt, groaning into your skin as the last bit of sleep slipped away from you. "Now you've done it– I hate you."

"And I probably deserve it." The voice that finally piped up was, to your absolute horror, not your best friend.

Immediately your head shot up, nearly tearing some muscle as you craned it up… and up the body of the man standing in front of the sun.

Golden light fell onto strong shoulders, creating a halo that made it very hard to look at Thranduil without needing to squint your eyes against it.

Seeing your struggle and taking pity, Thranduil crouched down to your height. "May I?"

Incapable of saying anything, you nodded. Your mind was caught on the last threads of sleep, drowsiness tugging on your consciousness that was trying its best to keep up with the current happenings.

Thranduil let out a sigh as he sat down on the edge, not caring the slightest bit that his shorts were getting wet, and kicked his long legs into the water, sending ripples toward where you floated.

He did not attempt to start a conversation, instead, he just leaned back, large hands spread on the stone behind his back, his face angled just the right way for you to know his eyes were not completely shut but focused on you through lowered lashes.

There wasn't a need to mention how gorgeous he looked, bathed in sunlight and the buttons of a moss green linen shirt that much undone, that you could follow the line of his throat down to a small peek of a rosy porcelain chest.

You felt your throat clog up at the sight of him, effortlessly graceful and despite the humid air, not breaking a single sweat.

You quickly lowered your head again, burying your nose in your arm to not get distracted by his pine wood perfume that wafted over to you.

"Can we talk?" Thranduils voice was low, a soft rumble that barely topped the gurgling and splashing of the water.

"Mhm," you cleared your throat, "I don't know, can you? Kinda felt like you lost any ability to, or maybe that was special treatment for me." You let the words wander away and glared at him in a manner that screamed 'Give me a break'.

"Point taken."

"That wasn't nice, Thranduil."

"I know."

"Good. Did Legolas send you?" You moved your head, scanning the pool for any sign of your best friend but except for you and Thranduil and some bees buzzing and butterflies fluttering in the air, there was no one else. "Where is he?"

"Inside. Came in when Aragorn rang the bell and after he nearly killed me with one murderous look, they both disappeared up the stairs."

"Ah," the disappointment seeped into the single expression, weighing down onto your shoulders, "So you came to talk because Las told you."

"No, not at all!" With an alarmed expression on his face, Thranduil leaned forward, resting one hand on his broad thigh instead of the stone. "I understood I needed to talk to you soon. Legolas just kicked my ass one more time. I've thought of nothing but you for the last few days."

The blood immediately rushed to your cheeks at this statement. "You're thinking about me?"

"Constantly. How could I not?"

"I wasn't sure," you admitted quietly, "after you... well, after you drove me home the last time, everything changed somehow."

Saying what you felt had never been easy for you, admitting things meant exposing yourself and that feeling of pure nakedness when the other person saw you, heard what you were revealing like little messages encoded through meter-high walls, it always brought that dizziness with it.

Fears that the other person wouldn't like you if they found out you weren't perfect, that they might realize how your flaws and imperfections didn't fit their expectations.

You'd rather cram the truth behind well-chosen and hopefully satisfying answers that covered up the cracks.

"I was a daft idiot," Thranduil said and, to your surprise, let out a shaky laugh that sounded more fearful than anything else.

You raised a quizzical eyebrow, knowing better than to interrupt a man wanting to explain himself.

Mulling over his words, Thranduil dropped one hand into the water, swirling it back and forth in even rotations of his wrist.

"This–", he lifted it, dripping droplets onto his beige shorts as he pointed to you and then to him, "this caught me unexpectedly. For years I blocked off any attempts of lo– of liking someone. First I blamed it on the need to focus on Legolas, his upbringing and when he was old enough to become completely uninterested in his old Ada and reached the top shelf without me needing to lift him onto my shoulders, then I searched for other reasons. My job doesn't allow much time, they would just want my money, it's just not the right time..."

While he talked, the flow of the water had carried you close enough to him for the pool float to dodge the edge of the pool. You didn't attempt to push yourself back into the water.

Instead, you reached one hand over, holding onto the warm stone next to his thighs.

"This– you, my dear, dropped onto me so out of the blue that I realized I do not have the skills to converse as easily as you may hope."

His jaw muscles protruded as he lowered his head, the tip of his ponytail falling onto his chest.

Taking that bit of courage you found in you, you let the stone go, instead laying one hand gently onto his toned thigh next to his hand.

The muscles flexed as soon as you touched the pleasantly warm skin, moving under your palm in uncontrolled spasms that you ignored for the sake of both your minds right now.

Now that you had some stability, you tried to sit up. Doing your best to hold your balance while the wobbling made it difficult, you drew your legs to your chest and then straddled the pool float, huffing out a breath full of tension.

Thranduil, halfway through your struggle grabbed one corner and prevented you from drifting away.

"There," you said and blew some hair out of your face, "now, this is hard for me too."

As you sat up, you saw Thranduil's gaze snap up to you, or more explicitly; to your whole body.

There was a hitch in his chest, a gulp so loud it would've been embarrassing to draw attention to but while you make a point of focusing on the conversation, you can't help or stop the blush that spread over your whole body, a heat that traveled faster than the sun and that left you stuttering for the right words.

"And well, I– what I meant was that I don't expect a lot, just for you to be there. Don't leave me behind in the unknown. I.. I'm in zero gravity space here, floating around in these endless questions." You gestured a lot with your hands, fiddling with the bow on your bikini top, smearing some water over the heated plastic in front of you, anything to calm your racing mind.

