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bokutosmochi · 1 year

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I SURRENDER WHO I'VE BEEN FOR WHO YOU ARE ♡ GETO SUGURU

gn!reader x artist!geto suguru

ingredients? geto has a gift for you in the form of a diamond ring.

what's it? fluff

allergen warning/s? flirty!gojo but only for the first part, use of petnames [hun, starlight, angel]

sugar level? 4.5k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? artist/painter geto has been running miles in my mind and i'm so glad to finally be able to put his creative self onto paper and share the idea with all of you!

bon appetit!

the first time you and geto suguru met was because of your friend ieiri shoko.

you and her were childhood friends, raised alongside each other. your family was close with hers and often times, the two of you were sat next to each other during family dinners, whether they be christmas celebrations, new year celebrations, birthdays, what ever the case was. since the two of you were so close in age, the adults figured that molding you to be friends was a good move. because of that, you'd be assigned as playmates. it's either you'd be at their house playing with her toys or she'd be at yours digging into your toy chest for something that interested her.

eventually, that friendship bloomed and you'd be inseparable when you reached school age. you'd always sit next to each other in class, and if your teacher didn't allow you to, you'd either kick up a fuss until they gave up or simply sat next to your best friend during lunchtime. whenever there were assigned projects where you could choose your partner, the two of you would already be looking at each other, an unspoken agreement being formed as you nodded we'll be partners.

that all changed when you turned eight and shoko told you that her family would be moving to tokyo. you may have been young, and that may have been years ago, but you still remember it. in fact, it's one of the clearest memories you have. you remember crying and marching into their house, runny nose and flushed face and all, to beg her parents not to move as she stood behind you twiddling her fingers. it was the quietest she has ever been. you remember telling your parents and sobbing into your favorite stuffed toy. you remember the dinner your family and hers had the night before they left. and you remember playing doctor in the car while on the way to the airport.

it was a different time back then, and given your age, you didn't have the privilege of having social media to connect with her. that only came about when you turned eighteen, fresh out of high school and having been a recipient of an acceptance letter into the university of tokyo.

you saw - or rather looked for would be a more appropriate term to use - her name on a paper with the official list of students and didn't hesitate to message her on facebook -- at this point, you're friends with her on the platform, you've messaged her a few times, but it did not compare to the bond you two had way back when. no plans of meeting up has been talked about either before you moved to tokyo.

[from: you

to: shoko

shooo!! you go to university of tokyo too? we should totally meet up sometime!]

after a few minutes, she replied.

[from: shoko

to: you

yeah, that sounds good. would you mind if some of my friends from high school tagged along? i think you'll get along with them.]

you expressed how you didn't mind - after all, knowing more people in university never hurt anyone, especially not people who your childhood best friend trusted - and with that, plans to go to the campus' cafe together were organized.

(organized may be a weird way to phrase it, but anyone who has friends that don't go to the same school as you or aren't taking the same course as you will understand.)

when you arrived there on a saturday afternoon as agreed upon, shoko was already there sat next to a man with white hair and circular glasses. his posture was very relaxed, maybe even to the point of making some people scoff and roll their eyes at him. a voice in your head told you that has probably happened multiple times before, as he proceeded to say that he does not care in the slightest. sat across from shoko was a man with long black hair tied into a neat bun. he was not facing you so you had no idea what he looks like, only that although relaxed as well, it seemed to be more polite than the other man's. he had broad shoulders which were complimented by his black button down shirt.

all eyes turned to you when you approached the table with a smile on your face and a small wave. shoko grinned and stood up to reach across the table and hug you. "it's nice to see you again. it's been a long time."

"it has!" you gushed, pulling away and sitting next to the man with light yellow splotches on his arm -- faint, fading bruises, perhaps?

"these two are the high school friends i was telling you about."

but before she could introduce them, she was interrupted.

"gojo satoru! you can call me yours though!" the one in front of you wiggled his eyebrows up and down and offered his hand for a shake. when you took his hand in yours telling him your name, he flipped it and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. "it's very nice to meet you. shoko never told me she had such cute friends." he winked.

the man next to you clicked his tongue in distaste. "that's not how you properly introduce yourself, satoru." he scolded his friend lightly.

turning to you, he flashed you a crescent-eyed smile, "hello, my name's geto suguru. you can call me suguru if you'd like. any friend of shoko's is a friend of mine. i'm dearly sorry for satoru's behavior. he can be quite a handful at times."

you warmed up to him quickly. it was hard not to. he was a gentleman, you could tell from his behavior. he was intelligent, well-spoken, and let both his heart and his brain rule over his decision making. you quickly felt at ease in his presence, so much so that when he suggested for the four of you to go to his dorm room when the cafe was getting too crowded, you said yes without a second thought.

the sun was setting and it's rays were directed at geto making him feel warmer and wanting to shed his button down as a result. he did so, revealing the undershirt he wore: a black tank top.

there was a large patch of purple on his bicep and you couldn't help but gasp and stroke it. "oh my god! what happened?"

your eyes widened at what you were doing and you retracted your hand as if you had just gotten electrocuted. your cheeks were warm and you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole. what made it worse was hearing gojo and shoko's laughter in the background. if gojo, the man relentlessly flirting with you was laughing at you touching another man's biceps, it must be bad."i am so sorry for touching you like that! it's just-" he chuckled though, cutting you off. "it's fine, hun. don't sweat it."

now he made you blush for an entirely different reason.

"don't worry about this little thing too." he looked at the patch of discoloration in his skin you fretted over. a disagreement was on the tip of your tongue, something akin to that's not a little thing, but he spoke before you. "i don't remember getting hit here." he murmured standing up and walking to the sink. "might be just paint."

and he was right. after scrubbing the area with some soap and water, it came right off. "pardon me for that. i didn't mean to make you worry, i was just painting before going to the cafe and i guess i missed a spot when i was cleaning up." he grinned at you bashfully.

you tilted your head to the side in curiousity. "so you're an artist?"

you couldn't stop talking to him after that. the artworks he produced were so interesting to you and you asked him about it, from the meaning, to the inspiration, to the color palette, sometimes even the songs he was listening to while he painted a certain piece.

it wasn't just his art that piqued your interest though, it was him in general.

thankfully for you, that was the case for him too. it just took him a longer time to find out.

he was in the zone.

sunday morning, he was glad to feel the feeling of wanting to pick up a paintbrush and mix colors once again. he found himself stuck in the past week, experiencing artist's block. it was something that all content creators have felt and hate, although normal. there were days where he felt so unproductive, not used to not creating. as a result of that, he would force himself to pick up his tools, instead of doing so because had the urge to. those artworks never ended up good, or at least no where near as good as the other ones, the reason being they weren't made with passion. if you were to ask about them, he would not be able to tell you a magnificent - or traumatizing - story that brought the painting to life. so now that he felt the itch to paint again, because the artist in his brain urged him to and not because he felt pressured, he thinks he has never felt happier.

it doesn't quite look right, it needs to be darker here. a stroke of dark blue. yeah, that looks much better.

just a spot of black here, a tiny inkling of black on the canvas. yes, that's perfect.

he steps away from his easel after multiple hours of painting - when he's submerged in his hobby like this, he doesn't even notice the way time passes or the way his stomach rumbles when he gets hungry - and looked at it in contentment.

it's beautiful, the way it always is when the paintbrush touches the material lead by his heart rather than his hand. when it's a passion project rather than something he does because he feels like less of an artist if he didn't.

then he realizes something and his stomach drops, he sets down the brush and the palette and his hands starts to sweat and get clammy; the subject of his latest piece looks just like you.

the air gets thick around him and he finds it hard to breathe, so much so that he has to take a few moments and sit down to gather his scrambled thoughts.

you, someone who he just met, inspired his art. he drew you without even realizing it. his heart lead him to the painted photo of you manifested from the talent of his hand right in front of him.

does he like you that much already?

and this hits him hard because only now is he realizing it. along with the realization is him remembering that this is something he's never experienced before. sure, he's had his fair share of partners before, but he was never enamoured with them to the point of unconsciously painting them or making them the muse of his art. in fact, most of the time, the reason why he made them the focus was because they asked it of him. perhaps he used to rush into relationships too early? he didn't feel a strong emotional connection with his former partners, but he wanted to feel the love so many artists before him had described, only true, pure love was hard to find. and now here you are, making him feel things he's never felt before.

he's not going to let it slip away from him. not if it's real. not if you feel it too -- and god, he hopes you do.

within a span of a few months, he comes to the conclusion that you don't mind him.

he has no idea whether you actually like him romantically or not, but the way you aren't bothered by him walking you from class to class, then doing your schoolwork with him was a good sign. you were even starting to hang out with him more than you hung out with shoko -- which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. your relationship with the girl wasn't deteriorating. it's just another case of you meeting and being friends back when you were different people and then not being as compatible as you are now. you're still friends, that you're sure of, just not as close.

you and geto study together although you had different courses. you still had some subjects in common, specifically the general education subjects, and you enjoyed each other's company enough that you still study in the other's presence though you had no idea what they were reading about.

you and geto grab lunch together. at first, it was just spotting the other sitting alone in the dining hall, but then it became some sort of unspoken understanding -- you and him sit together unless there was something that kept you from each other, like an exam or a class or a project that needed to be done, but those instances were rare as you did your best to avoid them.

and over time, you because comfortable enough with geto that you would rant to him about a variety of things that ranges from difficult topics that you had so much trouble with no matter how hard you tried, asshole professors, bitchy groupmates who you guessed were only there because of generational wealth or nepotism, or failed projects which was the case right now.

"there's no such thing as a failed artwork." geto glanced at you as you walked back from campus to your dorms.

"well that's easy for you to say, your stuff always looks good." you huff at him looking away. "'t's not fair. you're way too talented."

he laughs at that, it's lighthearted, easy, the way things always are with you. there's not a dull moment and there's not a difficult moment. he loves that about you, and he loves it so much he doesn't mind if you experience a couple of difficult moments together. it's something all lovers go through, he's aware. he knows you're worth weathering storms for, so long as you do the same for him.

"guess you're right, but since i'm an artist, i also know it's not always about how the piece looks, but the way you feel while making it." he stops to stand in front of you. "if it makes you happy, if it sets your soul free. drawings, paintings, music, these are things that aren't meant to look or sound a certain way; they're meant to be expressions of the soul. so as long as you're able to express yourself through it, it's nothing to be ashamed of." his voice trails off by the end into a gentle whisper. then he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. his hands moves to your cheek, down to your jawline, and lastly to your lips. "that and i can't get myself to believe an angel like you could ever create something ugly."

you laughed softly, holding onto his wrist and nuzzling the side of your face into his open palm. "guess you're right."

"aren't i always?"

neither of you could deny your feelings for the other then. there was something blooming, and you knew you were compatible; you had to give it a shot.

the shot came in the form of geto asking you to watch a movie with him.

he was the first one to arrive at the movie theater, wearing his usual all black attire, but this time, his hair was down cascading down his back. it was the first time you've not seen him sporting a man bun in real life. the only time you've ever had the pleasure of seeing it is whenever you were on facetime and he was busy painting his newest artwork. even then, his hair wasn't fully down. some strands just flew from the hair elastic and he couldn't be bothered to fix it, not that you minded. you loved the look of focus and love on his face as he worked on his pieces. the whole world seems to disappear to him and all that's left is his boundless imagination and the limitless canvas in front of him.

he greeted you with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, "you ready to see some zombos dying?"

you really did not expect geto suguru to be this adorable and shy. because although he's not afraid to express himself, sometimes dipping into darker, more macabre arts, and although he will speak his mind on certain topics in class, here he is almost shoulder to shoulder with you when he desperately wants to hold your hand. you're so warm and comforting to him, all he wants is to envelop your smaller hands in his, run the calloused pads of his thumb over the back of your hand or your knuckles, but he can't get himself to do so. he can't even watch the movie properly, his attention is entirely on you. he watches the rise and fall of your chest through his peripheral vision, your fingers toying with your hair, and your cute little face that twists and relaxes with laughter or grimace as the movie continues to roll on screen.

he doesn't mind how he's not getting his money's worth by not watching the movie, you're more interesting to him and he wants to gauge how you'll react to him doing certain things. like shuffling closer to you so you're finally actually shoulder to shoulder with the other. he silently wonders if your heart's beating as fast as his is because he's sure he can feel his in his fingertips and hear it in his ears. he really hopes you don't feel it or hear it. then after a few minutes, he presses his arm against you, yearning to feel some of your warmth against him, to his surprise though, you shiver -- and because of the darkness, he misses the way your cheeks burn up.

"are you cold?" he murmurs softly, careful not to disturb the other movie goers, but just as you were about to respond no, he was already shrugging his jacket off, exposing the black turtleneck tank top he had on. it looked like the exact one people on the internet have been raving about, the ones fanartists have been drawing on their favorite character because of how good it looked. geto was no exception.

it hugged him just right, highlighting the muscles on his chest, his pecs, and his abdomen. it made his biceps pop right with your eyes before you could blink and pick your jaw off of the floor. no words could express how good he looked, how much the tight fitting garment fit him and accentuated his features, his body type, but all you had to say is if he wore a cocky smirk with that, he would have looked nothing short of a young god.

but he was the opposite of that.

instead of abusing his newly found power and demanding women to worship at his feet, he smiled at you his small crescent-eyed smile while handing you the jacket. "here, you can take this. don't want you getting too chilly now do we?"

you hoped that either geto did not see the blush on your face or that he thinks it's just from you "being chilly" even though you were not. while yes, you could not deny that it was not toasty in the room you were currently in, the reason why you shivered had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the person you are with.

"n-no, geto! it's alright, i think you might need it more than me." you said, referencing to how he was not wearing clothes that had sleeves.

