#Please they're probably planning something for the next chapter

[pikozry]

Guys AidaIro's been really quiet lately, should we be worried

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 24

⋆｡°✩ mirrors ✩°｡⋆

"When you're dealing with Jason, who talks about literature like it matters and opens car doors, the friendship bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that's messier, pettier, still half-formed."

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⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8k

content: coffee dates with intelectual men (jason derulooooo), friendship bracelet anxiety, protective!yoongi, mia aftermath discussions, tessa planning

✧ author's note ✧

Okay. Before you all start side-eyeing Jason for breathing, let's set something straight—you're biased. And you're totally valid for that.

This is a Jungkook x Reader fanfic. Obviously, we're all rooting for the emotionally constipated trauma boy who talks with his eyes and stores all his feelings behind gym towels and granola bars. I get it. I'm rooting for him too. But Jason is not here to steal your man. He's here to teach. To nudge. To trigger reflection. He's not necessarily here to stay—but he is important. For Y/N. For her growth. For us to see what it looks like when she's treated decently on surface level, so we can question what actually feels good, and what merely feels safe.

Jason, like every man I write, is not perfect. (You'd think I'd spare at least one of them but alas, I'm God here and a mean one.) Y/N is looking at him through rose-colored glasses—yes, that's intentional. But this is not your cue to dissect him like a frog and declare "something about him rubs me wrong, Kiki please kill him." Let's calm down, Hannibal. Not every man who isn't Jungkook is a villain in this story.

And speaking of bias—let's talk about Y/N. I want to gently remind you all: this story is told through her perspective. That means the narration is not omniscient. It's filtered through a lens of impulsivity, self-sabotage, and defense mechanisms. She's in her 20s and emotionally immature in ways that mirror her environment, her upbringing, her trauma. So yes—you'll read lines where she praises Jason and drags Jungkook through the mud like he owes her money. That's part of her architecture. Not mine. I don't write self-insert. I write character. And Y/N is doing what a lot of us do—projecting simplicity onto what's new and shiny, and demonizing what's familiar and complicated.

Because when you're operating from trauma, you fixate on the flaws that allow you to detach. On the safe narrative. Jungkook is socks on the couch. Jungkook is dumb. Jungkook is the roommate who yells too loudly when he's playing CoD. Not Jungkook who didn't burst into his bedroom during her panic attack because he knew she wouldn't want to be seen. Not Jungkook who's messy, perhaps not attentive when it comes to mugs in the sink—but attentive in the things that matter.

So yes. Y/N is unfair toward Jungkook in this chapter. And Jungkook is unfair toward her, too. And they will keep on being unfair and you'll want to scream and you'll say 'they're stupid' and yes they are. That's the point. That's humanity. That's how we cope—through flawed logic and messy defenses. It's ugly and real and mine.

Tessa. Let's go there. I've said it before, but I'll reiterate it loud enough for the back rows: Tessa is not the villain. She's not here to be the hot girl we all collectively throw into a fictional toilet. She's kind. She's respectful. She shares common interests with Jungkook. She's doing her thing. And that's exactly why she throws Y/N off. Because it would be easier to hate her if she were rude. If she were smug. But she's not. And that's the dissonance. That's the discomfort. Tessa would probably be a friend if the circumstances were different. But she's not. She's interested in Jungkook. And Y/N is sleeping with Jungkook. So while jealousy isn't the correct word, there's still that… gut feeling. That primal "mine" that you don't have to be in love to feel. Especially when someone's the only person who's ever made you feel wanted and safe in your body. (She did say he knows where the clit is. Let's not forget that.)

And Jungkook—again, for all his confusion and emotional hoarding—does not make fun of her for liking things. He forces her to confront her wants, to allow herself to enjoy things without guilt. Encourages them. Creates space for them. And she doesn't consciously realize that. But subconsciously? It's why she's defensive. Why she's scared of losing it.

Last thing I'll touch on: Yoongi. Because I love the way he shows up here—not loud, not meddling, but present. I made a point of explaining his schedule (beyond just plot convenience lmao) because I think it's important to portray him realistically. He's a producer. He's constantly working. And yet, when he is home, he doesn't overstep. He doesn't offer gossip. He doesn't reveal Jungkook's mess. He respects Jungkook's boundaries. He gives Y/N a branch. A little nudge. And if you know Yoongi, you know that's massive. That's someone who sees pain but respects the privacy of it. That's how love shows up in quiet friendships.

So yeah. That's Chapter 24. Not a love story. Not yet. It's a story about mirrors. About coping. About not knowing what you want until someone else tries to hand it to you, and you flinch.

Enjoy Jason while he's here. He's the first of some.

Now go read. Come back messy.

Love, Kiki (who writes enemies-to-lovers and then gets mad when they don't like each other yet) (ಥ﹏ಥ)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Turns out seventy-something grandmothers also read vampire and werewolf books. 

Sunday shifts at Barnes & Noble are usually dead—just you, the books, and the occasional lost tourist looking for the bathroom. 

But today feels off-kilter, like everything's been shifted two inches to the left. 

You keep catching yourself touching the bracelet on your wrist, the beads spelling "ROGUE" pressed against your skin, a constant reminder of last night's decisions.

You still haven't taken it off. Haven't even considered it, really, which is weird because it's just a stupid tacky bracelet. Wearing it shouldn't mean anything. It's not like you and Jungkook are actually friends.

Are you?

…No. Definitely not. Just roommates who occasionally don't want to murder each other. Roommates who sometimes have really good sex. Roommates who made matching bracelets in a moment of insanity.

Fuck, that does sound like friendship.

"Excuse me, dear?"

The voice pulls you from your spiral, and you realize you've been staring at the same page of inventory for at least two minutes. 

The woman standing at your register is tiny, maybe five feet tall on a good day, with perfectly coiffed silver hair and pearl earrings that are definitely not fake.

"Sorry," you mutter, quickly scanning the five hardcover books she's placed on the counter. The entire Twilight saga, special edition with gold-edged pages. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Oh yes, thank you," she says, pulling out a wallet that looks expensive in that understated way rich people prefer. "My book club is doing a throwback month. We're revisiting our guilty pleasures."

You nod absently, focusing on bagging the books without making eye contact. Just get through this transaction and then you can go back to questioning your life choices in peace.

"So," she says as you process her credit card, "Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"I'm sorry?"

"The eternal question," she says with a wink. "Which supernatural suitor would you choose? The brooding vampire or the hot-headed werewolf?"

Is this happening? Is this actually happening right now? 

You stare at her, completely dumbfounded. 

She's got to be at least seventy, wearing a cashmere cardigan and sensible heels, asking you about fictional teen heart-throbs like you're at a middle school sleepover.

You open your mouth to give some non-committal answer, but then you remember Dora from the laundry room. How quickly you'd dismissed her as a cranky old lady, only to discover she was just a widow feeling lonely. 

Maybe this woman is the same—just looking for a moment of connection in her day.

"I'm honestly Team Alice," you say, surprising yourself with the genuine smile that forms. "She was probably a better choice than either of those two drama queens."

The woman's face lights up with delight. 

"Oh! Bold choice. I like that." She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I'm Team Edward, myself. I guess I like old men after all."

A startled laugh escapes before you can stop it. "He is like a hundred years old in a teenager's body. Very problematic."

"Precisely why it's a guilty pleasure, my dear," she says, accepting the bag you hand her. "The best kind of fiction lets us enjoy things we'd find appalling in real life."

There's something weirdly profound about that statement coming from a pearl-wearing grandmother buying vampire romance novels on a Sunday afternoon.

"Enjoy your book club," you say, meaning it.

"I will. And you enjoy whatever team you're on," she replies with a wink, nodding toward your wrist where the friendship bracelet sits.

Before you can respond, she's walking away, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. 

You stare after her, feeling like you've just had some kind of surreal encounter with a Twilight-loving fairy godmother.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur of restocking shelves and helping lost customers find the bathroom. 

By the time you clock out, the Twilight grandma feels like a fever dream—something your brain made up to break the monotony. But the conversation stays with you, an unexpected bright spot in an otherwise tedious day.

You're still thinking about it when you unlock the apartment door three hours later.

"Hello?" you call out, dropping your keys on the entry table with a clatter.

Nothing.

The apartment is empty, the silence confirming what you already knew—you've got the place to yourself. 

No Yoongi with his silent judgment. No Griffin with his judgmental silence. And no Jungkook with his... 

…

Whatever.

You check your phone. 

An hour and a half until you're supposed to meet Jason for coffee. 

Plenty of time to shower away the retail grime and maybe even put on something that doesn't scream ‘I've been folding books for eight hours.’

As if sensing your thoughts, your phone pings with a text.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 4? 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙? 

You bite back a smile. 

He's offering to pick you up? So he remembers where he dropped you off that one time after class? 

That's... actually kind of sweet. A guy who actually pays attention to details.

It's refreshing after dealing with Jungkook, who once put an empty milk carton back in the fridge and claimed he ‘didn't notice’ it was empty. Like someone just happened to drink all the milk and then carefully put the empty container back exactly where they found it. 

Idiot.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜! 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝟺 ❤️

You don’t know why you’re using proper caps now, or why you add the heart emoji. It’s all without thinking, and you stare at it for a solid five seconds wondering if it's too much. 

But it's already sent, and honestly, it's just an emoji. Not like you're proposing marriage.

As you scroll back through your messages, another unread text catches your eye. From last night. When your phone pinged during the bracelet exchange with Jungkook.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎? 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 �� 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎! 🥰

Oh.

Oh right.

Tessa from last night. The literal goddess with perfect hair who wanted your advice about dating Jungkook. The girl you told to go for it because, why not? He could do a lot worse than someone genuinely nice and put-together. 

You stare at the text for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say to that. Because it’s weird. It feels weird.

No, the weird feeling is probably just that you're not sure you want to get involved in Jungkook's love life. It's one thing to suggest Tessa make a move, but playing matchmaker? Giving ongoing advice? That's crossing into territory that feels uncomfortably personal.

Plus, you're kind of sleeping with him. Would be weird to help another girl date your fuck buddy. Not because you care who else he sleeps with—you don't. Obviously. But it would just be... awkward.

And what would you even say? ‘Hey Tessa, here's how to seduce my roommate: play hard to get, argue with him constantly, then jump his bones when he least expects it. Works for me!’

Yeah, no.

You set your phone down without replying. You'll deal with Tessa later. After your coffee with Jason. After you've had a shower and maybe some time to think about how to navigate this bizarre social situation you've somehow landed in.

As you head to the bathroom, you catch your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look tired, a little rumpled from your shift, but not terrible. Your eyes drift down to the colorful beads circling your wrist. ROGUE, spelled out in childish letter beads. 

You could take it off. Probably should, honestly. It's not like you're twelve, wearing friendship bracelets with your BFF.

But your fingers don't move toward the clasp. 

Instead, you just turn away from the mirror and continue toward the bathroom.

It's just a bracelet. It doesn't mean anything.

You'll take it off tomorrow.

Funny how a look can make you remember what it’s like to feel beautiful.

Jason’s car is clean. Not serial killer clean, but neat in a way that feels vaguely impressive for a guy who’s in grad school and not living off a diet of ramen and emotional repression. 

When you slide into the passenger seat, your dress rides up just a little, and you catch him glance—brief, polite, but definitely there. 

You don’t blame him. You look good.

Hair curled. Lip gloss strawberry-slick. Earrings you almost forgot you owned. The black dress is simple but it fits just right, hugging the curve of your waist like it was designed to hold you together when you forget how. 

You’d like to pretend you don’t care what Jason thinks, but you shaved above the knee and sprayed perfume behind your knees, so.

He smiles when he sees you, soft and almost surprised. “Hey. Wow.”

‘Wow’. Not ‘you look nice’, not ‘I like your dress’. 

Just wow, like he wasn’t prepared for this version of you.

Like he’s seeing you, not the outfit.

You kind of love that.

“Hey yourself.” 

You buckle in and feel the nerves pull tighter in your chest. You’re not used to being nervous anymore. You’ve fucked your way through worse situations than this. 

But this isn’t sex. This is coffee. 

Somehow infinitely more exposing.

The drive is short, music low—Jason puts on some indie playlist that’s equal parts folky and hipster, and you catch lyrics about moons and bones and the way someone smells in spring. He doesn’t talk much on the way, but it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Thoughtful. There’s a kind of comfort in that, in not having to fill every second with chatter.

When you arrive, you wonder if you’ve accidentally agreed to a second location with a man who might bankrupt you. 

Because this coffee shop? It is sleek and minimalist, all marble tables and matte-black finishes, the kind of place where the baristas wear aprons and pour water like they’re performing surgery.

And holy shit, it smells amazing. Not in the burnt hazelnut way you’re used to from campus cafés, but rich, deep—vanilla and cinnamon and fresh grounds that probably cost more per ounce than your soul.

Jason holds the door open for you. Doesn’t make a big deal of it. Just does it like it’s second nature. And okay, fine, you notice that. You’re not made of stone.

You order the strawberry latte on a whim, mostly because the flavor name makes you smile—‘blushberry blossom’ (c’mon that’s such a cute name)—and partly because the idea of something pink and ridiculous feels like rebellion in a place this serious. Jason, for his part, gets a cortado.

You sit by the window, where light slants in gold and sharp across the marble, catching on the rim of your cup and your collarbone. 

Here, the world outside feels very far away—no Griffin knocking shit over, no roommates stomping around the apartment like emotional hurricanes. Just soft jazz and clinking spoons and the man across from you who keeps doing this thing where he leans in slightly when you talk, like he doesn’t want to miss anything you say.

“You really think that about Bishop?” he asks, eyebrows up.

You nod. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not that I think she hated women, but there’s definitely an internalized thing going on in the way she writes about domesticity. Like she’s performing detachment because that’s the only way to survive inside it.”

Jason exhales, a quiet sound of admiration. “That’s really smart.”

You shrug, suddenly a little too warm. 

Compliments on your appearance are easy to swat away. 

This kind—the you’re actually intelligent and I’m listening to you kind—sticks in your chest like static.

Your latte arrives, delicate as hell. Pale pink with foamy swirls and a single edible flower floating on top. Instagram bait. You take a sip, expecting something syrupy and fake, but it’s…

Huh.

You pause. Purse your lips. The taste is sweet, but not in a candy way. More like… too smooth. Like it’s missing bitterness. But it’s fine. Just—off, somehow. 

Not bad, just… not what you were expecting. 

You take another sip.

Still weird. Still fine.

You say nothing. Just keep talking, keep leaning into the conversation, because Jason’s eyes are lit up and he’s asking you questions like he actually cares about the answers.

You talk about poetry, about undergrad nonsense, about that one professor who only teaches in metaphors and might actually be a tree in disguise. Jason laughs at your jokes and adds his own and it’s easy. Like, actually easy. Like your brain isn’t doing somersaults trying to predict the next emotional landmine.

Halfway through the drink, he glances down at your wrist and tilts his head.

“Is that… a friendship bracelet?”

You glance at it before you remember it’s there. 

Your hand had been resting on the table, fingers curled lightly around your cup, the ROGUE beads facing up like they want to be seen.

Shit.

You forgot you were still wearing it. In fact, haven’t you been wearing it all day? All shift. Through your shower. Through putting on perfume. Through curling your hair. Through walking out the door knowing someone might see it.

You pull your wrist back instinctively. Not fast enough to be defensive, just enough to make it clear you hadn’t meant for it to be a conversation piece.

Jason doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Just raises his eyebrows, curious but not unkind.

“Oh,” you say, pretending it’s nothing. “Yeah. It’s—stupid. A joke, kind of.”

Jason’s brow furrows. “No, it’s cool. I mean, it’s cute. Just wasn’t expecting that from you.”

You laugh, a little too fast. “Yeah, me neither.”

“It’s not a bad look,” he offers. “Very… I don’t know. Vintage, maybe?”

He says it in the tone of someone trying to offer reassurance, not judgment. 

And that’s the thing, because he hasn’t said anything bad about it. 

It’s you. 

You feel it. That quiet little itch of self-consciousness blooming under your skin. 

And suddenly you are twelve years old, and someone just caught you doodling hearts in your notebook. 

You feel… silly.

Not because it’s a dumb bracelet—it is—but because it’s on your wrist in this place, with this person. 

With Jason, who talks about literature like it matters, who picked you up on time, who smells like sandalwood and books, who looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your mouth.

The bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that’s messier, pettier, still half-formed. The version that knocks Jungkook’s protein powder off the counter just to watch him flinch. The one who keeps secrets in locked journals under the bed.

You press your wrist lightly against your thigh under the table, hiding it without really hiding it. Jason doesn’t press. He just sips his coffee and asks what you think about Rainer Maria Rilke.

You tell him. You talk about how Letters to a Young Poet changed the way you understood loneliness. About how writing doesn’t have to be for anyone else. About how maybe there’s something holy about solitude when it’s chosen.

He listens like the world’s on mute.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe the things you’re saying. Maybe you start to feel like someone worth listening to.

