#posting twice in the span of two days

[kitamars]

omg more magma doodles with friends

#AAAAAAA #anyways #posting twice in the span of a few days??? how crazy is that #this is before finals take me away and i die for two weeks so #shimura shinpachi #sakata gintoki #hijikata toushirou #gintoki x hijikata #hijigin #ginhiji #hijikata x gintoki #gintama #ok bye

[epiclamer]

CHEWING, CHEWING, ALL DAY LONG.

Part 2

(No reposts but reblogs appreciated <3)

The Auction

Villain settled themselves in their seat, shuffling a bit against the plush, expensive, padding of the chair. Adjusting themselves comfortably as they watched other guests pile into the large auction room. Everyone was dressed nicely, expensively. Which made perfect sense considering they were all seated in a large, royal-looking, ballroom that belonged to the one and only Supervillain.

The auction was held annually, each year in a new lair to avoid being caught by the heroes. Villain always went, they didn’t participate, even if they were sitting on quite a large bank account. They never found a hero interesting enough to bid on. After all, the only things being sold here were living, breathing, beings. Heroes.

Everyone from lowdown thieves to master-criminals would come to try and sell their captives, some would keep them for themselves, but often, if a hero was caught they’d be sold and forgotten. Villain had never really engaged in this sport, but they enjoyed watching the bickering over frightened do-gooders.

It was sickening and twisted, but that just made it all the more fun.

Villain was pulled from their thoughts as the host themselves grabbed a chair and sat beside them at their table. Supervillain grinned at Villain, holding out their hand and Villain shook it firmly, leaning forward to converse with their guest.

“Villain! Glad to see you here!” Supervillain exclaimed, waggling their eyebrows as they brought a fancy champagne glass to their lips.

“Oh come on, when have I ever not gone?” Villain laughed, despite the rank difference between the pair, they had always been close and able to talk and joke freely with each other. Villain treasured that. Supervillain was more than just an asset, they were a great friend.

“Maybe it would be different since I’m hosting it this year, I don’t know?” Supervillain fiddle with their fingers on their lap, letting their gaze wander about the consistently growing crowd. “Maybe you don’t want to see your pal make a fool of themselves up on the stage tonight…”

Ah, Supervillain was nervous. Very nervous. Villain reached out, taking Supervillains free hand in theirs and cupping it gently. “Hey, you got this. No sweat. Everything is going to be okay, and at the end of the day I’m going to be right here for you, okay?”

Supervillain let out a deep breath, relaxing completely under Villains words, looking up at them with glossy eyes—which were sporting obvious bags underneath—and lifted the smallest smile to their lips. “Thank you.” They murmured, Villain smiled back, giving the others hand a tight squeeze before letting go.

“Now get out there and kick some ass.” Supervillain sat up straight, reinstating their facade of confidence and unbotheredness. Shooting Villain a thumbs up before getting up out of their seat and heading for the large stage.

Villain leaned back in their seat, pleased with their efforts to help their friend—who looked much more relaxed now—as the show commenced and Supervillain began their introductions.

It was the same old, same old. The introductions stay the same every year, introduce yourself, how many candidates (aka heroes up for sale) and explain how the auction works. Villain had heard it all a million times.

“Now! To finally start the show, let’s introduce our first candidate! Starting at the sale of 5000 dollars we have the one and only… Hero!”

The curtains pulled back, revealing Villains nemesis, their greatest enemy, Hero. Their hands were cuffed behind their back, chains wrapped around their legs a little too tightly and there were countless bruises littering what little Villain could see of their body. Their eyes weren’t focusing, they were cowering from the light, nothing at all like their previous bravado. They were shaking, tear streaks lined their cheeks and they were gagged.

Everything in Villains vision went blindingly white. Hero was here. Hero, their biggest pain in the ass, was here. Hero, the one Villain had fought with, laughed with, flirted with, joked with, and the one who went missing many months ago. They had asked around, begged for answers on their missing hero. Nothing. They had even asked Supervillain and Supervillain had lied straight to their face.

“Caught them back a few months ago-“ Eight months ago. “They had no manners at the start-“ All of Hero’s courage. “But I trained them well so don’t worry-“ Beat them into submission. “They need a new home now-“ Selling them. “Someone who isn’t afraid to punish their pets-“ Someone to torture Hero. “Someone who can train them out of their defiance-“ Someone to use them. “Someone who can make Hero into their perfect, obedient, plaything… Any takers?” Plaything.

Supervillains eyes flicked over to where Villain was sitting in the front row, giving them a wink before they went back to the audience.

Rage coursed through Villains veins. Suddenly, their best friend had become their biggest enemy. They were going to kill Supervillain. They were going to wipe that smug look off their face and they were going to get their Hero back.

Villain didn’t hesitate another second, snatching their auction paddle off the table and shooting it up in the air. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only one with the same idea. Two other hands came up along with theirs and they realized that if Villain ever wanted to see Hero again, they would have to fight for them.

#UGH #I LOVE THE AUCTION TROPE #omg #epic posting twice????? in the span of two days???? #no way #impossible #hero x villain #villain #villain x hero #hero #drabbles #fantasy #imagines #oneshots #scenarios #hero whump #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper #villain caretaker #whump #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #auction #hero and villain #villain and hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #supervillain

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content. 

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways. 

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk 

you: …… um.  you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug. 

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes. 

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO  you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics. 

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds. 

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here! 

and there he is. 

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor. 

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence. 

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky. 

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it. 

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder. 

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. 

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now. 

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes. 

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely. 

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…” 

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss. 

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm. 

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental. 

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers. 

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours. 

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat. 

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real. 

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat. 

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.” 

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears. 

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough. 

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him. 

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend. 

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day. 

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?” 

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever. 

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace. 

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more. 

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”  

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more. 

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you. 

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming. 

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved. 

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about. 

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him. 

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are. 

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever. 

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him. 

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue. 

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling. 

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat. 

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take. 

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind. 

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead. 

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable. 

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover. 

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done. 

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise. 

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face. 

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement. 

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks. 

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you. 

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause. 

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork. 

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking. 

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever. 

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently. 

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend. 

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know. 

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈 #im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!! #he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[sweetmage]

Larian Does NOT Handle Abuse Well

Within the span of two days, Larian has promoted the removal of Gale's (a victim of grooming, emotional abuse, and being used by someone with an extreme power dynamic over him, might I remind you) consent twice. In patch 6 they made it easier to manipulate and pressure him into group sex while doing nothing to change all the lines expressing discomfort (other than removing his ability to bring it up after). They also posted a gif to their Twitter without warning of him bring non-consensually choked and kissed while looking terrified.

Imagine if they posted spawn Astarion looking scared while he was hurt and forced into submission while being kissed by someone with extreme power over him.

Not to mention Larian's lead writer implied that, because Gale is annoying (read: autistic coded) that him blowing up at the whims of his abuser is a good and fitting ending for him.

Now imagine it Larian was like "Actually Astarion returning to Cazador and submitting to him is a fitting ending because he was kinda mean and he was causing trouble so it's the best for everyone :)"

Additionally, they have continued to sexualize the clearly abusive and one sided relationship between Wyll and Mizora (a black man and the white woman who manipulated him as a child and now keeps him on a leash and abuses him), evident most recently in the Christmas animation.

Imagine if Larian was repeatedly making jokes and insinuations about Astarion and Cazador fucking or Astarion secretly being attracted to him.

DO YOU SEE THE PROBLEMS NOW???

Y'all run around praising this game for how it handled abuse but really this game and this company handles abuse terribly and their marketing is triggering and insensitive to abuse victims and basically no one wants to bother talking about it! Frustrating...

#abuse tw #larian critical #bg3 critical #baldur's gate 3 critical #gale of waterdeep #wyll ravengard #gale dekarios #jun rants #jun rambles #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion

[hier--soir]

under the night | one

summary: joel miller is a grump, but he likes to think old dogs can be taught new tricks pairing: joel miller x f!reader, set in jackson after the end of tlou part I warnings/tags: [18+ only, minors dni] language, nightmares, discussions of sex, slow-ish burn, age gap [20ish years], grumpy!joel, potential jealousy word count: 7.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a/n: first time i've posted any of my own stuff in ages, but i've been loving writing for joel so thought i'd share!

Wyoming was a state you had never visited before the outbreak, so it was strange that 22 years on, it had become your home. It was Summer when you and Cal arrived in Jackson, and six months on, you could feel Winter’s grip steadily descending upon the town. The area seemed to be cloudy year-round, but the way the air had begun to chill as of late was something you’d not quite experienced before. Cold as it was, living there was quiet, and peaceful.

The settlement was led by a strong woman named Maria, and her husband Tommy, who had welcomed you and Cal with a wary kindness. Offered you safety, and a place to live, in exchange for hard work and your dedication to supporting the community. After so many years travelling the barren, infected country alone, the pair of you were awkward, and fumbled your way through meeting so many new people.

Jackson wasn’t the first place you’d tried to settle down in. Over the span of a decade, you’d crossed the country what felt like twice over, relying solely on each other, but never quite feeling like anywhere was home except for when you were alone together. This place proved you wrong though – the people proved you wrong. They were self-sufficient here, a working community, where everyone was equal, and the leaders were kind, and trustworthy; two characteristics that you and Cal hadn’t encountered in other people in a long time.

The home Maria and Tommy provided you was modest, and a fixer-upper if you had ever seen one. God, the day they’d arrived, you’d let out an exhausted laugh when Tommy pulled on the knob of the front door, and it cracked off its hinges.

“Nothing a good screw won’t fix,” Cal had chuckled, wanting to appear optimistic in front of Tommy.

Regardless of the state of the place, you and Cal made it your home in quick work. Cal made friends quickly, the way he always had. He was tall and gangly; all long limbs and sandy blonde hair, and he had a crooked toothed smile that endeared people to him almost instantly. You, on the other hand, were blunt, your body lean and strong as a result of years of physical exertion, and you were always the more stubborn of the two. You were a perfect dichotomy beside each other; sweet and salty. Stony, and withdrawn, you had always used your closest friend as a crutch during rare social interactions. You were familiar with all of the violence, and pain that came with the world, and as you grew up, had become so delightfully unsure when it came to being shown warmth.

Maria took you under her wing, introducing you to the people at the stables you would be working alongside, and encouraging you to find solace in the group of warriors that made up the women of Jackson. For the most part, people were kind and welcoming. With time, they didn’t pause and stare when you walked along the street, unsure of the newcomers.

People shared stories about others who had come through Jackson before you and Cal, and about the histories of those who still lived there. Sometimes, as you sat on the porch of the house, you’d watch people walk by, share a polite wave, and try to pin the stories to the faces you were seeing.

“I met Tommy’s brother today,” Cal started one evening. “Bit of a prick.”

Your eyebrow raised slightly, amused that someone could piss off one of the more jovial people you’d ever known. “What’s wrong with him, was he wearing double denim?”

Cal lifted his bowl of soup to his mouth and slurped down the last few drops. Wiping his mouth messily, he shook his head. “I don’t know about that guy. Remember Tommy told us about him?” You did remember Tommy vaguely mentioning that his brother had arrived on the settlement a year or so before you and Cal arrived.

“He keeps to himself for the most part,” Tommy had jested, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he thought of his brother. “But he’s a goodin, does good work for this town.”

“Whatever,” Cal changed his tune. “I shouldn’t let it bother me, he was just rude is all. Called me newbie twice, even though he knows my name. Seems to like being a big dog around here.”

You hummed to show you were still listening, tearing off a piece of bread and stuffing it in your mouth. “Seems only fair that if Tommy is kind, his brother would’ve turned out an ass. Isn’t that how we work?” He snorted out a laugh, and that was the last you spoke of it.

It wasn’t for another week or so until you met the man yourself. It’d been a long day spent at the stables, basking in the beating sun while working alongside a few others. The horses were huge creatures, and it took you a while to get used to their nature. It’d been so long since an animal hadn’t been a threat to you, but a few weeks on, and you’d found yourself ending the workdays by taking a ride around on your favourite mare Dot.

You and Cal’s home was on the opposite side of town, and on your walk through you passed faces that had become familiar. You small talked and smiled until your jaw ached, and by the time you bumped into him, you’d already reached your pleasantry quota for the day.

He had a bag of vegetables hung over his shoulder in a linen sack, and was making quiet conversation with his brother, when you walked by.

Tommy called out your name, waving you over to them. Your feet and shoulders ached, but you slapped a half smile on your face as you sidled up to the pair. “I’d been hoping to catch you, Maria’s wondering when you’re free for dinner this week.”

“Oh, whenever she wants me,” you nodded, chest warming in an odd way at the invitation. Your gaze flitted curiously to the tall man standing beside Tommy. You’d seem him around before, many times actually, but never realised he was the infamous brother.

Oftentimes, you’d noticed him because, 7 times out of 10, the same young girl would be plodding along beside him, chattering away incessantly. You had assumed they were a father and daughter on those occasions, but now understanding this was Joel, you knew better. Cal had explained it to you when he found out, about how Tommy’s brother had a kid living with him, but it wasn’t his. The idea of it didn’t seem too strange to you, considering most of the people living in Jackson were found families, not blood. 

He was tall, taller than Tommy, with a more wrinkled and tanned face. Dark hair with streaks of grey, and a short beard. Obviously. the older brother. Thicker than Tommy too, the invasive thought flashed through your mind, as your eyes glanced over his arms.