You were, like you said, out of your own depth and that not only came from Thranduil being different than other guys but also because your feelings were so much grander than anything else you've felt before.

Not just lust.

Not just attraction.

Not just admiration.

When Thranduil spoke up again, his voice was firm; calm, quiet, meant for just you, and firm: "I'm here and I'm in, one hundred percent of me."

"Good," you whispered, "Me too."

In that single moment, just thirteen words and a trembling of lips, a wave of relief washed over you, freeing you from the weight of countless sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, worried that all of this would be for nothing.

Thirteen simple words, mere letters strung together in infinite combinations, yet in that particular arrangement, they held the power to soothe your soul like nothing else could.

There was something in your chest that snapped, a tight leash of worries that had been bound around your heart, layering that precious muscle in a protective case so as to not get hurt again.

He visibly relaxed at that, not entirely, but there was a drop in his shoulders, a shift in his thighs; physically opening up to you and not just emotionally.

You decided to do the same and smiled.

"So," you started, "now that's finally out of the way. Was this the reason why you got all sassy and distant?"

He huffed, ever-attentive eyes roaming over the wide slopes and curves of the garden behind you as if there was an easier answer out there that he could offer you.

But you knew, without turning around, there was nothing else except for flowers and trees, maybe some hidden wine bottles that Legolas and you had snuck out and buried as time capsules right next to the patch of vegetables.

"Sassy, you say," he pondered, and you too thought back to the snippy comments that he had thrown Legolas's way when he came down the stairs and found Legolas rummaging through a box of old movies to watch with you; coming on rather defensive over movies you'd watched together, the three of you, two nights ago.

Or the night he knocked on Legolas's door to send you both to bed like you were two children and all you did was stare at each other in disbelief.

He must've come to the same conclusion as you, he pulled a very apologetic face that was downright hurtful to watch. "Oh, yes. I may or may not have been a total ass, haven't I?"

You agreed with a nod. "Total ass, like stage five. Me and Legolas were already thinking you'd robbed a bank or planned to overthrow the government with all the mood switches you'd going on."

There was a playful tone in your voice, despite the underlying accusation though you couldn't be bothered to force him to explain anything if he didn't wanted.

What he just said, the admission of attraction was more than you'd thought you got today, so you decided to let him off easy.

"Darling," he smirked, throwing the teasing right back at you, and you swallow loudly at the nickname, "I'm rich and a lawyer. If I wanted to lead this country I could simply pay for that seat." The way he said that completely self-assured in his abilities... or well... his bank account, made your stomach flip.

It took a total amount of five slow and counted breaths before you went back to thinking straight, or let alone to speaking again.

"I offer you my support in exchange for clearing my college debts. Sounds quite fair to me," you stated.

"I can just pay them off for you," Thranduil offered.

"Sure," you burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," Thranduil insisted but was met with a quick headshake from you. "Okay. But, and don't shoot me this look, the offer stands. You don't have to accept it right away, not in the near future. It's there, okay? Just like I am."

The words lingered between you, folded into your chest directly beneath your heart, which seemed to have no intention of stopping its erratic beating.

You were aware that if Legolas had made the same offer, you would have reacted differently—probably lashed out at him. After all, you weren't a charity case.

You worked not only to finance your university and room but also your free time, just as you had planned long before the Oropherion household showed you how easily some things came with money.

That's exactly what you would have told Legolas, perhaps adorned with a few curses or insincere insults, a bit offended until you both apologized.

Although Thranduil's offer hit the same sore spot and your ego, you couldn't help but ponder how it would feel to be cared for by him.

"I neither accept nor decline, okay?" You nailed him with a glance at the ground, through which he raised his hands in defense with a smirk. "First, I want a pony, one with a beautiful, long, blonde mane, because you never allow us to braid yours." Admittedly, you had never asked, but that didn't matter in this playful banter.

"Just–" Thranduil laughed huskily, "Just take it easy on this old man, alright?" Both of his hands grabbed the pool float with ease, pulling you into the open space his spread legs provided.

Your knees touched his, water sloshing up.

"Huh?" you pretended to look around, already breathless despite not having moved an inch.

"What are you doing?"

"Well–" you said, knee nudging his playful, "I'm looking for the old man. Wouldn't want some creep staring over the hedge."

Thranduil rolled his eyes slightly and raised one of his eyebrows. "I can see," he began, shaking his head with a harsh laugh, "you firecracker are about to drive me out of my mind."

You grinned cheekily at him. Your body unconsciously leaned forward, propped up on your elbows, you looked up at him and pursed your lips. "We never talked about playing fair."

He followed your example, his upper body leaning down until his face was mere inches away from yours.

This must be it, you think, taking him in one last time, rosy plush lips opened slightly, piercing eyes searching your face, blonde hair framing strong cheekbones, and you let your eyes fall close.

There was water rushing, the gentle bobbing on top of it, the wet coolness nipping everywhere except where his knees touched yours.

You leaned forward some more, yearning to finally learn what he tasted like, to memorize the burning touch of his lips on yours.

The inflatable shifted as he let go, opting to instead hold you close by laying his large hands on your neck, nearly spreading his fingers all around and you knew he felt your breath hitch and you suspected he must've felt the nervous flutter of your pulse like a hummingbird as well.

You awaited the kiss with bated breath.

It didn't come.

The subtle shift in weight, as you inched closer to Thranduil, proved to be the catalyst that upset the delicate equilibrium of the pool float.

In an instant, it slipped between your legs, and the last thing you felt was the tight grip of Thranduils hands on your shoulders.