"nonsense!" he whisper shouted. his face was close to yours and he was facing you. you could smell the peppermint in his breath riddled with the sweet caramel popcorn and root beer he just had, but it didn't smell bad -- regardless of his cursed technique, his breath never smelled awful, he had it a habit to carry mints or gums with him at all times. "i'll be alright, you're my main priority." his face shown some semblance of tenderness that was quickly replaced by timidness. "was that too cheesy for a first date? sorry."

utterly smitten by the man, you disregarded your opinion of whether or not you agreed with him, whether it was indeed cheesy or not, and just smiled and laughed quietly. "i think it's perfect, geto." you reassured him, taking the jacket from him and draping it onto your own form.

perfect. perfect. perfect.

that was the word that always graced his mind every time he thought of you. you were absolutely perfect for him. objectively, maybe you did have some flaws the way all human beings do, but suguru does not look at those as flaws because they're a part of you. they're just your little quirks that he has grown to love. they're one of the reasons why you're you, and as a result, one of the reasons why he fell for you as hard as he did. they're all things that helped you guys stay together and be attracted to each other though it may be five years since you've met.

you're both still stuck in the honeymoon phase, it's been a number of years since you've graduated from university, you both have stable jobs now, a steady amount of income, enough to pay for rent, taxes, and every necessirty in between, and the future has never looked brighter for the two of you.

so bright in fact that suguru thinks it's time to take your relationship to a new level; one you've talked about before and agree with, you're ready and you want it with each other.

he added some finishing touches to the painting and made sure the velvet jewelry box was already securely in his pocket, then threw a gold-colored silk cloth over his artwork and waiting for you to come back home to him.

he already knew what your answer was gonna be, he's ninety nine percent sure that it's gonna be the answer he wants, but he can't help the anxiety that's crawling up his throat like poison ivy. it makes his tap his feet on the hardwood floor at an annoying fast rate that would alarm him if you were the one to be doing it. it makes him hyperaware of his surroundings, each drip, drop of the leaking faucet he promises to fix, the whirr of the fan in the corner of the room, each ticking of the clock tick, tock, tick, tock.

just five more minutes and you would be home.

time was molasses being poured from its can, so suguru daydreamed about the future he wanted with you: your dream wedding with all the important people in your life surrounding you, your favorite love song playing in the background, one of his paintings is on its steady easel, standing by where you sat together during the reception. you're at the top position in your job, less responsibilities, but more time to spend with him, his art's displayed at the biggest exhibits in japan, and he's never felt better.

the sound of the doorbell jiggling breaks him from his daydream though, and he jumps. his hands are shaking again, and he can feel his heart seemingly trying to beat its way out of his chest -- and maybe that's exactly what the muscular organ's trying to do, trying its best to find its way to you. after all, too many times has he said my heart belongs to you, maybe its time it actually happens.

the door opens to your tired looking face, worn down from work and stress, yet the moment you see him, it's like the tension dissolves into thin air. you light up like your neighbor's extravagant christmas lights and you throw your arms around him, "i'm home, suguru." mumbled into the cloth on his shoulder.

when your eyes drift to the covered easel behind him, your smile widens -- you never stopped being supportive and utterly in awe of his work. "you finished it?" your excitement has doubled because suguru hasn't shown you even a glimpse of this masterpiece. usually with his other workers, he'd allow you to watch him work or at least give you a sneak peek of it, but that wasn't the case for this particular one. it made you all the more curious about what it is and why he was keeping it a secret.

"yeah," suguru replies, pulling away from you and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "i uh. i really like this one." he approaches the canvas uncharacteristically silent. most of the time when revealing the final product to you, he's ecstatic. his passion carries onto his words, making them more lively and energetic.

what is it with this one?

"here, lemme just-" he grabs one end of the fabric and pulls, revealing the piece to you. a large chunk of his heart and soul - he would argue that it's the majority of his heart and soul, in fact - all spread out for you on canvas.

you gasped, walking forward slowly. once you were face-to-face with it, you felt the need to run your fingers over it, something suguru knew, leading to him nodding his head, non verbally saying that you could do it.

it's a painting of your first date: shadows were cast upon your face and you were speechless at the colors suguru used to do so, so meticulous, accurate, and stunning. he was wearing the tight turtleneck tank top, his jacket on your shoulders and your hand was in his -- he tried the lay-your-hand-palm-up-on-the-chair's-arm trick to get you to hold hands with him and it worked, to his surpise.

it was almost spot on, you wondered how he got every detail right, because the only thing that was different between your actual first date vs the painting of your first date was that in the painting, you had a diamond ring on your left right finger.

your eyes widened, and you whipped around to see your boyfriend down on one knee. "starlight, you know i've never been good with words. i express myself through my art. i lay my heart on each piece i make everyday, but today, i choose to take a break and lay my heart in your hands instead. will you marry me?"

i get: reblog

you get: milk and cookies

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charliespringsleftconverse · 4 months

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Kiss Me Again

Word Count: 8,645 | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Writer’s Notes: I was going to have a friend proof this for me but they were busy so I did some multiple self-revisions in the past few days in hopes that I caught as many grammar errors as possible. Apologies if I missed any! Anyway! This is a college AU ACOTAR Feysand fic. The concept was idiots in love. As in, they’ve baaaasically been doing couply stuff but they were too blind to see or acknowledge that they’d been in love and acting as a couple for a while. <3

I don’t typically write AU fics, so this is a first for me! That being said, it was so much fun to write. It’s actually the longest one-shot I’ve written! A HUGE Happy Holidays to @thegloweringcastle <3 I hope you enjoy it and finally find out who got left at the supermarket! 😂

Thank you to @acotargiftexchange for putting this event together once again! I LOVE participating in this every year! <3

Squinting at the scribbles below, my eyes attempted to decipher the notes I’d borrowed. I had been able to make out the date thanks to the simple fact that it hadn’t been written in cursive like the rest of the details. It was a lost art form for me just like any other calligraphy-related configuration. I would have written down my own notes for the humanities course I was taking, in plain print, had my younger sister not lost the key to her dorm room. With her roommate out of town for the week, there wasn’t much Elain could have done outside of calling her Resident Assistant, which, to her dismay, also happened to be her ex-boyfriend. So, rather than having to face Grayson more than she needed to, she’d called me.

Lucky for Elain, I kept a spare. All of my sisters and I did, actually. Nesta, Elain, and I all had a key to each other’s place. It had been especially helpful when we all lived on campus last year. We could just walk into each other’s rooms at any time. Like when I needed help with my homework for Calculus with Analytic Geometry and borrowed Nesta’s notes from her sophomore year. Or when Nesta needed to borrow my curling iron for a date. And, of course, how could I forget the night that Elain and her then-boyfriend broke up. She had refused to leave her room for two days. I had never been so grateful to have access to a spare key. Nesta and I had been so worried having not heard from her for more than a day. We spent that entire weekend taking turns bringing her food from her favorite places across town in hopes that they’d brighten her spirits. Thai food from Adriata’s Palace, Italian Cuisine from Neve’s Garden, and Mexican from Rita’s Margaritas. I had never seen my sister so devastated in her life. Although to be fair, Elain had never dated a boy before Grayson.

I turned the notebook a bit to the side in hopes that the lighting from the new angle would bless me with a hint as to what words hid behind Mor’s beautiful script. Mother above. Shaking my head, I bit my lip. I should have listened to my mother when she said that learning cursive would be an invaluable skill. She was certainly right in thinking that it was a dying skill. It was dead on me for sure. Hell, the only people I knew who still wrote in cursive were sorority recruitment leads when they made their colorful, extravagant banners with fancy lettering and doctors. Which would make sense at the moment given who I had borrowed these notes from. Zeta Tau Alpha’s latest Chapter President. My mother was certainly wagging her finger at me from wherever she was.

I sighed.

“You look more concentrated than my morning orange juice,” said Rhysand, sitting across the table. His violet eyes studying me, his brows raised in concern. We’d—he’d been studying for the past thirty minutes, meanwhile, I’d just been heavy-breathing and decoding what looked like a cipher like a treasure hunter in search of the coordinates to an ancient Greek secret temple. But unlike an archeologist, my work proved unfruitful.

“I’m trying to decipher Mor’s handwriting,” I said. Leaning back on the chair, I let out another loud sigh. “It’s beautiful. But I can’t read cursive for shit.”

Rhys and I had known each other since freshman year. More specifically, ever since I accidentally dropped a shoe on him from the fourth floor of the residence halls. I had originally been aiming for my roommate Viviane to catch, who to this day still wanted to room with me. She hadn’t wanted to come up again to retrieve the missing shoe and I didn’t want to go downstairs in a towel as I’d just come out of the shower and was still undressed.

The natural decision was to just fling the sneaker out the window of our dorm room, obviously. What we didn’t account for was my terrible aim and Viviane’s lack of hand-eye coordination. Not only did Rhys get bumped in the head by a single white platform Vans but he also got pushed into a bush by Viviane. She had been so busy looking up, that she forgot to look forward and completely missed the 6-foot man inches from her. It had been a miracle Viviane herself hadn’t impaled the shrubbery along with him. I’ll never forget the mortified look Viviane and I mirrored, eyes wide and hands over mouth. All I could think was, he’s concussed. I concussed a man.

Personally, if someone had smacked me on the head, I would have at least yelled at them. Maybe even called them a prick. Rhys, however, was a different breed of man. He had certainly groaned on impact but as soon as he realized he had backflipped into a small hedge and held a women’s size 8 shoe on his lap, he laughed. He let out a full belly laugh. This man—this stranger—had the audacity to laugh given the circumstances. I suppose I should have realized from that moment that nothing could truly take him by surprise or upend his day. A trait I admired. One I hoped seeped into my bones by osmosis or whatever symbiotic science allows personal characteristics to flow from one person to another.

I apologized profusely to this man. In a towel from my window. In my pajamas after I ran downstairs. In his residence hall, after Viviane helped me put together an apology basket when we discovered he lived across from her boyfriend Kallias. Even then, this 6-foot-something of a man thought it was funny. Every. Single. Time. To which I convinced myself, I’d more than concussed him. I convinced myself I’d done serious damage for a man to laugh at that level of pain. Although, I suppose that if two people showed up in their dinosaur onesies at 9 pm on a Thursday evening with a basket for me, I’d also laugh. But still.

It wasn’t until that very week that I realized Rhys and I shared similar classes. We were both in English Composition, Principles of Chemistry, and Introduction to Sociology. Which, quite honestly, are more than enough courses for you to figure out if you have the same schedule as another student. What can I say, I’m oblivious—an ongoing theme in my life.

Another thing I’ll never forget, the smug look on Rhys’s face when we were paired together in English Composition for a research paper on the portrayal of minorities in the media. I’d wanted to find the nearest cliff and jump off it but destiny had other plans. No, fate looked me straight in the eye and said, “Hold my drink, bestie” because two years later, here we are. Best friends.

Rhysand snatched the paper out of my hands. “The Gate of Athena Archegetis was dedicated to the patron goddess of Athens, Athena.”

My hand rushed to jot down what he said. The table vibrated from the ferocity with which I scribbled on my notebook. What I couldn’t crack in thirty minutes took Rhys all of two seconds to read out. Why our professor for that course didn’t allow laptops or tablets for note taking, I’ll never understand. I was just grateful I had something legible transcribed now.

“You can read that? It might as well have been written entirely in Latin,” I said.

“I’ve had practice reading my cousin's handwriting for years. I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t, at this point.” Rhysand chuckled. Passing the page, he eyed the notes, likely reviewing the contents from the course he’d taken himself the semester before.

“I, unfortunately, was blessed with my father’s handwriting.” I tugged at the sleeves of my V-neck indigo cardigan and shyly pointed at my hideous penmanship. It might as well have been written by a third-grader. It was practically childlike. There wasn’t much fixing that could be done at this point in my life when it came to my writing unless I signed up for a calligraphy course. And even then, life had no guarantees.

The irony wasn’t lost on me. An art major who couldn’t read or write a visual art form. Who could paint true-to-life full-body portraits, vivid illustrations of natural landscapes, and dramatic high-colored oil paintings but couldn’t read or write in cursive. I dropped my shoulders, frustrated with myself, and propped my legs up on the tufted dining chair pulling them against my chest with my arms wrapped around.

Rhys’s eyes were back on me. He had a way of reading me like a billboard sign, and I could tell he was trying to figure out what was going on through my mind, what today’s bold neon letters were. I was never sure how he did it but he always knew exactly what I was thinking. Which either meant my face was easy to read and I had the worst poker face of all time or…he just knew me.

“The ‘A’ in cursive is not a sharp letter. It’s more rounded and looks the exact same in both upper and lowercase. Similar to the way you’d write it in print,” he said.

There were several traits I admired about Rhys outside of his keen observations and nonchalant perspective on life. Like his level of empathy. I knew what his academic grades looked like but boy did I also want to know what his emotional quotient score was. Whatever it was, that score was certainly high. He never made anyone feel like their shortfalls were a hindrance. Nor would he want to. That wasn’t his style. Rather than point out my flaws and make me feel embarrassed, he read the notes aloud.

“The Greek language served as a lingua franca,” he continued.

“That last phrase was actual Latin,” he added. Rhys flipped through the pages of Mor’s notes. I could have asked him for his own from last semester since he’d been able to sign up on time. I, on the other hand, had been wait-listed. Hence why I was taking the course in the spring. It was one of the few classes we all needed to graduate as it was one of the general requirements for all offered degrees. I probably should have asked him for his notes since I could his penmanship but I’d been too caught up with Elain yesterday to even consider asking.

“Here’s another one, in vino veritas,” said Mor, raising two bottles of wine toward us. “In wine there is truth.”

“Amen,” said Cassian, lifting a third bottle.

“I thought you two went out grocery shopping,” said Rhysand. Laying the notes on the table, he crossed his arms eyeing the two figures by the door. The corner of Rhys’s mouth twitched as he raised an eyebrow at his cousin and roommate.

“We did. We brought back the essentials,” said Mor. Smiling back at her cousin, she winked at him before closing the door to the apartment with a kick of her red platform heels.

“Hmm,” Rhys hummed.

Bringing his eyes back to me, Rhysand continued reading off the notes while the other two flocked into the kitchen. I bit the inside of my lip as I followed along the soothing sound of his voice. His warm tone always calmed me when we studied together. Which was why I was his favorite audience member when he needed to practice his presentations. I’d listen attentively, the first time. I’d even provide feedback, the second time. But I’d almost always fall asleep to the sound of his enchanting mellifluous voice any other time after that.

“It’s wine night, Rhys. You know the rules,” said Mor from the other room. Every Friday was wine night, the one day of the week our friend group could get together with no interruptions or excuses. No one had an evening class on Fridays or a night shift so things worked out this semester. Most of the extracurriculars each of us participated in typically held events over the weekend so we’d truly lucked out with everyone’s schedules this time. It wasn’t something we were likely to have again so we were taking advantage of every Friday we had before some of us graduated.

Though, that was one of the rules. No talks about graduation. The point of wine night was to live in the moment and enjoy however many Fridays we had left as the “Inner Circle.” It was a silly name Cassian spewed one night after downing 3 bottles of wine, and it kind of stuck. We didn’t exactly call our group that but we did change our group chat name accordingly.

“You too, Feyre.” Mor’s voice echoed.

Another rule. No homework. That rule was more of a precaution so none of us would accidentally email professors the wrong file while inebriated. To be fair, I was only taking notes but we all tried to abide by the no homework rule as best as we could.

“Give me a few minutes, and I’m all yours,” I said.

“You’re telling me you’ve had all day to write those and you still haven’t?” asked Mor, her voice trailing from deeper in the apartment as she stepped from room to room. She had her apartment across town but, like me, she practically lived here too.

“Yeah, well…there have been some delays,” I said, fidgeting with my pencil. My face began to feel warm as blood rushed into my cheeks. Biting my lip, I kept my eyes down. I didn’t want to let Mor know that I hadn’t been able to write her notes because I couldn’t read her notes. Not that she would make fun of me for it but I knew that if I confessed the truth she’d barge me with questions. And I simply did not feel like answering any of that in front of everyone else. All I wanted was for something to distract her from prying right now. Just about anything would do. A pigeon flying in through the window. The fan in the living room mysteriously falling onto the table. A fire alarm. A knock on the door. Anything would do. Please.

“Weren’t there three of you when you left?” asked Rhysand.