“You should read this essay by Gilbert and Gubar,” he says, pulling out his phone to make a note. “I’ll send you the link. It’s about the madwoman in the attic as a feminist symbol. Might give you some interesting perspectives.”

“That would be great,” you say, soft smile tugging at your lips. 

It’s been ages since you’ve had a conversation like this—someone who not only gets your academic interests but actively engages with them.

“You’re really smart, you know that?” he says suddenly, setting down his mug. “Like, genuinely insightful. You should consider applying to graduate programs.”

The compliment catches you off guard, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“I’ve thought about it,” you admit. “But it’s competitive. And expensive.”

“True,” he nods. “But there are fellowships. And based on what I’ve heard from you in class and now, I think you’d have a shot.”

You take another sip of your too-sweet latte to hide how pleased you are. It’s not that you need validation, but… okay, maybe you do, a little. Who doesn’t?

“I could help you look into programs, if you want,” he offers. “No pressure, just… I know the landscape pretty well.”

“That would be amazing, actually,” you say, meaning it.

By the time you’ve both finished your drinks, the afternoon light has shifted. You’ve been talking for over two hours, and it’s only when you check your phone that you realize how much time has passed.

“I should probably get you home,” Jason says, checking his watch reluctantly. “I’ve got a stack of papers to grade before tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, equally reluctant to end the afternoon. “Teaching assistant duties call.”

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, then brightens. “But I’d love to do this again. Maybe dinner next time?”

“I’d like that,” you say, and you really would.

After 10 minutes in his car, you think he’s turning toward your apartment. 

You’re wrong.

Jason’s blinker flicks left instead of right, merging smoothly into traffic like this isn’t a diversion. Like it’s part of the plan.

You glance over, raising an eyebrow. “Um. Home’s the other way.”

He smiles, eyes still on the road. “I know. I wanted to show you something first.”

Your chest flutters—nothing dramatic, just a soft little hum, like the opening notes of a song you don’t recognize but already like. You sink back into the seat and let yourself be curious.

The drive winds west, toward the river, buildings falling away into stretches of old brick warehouses and glass condo towers that look like they belong in an entirely different version of your life. One where you probably own a milk frother and know what saffron tastes like.

Jason doesn’t say much, just tunes the radio to some local jazz station and hums softly along. The golden hour light cuts sideways through the windshield, warm and syrupy, painting the world in blush and amber.

He pulls over near a quiet overlook, where the road widens into a shoulder and the guardrail curls just enough to frame the view. The Hudson stretches wide in front of you, molasses-slow and glittering under a sky that’s all pinks and orange melt, the kind of sunset you always say you’ll watch more often but never do.

He doesn’t make it a thing. Just kills the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and nods toward the passenger side.

“Come on.”

You follow, caught in that half-stunned, half-swoony state that makes your steps feel floaty. 

The air outside is cooler than you expect, touched with that river dampness that curls around your ankles and lifts the hair on your arms. The water looks like glass, rippling only when the wind brushes across it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, stepping closer to the edge. 

The view is stupid. Like, actually unfair. The sky’s a cliché in real time—cotton candy pink and tangerine and just the faintest smear of lavender toward the edges. 

You pull out your phone without thinking, framing the scene like muscle memory.

One shot.

Then another.

Then one with your shoulder in the corner, just to prove you were here.

Jason stands a little off to the side, hands in the pockets of his coat. 

He’s not watching the view—he’s watching you look at the view, which somehow makes it feel even more unreal.

“I didn’t want the date to end in a parking lot,” he says quietly.

You smile down at your phone, thumbs already moving. You pick the best one, swipe through a filter, drop the saturation just a little. Caption: this sky is a lie and I’m letting it.

You post without thinking. It’s just a sunset. It’s just a moment. But it feels worth remembering.

A notification pops up a few seconds later. Like.

Then another.

Then—

35mmghost liked your photo.

You blink.

Snort.

Okay. What?

You don’t say anything, just stare at the name for a beat longer than necessary. 

35mmghost. 

That is… not what you expected Jason’s Instagram handle to be. If it is Jason’s. Which would be hilarious. And weirdly endearing.

You flick a glance toward him. He’s smiling to you, with his phone between his fingers. Like you just caught him.

He just pockets it and gazes out at the river like he’s trying to memorize it. 

You file it away. Not important. Probably. Just… cute.

Jason, apparently, has a secret artsy side. 

And a dramatic username.

Ghost, really?

You like it. Quietly. Silently. The same way he let you have the view.

He doesn’t know you noticed. Doesn’t try to impress you with it.

And for once, you don’t overanalyze. You just let yourself stand there, cheeks a little pink from the wind and the compliment still buzzing somewhere behind your ribs, watching the sky slide into dusk like it’s not even trying to be beautiful.

Like it just is.

When he finally drives you home, you find yourself feeling lighter than you have in weeks. 

There’s something refreshingly straightforward about Jason. 

No games, no cryptic comments, no emotional whiplash. 

Just a smart, mature guy who seems genuinely interested in you.

When he pulls up to your building, he gets out to open your door again—which still feels like something from a movie rather than real life.

“Thanks for today,” you say, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. 

Is this the part where you kiss? You’re not sure what the protocol is here.

Jason solves the dilemma with a warm smile and a slight step back—respecting your space in that careful way that somehow makes him even more attractive.

"Thank you for making my Sunday exponentially better," he says.

It's such a nerdy, earnest thing to say that you can't help but smile. 

"Exponentially, huh?"

"At least by a factor of ten," he confirms with a grin. "I'll text you about dinner?"

"Sounds good."

You watch him drive away, a pleasant buzz of anticipation tingling in your chest about seeing him again. 

For once, your love life seems straightforward and uncomplicated. 

A mature guy who's exactly what he appears to be. What a fucking novelty.

When you finally make it upstairs, the apartment is still quiet. Still empty. 

You kick your shoes off at the door and shrug off your coat, fingers catching on the thin leather strap of your bag. You leave it on the couch and walk straight to your room, not bothering to turn on any lights. 

There’s enough spill from the windows to see by—blue-gray and soft, the city humming faint in the background like a lullaby that never really ends.

You catch your reflection in the mirror again. 

Dress still hugging you right, lip gloss faded but not completely gone. Your cheeks are flushed in that way that feels natural, earned. 

You look good. You feel good.

But your gaze drifts. Down to your wrist.

There it is. Bright and stupid and clunky against the sleek black of your dress. 

ROGUE.

It looks even more ridiculous now than it did in the café. Like a tacky souvenir trying to pass in a room full of doctoral candidates.

You sigh.

It’s not that you’re ashamed of it, exactly. 

Just… aware of it. 

In a way you weren’t before. 

Aware of what it signals—about you, about the you that exists in here, in this apartment. 

The one who fights over fridge space and burns frozen pizza and still hides snacks under the bed like you’re prepping for an apocalypse Jungkook might eat through.

Jason didn’t make you feel bad about it. Not at all. 

But there was that little jolt of being seen in a way you didn’t mean to be. Like wearing pajamas to class by mistake.

You run your thumb over the beads. They’re slightly warm from your skin, the elastic stretched just enough to make a faint indent on your wrist. 

It’s silly. 

So fucking silly. 

You shouldn’t have even worn it out. It doesn’t belong in cafés with marble tables and edible flowers. Doesn’t belong with guys who talk about Rilke and open your door and make you feel like your brain is the most interesting thing about you.

It belongs here. Inside these walls. In the shared chaos of mismatched mugs and territorial coffee wars and Griffin sleeping on your face. 

It belongs in the version of you that forgets to do laundry and screams at reality TV and gets off with your roommate like it’s just another way to burn through stress.

Maybe it’s time to choose. Or at least… edit.

You slide the bracelet off. Slowly. Carefully. Set it down on your dresser, next to the copy of The Bell Jar you’ve been meaning to reread and a half-burnt candle that smells like peaches and something faintly smoky.

You’ll still wear it sometimes. Just not… when you go out with Jason. Not when you want to feel sleek and composed and like maybe, just maybe, you’re building something a little more deliberate than chaos. 

Maybe that’s okay.

You leave it where it is.

And you don’t stop to think whether Jungkook is even wearing it at all.

“You’re alive?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, a bit too loud for a quiet apartment and a bit too sarcastic for someone who just walked through the front door. 

But it’s Yoongi. You’re pretty sure he came out of the womb with a glare and noise-cancelling headphones.

He gives you a flat look, keys jingling as he kicks the door shut behind him. 

No hello, no how was your day, just a flick of his eyes from your face to your bare legs stretched across the coffee table, one foot propped up like you’re posing for a toenail polish ad no one asked for.

“Didn’t expect you home,” you add, waving your freshly painted big toe in his direction. “Figured you were off ghosting the apartment all weekend like usual.”

He drops his messenger bag by the door with a soft thud, shrugs like the weight of being perceived is too much.

“Didn’t have that much work today,” he says, deadpan, already halfway to the kitchen. “Been overworking all week. Even I get tired of being productive.”

You blink. “Wait—you work on Sundays?”

“I work always,” he calls back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet like it personally offended him. “What’s your point?”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your foot on the arm of the couch so the polish doesn’t smudge. 

“My point is, maybe stop pretending you’re not a person and do something degenerate for once. Watch trash TV. Go outside.”

“I went outside,” he mutters, reaching for the coffee grounds. “Regret it.”

“You’re making coffee now?” You glance at the clock. “You’ll be awake all night.”

“Mm,” Yoongi says, which is less a response and more a vibe. “Not like I’ve slept properly in a week anyway.”

“That sounds healthy,” you sing, flicking the cap back onto the nail polish bottle. 

You don’t know when this stopped being weird—talking to him like this. 

It’s not friendship, exactly, but it’s not not that either. 

Comfortable-ish. Low maintenance. The kind of dynamic that doesn’t need checking in.

Griffin trots out from wherever he was napping, tail flicking with that ‘where the fuck is my dinner, peasants’ energy.

You lean over and scratch behind his ear. “Still no sign of your boy?”.

Yoongi shrugs —his primary form of communication—then cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “JUNGKOOK!”

The silence that follows is answer enough.

“Nah, he’s not home,” Yoongi confirms unnecessarily.

You roll your eyes, screwing the cap back on your nail polish. “Thanks for the thorough investigation.”

You go back to focusing on your second foot, tongue poking out slightly as you try not to smear the top coat. 

Then—

“Hey,” he says, casual but not. “By the way…”

You pause, brush hovering mid-air.

“…I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Your stomach drops. 

Those words never precede anything good. 

Is he kicking you out? Did you do something wrong? Is the rent going up? Did he find your secret stash of chocolate-covered pretzels hidden behind the rice?

“Okay…” you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee, still not meeting your eyes. The silence stretches just long enough to make your anxiety spike before he finally speaks.

“It’s about Jungkook.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Did Jungkook complain about you? Is Yoongi about to give you some weird roommate intervention? Does he know about the… arrangement you and Jungkook have? 

God, that would be mortifying.

“What about him?” you ask, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to defensive.

Yoongi presses his lips together like he’s trying to decide if speaking is worth the effort. Spoiler: it usually isn’t.

Then—quiet, low: 

“Back at the karaoke place… you met Mia, right?”

You freeze mid-swipe, the brush hovering just above your toenail. There’s a split second where your brain tries to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t. Pretend you forgot. But your body answers before your mouth does—shoulders tensing, breath pulling tight behind your ribs.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I remember.”

And you do. Perfectly. Chanel and Louboutins and weaponized perfume. Voice like saccharine venom and teeth too white to be trustworthy. 

You remember the grip on your arm. The way Jungkook looked—vacant, off, like someone unplugged him at the base of the spine.

Yoongi nods once, eyes fixed on his coffee like it might offer divine clarity.

“I need to know what happened.” 

His voice isn’t demanding, not exactly. Just… steady. Firm in a way you’ve never heard from him before. 

“What did she say to him?”

You shift on the couch, pulling your knees up to make room for Griffin, who hops beside you with zero regard for the wet polish on your toes. 

You don’t answer right away. Not because you’re trying to avoid it—it’s just that you’re not sure how to answer.

Yoongi doesn’t push. Just waits.

You glance toward the kitchen, then back at him. 

“I didn’t hear everything,” you start. “She was already talking to him when I found them. I didn’t even know who she was at first, just thought—some random girl, y’know?”

He nods once. Still waiting.

“She was dressed like she had three bodyguards waiting outside,” you add, because you can’t help yourself. “Total Upper East Side vibes. Like she was slumming it for the night.”

That earns a dry little huff from Yoongi. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Your fingers twitch against your thigh. 

“She knew it was his birthday,” you say, softer now. “Said it all sweet but—like. Fake sweet, you know? Like she was performing nice but wanted him to feel like shit for not inviting her.”

Yoongi’s jaw ticks as he listens. He’s still holding the coffee mug, but you can tell he’s not really drinking anymore. Just holding it like a prop.

“She said…” Your voice trails off. You swallow. “She said, ‘Try not to have too much fun without me.’ And something about his dad. I didn’t catch all of it. But her tone—it was like… she wanted to rattle him.”

Now Yoongi finally looks at you. Not full on, not probing, but enough to catch your face in his periphery. 

“She mentioned his dad?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Just—like, she knew it’d hit a nerve. She said something about ‘not replacing her’ or whatever. I don’t know the full context, but... whatever it was, it fucked with him. He looked—”

You pause. 

The image flashes in your head: Jungkook standing in the hallway, motionless. His face locked down, shoulders tight. Like something inside him had short-circuited.

“He looked small,” you say quietly. “Scared. Not like himself.”

Yoongi takes that in. Doesn’t react right away. He just huffs out a breath through his nose and leans back against the edge of the kitchen counter.

Another pause.

Then: “She’s good at that.”

He says it flatly. No inflection. No explanation.

You tilt your head. “You know her?”

“Not much. But I know exactly what he looked like after her.”

You’re quiet, sensing the line. The invisible perimeter Yoongi keeps between what’s his to share and what isn’t.

“I’m not asking for his secrets,” you say, meaning it.

“Good,” he replies instantly. “Because they’re not mine to give.”

That makes you like him more. Irritatingly so.

You don’t push. But your gaze stays on him, curious.

Yoongi shrugs, finally setting his mug down on the counter. “I’ve only known him for a year and a half, so I wasn’t around back then. Not for most of it. But she left damage.”

You stay quiet.

“She knows his pressure points. Knows when to act like she’s joking and when to twist the knife.” He rubs the back of his neck like he hates even saying this out loud. “Jungkook’s got a... hard time with boundaries. Especially when it comes to people he used to love.”

Used to. Interesting phrasing.

Your lips part slightly, but Yoongi’s already waving a hand like he regrets going this far. “Anyway. Not my drama. Just wanted to know what she said. He didn’t tell us much.”

“Us?”

Yoongi shrugs again, folding his arms. “Me, Taehyung, Hobi. The ones that showed up when she blew everything up.”

You blink. “Blew everything up?”

He gives you a look. Not mean. Not angry. Just—measured. Like he’s deciding how much to trust you.

“I said too much already,” he mutters. “But yeah. That hallway thing? That wasn’t nothing. I just needed to hear it from someone who saw it up close.”

You nod slowly. “Makes sense.”

Silence again. Not uncomfortable exactly. But heavy.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and glances down at Griffin, who’s now making biscuits into a throw pillow like he pays rent. 

“He didn’t tell you anything, huh?”

“No.” The word comes out before you can stop it. Then, quieter: “He just said he needed air.”

Yoongi exhales. “Figures.”

You want to ask more. About Mia. About Jungkook. About what the hell happened that’s got Yoongi this protective over someone he’s known for less than two years. But something in his expression makes you hold your tongue.

So you just nod, brushing your fingers lightly over Griffin’s back.

After a beat, you say, “Thanks for telling me. Even if it was just a little.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee mug in a half-toast. “Don’t read into it. You were there. I needed intel. That’s all.”

You smirk. “Sure.”

But you both know that’s not all.

Not even close.

"Wait," you call out just as Yoongi's about to disappear completely. 

You're not sure why you feel compelled to say this—it's not like you owe Tessa anything—but after everything you've just learned about Mia, it feels important somehow.

Yoongi pauses, hand on his doorknob, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"That girl at the birthday party," you say, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "Tessa? I think she genuinely likes him. Like, in a normal way."

You don't know why you're telling him this. 

Maybe because after hearing about Mia's toxicity, the idea of someone simple and sweet being interested in Jungkook feels like information worth sharing. 

Yoongi tilts his head slightly. "The ginger one? Sat next to him?"

"Yeah," you nod, surprised he noticed. "She asked for my advice, actually. About him. She wants to get coffee with me to talk about it."

"Huh." Yoongi leans against his doorframe, considering this. "She seemed... nice."

The way he says ‘nice’ makes it sound like he's describing an alien species he's only read about in textbooks.

"She is nice," you confirm. "Like, genuinely nice. Soft. Girly.  Probably doesn't have any emotional baggage or toxic exes lurking around corners."