The subsequent splash echoed with a deafening resonance, the world above the water muffled as you found yourself submerged, cut off from the surface.

Thranduil's body followed swiftly, his legs intertwined with yours, forcing him to tip underwater as well.

When you gasped for air, your brain not quite realizing that there was no air, not only did you swallow a mouthful of chlorinated water, the jerk of your knee came also close enough to kick him into the groin.

Thankfully you only got his thigh.

The water embraced you, surrounding you with playful gurgles and chuckles, as if nature itself joined in on the amusement of your unexpected descent.

Thranduil was the first to react.

His hands reached out, a strong arm securing around your middle, pulling you close. With a powerful push of his feet, you both burst through the water's surface.

"Fuck," you sputtered, the sting of chlorine in your eyes forcing you to shut them tightly against the blazing sun. "Fuck, shit, fuck."

Your flailing feet found purpose when Thranduil murmured, "Hold on, I've– I've got you!" Responding instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him.

Just before he hoisted you out of the water and placed you on the sun-soaked stones, you registered the firmness of his chest, the smoothness of his skin, and the subtle flex of every.single.muscle at play.

Coughing loudly and deeply from the shock and the overwhelming intake of water, not intended to be enjoyed in such excessive amounts, you spat some out onto the grass next to you.

"Fuck," you repeated. The stress of the situation crashed onto you, leaving you to cough and sit in the embarrassing position where you could only blink and take in a mushy version of Thranduils handsome face peering up at you.

"Hey, it's alright, you're alright." His voice pulled you back, calming the scratch in your throat.

"What– how?" you wheezed, body curling until you could rest your head on his broad shoulder. It was no comfortable position with him kicking the water to hold himself upright, hands holding onto your thighs and you bend nearly in half, but it helped.

The soothing circles his thumb drew over your skin, the reassuring words he mumbled.

"I'm so embarrassed, oh my god," you whined. "I can't believe this happened."

"Hey–" His large palm cupped your cheek, tipping your head back to lock his eyes onto yours. "Hey look at me." His fingers stroked over your temple, slightly pressing into it. "You could've hit a much worse spot than you did."

You snorted, "Yes, then I would've probably drowned myself."

The same moment you wanted to try again, chasing that adrenaline high, the loud "What the fuck happened?" of Legolas sounded over to you and all you two could do was burst out into laughter.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil

[cackt0]

Some ideas! (Doodled this yesterday night pls dont judge)

Soooooooooo

This is kinda what I have in mind for Raven's design in the fanfic 'Starblind' made by @dancingthesambaa !

What I went for is basically a kinda flowy look on her, as if she didn't have a definitive form. I do like to think the outlines of a 'young woman with eyes aged beyond comprehension', per say. This is more of a doodle, so I didnt encapture her exactly. But I would like to think that her entire being is constantly like moving, and her hair flows as if not affected by any gravety whatsoever, fading at the tips as more grow. No idea how to explain it, but I like to think that this would kind of be like what a god would look like. A confusing, terrifying but at the same time incredibly beautiful; no, incredibly *goregeous* being. Ever eternal, ever omnipotent. I also would like to think that she'd be able to pass through Leo, phasing through his body with him only being able to feel the brush of her cold (or warm? Still not decided) hair before she disappears completely. Man. I've thought WAYYY too hard about this. AND, I may be very very wrong with this direction, but I kinda hc that she's, in a way, Leo's mother. Cause like- she blessed him, she's the mother of his ability, and his ability is apart of him! Idk, just really like the idea even if it doesnt become canon (I dont mean as in she would be with the fam and be his 'mom' or something but more of like the titles of mother or father given to certain gods when they had kids with humans. Like a demigod from ancient Greece, only being abke to visit the one they call their 'parent' very rarely. The role never really fitting all the way, but still being a fact nonetheless)

Sorry, rambled lmao. But yeah! @dancingthesambaa, if there's anything you think I should add to her design I've forgotten about, please do tell me! I wanna do more drawings but for that I'd rather have a more solid take on the way she appears. Thankyouuuu <333 (Oh and if you dont make the fam meet them soon, I might have to make COMICS to sustain my mental health. Imma STEAL YOUR FANFIC /j) but like actually, might do small comics

See yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa :))

#starblind #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #leo rottmnt #rottmnt fic #leosagi #rise of the tmnt #doodles #art

[zodiacs-web]

hi enlightened person, how are you? I would like to apply for Record of Ragnarok (more specifically, Buddha,Shiva,Zerofuku,Hares And Hades. with a human(woman) who is a famous empress/queen/warrior who is very well known.more, despite being an exceptional swordswoman, she is very kind and shy. I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my mother tongue and Google is not 100% reliable. God bless you and have a nice day!

Shy Queen Hcs

𖥔 Buddha/Shiva/Zerofuku/Hermes x Fem!Reader

𖥔 What's in the web: Established relationships, fluff, implied romance

𖥔 A/n: Sorry if it took too long. Have a good day as well!

Buddha

Despite everything about your outer appearance blaring danger from all corners, Buddha holds no fear as he approaches you. Only for you to stutter on your words when he makes a conversation. He only watches in delight that some tough looking girl is shy, what a sight to see.

Very patient with you and sometimes likes to tease you. Of course he switches from the two from time to time, but overall he's very fond of your presence. He learned that you have someone who speaks for you when it comes to official business unless it requires you to speak.