Ignorant to your curious eyeballing, Joel jerked his head in your direction, and asked, “The other newbie?” He had a distinctly husky Texan drawl, and his voice was deep, as if he spoke from the very depths of his stomach.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, and introduced the two of you with a smile. “She’s doing some great work for us round the stables, the horses have taken a good liking to her already.”

You shared a polite nod and held out your hand for greeting. Joel barely met your eyes, before gripping your hand once. One firm shake, before dropping it like it stung him. You thought you noticed him even wipe his hand off on his jeans. Rude motherfucker.

He didn’t say anymore, and seemed to just wait for you to go so he could continue his conversation from before you showed up.

“Well,” you said. “I’ll get out of your hair boys. Be good.” A short laugh fell from Tommy’s mouth, and you thought you caught a surprised expression on Joel’s face as you turned and continued walking in the direction of home.

You crossed paths a few more times that Summer, but always briefly. He constantly had somewhere to be, or a job he was on his way to completing – never without an excuse to cut a conversation with you short. You didn’t particularly mind his disinterest in small talk. In fact, you found it somewhat refreshing after a few interactions with him. Finally, one other person in this town who wasn’t friendly, or willing to fake interest in you just because you were new in town.

One day you and Cal went on a ride along with Tommy as he patrolled the area surrounding the settlement. Nothing serious, just him showing you both around the area, telling you about what abnormalities he kept an eye out for when he went out of the safety of the gates.

The trio had been out for an hour or so before a rustle in the woods a hundred metres back caught their attention. Your hackles rose, and you reached for the gun strapped to your hip instinctively, prepared to see an infected emerge from the brush. But Joel Miller rode up to your group quickly, a deep scowl settling on his face when he spotted his brother’s company.

“What’s wrong?” Tommy asked his brother.

“Maria wants you back home,” he said gruffly. “Said it’s getting late; said if you’re not back in time for dinner she’ll lock your ass out.” His gaze twitched quickly over to you and Cal, who were watching him curiously. “Why are the newbies with you?”

Joel wasn’t afraid to talk about you two as if you weren’t there, didn’t care how it came across, and you understood this was probably why some people in Jackson weren’t very fond of him.

“Just showing them the area, they oughta know what we get up to out here every day,” Tommy said amiably. “The real question is, why are you doin’ my wife’s bidding?”

He huffed in response, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Maria’s the boss,” is all he said, before gripping the reins and encouraging his horse to take off in the direction he came from. When it was just the three of you again, you felt your shoulders sag, and let out a low whistle, as if to say, jeez, lighten up.

Not a week later, Cal told you, “His face has the same thing yours has, you know.” You were sharing lunch outside the stables, when Joel had shown up to take one of the horses for a patrol.

“What the fuck does that mean?” you’d asked incredulously. He held his hands up in defence, coughing lightly around his mouthful of food.

“No, no, don’t bed mad,” he paused, laughing more. “But… c’mon, I couldn’t help but notice…”

“Notice what? Why the fuck can’t you finish your sentence.” You were impatient, and the sun was beating down on you, and Joel was only 10 metres away, saddling up.

“You both have this set of wrinkles in between your eyebrows,” he finally admitted, smirking. “I’d say it’s because you’ve both been frowning for the past twenty years straight, if I had to guess.” You relaxed the frown on your face instantly, making Cal laugh harder. A warmth rose in your face as you realised you’d attracted Joel’s attention, and he was glancing at you from across the grass.

“I don’t frown all the time,” you muttered under your breath, giving Joel a courteous nod goodbye as he rode out on the horse.

“Of course you don’t, sunshine, my mistake,” Cal had agreed sarcastically, waving a hand at Joel in farewell.

After that, whenever you saw him, your lips twitched as you noticed the wrinkle in the middle of his forehead, and you reminded yourself to relax your own. Not enough room in Jackson for two permanent frowns, you thought to yourself, and his takes the cake. ‘Grumpy’ was a good descriptor for him. On the rare occasion you saw him smile or laugh, it was when the girl was around.

You had noticed the way she’d tell him a joke and a begrudging smile would grace his face, only for him to cough, or reach up and place a hand over his mouth, to avoid anyone else taking notice. Of course, you would notice the girl grinning with glee at making her companion laugh. It was sweet. The fondness between them was palpable, and you had to fight the curiosity inside you that wondered what had brought them together.

When, at long last, you finally met Ellie, it all made sense. The girl was insufferably chatty with some precocious snark to boot, and she had an impressive attention to detail; a 5’4” spitfire with a mess of mousy brain hair. She was no bullshit, and you trusted her instantly.

“I was wondering when I’d meet the newbie I’d been hearing about,” Ellie had smirked, holding out a sweaty hand in greeting.   

“Sorry it took so long, everyone wants a piece of the me these days,” you feigned a sigh, smiling when the young girl laughed.

“Do you like it here?” she asked inquisitively, and you nodded. “I’ve seen you a few times, but you always seemed busy, or were with that other guy.” “Jackson is great, me and Cal are happy to be here,” you confided. “I’ve seen you round a lot too, with your-“ you cut yourself off before the word ‘father’ came out. “With Joel.”

“Oh, you know Joel!”

“No, not really,” you clarified quickly. “He pops up here and there… what a laugh that guy is.” For a moment you were worried the joke wouldn’t land, but when a squeaky laugh pealed out of Ellie’s mouth you relaxed, and laughed with her.

“You’re telling me!” the girl barked, shaking her head.

Through those first six months in Jackson, life slowly started to make sense again for you. For the first time since the outbreak happened all of those years ago, you found yourself with a proper home, and a community of people around you who you had come to know and respect.

But even with newfound light in your life, the darkness inside of you wasn’t going away quickly. Even a friendly place like Jackson couldn’t stop the nightmares that plagued you. After spending over a decade traversing the United States with Cal, seeing death and decay and infection firsthand, you had to train yourself to focus on the good.

When you passed by a group of kids on the street, you urged yourself not to see the faces of Cal’s late brothers, whom you grew up with. Had to fight the memories of the settlement not unlike Jackson that you spent years in, only to watch it burn to the ground. Not everything ends badly, you would whisper to yourself. People can be trusted.

As insistent as you were with opening yourself up to the light, the nightmares still came fast and hard. It was the same one, most nights. The same memory. In time, Cal had begun to sleep through you crying out for help in your sleep, after learning years ago that being woken up by him sometimes scared you just as much as the dream itself. Sometimes, solitude after an awful night was the only remedy.

You woke slick with sweat, your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Heart racing, you stumbled out of bed and gulped down some water in the kitchen. Through the light fog outside, a warm orange glow lit the street, as the sun rose slowly over the town. Thank god, you thought. Early, but not too early to rise without worrying Cal. You dressed slowly, limbs heavy with fatigue, and walked numbly toward the stables. Winter had crept into Jackson like a thief, and the morning’s icy cold breath licked at your hands and face, stealing all the warmth you had to offer.

A few of the horses startled awake when you arrived, and you soothed them quietly, your voice hoarse from crying only an hour prior.

“It’s just me,” you murmured, kissing Dot’s speckled nose.

A morning ride seemed a good way to wake up all of your senses, so you set to saddling up. But only a short while after your arrival at the stables, a sound outside made you start. A flash of the nightmare shot through your brain, and your heart stuttered. Footsteps, padding softly through the grass outside, could clearly be heard. Dot’s ears pricked up, and her large head swung toward the stable doors to watch. Although you had been sure you heard someone approaching, when he stepped into view, you still let out a yell of surprise. 

“Woah,” Joel held his hands out in alarm, eyes wide. “I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” His arms lowered as he recognised you, warily noting your defensive stance, positioned half behind Dot with tensed fists.

You didn’t say anything immediately, breathing heavily out of your mouth, and still trying to calm your racing heart. You watched each other from across the space, and he took a few slow steps inside. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he apologised genuinely, in a tone gentler than you’d ever heard him use.

You ignored his apology. “What’re you doing out here so early? The sun’s hardly up.”

An eyeroll. “I could ask you the same question.”

You contemplated lying, but exhaustion wore on you heavily, and you found yourself unable to think of a fib worthy of his time. “Bad dreams,” you settled on, not caring how childish it made you sound.

He nodded slowly, looking unsurprised by your admission. After a measured pause, he offered, “I get those too, sometimes.”

Your heart, which had only just slowed down, found itself beating out of time again, although you weren’t sure why. This was the longest conversation you and Joel had ever had, and by far the most private one – if you didn’t count the horses listening in. When you didn’t answer him quickly, his hand raised to scratch awkwardly against his beard. Not for the first time, you were hit with an unwelcome thought about how handsome he was.

“You look cold,” he changed the subject quickly, and with a down turned mouth. He was wearing a thick brown jacket, which made the thin jumper you were wearing look like a sheet of paper in comparison.

“Cal’s been borrowing my good jacket these days, since it’s gotten cold.”

Joel watched you speak, and it seemed like he didn’t how to respond. His hands settled on his hips, and he mumbled something under his breath that you missed. When you prompted him to repeat it, he just said, “You spend a lot of time with Dot.” You were happy to finally shift the topic of conversation away from yourself, and agreed. 

“Yeah well, Percy over there isn’t too fond of me,” you gestured behind you to a tall grey horse, who you had discovered months earlier would huff loudly and rear his head up whenever you stepped near him. In that respect, Percy reminded you somewhat of Joel when the two of you first met.

“Percy’s old, he’ll warm up to you with time,” he advised.

“I thought the saying goes that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

A small huff of air escaped his mouth, and if you weren’t so sleepy, you would’ve sworn it was the start of a laugh. Quietly, he said, “I’d like to think that’s not true.”

It was the next morning, after you’d awoken from another nightmare, and stepped outside to head to the stables again, that you saw it. A gift, or maybe a token of understanding.

A large black jacket, folded neatly on your doormat.

Winter kicked in like a punch in the gut, but you decided you liked the festivities that the cold weather inspired in Jackson. Suddenly every morning your windows had a delicate layer of frost over them, hiding the view of the street, making every day a new surprise, waiting for you to discover when you finally stepped outside. It didn’t rain often, but you could sense how the clouds seemed to sag, and knew that snow wouldn’t be far around the corner. You wore Joel’s jacket most days, and appreciated how the cold made your face tinge red, so that when he spotted you in it, he wouldn’t notice you were blushing.

To celebrate the changing of the season, Maria had organised a bonfire night to bring the town together. She enticed you to come along with promises of mulled wine and live music, but the truth was that you had already promised Cal you’d go along.

“She is going to be theeeere,” Cal had sung dreamily from the kitchen, a week before. You had been lounging on the chair in your living space, drowsy from an impromptu afternoon nap, and it took you a moment to understand who he was talking about.

“Luisa?”

“Luisa,” he confirmed wistfully, sipping a cup of tea as he stepped into the room. “She invited us, and you have to come along, you know. I can’t go without my wingman.”

“If she invited you, you probably don’t need a wingman,” you laughed, but agreed to go nonetheless. It was sweet watching Cal talk about Luisa over the past few weeks, and watching his crush develop more every day that they spent time together. Not for a long time had either of you been romantically involved with someone, and it made your heart sing for him. Of course, you would go. For Cal, you’d probably go anywhere. 

Jackson was a hub of excitement when the day finally rolled around. During your shift at the stables, the women you worked with chatted keenly about wanting to dance to live music, and it caused a bubble of excitement to form in your own chest. It had been so long since you’d seen a musical instrument, let alone seen someone play one with any skill. On your walk home, people were toting around decorations, headed towards a big open dirt field, where you knew a set up effort had already begun. You passed Joel’s place halfway through town and smiled upon spotting him on his porch, rugged up and chatting away with Tommy and Ellie.

Since that morning in the barn, you and Joel had settled into a sort of comfortable ease with one another. There was less rigidity when you spoke; less apprehension when it came to sharing things about yourselves, and your days. Being around him became a source of calm, rather than tension. You never sought him out for conversation, but you found yourself quietly elated when he appeared on one of your aimless walks, or passed by the stables unexpectedly and chatted to you while you worked.

The more you came to learn about him in those quiet moments, the more you appreciated him. You felt that you had formed a kind of mutual understanding between you; that you wanted the same things. A shared desire to enjoy this quiet life that neither of you felt you deserved, but were both lucky enough to have fall into your laps.  It was true that you hadn’t made friends there the way Cal had – people gravitated towards his energy naturally. But with Joel, you felt understood.

“Well don’t you lot look cosy,” you called from the street, and were met with a round of friendly waves. “What’s on the menu?” you pointed at the mugs they all gripped, eyeing the hot steam that rose out of them.

“Just a second.” Joel disappeared inside for a few minutes, before returning with a cup of coffee for you. You leaned against the banister and sipped at the hot liquid greedily, nodding in appreciation.

“How are you doing?” Tommy asked you genuinely. You liked the sweet crow’s feet that appeared next to his eyes when he smiled. You chatted absently about work and patrols, and how one of the families in town were expecting a new baby in a few months, before finally the topic of the bonfire came up.

“Oh, you’re coming right?” Ellie pondered eagerly, sitting up in her chair.

“Only if you’ll be there, kid.” Her face lit up at this, grinning smugly at Joel and Tommy. You could feel Joel’s eyes on you, but held your gaze steadfast on Ellie. It felt like your skin burned a little when he was looking at you – you could always sense his stare.

“And Cal too?” Ellie asked. She always asked you about Cal, and you’d just come to understand that she liked to be in the loop about most things. She held that teenage curiosity to know about everyone, and all their comings and goings.