You're babbling now, but you can't seem to stop. 

Because you feel guilty. 

Because you told this nice beautiful girl to go for an emotionally stunted dude who apparently has way too much baggage. 

Because maybe Jungkook is not even ready for any of this.

"I told her to go for it. With Jungkook, I mean. Before I knew about... all this Mia stuff."

Yoongi's expression shifts subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes. "You're playing matchmaker now?"

There's no judgment in his voice, just curiosity, but you feel defensive anyway.

"Not matchmaking," you clarify. "Just... I don't know. Being supportive? She asked, I answered. It's not a big deal."

"Right," Yoongi says, in a tone that suggests he thinks it might actually be a big deal. "And how does Jungkook feel about Tessa?"

You shrug, suddenly realizing you have no idea. "I don't know. They're in some classes together I think. He hasn't mentioned her."

"Jungkook doesn't mention a lot of things," Yoongi points out.

"True." You fiddle with the cap of your nail polish, avoiding his gaze. "I just thought... she’s nice. And so pretty. I just thought… maybe it could do him some good—before I even knew about this, I mean.”

Yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. "Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

He shrugs. "It's not about what I think. It's about whether Jungkook's ready for someone new. Especially someone... nice."

The way he says it makes you wonder if ‘nice’ is a liability in Jungkook's world. 

If after someone like Mia, ‘nice’ feels too foreign, too simple.

"Well, I already told her to go for it," you say, feeling suddenly uncertain. "Should I... un-tell her?"

Yoongi actually smiles at that—a small, fleeting thing, but definitely a smile. "No. Let it play out. Who knows? Maybe you're right. Maybe nice is exactly what he needs."

He doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't sound dismissive either.

"Okay," you say, relieved. "I just... wanted you to know. Since we're apparently on Team Jungkook now."

Yoongi snorts. "I've always been on Team Jungkook. You're the new recruit."

"I didn't exactly volunteer," you point out.

"And yet here you are," he says, "worrying about his love life."

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. 

He's not wrong.

"Anyway," Yoongi continues, "thanks for telling me about Tessa. And about what happened with Mia."

You nod, feeling like you've passed some kind of test you didn't know you were taking.

Yoongi gives you one last unreadable look before finally retreating into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sit there for a moment, processing the entire bizarre conversation. 

In the span of fifteen minutes, you've gone from painting your toenails in peaceful solitude to being drafted into some kind of Protect Jungkook squad with Yoongi, of all people.

Life in Apartment 6B just keeps getting weirder.

Thirty-seven minutes later, you're sprawled on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, staring at Tessa's unanswered text like it's a bomb you need to defuse.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢? 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎? 🙂

You’re second-guessing everything after that conversation with Yoongi. 

Should you really be encouraging Tessa to pursue Jungkook when you know he's still dealing with Mia-shaped emotional shrapnel? Is it fair to either of them?

But then again, who are you to play gatekeeper to Jungkook's love life? Maybe Tessa is exactly what he needs—someone sweet and uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't have the baggage of a toxic ex or whatever the hell happened with his father.

You groan and flop back against your pillows. 

Why do you even care? 

It's not like you and Jungkook are anything to each other. You're just roommates who occasionally fuck. 

You’re barely even… friends.

The word acquires a weird shape in your mind.

You pick up your phone again, determined to respond to Tessa without overthinking it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚊! 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢. 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 2 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎. 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝?

You hit send before you can change your mind. 

It's just coffee. It's not like you're arranging a marriage.

Truth is, next week’s already packed—Yeji’s gallery prep, that shift you picked up for someone who ‘owes you one’ but never actually pays up, and whatever Jungkook’s been muttering about needing help with but refusing to ask. 

It’s easier to just skip ahead. Two weeks. Feels safer. Less chance of Tessa becoming something to manage short-term.

Her response comes almost immediately.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚢𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚢 🥰! 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝙴. 𝟷𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚝. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

You know Syrup—it's one of those Instagram-bait cafés with latte art and avocado toast that costs more than your hourly wage. Not exactly your usual haunt, but it's not too far from campus.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜! 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 2 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝! 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜!!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚:𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 🤗

You stare at the message, a knot forming in your stomach. 

Because you don't ‘get’ Jungkook. Not really. 

You didn't know about his dad, or the full extent of the Mia situation, or why he disappeared to the rooftop that night. 

You know he likes John Mayer and makes good coffee and his favorite position is cowgirl.

You know he smells like rain and his hands are always warm and he secretly carries cat treats around.

But those are just details, not understanding.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 ’𝚐𝚎𝚝’ 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 :) 

That feels safer. 

Better to lower her expectations now than have her think you're some Jungkook whisperer with all the answers.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕!!

Intimidated by Jungkook? 

The idea is almost laughable. 

How could you be intimidated by someone who once spent twenty minutes trying to coax Griffin out from under the couch with a piece of string cheese?

But then you remember how other people see him—the sharp jawline, the tattoos, the way he carries himself like he’s not actually dumb as hell. 

You can see how someone like Tessa might find him intimidating.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚡, 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You hesitate, then add:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠

It feels important to add that caveat, even if you're not sure why. 

Maybe because of what Yoongi told you. 

Maybe because you've seen glimpses of that complication yourself.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚛 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚢

You frown at the screen. There's something about her response that doesn't sit right with you. Like she's romanticizing the very things that make Jungkook difficult—the walls he puts up, the emotional distance, the complications Yoongi hinted at.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚌𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚔? 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚕

You hit send, then immediately regret your tone. That came off way harsher than you meant it to. You're about to type a follow-up when Tessa's reply appears.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🙈 𝚒'𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚛𝚗

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗-𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚜? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚢 😣

Oh. That's actually... kind of sweet. Seems like Jungkook really does have a thing for Korean cinema.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝! 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚔?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖. 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠/ 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎! 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚕 🙈

Your heart softens a little. There's something vulnerable about the way she just shared that personal detail, then immediately apologized for it.

It reminds you of how you sometimes overshare when you're nervous, then backpedal frantically.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚍. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 ��𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘 :(

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 💕 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚘. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚘? 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚜 😔

That actually makes a lot of sense. You can see why she'd be drawn to Jungkook if they share this interest. 

And you know from experience how rare it is to find someone who genuinely cares about the things you're passionate about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 🙄

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚊𝚛-𝚠𝚊𝚒 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 🥺

You can't help but smile a little. She’s clearly excited she is to have found someone who shares her interests. You remember feeling that way with Jason today, when he actually engaged with your thoughts on literature instead of just nodding along.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚝𝚠 𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛. 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚗

Tessa takes a moment to reply, the ellipses blinking thoughtfully.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 :( 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚎!! 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏?

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙!! 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 🤞

Okay, that feels reasonable. She's acknowledging your concern without getting defensive, and clarifying her own expectations. 

Maybe she's more level-headed than you initially gave her credit for.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍!! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 <3

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 😴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌 𝚞 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙! :)

Time to bow out before you accidentally become her relationship coach.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕!! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐!! 🥺✨

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊ｙ!! 💖

You put your phone down, feeling a sense of closure on that front, at least for tonight. 

Tessa seems sweet, if a little naive about the potential complications involved with Jungkook. 

But she's also genuinely interested in him for reasons that make sense, and she seems aware enough to proceed with caution.

You roll over, pulling the covers tighter. 

It's weird, offering dating advice about your roommate who you're also sleeping with to a girl you barely know. 

Weirder still that you actually kind of... like her? And want things to work out okay for her?

Maybe you're growing up. Or maybe you're just tired.

Either way, Tuesday is going to be interesting.

goal: 750 notes

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[kyri45]

Not me abusing the asks to both share my love for the bioparents AU AND rant about the panels because none of my friends are in the LMK fandom and I'm suffering here so TAKE MY LOVE AND APPRECIATION ABOUT YOUR ART I guess x)

So first of all

I am a SUCKER for that kind of leaning in frames I'm going to print that and plaster it on my wall THEY ARE EVERYTHING /hj

I almost jumped of my chair when this one popped up YOU FED US GOOD its so worth the angst train incoming. Of course the panels before and after were equally as amazing but if I start going about every single panel we're still here in three days AT THE VERY LEAST LOL

Of course this one made me laugh like please their little faces

Using that to point out how much I love ALLLLLLL the silly faces you put in your comics I'm munching on them every single time they're crushy like chips or something just. Nom nom. Yummy.

Poor Nesha (Nesha? Nezha? Neja? I have no idea on how to write his name I already forgor LMAO) needs to be payed more. He tries to save MK and ends up dealing with two lovesick teenagers demons who have no concept of time/place/occasion apparently. Poor him. He gets a pat on the head for his troubles

And of course just the "NOPE I'M KEEPING HIM" mode and honestly we should have seen it coming- Red son was planning to courtnap him and didn't sleep in the past 5 days so he's not having any bullshit YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIS NOODLE BOY AWAY-

Could bet he spent so long thinking about the cournapping in the 5 past days his brain just cannot process that yeah maybe you need to let him down you're just going to drag him in more troubles- Either that or he's just going full protective mode. Both options are good anyways sooooo :)

We stan a protective boyfriend in this house.

---

And finally I'm SOOOOO hyped about whatever is coming next like I know that technically we're supposed to suffer but please I climbed up the angst train so many times now I'm just enjoying it by that point lol. It'll just make the following fluff even more worth it

Also I cannot wait to see MK's plan about the contract I'm so curious I'm dying I love you boys but I really want the plot to progress you can go back to kissing later lol

Finally, thank you for creating this AU. It's stumbling randomly upon it on my tik tok fyp that dragged me into watching Lego Monkie Kid and really THANK YOU FOR THAT. It's such an amazing show I CANNOT BELIEVE I didn't discovered it sooner so really thank for having created this comic because else I could have missed LMK and that would be just saaaad

Fun fact: since I had never interacted with LMK the first time I read your comic, I for some reason thought Macaque was a female (and I probably would have thought the same of Wukong if he wasn't called... well, Wukong because I randomly stumbled upon the myth's Wikipedia page at some point in my life XD). The shock I felt when I heard Macaque for the first time in the show because his voice was soooooo not what I expected x) I'm still laughing at myself to this day

So yeah, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I can't wait to see what you're going to pull next :D Wish you allllll the best <3

(I can totally wait, of course, it's just a figure of speech. Take your time, I could wait forever for the next chapter)

ahaha thank you for such a lovely comment!! Glad the scene gived "MINE" vibes as I was planning ahah.

Youu're welcome! It's an honor to serve this fandom. *bows*

[legendofmorons]

Written in the stars (forever on loop) chapter sixteen - out of touch

Pairing: poly! Chain x reader, Wind & reader

Rating: T

Summary: The day after you wake up from the Evil Magic Dungeon Of Doom leaves everyone with plenty of feelings. Some of the group is better at handling this than others. Dark is losing his temper and is back to planning attacks.

(Aka: two of the boys get hugs, Hyrule opens up on accidents, Sky drops some random lore about his Sunshine, Time puts his foot in his mouth like three different times, Dark has a vendetta over the dungeon mishap, and Epona is offscreen but very annoyed at Twilight.)

Warnings: cursing, grief, Time puts his foot in his mouth

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

Previous masterlist next

-------

The morning after you get to town is something you aren't ready to face, so you get up before anyone else and go to sit on the inn porch and watch the sunrise. You make sure your sword is with you. After getting surprised at the river, you're not keen to go without it.

Sleep is nowhere in reach, but sitting on the porch with Spooky at your side is nice.

"What do you think, pumpkin?" You ask as you scratch their chin.

Spooky purrs happily, leaning into your touch.

"Yeah?" You smile a little, "I'm glad you're happy."

You lean back on your hands while Spooky stretches across your legs. The air is still a little chilly, but it's a nice reprieve from the too-hot bed.

The looming talk with Time is not something you are looking forward to, but you know he has his concerns. You can't blame him for that.

Honestly... you don't know why Legend and Warriors are being so chill about everything. They're hovering still, but there's no distrust.

Maybe you're just missing something.

There's a few stray voices that the door muffles, but you chalk it up to other people being unable to sleep.

You sigh, leaning back on your hands and letting your head fall back.

Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and savor the fresh air.

Spooky purrs happily as they lounge on you.

This is nice. The air is cleaner than most places you know on Earth, and the sunrise is well worth seeing.

There's still a lot on your mind, but it isn't going anywhere.

You know what you did in the dungeon wasn't great. You can't ignore the twisting pit in your stomach around the promise or knocking Hyrule out.

It all feels ... dirty.

You didn't mean to make the promise. You didn't think about it. That dosen’t change that you did make the promise or that it broke a boundary that Hyrule made clear...

As far as knocking him out?

What else is there to have done?

You could have tried harder to convince him to come with you on his own? Maybe? But he was so out of it...

Maybe you could have told him you're his honeybee? That feels dirty, too, because you are and you aren't. It's not true, and it sets him up for disappointment and hurt when you don't remember everything.

You could have tried dragging him while he was awake? But really... how do you expect to get him anywhere he doesn't want to go while he's in that state?

What does it say about you that you knocked him out? Are you the kind of person who does that to make things easier?

Are you...

Are you a bad person?

If the roles were switched and Hyrule had knocked you out... how would you feel?

Hurt.

You would feel hurt... but with an explanation, you would like to think you'd understand and still trust him.

Hopefully?

No wonder Hyrule wants space, and Time doesn't trust you anymore.

You let out a heavy sigh. "I'm so screwed, Spooks."

Spooky just yawns.

The voices inside get closer and sound urgent.

Strange.

You set your hand on your sword, unsure if you're about to need it.

Probably not.

...Right?

Hylians probably don't pose a threat.

You're just... jumpy.

That's all.

There's more talking.

The door opens quickly, and three members of the chain are spilling out and rushing down the stairs of the porch.

"Is someone hurt?" You ask as you push Spooky off of you.

Spooky huffs but sits up.

You push to your feet as all three heroes turn to look at you with wide eyes.

Warriors, Legend, and Hyrule all stand there looking as if they got up in a rush.

Warriors wears only pants, undershirt, and chainmail. His boots' laces are wild and untied.

Hyrule wears no shoes and his under tunic with pants. His hair is wild and has leaves in it.

Legend ears only his evergreen tunic and socks. No hat or shoes in sight.

"You - where were you?!" Legend rushes out as he catches his breath.

"Right here?" You manage weakly. "What's wrong? Is someone hurt?"

"We thought you were hurt!" Warriors says tightly, "you weren't there when Wind woke up!"

"I was just getting some air. I'm sorry I worried you," you say as you let yourself relax.

"We thought the shadow had you," Hyrule breathes out.

"Oh. I- I'm okay. I didn't want to wake anyone."

"Just tell someone next time," Warriors sighs as he drags a hand down his face.

"I will. I didn't - " You start only to fall silent.

You didn't think about it.

That's apparently going to be an issue for you.

You didn't think before you made the promise.

You didn't think before leaving without telling anyone.

You're just messing up left and right, aren't you?

"We just - we don't want you to get hurt again. You have a knack for getting into incidents," Legend offers as he stumbles closer.

You wince, unable to argue back. "Would you believe it wasn't this drastic back home?"

"Yes," Hyrule says simply. There's a strange weight in his tome that makes you sea sick.

"You - you know next time I want air, I'll tell someone. I'm sorry I worried you," you say as you step off the porch. You set a hand on Legend's shoulder, "I really wasn't trying to."

Legend just surges forward, pulling you into a tight, almost desperate hug.

You gasp but hug him back on instinct.

He shakes in your arms, and he lets out a bitter laugh. "Take someone with you next time."

"Are you offering?" You manage to ask as you ignore how nice his arms are around you.

"Sure," Legend says as he pulls you closer.

His voice is shaking.

("Take me with you next time, Trinket," the man laughs as he pulls you into his arms.)

"Okay," you say as you let yourself have this.

The hug is nice. It's like coming home. He's warm and solid and real.

He's him.

His arms hold you just as you remember.

He smells sweaty, but you don't really mind.

Legend holds you as if you are precious and someone he loves deeply. One hand pets your back gently with his other hand settles on your shoulder.

The door opens again behind you.

"Oh ya foun' 'em," Twilight says thickly.

"We found them," Hyrule says slowly.

"I'll run 'n tell th' othe's," Twilight says as he turns to go back in.

"I'll come with you," Hyrule says.

You watch Hyrule leave while still hugging Legend.

Legend just sighs as he steps back, hands coming up to your shoulders. "Seriously, take someone with you."

"I will," you say.

"Good."

You glance over to Warriors, who is standing there awkwardly as if he isn't sure what to do.

"Are you okay, Wars?" You ask.

"Yeah," he says, like a liar.

You aren't sure what compels you to offer it, but you ask, "Do you want a hug too?"

"I- you're sure you don't mind?" Warriors manages.

"I'm sure," you say as you step closer to him and open your arms.

Legend steps back.

Warriors stumbles into you, pulling you into his arms gently with a half sob.

You don't comment on that, wrapping your arms around him instead.

He shakes too, but he's just as real and solid as ever.