Doesn't necessarily want to spar with you unless he's bored or gets curious about your swordsmanship. He hasn't met any Queens in his time that can pull off stunts that you can so it entices him to learn more about you. To get closer.

Your still shy around him, but don't mind having a conversation with him. As time draws near your fight, you can help but feel a bit sad. But don't worry, Buddha assures you that you'll win your fight and come right back to him.

Shiva

He is very on edge having this blaring danger walk up to him yet laugh at how shy you are when initiating conversation. Stuttering on your words and looking away in fear as he watches with a smirk on his face.

Eyeing every piece of jewel that twinkles adorned on your clothes. He realizes you were a queen right off the bat asking questions like how you became a queen, how you knocked competitors off. Will definitely try to get you to be more confident and beat other people's asses.

Very loving as in teasing you every second he has saying it's to build confidence yet he's thriving off your pout. It takes you a while to open up but now he's learned how good of a swordsman you are. Asking to watch you train so that maybe one day both of you can go at it and maybe defend himself against armed foes.

Your a bit more relaxed with him yet still not keen on conversations. You love spending your time with him and so does he. So, when it is time for your fight he's right there watching and making sure that your alive so he can be near you once more.

Zerofuku

Ah Zerofuku! When he first met you, he was terrified to say the least but when he saw you in your state his fear turned to compassion. He was kind enough to direct you where you needed to be.

He likes spending time with you, going to little shops in villages and stopping at food stands. Playing games and wondering off to meet with different people. He loves interacting with different people and he enjoys doing it with you.

Gets interested watching you train, he sometimes can't keep up with your moves and has to ask what you did afterwards. Decorates your sword with all sorts of nick knacks that has you overjoyed.

He likes hugging you every second he can get and often praises you for your kindness. Has little brother energy that you can't help but be overprotective of him. Your grateful to have him by your side even if he's much farther away from you, his grace will never leave.

Hermes

Very observant to say the least. Wasn't one bit afraid of you but was interested in the attire you wore. So when he realized you were shy he actually took his time with you and directed you where you needed to go.

His interest in you grew when he realized that the shy you was a queen. Leading him wonder how you managed to gain that position considering your time was rough. He loves praising you when you retell your story of you came to be.

Loves your flustered state and often teases you when training. At first he wanted to analyze your movement and swordsmanship yet turned into seeing if you can focus on your training if he was throwing compliments left and right. You could not.

You've come to be a bit more relaxed when he's around. Never shying away from his grace and passion to be near you. Often tries to boost your confidence. He just adores you and that won't stop him from his teasing. Even during your match, he'll be supporting you in secret.

#zodiac's web #snv shiva #snv x reader #ror shiva #ror buddha #ror zerofuku #ror hermes #snv hermes #snv buddha #snv zerofuku #snv zerofuku x reader #ror buddha x reader #ror x reader #shiva x reader #buddha x reader #zerofuku x reader #hermes x rerader #ror hermes x reader #snv hermes x reader #fem reader #fem!reader

[f10werfae]

Protector, mine

pairing: BF!Chris Evans x GF!Reader

summary: Hi! If you take requests can you write one where reader is home alone when there's a break in while Chris is out with friends?

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Chris Evans Masterlist, full masterlist, Taglist form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/n padded around their open pan kitchen gracefully, her boyfriend Chris pressing a soft kiss to her lips, his hands placed onto her chin. “I’ll be back before midnight baby, alright? Ring me if you need anything, I love you so so much” He whispered against her lips, kissing both her cheeks then her nose, causing it to wrinkle adorably in response.

“Okayyy Chris, go enjoy yourself and don’t get too drunk. I’ll be fine, now go you big goof” Y/n laughed pushing her man’s hands from her waist and pushing him towards the front door, even handing him his baseball cap on the way out.

'Finally’ She thought to herself, a night just for her to relax by herself, and of course her baby Dodge who was now looking up at her with his puppy eyes. Giving him a scratch to the ear she went off to her first mission, a lavender scented bubble bath with a lush bath bomb, something Chris had specifically bought for her.

God was he smitten with her. His friends were even surprised he came out tonight, ever since they had started dating 2 years ago he had been on his knees for her basically, he was definitely the happiest he had ever been. Taking off her clothes Y/n settled into the steaming hot water, her hair tied into a bun onto the top of her head, her skin turning in the purple water.

It all started when Chris came into her family’s restaurant that Y/n was helping out in over the Christmas holidays, and Chris couldn’t help but obviously ogle the gorgeous woman in front of him. Her beautiful eyes and caring demeanour immediately attracted him, heck on their first date he even made her a bouquet out of books. Books she had mentioned that were on her reading list during one of their first conversations-

*BANG*

Interrupting her daydreaming session, Y/n sat up a bit more in the tub, but this time more alert. Silence filled the bathroom,

Chris would definitely have called up to here by now?

Not having a good feeling whatsoever, Y/n stood up and put on Chris’ white fluffy robe that she tended to steal often. Dodger’s poor whines calling at her through the en suite bathroom. Opening the door, she knew something was wrong when she heard multiple male voices booming from the downstairs. Her heart basically dropped to her pussy, bless her soul.

Within seconds she went from a state of panic to pure fear, what the fuck do you even do in this situation? What if they were armed?

Hearing footsteps come up the house, she backed herself and Dodger back into the bathroom, turned off the lights and settled them into the corner furthest away from the door. Her hands were shaking as she texted Chris

Y/n: There’s people in the house Chris, I don’t know what to do but i’m calling 911. Do not call me or else they’ll hear

Not even waiting for his response she straight away called 911, and those few seconds of ringing were the worst few seconds of her life. Poor Dodger was whining at his momma, his snout booping her arm to hide under it himself. Y/n was shivering, cursing at herself for putting her clothes into the washing machine before getting into the bath. Now she was stuck and practically naked.