I felt my body relax, and my shoulders dropped. I hadn’t realized the muscles down my back had tightened and tensed so firmly until my body loosened and eased back into the chair. My eyes lifted, meeting Rhysand’s whose amethyst orbs were right on me. He winked. The man knew I’d been on the brink of jumping out a window and needed assistance to divert the tall blonde in the kitchen and I loved him for it.

“Azriel!” said Cassian and Mor in unison. The sound of shoes running filled the kitchen accompanied by that of drawers shutting in a hurry, and the jingle of keys. The pair dashed around the apartment like parents who’d just forgotten their child at the supermarket, which was exactly what had happened. Somewhat.

A knock sounded at the door.

The four of us froze and exchanged glances. The only thought I had in my mind was of Azriel, hoping he hadn’t walked all the way back here. Mor took slow steady steps towards the entrance and when she reached the doorknob, she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, took a deep breath, and pressed her lips together. Ever so delicately, she turned the knob and pulled the door towards her.

"Today was not my best day. I dare say it didn't even make the top five," said Azriel. He had one hand reaching the top of the doorframe, leaning slightly. His handsome face held no clear emotion but his eyes. His cold eyes stared down at Mor, making her smaller than she was. Oh, he is pissed.

“You left something at the grocery store,” said Nesta, pushing past the brooding body. Her heels clicked as she waltzed into the room wearing a black satin sleeveless dress that hugged her in all the right places from her chest to her hips. The slit on the right side exposed her up to her mid-thigh with every step. Cassian’s eyes immediately caught the movement as they slid up her body, stopping once they met her eyes.

“I would never have left you, Nes,” said Cassian. He took a step toward her, almost challenging her gaze. She held it, eyed him up and down sizing him up, and spun to face the rest of the room. With her back to him, she placed a hand on her hip, blatantly ignoring the door-framed-sized man behind her.

Cassian stepped closer and slid his hands around her body, holding her closer. Nesta didn’t fight him. If I had blinked, I might have missed the slight shift of her body against him, leaning against his chest even closer. It was beyond anyone’s pay grade to understand where they stood in their relationship if it was even that. They’d been on and off for so long that their situationship was like the weather, something that had to be measured in every room.

“I despise you,” said Nesta, with a hint of a smile on the corner of her lips.

“Keep telling yourself that,” said Cassian.

“Are you headed out tonight, Nesta?” I asked.

“I only came to deliver the lost puppy,” said Nesta, taking a step forward and away from the figure wrapped around her. Cassian’s jaw ticked as she untangled herself from his embrace. “I’m headed out with the girls.”

Gwyn and Emerie, I thought. That’s who she almost always referred to. They’d been her closest friends since freshman year and they’d been inseparable from the moment they met. It was surprising that they hadn’t come up with her since they all lived together.

“Gwyn’s downstairs waiting for me, and Emerie is already in the car,” she said.

There it was.

“You should take better care of pretty things,” said Nesta, walking towards the door. Elegantly spinning, her eyes met Cassian’s from beneath the doorframe. Her fingers slipped up her thigh to her waist sensually, her eyes never breaking contact as she spoke. “Someone else might steal them.”

She closed the door on her way out, leaving the rest of us too stunned to speak.

“I’m gonna marry that woman,” said Cassian.

“Wine, anyone?” said Mor.

——

"I almost fist-fought you last night when you took the blanket," I said. Tugging on the dark blue throw-over, I pulled it over myself enough to cover my legs entirely as I sat criss crossed on the couch. The star-filled spread was dark and fluffy like Amren’s black Bombay cat. With three glasses of wine in me, if I closed my eyes and traced my hand down the blanket, I could almost picture Ruby on my lap. She was soft and cud—

A pull on the blanket brought my thoughts back.

“You snore. Loudly," said Rhys.

"I do not snore, you liar." I scoffed, tugging back on the blanket.

We’d both fallen asleep on his bed last night after an intense studying session. Although our schedules were no longer as identical as they’d been during freshman year, we still shared one or two courses every so often. Like this semester, we had Solar System Astronomy together. We’d stayed up late on the balcony of his apartment looking up at the constellations seeing how many we could name and then placing their locations on a star map.

With 88 constellations in the sky, as recognized by the International Astronomical Union, we’d been able to spot at least seven. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Orion, Cassiopeia, Cepheus, Draco, and—my face was beginning to feel very warm.

"How did the blanket end up on the floor? No wonder I was freezing," said Rhys. He was leaning against the backrest of the couch, one hand on the armrest holding his glass of wine. Rhysand’s dark lilac eyes sparked with mischief. He was baiting me and I was definitely too inebriated to ignore his comments.

“How could you be freezing? You’re a freaking furnace!” I exclaimed.

“Then why’d you steal the blanket? I’m basically primed for cuddles.” Rhys’s other hand reached around me and tugged me towards him. I laughed against his chest, and let my body lean into him.

“Mother above, you two bicker like a married couple,” said Mor. She was leaning against the doorway leading to the balcony. With the door open, the cool breeze blew in, brushing her long golden hair past her shoulder. Her eyes darted between where Rhys and I sat on the couch and then shifted to something behind us. I was too focused on the elegant way she held her glass to glance away from her posture.

“It’s not bickering if I’m right.” I slapped Rhys against his chest playfully. His chest vibrated with a chuckle.

“Az, play that one song from the other night,” said Amren. With her wine glass inches from her lips in one hand, she pointed at Azriel with her other. There was a lot you learned about a person while under the influence. In Amren’s case, during the day, she was a short-tempered finance major student who ate boys and numbers for breakfast. There was no doubt that she’d be valedictorian of the College of Business Administration. She studied hard, but she also played hard.

“Thisssisss my jaaaaammm.” Amren’s words slurred. She raised one of her hands as if meaning to touch the ceiling lamp like a fly attracted to a zapper light. Swaying to the rhythm, Amren praised the white light above.

“Oh, she is gone,” said Mor, taking a sip of her wine.

All eyes were on Amren now as she led an interpretive dance to the beat of Dance the Night by Dua Lipa. Her choreography involved a lot of hands swaying in the air. While her claps to the music were slightly off-beat, she was giving it her all. She was the choreographer—the lead dancer. She was Barbie at the giant blow art party and the rest of us were just Ken.

“Here’s another piece of Latin for you, Feyre. Nemo saltat sobrius,” said Mor, nodding at Dance and Flex Barbie™.

“What?” I asked. Clumsily leaning forward, I propped one hand on Rhy’s thigh as I leaned closer to Mor in hopes I could read her lips over the music. I felt a hand steady me from behind.

“Nobody dances sober,” said Azriel.

“Unless you’re Azriel, then you don’t dance. At all,” said Cassian. The couch bounced as he threw his body on the empty spot on the other side of me. He smiled at Azriel, threw his hand over the sofa's backrest, and leaned back.

“I’ve definitely seen him dance,” said Rhys.

“No way. In his room?” Cassian chuckled.

I took this as an opportunity to make myself more comfortable, while they were distracted. Shifting my body, I leaned further into Rhys, the shape of his own welcoming me back to my spot. A soft giggle escaped my lips as Cassian grabbed my feet and placed them on his lap. Somehow my body had slid down Rhys’s and I was fully lying across the sofa on top of the boys. I was comfortable. So comfortable, I could fall asleep.

“At a party, actually,” said Rhys, his eyes glanced at Azriel while a small smile edged on his face.

“With a girl?” Cassian’s voice sounded surprised.

“With a girl.” Rhys nodded.

“No fucking way,” said Cassian. He couldn’t help but smile at Az, his mouth gaped.

I understood Cassian’s reaction, Azriel didn’t dance let alone run or jog for anything. He was an enigma; an unsolvable riddle. The man was calm, cool, and collected at all times. Always unfazed by things that would distress the common Joe. It was slightly unnerving. If someone spilled wine on the carpet, Azriel wouldn’t panic at the thought of a huge red stain on the rug. He’d walk into the kitchen, no questions asked, and come back with a dry cloth, dish soap, and hydrogen peroxide, and blot the patch until it made you doubt if anything had actually been spilled. Whereas Mor and I would have stared at the ink-stained rug and exchanged wide-eyed looks before quietly agreeing that the room could do better without a rug.

Azriel shrugged completely unbothered.

“With wh-

“I don’t kiss and tell,” said Azriel. Cold eyes stared back, silently telling Cassian to back off without any need for words.

“You’re just jealous he didn’t kiss you,” said Rhysand. He was trying to diffuse any rising tension. I could feel the sound of his voice vibrating across his chest. At some point, I’d given him my glass of wine or he’d taken it from me very smoothly. It would have been a disaster if I’d spilled it over the three of us on the sofa. I would have felt especially bad about it considering it was new. Their last one had moved on to a better place after Cassian put a hole in it from jumping on it during a karaoke session two months ago.

“Hell yeah, I am!” Cassian exclaimed.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a lopsided grin on his lips. "Are we about to kiss right now?"

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” said Rhysand.

“Come here, you,” said Cassian. Throwing my legs off him, he jumped across the room embracing Azriel. The room filled with laughter at the show the two of them were putting on. Even through the loud ruckus, the short-tempered finance major was far too deep into her slumber to awaken. At some point, Amren had tucked herself into the armchair by the window and nodded off. She looked cozy and peaceful with her head lying on the armrest. We’d learned long ago that it was best to leave her alone when she dozed off. A lesson learned the hard way.

Through the open doors leading to the balcony, the sky was briefly illuminated with a bright light followed by a faint sound of thunder. I glanced at the digital clock beneath the TV sitting on the television stand. It was late and I needed to get home. There was still a buzzing feeling that tingled across my body from the earlier drinks but I didn’t live far. It was ten minutes max walking. Plus, if I left now, I could avoid the rain.

Sitting up, I scanned the room looking for my shoes. “I should get going,” I said.

“Let me call you a ride,” said Mor, already taking out her phone.

“Mor, I live within walking distance,” I said, gathering my shoes.

Azriel jumped in, “I barely drank. All I had was a sip earlier. I could give you a ri-

He didn’t finish his sentence as his eyes glanced toward the other side of the room at the sound of boots hitting the hardwood and the sofa shuffling. I didn’t think too much about it, not that I could in my current state. I was more focused on figuring out where I’d placed the key to my apartment.

“Do you want us to walk with you?” asked Mor.

Holding on to the wall, I hooked two fingers into one of my white platform Nike and pushed my foot into the shoe. Was it counterintuitive to own sneakers with shoelaces if I never had any intention of tying them? I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought as I did the same with my other shoe. It was unclear to me if I genuinely found the thought funny or if it was the alcohol coursing through me. Before I could respond to Mor’s question, I felt the close warmth of a tall figure standing near me.

“I’ll walk her,” said the familiar voice.

“Rhys-

“That wasn’t an offer, darling. That was me making a statement,” he said.

I sighed, looking up at him. It was late, and I didn’t feel like arguing knowing that it would delay my departure before the oncoming storm. Having someone walk you home wasn’t the end of the world. It was an act of the purest love. That someone cared about your well-being enough to ensure you’d made it home safely. That’s what I loved about my friends. The genuine love we all had for each other.

Sliding my baby blue nylon backpack over my shoulder, I double-checked I’d gathered everything. I went through my mental checklist. Phone, wallet, keys. Patting my pockets, I ensured I had them. I made sure to hug everyone goodbye before heading out. Well, everyone except Amren, who was ever so sweetly tucked in the armchair with a blanket twice her size. Likely one of Cassian’s massive blankets.

When I turned, Rhysand was already by the door holding it open for me. Slipping his hand over my shoulder, he grabbed my powder blue bag and placed it over his. With the motion, my white plush bear keychain swung against the two baby penguin pins on the cerulean fabric. My backpack had a very soft aesthetic that stood out when held by Rhys who was dressed in dark tones from head to toe. It didn’t fit his aesthetic. At all. I was about to object that I could carry my own bag but his voice interrupted my thoughts. “Don’t put the top lock on the door, I’ll be right back.”

As we headed out, the sky flashed again. The air felt cool against my skin and smelled like dew. It was a calming, fresh scent. It reminded me of potted flowers and succulents like the ones I had by the window in my room. The ones I always forgot to water but always survived, courtesy of one Elain Archeron. She knew I couldn’t keep anything alive, plant or fish, so she’d made sure to get me greenery that required minimal attention, which reminded me that I hadn’t watered them in a week. If it started pouring by the time I got home, I could stick them out the window and have them be watered au naturale.

I jumped at the sound of thunder and instinctively grabbed Rhys’s hand. His fingers wrapping around mine were warm and rough whereas mine were cold and soft. He squeezed my hand and held on to mine as we continued walking. “It caught me off guard.”

“Mmhm,” he said.

The wind picked up slightly as we headed down the illuminated path amongst the trees and apartment complex gardens that stretched across an open space. Rain was certainly on its way, it was just a matter of when. We likely had a couple of minutes before the downpour began. Thunder sounded all around us, and one, two droplets landed on my cheek. Damn. Other than being way off in my calculations, I’d also forgotten to borrow an umbrella before we left. There was no avoiding that we were going to be caught in this.

“I’m glad I grabbed this before we left,” said Rhys, opening an umbrella large enough to cover us both. At what point he’d grabbed the umbrella was beyond me. I stepped closer to him as he fumbled opening it. He gave it a slight jiggle with one hand that became more aggressive by the second as he attempted to push the sliding metal piece with his fingers. After about a minute, the section loosened up allowing for more movement. The issue now lay with the broken stretchers that were meant to hold the fabric.

“Who the hell leaves a broken umbrella in the umbrella stand?” said Rhys.

“Someone who forgot to throw it out?”

“That’s why trashcans exist,” he sighed. Rhys let go of my hand and continued fumbling with the umbrella trying to see if the pieces would lock into place. Thunder sounded above us and more drops of water began falling slowly picking up.

“If we pick up the pace, we can make it before it really hits,” said Rhys. His eyes surveyed mine and I could tell he was both disappointed and worried that he’d let me down somehow. But unless he was secretly in cahoots with Mother Nature, there was no way any of this could be his fault or something for him to blame himself for.

“I’m sorry about the weather,” said Rhys. The way he rubbed his neck and his brows drew together, I couldn’t bear the look of disappointment on his face for something out of his reach.

I shook my head and smiled up at him. “What are you sorry about? A broken umbrella that you had no idea was broken? The sky? Rhysand, unless you secretly own a weather machine, there’s nothing to be sorry about. Forget the umbrella.”

“In fact,” I continued, “I think this is an opportunity.”

I took my bag and the umbrella from his hands, chucked the latter in the nearest bin, and placed my bag on the ground.

“An opportunity?”

I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the moment, but I’d always wanted to dance in the rain like in movies and musicals. I felt bold and giddy at the idea of doing so now. All I could focus on was this tune from the third High School Musical installment. “Take my hand, take a breath.”

Standing in front of him, I stretched out my hand and offered it to Rhys. He looked puzzled but accepted my offer. “Pull me close, and take one step.”

“A song with instructions? I can follow that,” he said. A small smile formed on his lips.