He smells like the sandalwood soap he loves so much.

"You - I thought I'd lost you..." Warriors manages as he clings to you.

("I thought I lost you!" A man chokes as he pulls you out of the foliage. He pulls you close, the blue of his scarf familiar and soothing.)

You just sigh, rubbing his back. "I'm harder to get rid of than that."

"I know," he says mournfully.

"It's okay," you tell him.

"I know."

You can't help the next words that fall from your lips. They rise from the same place the memories and affection do. "I'm okay, Link. We all are."

Warriors chokes on a sound and shakes in your hold as he holds you closer.

He holds you as if you are a bouy in a stormy sea.

"You should both go back inside. You all need more sleep," you sigh as you step back and out of his hold.

"What about you?" Legend asks weakly.

"I'm just going to stay here a bit longer."

"We can stay too then," Warriors manages to say.

"You don't have to. I'm just going to watch the sunrise and think," you smile weakly.

Legend comes to stand next to Warriors with his arms crossing. "We don't mind staying."

"I really do just need to think," you say.

"Do... you want to think alone, or can we stay out here with you?" Warriors asks.

You -

You can't find it in yourself to turn them away. You still need to think... but is it bad to let them stay?

"I'm not going to be much of a conversationalist," you say.

"That's okay," Legend shrugs.

"If you don't mind that, you're welcome to stay."

The three of you end up sitting on the porch with your backs to the inn.

Warriors is on your left, and Legend is on your right. Spooky lays between the door and you three.

You let yourself run scenarios of what you could have done differently in the dungeon.

Maybe you're spiraling if you're honest...

Legend slumps towards you, head falling onto your shoulder as his body falls into you. His spine curls some.

You glance over and find him sleeping.

Good. He needs it.

Warriors isn't far behind Legend. He falls towards you a little too.

You help guide Warriors to slump against you as well, letting him rest.

You still can't sleep, but this is nice.

This is really nice.

The weight of the men on either side of you is a wordless reassurance that you are safe.

You still have too much on your mind, but you are not some abhorrent monster. You don't cause pain at any given chance.

You apparently give off enough comfort for two of the most insomniac and weary heroes to sleep deeply.

Settling into your new positions, you relax into the moment.

-------

Time sits at a table nursing his coffee while wondering just how long you, Legend, and Warriors plan to be outside. It's well after sunrise now, and even Sky is awake and alert.

Sky actually sits himself down by Time.

"They still haven't come in?" Sky asks before taking a sip of his own coffee.

"No," Time says primly.

He's not being paranoid like Hyrule says. He is simply being realistic.

You are a mystery to them all.

You seem to have some sway with two of the least trusting members of the group.

You have a panther that adores you.

You have Wind's adoration - which is admittedly one of the less concerning things because you are good to the kid.

You get into all of the strangest accidents.

How can he trust you after this latest issue? You say Hyrule was being controlled, but Hyrule isn't talking, and you were dragging him out.

Time sees how cagey Hyrule is around you since yesterday, how he watches you closely but dosen’t talk to you...

"Are you okay?" Sky asks.

"I'm fine," Time says evenly.

"Uh huh, why are you white knuckling your mug?"

Time frowns, looking down to see he is, in fact, gripping his mug tight enough to make his knuckles white.

He loosens his grip.

"I'm just concerned," Time says evenly.

Sky gives a look of exhaustion. "You aren't seriously thinking that (Y/n) did something to them."

"You can't tell me that isn't a concern," Time says as evenly as he can.

When he looks at Sky, he finds a thoroughly unimpressed look staring at him.

"Time, you have to be kidding me," Sky says with a heavy sigh.

"How are you not concerned? Hyrule has barely spoken to anyone since the dungeon, and they dragged him out. We don't even know if he was really being controlled," Time explains as calmly as he can. His voice is high and tight.

Sky just sighs heavily, "If that's what happened, Hyrule would have said something."

"To who? Legend? Warriors?"

"I understand that they're messing with your head, Time, but think about it. We know the fae running the dungeon was feeding on misery," Sky says slowly.

"Yes..."

"You don't get to hold them doing what they had to do to get Hyrule and themselves out alive against them," Sky says evenly, though his eyes look stormy.

There's an intensity to the sky child that Time isn't expecting.

"I'm just -"

"No. You're looking for something wrong because you are having a hard time with them around," Sky says as he stares the eldest down. "You're allowed to be upset and struggling, but you don't get to do this."

Time stares at him, pushing down the urge to shake sense into him. Time is struggling with that.

How dare Sky say that?

He isn't looking for problems!

Time just sees a suspicious situation!

"You don't think it's suspicious?"

"No. I think (Y/n) is someone who has no experience with things like this adventure. I think they were in a bad situation with no good choices."

"What if they're lying?"

Sky just stares at him for a moment. Then he gives an incredulous laugh. "Why would they lie and say they knocked him out? If they were lying, wouldn't they say they didn't?"

"I -" Time pauses.

He can't argue with that. It's a good point.

He still thinks it's strange. Hyrule won't talk to you.

"Your version of (Y/n) never had to do things to survive, did they?" Sky asks with a strangely heavy tone.

Time swallows thickly. "No. I kept that part of my life far away."

"Is that the issue? Seeing someone so similar thrust into this life?" Sky asks.

Time does not like the surging grief the question brings.

"I don't think it is."

"If you say so."

"You think it is?" Time asks, thoughts even he can admit it sounds accusatory.

"I think it's weighing on you. It weighs on a lot of us."

"Does it weigh on you, then?" Time asks as he shoves his emotions as far into his trusty Repression Canyon.

Sky huffs. "How could it not?"

"I... Sky, I shouldn't have asked."

"I brought it up. It's fine. I just - my Sunshine did have to do hard things to survive. I - hate seeing (Y/n) have to do it, too."

"Oh," Time manages faintly. "I -"

"They - weren't ever quite the same."

"No... no one ever is."

"No. They were still them. They just... had a little less hope in their eyes. That damnable demon had the gall to take them..."

"I'm so sorry," Time's manages.

"Don't be. It's- over, and the demon sword learned not to mess with my Sunshine, they had a stubborn streak..." Sky says with an oddly vindictive glee before he shakes his head and returns his attention to Time. "Just don't take your grief out on (Y/n). They did their best."

"You're... right," Time sighs.

He hates that Sky is right.

He hates that he is apparently just being paranoid.

"You still want to check on them," Sky says knowingly.

"It's been hours."

"Just don't be too hard on (Y/n)."

"Okay," Time says softly.

Shame is a hell of a suppressant.

He is going to have to look at his own biases and fears. Isn't he?

He hates feeling his own feelings.

Time misses his lover.

He misses his lover a lot.

Sky is right, though, about a lot of it.

If you were lying, why would you say you knocked Hyrule out?

You haven't shown any malicious behavior either.

You're good with Wind, encouraging the kid to do fun things.

You are just some unlucky sap who is on this adventure because the shadow has a sick sense of humor.

Time stands and makes his way to the door. Each step is just another chance to wonder if he's walking too heavy to come of non-threatening.

He leaves the dining area and makes it to the reception and front desk area.

There's an older woman at the desk and a few guests milling around.

There is no sign of you, Legend, or Warriors.

Time supposes he should go outside then.

He lets himself wonder how unfair he is to you a moment before he opens the door.

He makes it onto the porch and shuts the door behind him.

He turns to see if he can find you and nearly startles when he hears your voice from the left.

"Time?" You ask.

Time looks over and down, and he finds he isn't sure what to say.

You sit there and look up at him with a sleeping hero on either side of you.

"I was looking for you three," he manages.

"We've been here. They fell asleep, and I didn't want to wake them."

"I can see that."

"I guess you want to talk to me then? If you'll give me a few minutes... I can meet you inside? Or somewhere else?" You offer haltingly.

Time swallows thickly. What is he even going to talk about now? "You don't have to. I just wanted to ask for more clarification on what happened."

"Oh."

"That can wait," he decides.

Really, seeing Legend and Warriors asleep is... good.

They both look so at peace.

Their brows are lax, and Warriors actually looks to be dreaming.

"Are you sure?" You ask slowly.

Time just nods once. "Yes."

He isn't sure why the conversation seems so much less important.

Well, that's a lie.

He does know.

How can a conversation meant to prove you aren't worth trusting be important when you are sitting here for the third or fourth hour in a row while letting two heroes nap on you?

"Okay."

"You should probably come inside and eat soon," Time tells you.

"Probably," you agree.

He just watches you.

There's an exhaustion in your eyes that he recognizes.

He opens his mouth, and he means to ask if you want coffee or tea. He dosen’t. He instead does a truly glorious job of putting his foot in his mouth.

"Are you sure there wasn't something else you could have done besides knocking Hyrule out?" Time asks.

He dosen’t know why that's what came out of his mouth.

You suck in a breath.

Time could shake himself.

"Give me a minute," you say shakily.

Time watches as you start to gently wake Legend and Warriors. You shake them gently and whisper things he can't make out.

Legend and Warriors both groan, but they come to awareness at your gentle insistence.

Within a minute and thirty-seven seconds, both men are sitting up.

"I'll meet you guys inside," you say from your spot, still sitting.

"What?" Legend blinks at you.

"I'm just going to talk to Time, I'll meet you inside," you assure.

"No, you should come too," Legend says as he stares at you.

"It's fine," you wave off. "It needs to happen."

Time wants to shrink when he sees the looks that Warriors and Legend cast him.

Accusing and cold.

Their eyes are anything but understanding.

"Does it?" Warriors asks as he raises one horribly judgmental brow at Time.

"Wars," you sigh, "I'll be fine."

"I'm sure it can wait," Legend says darkly.

"Guys, please," you say firmly.

Time watches Legend and Warriors share a series of looks before they stand up.

The two leave with dirty looks.

You sigh, leaning back where you sit.

Time wants to apologize again. He wants to tell you it can wait.

"You want to know what else I could have done?" You ask him while avoiding his gaze.

He should say no.

"I do. What else could you have done?" Time asks.

He hates himself.

"I don't know. I didn't know what to do. I feel horrible about that, by the way. I didn't want to do that! I didn't want to take away his autonomy!" You say sharply, as if even you are angry at yourself.

You blink a few times, as something dawns on you.

"I - I just... I don't want those boys getting hurt. They're been through enough," Time says weakly.

"I know," you say softly.

He finds he believes that you do know some.

"I didn't mean to - I'm not trying to cause you distress. Are you... okay?" He hasks hesitantly, eyeing the way your shoulders shake.

"I - I'm still alive," you say instead of anything more reassuring.

"Do you... want to talk?"

"You know I couldn't figure out why exactly knocking Hyrule out felt so wrong? I knew it was. I knew I didn't want to and that hurting him felt bad enough... Talking to you made me realize a lot of it is because I took away any autonomy he had," you say with a shaking voice.

Oh.

Well, Time has made a mess of things now.

"That's... not great," Time manages. "I shouldn't have brought this up."

"What?" You ask as you look up at him with wide eyes.

"I was just so worried I let that blind me, and I got angry. It's unfair."

You give a soft, shaking laugh. "You know, you and Hyrule are the only people who are reacting normally?"

"What? No, I was just lashing out," Time tries to back pedal.

Really, he shouldn't hold this against you!

"Maybe. But do you know how weird it is that no one else is mad? Hyrule is. You are. I'm not saying you shouldn't be! Everyone else is just... sweeping it under the rug?"

"They aren't."

"They are. I really fucked up, Time," you say this in a shaking voice.

"I -"

"Why isn't Legend mad at me?" You ask with startling concern. "Why isn't anyone else wary?"

"They trust you," Time says.

You laugh at that, bitter and tired. "I don't even trust myself."

"Now I'm sure you did the best you could."

"You don't have to tip toe around it. I know you're upset," you sigh.

"I - was."

"Was?"

"I was. Then I spoke to Sky, and he put things into perspective."

"Don't tell me he made excuses for me."

"No. He just pointed out that you were in a bad situation."

"I'm so sick of hearing that," you sigh. "Bad situations don't magically excuse shit actions."

Time... isn't sure it matters if he's mad at you anymore. You're clearly mad at yourself and aware your actions suck.

What does he even say?

"What else could you have done?" Time asks.

You sigh, "Anything else, according to Hyrule. He's right. I could have really hurt him."

"Maybe," Time manages.

"I don't knock people out. If something had gone wrong he could have been hurt so much worse. I took away any autonomy he had left. I broke his boundaries. I could have done a lot different," you say.

"I - what do you mean you could have hurt him worse?" Time asks tightly.

Are you really that strong?

Has Time been missing things?

"If I - If I miscalculated the force? Or if I'd aimed my knee wrong? Or if I dropped him when he went dead weight? He could have gotten a head or neck injury. I - fucking hell Time, do you know how bad that would be?"

"How, exactly did you knock him out?" Time asks slowly.

"I slammed his face into my knee," you admit weakly.

"I - did you?" He asks faintly.

You sigh heavily, looking away. "I did."

"Well..." He manages before he realizes that he has no idea what to say.

On one hand, he's still very worried about Hyrule.

On the other? You obviously know how what you did was not great.

If he is honest... would he care so much if one of the boys did what you did?

He would certain worry. But would he be so callous?

"You're being rather hard on yourself," Time says finally.

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Maybe. But I still messed up pretty bad. I still endangered Hyrule. I still - I still took away his autonomy like the fae controlling him."

Okay.

Time is officially sure nothing he can do in 'retribution' will ever top your self flogging.

He isn't even close to mad at you anymore.

He's actually a little concerned.

"The fae was going to hurt him. You got him to saftey."

"I guess."

"I... can't exactly hold it against you when you got Hyrule out," Time says weakly.

He can't believe he was planning to tear into you.

You got his brother out of a situation meant to kill him.

Yes, your methods were... less than stellar, but he's got his own share of skeletons in the closet.

"If you say so."

"Do you want to come eat?"

"Probably should," you sigh.

"Do you need help getting up?"

"No."

-------

Dark dosen’t care to know what the heroes were thinking, he is going to have their heads for their failure.

He goes away with his darling lamb for a few days to go tend his love's health and then he comes back to see you dragging the traveler from a dungeon that reeks of cruel magic?!

Then he hears the story of what you faced!

You very nearly died because the heroes didn't have the sense to keep you away from the malicious dungeon!

You had to chase after one of them?!

Dark throws the knife and lands it in the bullseye perfectly.

You very nearly lost your life!

He only cares because it would take his darling lamb from him.

But even so, how could they ever do that to you? How could they ever leave you in such a vulnerable position?!

The reckless, careless, idiotic choice to leave you alone like that is unforgivable.

"How could they be so careless?!" Dark sneers as he throws a second knife.

"They're just incredibly stupid," Onyx sighs as they come up behind him.

They wrap their arms around his waist and lean to the side to see him better. Their cool touch is ever refreshing, and a treasure he thought lost.

"They are going to get you killed!" Dark snaps with a venom that so few achieve.

"We know they're incompetent," Onyx rolls their eyes. "It's not like they can stop the curse."

"If they could just stay away, or I don't know- not fuck up and abandon their soulmate it would not be such an issue!" Dark snarls as he throws another knife with impressive precision.

"You have to admit that (Y/n) has grit though," Onyx sighs as they lean into their lover.

He laughs, low as rolling thunder. "The heroes never deserved their soulmate."

"Mh, no they don't. So quick to get upset at them for doing what they must?"

"We have to keep a better eye on (Y/n), accident prone as they are."

"I do rather like them alive," Onyx laughs.

"Obviously."

Dark leans back against his lover. "Maybe we can seperate them again."

"Perhaps a yiga?" Onyx asks lightly.

"Maybe so. Maybe we can get (Y/n) on their own using the yiga..."

Onyx laughs, malicious and gleeful. "You're always so devious!"

"You always inspire my best plots," Dark says as he twists in their arms.

"Flattery?"

"What can I say? I am rather fond of you, my darling lamb."

They laugh again, tilting their head as they examine him. Their eyes are depths of liquid silver that he would happily drown in for even the slightest hint of their joy.

"My, my, you are smitten," They grin at him.

"As if you could go a day without me," Dark smirks.

"I went years without you, my viper," Onyx says with a scoff.

"I... yes. You did."

Onyx grins up at him, "I don't want to go that long without you ever again."

"Good," he says.

"Now, how about you and I work on that plan with the yiga?"

"Hm... Perhaps we could spend some time ensuring your health first?"

Onyx laughs, shaking their head before pulling him in for a kiss.

"Both?"

"Both."

-------

Legend stays inside with Hyrule while the others go to get information. He half wants to try to switch rooms around so he can watch you, but you have Warriors and Wind looking out for you.

Hyrule needs Legend.

Hyrule also needs to stop sulking inside his head.

"You're mad at (Y/n)," Legend says.

Hyrule gives him a look and then sighs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"They knocked you out because -"

"I'm not mad about that," Hyrule cuts in firmly. "It's not my favorite thing, but that's not what I'm mad about."

"Oh."