“Yes,” you smirked conspiratorially. “He mentioned wanting to see Luisa.” The younger girl raised her eyebrows suggestively, garnering a chuckle from even Tommy.

“Can you believe,” Ellie suddenly chuckled out, sticking out a hand and placing it on Joel’s shoulder. “That Joel thought you and Cal were married or something?”

As you and Tommy laughed, you thought you noticed Joel gently kick his boot against Ellie’s shin, as if to say, shut the hell up kid. He didn’t quite meet your eye when you looked at him, and appeared somewhat embarrassed as he turned to glare at Ellie.

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first to think that,” you conceded. “With the amount of years we’ve known each other, we might as well be married at this point.”

Joel looked at you properly then, his curiosity getting the better of him. Tommy asked the question that seemed to be on his lips.

“Remind me how many years you’ve been together? I can’t remember what you told me all those months ago.”

“We’ve known each other for something like two or three decades.”

Ellie let out a low whistle, eyes wide just thinking about that many years. She was so young, and you felt a quick pang in your heart to remember it.

You drained the last of your coffee, and placed the mug softly into Joel’s outstretched hand before stepping off the porch. “Speaking of the old ball and chain, I’d better get home to make sure he hasn’t burned the place down in my absence.”

“See you tonight,” Joel shared a half smile, and you nodded, before turning and heading in the direction of home. As you walked, you listened to their conversation start back up again.  “Oh kiddo, I almost forgot. Tommy told me this joke yesterday that reminded me of you. You’re gonna love this…” And then you were too far gone to hear the rest.

After giving Cal advice on which shirt to wear, the pair of you made your way toward the field where the party was being held. He was adamant you had to arrive casually late, so that he didn’t seem too eager. You went along with his ideas amiably, happy to please him. And although you didn’t tell Cal, you could admit to yourself that you weren’t going just for his benefit anymore – there were other people looking forward to seeing you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you would get to spend any time talking to Joel, and your heart squeezed in a way you chose to ignore.

The sun had set hours ago, and the party was in full swing when you arrived at the gathering. Flames blazed high into the air from two huge bonfires, crackling loudly and lighting the wide-open space with a warm orange glow. Small twinkling lights had been strung up through the surrounding trees, providing more light. A small group of musicians stood off to the side, playing soft folk music that flowed beautifully into your ears.

Busy marvelling at your beautiful surroundings, you were shocked back to reality by Cal thrusting a warm mug into your hands.

“Liquid courage,” he winked, taking a swig. You stared at the deep red steaming liquid in your own cup, and sipped it tentatively. Soft notes of cinnamon and star anise hit your tongue, mixing with the tart red wine, and you hummed happily. “Oh, there she is!”

Cal bid you a quick farewell and wandered across the field to sit beside Luisa on a thick log. You watched as the pair embraced, but averted your eyes quickly when Luisa leaned in and pressed a kiss against Cal’s cheek. He would tell you these things in his own time, and deserved his privacy. Allowing your eyes to flicker over the rest of the crowd. It seemed everyone in Jackson was there. Families talking and laughing, couples and friends swaying together near the band. A feeling of intense loneliness hit you in a sudden wave, but as quick as it came it was gone, as you spotted Joel sitting alone, staring into the fire.

Before you could convince yourself not to, you found your legs meandering in his direction, as if out of your own control. You half hoped someone would stop you for a conversation along the way, but everyone was distracted, and you seemed to blend into the crowd without drawing much attention. Ellie could be seen watching the band play with some other people around her age and hadn’t noticed your arrival. In less than a minute, your black boots were stopping a metre behind where Joel sat.

He wasn’t aware of your presence yet, leaving you with a moment to take him in. Although you couldn’t see his face yet, you admired his broad strong back, and thought absently that either all his clothes were too tight, or he must’ve been built like a brick house underneath them.

Unsure of yourself, and feeling awkward in your own skin, you hesitated for a moment too long. A quiet crack sounded as you adjusted your footing, and crunched onto a wayward twig, making Joel’s head tick ever so slightly to the side.

“Hey there,” you rushed, not wanting to spook him, and he turned fully to see you. He looked handsome, wearing his normal brown jacket, and holding his own mug of ruby red liquid courage. The corner of his mouth quirked up and those earthy brown eyes took her in quickly, flicking from her head to her feet, and back up again in an instant.

“You gonna sit down or just stand there all night?” You were torn abruptly from your reverie when he spoke, and you hoped that the darkness hid your blush. Stepping over the log he was on, you sat down beside him heavily, holding out your free hand to feel the warmth of the bonfire. You were close. Not enough to touch, but enough that the sleeves of you jackets brushed ever so slightly when one of you moved your arm.

“You havin’ a good time?” you enquired quietly, realising that from this vantage point, you could actually see Cal and Luisa, on the other side of the fire.

“Better now, I’ll admit.” You turned her head to look at him, surprised by his forthrightness, and he held your gaze evenly, still doing that half smile that put you at ease. “The people in this town are so friendly, but you run out of things to talk about after knowing them all for a year and a half.”

“Well lucky for us,” you suggested. “I’ve only been here 7 months. We haven’t exhausted all avenues of conversation yet, have we Joel?”

From behind the rim of his mug he chuckled quietly, his eyes shining with the fire’s reflection. “I’d say we haven’t, no.” Considering his height and broad stature, he always held himself in a naturally authoritative manor. But sitting there beside him, you enjoyed seeing him look so relaxed, lounging comfortably, with a few drinks in his system. It was a version of him that you hadn’t met before, and you liked it.

“How is he?” Joel asked, nodding in Cal’s direction. You looked over to see him and Luisa chatting together, their foreheads knocking together as they leaned into one another. You smiled.

“He’s good. Fitting in like no one’s business,” you snorted, shaking your head in a sort of wonderment. “Doesn’t surprise me though. People always liked Cal, everywhere we went.”

“And they didn’t like you?” His tone was disbelieving. A prickling heat tickled across your face, and you knew he was staring.

“Not that they didn’t like me, I’m just…” you trailed off, trying to choose your words carefully. “More of an acquired taste, I suppose.”

“An acquired taste.” He repeated gruffly, and made a scoffing noise from deep in his throat.

“Ah, you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“Well, even then, I suppose the saying goes... about acquired tastes getting better with age… or something like that.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye and relished in seeing his large frame shaking with silent laughter.

“We can agree to disagree on this one, but I’m happy to let you chop together sayings to fit your idea of not being likable.”

You stared at him a little longer, enjoying the tight-lipped smile on his face. Gaze locked onto his mouth, your brain suddenly filled with ideas about his lips, and what they would feel like. He was so rough, so brawny, but you liked to imagine they’d be soft, like he was now that you had gotten to know him more. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip and your eyes drifted up, to find he’d caught you staring. Joel exhaled heavily and reached up to scratch at the little scar on the bridge of his nose. You wondered how he’d gotten it.

You’d noticed plenty of scars along his arms, during the warmer months in Jackson. It seemed he had a long history of violence that you knew nothing about, but you certainly wasn’t surprised by it. Even as you grew closer to him, and to Ellie, nothing was ever revealed about how they came together, or what led them to Jackson. It almost made you want to keep your own history private, until he shared more with you. But then he smiled at you, and your heart did that skipping a beat thing it was always doing these days around him, and your defences would lower again.

Across the fire, your attention was caught by the sound of Luisa laughing loudly at something Cal whispered to her. You and Joel watched them silently for a moment, both entranced by the giggling couple across the field.

Joel raked a hand through his hair and cleared his throat quietly. “You and Cal…”

“Me and Cal what?” you prompted.

“You two, did anything ever…” he seemed to hesitate; his eyes boring into the dirt in front of you while he struggled to articulate himself. It was bizarre to see such a strong man seem so unsure. “You never… anything more than friendship?”

A beat of silence. you wondered how much to tell him. Certain memories of you and Cal ran through your mind and you shivered a little. It had been a long few years since you’d thought about that time in your lives.

“It’s complicated,” you spoke slowly, not wanting to lie to Joel. “We were alone for so long. Sometimes there would be other people with us while we travelled around, or when we lived in other settlements, but…”

“But they were temporary?”

“Temporary,” you nodded. The band were playing an upbeat song, and you were momentarily distracted by the contrast between the group of people lively dancing a few metres away, and you and Joel sitting there talking in hushed tones.  

“They would get themselves killed, or infected, or…” you paused, feeling your eyebrow twitch at the thought of some of you and Cal’s past acquaintances. Of one in particular, whom you was still plagued with visions of while asleep.

Embers from the fire were floating through the foggy air, and you inhaled a deep breathe, watching as they disappeared into the night sky. Little pieces of crackling sparks, shooting up and evaporating. The smoke from the fire burned your eyes and throat. Don’t think about it.

“Or…” he pressed. He might as well have poked you with a stick to bring your attention back to the conversation; his curiosity rolling off him in waves. Joel with a few drinks in him proved far nosier than sober Joel. 

Your gaze stayed on the sky. “Or prove themselves untrustworthy.”

Joel was smart enough to read between the lines, and not push any further on the matter. You observed fondly that when you were speaking to him, Joel angled his head ever so slightly to have his left ear closer to you. Upon noticing, you remembered it was true that whenever he’d approached you in the past few weeks, he’d position himself on your right side. You figured the hearing on his right side was a little shoddy. 

For a few moments you just sat and watched the people around you. Some of the families started to leave, herding little ones away from the band, and in the direction of town.

“So?” Joel prompted, with a deep wrinkle in his forehead that let you know he wasn’t happy about having to ask again.

“You really want to know?”

You couldn’t read the expression on his face. He fiddled with the mug in his hands and nodded once.  You didn’t like the way he’d gone from relaxed and boozy, back to his regular grouchy countenance.

Your tongue clicked against the roof of your mouth in acquiescence.

“We’d been friends for twenty years before it, and we’ve been friends for a decade after it. It happened twice, or… or maybe three times. It gets a bit hazy in my memory. We figured we knew each other so well, and after so many years alone, it had started to seem like there would never be anyone else to…” you trailed off, uncertain of how much to reveal. Joel waited.

“As much as we wished it was more it just wasn’t. It never could be.” It was impossible not to picture those times, as you talked about them. Your stomach rolled remembering the way you and Cal had stood awkwardly together, skimming stones over a lake you’d stumbled across, agreeing to never do it again. It was one of the worst moments of your friendship; both fearing you were about to break your only friend’s heart. “We love each other but… there’s a barrier there, in our heads. All the memories of us as kids, of playing soccer on the weekend with him and his brothers, of watching each other grow up and become the people we were going to be…” You rubbed the itchy corner of your eye with grimy fingers, taking a breath. Joel’s eyes flicked over to see Cal and Luisa standing up, and the pair began walking away from the bonfire hand in hand.

“When we fucked, the first time, it was just a tension release, I suppose.”

Joel flinched beside you, his shoulders tenser than they had been a moment before. A twinge of regret tickled in your chest, for using such matter-of-fact language. You weren’t trying to push him away, but it felt sneaky if you were to lie about your past with Cal. There was no denying what had happened; not if you wanted Joel to know you, truly. It was a part of your story, and neither of you could afford to be ashamed of it. 

“And after that, we tried again but it just… didn’t work. We couldn’t be together that way, as much as we longed for the connection. He may as well be my brother. Thankfully, the sibling sentiment was mutual.”

You turned to watch Joel’s face. His stoic expression was hard to read, but the wrinkles around his mouth were made prominent by how he clenched his jaw, and you could sense an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions clearly rolling under his skin. Yet he stayed silent, brooding. Jealous? You shook the invasive thought off. No.

“I don’t say it lightly, that I would die for Cal,” you said quietly, your voice as firm and wary as the day you arrived in Jackson, eyes glancing away for a moment to watch Cal’s back as he disappeared out of the field. “Him being here, happy and safe… it’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”

Silence swelled around you, heavy with the weight of all that you had revealed. Goosebumps rippled over your skin as the band started to play a song you recognised. One from before outbreak day, that your mother used to sing to you on the settlement, in those early years after everything changed. If Joel noticed your demeanour shift, you didn’t care, letting your eyes fall closed as you gently sang along to the opening of the old song.

Oh, Kentucky, I miss you

Your night sky, black and tired

But wild like a live wire

The horse is never leaving the pond on its own

You got to open the gate and let it loose to run

Faster than the clouds on a windblown dawn Faster than you left me alone to long

You trailed off slowly and reached up to wipe a stray tear from your cheek. An image of your mother’s face flashed through your memory, but you shoved it down, unsure if it was even an accurate idea of what she had looked like. After a decade and a half without her, you couldn’t be sure your memories were trustworthy.  

“And what do you want now?” Joel finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Now that he’s happy, and safe. What do you want?”

“For myself?” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “I haven’t let myself want anything in a long time now. There’s no use; nothing good comes from it.”

Your cheeks were warm and red, and little bits of ash were dotted through your hair. Joel’s mug had been abandoned to the ground, and his fingers fiddled together in his lap, the way they always did when he was trying his best to actively listen. He was present, and this way his way of showing it. No messing around, no object or weapon in his hands to put a barrier between himself and another person. Just his hands, scratching and tracing each other, to calm himself. It made your heart beat out of time for a second, whenever you noticed him doing it. Until one of his hands lifted and held in the air for a second, and then he reached over to place it gently on your knee. Your heart stuttered as he gave it a gentle squeeze, and left it to rest there.

“I felt the same way for a long time. Thought there was no use in hoping, or wanting anything good, or feeling like I deserved to be happy.”

“And now?” you asked, staring down at his large hand on you. You wished you had the confidence to reach down and take it in your own. “Do you still feel like that?”