“Keep your eyes locked on mine,” I continued.

His violet eyes twinkled beneath the moonlight and it almost looked like stars danced across his eyes as they softened, placing his other hand on my waist. He knew exactly what song I was referencing. After all, I’d made him watch it enough times with me. “And let the music be your guide.”

I nodded, cuing him to step with me. With his eyes wholly fixed on me, we slowly stepped into time, our shoes gently tapping against the pavement.

“Won't you promise me,” Rhys chimed.

Pulling me closer against his chest, Rhysand guided me across the makeshift dance floor—the walkway between the trees—with a step here and a half turn there. We were dancing through the gardens illuminated by the night sky and lamp posts down the pathway as we waltzed further in.

“Now won't you promise me, that you'll never forget.”

“We'll keep dancing,” added Rhys.

“To keep dancing.” A smile curved across my lips.

“Wherever we go next.” Our voices intertwined as we spun together, my hands held on to him tighter as the rain picked up. Swaying through the path of greenery, the scenery around us dissolved. It was just Rhys and I.

Thunder crashed above, and the true downpour began.

“It's like catching lightning the chances of finding someone like you,” we continued. I couldn’t help but smile brightly up at him as rain trailed down his face. The buzzing feeling from earlier that had coursed through my body now turned into a tingly feeling that reached from where Rhys was holding my hand—my fingers—to my chest. No, my body wasn’t buzzing, it was humming. We might have been dancing but I was floating in his embrace. I couldn’t look away from him.

With every lyric, raindrops painted our clothes a shade darker. My indigo cardigan was now inked navy as we swayed to the invisible music. My feet splashed against puddles, drenching my white shoes in rainwater. They’d likely be gray by the time I got home but that didn’t matter. As our feet shuffled across the pathway, the sky reflected itself over the water on the trail creating an illusion of stars beneath our feet. We were dancing among the stars.

We sang the rest of the song, never messing up the lyrics or missing a beat. We might have been recreating a moment by singing a song from one of my favorite films but this waltz was entirely made up by us. Rhys’s hand still grasping mine, spun me around as we brought the sound of the music in our chests to a slow end. His eyes were still on mine as we held our soaking bodies close. Was he always this beautiful?

I couldn’t help but marvel at his handsomeness and let an intrusive thought get the better of me as I ran my fingers across his cheek. He leaned into my warm touch, eyes softening. His eyes glanced from mine down to my lips. Please, I pleaded. I could feel my heart racing and my chest tightening at the thought of his lips on mine. Rhysand cleared his throat as his hands gently let go of mine, breaking the spell.

Taking a step back, he scanned me from head to toe and chuckled. “I bet we look like drowned rats to anyone looking out their windows.”

I shook my head, holding back a smile.

“I feel like one too,” I said. Looking down at my jeans, there was not a dry spot on them.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Had we just had a moment? I must have hallucinated it in the dark lighting. There was no way that Rhysand had looked like he’d wanted to kiss me two seconds ago. I wasn’t ignorant, I’d known Rhysand was objectively attractive. He had a strong jawline and he was fit from working out every week with Cassian and Azriel. He had nice cheekbones, luscious lashes, soft lips, and intelligent eyes. He was delightful to look at. He was…

Who was I kidding, he was handsome beyond compare. I just had never seen him in that way until now. Mother above, I was oblivious as they came. And I wished I could have blamed the alcohol for all of it—the way I was feeling, the thoughts I was having—but the truth was, I’d burned it out of my system with that dance.

‘We should get going,” said Rhys.

He grabbed my bag off the ground and we walked the rest of the way in awkward silence. I kept glancing sideways at him every so often. I’d definitely hallucinated that moment we’d had for a split second. The rest of the way to my place, I spent it looking at the ground contemplating while Rhysand stared at the stars as if searching for a cosmic answer.

By the time we made it to my place, we were full-on drenched. I was sure my hair looked like a wet mop attached to my head. I patted my pockets in search of the key and found it in the left back pocket of my jeans. They jingled in my hands as I fumbled looking for the right one.

“I hope you’re not planning to walk back in this. At least let me offer you a towel.” I glanced sideways as I turned the key.

He didn’t argue. In fact, he didn’t say anything at all. He’d stayed quiet and simply nodded as I led him in. With Viviane at her boyfriend’s for the weekend, there was no one home. All the lights were off as we walked in. I flipped the light switches as we stepped through the place in search of something dry. In the hallway closet, I found some towels for us. Meanwhile, I could hear Rhys in the kitchen opening and closing the cabinets.

As I turned the corner, I could see him pulling out two teabags from a box before his head turned in my direction. "I'll put the kettle on."

"So sweet of you, you're an angel," I said.

On top of being handsome, he was very thoughtful. Was I really falling for my best friend? I couldn’t help but keep my eyes locked on him as he turned on the stove and prepared tea for us. I bit my lower lip and turned towards the dryer that was hidden behind a sliding door. Neither of us was shivering or in any danger of getting frostbite, but a warm towel would certainly go well with tea. After a few minutes, the machine beeped just as the kettle began hissing. I pulled both towels out of the dryer and practically moaned at the warm touch against my skin.

“Would you like a dry towel?” I offered.

“You don’t want my wet handkerchief to dry your wet face?” He glanced sideways at me as he poured water into each cup with a smirk painted across his face.

I giggled and walked further into the kitchen. As soon as he placed the kettle back on the stove, I threw a towel over my shoulder and placed the other one on his head as he turned around to face me. I ran the towel over his head, drying his hair before sliding it over his shoulders and wrapping it around his body.

I looked up at him. “My hair is soaked, Rhys.”

The clothes we were wearing could have easily squeezed out two gallons of water. I could have probably fed my succulents with the amount of liquids soaked into our outfits. If I could have thrown myself in the dryer too, I would have knocked out two birds with one stone.

Standing in front of me, wrapped around in my towel, he looked adorable. Rhys’s eyes met mine and I could have sworn time stopped. All I could do was stare up at him. Oh gosh, was I staring? I blinked rapidly and dropped my gaze.

“You still look beautiful,” he said.

I felt my heart stop and my breath hitch. My hands stilled on his body still holding on to the light blue towel. Did he mean it in a friendly way? I glanced back up. His eyes peered down at me searching for something in mine. My lips parted as if to speak but I wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, I closed my mouth and swallowed.

“Feyre.”

The way he said my name made my heart skip. He took a step, closing the gap between us. My name sounded low like a prayer on his lips. If he was praying, then I wanted to bless him but I needed a sign. I wanted a clear sign that he wasn’t just whispering my name in an empty apartment for no reason.

“Why didn’t you kiss me earlier?” I half whispered.

His eyes glanced from my eyes to my mouth and back in a triangle manner. A small smile painted itself across his lips like a prayer answered. “You caught that.”

It wasn’t a question, he was making a statement.

“I wanted to be sure your head was clear when I kissed you,” said Rhysand.

“Rhys?”

“Yes?”

A pause.

“My head’s clear now,” I said.

Rhysand's head slowly leaned forward, stopping inches from my face, giving me time to take a step back if I wanted to back out. I didn’t. I wanted—needed, to know what his lips felt like on mine. If they were truly as soft as they looked. His fingers titled my chin up and kissed me. Gods, his kiss was more than soft, it was life-changing. His lips were gentle against mine, so sweet and delicately slow like he’d been waiting an eternity for this moment and now that he had it, now that the moment had arrived he wanted to savor it. If I’d been floating earlier when I danced with him beneath the rain, then I was soaring above the clouds and beyond the moon now.

His hands cupped my face as mine slid into his hair, pulling him closer by the neck. Neither one of us parted to take a breath. I could tell this wasn’t just any kiss, this was the kiss. The one that would change our lives—my life—forever. The kiss I’d compare any other to. I could feel his chest against mine as our legs brushed against each other. Rhysand's hands slowly slid down my shoulders and arms and made their way down and around my waist. We pulled each other closer, our bodies seeking contact where they could as we continued wrapping ourselves against each other. We were two colliding stars, bursting with sparks and ever-changing hues.

After what felt like forever, I pulled back slightly, eyes closed. Blood had rushed into my cheeks, and there was no doubt that the heat against my flushed face had painted them rosy. I could feel his head leaning against mine, both of us breathless. Mother above, I truly was oblivious to everything. That definitely wasn’t a friend kiss. That was an I-want-to-be-more-than-friends kiss.

Rhysand’s hand came up against my face tucking strands of semi-wet hair behind my ear. It felt like he was looking at me for the first time or trying to memorize every freckle on my face. A beat passed and he broke the silence. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

My heart skipped at those words—at his confession. My mouth gaped. There were no words. I wasn’t sure what to say. All I could focus on was the rising and beating in my chest as I focused on taking the next breath. Had this really just happened? Had we truly just kissed? Did he just say that he—

“I’m hoping you didn’t just kiss me to then break my heart, Feyre, darling.” He cupped my face as he spoke the last two words.

“I never knew you liked me,” I said, stumbling on the words.

“Now you do. And correction, I said I love you.” The corners of Rhysand’s mouth turned up. I couldn’t help the way my eyes widened in disbelief. He’d said the words again.

“You love me?”

Rhys chuckled as he shook his head. He lifted my head with a hand beneath my chin as if inspecting me. “Did you hit yourself with the dryer door? Do I need to kiss you again? Or maybe hold your hand as we walk through a storm? Or dance in the rain while quoting your favorite movie?”

He loved me. He loved me, and he not only meant it with the words he’d spoken, but Rhys had demonstrated and proved time and time again that he truly meant it, body and soul. A man who could talk the talk and walk the walk. Dare I say, he was a man after my own heart.

“If you let me, I promise I’ll spend every day making sure you never doubt how worthy of love you are,” said Rhys. The back of his hand caressed my cheek.

“I’ll do anything with you, Rhys. As long as it’s you,” I said.

His lips met mine again, this time with more passion and intensity. Wrapping my hands around his neck once more, I felt the towel slide off his shoulders and plop to the ground. Rhys's hands traveled around my hips, to the back of my thighs before he lifted me into his arms. Instinctually, I wrapped my legs around him and deepened our kiss. I wanted him closer. I wanted his body against mine without the barriers of our wet clothes.

As if he’d read my thoughts, I could feel us moving down the hallway to my room. Every kiss turned deeper than the last and I knew I couldn’t deny myself the truth. I was completely and utterly in love with him. And I was a fool for not noticing before that maybe I had loved him longer than my body knew. Longer than I truly knew. He was my safe space, my person, my best friend. He was everything I could want in a man. He was everything. Rhys was everything.

Gently laying me against my bed, he pulled back slightly to look down at me. His eyes were like lilac-blue stars glistening against the moonlight as he marveled at me. It was almost like he couldn’t believe that this was real. I placed my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb. His lips smiled against my warm touch.

“I can’t stop smiling when I look at you,” said Rhys.

He gazed at me like a painter setting eyes on their muse. Like he’d been seeking inspiration his entire life and now he’d found it. Rhys shook his head in disbelief. “How did this happen?”

The question wasn’t for me to answer, it was rhetorical. He was speaking his thoughts aloud as if waiting for a cosmic answer to shine through the window. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Feyre.

“When I wake up, when I’m about to fall asleep, even in my dreams I can never stop thinking of you. When you’re not with me, it feels like something is missing. And, gosh, I hate poetry, but when I think of you…I can’t help but imagine that this is what the greats write about. This feeling. It’s like poets are reciting their writings in my head.”

I could feel the corners of my eyes becoming damp. I could spend the rest of this night in his arms simply admiring him. His honest eyes were full of more unspoken words of love. I could feel the wetness of my clothes seeping into the blanket below but I didn’t care. I thumbed his lips, his Apollo’s arched bow, memorizing this moment. I could feel my shaky voice escaping me as I spoke.

“All these years, I thought we were just friends, and I was okay with that…but now I realize that maybe I’ve felt like this for a while about you. That I’ve loved you without knowing that this is what it was.”

“You love me?” A smile spread across his lips.

“Did you hit yourself with the door coming in? Or do I need to kiss you again?” I mimicked his earlier question.

He gently rubbed his nose against mine, his lips inches from my own.

“Kiss me again,” he whispered.

I moaned against his lips this time. I wanted him to hold me, to touch me, to kiss me, to say my name. I wanted everything and more. We tugged against wet clothes, which were much harder to take off thanks to their added weight. They stuck to our bodies and made it difficult to slide out of them. But we didn’t care. We kissed and laughed our way out of the heavy wet clothing until we were skin to skin. Until we were finally warm in each other's embrace. And for the first time in a while, I prayed.

Rhys.

I prayed the rest of the night as his body melded against mine, pulling prayer after prayer from my lips. His name, the only one I wanted to whisper against the moonlight shining through my window. It was only our names echoing from the other’s lips against soft I love yous with every touch and shift against hips. We were dancing like stars in the night sky, and holding on to each other as if we’d collided into one. Our whispers and sighs grew more uneven. He was my gravity, my center, and I was his. With Rhys’s eyes on mine and a final waltz around the universe, I felt my world burst like a nuclear fission. Like a star reaching its last evolutionary stage.

Rhys kissed me again, softer this time, and wrapped me in his arms as we lay beneath the comfort of warm blankets, tangled in each other. Pulling me against his chest, he whispered. "Did you know that rainy day cuddles are two times more effective than sunny day cuddles?"

“Don’t you have to tell Cas to lock the door for you,” I said.

“That can wait,” said Rhys, kissing the top of my head.

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reyescarlos · 8 months

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it's been two months since i did one of these, oh wow. life is keen on keeping me busy and away from writing, but still, this fic lives rent free in my head. here's another snippet to the college exes. thanks @sunshinestrand @pragmatic-optimist and @strandtk for the encouragement to keep going with this story 💜💕

Carlos looks back out over the view and draws in a breath.

“It’s amazing to think about, isn’t it? Just how many lives are being lived right here on campus. We’ve got future doctors, biologists, lawyers, and about a thousand other professions. People are falling in and out of love, creating memories. It’s…I don’t know,” Carlos says, shaking his head. “It’s pretty remarkable.”

He glances at TK who is staring at him, brows knitted.

Carlos swallows hard. “Sorry. I think I think too much,” he muses. “That probably sounded weird.”

TK comes closer to him and stands beside him.

“I like hearing what you think and I like knowing how you see the world. I don’t think it’s weird at all. Total opposite, actually.”

Carlos pinches his lips together, his brows furrowing. It’s so strange to think that he’s only known TK for less than two months and already this boy can make him feel so comfortable within himself when little else does.

TK’s still looking at him with a face Carlos can’t fully read. It makes Carlos nervous, not necessarily uncomfortable though which he feels is an important distinction.

TK’s eyes drift slightly to his lips for the briefest of moments before they land on his eyes again. Carlos feels as if he could just burst out of his skin.

“What?” he asks quietly.

TK blinks twice like he’s snapping out of some sort of trance.

“Nothing. Sorry. I just…,” he trails off, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m really glad we met.”

It’s Carlos’ turn to stare now.

“Me too,” he replies sincerely.