911: 911 What’s your emergency

Y/n heard whispers and shouts coming from the direction of their bedroom, surely they were close by, fuck sake.

Y/n: There’s people that have broken into my house, please come quickly, i’m at (insert address)

911: Ma’am who else is there with you? I’ve dispatched a team, so stay on the line with me

Y/n: U-uh just me and my dog, my boyfriend’s out right now but I’ve let him know-

*Rattle*

Y/n: please please hurry they're trying to get into the room im in

Y/n felt herself freeze, multiple bangs were thrown against the tough bathroom door, which she could only assume was them throwing their shoulders against it; accompanied with the door knob rattling every few seconds.

911: Ma’am they’re on their way I promise, stay on the line with me, you don’t have to talk but stay on the line

Y/n switched the tabs on her phone and saw the spam texts from Chris

Chris: babe what do you mean?

Chris: Hello?

Chris: HELLO

Chris: Did you call 911?

Chris: Y/n are you safe?

Chris: I’m on my way.

And that text was sent 8 minutes ago.

Y/n: Dodger and I are in the bathroom hiding, I don’t know how many there are but the police are on their way. I’m not coming out of here unless you’re the one outside the door

Turning her phone off, she listened to the reassurance coming from the caller, her breath shuttering and her eyes letting tears out from fear. Thankfully the intruders seemed to have just left the bathroom door, probably ransacking the array of jewellery hidden around their shared bedroom.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Chris’ knuckles whitened on his drive home, dare I say he even ran through a few red lights and speed limits. His girlfriend had sent him that most recent text and Jesus, his heart was going 100 miles an hour.

Approaching their suburban house, Chris saw the police cars lined up and down the street, multiple officers standing by the front door.

“Excuse me officer, my girlfriend is inside” Chris said shoving past them and forcing his way inside to see two officers cuffing two men who were clearly off on some sort of substance, Chris didn’t even want to imagine what they were capable of.

Ignoring the questions and pleas from the officers to calm down, Chris sprinted up the stairs, skipping a few along the way. Their house had absolutely been ransacked, furniture and their beloved items thrown carelessly around the place, photo frames cracked and scrambled. To say he was angry was an understatement, not even words could describe how he was feeling.

“Ma’am it’s okay to come out, it’s police, i’m Officer Birch-“

“I told you, i’m not coming out until my boyfriend is here” He heard her voice say, not the usual jolly sound he loved, but a fragile broken tone.

Going over to the door past the officers,

“Baby? It’s me Chris”

“Chris?”

“It’s me honey, your Chris-“

Before he could even say anything else, the door had been thrown open and his girlfriend was back where she belonged, with him and in his arms. Her body still clad in his white robe as sobs wrecked through her entire body, was this really happening right now?

Chris felt himself sigh in relief knowing that she was safe,

“Sir, we need a statement-“

“Can we leave it to tomorrow bud? It’s late, you can come back tomorrow” Chris whispered, but the silence in the room amplified it. His arms rubbing up and down Y/n’s back, his lips kissing the top of her head. Nodding at Chris, the officers left and the only thing to be heard a few minutes later was the front door clicking shut.

“I-I was so scared, Dodger was scared too. What if they got the bathroom door open-“

“Bunny shh, i’m here, you’re safe now okay?” Chris cupped her face in his hands, his nose nuzzling gently against hers, Y/n’s glossy eyes staring back into his deep blue ones.

“Do we have to stay here Chris? Don’t wanna”

“No baby, i’ve got something set up for us already, you don’t need to worry your pretty head about anything else. Now let’s get you and Dodge all set up and ready to go” Before Chris could even leave the embrace, Y/n had latched onto him shaking her head, his heart breaking even more.

“Alright bunny you stay with me yeah?”

Nodding, Y/n held onto his hand and let him lead her towards her dressed. The shock from the break in still extremely fresh in her mind. Holding onto his shoulders, Chris helped her slip on her underwear and fluffy pyjamas bottoms and then his soft jumper to top it off. In silence Y/n watched Chris pack both their overnight bags, along with Dodger’s who was sitting patiently with his head in Y/n’s lap.

“Come on bunny, let’s get outta here” Chris said softly holding his hand out for her to hold, both of them getting out of the car quickly and into Chris’ car, Y/n not letting go of his hand once.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“ babe, we’re gonna stay here is that ok?” Chris had driven them to his smaller bungalow almost an hour away, a place they use for small getaways to the countryside. Y/n nodded looking at him with a small smile, feeling a sense of comfort looking at the familiar house.

With Dodger settled in the living room in his bed with his water and food bowl, the pup knocked out from exhaustion almost instantly. Chris frowning at the effect it had on his little companion before following his lover into the small cosy bedroom. Lit up by rosey lamps, Y/n took his hand and led him to the fluffy bed. Her arms wrapping around his torso, her head laying on his pec.

“I was so scared of losing you ya know?” Chris whispered brushing through her hair with his hands, his lips pecking her forehead every so often, her fingers tracing shapes over his bare chest. His clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly with Y/n whimpering about wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“I love you Chris, thank you for coming as soon as possible. I-I was terrified and I still am to be honest. I know with you i’m safe”

“I-I love you so much more baby, you don’t even understand. I will never let any bastard come near you again, and it never should have happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done more though”

“You’ve done all you can Chris, and you’ve done more than enough by just being here with me”

Chris tilted her head up and kissed her lips softly, his lips travelling to her cheeks and neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed wet kisses; something he knew comforted her. One of her legs wrapped around his waist so she was fully on him, her lips pecking his chest softly before laying her head down.