His thumb made one slow stroking movement along your knee, making the skin underneath your jeans tingle sharply.

“Jackson changed things. Ellie… Ellie changed things. And…” He paused, and his forehead finally relaxed. You pursed your chapped lips and didn’t look away from him, urging him to continue. “Jackson continues to change things.” Is all he said.

And it’s all he needed to. You understood. 

Take me to the track, I want to lose all my cash

This beating in my chest is all I need to stash

And why shouldn’t I?

Cause when I’m alone

We’re still looking at the same moon

Under the night

Are we two people never getting together?

I will follow your roads

As wide as the air, as wild as a storm.

part two

#joel miller #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller fanfiction #ellie williams #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #my writing #under the night

[poeticlilies]

I really loved the akutagawa x reader post. Could you maybe do one for dazai?

♡ Melancholy

Dazai Osamu x Reader

Desc: You comfort Dazai after a bad day. (fem reader)

TW/CW: angst, spoilers, harmful thoughts, dazai's past, abuse, might be ooc? not too familiar w bsd yet i'm new to the fandom :')

Dazai Osamu was a man who had lived through at least seven lifetimes in the span of one.

He'd seen things; things that nobody should've seen, but it didn't stop him from seeing them.

He saw Mori kill the old boss and rebuild Port Mafia anew; he was abused by him, and continued the cycle of abuse with Akutagawa, who eventually did it to Kyouka.

Oh, he was a bad man; a wicked, bad, person who had done unspeakable things under the orders of Mori (although some of those actions were not orders; rather, they were committed of his own will).

And although he has betrayed the mafia and joined the Armed Detective Agency, although he has saved countless lives (and the city of Yokohama, several times) he still sometimes finds himself thinking it wasn't enough.

Wasn't enough to wash his hands of the blood he's spilt; wasn't enough to cleanse his sins as they clung to him, digging their claws into his back and oozing inside, whispering in his ear that he'll never be good enough, never be able to do enough, never be able to save enough lives.

And sometimes, when you aren't around, he curls up into a little ball under his sheets and cries, sobbing into the comforter and choking as he tries to breathe (but miserably fails).

He wails into his blanket, shaking all over, hands trembling and eyes wide as he scratches at his throat and his chest, leaving red irritated marks as he tries to rid himself of his sins.

In the detective agency, he was Dazai; a charming, annoying, womanizer who never worked but always somehow managed to turn his share of the paperwork in.

At home, in the privacy of his bedroom, he was Osamu; a man who grew from the broken mold of his childhood, desperately picking up the pieces of his heart and gluing them back together only to fall apart at another one of Kunikida's scathing remarks or the looks from the Agency members varying from pitiful to condescending.

Osamu is sure that he's useless. A burden to the agency; kept around only as a pretty face for sore eyes.

He's been hurt much too much to let anyone know of his meltdowns; there was one close call when Atsushi questioned the splotchy patches of red on his face when he came out of the bathroom, but he managed to convince him it was the aftereffects of another poisonous mushroom and that he was fine, having already been treated by Yosano.

He's hurt too much to even want to fathom the idea of letting someone into his heart. No, what if they see the ugly creature of anxiety and fear and shun him, kicking the soft organ in disgust and making it crumble further into pieces?

You had been let in unwillingly; after worming your way into his heart, one day, things had changed.

You found him crying in your shared bedroom; chest heaving as he sobs into his palms, occasionally pawing at his bandages and tearing the soft fabric. He was so scared, that day, that moment; everything seemed to have been frozen as you two lock eyes, and for a moment, he's absolutely sure that his worst fears have come true, that you will shun him and kick him and sneer at him in disgust, before leaving and never coming back.

Oh, he was so surprised to learn that wasn't the case; when you had shushed him and pulled him into a soft, gentle, hug, and told him it would be alright, despite not knowing what he was crying about, he almost giggled; you didn't hate him? even after knowing his past? you didn't hate the monster that was in your arms?

Of course not, you told him. You're not a monster, Osamu, you murmur, hand carding through his hair as he shudders in your arms.

He blinks, once, twice; before fresh tears come into his eyes (these are ones of happiness) and a soft smiles curls his lips upwards as he lets his façade melt away and allows himself just this once to be rocked to a comfortable nap, knowing that if you've seen this side of him and still chose to embrace him that nothing would hurt him now because you were here, and you cared, and you forgave him for his sins.

And his heart twists in melancholy; there's something just on the tip of his tongue, something about his past that he can't quite piece together, but you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head and the thoughts and sadness melt away until he is not Dazai Osamu, the demon prodigy of the Port Mafia, the ability user who harnesses No Longer Human, and he is simply just a man who has found someone who cares about him.

And he feels a little branch grow out of his cold, dead heart, and he tells himself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be loved by you.

--

shii bro this one was long asf... uhmmmm i kinda got carried away :') wHOoPsiE

still very new to the bsd fandom so i apologize if my little scrunkly is ooc

#dazai x reader #osamu x reader #dazai osamu #bungo stray dogs spoilers #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd angst #bsd comfort

[idolatrybarbie]

the world tipped on its side

chapter six - the adults are talking

series masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: francisco "frankie" morales x f!reader

word count: 4.9k

rating & summary: explicit | life is ugly. life is beautiful.

warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, longing, angst, mention of surgery, physical injury, blood, emergency services, depictions of post-traumatic stress disorder.

notes: i put angst in the middle of the porn and i'm not even sorry. alas, we have reached the penultimate chapter and therefor the consequences of @wannab-urs actions (hurting my feewings through fic).

Frankie ducks low below your waist, kissing up your calves. He’s been moving up and down your legs and between your thighs for a while now; never where you need him. Fifteen minutes of gentle touches and kitten licks to the sensitive skin between your legs. Another five, and you’re going to kill him.

“Frankie,” you groan, tugging at his hair.

He chuckles, nosing at your thigh. “Yes?”

“Please. Please just—Frankie, touch me.”

“I like to watch you,” he says.

“And I like to come,” you say.

Frankie glances at the alarm clock by your bedside. “I know that if the last hour proves anything.”

It’s barely four o’clock in the morning.

Nightmares startled you from sleep at around two-thirty. You’d woken up thrashing in bed, almost elbowing him in the nose. His arms, warm and weighty around you, had you melting back into his chest.

Now he’s halfway down the mattress, teasing you. You can’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’re pretty when you’re pissy,” Frankie says.

You hook a leg around his back, toes digging into his shoulder. “Then I must be fucking gorgeous.” You think back to when you first met him: an interaction dripping in sarcasm, and god, his smile. The same smile is flashing up at you now.

“Can’t disagree with you there,” Frankie says.

“You aren’t being a very good unicorn, Francisco.” You give another tug to his brown locks, strands of grey peppered in here and there.

Frankie runs a finger over your core, sliding gently through wetness. You shift your legs, moving yourself closer. He’s right there. If only you could just…

Abruptly, he puts his mouth on you. You gasp at the contact. Frankie flattens his tongue and licks at you. Cursing under your breath, you pull his head closer to you. He groans against your skin as his nose nicks your clit.

Frankie makes out with your cunt, holding your legs open with his hands. He’s been gentle with you, taking you apart over and over as the hours grow longer into the day. Carefully, he gives you two fingers, words catching in your throat. He moves them in and out of you slowly, thumb moving up to your sensitive bundle of nerves.

With the teasing, the tasting, and the fact that he’s brought you there twice already, it doesn’t take long to fall over the edge again.

Baring teeth, you turn your face into the pillow. “Fuck Frankie.”

“Good?” he asks.

Your leg falls from his shoulder back onto the sheets. “Sorry.”

Frankie’s brow furrows. “You’ve lost me,” he says, kissing his way back up your body. He stops when he’s at eye level, uncertainty awash on his face.

“Came early. I’m like the old men in those commercials.”

It’s still slightly embarrassing, the span of time you’ve been out of practice sexually. Frankie usually foregoes the conversation in favour of screwing your brains out when you mention it; that’s been the pattern for the last three days. Still, it sits with you.

“I don’t think there’s a through-line between you and seniors on Cialis,” Frankie says.

“Other than both being Johnny-come-lately in the stamina department,” you say.

He frowns, then presses a kiss to your nose. “It’s not a competition.”

“Tell yourself that. Three in a row.”

“Okay, fine—the only competition here,” Frankie says, bringing a hand up to hold your cheek, “is between me and myself. You think too much.”

“I feel—”

“Bad, yeah, which makes you feel insecure. You said this in the car yesterday,” he supplies for you. The both of you have been driving to work together. It makes the most sense when he’s sleeping over anyway. “And I’m telling you it’s no biggie.”

You stare at him, the word biggie bouncing between your ears too long before a snort escapes you. How is this man real?

“Sorry, sorry. You were reassuring me emotionally,” you say.

“I don’t wanna be…dismissive,” he chooses the word carefully. “I get that—you know, and we can always talk about it. But don’t stress about me. I like you the way you are. All the ways you are. So don’t go changing.”

Your heart beats heavily in your chest. Communication between the two of you has been open since that night you found him outside your door, and it’s a little dizzying how nice it all feels; a little scary how much you want him. He’s looking at you again. Looking capital L, adoration and all. Those eyes hold your secrets, and yours his. How he makes you feel is almost too much to bear. A part of you that had been laid to rest is alive and clicking. Now here you are, sitting on the grenade.

You say, “I want you inside of me,” and Frankie complies immediately.

He fists his cock for a moment before he slides in, filling you. Staying like that for a moment, he watches. You bite your tongue between your teeth, running a hand over the span of his chest down to his stomach. Then your hand moves to your own body, caressing your breasts, fingers sliding over your pelvis. Pressing down on the skin there coincides with his first few thrusts. You swear you can feel him through your skin.

Every kiss of his hips to yours is a promise. Every breath, rough in your ear, sounds like a prayer. Frankie won’t stop saying something. You can barely process the words. Any more and you think you might choke.

He’s inside of you, all around you. Your body is cold while he is roasting. Joined together now, you must be running a fever. You want this forever. Want him forever. One day, there will be words adequate enough to tell him. To say it. Until then, you have to hope that the way you hug him closer to your body is enough.

You think Frankie knows, but you think a lot of things. You think you know how he’s going to react to the news of your surgery, but the uncertainty is what’s kept you from telling him. It’s all still fresh. Mia doesn’t even know. She is first on the list, then him.

You think you wish you had more people to tell, more people to celebrate or commiserate with. A family that dreams about all the vacations you could go on if things go well. Someone else who would bite their fingernails at night over it, worry lodged deep in the back of their skull. Someone to get sick over it for you.

That thought’s a little too blurry and sharp to touch right now.

A sharper jab of Frankie’s hips brings you back to him.

“Shit, right there,” you whine.

“You’re distracted,” he says.

“Thinking.”

“Well, stop.” Frankie emphasizes the point with another slam of his hips, jostling your body.

He watches your tits jiggle, leaning down to kiss at your throat. He finds a faster pace inside you, pulling you up from the mattress carefully to sit in his lap. The new angle has Frankie deeper within you, thoughts all but erased as you bask in the feeling. Face to face, he uses the flesh at your waist for leverage to thrust up into you. You lift your hips to meet him on each push, mashing his face into yours in an ugly kiss.

Like this. Things should always be like this.

-

Frankie drives your car this morning, letting you rest your head against the cool condensation of the window. The drive started with the stereo on, but he’s been gradually turning it down until the front seat is left in almost silence. One of your CD’s is stuck in the player, lodged in the mouth after you fed it the disk last week. Frankie says he’ll fix it for you once shooting wraps, but you don’t mind. It’s a mix Mia made for you ages ago, back in school. You used to play it on the clunky, thick laptop you brought with you everywhere, scratched to shit as the motors turned painfully.

Stringy folk guitar and muttering, stripped-back vocals barely hum above the intuitive sound and sensation of the car’s wheels rolling. The window trembles between your skin and the open air, many a pothole gracing this stretch of pavement. Frankie’s coffee sits in a travel mug next to yours, the bold and smoky smell wafting throughout the vehicle. You tell yourself everything right now is perfect, even though you’ve never had a chance to witness perfection. This is probably as close as anyone ever gets.

Now would be the best time to tell him. Slip it in between the passing trees and Frankie’s occasional taps on the steering wheel. I’ve decided to go under the knife for a life-changing surgery. Life changing in either direction, I could be royally screwed here. I’ve known for weeks and didn’t say anything. No, Mia doesn’t know. What do you wanna do for lunch?

Not…great.

Frankie won’t be mad. You know that. And yet whenever you play out potential

scenarios in your head, the conversation always devolves into angry yelling. Frankie morphs into your father and suddenly it’s game over. You’ve come up with a dozen horrible, lying little schemes to skirt around telling him or anyone. Maybe you decide to up and take a vacation. Or perhaps there’s a quick job that’s untraceable through the union or the net, someplace far enough away. Philly, or maybe Portland…

Of course, your ideas always fall apart. They sound ridiculous when you rehearse them out loud. Mia would never let you disappear like that and guilt around Frankie would eat you whole before you’d even finished packing a bag. Your assuaged addiction to lying is what’s spurring them on. Frankie knows that there’s something up with you, but hopefully, that’s all he can tell.

Today is the big day. Frankie has a few more dry runs of landing that helicopter before Ashton will start rolling, getting the real deal. After that, if there are no re-shoots required during post-production, you’ll be free and clear of this movie and its primadonna director. Life will return to being yours, at least for a little while. Frankie will start, continue being yours, hopefully for much longer than that.