"Legend, they said they wouldn't make me Promises."

"Oh..."

"They made me a Promise anyway."

"Yeah... they did," Legend says.

He wants to defend you. He knows you! You aren't malicious!

You don't go against your word like that usually... but you did.

You said you wouldn't make Promises to Hyrule and then you did anyway.

"I can't believe them," Hyrule groans.

"Yeah..."

"You're not mad at them," Hyrule says, his tone is somewhere between calm observation and accusatory.

Legend dosen’t know how to explain it...

You may not do the perfect thing, but he knows you aren't out to hurt.

Legend knows you made that Promise on accident. You say so, and you just aren't the kind to purposefully cross boundaries like that.

Legend knows you were stressed and falling back on your habits. You always did like to promise to get yourself and someone else to safety...

Legend can't tell Hyrule that you're you thoigh. He can't do that because it's cruel.

Legend is not cruel.

Snarky? Yes.

Awkward? Absolutely.

Weary of strangers? You bet your hat.

But unnecessarily cruel? Legend does his best to not be that way.

"I don't think it was on purpose. It was their first dungeon," Legend says with a half shrug.

Hyrule sighs, slow and heavy. "I know. They - I'm sure it was on accident, but that dosen’t change that it happened."

"I know."

"I don't even know anymore, Legend. It feels like I'm losing my mind."

"I... The dungeon sounds like it was hell," Legend sighs.

"It wasn't," Hyrule gives a mirthless laugh. "I was so... excited."

Legend swallows thickly. What is he to say?

What can he say?

"Do you... remember any of it?"

"Bits and pieces. I was... not super aware."

"That sounds rough."

"You know, (Y/n) did great. They kept us alive."

"That's good."

"They told the fae they couldn't have me," Hyrule's says with a soft awe that Legend can't help but echo.

Of course you are the one to stand up to some strange and malicious fae.

It's you.

You always seem to have the stubborn streak to pull your boys out of situations that they aren't strong enough to save themselves from.

Legend can't help the adoration that swells at the thought of you.

"That sounds right," Legend says.

Hyrule just sighs, leaning back onto his bed. "They apologized to me before they knocked me out."

"They did?"

"Yes."

"Huh," Legend says.

Hyrule just falls backward onto the bed. "I don't even think I'm mad about the Promise... I'm just... hurt?"

"That makes sense."

"They endangered themselves," Hyrule says tightly. "They said they wouldn't make me Promises, and then they did."

"I know," Legend sighs.

He does know.

"They're the clearest thing about that place besides the feeling of false hope," Hyrule says with a weight behind his voice that is impossible to name and even harder to ignore.

"Oh. Is that... good?"

"I don't think anyone else would have gotten me out," Hyrule says with a snicker.

Legend frowns. "We would have."

"That place would have eaten any of the others alive. Legend my honeybee was calling for me. They were screaming."

"Hyrule... that's- that's so fucked up," Legend breathes out.

He wants to do something to help. Anything!

Hyrule's laughs an empty number. "Is it bad that I'm glad no one else went in?"

"No."

"I ... Legend we can't take them with us. We need to leave (Y/n) here," Hyrule says as he stares up to the ceiling.

"What?!" Legend demands.

He can't leave you!

He can't let you slip away from his life.

Not again.

"Legend... we are going to get them killed."

"No, we aren't."

"Just trust me," Hyrule sighs.

"Hyrule you don't understand what you're saying-"

"I can't lose them again!" Hyrule's snaps as he sits up again. The blood in his face is gone. He looks pale and a little sickly. His eyes are wild.

He looks far more ready to do something thoughtless than Legend thinks is safe.

Legend swallows thickly. "Hyrule-"

"I can't do this again, Legend. I nearly died last time and I can't do this again!"

"Hyrule..."

"Legend!"

"You know (Y/n) is our (Y/n), don't you?" Legend asks softer.

"I - you know too?"

"Wars does, too."

"Oh God - that explains a few things..." Hyrule manages weakly.

Legend sighs, "Hyrule, we can't leave them here."

"How many times have they almost died on this adventure?"

"We can keep them safe!"

"Can we?"

"Yes!"

"Legend, how? The curse -"

"Is already happening!" Legend cuts in sharply. "Leaving them behind in a strange town isn't going to save them!"

"I-... What else do we do?"

"We keep them with us and teach them to survive. Leaving them alone isn't going to help."

"I can't lose them again, Legend."

"None of us can."

Hyrule just lets out a shuddering sigh. "They saved me without thinking about themselves. I just - Legend I can't be why they die."

That's not a surprise. It's you, after all. "I know. We'll figure it out."

"We will?"

"We will. We're going to figure it out."

"Okay."

------

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[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (07)

chapter seven: built to break

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; the gorlies are fighting...?, not much for warnings in this chapter ig word count: 4.3k note: i finally got off my ass and wt is finally back lol. i had a last minute change of plans and thought "oh! you know what would be pretty neat? if we prolong the angst so everyone can be sad for longer!" <3 and this is how i announce that the next chapter is not wt8 but wt7.5 and it's written from his pov <3 merry christmas

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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I’ll hold my breath as I wait for your answer I’ll leave it up to you Tell me whether it’s yes or no Baby, love me or leave me tonight

Love Me or Leave Me - Day6

The warning signs, they're there. You can see them before they materialize. You know your own tells.

Your metaphorical bags are packed, your shoes are already on. You're about to run again, leave a half empty house before it has the chance to become a home. No one has to tell you that you're a flight risk; you're well aware of it yourself.

Wednesday Min: got plans tonight? You: booked and busy with ze old canvas Min: tomorrow? You: same thing probably. sorry Min: u're working hard lately You: yeah this one is just driving me crazy and i need it to turn out decent Min: it'll be perfect. it's u

Thursday Min: running errands at the store Min: want me to bring u anything? that caramel popcorn u like?

Friday Min: don't work too hard. remember to eat

That was three days ago, the last time you'd heard from him after you left him on read. It wasn't a complete lie; this project is driving you kinda crazy and you do need it to end up a decent piece, but you weren't exactly holed up in your apartment to slave over your painting. And you suppose Minho didn't find it all that suspicious because you tend to do this sometimes - disappear for a couple of days and force yourself to focus whenever you had a project to finish, before you come back to everybody again. You've come back to him before; it stands to reason that you'll do it again.

It's been about two weeks since you'd seen him, though the memories of that evening are still fresh in your mind - the evening of the group dinner, when he'd kissed you goodnight and left for his parents' house the following day. True to his words, he did send you pictures of the cats - ones of Soonie wearing a matching hoodie with him, a few of Doongie and Dori napping at the foot of his bed. There was an accompanying text - The kids miss you - along with a frowning emoji, and it made you wonder if what he really meant was I miss you.

You wanted him to miss you, because you missed him too.

The photos brought a smile to your face despite the predicament you found yourself in. A smile that was short lived, a smile that was soon wiped off when you realized your heart shouldn't be swelling with that much affection for him. It shouldn't, but the truth was that it did and you don't know how to live with it.

Love isn't something you've ever learned to hold.

It's beautiful yet full of thorns, and your hands are too clumsy to ever keep it from slipping from your fingers.

You remember when you first met Minho. Freshman year, at some popular senior's house party.

It feels like forever ago when you were just an awkward freshman at orientation who didn't have a single clue on how to make friends. Jess was your first friend in college, and you'll always be grateful that you got along well enough that she adopted you into the group with the rest of the guys.

You didn't cross paths with Minho until you were already acquainted with everyone else. On the night of the party, you remember being enamored with him for those couple of hours, and it wasn't the side effect of too many solo cups of cheap beer. Who in their right mind wouldn't be infatuated with him? He was beautiful, absolutely alluring, and you would always tell him as much.

Back then, he had brown hair, slighter shorter than now but it was tinted with the most gorgeous shade of red. You didn't know much about Minho, only been told that he was pretty quiet and might be off-putting to new people. It was sort of true; that night, you were intimidated by the aura he exuded. Mysterious, couldn't be bothered, didn't seem to give a shit. He looked like a scary little thing, while you were the new kid who was only trying to observe everyone's dynamics, not wanting to overstep any unspoken boundary.

To this day, you're still not sure what really happened, how you two immediately clicked and he's been one of the most important parts of your life ever since.

Maybe it was just him. Maybe it's always been him.

Minho, the one who makes you smile when all you want to do is curl up and cry. The one who makes you laugh when you look for joy but the search comes up empty. The one who grounds you every time you lose your way. Your anchor, the safe harbor you can always return to. The light at the end of a long, long tunnel.

You don't know where you stand, don't know where it goes from here now that everything is changing. He told you so himself, that nothing changed for him, but how could he possibly know that everything is changing for you? And it infuriates you to no end because you don't even have anyone to talk about this with. You're the only person whose world is being turned upside down after all.

You can't tell your friends because they can't know about you and Minho. You can't tell Minho because what would you even say? That you think you're in love with him? That the implications of what it means are devastating to you?

For the first time, you regret everything. Kissing him that night, sleeping with him, becoming whatever this is with him. Letting down your guard and falling for him somewhere along the way and you didn't even stop to notice it. You regret all of the decisions you've made up until now, because they've only led you to the point of no return, the point of losing him. You made bad decision after bad decision after bad decision, until you couldn't anymore. All along, there's been no one else to blame but you.

Maybe it hasn't happened yet, but it's inevitable. You will lose him. You are going to lose him.

There's no other ending, no other alternative that you can imagine. You're going to leave because you're a coward and it's what you do best. You ruin things before they get a chance to hurt you. You leave because if you don't leave then you'll be left behind, and you'd rather not bear the brunt of it.

Now, when you think of Minho, the thought is always accompanied by a painful reminder - Nothing changed for him.

When you get to the cafe, Hyunjin and Seungmin are already seated in a corner booth, three drinks in front of them, one of which they'd ordered for you before you arrived.

You slide into the seat next to Hyunjin, smiling at him appreciatively for the drink. There's still over half an hour before you have to walk to your shared class, over half an hour before Seungmin parts ways with you two to do whatever or whoever it is that Seungmin does on his off days.

"I still think it's Nara," Hyunjin says, casually sipping his iced coffee.

"Nara from your Lit class last semester?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I saw them talking at a party once."

"Okay. And?"

"And what? That's it."

"That's... all the evidence you have to back up your claim?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

You wave your hands in front of them. "What are you bozos talking about?"

"He’s still trying to figure out who Minho is hooking up with," Seungmin is the one who answers you without missing a beat, then he turns back to Hyunjin. "Anyway, it can't be Nara. She's dating Jaehyun on the basketball team."

The friend next to you flails his arms like a petulant child, like he couldn't have possibly seen this coming, like he was so sure that he had finally solved the mystery. "Great. I'm back to square one again."

You straighten your back and reach for your drink, tentatively gulping down the beverage as if it'll hide the fact that you've gone stiff the second this topic is brought up. You feel bad about it, sure. These are your friends that you're lying to after all. They don't have to look anywhere far; the answer to the secret is right in front of them.

"We're still on about that?" you ask in the calmest, most nonchalant voice you can muster. You usually consider yourself a believable liar (which, to be honest, isn't really a flex at all), but whenever someone mentions this little arrangement between you and Minho that shouldn't be common knowledge for anyone else, you feel like you're been put under a spotlight for the whole world to scrutinize.

"Duh," Hyunjin says. "You know, I'm kinda surprised that you don't know. You two are like, attached at the hip sometimes."

You give him a thoughtless shrug, your hands fiddling with the sticker on the plastic cup as you avoid looking at either of your friends. "Maybe he just wants to keep private things private, y'know? You wouldn't like either if all of us is suddenly all up in your business. And besides, what if it's just casual?"

Hyunjin scoffs. "Please, I'm an open book. I tell you guys everything. I tell you every time I hook up with someone."

"Yeah, but you see, literally no one needs to know that," Seungmin says.

The taller one only scoffs, waving his hands around dismissively in Seungmin's direction before he turns to you. "If it was just casual, would he save her name as - oh my God, I forgot what her contact name is. Freaking bird person or something."

You make a face. "What?"

"Dude, seriously?" Seungmin rolls his eyes. "You forgot one word? Dove? What is the matter with you?"

Perhaps it's the half-hearted teasing judgment in Seungmin's voice that makes Hyunjin take offense and drop the topic. The conversation veers off course when they start bickering like children in the busy cafe. You suppose it works in your favor, but you can't focus. You drown it all out.

Your hand is still on the cup but the sticker has been left alone and forgotten, half peeled off, half still clinging to the plastic underneath the condensation.

The single word repeats itself in your mind, over and over and over again.

The entire time you're in class, you don't really focus on anything. You can't bring yourself to listen to whatever your professor is saying, not after what Hyunjin and Seungmin told you earlier. At some point, your friend has to nudge your shoulder to bring you back down to earth when usually, you're the one who has to remind Hyunjin to pay attention. Class ends soon enough though; time tends to fly by when your mind is lost elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asks with his bag slung over his shoulder, slowing down his steps to match your speed as you walk out of the lecture hall together.

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. "Nothing's wrong. I was just tired."

"You wanna grab dinner with me and Felix?"

Any other day, you would've agreed in a heartbeat. But today, you want to be alone. Sometimes, you'd rather wallow in your own misery than settle for a temporary distraction.

You're still stuck on the conversation from earlier, on the small detail that Hyunjin and Seungmin had let slip in the cafe.

Dove.

His dove.

Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Perhaps it's only a nickname that he's assigned to you out of mere platonic fondness, but it makes you conscious about the dove on your own wrist nonetheless, the one that you feel compelled to hide from your friends underneath your long sleeve.

"No, it's okay," you tell Hyunjin. "I'll just go home and sleep it off."

"Okay. I can walk you for a bit," he says. "Just wait with me here. Minho's coming to give me back something he borrowed."

"Minho's coming?" you ask too quickly for it to sound casual. There's a panicked edge that you can hear in your own voice, though you don't think Hyunjin picks it up as he unlocks his phone and types something on the screen.

"Yeah, he was at the library. He's coming over right now, should only be a couple minutes. Then I'll walk back with you."

You shift on your feet uneasily, but you cover it up by rubbing your hands on your arms to pretend like you're just cold. There's no excuse that you could think of that would justify why you can't stand here with Hyunjin for just two more minutes, without giving it away the fact that you're avoiding Minho.

You take in a quiet breath, put on your best brave face. Casual, nonchalant. It's just Minho. Just Minho...

He comes up from behind, where you can't see him. A warm hand gently lands on your shoulder, and it takes everything not to shy away from his touch. It takes even more not to lean into his side.

You've missed it. You've missed him.

"Hey." He smiles at you while Hyunjin only gets a nod in acknowledgment.

"Hey." You return the smile, though you're sure you look a little rigid. You can tell there's an inkling of confusion in his eyes when he senses that your energy is off, but you're thankful he doesn't comment on it, at least not in front of Hyunjin anyway.

You don't notice the paper bag in his other hand until he hands it to your other friend with a simple Thanks, to which Hyunjin just nods along in a silent You're welcome.

"I was going to walk with Y/N for a bit and then meet Felix for food," he tells Minho. "You wanna get burgers with me and Lix?"

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry, I had a late lunch. I'll take the walk though."

You didn't plan on being alone with Minho today, even though you knew you had to talk to him eventually. You just thought you had a little more time, at least until you got your shit together and face him with a brave façade.

Minho's hand brushes yours the entire time you walk, and it's nothing if not confusing. It's unbearable, the way your fingers twitch with the urge to intertwine them with his.

It persists even after Hyunjin has waved you goodbye to you two and turned to head wherever he and Felix agreed to meet. You think Minho would hold your hand now that it's just you and him, but he doesn't. He lets your skin continue to brush, lets you suffer alone and wanting in your sunken disappointment.

It has very little to do with him and everything to do with you, the conflicting thoughts inside your head piling up one by one the more time you spend in his presence.

Dove, the brief display of jealousy at Yeonjun's party, the way he looks at you sometimes that you can't really decipher the meaning behind, how he kisses you so tenderly that it can't possibly be strictly platonic. You want these things to all mean something, and yet...

You want him to hold your hand, but you know you'd wave it off if he tries to reach for your fingers. You want him to stop you right then and there to kiss you breathless, just as he had that night two weeks ago, even though you're sure you'd only dodge his lips and push him away. You want to stay, you want to leave. You're terrified of things changing, but you wish that something, anything, would be different for him; that you aren't the only one who's spinning out of control. You love him, but you wish you didn't.

Eventually, Minho asks, "You okay?"

It's not until now that you realize this is the first time you've ever been this quiet around him. You purse your lips, glancing down briefly at your feet as you keep on treading the rest of the way home. "Yeah, all good. I'm just tired," you tell him, visibly unenthusiastic despite the smile you try to fake. "I just need to sleep it off."

"The project stressing you out?"

"I guess, yeah."

"And here I thought maybe you were avoiding me," he says, half a joke, half inquisitive. "Were you?"

"Was I what?"