Thankfully soon enough, Chris watched her eyes close peacefully, the stress of the day leaving her for now. All Chris knew was that he would be with her every step of the way during this whole ordeal, so much that he couldn’t help but steal another kiss from her lips, her lips smiling subconsciously in her sleep. His hands up under his jumper that she was wearing, lazily drawing shapes onto her back, her soft breaths filling the room.

———

Taglist Tags (Form is up there^^): @ilovereadingfanfics @patzammit @pandaxnienke @stormcloudss @vrittivsanghavi @dumb-fawkin-bitch @chrisevansdaughter @cevansgurl @marvelgurl @evanstanwhore @mirikusashes @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @mischiefsemimanaged @thereisa8ella @uwiuwi @bval-1 @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @lastwandastan @ravenhood2792 @feltonswifesworld87 @fdl305 @bluebellsn @mdpplgtz03 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @roofwitty779 @aerangi @s-void @oliviah-25 @nikkitc0703 @meetmeatyourworst @girl-of-multi-fandoms @imboredat2am @mansaaay @adoreyouusugar @annajustwrites @caps-shield1918 @xoxokiaraaxoxo @royalwriteroftheuniverse @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chrisevansangel @tinyelfperson @emvebee @madebylilly @bxdbxtxh15 @tojisbabymomma @kimhtoo17 @itsaylayay1213 @mrspeacem1nusone @seren-a-ity

#romance #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans one shot

[nayeonline]

Idolizing Imperfection: The Ancient Allusions of 'Midas Touch' - KISS OF LIFE (an essay)

I have missed writing kpop essays so much and after watching the new Kiss of Life MV, I couldn't resist doing a scene by scene (with some lyrics) breakdown of the allusions to ancient mythology - (there are lots of other modern references, especially to Britney Spears, but the ancient ones are what I will be focusing on here, believe me there is more than enough to talk about.) I don't have any official qualifications surrounding this field (yet), but I am studying classical civilization and roman literature for a qualification, and I have a long time obsession with Greek mythology especially. Obviously all of these are my interpretations, this is not a definite guide to what exactly the creative direction team at S2 Ent. were thinking about for this comeback, and if you think I missed something or have a different interpretation of one of the scenes, please let me know in the reblogs/comments.

Let’s begin with the title of the track, ‘Midas Touch’. It references the Greek myth of King Midas, who (according to Ovid’s ‘Metamorphoses’) after winning the favour of the god Dionysus, was granted any wish he desired. Midas chose the ability to make everything he touched turn into gold, a wish driven by greed. Midas revelled in his new found powers, but the problems arose when he realised that all food he touched would be turned to gold too - he had condemned himself to starve to death. The myth is essentially a cautionary tale about the effects of greed; Midas is a tragic hero that brought about his own suffering due to his hamartia (tragic flaw) - his blessing becomes his curse. Today, having a ‘midas touch’ means that everything you are involved with is successful, but the main association of Midas with greed still remains. In the context of the song, KOL are saying that a relationship with them, although destined to end in tragedy, would be worth it for the ‘gold’ they can bring - “위험할수록 재밌잖아” (“The more dangerous it is, the more fun it is”).  Midas may have died a tragic death, but his time alive was quite literally golden. Still, it feels slightly odd that KOL are associating themselves with someone so flawed - an idol should be the image of perfection, and in this way, the meaning of the song becomes quite subversive on a meta level. Keep this interpretation in the back of your mind, we will return to it later.

Within the music video itself, each of the four members are given solo scenes that I believe allude to different women of Greek mythology. Julie is first, depicted lying on a blush pink velvet heart with gold embellishments, shell and heart shaped boxes littered around her. The composition of the framing, as well as the beach imagery seems to allude to Boticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’, linking Julie with Aphrodite/Venus, the goddess of love. In Greek mythology, Aphrodite is seen as beautiful beyond compare, but is also often characterised as highly vain and self absorbed. After hearing that some Greeks had begun to worship the ludicrously beautiful mortal woman Psyche instead of her, (and also out of protection of her son Eros to whom Psyche was married), she sent Psyche on a series of impossible trials designed to kill her, so she could remain the most beautiful. Once again, KOL compare themselves to people in the ancient world who were famously flawed.

Natty is seen next, intertwined with glittering spider webs. This is perhaps a reference to the tale of Arachne, a mortal woman who was highly skilled at weaving. She boasted that her skills were greater than Athena herself, the goddess of handicraft (and many other things), and Athena transformed her into a spider as punishment for her hubris (excessive pride). Like the tale of King Midas, Arachne’s story also centres around a fatal flaw bringing your own downfall, and like Midas and Aphrodite, Arachne is not typically remembered fondly within Greek Mythology canon.

Perched on a half dress, half throne that resembles a peacock, Belle is seen next. Originally I wasn’t certain who was being referenced here, but after some research I believe it may be Hera, although if you have another interpretation here I would love to hear it. Hera, the goddess of marriage and fertility, queen of the gods, and wife to Zeus, is affiliated with peacocks as they are one of her sacred animals, and are said to pull her chariot like horses. Hera is also, like Aphrodite, a goddess often portrayed in a negative light in mythology, repeatedly characterised as jealous and spiteful. A famous example of this is when Hera sent two snakes to strangle Heracles/Hercules, the illegitimate son of her husband Zeus, out of spite and jealousy for the boy’s mortal mother. Whether Hera had a right to be annoyed at her husband’s repeated adultery is another discussion, but generally speaking, when Hera is in a myth, she is often the villain.