Your car pulls into the flat, deadened grass that has been defined as the parking lot over the past few weeks. You wonder how long it will take the forest to heal from the damage. The grass, maybe a season—but you remember the front lawn of your dad’s house, how the edges he drove over never grew back quite right. The crew had a handful of shorter trees cut down to make sufficient space for Ashton’s extensive video village. Surely the studio will toss a couple thousand dollars at an environmentalist organization and find a way to shoehorn it into the movie’s credits.

You go through a handful of dry runs with Frankie in the chopper, the up-down-up-down of it all making you motion sick just watching. The sun is out, good weather lending itself kindly to the practice as Frankie moves through the sky over and over. You can feel Ashton’s agitation, even from almost fifteen feet away. He watches the helicopter through a pair of binoculars from his director’s chair, but you half wonder if the lenses are really trained on the back of your skull.

You call another run to get the camera movement down, more blocking taking place somewhere, somehow. You’d almost feel bad for the camera department if the director of photography didn’t enable Ashton Marilyn’s insanity. It’s hard to pity the above-the-line crew member making a grand a day to enable his on-set terrorism.

You text Mia an update when everyone breaks for the hour. She’s at home swatching fabrics like a mad woman, looking for the perfect shade of millennial pink for the wedding’s tablecloths.

They’re either too deep or too pasty, her message reads.

Pasty as in…? you send back.

Grey. Washed out. Fugly, she responds.

In your lap is paperwork from Dr. Lopez, sent to your apartment somewhere amidst the Frankie frenzy of the last few days. You haven’t had time to look it over with him around. Looking between the papers and your phone, you send Mia one more message.

I’m sure whatever pink you choose will look great. Hey—call me later OK? It’s important.

Before you receive a reply, Frankie finds you scarfing down your lunch alone in the production trailer. You’ve got a lawn chair wedged between two camera dollies, with plastic tubs of miscellaneous equipment at your back. The bones in your spine crinkle as you straighten up in your seat. You pull the earbuds from your ears to talk to him, tucking information on your surgery into your personal copy of the movie's script. The thick stack of paper in your lap looks fairly inconspicuous, the top page a neon yellow massacre over a random page of dialogue.

"Hey," you say quickly.

"Thought I'd find you here."

"Right. No office out in the woods."

Your bag is on the other side of the room. Balancing a plastic container and the papers in one hand and your phone and earbuds in the other, you cross the trailer past him.

Frankie's shoulder bumps yours as you pass him, fingers curling to keep the script in your precarious grip. The effort is futile. The pages slip from your hand, splaying across the floor as they fall in a flurry.

You and Frankie move into action at the same time, ducking low to collect them. Your salad spills as you let the container fall, your phone clattering down next to you.

"I've got it." The words rush out of your mouth.

It's too late; Frankie's already gathering up the paper.

"Frankie…"

He doesn't seem to hear you, too distracted by the words his eyes have caught on to notice the disaster you've created around you.

When he looks up at you, he's deeply confused.

"What's this?"

He turns the offending page over for you to see. Patient pre-surgical instruction packet. There's no denying it; you've been caught red-handed. He says your name, asking you again.

"I've been trying to figure out a way to tell you," you say. "My doctor, she had this opportunity for surgery…for my spine. Said it could really help me." Or hurt me.

"And you're going through with it." Frankie's words are not a question.

You nod, waiting for the heat and anger.

"That's amazing!" he grins. Truly, Frankie is beaming. This might be the brightest smile you've ever seen on a human being.

"Well it isn't perfect," you rush out. His smile only falters a little. "There could be…complications."

"What kind of complications?" he asks.

"I don't know…it could make things easier. Or much, much worse. Most patients see improvements to their health overall."

"Okay," Frankie nods.

He gets off of his knees, giving you a hand up before he gives you the stack of papers back.

"Okay? That's it?"

Frankie blinks. "Yeah…?"

"You don't have any questions? Comments, concerns?"

"You'll tell me what you want me to know," he says. Frankie speaks as if it's obvious. Everything is so easy with him, sometimes infuriatingly so. Like right now.

"You're not worried at all?" you ask.

"I didn't say that," Frankie says. "I mean—clearly it's happening, right? I'm happy for you. What else is there to say?"

Your simmering anger is unjustified. You're being an ass, really, but you expected something more; braced yourself for it, prepped for doom. Now that you know it's not coming, you feel cheated.

"Something could go wrong." Horribly, horribly wrong.

"You said most—"

"But not all."

“I like those odds,” says Frankie. You give him a look, almost disbelieving. “What? I’m a little bit of a gambling man.”

“You’re a gambling man, you’re a bartering man. Next, you’re going to tell me that you’re a snake oil salesman.”

Frankie’s face softens the slightest bit, a splash of hurt in his body language. You’re accusing him, and you can’t help it. Sometimes love feels like catching someone in a lie.

“There’s nothing phony here,” he says firmly. You stand feet away from him, and yet you feel caged in. This warmth from Frankie is still settling in, determining itself as welcome or weary. “I’m just a man. A man who sees you and—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, backtracking. The bitch is back. “It’s sweet. I understand.”

“Can I finish?” Frankie asks. “I see you, and I want you. Will always want you. Even when you don’t want me to.” His words weigh down the air between you like lead.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

He doesn't have to do this with you—put up with you. He's become your soft spot, a place safe away from the rigidity of the rest of life. You feel yourself getting comfortable, even as you bristle against him like this. As much as you want him to be that for you, need him to, you feel culpable somehow. Your wagon is hitched to Francisco Morales now, for better or for worse. The only way it’s coming off is if you’re run off the goddamn road.

Frankie shakes his head. “We never have to do anything,” he says.

That’s one of the many good things here, you suppose. Choice. The freedom to live and to love. This thing between you exists based on choice. You hope that Frankie keeps his word and never stops choosing you.

Nodding, you ask, "You're sure?"

Frankie approaches slowly, arms already out when he wraps them around your waist.

"Yes," he says, resting his forehead against yours.

"Serious?" It's not really you asking. There's some version of you that remembers promises long broken, words that dripped like poison into your heart. You can't do that again.

"As a heart attack," he whispers, features deathly serious. And then, "I love you."

You let out a small, airy gasp. It brings a smile back to Frankie's face.

"I-I love you too," you say.

"Good," he sighs. "I was going out on a limb there." The smile grows and grows, morphing into a shit-eating grin.

You slap at his chest lightly, biting your tongue between your teeth. "You're such a dick."

"Yes I am."

You kiss him and time stops. The world is frozen, tipped on its side as Frankie presses himself closer to you. A life like this. Just like this.

-

After lunch, Ashton forgoes another dry run on the helicopter stunt, opting to finally go to camera. You walk with Frankie to the spot where the helicopter sits along the brush. You’re running through the process with him once more, clipboard in your hand as you go over everything. At some point, you start rambling.

“Hey,” he stops you.

“Hi.”

“It’s gonna be fine.”

You nod. “Right, yeah.”

Your stomach twists in knots. Really, you’d like another dry run. Really, you’d like for Frankie to forego the scene altogether. This is what he does for a living, but you can’t help your nerves. The wind is blowing a little harder than it was this morning, causing blankets of leaves to shake and sway, potentially into the flight path he’s going to follow.

You want to tell him not to get in; call the whole production off or push it back another day. Maybe you could manage to convince Ashton that the movie doesn’t need a live helicopter—that CGI suits it just fine. Frankie winks at you. Another gut lurch.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he says. Out of sight from anyone else, Frankie gives you a light peck on the cheek.

“Fine. Everything will be fine,” you nod. To both of you, it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. “Break a leg.” Walking away now, you give him a wave.

“I’ll try!” Frankie calls back to you.

As the tall Georgia grass slides over your ankles, you shake your head. Who knew life could be like this? Who knew that someone could get almost everything they wanted and then some? For the longest time, you were unlovable. Damaged goods. A failure in your career and in your personal life, relegated to working on shitty B flicks; taking jobs where they came as you rotted alone in the southern heat of your apartment. Now, anything feels possible. Anything is possible. We change. For worse or for better.

Trudging back to the video village, you wait to hear the rumble of a helicopter engine before settling the muffs of the intercom over your ears. The headset sits heavy on your skull, agitating the base of your neck as you watch the helicopter ascend above the green. Then it sits in the air, blades spinning as Frankie waits.

“Action!” Ashton yells.

“That’s you,” you say, queuing Frankie over the comms.

You watch the helicopter veer closer to the grass, just like he’s practiced. It’s a tight squeeze, but Frankie always makes it. You’re smiling as the helicopter gets closer to the ground. Really, it’s only a few seconds, but it’s all drawn out in your mind. You can see each piece of the machine move exactly when it’s supposed to, a body that breathes when you do, twisting as it adjusts.

That’s why you don’t have to hear the horrible chattering noise before you know something’s wrong.

“Fish?” you call over the line.

“Yeah, hold on a sec,” Frankie grits out.

“Is everything alright?”

The helicopter jerks slightly, like it’s being pushed around on the playground. “I just—think I nicked a tree or something…”

Shit. “Fish, talk to me. What’s going on up there?”

He doesn’t answer, and you watch as the helicopter swerves directly against the movements you’ve rehearsed. It’s falling fast now, dipping onto its side.

“Frankie, please talk to me,” your voice grows frantic. Still nothing.

All you can do is watch in the few moments it takes for the helicopter to crash into the dirt, skidding to a halt as soil and green spray in every direction. Someone is screaming, an ugly shriek that cuts like ripped paper. It takes a minute to realize that it’s you. You start to run for the first time in years, legs pumping behind you. Your lungs are ready to quit the closer you get to the wreckage, pulling in rough and smoky air. Something is burning inside. You really shouldn’t be here, but you can’t leave him. No, not ever.

The helicopter’s blades have stopped spinning, digging into the ground as the machine acknowledges that something is very wrong. Just over your own breathing and the yells of the rest of the crew, you can hear a banging. One of the windshield panels rattles with the noise as you approach.

“Frankie?! Frankie! Are you alright?” A stupid question.

You don’t hear a reply, but the opaque glass continues to move and crack. You kick at it from your side, getting your foot through. Some of the glass slices through your pant leg—a worry for another time.

“Frankie?”

“I’m here,” comes a voice.

His voice, and then his hand, strong and tan and slightly bloody. You take hold of him, pulling Frankie out through jagged, glassy jaws. There’s a deep gash on his face packed with grime. Blood trickles into his beard and down his neck. Some of the dirt must have flown inside with the force of the impact, flecks of it in his hair and around his eyes. But Frankie is here. He’s breathing.

You’re fussing over him too close to danger, running your hands over his body to sense any damage when he pulls you away.

“We gotta move!” he yells, and immediately you can tell: this is not your Frankie.

His eyes are steely and dark, no vulnerability there. He tugs on you a little too rough, pain flaring in your wrist as Frankie twists it. He begins dragging you away from the burning aircraft, back to relative safety near the treeline. You know what this is; it’s the reason you can never comfortably see the beach again, why swimming pools are a no-go. All those years of fighting other people’s wars put something bad in Frankie’s brain, engulfing his psyche and taking control.

Once you’re closer to the rest of the crew, you pry his hand off of you and take a step back.

“Frankie, it’s okay,” you say gently. “You’re having a panic attack. It’s going to be alright.”

“We need to go!” he yells.

“I know it feels very real and very scary, but you’re going to be okay.”

Frankie puts his hands over your shoulders. “This isn’t safe,” he says, the closest he can get to calm. “We have to go. You’re in danger.”

You don’t touch him now, resisting the urge to cup his bleeding cheek in your palm. His grip on you loosens slightly, but you stay with him. “Look at where we are,” you say, nodding in the direction away from the wreck. Frankie follows your eyes. “Those gorgeous trees, all those fuckin’ ugly cars. The green leaves, the tall grass.”

A breeze whispers between you downwind, blessedly ushering smoke in the opposite direction. Frankie keeps his eyes open and breathes in deep, trying to ground himself. Carefully, he drops his hands from you. He’s still agitated, twitchy as his eyes dart around. Someone from the crew—you’ve forgotten his name—offers you a blanket for Frankie. He takes it from you immediately, cocooning his broad shoulders as you both sit under a tree and wait for an ambulance. There is a good foot of space between you. Frankie doesn’t say anything for a long while, somewhere in his head. You stand to leave him be.

He looks up at you immediately. “Are you leaving?”

“Don’t you want me to?” you ask. In moments like this, all you wish for is to be alone. You don't need to be another thing keeping him on edge, even if the prospect of leaving him like this pinches at your lungs as much as the smoke.

“No,” Frankie says. Simple as.

“Okay.”

You sit back down. Your wrist is still sore. Cradling it with your other hand, you stare at it, hoping the flesh and muscle will somehow tell you what’s wrong.

“I’m sorry." Frankie's voice comes out small and broken.

You look up from your arm to meet his eyes. “For what?”

“I grabbed you,” he says.

“You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“Still.”

“Thank you,” you say, accepting the apology.

You’re playing it cool for his sake. Under the sleeves of your shirt, stains of stress sweat are surely soaking through the fabric. Your heart can’t seem to stop the cascading surge against your ribs, an unstoppable harsh beat in your chest. You’re both triggered and a mess, but for some reason, you’ve taken to focusing on Frankie right now. Probably because that is doing something; taking action instead of flailing hopelessly and drowning in the feeling. You can’t make him feel better, but being here makes you a little less scared. Your relationship with Frankie is symbiotic. Not co-dependence, a parasitic latch, but unifying. He has become your partner, with all the details that word entails.