"Were you avoiding me?"

You give him a weird look, one that's meant to be dismissive and call his question ridiculous even though you know you've been caught. And maybe it's the over-the-top glance that you throw his way and the way your pitch goes higher when you reply, "Why would I be avoiding you?" that makes him stop walking.

On the other side of the street, there's a couple of kids in high school uniforms, exchanging shy glances and sharing fond giggles.

Minho calls your name softly, and it's like you're just waiting for the ball to drop. You don't want to turn back and look at him, but what other option do you have? What else is there to do?

You can't decipher the expression on his face. He's still calm, but the air has turned serious, the silence of the mostly empty streets surrounding you only serves as the soundtrack of your impending heartbreak. The tender and innocent laughter fades away when young love moves further and further from where you stand. "What?" you ask with faux nonchalance as you look at him, another attempt at stalling. Biding your time even though a few more minutes aren't going to do any good for your case.

Anyone with half a braincell could tell that clearly it's not the truth, let alone someone who has learned to read you better than the back of his hand. He doesn't look like he believes you, though he doesn't push it, much to your surprise.

"Okay," he says after a moment of studying you, and this should be the part where you heave a sigh of relief because he's letting you off the hook for now, but your chest doesn't feel lighter at all. Your head is clouded with dread, with the anticipation that you're only delaying the inevitable.

You walk the rest of the way in awful silence, because you know that he knows something is wrong. You try your best to appear composed, but he sees right through you. You know he does.

You must look like a frightened animal, one that's about to take off running any second now.

When you reach your building, Minho is quick to keep you with him before you can make up a lame excuse and bolt.

"Hey," he starts, his voice so impossibly gentle that it hurts. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Heavier and heavier, it weighs you down until you feel like your chest is going to collapse. The nerves gnaw on you, clawing into you until you feel your heartbeat quicken, the overwhelming dread simmering low in your belly.

"I know," you say, but deep down, what you're really thinking is, Not this. This is the one thing I can't tell you.

"Is everything okay?"

It's the way that Minho's got his gaze set on you with those deep brown irises, the concern so apparent in them that it hurts you. It's the way he looks like he wants to reach out and touch you - a comforting hand on your shoulder or your back like you're so familiar with - but he has to hold himself back or you might slip away.

It's him, how he always puts you first, how he cares about you in ways that you've never been cared about before. He understands you, he sees you. It feels like it could be love if you let the lines blur just enough.

Is love supposed to hurt? Like this?

Maybe it's not that you don't know how to hold love. Maybe it's because you're not meant to hold it at all. Insignificant, unlovable.

And... it's the reminder that cuts through the dread like the sharpest knife.

You leave his question unanswered, because nothing is okay and you can't tell him any of it. You can't lie to him either, because it's the last thing that you want to do to him.

Instead, you ask, "We're good... right? We're okay?"

"What do you mean?"

You gesture between the two of you, though you're not sure what that's supposed to signify. "Just...," you trail off for a second, hesitant. "Nothing's changed, right?"

Minho doesn't answer right away. He looks at you for a moment, searching for something in your eyes that you can't tell if he's able to find.

He nods, seemingly wistful as he says, "Nothing's changed."

He seems unsure about it, at least more than he was just a few weeks ago when he told you the same thing in your apartment with his fingers wrapped around your wrist. The tug between his brows - though barely noticeable - tells you as much.

Is it because something is different now? Or does he only sound uncertain out of concern, because of you and how you're acting?

Then he continues, "For me, at least."

And there it is.

It's the confirmation this time around that turns you inside out so his simple words could cut into you.

You swallow thickly, put on a smile like you're pleased with his answer even though you're trying your hardest to stop yourself from shaking. Whatever energy you had left is instantly drained from you just because of a few words.

Your sentences get smashed together, tangled up like barbed wire and they only make you bleed when you try to pull them apart. All your nervous tics coming out to play despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. A frustrated hand running through your hair, gripping at the roots a little harshly. Your bottom lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes turning glassy for a split second before you blink the moisture away, because you can't let Minho see you like this. See you trying to keep your pathetic heart intact while he's none the wiser.

He's fine. And unlike you, he's going to be okay when this is over.

Unavoidable and inevitable, the end will come whether you like it or not. You're the only one who won't make it out unscathed, and it will only shatter you into more pieces the longer you drag this out.

Just rip the bandaid off. Salvage whatever you can. Stop digging the grave even deeper for yourself.

One second, then two, then three. You don't speak until you have enough faith that your voice is even enough to carry out a few sentences.

"Okay, uhm... I think I need some time for myself. We should..." But it isn't, and you crack halfway through. The sound is deafening to your own ears. "We should take a break. We should stop this."

Minho doesn't question if you mean the secret between the two of you, or your friendship entirely. Instead, he asks, "Why?"

"I told you." You clear your throat. "I need time for myself."

You can't tell what he's thinking, but the knife twists inside of you nonetheless.

He takes a step closer, you take a step back.

You watch as his face falls, and the same feeling mirrors itself within the confines of your ribcage. Your heart drops at the sight of his eyes, deep brown irises stained with a little confusion, then a little hurt though it lasts for only a few seconds. The slight slump of his shoulders, the absence of the familiar playfulness he always sports when he's with you.

He blinks.

"Time for yourself, or time away from me?"

You say nothing.

You don't address his question directly, and your reluctance to do so is a loud enough answer in and of itself. "Why does that matter? What's the difference?"

"It matters if I did something to upset you."

"You didn't."

"Okay. So?"

This is confusing, because he's not letting you rip the bandaid clean off and you don't know why. "Nothing's changed, right? If it didn't mean anything to you, why can't you just drop this?"

Minho is quiet for a beat. His eyes are searching again, but this time, you think he finds something.

Everything is still and you hate it - the silence of the streets, the scrutinizing orange glow of the streetlights as if they're watching the scene unfold, even the innocent cat that's sitting by itself on the balcony on one of the floors higher up. You hate all of it.

"I never said it didn't mean anything," he tells you.

It makes you a little angry for some reason, and there's enough red to cloud your vision because his words are contradicting and you're tired, you're so exhausted that you can't focus on what it is that he's really saying.

"So you lied to me?"

"I've never lied to you."

"I asked you before and you said nothing's changed. Now you're saying whatever this is didn't not mean anything. Make up your mind."

It gets redder when he keeps his eyes fixed on you, still so calm despite the frown that has returned to its place between his brows. Still so collected, while you're being pulled apart at the seams.

The ball doesn't drop the way you expect it to. It keeps falling so insufferably slowly, hanging over you like it's mocking you for being stupid, like it's milking every second of suspense to make you implode.

Until Minho speaks next and suddenly, it feels like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. His voice, still so soft and tender. His eyes, reading something in yours that you can't bear to admit out loud.

"You really don't see it, do you?"

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.06.2024]

[mononijikayu]

chapter (2) — the feels

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 4.4k words.

NOTE: everytime i look at the drafts for this, i get butterflies. this story is really fun for me to write no matter what. i genuinely enjoy exploring the dynamics. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do!!! anyway, sukuna is definitely a simp for reader. like genuinely, he's down bad. but tbh so is reader. they're matching each other in everything!!! but well.....are they dating? who knows?

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on;

masterlist

hey lover! series

HE DIDN’T EXPECT TO COME ACROSS IT. But it was that one afternoon on his day off, while Ryomen Sukuna was out running errands, he found himself finding a piece of you. It was just a regular day for him, one where he indulges himself as he strolls through the supermarket, casually picking up snacks and drinks he wanted. 

He doesn;t get to do it often because of how busy he is. But when he has the time, he indulges it and enjoys it a lot. He thinks if you were with him, it would have been more enjoyable, though. You liked going and doing mundane things like this, as much as he does. He noticed that a lot since you both were always going out and eating together after shoots in Tokyo.

It’s been a few weeks since Jujutsu Kaisen Season 1 did the final reshoots. And he thinks he missed you. You both texted a lot last night, sure. But it’s a different thing when you both are together.

But right now you are enjoying the holiday you’re taking. And judging from the photos you sent him so far, you were happily enjoying it. From what you told him last night, you said you were waiting for your flight so you could visit family back home. You won't be back in New York until maybe next week.

Ryomen Sukuna could only sigh at himself. He has become so fond of your company that he can’t help but crave even more of it. He supposes that it’s just how good you were with him, how good for him. He hadn’t really had anyone be that good to him, he supposed. You’ve just brightened up his day to day, even if it was just to think of you. 

As he turns the corner into the magazine aisle, something catches his scarlet eye and he stops— it was one of those glossy magazines, one that were for high fashion brands. In the front of its bright poppy cover featuring the ever beautiful shining you with a stunning smile, the headline reading, “Y/N L/N: Rising Star of Jujutsu Kaisen!”

His first thought is a mix of pride and mischief. He couldn’t help it. You were everywhere. And he just can’t help but feel warm about it. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he mutters to himself. Grinning, he picks up the magazine, flipping through it.

I should probably promote this. Doll worked hard on this, hm? he thinks, already plotting a plan. He pulls out his phone and goes live on social media, knowing his fans would be eager to join him for this impromptu session.

“Hey, everyone! So, I’m at the supermarket, and guess what I just found?” he announces, holding up the magazine for the camera, your face shining brightly on the cover. “Really pretty picture the editor chose really. I really love this one. I think everyone can agree!”

The chat explodes with comments.

“OMG, Y/N!”

“IS THAT A MAGAZINE?!”

“CAN WE GET A CLOSE-UP?!”

"MY WIFEEEEE SHE LOOKS SO GOOD!"

"CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"OH MY GOD, ONE CHANCE PLEASE PLEASEEE Y/N"

Sukuna chuckles, basking in the chaos as he starts to read some of the article aloud, his voice teasing. “Let’s see what the article has to say about my favorite rising star. Let’s read it together.” he begins, pretending to be a serious news anchor.

“‘Y/N has taken the entertainment world by storm with her captivating performances and undeniable charm, both on screen and on stage.’ Wow, they really nailed it, huh?” He glances at the camera, a playful smirk on his face. “They must’ve been taking notes from me. I mean, she is spending time with the best.”

The comments continue to flood in, fans egging him on.

“THIS IS SO CUTE! SUKUNA, KEEP PRAISING YOUR WOMAN OMG!”

“Please stop, I’m dying! He’s this love struck?”

“Is he flirting with her through a magazine?”

"He's never beating the 'im obssessed with y/n' allegations omg???"

"If my partner isn't like this, i genuinely don't want him, you guys???"

"How is Sukuna real? Like, how is he the only man to ever exist?"

Sukuna can’t help but lean into the banter. “Oh, it gets better. ‘Her recent work in Jujutsu Kaisen has captured the hearts of many, including veteran actor and co-star Ryomen Sukuna.’” He pauses dramatically, pretending to think deeply. “How does that feel? Being able to capture me, Y/N?”

The comments explode again.

“OH NO HE DIDN’T! RYOMEN SUKUNA, YOU’RE INSANE FOR THIS?????”

“IS HE FLIRTING?! GUYS GUYS CHAT IS THIS REAL????”

“THEY ARE SO CUTE TOGETHER! EVEN WHEN THEY’RE APART OMG”

"GOD PLEASE GIVE ME SOMETHING LIKE THIS PLEASE!!!"

"HIS EYES ARE JUST SO FULL OF LOVE WHILE STARING AT HER PICTURE OH MY GOD IM GONNA THROW UP???"

"HE'S DEFINITELY BUYING THE MAGAZINE AND STARE AT IT FOR A WHILE CAUSE???"

He continues reading, “Known for her ability to bring depth to her characters, Y/N is also a self-proclaimed cat mom.” He raises an eyebrow, grinning at the camera. “Noodle better watch out; he’s not the only one who’s going to be in the spotlight!”

Sukuna reads a little more, then leans back, looking directly into the camera. “Honestly, if you’re not following her yet, what are you doing? My doll’s the star of the century! She’s talented, funny, and—” he pretends to whisper with a grin. “—way cuter than I am.”

The comments go wild, with fans practically screaming in excitement.

“HE SAID IT! HE CALLED HER MY DOLL???”

“HE’S SO SUPPORTIVE OF HER OMGGGGGG!!!!”

“CAN YOU GUYS JUST DATE ALREADY?!”

"THEY'RE DEFINITELY DATING GOD IM JUST???"

"GIVE US THE CONFIRMATION FOR THE WEDDING ALREADY???"

"I SHIP I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIPPPPPP!!!!"

As he wraps up the live session, Sukuna flashes a charming smile. “So, go pick up this magazine, check out Y/N, and maybe throw in a little love for me too while you’re at it. And don’t forget to tune into the next episode of Jujutsu Kaisen! See you later, everyone!”

With that, he ends the live stream, still chuckling to himself as he walks through the store, clutching the magazine. Little did he know, this playful moment would send fans into a frenzy, cementing your duo’s chemistry even further in the eyes of the public—and leaving you with a smile when you catch wind of his little stunt.

Later that evening, you’re lounging at home, scrolling through your social media feed, when you notice your notifications blowing up. Curious, you tap on your profile to find a flood of comments and tags about Sukuna’s recent live stream.

“Did you see Sukuna’s live? He was reading that magazine about you!”

“I’m crying! He’s so supportive! #Y/NandSukunaForever”

“He basically said he’s in love with you. Can you two just get married already?”

"Y/N, please. give him a shot already. That man is too in love with you."

"This man is doing promos for you like he's trying to save the planet. He's a good man, Savanah!"

"He's literally crazy about you, like??? Stopping in a supermarket to do a live to promote your magazine??? He's in love with you???"

You can’t help but grin, your heart racing at the thought of Ryomen Sukuna casually promoting you to all his fans. You scroll through the clips of his live, laughing at his playful banter and over-the-top expressions. You couldn’t help but just feel happiness beyond comprehension, knowing someone takes care of you even from afar.

Suddenly, a direct message pops up from him. Did you catch the live, doll?

You quickly type back, I did! You’re ridiculous! I can’t believe you read that whole thing.

His reply is immediate. Had to promote my favorite, cutest rising star! Can’t let Noodle take all the love in this three soul family, don’t you think?

You chuckle, imagining Sukuna strutting through the supermarket, holding your magazine like it’s the Holy Grail. What’s next? Are you going to host my fan club?

A few moments later, he replies, Absolutely! First meeting will be at our next sushi date. Wear something nice, doll.

Your cheeks flush at the thought. Then you better look sharp too, bub.

You just know he was smirking when he sent you the reply. When you opened it, your face turned even redder. Oh, of course, doll. I like making sure I look pretty enough to get your praises and kisses. You’re my doll, after all.

You could feel butterflies for a moment, and for a good while, you were just trying to keep yourself together. You couldn’t look like this while you were having dinner with your parents.

As the conversation continues, you can’t help but feel a warm flutter of excitement. Not only is he supporting you, but he’s also finding creative ways to keep the teasing and flirting alive in front of everyone.

The next day, you decide to take advantage of the buzz. You ended up in a book store where they had your magazines. You post a cute selfie of yourself holding the magazine, your expression playful and bright.

Thanks to my bubs @RyomenSukuna for the promotion! If you haven’t checked out this issue yet, what are you waiting for?

Almost instantly, your comments explode.

“YOU LOOK AMAZING! WE STANNNNNN”

“GET IT, GIRL! WE LOVE TO SEE IT!!!!”

“HE’S NOT WRONG, Y/N IS A QUEEN!”

"Y/N DOMINATION FR FR!!!"

"SUKUNA CAN YOU FIGHT CAN YOU FIGHT SUKUNA???"

"NAH CAUSE IF Y/N AND YOU AREN'T TOGETHER, IM SHOOTING MY SHOT!!!"

A few hours later, you see another tweet trending: “Sukuna’s magazine live should win an award for Best Promotion. Guys, if you’re not doing this for your girls, we don’t want you!”

You can’t help but laugh, picturing him reading through those thirsty tweets like a comedic genius.

Later that evening, as you prepare for bed, your phone buzzes again. It’s a video from Sukuna, looking slightly mischievous.

“Hey, everyone! Just wanted to follow up on my earlier live stream. The magazine is flying off the shelves, and I’m not saying it’s all because of my charming face, but… Okay, it’s mostly because of Y/N. You know how it is. Now, don’t just stop there—go buy that issue! And let’s be real, you’re doing it for me, but mostly for her! So, keep giving my doll all your love, okay? Thanks everyone! I’ll see you in the next live tweet for Jujutsu Kaisen!”

He winks at the camera, and you can’t help but smile. He’s just so endearing when he gets into these promotional modes. The next few weeks, it’s all the media could talk about.

They just catch wind of the buzz surrounding your magazine feature and Sukuna’s live stream. They keep getting more and more curious about you and Sukuna. After all, both of you were a mystery to them. 

You’re both invited to a morning talk show to discuss the recent developments, and you can already sense the excitement and chaos that awaits.As you both sit on the couch, the host teases you both about the “flirting” and “couple energy” that everyone seems to be picking up  on.