TK smiles and walks backwards before taking a seat on the roof and laying back. Carlos studies him for a moment before coming over and doing the same.

TK’s eyes are fixed on the sky above them where bright pinpricks of stars litter the dark expanse. Carlos stares up too as he gets comfortable.

“It’s crazy just how much brighter the stars are down here. I think that’s one of my favorite parts about Texas,” TK says quietly.

Carlos smiles at this.

“They’re even clearer at my family’s ranch. I can’t tell you how many nights my sisters and I would camp out, especially during the summers.”

“I’m so jealous,” TK teases. “But that must have been awesome.”

“Maybe one day you could see it too?” Carlos turns to look at TK and finds the boy already staring at him. His heart beats a bit faster at the realization combined with the soft look in TK’s clear eyes.

“I’d like that a lot. I’ll become one with nature and all that jazz.”

Carlos barks out a laugh.

“I would pay good money to see you getting your hands dirty with the animals.”

TK scoffs, exaggerating his upset.

“I’ll have you know I can pull my weight. I may have grown up in Manhattan, yes, but I’m not afraid of a challenge.”

Carlos searches his eyes and TK cocks a brow defiantly.

“You’re such a little shit,” Carlos says.

“So much for southern hospitality.”

Carlos laughs and shoves his shoulder playfully, feeling his heart leap a bit at touching him.

He shakes his head and keeps talking before he can start overthinking.

“First thing I’d have you do on the ranch is tend to the horses. They’ve always been my favorites.”

“How many do you guys have?”

“A couple, but Cheyenne…that’s my girl. She’s a gorgeous American Paint Horse. She’s the sweetest thing.”

Carlos pauses and fishes his phone out of his pocket. He flips through his camera roll and finds a few recent shots of her he’d taken before the start of term.

He hands his phone over to TK to have a look.

“She’s thirteen. I was there when she was born so I feel very protective of her. I don’t know, I’m biased but she’s my absolute favorite. I love them all though.”

TK continues flitting through the pictures.

“You can shut me up at any time, by the way,” Carlos says.

TK’s brows furrow, looking away from the phone and handing it back.

“Why would I? I told you; I like listening to you. I honestly meant that.”

Carlos can feel heat spread across his face at that, at the clear sincerity in TK’s voice. He makes Carlos feel special in a way no one else ever has, at least not this effortlessly, like dishing out such sweet words is just instinctive.

Carlos continues talking without getting too in his head, telling TK more about his life growing up. TK hangs onto every word and offers up stories of his own about his childhood in New York. It’s all too easy to lose track of time as they trade anecdotes back and forth.

But, eventually, Carlos notices that the sky above them has grown even darker, the air chillier too.

“It’s getting late,” he says reluctantly, hating the fact that they can’t just sit out here forever.

TK frowns but nods. “Yeah, we should probably call it. But maybe we can hang out again tomorrow? You know, assuming you haven’t reached your capacity with me for the weekend yet,” he laughs, but Carlos can swear he hears a few drops of worry coloring TK’s tone.

He rises from the ground and extends a hand back to TK, helping him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, instead choosing to bask in the warmth of his skin against his.

TK surprises him, taking it one step further and lacing their fingers. His expression doesn’t change and so Carlos does his best not to react, to pretend this is commonplace, like his heart isn’t ramming desperately against his chest. Like his body isn’t aching for even more contact between them.

He fights to keep his voice even as he replies, “Not even a little bit. You’re on for tomorrow and any day after that.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #wip wednesday #userthai #tuserpaige #tusersonia #usernicholas #usersteen #tusersilence #kimmy writes

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apprenticestanheight · 3 months

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All is Well That Ends Well: Lawrence Gordon x gn! afab! reader: Part I

Allllllll right!! The long awaited sugar daddy lawrence fic is here!! Well, the first part is, but anyway--sugar daddy anon, if you're reading this, thank you so much for planting the seeds of an idea in my head. I wrote the entirety of the first section of this fic across four days and have plenty more to write still, but truthfully none of this would've occurred had you not popped an ask into my inbox.

There are six parts for this section and in total, before editing, it amounted to 18k words and 38 pages on MS Word. I can't say exactly how many words the fic will amount to in total, but I can say that, if it goes as I expect, the fic will definitely climb past the 40-50k word mark and might even hit and then climb over 100k words. Updates will be posted weekly on thursdays and typically at or around the same time!

Fic type - this first part is pretty neutral--fluffy-neutral mostly.

Warnings - the reader is passively suicidal (the fic is set in 2002 initally and throwaway jokes of that were common. Plus, I wrote this while in the midst of an exhaustion enduced brain fog and it's just one throwaway line, which Lawrence does react at them for) and there are a few mentions of debt, plus a mention or two of Jiggysaw himself, john kramer (not by name--as the Jigsaw killer)

You’d always known that you wanted to get a PhD. To you, a doctorate had been the endgame of your education—first, a bachelors and a masters at your university of choice, and then a PhD as the endgame.

The one thing that you’d underestimated—as most high school seniors do—was how much it’d cost you.

For the full four years of your bachelors, what you’d gotten from relatives and the small—$50,000—nest egg given to you by your parents had been completely depleted. Even after the grants and scholarships you’d applied for, you were still $20,000 in debt and that wasn’t even the beginning of it. At the end of things, you took out loans and proceeded with your plan for your masters degree.

You’d gotten your Masters degree when you were 26 and thereafter, after nearly a decade of living at a crappy apartment near the university campus with one of your favorite people in the entirety of the continent, you still went ahead and decided to get yourself a PhD in creative writing. It was a six year program but you’d told yourself it would be worth your while, so you went ahead with it.

All in all, it was a plan to devote fourteen years at minimum to your education, and you’d yet to have any regrets in relation to it because it seemed to be panning out in a way better than you'd expected.

And, anyway, by 2002, you were halfway through your fourth year of the six years you owed to the PhD program and hoping that the degree would take you somewhere useful. It was also your birthday by that point, and you were looking to go to a dive bar, get drunk, meet someone and then do a couple of drunken things you’d both regret the next morning.

You’d decided to celebrate your thirtieth birthday in a dive bar you couldn’t really afford normally, but making the minimum payments on your student loans had allowed you to A, be spiteful because getting an education realistically shouldn’t be expected to toss the average persons bank account into the negatives, and B, have a bit of extra money every paycheck.

You’d also decided to spend the birthday mostly alone—sure, to any extrovert within a twenty mile radius it was a pathetic way to spend the day, but to you it was optimal, especially considering that you’d spent the bigger part of the day with a couple of friends studying as it were—and that seems to have panned out in your favor until a guy sits to your right at the bar counter.

“Are you spending the night alone?” An unfamiliar voice pipes up. You look to the source of it, turning your head to the right and finding a rather attractive man sat next to you. “With that Jigsaw killer on the loose? Not a smart idea.”

He’s handsome—his attractiveness is the first thing you notice. He’s got well groomed blonde hair, full lips, alluring eyes that are the color of the sea after a storm, and a voice that feels to you like whatever goodness can come from walking with combat boots over cobblestoned streets.

He’s well kept, too—he’s wearing a pair of black dress pants, a white button up and a blue tie. His cufflinks radiate wealth, as does his drink of choice. A scotch on the rocks that looks like it’s aged and aged well.

You scoff. “What, are you him? Do you know the guy?” A smirk plays at your lips. “I happen to be in severe debt and lacking a will to keep going, so if you do, I’d appreciate a referral.”

The man to your right scoffs. “You’d fail the test intentionally, and those jokes aren't funny.”

You shrug. “I am more than a hundred thousand dollars in debt in the name of my education. I am apt to think that wanting for death to avoid the loan sharks that call me a few times every month to try to get me to pay more than the minimum required on said debt is not totally unreasonable.”

The man laughs. “I would never go to such lengths, but the grants that you can get from the government for the endurance of traumatic experiences might help you in the debt department,” he says. “However—a Jigsaw trap is not how to get that money. It's a lot more painful than it's worth, and sometimes the reasons he tests his subjects for are kind of cruel, so trust me, it’s not worth it. What education has put you into so much debt?”

“A Bachelors in Fine Arts, a Masters in Fine Arts, and I am currently four years into a six year PhD program. The endgame with that is to get myself a PhD in Creative Writing and move on to either working as a literary critic or in a publishing house.”

“Interesting,” he nods. He extends a hand, and you shake it. “My name is Dr. Lawrence Gordon.”

“Y/N,” you grin at him. “Doctor, you said? What kind of doctor are you?”

“I’m an oncologist,” he says. “Board certified attending oncologist at Angels of Mercy, matter of fact. I give people the bad news, typically. What do you do, outside of schooling?”

“I work for about twelve dollars above minimum wage in a mom and pop style bookstore. I read and drink coffee on my breaks and study for my degree when I’m not with friends or at work, or in a bar to celebrate my thirtieth birthday with a martini that puts me out eight dollars.”

At this, the handsome man whom you’ve learned more about than you’d ordinarily have liked across the span of ten minutes at best puts his card forward and opens a tab, adds your martini to it with a cocky, flirtatious grin.

“You’re confident,” you murmur.

He shrugs. “I was in a loveless marriage for nearly two decades,” he says. “The divorce proceedings started in the middle of September, and my therapist says I need to get out there a bit. Figured keeping someone in the process of getting their PhD from having to pay for a drink was at least a plausible way to start.”

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” you laugh, taking a sip of your martini. “I joked with my best friend—Aurelie Summers—that I’d be fine to be someones sugar baby the other day. Commitment is the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Paying off loans of past, present, and future seems to be,” Lawrence notes. “But—for the record, neither am I. My last serious relationship became loveless and ended in a mostly amicable divorce where I lost custody of my kid. You’re attractive, absolutely, but I have no interest in anything serious if it’ll end exactly as the last one did.”

“Is that…emotional baggage I sense?” You ask, teasing flirtatiousness making it’s way into your tone. “If you’d lead with that, I would’ve paid a lot more attention to you initially, Lawrence.”

Lawrence scoffs. “You like those in need of fixing?”

“Not particularly,” you say. “They tend to like me, is all.”

“You draw broken people in, you fix them, and then they get to be better for the next person,” Lawrence nods to himself. “That is what you’re telling me, correct?”

You shrug, toss him a grin and sip your martini mockingly.

“Wish I’d get one of the ones who’d been fixed every once in a bit,” you laugh. It sounds depressing.

“For the record—it’s not emotional baggage. It’s a divorce that I saw coming, the timing is just poor.”

“Did you fail to get a promotion at work and then come home to divorce papers?” You ask, thoroughly amused by the idea.

“The Jigsaw killer trapped me and I was served the papers while I was recovering from a self-amputation, but thank you for the amusing hypothesis,” Lawrence says, a grin turning up the corners of his lips. “This has been a very interesting conversation.”

You grin. “Thank you for finding me interesting. Also for the drink.”

Lawrence nods, gets the bartenders attention and orders you two more before he closes out the tab he’d gotten.

“Whether or not I see you again, happy birthday, Y/N,” he says as he stands. It's at this point that you notice a cane in his hand, the grip he holds on it relaxed but still tight enough to maintain control.

“Whether or not I see you again, thank you,” you nod. “If I do see you again though, I’m gonna want specifics about your job. Seems interesting, and as much as I love the process that it has become to get the fullest extent of my education, I wouldn’t hate going an hour or two every now and again without hearing or thinking of writing or art.”

“And if you know anything about art history or writing, that is what I’m interested in,” Lawrence says, a smirk playing it’s way onto his gorgeous lips. “It’d be nice, getting to leave work and then focus on something that’s not medicinal.”

And then he’s gone.

You watch him walk out, spend the next fifteen minutes drinking the martinis he’d gotten you while rejecting the advances of a guy who is a lot more interested in you than you are him. When you’ve finished up with your drinks you walk home, some very small part of you holding onto the hope that you’ll see Lawrence again before the month is up.

#lawrence gordon #lawrence gordon x reader #saw 2004

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rottentiger-art · 8 months

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Quogan with kids - Imagine how panicked/ridiculous Logan would be as Quinn’s water breaks and he has to drive her to the hospital. Or him holding her hand during labor and through the contractions.

I believe Logan would be overly attentive with Quinn's pregnancy, I think I mentioned before him buying whatever craving she has in bulks and make their friends/family rehearse what they have to do for the "big day" (yes, I am referencing Floricienta jajajja), but Quinn isn't far behind him.

I have some more headcanons for Quinn's pregnancy (I also have for them as parents, but then this post would be too long, so I'll leave that for another asks I got about the subject), remember this is settled in my Rebuilding PCA AU.

(had to divide this into sections bc there's an apparent limit for every list)

Finding out, to first Eco:

Despite having everything planned out, even when they were going to have children, the first baby came as a surprise.

I headcanon she took a test on her job. She had her suspicion about her symptoms, and had a doctor appointment in a few days, but she was too impatient to wait so she bought three pregnancy test (just to be sure) and took them on her job's bathroom.

But unexpected doesn't mean unwelcome. Quinn was very happy when she found out, definitely cried when she saw the two pink lines.

The thought of little baby, a mix of both her and Logan overwhelmed her with joy, unable to even worry if that might compromise her work at the moment.

Though she did think of it on her way home, she felt optimist. She acknowledge to herself that it will be hard and it will require more of her usual effort and focus, but she's Quinn Pensky-Reese! She's the mind of her generation, if anyone can handle an inventor's job, a school rebuilding and a pregnancy, that's her!

As soon as she got home, she went into her study and started organizing her schedule for the next months, in case the doctor confirmed it. Just to save time, time she would need later one, after all.

there was even more crying when the doctor told her that, yes, she was in fact pregnant. They settle a date for the first ecography.

Logan was the first one to know, of course. But Quinn waited until she had a doctor's confirmation before telling him, worried she'd get his hopes up only to end both disappointed.

I imagine she prepared a nice surprise dinner. He entered their home and found her waiting besides a candle lit table with his favorite dish. His first thought was wondering if he -somehow- forgot any important date, he even thinks "is it my birthday?".

But she reassured him before he even ask that she just wanted to surprise him. He notices she seems happier than usual, assuming she's about to tell him some really good news, (they know each other so well!!), tho he thinks it's probably related to the school renovation.

Her excitement took over and she couldn't wait until the end of the dinner, much to his relief because his curiosity was killing him.

She hands him a little gift box, and watches as his face changes, he goes from confusion as he opens it and takes a cute tiny PCA onesie, to realization. (note: the baby will be wearing that at some point, when Logan takes them to PCA, to show them the campus *cries*)

His eyes widens and he struggles to form words because he can't close his mouth. He's absolutely shocked.

Logan: "are you saying... we're having a baby?" and Quinn just nods excitedly, she also can't talk because she's already teary eyes.

Logan runs to hug her side, lifting her and spinning her around, so happy the protective dad mode hadn't kicked on yet lol.

He wants to tell everyone immediately, but she tells him it would be better to wait for the first eco, which would be after her first trimestre is completed, and explains to him all about those things (because you know she researched before the doctor appointment and also filled the doctor with questions lol)

He listens attentively because he wants to be aware about everything related to their little bundle of joy.