Finally, we see Haneul, perched upon a corinthian style column (we love a greek column) surrounded by severed heads on spikes, a clearly war ridden scene. This is the allusion I am the least confident about, but I think perhaps she is supposed to be Helen of Troy? Helen is famous for being the catalyst for the Trojan War (perhaps this is the war scene she sits within?), she is the ‘face that launched a thousand ships’. Depending on the source, Helen is either a victim, kidnapped by the Trojan prince Paris, or she was seduced and went willingly, abandoning her Greek husband King Menelaus. The second seems to be the accepted narrative among many Roman authors, with writers such as Martial (in Epigrams 1.62) portraying her as the polar opposite of Penelope, who was seen as the image of loyalty. As a result, Helen is commonly portrayed as disloyal and unfaithful, the opposite of what an ideal woman in the ancient world was supposed to act like.

In their group scenes, there is also SO MUCH Medusa imagery - with snakes crawling all over their faces and hissing at the camera, and half broken stone statues littered here and there. As I am sure you are probably aware, Medusa is very much a villain in the myths she is depicted in, and despite modern reevaluations of her story (that I agree with) portraying her as a victim, in the primary sources, she is essentially an evil monster for Perseus to destroy - her death marks Perseus’s ascension to hero status.

So why oh why are KOL comparing themselves to figures so flawed? In their previous releases, especially their first comeback with ‘Bad News’, the girls are depicted trying to fix injustices in society - they expose corruption in corporations, they combat casual misogyny and sexual harassment, and they call out bullying and abuse. In ‘Midas Touch’ I believe they continue their addressing of injustices and double standards, this time with a focus on the idol industry, their own stomping ground. In the kpop industry, idols are expected to be perfect in every way - beautiful, highly skilled, never controversial, and loyal to their fans. Should an idol fail to uphold these impossible standards, they are relentlessly punished, especially if the idol is a woman. Last month, Karina’s earnest apology to ‘fans’  for falling in love exposed how ludicrous the standards are to the world, and other idols like Sakura, Wonyoung, and Jennie, continue to get bullied on a daily basis for not meeting all of the bars the industry sets them. A kpop idol should be talented, but never show off, they should be beautiful and care about their looks but never be vain, confident but never egotistical, and driven by passion, not the desire for fame and money. It’s all fucking impossible, especially when what constitutes being called the second traits is utterly arbitrary and depends on how many people woke up on stan twitter and decided they didn’t like you that day. In ‘Midas Touch’ KOL calls this out by openly depicting themselves with the traits that kpop stans hate - Julie is Aphrodite, beautiful but vain, Natty is Arachne, talented but boastful, Belle is Hera, confident but jealous, Haneul is Helen, influential but disloyal, and they all are Midas, spurred on by greed instead of passion. They recognise that these accusations are unavoidable, and by reclaiming the imagery of these symbols of undesirable traits, they call out and reject the standards the idol industry places upon them. Like Medusa, they may be seen by many fans as a villain, a hurdle for their favourite groups that have more promotion and budget to overcome on their way to the top, but in actuality, they are victims of an industry desperate to mould them into products to be bought and sold. I’ve seen lots of discussion online about what KISS OF LIFE’s concept is, as it seems to vary every comeback, but after ‘Midas Touch’ I am led to believe that their concept is rebellion, against society, idol culture, and the things they deem as wrong in the world. Other groups have  done concepts similar in the past, such as LOONA in ‘Butterfly’ (you really thought I wasn’t going to bring them up at some point?? Are you new here??) but KOL is doing it explicitly, and consistently, and to me, that's very exciting. The kpop industry is ever changing, and with the foundations of the new 5th generation being established as we speak, perhaps KOL could cause it to change for the better. In summary, I am SO excited to see what they do next.

That honestly took a turn I wasn’t fully expecting at the end, but I hope you enjoyed regardless - I didn’t really talk about the actual song here, but I fucking loved it, and my full review will be part of my April monthly roundup - see previous installments on my masterlist. I encourage all of you to listen to ‘Midas Touch’ if you haven’t already, congratulations KISS OF LIFE for graduating nugudom, stream Birth by ARTMS, stan loona, and prepare for the loossemble comeback - lmk if you have any thoughts on my analysis or any other interpretations, or any topics you want me to write an essay on. cya next time ~ ari

#kiss of life #midas touch #greek mythology #haneul #belle #natty #julie #kiof #kpop #kpop girls #kpop gg #kpop commentary #review #nothing #loona #not kpop #loona boycott #arachne #aphrodite #helen of troy #medusa #hera #greek gods

[ilovehobi101]

Little mama

Warning; infidelity, Grammar errors, breeding kink, daddy kink, creampie, pussy slapping and degrading kink, manhandling. Unprotected sex (guys wrap it before taping it) Just filth you know how it is. This is my first time writing so please give me feedback and please if I forgot something, do tell me. Anyways onto it. Audience for 18+ and older.

Part 2.