“You two are definitely giving off some serious vibes!” the host says, leaning in. “Sukuna, what do you have to say about the ongoing speculation?”

Sukuna grins, leaning back. “I mean, can you blame them? Who wouldn’t want to be with someone as talented and cute as Y/N? Can you blame everyone for being as dazzled about her as me?”

The audience erupts into cheers, and you can’t help but blush.

“Okay, but I’m just grateful for him.” you chime in, trying to regain composure. You grinned at him. “Sukuna’s just really is such a great supportive soul for me.… And such a darling to me. You always are, aren’t you, bub? Dramatic too, but well. Love you all the same!”

“Dramatic? Me? Never.” he replies, feigning innocence while smirking. “I’m just here to make sure everyone knows who the real star is. And well, who the real star of my day to day is, don’t you think?”

The banter continues, and by the end of the show, your dynamic has captured the hearts of viewers everywhere. Social media is ablaze with clips of your interview, further fueling the speculation and excitement.

As you leave the studio, you can’t help but think about how much fun this whole experience has been. The teasing, the playful banter, and Sukuna’s unabashed support have created a whirlwind of excitement that you never expected.

Later, you check your phone one last time before bed. A new tweet catches your eye: “Sukuna and Y/N have officially made it onto my ‘favorite couples’ list. The world needs more of this!”

With a smile on your face, you finally drift off to sleep, dreaming of what other adventures await you and Sukuna in this unexpected and thrilling journey together. 

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE STILL SLEEPY. But well, what could you do? Life goes on, with how your schedule is today. The day of the big fashion show had finally arrived, and excitement buzzed in the air as you and Sukuna prepared to strut down the runway.

The energy backstage was palpable—models hurrying to and from makeup stations, designers giving last-minute instructions, and the rhythmic clack of high heels against the glossy floor echoing in the room.

Sukuna, leaning casually against the wall, shot you a knowing glance. He had that smirk on his face, the one that hinted at his unshakable confidence. He was effortlessly cool, and you couldn't help but feed off that energy.

The theme of the show was glamorous rebellion—a fusion of elegance and edge, where bold designs and striking details were the focus. You were dressed in a breathtaking ensemble that turned heads even before the show began.

A sleek, figure-hugging dress with shimmering embellishments, its dramatic cut-outs giving you just the right mix of sophistication and daring. The heels you wore? Absolutely lethal—sky-high stilettos that elongated your figure, giving you the sensation that you could conquer not just the runway, but the world.

Meanwhile, Sukuna, in a custom-tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his muscular build, was the perfect counterpart. The deep crimson of his suit jacket contrasted sharply against his black shirt, and the subtle metallic details gleamed under the runway lights. He exuded power and charisma, each step deliberate and commanding.

As you both stepped onto the runway, the atmosphere changed. The lights flashed in rhythm with the music, casting you and Sukuna in a dazzling, almost surreal glow. The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement infectious.

The music pulsed through your veins, and with Sukuna by your side, you felt invincible. His smirk widened as he caught a few admiring gazes from the audience, and with each stride, the energy between you both grew, palpable and electrifying.

Each step was flawless. The click of your heels against the runway, perfectly timed with Sukuna's strides, created a symphony of dominance.

You could feel eyes on you, admiration and awe blending with envy, but none of that mattered. In that moment, it was just you and Sukuna—a force to be reckoned with. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a mischievous glint playing in his gaze, as if daring you to outshine him.

But this wasn’t a competition. It was an effortless partnership, the two of you ruling the runway together. Every turn, every pose, was perfectly synchronized, as though you had rehearsed this a hundred times over.

The lights continued to flicker, cameras flashing from every direction, immortalizing this moment. And as you reached the end of the runway, Sukuna extended his hand to you in a gentlemanly yet teasing manner. You took it, lifting your chin slightly, knowing that together, you had owned the night.

But halfway down the runway, disaster struck. One of your heels snapped, sending you wobbling dangerously to one side. You gasped, struggling to maintain your balance as you tried to recover. Just as you thought you might tumble, Sukuna swiftly reached out, his grip firm around your waist.

“Got you, doll!” he exclaimed, pulling you closer to him as he steadied you. The crowd gasped, and in that split second, you realized you were more grateful than embarrassed.

With a quick wink and a playful flourish, Sukuna helped you regain your composure, but the damage was done—your heel was officially broken. You could feel the adrenaline rush as you both finished the walk, the crowd cheering wildly, clearly enamored by the unexpected moment.

After the show, backstage was a flurry of activity. You hopped on one foot, trying to assess the damage to your broken heel when Sukuna, still riding the high of the show, turned to you. “You know, you could always go for a more comfortable look, doll.” he joked, gesturing toward his own stylish shoes.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “And give up my fashion moment? Never!”

But as you tried to walk towards the exit, it became clear that you weren’t going to make it far without some help. Sensing your struggle, Sukuna stepped in, effortlessly scooping you up into his arms.

“Let’s get you to the car, fashionista.” he said with a playful grin, carrying you like a princess, drawing surprised looks from the crew and other models.

As you both exited the venue, a photographer snapped a picture of the moment. You could hear the clicking of cameras as people captured the scene—Sukuna, the effortlessly cool actor, carrying you, the fabulous rising star.

That single picture ended up circulating online like wildfire. The caption read: “Is this the most romantic moment of the fashion show? Sukuna carrying Y/N after her heel broke!”

The fan reactions were immediate and overwhelming.

“OMG, I can’t handle this cuteness! He genuinely loves her so much!”

“HE CARRIED HER! SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE, I CAN’T BREATHE!”

“Y/N is literally living my dream. Sukuna is such a gentleman!”

You couldn’t help but smile as you read through the tweets, watching the fan base collectively lose their minds over the moment. You glanced up at Sukuna, who was now scrolling through his phone, clearly amused by the frenzy.

“Look at them go, doll.” he chuckled, a mix of pride and mischief in his eyes. “They’re all acting like we just starred in a rom-com.”

“Maybe we should consider it, bub.” you teased back, leaning your head against his shoulder as he carried you toward the car. “I mean, we both get the same rom-com lead offers. We might as well try.”

“Hm, I’ll think about it.”

“You better!”

As you reached the vehicle, Sukuna gently set you down, but not before the paparazzi snapped more pictures, capturing the laughter and playful banter between you both. You felt like the luckiest person in the world, surrounded by glitz and glamor, but even more, you cherished these moments with him.

Later that night, as you sat together scrolling through the flood of posts about the fashion show, Sukuna turned to you, a smirk dancing on his lips. “So, you think I should carry you everywhere now?”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Only if you promise to be this charming every time.”

“Deal, doll.” he replied with a sly smirk on his face. “But only if I get a kiss each and every time.”

You returned his sly smile. “You drive a heavy bargain, you know?”

“Well, I like good compensation, doll.”

“Hm. I’ll think about it, darling.”

And just like that, another adventure in this whirlwind of a journey began, one where fans eagerly awaited every twist and turn of your ever-evolving story. 

The following days were a whirlwind of activity, with the aftermath of the fashion show still buzzing across social media. Every time you opened your phone, there were new memes, edits, and posts highlighting Sukuna’s chivalrous act of carrying you out. 

One particularly popular meme featured a split image: on one side, a picture of you in your stunning outfit with the broken heel, and on the other, a screenshot of Sukuna’s smirk as he effortlessly carried you away. The caption read, “When you break a heel, but your knight in shining armor has your back.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you scrolled through the threads filled with comments like, “Where do I sign up for a carry from Sukuna?” and “No, but I need someone to love me like this. I need someone to lovingly help me in my fashion emergencies!”

“Looks like you’ve become a trendsetter, doll.” Sukuna teased, plopping down next to you on the couch. “Maybe we should make this a regular thing—fashion shows and heel emergencies.”

“Only if you promise to always be there to catch me, darling.” you shot back, smirking.

As you both continued to scroll through the chaos, an idea struck you. “We should do a follow-up interview about the fashion show! Imagine how much the fans would love to hear us talk about it, especially the heel incident.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You think they’d want to hear about our dramatic moment on the runway? You falling apart and me swooping in to save the day?”

“Absolutely!” You nodded, enthusiasm bubbling up. “I mean, it’s practically a rom-com waiting to happen. Plus, we can spend time together and promote our upcoming work together!”

“Alright, I’m in. But only if you let me wear those ridiculous heels next time….so you know, you can catch me too, doll.” he grinned, nudging you. 

You laughed out loud. “Alright, darling. Let’s find you a pair when we go shopping today.”

“Oh, that’s going to be a challenge then.”

“Hm, why not? It’s fun when we’re together in challenges!”

The next day, you both headed to the studio for the interview. As you settled into your seats, the host couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw you both. “So, the world has been going crazy over your little ‘heel disaster’ at the recent fashion show. Sukuna, what was going through your mind when you scooped Y/N up?”

Sukuna leaned back with a playful grin. “Honestly? I just thought it was a great opportunity to show off my impressive muscles and save the day. Plus, someone needed to make sure she didn’t fall on her face in front of everyone. I’d do anything for my doll, right here, you know?”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “He’s so humble, isn’t he?Like, darling — come and get your credit too! It was more like a dramatic rescue scene, complete with the swoon-worthy soundtrack.”

The interview continued, with the two of you sharing laughs and stories about your experiences. Fans in the comments couldn’t get enough of the chemistry, throwing out heart emojis and excited remarks.

“Do you think you two will collaborate on a fashion line next?” one viewer asked, prompting a wave of excitement among the audience.

“Maybe we’ll do a ‘Y/N & Sukuna’ collection, won’t we, darling?” you said, leaning in. “You know, something chic but also… practical for when you break your heels!”

Sukuna feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “Practical? I’m all about the drama! But I could see us doing something fun. Maybe some ‘Sukuna-approved’ footwear that won’t break under pressure? I think you’d love that, doll.”

As the interview was winding down, the host leaned in with a mischievous smile and asked the question that everyone had been waiting for: “So, any truth to the rumors that you two are dating?”

You barely had time to process it before you and Sukuna exchanged a look. Without missing a beat, both of you burst into uncontrollable laughter, the kind where you had to clutch your stomach and wipe away tears. Sukuna’s laugh? A deep, rumbling sound that somehow made the entire situation even funnier.

“I mean, who knows?” you said, still giggling as you tried to regain composure. “We care a lot for each other, though. But, you know, that’s our business!” You flashed a playful wink at the camera, trying to keep things light, but it was clear you were having too much fun with the moment. "Though, who wouldn’t want a guy who carries you when your heel breaks? My darling here is great with helping me out.”

Sukuna, not one to let you steal the spotlight, leaned in closer to the camera with a sly grin, his voice dropping an octave as he added, “I mean, who wouldn’t want to go and carry you and take care of you, doll?” He tilted his head in mock seriousness. “I love caring for you.”

The comment section immediately went into overdrive. The fans couldn’t handle it.

“THE FLIRTING?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“STOPPP THIS IS TOO MUCH MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT.”

“If they’re not dating, then what's the real point of my life in this world, you guys?”

“Someone pls send help I’ve forgotten how to breathe.”

“Sukuna saying ‘I love caring for you’ like it’s casual?!? They’re married and I know it.”

“Can they just admit it already? WE KNOW.”

After the interview wrapped up, you both waved to the camera, still giggling, as the host thanked you. As soon as the cameras cut, your phones exploded with notifications. It seemed like every social media platform was on fire, fans spiraling into a frenzy over the playful banter.

There were memes of Sukuna carrying you like a princess, edits of the two of you in wedding attire, and screenshots of the moment Sukuna leaned into the camera like he was making a declaration of eternal love.

“I told you this would happen, bub.” you said, showing Sukuna the screen full of memes.

He glanced over and chuckled. “What, people can’t handle a little chemistry?” He shrugged nonchalantly, but you could see the hint of amusement in his eyes. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

“Well, I guess we’re just going to have to keep them guessing.” you replied, throwing him a teasing grin.

Sukuna leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “Or maybe we just keep giving them something to talk about.”

“Well, I love talking about you anyway.” You look at him with a smile. “Don’t you like doing the same?”

He pauses for a second, but grins. “But don’t you already know that?”

“Yeah, I do. I just like hearing it.”

“Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?”

You grin even wider at him. “Well, my favorite act of love are words of affirmation.”

As you walked out of the studio together, Sukuna looked at you with a smirk. “But you know, I think I could get used to this whole ‘carrying you’ thing. It really keeps the fans on their toes.”

“Oh, for sure.” you replied, nudging him playfully. “Just wait until they start shipping us harder.”

“Let them do their thing.” he said, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ll just keep carrying you around. I’m like a knight in shining armor, after all.”

You both laughed, knowing that the playful teasing and affectionate banter were only part of the adventure you were embarking on together. As the days went by, the trend only grew, with fans eagerly anticipating every new development in your story.

With each passing moment, the excitement around your dynamic seemed to intertwine your lives more and more, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something truly special.

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "Secure a Wife" (part 2)

First part here

Naturally, "Twilight eyes" stay on during his side mission with Franky. Then he bursts into Camilla's party, wounded and disoriented enough to mess up his introduction.

And thus... slightly different expressions from manga to anime.

In the manga, it's full-on Twilight eyes. Brow going downward to the center, focused and narrowed eyes. The anime has the first two, though as of focused eyes... they make use of animation to show he's so shaken he can't focus his eyes on one place. His slip-up does look funnier when he's trying to present himself as Very Put Together™ as he does in the manga, but I think it's funny either way. Also, I appreciate the small extra whump bone from the anime.

Continuing on the humorous aspect, he switches all the way to reassuring Loid eyes as he tells everyone how absolutely, definitely normal his situation is. No biggie. Just a head flesh wound. He sleeps those right off.

"Loid eyes" stay on as he continues his ploy. Nothing to see here, please continue, are you having fun, my dear wife whom I definitely did not meet just a couple days ago?

Those eyes keep up until Camilla tries to embarrass Yor in front of everyone with details about her "past job"... and here goes.

Loid eyes. He will show everyone how proud he is of his wife.

But then, slowly, his eyes don't look so strained anymore...

... until they're outright sad eyes.

The direct proof (along with the short flashback) that what Twilight says there is the truth for him: he doesn't judge Yor, instead, he honestly supports and praises her for her dedication and her strength.

And when he finishes his praise, he looks towards the others... and the audience doesn't get to see his eyes.

Yor does.

And the truth she sees in his eyes is enough to not only bring tears to her eyes, but to also stay with her and give her strength multiple chapters/episodes later.

This smile isn't the one he actually gave her. But it's the one she remembers.

(Wrong angle in the anime, but we can forgive that)

They leave Camilla's party, get attacked by the smuggling ring, Twilight knocks a few of them out and tells Yor to run for it, Twilight eyes on as he keeps himself alert for any possible attack.

Yor voices her worries about the well-being of his "patients"... and what else can he do but put on the Loid eyes. Which I'm actually sure weren't necessary with her, lol.

Unstoppable force (Yor believing everything she sees and hears) meets immovable object (Twilight suspecting everything and everyone).

Subtle Twilight eyes as he starts to question... well, his own judgment, at this point 😆

They get attacked, and Yor kicks a guy into another dimension before he can hurt Loid. And!

I would just really like to know what his thought process here was. This look is on the verge between "Loid eyes" and "real eyes". But this next panel/shot feels like it's closer to "real eyes".

He was actually amused by how far she kicked that guy, huh 😆

They kick a few more guys' asses, then Yor drops the "why don't we get married" question. Twilight is, understandably, shocked and confused. It's actually something he'd planned for, but it came unexpectedly and just so freely and willingly from Yor.

When his mind picks up from the shock, he puts on the thought process.

And we get investigative eyes.

Twilight accepts, gives her the best marriage proposal to ever grace a screen, starts with Loid voice for "Even in sickness, or in sadness," and switches to Twilight voice for "No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for each other."

Twilight eyes as he finishes his vows,

And... this, as he thinks "Until my mission do us part"

I want to make it clear that I completely doubt he'd already grown any feelings for Yor already. Probably the only thing he'd feel for her at that point was that he sympathized with her mental fortitude and willingness to sacrifice herself in order to protect and support someone she cared about. The pleasant face he has at the end could be merely his expression of relief that the mission was going smoothly.

But then, isn't that what becomes the foundation of the feelings he'll grow later? The relief that she is the kind of person who will protect the peace he fights so hard to maintain himself? A relief that will grow strong enough to lead him into revealing true parts of himself to her?

There's definitely a lot to take away just from the way Twilight's eyes are drawn, in any case.

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[tan1shere]

Slumber Party

Ellie williams x fem reader!

A/n: Hello my lovelies, first post on here (more active on wattpad) but thought I'd occasionally post here when I'm bored. If you have any requests at all they're definitely open! Also this is kinda short but I don't plan on making the next part as short. Enjoyyyy ☆°•

My masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend

Warnings: smut, (not in this chapter) read at your own risk (mdni) Dom but soft, protective, ellie! Reader is quite innocent, is very soft also. Cunnilingus (duh- also not in this chapter) your girlfriend in this is an asshole. Abuse, somewhat angst, crying. Lmk if there was anything else!