Sirens stutter in the distance, getting closer with every blink of your eyes. The ambulance pulls into the empty space between your car and a tall patch of grass. A pair of young people get out of the vehicle. Ashton is there before you can take another breath, pointing in your direction. As the paramedics approach, Frankie touches a hand to your arm. He takes your good hand in his own, squeezing lightly.

The woman in uniform tells the both of you her name, that she's here to help. Her words are garbled in your ears. You watch as she lays a trauma blanket over Frankie’s shoulders before she takes one look at you. Shaking, you're barely holding it together physically. Your cheeks are tight with dried tears, though you're unsure when you started crying. She starts walking back to the ambulance for another.

Several fire trucks arrive on the scene, their thick hoses snaking between nature and equipment to reach the fire that's started up around the wreck. It's small, manageable, you think. Your eyes focus in on the flames as they lick at the grass. Orange meets yellow and red dangerously, the fire growing and falling. Harsh sprays of water try to fight it off. You stare at the broken helicopter with pity. It looks so sad, personhood possessing its wheels and shattered window. Consumed by fire, surely it's destroyed as it burns. All that will be left is char and broken glass, a mangled machine.

The thought that Frankie could have died in there pops up, ugly and dirty as bile touches your throat. He didn't. He didn't and that's what matters. Nothing else. He's alive.

They put Frankie up on a stretcher, despite his protests that he absolutely does not need one. It takes a minute—you brace yourself, ready to stop him from decking the man trying to help him—but he settles. As Frankie relents, they load him into the box. You watch as they get ready to leave from the grass, one door already closed. He tells them to wait.

“She’s coming with me,” Frankie says, pointing at you.

You blink, standing up at the acknowledgment. You look between Frankie’s face and the two EMS workers. The woman offers you her hand to help you up into the back. Meeting Frankie’s eyes again, you ask him a silent question.

You’re sure?

He nods. You take her hand. Partners. That’s what this is

tags:@wannab-urs / @anoverwhelmingdin / @iamskyereads / @for-a-longlongtime

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #pedrostories #pedro pascal #fic: the world tipped on its side #aaaand post!

[sirfrogsworth]

hey man, well done for getting out there with your camera when it must be unspeakably exhausting sometimes. i'm really enjoying all the urban photography! but i'm too shy to say it non-anon! keep it up though!

Thanks!

I've been challenging myself to go on a photography field trip once or twice a month. I realized if I scout a location on Google Maps and do some pre-planning with the street view, I can drive somewhere, set up and take my pictures, and be done within an hour or so.

For my bridge pictures I was looking for a good vantage point and street view had this...

And I knew I could make that work. So on my way to get more eggs I decided to take a detour. I timed it for sunset and headed over there.

Unfortunately there is a really confusing bridge you have to drive over to get there. There was a stoplight, but there was no intersection.

I could not figure out the purpose of this damn stoplight. I was sitting there for nearly 5 minutes and didn't understand why the light wasn't changing. So I thought maybe it was broken or something and just drove ahead.

Then I got to the middle of the bridge and realized my error.

The bridge only had one lane for car traffic. And the light had a sensor that told you if a car was coming from the other direction. And so I was face to face with a car in the same lane.

The area on the right is a bike lane. And there is a huge bump separating the car lane and the bike lane. And unless I wanted to do the world's longest drive in reverse, I had to hop that little curb into the bike lane. As I proceeded forward I could hear it just barely scraping the bottom of my car.

I was very embarrassed.

I'm really hoping I didn't damage anything. But I could tell it was just barely kissing the bottom of my car and only 2 or 3 times so I think it is okay.

But I learned an important lesson.

They don't put out random stoplights for no reason.

In any case, I was able to get my photos and my eggs and be home in about an hour in a half. And that is just about the limit of my energy.

It's actually easier than going to the movies. 3 hours being upright was just too much for me. And I get to spend the next week editing photos and feeling artistically satisfied.

So my photo field trips have been a big help to my mental health and usually only have a day or two of post-exertional malaise. Which is pretty manageable. Going to the movies was usually double that. Which is problematic because I am thinking about going to see Dune 2... which is a 3 hour movie. So 4 hours out and about including driving and whatnot.

I've picked out my next photo field trip already.

This may look like a boring highway, but if I go at night every single one of those cars will leave a long bright light trail that will probably span all the way to the horizon. My only issue is I could really use a companion to go with me. I don't feel safe going by myself. But hopefully I can get that figured out by the time I am ready to go.

I took over 250 photos at the bridge the other night. And I am having trouble choosing which ones are best to share. So I have decided to do some very interesting edits to make them all a bit different. I will be sharing one of those shortly. But I'm a little worried you all are going to get very sick of this bridge.

Thanks for writing in. I hope you have a lovely day.

[siriuslyshouldislytherin]

Two Halves of a Whole

(Part 1)

Pairing: Sirius Black × Potter!reader

Summary : Y/N Euphemia Potter is the younger child to Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. James introduces Y/N to his gang on the very first day of her school. As years pass , Sirius Black , James' best mate starts falling hard for his best mate's sister. Will she feel the same or will it be a one-sided love story ? Read more to find out.

A/N: PS: I am gonna publish this in 10 or so parts spanning over the 7 years of their Hogwarts education. I will post the link to the next part in this part when I publish it. So do check it out.

Warning : mostly fluff , James being protective , and a little angst between James and Sirius , Remus being a brotherly figure to the reader.

Navigation / Part 1 / Part 2

The Potters'

The name was embedded in red and gold on the wooden plate which was hung on the front door of the house.

Inside , lived two children , James and Y/N with their parents , Fleamont and Euphemia.

Fleamont and Euphemia were proud parents to both their kids. James being the elder one of the two , Y/N being the younger one.

Fleamont and Euphemia were way more protective towards Y/N as she was a premature baby and fragile at birth. She had been in the New-born care unit in St. Mungo's for a total of two months before her mother and father had brought her home. Back then , Euphemia had cried onto Fleamont's shoulder everytime she saw her little one in a little glass box , her body inserted with tubes.

Once , James had seen this and since that very moment , he had made a mental note to himself , always protecting his sister and being her guardian angel.

"Mum ! Dad ! Jamie ! Where are you all ?" She asked around the house.

Upon no response , she entered the living room only to get startled by the sudden burst of confetti on her.

"Happy birthday Niff !" James ruffled her hair and brought her into a bear hug.

"Happiest birthday , Little one !" Her mother and father wished her at the same time.

She freed herself from James and thanked him as she went to her parents to give them their fair share of hugs.

"Thanks mum ! Thanks dad !" She exclaimed.

Fleamont and Euphemia started peppering kisses all over her face as she giggled.

~time skip~

"Niff , you have to walk straight through the barrier and you will find yourself on the platform. Look at me and James , how we do it , then you can follow us with your mother. Alright ?"

"Yes dad. " She looked at her mother who , in turn , gestured her to look at her brother and father.

Y/N walked through the barrier with her mother as she stood on the Platform 9¾ with her trunk in the trolley and her owl Ozwald hooting happily in the cage.

Her head snapped at the voice of the sound of a trunk getting loaded onto the train , when she saw James and Fleamont load James' trunk onto the train.

She picked her trunk and started walking towards the train , trying to not fall flat on her face. Her mother wasn't very happy with Y/N dragging her trunk on her own because apparently , according to Euphemia , 'The Trunk is too big for Y/N. '

"Let us help you , dear. " Fleamont requested her as James scuttled over the the other side , to help her.

"I can - help myself - dad !" She dropped her trunk onto the train and heaved a sigh of relief.

Y/N heard the train horn as other students gradually boarded the train.

"Now come and give your old mum-dad a hug !" James and Y/N ran towards their parents as she said ," you aren't old mum-dad. "

Fleamont and Euphemia both took Y/N to the side as they crouched down to her eye level.

"Mum ! Dad ! Don't cry now. Else I will cry and then Jamie will never let me live through it !"

"My baby is finally going to Hogwarts !" Euphemie wiped away her tears.

Y/N gave both of them a kiss on their cheeks and went off towards the train.

Euphemia and Fleamont turned to James.

"James , take care of your sister. Never leave her alone and most importantly write to us twice a week. "

"Don't you worry , mum and dad. I will always be there for her. " James smiled at them as both of them hugged the boy and he ran towards the train.

"Niff , stick to me. No loitering around. "

"Why ?" She whined.

"Because I say so. "

"But you are going to find your friends and have fun with them. So let me find kids of my age. "

"I am going to include you in all the fun I do. Besides my friends are gonna be just an year elder than you. So do as I say. "

James pulled his trunk down the corridor and entered the 2nd compartment.

Y/N followed him as she saw her brother and 3 other boys hugging each other.

"Come in , Niff ! These are my friends. Remus Lupin , Peter Pettigrew and -"

"Sirius Black. " A boy with jet black hair stretched his hand forward for Y/N to shake but James glared at him , causing him to pull his hand back.

"I am -"

"Y/N Euphemia Potter. " The three boys spoke together.

"You know about me ?"

"Ofcourse. We know everything about you. That - that how - dear -"

"How much of a pain you are - for me to handle !" James said just to tease her.

"Jamie !"

"Oh no ! Absolutely not ! He loves you so much that he can write a bloody Encyclopedia on you." Sirius said.

"Can you really turn a matchstick into a needle ?"

"Oh yes I can. " Remus said to her as her jaw dropped literally on the floor.

"Can you perhaps show me how to do it ?"

"Yeah sure !" Remus pulled out a matchstick out of his pocket as he did a fair bit of wand work and turned it into a needle.

"Jamie !! Did you see it ?"

"Calm Niff. It is about few months that you can do it too. "

She looked at the four of them with a very excited expression , her and Sirius's gaze lingering for a bit longer.

As she wanted to do it on her own , she insisted Remus to teach her.

"No ! It doesnt work for me !" She whined.

"You're doing it a bit more aggressively , Niff !" Remus said.

"What did you say , Lupin ?" James said turning at Remus.

"What ?" Remus deadpanned.

"Only I get to call her Niff !"

"Stop entering your overprotective brother mode , Jamie !"

They quarelled for a few more minutes as Sirius looked at her with a grin on his face. Peter noticed that and said ," Stop smiling Sirius. They're fighting. "

Sirius snapped out of his trance as he looked between both of them and said ,"I wasnt smiling , Peter. "

~time skip~

"James , I think it is about time you should change into school uniform. "

"There still is half an hour. " James said.

"James , mate she is right. Even I have changed. "

James thought about it for a moment before standing up ," if you say so. " He fetched his clothes and headed out of the door.

"This is not going to end well. Think about it again. "

"Remus , don't be a spoilsport. This is just a prank. " Sirius spoke.

The prank they were going to play was a silly little one - as per Sirius and Y/N. Sirius was going to have his arm around Y/N's shoulder and mutter something in her ear as she was supposed to giggle and look at him.

"Sorry mate , got late -" James stood shaken as he saw Sirius and Y/N sitting in such close proximity , his arm flung over Y/N's shoulder as she giggled looking at him.

James took two steps towards Sirius and grabbed him by the collar.

"I-told-you-not-to-go-near-her -"

"Stop it , James ! Leave him and first look at your sister. "

James turned around as soon as he heard Remus only to find Y/N standing between Remus and Petter and hyperventilating due to crying.

"Niff ! Don't cry. I am here and I am not angry on you ! " He stepped towards her as her figure grew smaller , holding onto Remus out of fear.

"James , sit down. Sirius , you too - Y/N sit and have this. " She looked up , at him and accepted the piece of chocolate he gave her.

Y/N looked at Sirius and mouthed him a 'I'm sorry' and he returned it with an assuring nod , mouthing her 'are you okay ?'. She in-turn mouthed him a Yes.

When the train came to a halt on the Hogmeade station , their trunks unloaded , James turned to her and said ," I'm sorry , Niff. I didn't mean to hurt you in any way. But you know how I am when it comes to you. I'm so so so sorry. "

"It's okay , Jamie. Talk to Sirius. Okay ?"

She gave him a smile and followed Hagrid as she was waiting for the Hogwarts doors to open for her , waiting for a whole new world which was filled with fun , excitement and ofcourse - studies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The banners and dividers aren't mine. The credits go to @cafekitsune. Thanks a lot for these banners. They helped me a lot.