The first time you met Elvis was when you were pick up empty drinks from the tables during his every first show at international hotel. He was in the middle of singing 'Love me tender' before he jump off stage and kisseing every women close to him. Someone had pushed you to get to Elvis well it happened quite the opposite, you run right into his chest

" l-l'm so sorry sir i-" you cut yourself when you saw his stare; it was like the world stoped. He started leaning closer so close you could feel his breath against your lip and your eyes almost fluttering closed before another woman pull Elvis to her and kissing him like her life depending on it. Taking it as your cue to leave. You speed walked; more like running and heart beating so fast. You never forget that day after even a year and a half ago.

After that day Elvis had called your manager and said he wanted you as his personal server.

~~~~~~~~~~

As always you waited backstage for Elvis to be done. not that you mind such a thing oh no, watch him was like a blessing seeing how much he loved to sing and being himself upon that stage. You smiled as he joked with the audience before performing his last song for the night. When the golden curtains finally touched the ground Elvis stood up, breathing heavily as someone from his Memphis Mafia threw him a towel to wipe his face and he did so while walking straight to you.

'Damn it.' You cursed at your beating heart 'must you always do this with him close?! ' "Darlin?" Elvis chuckled as he pulled you from your thoughts "Yes?" You reply trying to seem calm "Meet me my suite in a minute" Elvis said smiling at you before heading to his dressing room. Finally after waiting you enter the elevator trying hard to remember to breath; nerves biting at your body. You let out a relieved sigh at hearing the ding alerting that you reached his floor 'God I hate elevators' you thought stepping out into his suite.

You looked around a little before you notice Elvis; seating on the couch, head leaned back and eyes closed. Almost alike he sense you were there,Elvis turned his head towards your direction and those ocean eyes meet your gaze. He smiles "c'mere lil darlin'" he said softly in that beautiful southern drawl of his and patted the spot next to him, walking almost in a trance you round the couch to find him what it appears to be only in a robe and suddenly a feeling of heat rushed to your core.

Elvis watched as you nervously sat next him and looking at anywhere besides him, Elvis put a ringed cladded hand under your chin and gently turns your head towards him. He smirked as you finally look at him "sugar I call ya up here to confess somethin'" he said his thumb slightly rubbing your chin, his gaze zoned on your lips. " since I met you, I can't seem to get ya out of my head. Look 'm gonna be straight with ya, I want you and I want to love on you. Whatcha said baby" he whispered almost afraid to scared you away eventually his eyes meet yours it was like you couldn't say no looking into those hypnotic icy blues but part of you knew it was wrong, this was wrong.

" What about Priscilla? " you say looking at him "I know you feel somethin' too..jus let me love ya" that was it. You couldn't say no, you didn't want to say no. before your mind can think about a reply your body made one for you. You kissed Elvis. The kiss soon turned passionate Elvis's tongue licked and swirled around your tongue; exploring your mouth.

"Bed." He growled making your already wet underwear into a pool when he let go of the hold he had on your chin you shot up like something burned you and headed to his bedroom. You knew the way because he'd order breakfast in bed some mornings when he particularly was in a good mood. Reaching said room you look around, having not really pay attention when you served his breakfast 'beautiful..: you thought while you sat on the amazing soft lage bed not long after you Elvis walked in hands working to untie the knot on his robe

'I'm really gonna do this?' The robe fall off his shoulders and pooled around his feet and any thoughts you had before vanished. You were right..nothing was under that, your eyes look at that part of him 'h-how is that gonna fit!' He had to be at least 7inches and quite wide, his tip red and leaking pre-cum there was a little bit of pubic hair but it was groomed and his balls heavy with cum that he was happy to give.

Seeing this made you hurry and take off everything. you didn't care if it can't, you'll make fit. You panted slightly in desperation; you wanted him- no need him. You both stare at each other in unbearable silence his hooded lustful gaze locked on to your desperate one before he moved to get on the bed and between your parted legs. He kissed you with so much passion it dazed you. Running his right hand down your pump body he had found what he wanted; your clit, he didn't hold back using three of his fingers he rubbed figure eights on your poor button of nerves. "F-fuck." you whimpered as Elvis started sucking on your neck.

He did this for what felt like hours before he slid two of his fingers into you thrusting them as hard as he can. You silently gasped as he ripped his digits away " Need to be in ya mama" he said while slowly running his dick up and down your folds, teasing the opening to your pussy "p-pleas-" not even letting you said the whole word out he slammed his cock inside hitting your soon to be sore cervix. You both groaned at the feeling. He slowly started to thrust "Fuck. Such a pretty cockslut for me" Elvis grunted as he puts your legs close to your head, manhandling you in mating press. It wasn't long before he was pounding into you like there was no tomorrow by this time you couldn't barely speak from the pleasure of being fucked by Elvis Presley.

Letting go of your leg and putting it on his shoulder his fingers found your clit once again. " T-too much! Gonna-" you cried out as your ball of pleasure was close to snapping "Do it lil mama, cover Daddy's cock with your cum" he growled as he slap your pussy, driving you over the edge. You loud moans turn into whimpers as your hips stutter as you came down from the high.

Elvis didn't stop no. He had a mission. "That's it sugar! 'M gonna fill ya up, make ya a mama! Be so p-pretty carryin' my babies..wanna see ya big with me!" Elvis grunted the southern accent thick as he thrusted one last time, he filled you with his cum while panting and sweating like he ran a marathon. "Goddamn..ya alright darlin'?" All you could do was nod, eyes barley open and lazy, blessed out smile on your face 'I wouldn't mind carrying his baby' you couldn't help but think happily.

Elvis smiled before reluctantly pulled out. He placing a sweet kiss on your lips as he got up to get a towel to clean you both up. "Goodnight lil mama" Elvis whispered.

#elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis imagine #x plus size reader