They're so annoying at the hospital for the eco, but the doctor is incredibly patient (bless them), despite them spilling question after question.

Quinn's scientific curiosity is in full swing as she bombards the ultrasound technician with a million questions about the technology and procedure.

Thankfully for the doctor, they shut up as soon as their baby shows up on the screen, as well as the first time they hear their heartbeat.

(little angsty headcanon: they were both terrified of not hearing a heartbeat, it made them anxious and afraid, they're first time parents after all, they're fucking scared *cries intensifies*)

As the doctor shows them the baby's hands and feet and nose and all that, Logan makes comments like "they're gonna have your nose!" or "oh, you're gonna be a such a heartbreaker, just like your dad"

He mostly tries to make Quinn laugh, and to ease both of their nervous.

The doctor asks if they want to know the gender of the bay, but they decide to save that for the baby shower, so they get it written down in an envelopment instead.

The technician offers to print out a few ultrasound pictures for them, where the gender of their baby could not be visible (already sensing these two would spend a lot of time looking at them and Quinn would definitely figure it out). Quinn practically squeals with delight, already envisioning how she'll document and cherish these precious snapshots. Logan grins, imagining himself showing off the pictures to anyone who will listen, beaming with pride.

As they leave the doctor's office, Quinn can't help but walk a little lighter, her hand resting protectively over her growing belly. Logan wraps an arm around her, pulling her close, his protective mode also activating on that moment

On the way home, they can't resist the urge to stop at a baby store. They fill the car with stuffed animals, and nursery decorations. They also pick out a few gender-neutral outfits, happily imagining their little one wearing them.

When they get home (after Logan settled all the heavy stuff they brought inside their home, because he's not letting her carry anything heavy ever again), they sit in the coach and spread the ultrasound pictures on the coffee table, looking at them and pointing little details they notice about their baby.

Announcement:

After indulging on this little moment, they finally call their friends and family to let them know the news. First their parents (Lyric was in the same room as Logan's parents, so she found out at the same time)

Their parent's are overjoyed, it's going to be the first grandchild in both families, with Quinn being an only child and Logan the first of Malcolm's children to be a parent (I'm still not sure Logan's older brother exist, but either way, first grandkid bc I say so), and at the end of the calls they promise to set a dinner to celebrate this news soon.

When Lyric hears the news, she raises an eyebrow and gives a nonchalant shrug, trying to maintain her composure. Deep down, however, she can't help but feel a surge of excitement and anticipation. She may not show it openly, but Lyric secretly starts researching the best auntie gifts and cool, trendy baby clothes. She's determined to be the "chillest" aunt, effortlessly blending her coolness with her newfound role.

Of their friends, the first to know were Lola and Michael, argue with the wall.

Lola squeals at the news, already declaring herself the best aunt this baby would have (Lyric would disagree if she was there, but whatever), she cracks a few jokes at Logan's expenses probably, I imagine their friendship still has that banter, like they pretend they still dislike each other. Something like, "I'm sure your baby will have enough of you to make up for the parts it gets from Logan" (english is failing me lol, but you get it), and tells them she would host the baby shower. Organizing event is still not much her thing, but she's too excited.

Michael is over the moon, and tells them he'd gladly conduct their baby shower, and tells them he already thought of baby names ideas. They tell them Lola already offered and he says he'll call her to let her help (Lola would probably let him do most of the job lol)

I just know this news would give Zoey and Chase another age/relationship crisis, but let's not focus on that for this. They're happy for their friends. They also offer to help with the baby shower, but Logan is quick to reject them lol. Though Quinn explains Michael and Lola are already on that, so they don't feel bad.

Pregnant Quinn:

Quinn becomes a walking encyclopedia during her pregnancy. She dives deep into researching every stage of fetal development and reads every book on pregnancy she can get her hands on. She's determined to understand every aspect of what's happening to her body and her growing baby.

Quinn's scientific mind goes into overdrive as she starts experimenting with various homemade remedies and concoctions to alleviate pregnancy symptoms

She creates her own natural remedies for morning sickness, swollen feet, and stuff, much to the amusement and amazement of her friends.

I like to keep a bit of the ridiculousness from the show into this, so I hc Quinn's pregnancy hormones send her emotions on a rollercoaster ride. She goes from crying over commercials to laughing uncontrollably at the slightest joke. Her friends and Logan learn to navigate this emotional whirlwind, providing comfort and support whenever she needs it.

Quinn's genius mind starts coming up with innovative inventions specifically designed for pregnancy. She designs a pillow that perfectly supports her growing belly while she sleeps, a wearable device that tracks fetal movements, and even a smart app that monitors her baby's health.

Her pregnancy cravings are a mix of the expected and the totally unexpected. One day, she craves pickles and ice cream, and the next, she insists on eating spaghetti with hot sauce and gummy worms.

As her due date approaches, Quinn becomes hyper-organized. She starts prepping freezer meals, organizing the nursery down to the tiniest detail, and even creating a hospital bag checklist for both her and Logan. She wants everything to be perfectly in place for their baby's arrival.

I like to thinks Quinn's love for science extends to documenting her pregnancy journey. She takes weekly belly pictures, meticulously tracks her weight gain, and even keeps a journal where she writes letters to her unborn baby. While she is treating it like a study, she also wants to capture every precious moment and memory for their little one to look back on.

Quinn's intelligence and curiosity lead her to attend every prenatal class their schedule allows, along with Logan ofc. She becomes the star student, asking insightful questions and even offering her own scientific explanations for certain topics. She kinda annoys the other parents on the classes, but the dirty look Logan gives the when they try to say something shuts them up.

Despite her scientific approach to pregnancy, Quinn also embraces the magical and emotional side of it all. She loves feeling her baby's kicks and hiccups, cherishes every ultrasound appointment, and eagerly awaits the moment she can hold her little one in her arms.

She loves talking to her baby, telling them about how their little body is developing and what awaits them and stuff.

She hopes their little one is a science fan like her, so she also tells them of science in general, specially while she works on her quinnventions, explaining the process to her belly.

No matter how many research she went through, the birth terrifies her, truth be told. She's a first time mother after all, how could she not. The thoughts of all the things that could go wrong filling her mind.

But she endures it, holding tight to Logan's hand. She keeps pushing and pushing until they finally hear the baby's cry.

All the pain and fear melting away the moment he baby is placed in her arms, she cries happily as she caresses their cheeks and coos at them, calming the babies' crying.

the sobbing doesn't stop even when the baby calms down and the doctors take them away to clean them and weight them, neither her or Logan taking their eyes off their child, even when he leans down to kiss her forehead, whispering sweet words at her.

Daddy-to-be Logan:

From the moment Quinn tells Logan she's pregnant, he can't contain his excitement. He starts researching everything about pregnancy and parenting, creating boards filled with nursery ideas, baby names, and parenting hacks.

He creates an elaborate color-coded pregnancy planner. It includes doctor's appointments, prenatal classes, and even a detailed birth plan. He wants everything to be perfectly planned and scheduled for the arrival of their little one.

He takes it upon himself to fulfill every single one of her cravings. He becomes her "master chef", whipping up all sorts of weird food combinations she asks for, even if it means making a peanut butter and pickle sandwich at 3 a.m.

Logan insists on attending every doctor's appointment with Quinn, taking copious notes and asking the doctor a million questions. He's determined to be the most involved and informed dad ever.

As Quinn's baby bump grows, Logan becomes the ultimate protector. He's constantly fretting over her well-being, making sure she doesn't lift heavy objects, and even wrapping her in bubble wrap (metaphorically) to ensure nothing happens to their little one.

Logan starts talking to Quinn's baby bump, telling stories, singing lullabies, and even playing his favorite songs. He's convinced the baby can hear him and wants to establish a bond before they even arrive.

But he does not neglects Quinn, he pays just as much attention to her.

When it comes to baby shopping, Logan goes all out. He insists on buying the most comfy and safe stroller, the comfiest crib, and the cutest baby clothes. He spends hours meticulously researching and comparing products, determined to provide the best for his little family.

Logan becomes a master at assembling baby furniture... after many fails. He spends countless afternoons putting together the crib until he figures out how that thing works, changing tables, and rocking chairs. He'd usually hire someone to do the job for him, but he wanted to do this himself, no matter how frustrating it became, it was worth it.

As Quinn's due date approaches, Logan becomes a nervous wreck. He's constantly checking his phone, ready to rush to the hospital at a moment's notice. He even has a fully packed hospital bag prepared for both Quinn and himself, complete with snacks, a change of clothes, and a camera to capture every moment.

When the day finally arrives, Logan is a ball of nerves and excitement. He paces the hospital waiting room, wearing a path into the floor, until finally, he gets the news that Quinn is in labor.

He practically sprints to her side, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement throughout the whole process.

And when their little bundle of joy finally enters the world, Logan's heart swells with love and pride. He can't help but cry tears of joy, overwhelmed with emotions as he holds his baby for the first time, promising to be the best dad they could ever ask for.

It's definitely the happiest day of their life, and once home, they can hardly take their eyes off their baby, so thankful to have them there, unable to contain the infinite amount of love their feel for them.

And that's most of my quogan pregnancy headcanons, hope you liked them.

#ask box #anon #quogan #zoey 102 #zoey 101 #logan reese #quinn pensky #quinn x logan #quogan baby #rebuilding PCA au #(kinda. it's settled there)#quogan headcanons

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purplesimmer455 · 2 months

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Malaya had made a doctor’s appointment for that coming Saturday to determine if she was pregnant. In the meantime, she tries not to dwell on it, and spends time with her girlfriend Casey, both of them having completed their finals and turned in the last papers and projects. They hang out by the family’s pool, and goof around in the water before Malaya paints for fun and Casey chats with her. “You look beautiful, Mal.” Casey says softly, and Malaya blushes. “Thanks Case, you too.” She says. "I just want you to know I respect whichever choice you make, but if you do keep the baby I want to raise them with you and maybe not now but eventually move into our own place and go from there." Casey says, and Malaya smiles, blinking back tears again. "I'd like that, Case. And yeah, I'm so unsure right now, but I'm so glad I have my moms, and Fin, and you." She says, and Casey smiles.

Malaya actually met Casey a few months ago during a group hangout and Malaya hadn’t been sure if Casey was the one for her at first. Sure, she thought Casey was gorgeous and liked talking with her, and they’d even gone to Newcrest Children’s Dance Academy as kids around the same time, with Malaya doing ballet and Casey having done ballroom dancing, but they were different. Malaya was so focused on becoming a principal dancer at her favorite ballet school, and working on her skills and improving her dancing. Casey was more chill and laid back and go with the flow, even by choosing a random major for college and taking classes to learn and have fun, which Malaya couldn’t figure out at first. But now, Malaya likes their relationship, and she feels like they balance each other out well. They're even attending Foxbury together from home, with Casey taking two courses online and one in person and Malaya commuting by bus to the campus three days and having two days free. Since Casey's in-person class is on Fridays, she usually comes to Malaya's house and stays Thursday afternoon to Sunday morning and heads back home to her dads apartment in San Myshuno for the other part of the week. It works well so they see each other a lot but also have some space.

#ts4 #mysims #Chesa Isip-Mendoza #Madeleine Sasaki #Finley Sasaki #Casey Feng-Cooper #Malaya Isip-Mendoza

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thecameronchronicles · 1 year

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The Price of Greed 2

TW: Dark!JJ. Smut. Language. Mentions of pregnancy. Mentions of terminating pregnancy.

SUMMARY: The consequences of JJ’s ambition come to light.

WORD COUNT: 1400

The Price of Greed 2

Never before had two minutes felt so long. And all you could do now was wait. Wondering if you would be forced to raise JJ Maybank’s offspring. The idea made your blood boil strictly for the way it had come about. The memory of how he’d left you without a choice and helpless beneath his strength had haunted you since he left your father’s shop, only to return now, pregnancy test in hand, and demanding you show him the results.

“Okay…” He spoke as the timer belted from his phone, leading your eyes in reluctance to the screen of the test.

“I knew it…I knew you were fertile…” The words stilled you in place as you weren’t in need of seeing the test yourself to understand the reality of your future.

“Now you’ll have no choice-” But you would surprise him by the push against his chest in the bathroom of your father’s shop.

“You son of a bitch! You’ve ruined my life! I had dreams, JJ! I was going to go to college! I was only working here to help save enough money to live off campus!”

“Now you don’t have to worry about it…”

“What exactly IS your plan now, hmm? Are YOU gonna work while I stay at home or are YOU gonna stay home? We can’t afford daycare and sure as hell not a nanny…What about diapers and doctors appointments-those things cost money!” But as you cursed him, a new side he wasn’t aware you held having now shown itself, all he could do was smirk. The sight of these dimples having usually been the cause for your slick panties, you only glared at him now.

“Hmm?!” You charged against him, your wrists now collected and forced on the wall behind you as his knee rested between your legs to keep you from kneeing him or running away.

“I could always stop it.”

“Stop it? Think it’s a bit late for-” His eyes suddenly darted up to you when realizing what you were in reference to.

“You do anything that stupid and you’ll have me to deal with me…”

“What worse can you do to me? You may have accepted the fact that you have no future, but I had one-” His grip on your wrists worsened as tears poured down your cheeks. For just a moment as you were enraged, you saw something similar to guilt across his face. As if your words managed to penetrate his heart of stone and stubborn ambitions. But you would be silenced with his lips pressed to yours.

“YOU are my future.” His words stunned you as you analyzed the sincerity in his expression.

“You and our baby-” The words nauseated you worse than the morning sickness you'd felt since a week prior, stronger each day and making even your most favorite foods as effective as ipecac. But something within you snapped, not anger, but a further realization that you understand that there was no going back. For that, you forced your wrists free by a surprise pull, and walked him to the other side of the bathroom.

“You took advantage of me, JJ…You forced me into this…so THIS time…It’s for ME-” You pushed him onto his knees, already pulling yourself out of your clothes, as he was eager to pull your leg over his shoulder. Rather quickly, you found the aid of his tongue across your aching clit. For this was the final annoying symptom you’d had this last week, unbridled arousal that made even your most violent attempts at self-gratification being lackluster at the memory of him.

“Fuck me with your tongue until I come on it.” You ordered as he kept his eyes to you as you arched your back from the wall and pulled at his hair.

“Use your fingers-” He was swift to obey, leading his hand to your sex, one ringed finger inserted first, followed by a second, and resting in a bend as you gasped.

“Right there!” You belted as he fixated on that spot, the most delicious pressure and pull working in unison to his tongue to your clit as you began to rock against him.

“Make me come…make me fucking come, JJ…” He nodded, doing everything in his power, despite the ache in his jaw, as he luxuriated in the dominance you forced over him. But as he tried, a sudden grip made through his hair left his tongue to the air as he huffed beneath you.

“Tell me you’re sorry. Not that it means anything, not that I’ll forgive you…I just want to hear you say it.” You explained with tears furthering their distance down your cheeks.