Taglist :

@gaminggirlsstuff @turvi @dramaisthelifebloodofgoodstories

#harry potter #sirius orion black #james potter #potter family #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius×potter!reader #siriusblack×potter!reader

[iyokko]

introducing: iyo

sup! i’m iyo. i’ve had this account for a while, but finally decided to start using it. this is probably the most formal i’ll be for a while. also, a txt version of the image with more info is below in the cut!

introduction pt. 2

general stuff

iyokko — any prns (they/them default, afab)

hi there! i’m a midwestern digital artist who also likes to dabble into worldbuilding. i’m quite busy with schoolwork and extracurriculars, but i like to make time to share my insane ramblings i have throughout the day.

i’ve got a lovely girlfriend! i’m fruity, unfortunately. i might talk about her occasionally, but i’ll try not to since this is the public eye.

i have a pretty poor attention span though, and i’ll probably appear periodically on this account. when that happens, i’m still alive! feel free to send me stuff.

fandoms

here are some of my interests as of late:

murder drones

aphmau (why i joined tumblr! was a mystreet and minecraft diaries kid growing up.)

alice in borderland

extraordinary attorney woo

wings of fire + fantribes (also a wof kid! still am. make most of my extra cash through the ever-popular fantribes on discord.)

blue lock (manga)

beastars + beast complex (both manga)

oshi no ko (manga — stopped reading it for now since it’s gone off on the deep end)

hallow knight

danganronpa (the disease infected me in middle school and it’s sadly rotted in my head permanently)

one piece (just got into it! wish me luck)

warrior cats (read this at the same time as wof and aph. no wonder i came out so gay)

other stuff too! this is just from the top of my head.

qna

what brought you to joining tumblr?

aphmau brought me here! i saw the community, and as a lifelong aphmau fan—with a rewrite in the works by the way—i just had to join in. tumblr’s been on my radar for a while now to join!

what/when will you post?

i’ll be generally posting my art and ramblings! unfortunately, i probably won’t have a very set schedule, but i’ll try to post at least once or twice a week.

what should i stay for?

if you like my personality or art style, then you should stick around! i can’t promise i’ll be talking about every fandom i’m in, but a few that have always stuck with me are danganronpa, aphmau, and wings of fire. those three will probably continue being posted about throughout my tumblr career, so if you like that sort of content, i might be up your alley.

my inbox—is it open?

it’s currently open! but please be patient with me, i’ve only ever lurked on tumblr before. actually using it is currently a mystery i’m uncovering.

any sideblogs to be aware of?

currently i have one other account for my mcd and myst rewrite! it’s called @iyo-mcd-rewrite! hopefully the link worked for that—if not, you’ll often see me reblog posts from it.

i might make others for my two other big fandoms (wof and danganronpa), but for now they’ll be contained in this main one!

do you have other accounts?

discord — iyokko

instagram — iyokko__

toyhouse — iyokko

twitter — iyokko185998

email — [email protected]

where do i contact you?

i’m most active on discord and toyhouse, but if you dm me on insta or email me, i’ll get it at a later date! twitter i am at a loss for on dms. that’s all for now!

#murder drones #digital illustration #intro post #introduction #blog intro #digital art #wof #wof art #wof oc #minecraft diaries #aphmau mcd #aphmau #aphblr #aphverse #aphmau mystreet #mcd #mystreet #dragon art #dragon #wof fanart #wings of fire fanart #alice in borderland #blue lock #beastars #warrior cats #warriors oc #murder drones fanart #murder drones art #lumine webtoon

[soaps-mohawk]

hi sorry if it feels like i’m pressuring you, but will there be a new chapter of cherry red, crimson blood anytime soon? i’m in love with it and i check your blog everyday

I'll tentatively say yes, there may be a new chapter coming tomorrow.

I originally wanted to finish a new chapter like every couple days but...they're long chapters and unfortunately, though I am unemployed currently, I still have things I have to do during the day.

I'd say realistically my goal is two chapters a week between appointments and other things. I've got a decent part of the next chapter done, and I was hoping to get it out today but unfortunately I spent the ungodly hours between 1:30 am and 5 am this morning violently ill, so my attention span today has not been great. 😬

That being said, after my appointment tomorrow, I'm planning on working on it for a bit, and hopefully I'll get it done and posted. If not, it will be out Friday by the latest.

There may be a bit of a delay on chapter 4 as it is quite the beefy chapter, and I'm planning another playthrough this weekend because I am constantly terrified about my characterization of the guys and I want to be sure that I really nail each of them.

So tl;dr - new chapter maybe coming tomorrow, and probably twice a week update schedule from this point on 💚

#answered

[n7punk]

2023 Writing Wrapped!

I think I forgot to do this last year but I was a little burnt out at the time. I had so much fun writing this year I wanted to do a little retrospective/celebration for it (which I encourage everyone to do! Even if you wrote just one fic, take a second to congratulation yourself for accomplishing it).

I wrote 34 fics and updated 118 times this year. Almost half of those were for the Children of the Crystal series (16 fics) but that series was so fun and clocks in at 121k so I'm totally okay with that. If anything, that's a bit of equalizing, because I know my fics are a lot longer on average than most people's since I write a lot of longer AUs (quick math off the top of my head is about half my fics are longer AUs) so now my words-per-fic average is probably a bit closer to usual lol. Actually that got me curious and my average is 20,176 which is honestly lower than I was expecting but still almost certainly higher than average since I've seen a lot of profiles without a single fic that long. Okay I'm a nerd and I did the math and it was only 21,041 before this year which is way more surprising since I really would have thought it was more.

Anyway, I posted 610k words this year between all my fics (though I wrote more in WIPs and upcoming projects). I had so much fun with a lot of the fics I did this year. Children of the Crystal is still a stand out for me, but I'm SO proud of 'the long way down' and I spent the first half of the year pretty feral for each idea as I tore through Hurricane Adora, As Many Lives As It Takes (To Be With You), Superzero, City of Angels, Trade Today For Tomorrow, and CotC of course. February through August I averaged 12 updates a month which is. insane. I updated daily for 12 days in a row in July/August for CotC, and I spent most of that fic series updating every other day.

A lot of that creative energy came from the health stuff that has been bogging me down for a few years (and especially last year) improving, and though I'm still dealing with that, I'm doing a lot better and it has really felt like rediscovering my creative passion. I had a span from like March-ish trhough August I called my "unhinged era" between how feral I was for my ideas, how much I was updating, and just how wild some of those ideas were lol. My slow down at the end of the year came from starting a new job that was very demanding and especially exhausting with my health issues, plus health issues for the rest of my family, but I've still been averaging updating once or twice a week since, so I'm happy with that given everything that has been going on.

Now let's get to the two big ones.

Writing streaks: Definitely not for everyone, but for me they're really motivating and 100% the reason I was able to keep up momentum these last three months with work. I wrote every single day this year. I still can't believe that. Sure, some days it was literally 50 words at the end of the day when I was exhausted, but I also had my highest single-word count day since I started recording them this year at 12,738 on July 18th when I was writing CotC. My previous record was 94 days in a row. 364 is a huge leap. I don't know where I'm going to go with my streak from here. On one hand, it was hugely motivating. On the other, you always want to be careful to prevent burnout. For now, allowing myself to count days where I barely do anything as long as I engage with my WIP seems like a good middle ground since it keeps me motivated and connected to what I'm writing while letting me mostly take time off. I'm exploring more creative hobbies like painting in my free time, though, and as long as I've created that day I don't necessarily feel the need to write, so we'll see if I reconsider my writing streak as a "creating" streak in the future, but for now I'm just going to see how long I can go.

And the final one... my stupid goal.

I can't remember if it was at the end of last year or the start of this one when an anon pointed out how much I had written and I realized I was something like .99% of all Catradora fics on AO3, but my ridiculous goal for this year was to get my fics to 1% of the entire Catradora tag. This goal... I half reached. It takes a bit of explaining.

First, when I first set that goal, I think needed to write twenty-something more fics to reach it. Obviously, I well exceeded that goal at 34 fics, but as I was writing, so was everyone else, so the number of fics I needed to write to reach 1% increased. In the sense of my original benchmark, I definitely passed my goal.

Second, as I write this, AO3 shows there are 11,632 Catradora fics. You can consider 1% of this to be either 116 or 117 depending on rounding. I have 117 She-ra fics, but one of those is a Glimbow fic with no mention of Catradora, so that takes me to 116. However, one of those 116 is tagged as Adora & Catra because it's the CotC fic from when they're small children and meeting for the first time. I consider it a Catradora fic, but it's not actually in the tag and thus doesn't contribute to it. As such, I've fallen short at 115/117, but I really do consider this goal complete for this year given that I passed the initial milestone, the rounding makes the final number debatably 116, and I do actually have 116 "Catradora-centric" fics. That said, I'm very aware those are technicalities and I have a special celebration planned for when I actually, officially become 1% of the tag, so look out for that :) It'll be a great way to celebrate the new year. I'm hoping/planning to do it in the next week or two.

The future: I'm ending this year and starting the next trying to clean up a bunch of WIPs since my fic folder is getting a little ridiculous with the (mostly Outside of the War) one-shots I've written one scene or just a description for, which feels like a really fitting way to end off the year, accomplishing my goals and making everything neat and tidy. I have like 7~ to work though, though my actual goal is maybe 4-5 since I don't want to "force" myself to work on an idea if I'm not feeling it at the second, but I also have a longer AU calling my name, and I don't want to ignore an idea interesting me either... so we'll see, but I'm excited for everything I'm working on right now, and that feels really good. I finished last year in kind of a rough place writing/creativity wise, and I'm finishing this year really excited for everything I did and everything upcoming, so that feels pretty great :)

Thank you to everyone who read and commented this year! I know I ran out of energy to keep up with comments a lot, but they really made me smile so much and I appreciate them so much. Some days they were the difference between the motivation to write 1000 words versus 50. Thanks for another great year!

#fic rambling #ficmeta #mylife

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls Season 2, Episode 15, "Lost And Found", Aka The Bracelet Has Breached Containment, Aka BraceletGate, Aka QuarterOnAStringGate, Part 6

Five minutes to go. We've finally arrived at the rotting meat of the episode. Since I won't watch Teach Me Tonight (or the episode that comes after it), this is the last episode for a good long while solely focused on Lorelai Gilmore's paranoia. Thank Gawd. I am drained.I have nothing left in me. She has sucked out my life force the way she sucks the lifeforce out of Dean Forrester. Parts 1-5 (!!) and all other episodes can be found in my pinned post.

Out of context, this looks terribly ominous.

Sweaterpaws.

Jess was seriously going to just go home and not even bother to ask for any money (well, he did say "I'll be back to collect it later, I know where you live", like the old timey Italian mobster he is). But he could have used that $5 (I do wish I could tell how much she's holding). Even though Jess must wait on Lorelai's table at his place of employment at least once a day every single day, I wager this is the first time Lorelai has ever paid him or tipped him squat. The boy was too stunned to speak. Better make sure its not Monopoly money or something.

I love how cautiously he takes it. He's such a smart boy, he knows this is a trap.

Time for my favorite #SadBaby joke, one I made up myself many years ago: Why does Jess Mariano love Santa Claus so much? Because unlike his father, at least Santa Claus visits once a year.

You dropped this, my king.👑 The fact that he's so utterly unbothered by Lorelai, making this a completely one-sided argument by an adult with a minor child will always be hilarious to me. Lorelai: Why would you do this? Oh, the DRAMATICS! I would never be dramatic.

WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER!!! How you like them apples?

"Don't whatever me, you ittle jerk! You let Rory run around PANICKED! Thinking she lost her boyfriend's bracelet! She was MISERABLE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

You ever wonder if Dean Forrester is perched on a rooftop somewhere with a sniper rifle and if Lorelai doesn't say "Dean is great" "Dean is tall and pretty" "Dean is the best lover I've ever had" out loud at least twice a day, it's lights out for her? It's either that or he's blackmailing her and is going to spill their illicit relationship if she doesn't kiss his ass on the regular, or maybe he used some advanced brainwashing techniques on her (this one is highly unlikely, he's barely literate) there are no other possible explanations for this behavior.

Way to go Lorelai, that's four rapid fire lies, exagerrations and falsehoods in the span of mere seconds. I'm impressed. I think Jess has to be dying of laughter on the inside right now listening to this crazy bitch's lunatic rantings. Actualy, in the second picture, from that angle it almost looks like Milo is smiling lol

Baby, you're so smart. I know you didn't finish high school, but you should still win some kind of award for smartness. #AdmireTheBaby

Lorelai can't call Dean "son", it would clash with his other title, "Rory's Future Stepfather."

Lorelai's face after Jess pointed out Rory didn't miss the bracelet for two weeks. SHE KNOWS HE'S RIGHT. Come on, just admit this kid is right and we can move on with our lives!

Lorelai goes back to the living room to contemplate how Jess Mariano is right about everything all the time.

Okay, since we know Luke isn't getting a new apartment, I'm intrigued. Ahhh, a second Nuclear Luke rant in one episode! It almost makes up for the rotting meat of the previous scene. "Taylor is systematically buying up the whole town! He's gonna turn it into Taylorville! Everyone will wear cardigans and have the same grass height! He's gonna buy the building next to the diner and turn it into a plate shop for freaks without enough brainpower to buy stamps! I walked around in a blind rage. I was crazy. I bought one of those Belgian waffles with the ice cream dipped in chocolate. But I didn't eat it, I'm upset, not suicidal." LMAAAAAO. Oh Luke Danes, I love you so fucking much. "I had your voice going around and around in my head, I heard you saying, "take a chance Luke, make a move! Can't have a single bed! So I bought the building!" Told you Lorelai's nagging wields tremendous power, leading men to emotional and financial ruin.

For a few brief moments, Lorelai is the voice of reason and rationality. She suggests he could back out of the purchase, or barring that, expand the diner or rent the building to someone Taylor really hates, which is an idea I could get behind. Luke has 100k to spend on real estate, huh. I've said this before, I envision an au where Luke signs the paperwork to just get Jess his own seperate apartment. Even he had to wait until his 18th birthday. Jess could contribute to some of the rent and bills and Luke could pick up the rest. Everyone would be happy. I just want Jess to thrive and be happy. I'm going to imagine him thriving and happy.

A moment later, Lorelai is back to her old self. Holy hell, woman. The fuck is wrong with you? Poor Rory! Can Luke front some of that 100k to pay for Rory's future therapy bills, that she'll surely need after the damage you've caused?