“I’m not gonna lie.” Your eyes narrowed as he rose back to his feet, but as your hands moved to put him back between your legs, he set his fingers back into your sex.

“I’ve wanted you for so long and I’m stupid enough to think I’d be anything more than quick fuck to you…So I did this the way I knew how. But I am NOT sorry about it. But I will take care of this…of you…of this baby…but right now…I’m gonna make it sweet for you…” He explained, quickening his fingers and taking his second hand to your breast, kissing your nipple before pulling it between his teeth and sucking it just as he had to your clit, only slower.

“You were right, I didn’t give you a choice. But now you have one.” He explained, rising from your breast and taking that hand to your jaw.

“You can let me do this and take care of you…or you can make it harder for us both. Your choice, sweetheart…Because it’s the only time you’ll get one. After this, you’re not out of my sight…you’ll be fed and adored and cherished and whatever other shit you need until you give me this baby. And then after that…” He withdrew his fingers, “You’ll give me another one…and another one…” Your eyes widened.

“Do you know why?” You clenched your jaw as he brushed the tear from your cheek.

“Because I’ve never had anyone like you-”

“You don’t have me-” You spoke behind tense teeth. He forced your leg to his hip as he forced himself inside of you as you struggled for only a moment before the familiar fulfillment made you ease with relief.

“I think the fact you’re gonna be full with MY baby suggests just how much ‘mine’ you are-”

“Who says it’s even yours?” You shot back as he cocked his jaw.

“Because you’re a good girl, princess. Even though I took you first, I know this pretty little pussy enough to know it’s only been indented with my cock….Just. Like. Now.” He spoke the last three words with painful thrusts as you winced to the pain.

“And I will be the LAST one to take you, too.” He grunted, taking your second leg around his waist as you would relinquish yourself to him, needing him more than the need to loathe him as he grunted with those quickening paces. Gravity working in support of the descent made of his dick as you arched your back in response. Between these movements, you would feel his lips and teeth against your breasts, driving your sensations deeper.

“Come for me. You first.” He ordered as you didn’t even grant a momentary glance or nod, you just allowed your body to become washed in the pleasure of this release.

“Fuck-”

“YES!” He growled into your skin. As he had released himself into you, setting you back onto your feet, his fingers came to your clit, forcing his seed back inside of you.

“What are you-”

“If you weren’t pregnant before, you definitely will be now-”

“What are you talking about?” At that same moment of him going to speak, you rushed to the pregnancy test, a negative result staring back at you as you’d realized it wasn’t morning sickness that made you nauseated but the moments with him and the arousal had been in the confusing need to repeat what he had done to you. At least it was either this or the fact you’d taken the test too soon. But either way, he’d taken advantage of you twice, risking this twice-and you hated that you’d let him…And what you hated even more…you’d let him again..

Taglist:@hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

#jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jjsmut #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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bleaksqueak · 8 months

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I wanted to ask you a couple questions about the school structure for the Veil if you can talk about it. It seems like the academy and university are fairly closely linked but do they operate basically the same as our hs/uni do? Like picking a major/trade kind of thing. I think I saw that Audric was listed as a post grad but still a trainee so is there reaper uni classes then a sort of practicum afterwards? I hope this makes sense. I’ve tried to write this ask 5 times now

So, I spent some time rooting around my files, because a long while back I drew a map of the campus grounds for the spire...but now I can't find it, so i wonder if it's one of the unfortunate victims that got jumbled when I moved to my new machine. Ah well. But yes! They're quite literally linked, since that's why I even went looking for the file. The two campuses are side by side and share certain amenities.

so these are some super rough unfinished concept things from my files, but this ought to at least show the physical setup. There's a primary school within the spire as well. Somewhere in there. I haven't decided yet, not that it ultra matters, so let's just say it's somewhere in the middle. As for how they operate-- You got it already, more or less! The schools themselves are famous for their reaper program, having been founded by the same scholar who founded the organization itself. Of course, with Veil attuned students being one of the rarer attunements, the island's --uh, resources , to put it kindly, and the focused study needed to train those who would take on the veil's blight, the schools have a bounty of academic wealth to impart on hopeful magi graduates as well as those seeking to become eidolons. So there's several fields here that will gain a shining education in their field if they put in the hard work (... And, strangely enough, they have a pretty good classic lit department.) Using reapers as an example, the path would be as follows: Enrollment to secondary school and all basic curriculum classes as normal > attunement > undergrad prep courses for the reaper program if it's accepted (most do) > first stage of graduation undertakes the Eidolic Aperature (Uncap Ceremony, breaking the limits of magi's natural magic limit) > If successful, second stage will complete the full graduation ceremony and go on to university > training /studying intensifies, focusing more on study (the nature of liminal tears, wraith winds, corruptions, and the tools reapers operate) and choosing which field they will pursue in the program, while all are given a basic training course in specific magics and hunting techniques that ramps up until > completing the four year program, grad students engage in full trade training, working as the island's main service of hunters, scouts and sentries. Audric is currently in the final stage of this, hence the gossip quoting him as "Just a student, but practically the real deal." Primary school is fairly standard as can be, but it's a bit more fun to learn those classic subjects when you have the fun of enchanted textbooks and a kind, quirky siren for a teacher who plans fun aquatic fieldtrips. At least she tends to be everyone's favorite (She's also a grad level professor who works specifically with Aetherbiology majors and Reapers in their first years of university. She's one of Audric's favorite professors-- if not his top favorite.) Lichgate in general is something of an outlier for how its schools operate, though. It isn't exactly standard practice to smash them together at the very top of a spire, or to offer such an exacting focus from the moment of enrollment (on in some certain cases, attunement) until you've essentially gained your equivalent of a doctoral/masters. The location sitting right on the Veil's most unstable liminal tear is to thank for that-- and of course, even if you don't care as much about your education, it somehow manages to be the safest campus. As long as you follow the rules, obey curfew, don't wander off, and do exactly as your professors say during any off-spire excursions, especially.

#solivaga #asks #Sorry if this is a mess I just realized I haven't eaten and all that was on my mind while typing this was #hamburder #someday i'm giong to finish designing the spire so it's less of a hot mess #but that's the beauty of it all #the establishing shot I used of it in chapter 1 has such a forced perspective that I didn't have to have the full design ready #ha cha cha cha!#anyway most of the spire is residential/shops/safe parks and so on #the schools rest on top with a couple of auxiliary campuses on the main land of the island due to the nature of what they teach #and a few special classrooms that are housed way way deep down #at the bottom of the spire #beneath the water #that's also where the hallow's font is #anyway I want that hamburder enjoy my half-starved hopefully sensible rambling #the schools don't look exactly identical i'm just lazy and copy pasted rothsraine because I haven't designed lichgate fully yet #they're similar but not identical so use some blingee magic on it in your mindscape or smth #badabingbadaboomit'smagic #soli asks

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redstrewn · 10 months

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My MCs with other choices

Elisa, The Alchemist

- Kuras: obvious combo. Nerd to nerd communication. Nerd to nerd conversation. They look like two professors who secretly fuck but the whole campus knows.

- Vere: again shes a fucking simp and hes seggzy. She can have the longest banter volley with this guy with both their wit.

- Mhin: she will tease and dom them to oblivion until theyre just a husk of a person

- Ais: crackship. These two are like drinking bros who crack a cold one together and make stupid jokes together more than anything.

Nava, The Unnamed

- Leander: my most favorite crackship. I make memes of these two constantly. I want them to piss each other off or be so stupid at being evil together they both get owned hard.

- Vere: a combination thats absolutely on fire. The loosening of inhibitions Nava will go through? Transcendent.

- Mhin: crackship. They're so fucking awkward together. Somebody fucking help them.

- Kuras: though he reminds her of her painful past he's so comforting and she must admit fucking sexy. She can live out her dreams of fw an angel that shes secretly harbored.

Myx, The Hound

- Ais: obvious combo. The perfect brat to Ais's brat tamer desires.

- Vere: another obvious combo. She can go toe to toe with Vere's forwardness and isn't intimidated.

- Leander: she actually absolutely fucking hates this guy's guts. Reminds her of the fakes that stab people in the back she's seen way too much. Do not force her with him, she will try to kill him.

- Kuras: crackship. Crass mess of a person meets etiquette doctor. She feels awkward around him. He's probably annoyed to hell with her.

#redstrewn talks #elisa #nava #myx

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twosroos · 2 years

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TG:M gave us no background information on the pasts of anyone but rooster, so here are my ideas for just a few of the dagger squad members :)!

Phoenix

Admiral's daughter, but is mostly no contact with her family. I saw this in a fic, I cannot remember the name of for the life of me, and I love it. From the Northeast, I'm thinking like McGuire base area. Her parents were in a rocky marriage when she was kid, but eventually something clicked and they made it work. She has two older twin brothers who she talks to on occasion. She was a "teenage dirtbag" kid because her parents were super controlling, and bc of their high expectations has a gifted kid complex. She went to USMA, and met Rooster there since he had to go through college after Mav pulled his papers. They bunked a lot when they lived off campus. She has definitely dated the opposite sex before, would be open to a new relationship, but is more focused on her career.

(edit: the admiral's daughter headcanon is from Crash and Burn by ChipTheKeeper on ao3!)

Bob

Comes from a highly decorated Marine family. Did not want to go through the Marine training, so he stuck with the Navy. South Carolina family, and from a big family, but his mother was a single mom so he was an only child until he was about fourteen and his mom remarried into ANOTHER military family and had his little sister. She is his absolute favorite person, they are extremely close. He was a goody two-shoes, high achieving kid, and was actually extremely popular in school despite being super shy. He went straight through enlistment, had his papers denied, went to community college for a few years and then enlisted again and got accepted. Has little to no dating experience, but doesnt mind it at all, he's open to experimentation.

the rest are below!!

Hangman

Navy family, 100%. Big big Texan family, he has seven siblings. Eight of them, total. He's the second eldest, having one older sister, a younger sister, a set of twin brothers, and two younger sisters. His parents dote on eachother 24/7 and even though his family is full of cocky SOBs, they're all very respectful actually. He followed in his mom's footsteps with becoming a Navy Pilot. He wasn't a 'write home to mom' kid but his parents loved him. Big football guy, captain of the team his junior and senior year of highschool and got a scholarship to Navy to play, extremely popular in high school, stereotypical jock, etc etc. He met Coyote, Fanboy, an Payback in Navy. Has dated all over, has the most sexual experience out of everyone, but is hoping to settle down eventually.

Coyote

From a "serve the people" family full of EMTs, Nurses, Doctors, Teachers, Firefighters, etc. Both of his older sisters are nurses, his mom is a career firefighter and his dad is a retired doctor turned EMT. Despite growing up hearing about it, he cannot handle surgery and injuries, so he went into the Navy to also have the serving the people esc. job. Southern vibes, maybe Georgia? Not sure exactly. Growing up he was pretty outgoing, but classified as nerdy so he wasn't super popular. He played baseball and was hella good at it, but did not want to make it a career because he didn't like the fame aspect of it. He played baseball for Navy in college though, which is where he met Hangman, Fanboy and Payback. Has only dated men, unsure if he's gay or bi, doesn't really care. He's just here for a good time damnit.

Fanboy

From a business savvy 9-5 family, and he hated the way they lived. He wanted to do something different, but ended up not getting much financial help for college-- so he went through the college route, and went to Navy, which is where he actually met Payback and Coyote. He has two younger brothers who are both taking over the family business, even with that strain he's still super close to them. They try to visit him a lot because the family is from Los Angeles. Growing up he was just your average student, but a really good football player. Played with Hangman in college as a running back. Has dated a bit, but not well versed.

Payback

Washington state kid, has lived on the West Coast his whole life. Only child with mass amounts of cousins. Was very popular in school, held a lot fo parties at his house, but also wasn't dumb and made sure people were always safe. Was a band kid-- drum line, but ended up stopping Marching Band in college. Average B/C student, nothing spectacular. He's dated pretty much every type of person, but isn't really looking for much romance at the moment, though he's very spontaneous so that could always change.

#top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #robert bob floyd #bradley rooster bradshaw #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #jake hangman seresin #payback top gun #fanboy top gun

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topsyturvy-turtely · 2 years

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OTP challenge - day 12

[link to day 11]

12: having a lazy day

John had to hold back to not hop out of his class. Finally summer break! He still had to write a paper and he would only get results on the last exams in the next two weeks but for now he didn’t care. He was gonna do exactly… nothing for the rest of the day. A grin spread across his face as he thought that. Well, he would probably listen to music, read a book or watch a movie at night but... nothing that involves brainwork! He couldn’t believe he was done with his first year of his doctorate. He had done it! The first year was always hard and he knew that before, but this hard?! University made the first years most challenging so they could pick out the toughest students. John Watson was proud to say that he was ONE of those.

With a smile dancing on his lips he walked out the university building. He had originally planned to head back to his tiny apartment right away, but now that he was outside, the campus seemed surprisingly inviting. He decided to stay here for a while. He found himself a tree to sit down underneath. Then he pulled out his headphones and put his favorite rock playlist on. With a content feeling starting to spread inside of him he laid down on his backpack. This day was gonna be great!

'Sweet child o’mine' by Guns n’ Roses had just started playing when somebody suddenly stood in front of him, blocking the sun.

“…tson, right?”, he heard somebody asking. Reluctantly and a bit annoyed John took off his headphones. “Sorry?”

“You’re John Watson, right?”, a boy asked him. John didn’t see any of him, since he was standing against the sun. He only saw his silhouette: tall, slim, locks. The sun gave him something like a halo.

“Uh, yeah? Why are you asking..?”

“You left your notebook in room 404.”, the young man held it out to him. Hesitantly John stood up and took it.

“How did you know it’s mine? And how do you know me?”, John asked. His name (stupidly) wasn’t written on the notebook and- hell, he’d remember that face for sure.

The young man spluttered but looked to the side: “Come on, every body knows that new rugby player who, for once, doesn’t fucking suck.”

John frowned. “They do?”

The young man just shrugged, still avoiding eye contact.

“And how did you know this was mine?”, John held up the notebook.

The other man finally looked at him with a hint of a smile. “I deduced it.”, he simply said, then he turned around to walk away.

It took John a moment to recover. That guy’s face was- fuck. Those eyes and that almost-smile? My lazy day is gonna involve him, John thought and turned around towards the direction where the boy has disappeared.

“Wait!”, he yelled, waving his notebook in the air and started running - forgetting his backpack, phone and headphones on the ground.

He caught up to the guy. He needed a second to catch his breath (which was not only because of the running) and finally looked into the guy’s eyes.

John scratched the back of his neck. “Do you wanna- would you like to have a lazy day with me?”

The guy just stared down at him. Then John almost facepalmed ‘have a lazy day with him’??? What the actual fuck?!

“You know, this semester was really stressful and I planned on just having the laziest day in the history of lazy days, because I didn’t have a lazy day since what? Three? Four? Months? And I would still like to have a lazy day… but maybe with you? Not that it would be boring. With you I mean. Boring doesn’t equal lazy. Oh my god, how often did I just say lazy? Quite often I think. Too often probably. Am I talking too much? I am talking too much. My god, I am so sorry…”

The boy finally opened his mouth, then he looked away while clearing his throat. Finally he opened his mouth: “I… don’t really do lazy days.”

“Oh.”, John said. He doesn’t wanna hang out with you, Watson. You’re being a mess and obvious and now he doesn’t wanna hang out with you. Well done. “Then… I guess… never mind. I’ll just- you know- okay have a lazy day! Good day! Good day, I mean. Damnit.” John turned around and tried to flee from this very awkward situation.

“But I- wait! John!”, the man had grabbed John’s arm. “I- spending the day with you sounds great.”, he said.

“Oh- really? Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t wanna. Obviously. No pressure, of course-“

The young man chuckled softly. John immediately stopped talking. “Why are you laughing?”

“I just thought-”, the mysterious man walked backwards towards John’s stuff, facing him. “-John H. Watson, doctor to be and future rugby-captain, wouldn’t be that flustered by asking a boy out.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t ask you out! I just wanted to spend a lazy day with you!”

“Uh-huh. Sounds like a very bisexual thing to say to me.”, the young man smirked, and turned around walking just a step in front of John.

“Woah… I am not- What do you mean by- Jesus Christ! How could you POSSIBLY know that!”

“I deduced it.”, the man said, looked back and John saw that this (decisively too good-looking) smirk has never left those (decisively too inviting) lips.

“What does that even mean? And can you not spread out all my secrets while I don’t even know your freaking name, please?!”

“The name is Sherlock Holmes. Do catch up, hm? I know a good Italian place where we could-”

“Sherlock Hol- yeah, hold on one second.”, John stopped walking and pulled Sherlock back by his hand. “It’s my lazy day. You are just bonus material. I’m gonna decide where we are going.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. “Did you just call me bonus material?”

“Yes, I did.”

Sherlock playfully gasped: “How dare you.”

John smirked. “I am a sass king. I kinda do things like that.”, now it was his turn to turn around and walk off.

Sherlock snorted: “Yeah, unless you’re asking boys out.”, he called out.

“Shut up and come already, will you?”, John replied.

Sherlock caught up with John, then they walked off the university campus to spend a lazy day together. And it was gonna be the best lazy day in the history of lazy days, John thought.

---

does this suck as much as I think it does? ohmyturtle... (i'll maaybe write their actual lazy day another time. but i wanted to get this out there...)

Tagging poeple yyaaayyy (tell me if you wanna be added or removed) @helloliriels @justanobsessedpan @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @toobluebrunette

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cosmik-homo · 10 months

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I am back again with doctor who lore! Apperently as a prommotion for new-who, the BBC ran a real equivalent website of the site rose finds in "Rose"- "Have You Seen This Man?"- where users, both fake and real (it allowed you to submit entries, but was moderated) described footage they found of the ninth doctor or meeting they had with him.

Here is an example page on the wayback machine, here are all the entries and images in TARDIS Wiki, and here are some of my personal favorites from what I read so far (I'm at around 50 out of 138, stopped to make the post) :

[ID: a row of a chart, number row 13, with a username "gpw", and text reading: "GPW recalls that the Doctor found their two kids in Castleton in the Peak District after they went missing. When they returned, GPW's kids knew "silly stories about lizard people"." /End ID]

[ID: entries 28, 29, and 30. transcribed: "28: j q public: j q public saw the Ninth Doctor arguing with a little man with an umbrella on a university campus." (the phrase "little man etc" is linked to seventh doctor page). " 29: Chris Martin: Chris saw the Doctor get kicked off a train as his season ticket was not valid until 2009." "30: WillH: WillH saw the Doctor in a book of photographs of Queen Victoria in a local library, noting that there were not many people in the 19th century who wore leather jackets." /End ID]

[ID: entries 4 and 5; "4: Geoff Cliff: Geoff was in HMV "last Tuesday" and was asked for advice by the Doctor, who was looking at the drum and bass CDs. Geoff Recommended Ultra by Depeche Mode." "5: r williams: In B&Q, r williams saw the Doctor buy a tin of cosmos blue paint and ask the assistant for the over 65s 10% discount. When asked his age, the Doctor decided against saying and paid for the paint." /End ID]

[ID: entry 39: "H. J. Hardeman: H.J. Hardman saw the Doctor at an Oxfam in Sheffield a year ago, where he tries to swap "Edwardian gear" for a pair of jeans and trainers." /End Id]

[ID: entry 46. "Peri Brown: Peri met the Doctor once, but never saw him again, She is interested in getting back in touch." /End ID] there are soo many more awesome ones, and im barely halfway through. give em a read!

#doctor who #tardiswiki diving is my thing ig #idk i didnt expect the nelvana pictures to get attention so

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happypopcornprincess · 1 year

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The Heartbreak Prince - Chapter Two

Warnings: Major Spoilers for Top Gun (1986) and Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

A/N - I had to do a literal ton of research for this one, and you can check on google maps that the campus of UC San Diego is a lot closer to Miramar than you might think, even I was shocked. A marvel easter egg if you squint. featuring a very awkward ex-best friend's meeting.

Italics are thoughts and/or emphasized words

Taglist is open and feels free to request headcanons or drabbles on this series

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Present Day

“Hey.” Nisha step forward, donning the same smile that was once Bradley’s favorite thing about her. The way her eyes wrinkled and her nose scrunched, he was always enamored by it.

Can someone’s smile get better with age?

“What- hey!” he practically ran to her, opening his arms to engulf her in a hug at the same time she extended her hand.

He stopped.

He extended his hand to shake hers then, but this time she opened her arms to hug him. They stared at each other, realizing how awkward it was between them after so many years. Bradley retreated his hand and shoved them into the pockets of his khakis. Nisha nodded once and held her cart.

Bradley took his time to look at her. She wore a maroon shirt and black pants. Her hair was loose, falling elegantly on her shoulders, once reaching her waist, but now just above her elbows.

“You finally grew the mustache.” she smiles, pointing at his face.

“Yeah, I did.” He laughed.

Silence fell between them, Nisha subconsciously rolling the shopping cart.

“Okay, I'm just gonna to say this, what are you doing here?” Bradley asks, the question nagging him at the back of his head for quite a while.

“I’m a professor at UC San Diego, I got a transfer from LA.” she nods.

Bradley’s eyes rose up, “wait, so that means…”

“Dr. Bagchi. She points at herself and says, "Doctorate in Physics."

Bradley’s jaw dropped.

The conversations of their youth played inside his head, how Nisha was dead set on getting the highest grades, the best scores in every single subject. How she could solve lengthy equations in seconds, the piles of books and test papers her room would overflow with. He realized Nisha understood the biggest life lesson first; respect isn't given, it's earned.

“Nisha! I’m so proud of you!” he held his head with both his hands, in awe of his best friend accomplishing her dream. He could just imagine how hard she had to work to get to this point in her life.

Can he still call her that? After years of not exchanging words.

“Thank you. Seeing as you're in fighter town, you're now an aviator?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and cocking her head to the side.

“Yeah, I’ve been flying for 12 years now, give or take.”

"That’s… a lot of jet fuel.”

Bradley rolls his eyes, which in turn makes her grimace, “that was, very lame. I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I did use a lot of jet fuel, you know,” he smiles.

The sound of his ringtone fills the air as he pulls it out of his phone, Amelia’s name flashing on it.

“Just, gimme a second…” he says, and picks it up.

“Hey, there brad brad.”

“Hello,” he answers unamused.

“Just want to say I’m waiting for whatever 80s monstrosity you’re about to show me, and also for my popcorn.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there, just ran into an old friend.”

"Oooh, old girlfriend? Is she hot?”

Bradley turned red, “I’ll be there Amy. Try not to burn the house down.”

He turns to Nisha, “sorry, it’s just Amelia, we’re having a movie night…”

"Who?” she asks him confused. He then realised she had no idea what a roller coaster ride the past few months have been.

How would she? It's not like you talked to her about it, or anything, for years Bradley.

“She’s Penny’s daughter. Mav’s wife.”

“Maverick got married!” her eyes blew wide in shock.

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

—/—/—

There was no way Bradley was gonna let go of Nisha when she insisted on calling an uber. Therefore, he just grabbed her groceries and shoved them in his bronco. Nisha had no choice but to follow. As they drove towards Nisha’s house, Bradley caught her up in the whirlwind of plot twists that happened in the past few months.

“...and now Pete and Penny are in Hawaii and Amelia is making my life difficult.”

She squints her eyes at him, “Wait, so, Pete has been living in a hangar all this time?”

“I told you all this and that’s what you ask me?” he laughed out loud.

Nisha looks at Bradley sitting in the passenger seat of his bronco. This brought back memories of how she used to open the window and stick her head out when Bradley would drive on deserted roads. Also, that one time when they spilled milkshakes all over the front and Carole made them clean it in the driveway. He had grown into his features, a darker tan, and a 70s mustache that suited him way more than it should have. Those eyes were just as sweet and bright as they've always been.

We used to laugh until our stomachs hurt.

Her eyes met his and she snapped out, “Enough about me, what about you?” he asked, leaning back in his seat.

“It’s going well. San Diego is an absolute dream. The campus is much more lively than LA, and the people are amazing! Bradley, you have to visit the campus.”

“Of course I will visit!" he exclaims, “Do I have to call you Doctor when I’m there? Or is it reserved for the kids you teach?”

“I don't know, do I have to call you Lieutenant? Or is it reserved for your girl?” Nisha scoffs as Bradley turns red, letting out a chuckle. "Yeah... I don’t have anyone. Too busy with the Navy.”

“Oh shut up! I bet the girls here would be throwing themselves at you any chance they get.”

“They do that because they want one night with a pilot, to tell tales of how they once hooked up with the hot pilot guy from fighter town. I learned my lesson watching Jake.”

“Hmm,” she says, drumming her fingers on the dashboard, resisting the urge to mention Elena, the old ex.

“You got anyone?" he asks as he slows down the jeep nearing the location.

"I did," Nisha says, fidgeting with her fingers. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, he was definitely not expecting this, “What happened?”

“That,” she takes a deep breath, “is a story for another time.” she looks at him and purses her lips, giving a sad smile.

Bradley stops the jeep in front of a small suburban-styled house, complete with a frontal porch and the side door indicating a backyard. It was somewhat similar to her parents' house in Virginia, but that had a wrap-around porch and a swing in the front.

“I have an early lecture tomorrow, got to be there at nine,” she says, as she collects her things, Bradley gets out and helps her with the bags.

“ I’d have dropped you at the campus, but I have to report at the base at 7.”

“It’s fine, thank you sunny.” she squeezes his arm, taking the groceries from him.

“Well, I'll call you, let’s hang out when you’re free.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, ignoring the jump that his heart did at the moment, watching her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I, uh, changed my number.” she shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh, okay then, you’re on my Facebook. I’ll see you there,” he replies.

“You’re still on Facebook?” Nisha chuckles.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?" he furrows his brows, offended.

“Believe me, I got the same question from my class. Everyone’s abandoned the app that started it all!” she backtracks, spreading her hands. She turns to the house, waving back at him, “Bye sunny!”

“See you Pun- uh- see ya,” he shouts, closing his eyes as he almost called her punk.

What the fuck was I thinking?

—/—/—

Nisha rested her head on the door once she was inside. It was spinning from whatever had happened in the past few minutes.

Bradley Bradshaw.

The first guy to sweep her off her feet, who didn’t even know it.

It's always the unrequited ones that hurt the most, isn't it?

Flashes of her past flood her mind, how she would always save his seat during classes, how she would make sure to attend all his games and help him with academics. And him holding onto her hand as they walked, pinching her cheeks during arguments, and lifting her off her feet every time he hugged her, all of his acts that never failed to make her heart race faster.

Without realizing it, their innocent glances and stupid conversations turned into more. She had fallen for him, unapologetically. His smile, his laughter, the way he held her hand, his eyes, his hugs that always felt so full.

Nisha loved him too much, the amount that you couldn’t handle at seventeen.

And Bradley never saw it.

Some part of Nisha knew she will always be his best friend, his punk, but she still waited for that moment when he would see her more than that. In fact, she almost told him on their last night together, and she would often debate whether he would have stayed if she told him.

“Who was that?" The silky voice of Nisha’s friend filled the air, as Erin walked into the living room carrying a box full of doughnuts.

"Bradley Bradshaw,” Nisha replies

Erin gasped loudly and he would have tripped off the box of doughnuts but caught it just in time. "The Bradley Bradshaw!" He practically ran to the front door to catch a glimpse, but he had already left.

“Do you know him?” Nisha asks.

“Do I know him? Girl, the entire town knows him! You were not present at The Hard Deck when he sang that oldie song, had the whole bar on their feet! And he looks like that!" he says, pointing in the general direction where his bronco went.

“Let me guess, it was Great Balls Of Fire.”

“Yes! How do you know that?”

“We were friends in high school,” she says as she takes the groceries to the kitchen.

"Oooh, did you ever hook up? Because I would have if I were you. Oh my god, is he hot now or was he the same back then? Like, on a scale of Zac Effron to Chris Evans.”

“Erin,” she looks at him, crooking her head to the side and giving him a look. He was years younger than her, but he knew exactly what was going on by the look on her face.

“Oh honey,” his smile disappears, “you never told him, did you?”

Nisha takes a deep breath, “It was a long time ago, plus he had someone back then.”

"Nishiii…” he rushes to her and gives her a sideways hug, “it’s gonna be okay honey. I will plot you against each other like the fucking Parent Trap.”

“Erin,” she looks at him, “I don’t… want that. Bad things happen when I fall for someone, and you know it.”

Erin rubs her arm, hugging her tighter. "You say that because you haven’t found the right person yet. When you do, it will feel like you’re at peace, you know. You don’t question yourself, or anything, your inner self knows that it’s true.” he gives her a squeeze and let go, “now,” he straightens up, “I want you to go pick a book, and read it. I’ll make the dinner, and then we’ll have a sleepover.”

“We literally live together!”

“We’re crashing on the couch then, I won’t take a no. Now moooove!" He practically shoved her into her bedroom and Nisha silently thanked the higher power for having friends like Erin. Who annoys the shit out of her, but also has the purest of hearts out there.

—/—/—

Bradley did not protest when Amelia put on some superhero movie instead of Goonies and was fawning over the guy with the metal arm. He let her eat all the popcorn and the chips, leaving the soda, and was zoned out the entire duration of the movie.

His mind reverted back to Nisha's smile. It felt exactly the same, but years in his profession made him question it. He felt like there was something else. A sort of darkness hung over her features. She had grown into a capable and intelligent person. Despite being only a year younger than him, she seemed more mature, more elegant than him. She was more reserved than before, and she kept fidgeting with her hands a lot.

Holy Shit.

Amelia was startled by the sudden movement as Bradley sits up in sudden realization.

Nisha had a lighter tan on the ring finger of her left hand, reminiscent of a ring.

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A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Any and all requests, headcanons, and drabble requests about this AU is mostly welcome. Love y'all, Take Care!

Requests are open! Feel free to request anything.

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