I honestly have no idea what the fuck she's talking about. When have they been "thrown together"? When you think about it, Rory and Jess so far have had minimal interaction aside from some brief conversations, the majority of which Lorelai isn’t even aware of, and we're 10 episodes in after Jess' arrival. Do you mean the Bracebridge Dinner? The thing you set up and invited him to? Literally, Lorelai doesn't even know that Rory and Jess interacted in her backyard this afternoon. Or do you mean the picnic basket auction? Where Jess committed the unspeakable crime of having lunch with Rory?

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Luke thinks Rory and Jess would make a good pair. Lorelai is so in awe of the power of Jess Mariano that she fears coupling him with her daughter might rip a hole in the very fabric of space and time.

Luke is my favorite Literati shipper.

"If Rory dates Jess, my shnooky-ukkums Dean will stop coming over to my house. Jess Mariano must die."

At least the last minute of the episode brings us one of the most splendid endings in Gilly Girls history.

Promotional poster for my horror movie called The Hollow: Luke Danes' Revenge. He's got a sledgehammer, a troubled nephew, and a thirst for Taylor Doose's blood.

I LOVE how hard Milo flinched when the hammer went through the wall. THIS EPISODE IS OVER. I SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING. Where's my cookie?!

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #anti lorelai gilmore #jess mariano #milo ventimiglia #rory gilmore #gilmore girls season 2 #lost and found #HALLELUJAH #You guys just dont know how many hours these things take me #luke danes #Luke Danes is a confirmed Literati shipper #literati #another one where Lorelai Talks For Rory #taking it upon herself to assume what Rory is thinking and feeling without actually asking #and then wreaking havoc

[idk-i-just-really-like-tsc]

now why on earth did freeform post shadowhunters twice in December 2023 in the span of two days. what. the heck. like im not hallucinating you see that too right. and there was also another malec post on Nov 8 2023 despite them not having posted shadowhunter since AUGUST 2019. what the fuck freeform im cackling

#yes i did scroll ALL THE WAY DOWN on their Instagram to find tha #like who runs this account #and also why are they posting it nwo like hello you wanna do some reruns??? #also posting like such insane season 3 malec moments WHAT #genuinely baffled rn #and also in my ig stalking they barely promoted season 3 ig bc netflix but. what the fuck #shadowhunterstv

[dailyoyo]

GGs ranked by how quickly they would resort to murdering their friends if they were stuck in a timeloop (Real edition)

my sincerest fucking apologies to pseud for what ive done to their blog.

THAT SAID: on account of this being very long and very grim to the point that most of it is too grimdark to even be funny anymore i am putting it under a readmore. This is a half-joke half-serious post about the ggs getting stuck in a time loop and murdering each other so like. you get what you click on.

also these are all specifically based aroudn our interps/jet set radio paradox obviously so bear that in mind lol

RULES TO MINIMIZE VARIABLES: only one of them knows they're in a time loop, each is a separate scenario where the listed character is the one who knows and remembers. they do not know why the loop is happening and they do not know how to stop it. the span of time the loop happens is relatively normal, though dangerous enough events happen (maybe just normal jsr stuff) that people may accidentally die during it depending on the exempt character's actions. everyone who dies during a loop is alive again when the date rolls back over. everything is back to square one. no consequences. 14. Pots pots is a dog, even if a highly intelligent one. assuming he can even grasp the idea of a time loop (unlikely) i believe it is even further unlikely that he would recognize it as a bad thing. very possible he just stays in the time loop contentedly forever 13. Soda it takes like a week (or until the first "someone dies and comes back") for him to even notice he's in a timeloop (general apathy/depression?). but when he does notice he's pretty together about it. obviously he wants out but he's literally got all the time in the world, he doesn't need to do stupid traumatic shit just to see what happens. he's got this.

12. Jazz WHY WOULD MURDER EVEN BE PART OF THIS EQUATION WHAT THE FUCK? shes not gonna kill anybody and would think its super fucked to even raise the idea. how is that supposed to help. That said. she does keep repeatedly explaining she's in a time loop almost every loop and it is getting to the point that she kiiiiinda wants to strangle someone or two as stress relief because by god is she stressed. she Won't, she's got more sense than that, but. But…

11. Boogie i think she never really goes full murdermode or anything and the very idea of that happening would shock and disturb her, but surprisingly early on she gives into the impulse to push one of the other ggs into traffic (it doesn't matter anyway, right?) and watches them get ran over. and she's like O_O oh jesus fuck that was horrible. and she never kills anyone again during the loops but it HAUNTS her and makes her nervous abt the idea that she COULD do it again.

10. Gum she's mostly level headed, i think, so she wouldn't be quick to resort to madness. but give her enough time and she starts feeling desperate and does some scary shit in the hopes that maybe somehow they'll at least remember next time. like more than anything i think it's the isolation of it that gets to her. maybe she doesn't progress to outright intentional murder, maybe she only tries it once or twice to see if it fixes anything (it doesn't). while she doesn't go full-blown axe-crazy she DOES become incredibly dangerous and desperate to just not be the only one who remembers.

9. Garam while his nerves end up aaaabsolutely shot and he loses all his patience to see the same day happening over and over, i think it would honestly take a while for him to become a danger to the ggs. he'd rather take out his stress on Literally Anything Else. that said he'd reach a point where he accidentally kills someone for real (whether a gg or an unrelated party) and it fucks him up reallll bad, but whether it fucks him up in a "fine whatever i can kill people who cares" way or a "I NEED TO BE CAREFUL THIS NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN HOLY FUCK" way depends on the circumstances.

8. Beat honestly? unless something in particular causes him to suspect one of the ggs is responsible for the loop, it takes a while for it to even occur to him that killing his friends is an option. like maybe he might end up killing the GGs' enemies and maybe even rivals, but if you brought up the idea of killing his FRIENDS to him he'd be like "wait huh??? but why even????" that said, though, keep him in there long enough and he might develop a severe god complex and start doing it purely to power trip.

7. Combo putting him in a time loop i think would really be the last straw in his miserable life. maybe he deserves the right to kill someone at this point really. while he focuses intently on trying to find a way to break the loop, as it all begins to grate on him he really just stops giving a shit about much of anything. the murder isn't a constant thing, more like one or two good ol' kill em all style breakdowns, and obviously it only makes him feel sick to his stomach when the date rolls over, but what can he even do about it?

6. Clutch he tries to play it cool at first and not think about it too hard but it isnt long before a sort of prey animal panic is invoked in him and hes like. I gotta get outta here. I gotta get out of here. Oh my god i gotta get the hell out of here. and it doesn't help that hes really not close with these guys yknow. and any concern from the ggs he reacts to with escalating violence until he reaches the point he's killing them multiple times in hopes that gives him a way out. eventually he just gives up

5. Corn at first the thought of killing his friends doesnt even cross his mind but he becomes increasingly desperate to understand what's happening and soon enough it's a last resort. it's all very methodical testing the limits of the loop and himself, not explaining anything to anyone else because they'll forget anyway and becoming increasingly hostile and isolationist. he doesn't want to but He's out of options. He has to FIGURE IT OUT.

4. Roboy what bothers him more than anything else is the feeling of helplessness over the whole thing and even if the others COULD help him he's not going to try to get their help. he kills the other ggs to feel less powerless, like he has any sort of control over the situation, and all it does is make him feel worse and worse and worse. maybe eventually reaches a point where he starts deleting his memories of the resets in the hopes this breaks the vicious feedback loop but all it does is ensure the cycle never ends.

3. Yoyo If you put yoyo in a situation where nothing he does matters and none of his actions have consequences he will do increasingly crazy dumb shit because it's not like it matters anyway. and he will undergo EXTREMELY RAPID psychological decay that DOES end in him killing members of the ggs just to see what effect it has both on the loop and on others' psyches. and he will just assume that the loop is forever and ever with no way to ever break it.

2. Cube cube upon realizing she and she alone is in a timeloop will rapidly come to the conclusion that she is in actual literal hell. everything wrong with her will come to the surface at once. she will suffer a severe psychological break SO fast and the streets will run red. maybe she's enjoying it. maybe she isn't. but she is convinced this HAS to happen. and that she deserves it. 1. Mew As soon as Mew finds out that deaths don't stick she's going to massacre all of the GGs just to see how it feels. just once. to try it. it's fine. it doesn't matter. Where did she get that higurashi cleaver

bonus: with the way i joke about zero beat maybe he doesnt even notice hes in a time loop until After hes maimed someone to death. i dont know man. im lying. who fucking give a shit

#mod noname #do i fucking maintag this. #jet set radio #jet set radio future #Fine. i maintagged it. go to hell @me #blood #horror #ask to tag #i spent an unfortunate amount of time thinking this through despite the fact it was supposed to be a joke post #whys most of my content so evil. whats that about #in my defense one of my friends has a horror project which prominently features a time loop #hence why they're on the mind. #vreepypasta

[elrielbaby]

ACOFAS - more findings

I do plan on doing a series overview once I’ve finished ACOSF but this book is so full of little seeds I need to make another post about it.

In the span of two pages Feyre remarks twice how the twins spy for both Rhys & Azriel/how they were trained by Azriel. (Pages 2 & 4)

It’s also mentioned extremely early within this book how L*cien doesn’t seem interested in bridging the gap between himself & Elain, they hadn’t even come within touching distance since that final battle & he spends more time out of Velaris than in it (paraphrasing but that’s the gist)

Nuala, full of whispers & shadows

I’ve mentioned already, but Cassians first chapter was chock full of foreshadowing, as he spoke about Ramiel, the BR, what he did to the people who abused his mother & he briefly mentions Nesta.

Also, Ramiel felt alive - awake & watchful & Cass was unable to resist its ancient summons which, uhm, red flag.

Mor is a terrible gift giver & idk why but it’s funny to me.

Mor brings up Az giving Elain truth-teller, but I believe the context of this conversation is super interesting. Feyre asks Mor if she thinks Azriel would have give up truth-teller, Mor responds he gave it to Elain & when Feyre is quick to say she gave it back, Mor just hums. I am now also humming.

Also, Feyre says she pressed TT back into Azriels hands just as he’d pressed it into hers (🫶)

Elain is Elain (I take this to mean, Elain will be something different)

Nesta is Illyrian (I mean we all know how SF goes)

Elain is too polite to send L away, even on a normal day. She just ignores him until he gets the hint & leaves.

Mor in Hewn City notes ‘there was no light in this place’ & ‘it was the darkness of rotting things, of decay. The smothering darkness that withered all life’ and BOY OH BOY do I have some thoughts on those quotes, pertaining to a certain flower girl who’s powers, may or may not be life, who seemed as if the light had been sucked out of her in HC? I don’t know how likely it is, and I do think it’s more likely that they dressed Elain badly & made her not make much of an effort so that Nesta really stood out in that moment, but I think its interesting!

I’ve spoken about Rhys’ chapter that is HEAVY on the Azriel front but I also think it’s interesting how Elain is brought up in his chapter, similarly to how Nesta was brought up (albeit briefly) in both Rhys’ first chapter with Cassian, and Cassians own first chapter.

There is a very strong parallel between Azriels bonus chapter POV & Cassians second chapter where he visits Emeries shop which I will post separately but it’s insane how word-for-word it pretty much is.

In a Feyre chapter where she actually physically sees Elain for the first time in the book, we have that parallel I posted earlier about Elain & Azriel being given the time to open up (again I’m paraphrasing - actual quote is a couple of posts down)

We also have ‘veils of steam drifting past her shoulders from the roasted rosemary potatoes as if they were Azriels shadows’

We also have, Elain going still at the sight of Az, her throat bobbing & him taking the dish of potatoes from her as he says to her ‘voice soft as midnight’ 🫶

Mor also tenses during this interaction AND I WANT TO KNOW WHY because we all know she doesn’t want him like that, so WHY.

When Azriel makes Cassian wait for Elain, Feyre notes the command in his voice. That is the second time in this book that it’s hinted Azriel has some sort of inherent dominance.

Mor gaping & Cassian gawking at Azriel is giving Truth-Teller scene & again I want to know why

Will Mor kill Kier? It has been mentioned so many times

Azriel is mentioned as being at the window four times in two pages.

When Cassian tries to bet on wether L*cien will show up & Azriel refuses to bet (hello, when Cassian doesn’t want to bet on the Illyrian women training because it means too much) when Cass pushes, Azriel brings up Nesta, as if to shut him up & stop him from prying. Sneaky.

Also, Rhys says that Azriel is better liar than him & considering Rhys is a pretty good liar it’s making me question some things y’know.

Clock chimes 8 & Elain enters the sitting room as if summoned & sits by the window (which is apparently typical for her)

Also, L*cien being more at home with the BoE, sitting by the fire which casts him in reds & golds. He can’t stand to be in the same room as Elain for two minutes, the way he talks about Vassa is very interesting considering his ‘mate’ is right there & he does indeed glance at Elain as he speaks of her, as if he doesn’t know wether he should. Also, when speaking of Graysen, L*cien does seem to have a slight problem with it, but Feyre notes ‘not from any jealousy or threat’ 🤔

Even in the middle of winter Elain was a bloom of colour & sunshine.

Elain is looking out the windows, Azriel approaches her at these windows.

Elain is wearing Amethyst.

Elain laughs at Rhys’ joke about modelling lingerie which surprises Feyre & she also later shots whisky.

Azriels shadows noted as twining twice in this book.

Purple & gold flashed - Elain.

Nesta, sword straight spine (again, we all know how her book goes lol), a Queen without a throne, portrait of Queenly arrogance & a mighty vengeful Queen. Part of me wonders if this is her controlling the dread trove but I’m not sure it is. My current theory is that she will become ‘Queen’ of the Valkyries but that role is more that of General. We shall see.

#elriel #pro elriel