Pt 2 here! ~ pt 3 here!

Ellie hated Isabel, your girlfriend. She treated you horribly, and Ellie really hated when you'd bawl your eyes out over the phone to her whenever Isabel would storm out of your shared apartment. She hated the fact anyone would make you cry. She never liked seeing you unhappy. Isabel shared this hatred. She never liked you hanging around Ellie, even if you have known Ellie almost all your life. She would scold you after everytime you and her would hang out. You'd come back to the apartment smiling. "What're you smiling about?" You just smile more happy to tell. "Ellie she makes the funniest jo-" "I don't like you being round her Y/n." You would always stare blankly at her, struggling to find the words, leaving your mouth open while you ponder.

Today was not off to a great start. Ellie had just been over, you two were having such a great time. "I should probably get going squirt." She would flash her smile at you, ruffling your hair slightly, as she stood to go to the door. Ellie was a bit older then you, and come to think of it so was Isabel. Let's just say you had a thing for older ladies. (Only by like 6 years) You also stand up, seeing her out and saying goodbye. But as you open the door you're met woth those dark brown eyes. Isabel had just arrived back from work. She glares at the auburn haired girl, making her way inside. "Well hi to you too." Ellie scoffs then looks at you. "Text you when im home." You give her a small nod and a smile before she leaves to her car. You turn around to be faced with a stern Isabel. "You know how I feel about her being in our home. Especially when I'm not here." You never really talk back to Isabel you always apologize and go into the kitchen to make food. She was truly a bitch and she started showing her true colors the moment you two moved in together. You never understood what you would do so wrong. You made every dinner. Every lil food she'd want. The laundry. Just to please her. And although it'd work, it'd never last. "I'm sorry Iz.. She just really wanted to show me this art she was working on and in person. Nothing more I swear." She let's out a scoff. "Why should I believe you it's almost every day you spend with her. It's sickening and pathetic." You stare at her as she says that. She would always make you feel stupid. When in fact you were quite smart you knew what most things meant. Maybe not so much bedroom stuff. But you were book smart nonetheless. Speaking of bedroom. You were basically a virgin. You've kissed Isabel many times done a lil something here and there but it was definitely not much. So you were certainly not confident on that subject. Although Ellie would tell you all sorts of stories about the girls she's been with. It fascinated you to learn all these new terms and what everything was. "I promise to talk to you before hand next time-" She instantly cuts you off. "Why are you still standing here. Cook, I've been working all day." She spits going to your guys shared bedroom. You sigh doing so. And that was your life.

It was maybe a couple weeks after, you had felt like you were coming down with something so you decided that bed rest was the best thing. It was now 3 in the afternoon. You were sleeping in your bed when the door busted open. "What the fuck are you still doing in bed it's almost 4!" Isabel was home and not happy. You sit up a bit. "Yes I know I'm sorry bu-" She drops her bags. "This place is a mess, there's dishes out. Foods not even ready. Laundry is still in the hamper. What fucking else." You look at her softening your look. "Iz, I'm sorry- I woke up feeling horrid so I decided to stay in bed." She shakes her head. "Even when I have the worst headache known to man I still get my ass up and work. You know all that sweet money, I work for that. And you work here that is your job." This was one of the moments were you'd feel bad for yourself. Weak. Weaker right now considering you're sick. You look down at the sheets. "Are you even listening to me? You spoiled brat." She doesn't do what she does next often but when she does you know you're in the shit. She hits you. Hard. "Wonder why I have a headache all the time. It's you and your whiney voice. Look at how pathetic you are." She glares down at your drowsy figure. You feel tears finally sting as you had held them in. Refusing to let yourself be so weak, but you give in. Feeling overwhelmed with emotions right now. "What the fuck are you gunna be like when I go away in a few weeks huh? You better keep this place spotless you know about the cameras. I'll be watching you." Yes. The oh so lovely cameras. They're only in the kitchen, living room and laundry. The only places you slave away at. "I will iz I promise." She hums. "I'll believe it when i see it. I needa go out and grab some stuff. Make sure dinners ready when I get back." She says before getting her keys and leaving. You then sob. Letting it all out as you shakily grab your phone going to the only person who knows how to comfort you. Ellie.

When she arrives not long after, giving a honk. You go outside and get in the passenger seat. "Off anywhere?" You shake your head. "No that's alright. I don't want to get yelled at.." Ellie sighs. "Bub, you can't keep letting her treat you like this-" "if I left I'd have nowhere to go Els.." She keeps looking at you. "Yes you do. Mine." You let out a small breath looking down at your hands. "Everythings so messy." She nods, even if you can't see. "I know angel but my offer still and will forever stand. I think you should take it." You just wipe the small tears forming at your eyes. "How was your day?" She hates how you change the subject. She always has. She wants to talk about it with you more. Comfort you more. "Pretty easy going. Do you want a hug love?" You shake your head. "Its best if you don't come near me right now-" "I promise it's not gunna affect me if you cry. You know that." You nod. "I know, but I'm sick- thats why she yelled at me.." She furrows her brows. "She got mad at you because you weren't feeling well? What a fucking bitch." You sigh, in the midst of a slight cough. "Angel you should go back in and rest. Let me help-" You immediately shake your head. "She'd know you were there. I- I couldn't risk that." You always felt awful. Not because you got yelled at but because she would want to pick a fight with Ellie too. Ellie was older then Iz too, more mature. Never bought into her crap. "I'll make sure she doesn't yell at you, you really need rest you work your ass off-" You stop her talking. "I don't want her to try anything with you Els." She shakes her head. "She won't. I promise just let me make you some soup and tuck you in. Please, just that." You contemplate whether or not you should but you nod regardless.

She was making the soup trying to be as speedy in hopes she wouldn't bump into Isabel. "Here you go. Say you made it for yourself. I also cleaned a lil." She sends you a wink. And when she says a lil she means the whole lot. "Els, you seriously didn't have to." She smiles gently. "No but I wanted to. I also made something else. Knowing grump would be hungry when she gets back." You look at her so thankful. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you." She gives you a kiss on the head. "Call if you need anything else. I love you." She says while looking in your eyes. "I love you too Els." You respond sweetly. Oh how stupid you were to realize how INlove she was with you. But she plans to show you sooner or later. As she's the one you should truly, be with.

[jetii]

Good Graces

Chapter Two

Tags/Warnings: Fives being goofy, good old fashioned brotherly teasing, uh oh there's plot in this fic??

Chapter WC: 7,199

A/N: Tysm for the love on chapter one! I did a major restructuring on my taglist so if you're tagged in something you don't want to be, feel free to fill out the form, and I'll fix it next time.

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Senator Amidala's apartments are located in one of Theed's tallest buildings, on the highest floor available. The building is well-kept and decorated in the style that Naboo prefers, all ornate and gilded and luxurious. They're on the main floor of the apartment now, the Senator having excused herself with General Skywalker in tow for a brief meeting upstairs, leaving Fives, Rex, and the rest of the squad on the main floor. 

Jesse and Kix have taken up residence on the couches, and the others are scattered about the room, either seated or pacing, their attention on the windows. Fives leans against the wall near the stairwell, watching as the sun sinks low, bathing the sky in hues of gold, red, and orange.

It's been an uneventful day. The peace talks won’t begin until tomorrow, and Senator Amidala had spent most of the afternoon engaged in meetings with the Queen and the senior leadership of Naboo’s parliament. General Skywalker had accompanied her. Fives has been at her side all day, with Rex and the others on patrol, and nothing's happened. It's been quiet.

Esmé had barely spared him a glance. She'd seemed content to keep her distance, sticking to the Senator's side, and Fives hadn't wanted to push his luck. So, he'd stayed away. The most he'd gotten was a second of eye contact when the Senator had excused herself to her meeting.

He's still reeling a bit from their earlier interaction. He'd been half-convinced he'd ruined any chance he had with Esmé until she'd opened her mouth and made that little comment. Now that he knows there's a sense of humor beneath all that indifference, he can't wait to see what other things he can coax out of her.

And it's only a matter of time, really. There's not much she can do to avoid him, and the longer they're forced to be together, the harder it will be for her to keep up the act. All he needs is an opening. One slip-up. A crack in her mask. That's all it will take.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to tonight. Maybe he could talk her into having a drink with him, get her to loosen up a little. He may have stumbled over his words like a complete idiot this morning, but he’s been working on his material all afternoon. Fives has a couple of good ones he can pull out, and they should get her laughing. If he can manage that, then it'll be smooth sailing from there.

"I'm bored," Jesse complains loudly, dropping his head onto the back of the couch and letting his limbs go limp. He stretches his legs out and kicks his boots up onto the coffee table.

"What else is new," Fives replies absently, his eyes still on the window. He can just make out a ship in the distance, a tiny black speck in the sky. One of the senators arriving late? A civilian? It's too far away to make out any details. He watches it for a moment longer and then looks away. Probably nothing. "You're always bored."

"Because there's never anything to do," Jesse grumbles.

"That's because we're on guard duty," Kix tells him.

"Guard duty is boring."

"Boring is good,” Tup says. He sits on the other end of the couch, his helmet resting in his lap, a cloth in his hand. "Boring means nothing's going wrong."

"And when nothing’s going wrong, everyone stays alive." Kix shrugs. "I'm not complaining."

Jesse groans dramatically. He lets his head roll to the side and stares at Fives, his brows furrowed. "Please tell me you're not going to spend all week moping because Esmé hates you."

"She doesn't hate me," Fives says, bristling a little. He's not moping. He's...planning. There's a difference. "She's just—"

"Unimpressed," Jesse cuts in.

"Disinterested," Kix offers.

"Indifferent," Tup suggests.

Fives' frown deepens. He looks between them and folds his arms across his chest. "Are you done?"

They're all silent for a moment.

Then Kix speaks up again.

"Icy."

Tup gasps, a delighted smile stretching across his face. "Icy is good."

Jesse points a finger at him and grins. "It is."

"She's not icy," Fives snaps.

They're laughing now, and the rest of the squad has started to join in. Even Rex has cracked a smile, though he seems to be trying to hide it as he looks over his datapad. Fives glares at all of them and turns away, his cheeks hot. He can't help the indignation that wells up inside of him, even though he knows they're just teasing.

"What?" Jesse asks, holding his hands up in surrender. "We’re just saying, if you're gonna spend the week trying to get her to like you, you're going to have a hard time warming her up."

"I hate you," Fives sighs. "All of you. I should've volunteered for the perimeter shift instead."

There's a noise from the stairwell, and Fives' head snaps around. Esmé stands at the top of the stairs, her gaze flicking over the gathered men before landing on him. Her expression is unreadable, her hands folded in front of her.

He straightens immediately, his spine going stiff, his mouth going dry.

Shit. How long has she been there? How much had she heard?

Esmé looks away from him and makes her way down the staircase, her steps measured and sure. The long flowing dress she was wearing before has been replaced with a set of form-fitting civilian clothes, the dark fabric clinging to her waist and legs. The vest she wears is long enough to reach her mid-thighs, but he can clearly see the blaster hanging from the holster on her belt. Her dark hair is pulled back, a few strands falling over her forehead, and her eyes are hard and alert as she sweeps the room, taking in the squad. She doesn't say a word.

The men watch her, all of them falling quiet as she walks into the center of the room, her boots barely making a sound against the polished stone. Her eyes are sharp and clear as she meets each trooper's gaze in turn.

She doesn't seem impressed, her gaze narrowing on the few that aren't in full kit, and her frown deepens as she takes note of Jesse's feet propped up on the coffee table. He quickly puts his feet down and sits up straight. She watches him a moment longer before moving on.

She's not happy. Not that he really expected her to be. If there's one thing Fives knows about Esmé, it's that she's protective of Senator Amidala, almost to the point of paranoia. He supposes he would be too, if he were in her position. Being responsible for someone's life isn't easy, especially when that someone has a habit of attracting trouble.

He can't even count the number of times Senator Amidala's been targeted by enemies both foreign and domestic. She's managed to evade capture nearly every time, with the help of the Jedi, but he can see how it would wear on a person after years of it. No wonder Esmé seems to have developed a stick up her ass. He's pretty sure it's the only thing holding her together.

Esmé stops beside him and folds her hands behind her back.

"Is the perimeter secure?" she asks.

"Yes, ma’am," Rex replies. If he looks uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he doesn't show it, his voice as professional and polite as ever. "My men have done a sweep of the building and surrounding area. No signs of hostiles, and no indication that anyone has been here besides the cleaning crew.”

Her shoulders relax slightly at the reassurance, her expression easing. She doesn't look pleased, per se, but she seems less likely to strangle someone. 

Her eyes flick back over to Fives and linger on him for a long moment. He straightens instinctively, his chest puffing out a little. Her brows rise slightly, her lips pursing, and then she's looking away.

"Good," Esmé says, nodding. "There are rooms upstairs if you wish to retire for the evening. They've already been prepared."

The men don't move. They exchange a few glances, and a few of them shift in place, but no one takes her up on the offer.

Esmé's gaze flicks over to Rex. She waits, her eyes searching his, and then tilts her head towards the staircase, her lips pursed. Rex seems to understand. He nods.

“Dinner will be served in three hours,” she continues, as if nothing happened. "The dining hall is through that door. There are bathrooms off the hallway to the left of the stairs. Do not enter the third floor. If you require anything, I or one of the other handmaidens will attend to you.”

Her voice is hard, commanding, and the men are quick to obey. A few of them nod, and the others murmur their agreements. Esmé doesn't waste another breath. She turns on her heel and heads towards the entryway, her boots clicking against the floor. She's halfway across the room when Fives speaks.

"Hey, wait," Fives calls after her.

It's impulsive. A spur-of-the-moment decision, one he regrets the second the words leave his mouth.

Esmé pauses, her entire body tensing, and he can feel his brothers around him freeze. They all stare at him, their mouths agape, eyes wide. He sees Rex out of the corner of his eye, his head shaking furiously, and Jesse has a wide, manic grin stretched across his face.

"Yes?"

"I... Uh..." Fives clears his throat. He can't seem to remember the line he'd practiced in the mirror a hundred times before. Or the other dozen lines he'd planned for if that didn't work. He swallows. "Where are you headed?”

She tilts her head. "Why do you care?"

"I'm... charged with the safety of everyone in this building, ma'am," he says. It's a lie, technically. His job is only to keep the Senator safe, not the others, but it's close enough. He hopes she'll accept it. "It's my job."

She glances at him over her shoulder, her lips pursed. He's expecting her to call him out on his lie, to tell him to shove it, but she doesn't. Instead, she studies him for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Her gaze flickers briefly to his brothers and then back again.

"And?" Esmé asks.

"And," Fives says, lifting his chin, "I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but if you're going outside, I'm going to have to come with you. Security protocol."

It's a bold move, and he can tell the others think so too. Rex gives him a warning glare, and Kix opens his mouth, likely to say something to shut him up. Fives ignores them. He just holds Esmé's gaze, waiting for an answer.

She turns around fully and stares at him, her jaw working. Her eyes are fixed on his, and for the first time he can see the flecks of color among the hazel. He's so caught up in the details that he nearly misses the moment she decides, her expression going from carefully blank to irritated.

Then she sighs.

He feels his brothers collectively sigh along with her.

"Fine.”

Fives blinks.

"Really?" he asks. He glances over at Rex, who's got a hand covering his face. When Rex notices his stare, he shakes his head, his eyes wide, and Fives looks away.

"I suppose," she says, and he's almost certain there's a trace of amusement in her voice. "But be warned. I'm not one for idle conversation."

"Oh. Well, uh... That's alright.” He's quick to straighten, adjusting his belt and tugging at the collar of his blacks. "Me neither."

Another lie. Fives can talk for days if he wants to, and he knows she probably knows that, too. But as it is, she's agreeing to go outside with him, and he's not about to give her a reason to back out now. So if she wants silence, he can give her silence. Probably.

"If you insist," Esmé says. She inclines her head, beckoning him closer, and his legs move without his input. "Come on. I have places to be."

She gives him a once over, and then turns away, walking towards the entrance. Fives tears his eyes away from the sway of her hips and glances back towards the others. He shrugs helplessly. Rex shakes his head again. Tup gives him a thumbs up.

He can't resist a grin.

This was easier than he'd thought.

She's going to eat her words. By the end of the night, he'll have her laughing and chatting with him like they're old friends. Or, well. He's not expecting miracles. But a friendly conversation wouldn't be so bad, would it? Maybe some banter. A tease. Something. He's not picky.

"Don’t wait up,” he whispers, his hand cupping the side of his mouth. He gives the room a two-fingered salute and turns away, jogging after Esmé.

He can feel his brothers watching him, can practically hear the whispers and jokes they'll be making as soon as he's out of earshot, but he can't bring himself to care. It's not every day he gets a shot at a girl like this. And now that she's decided he's worth her time, he's not about to give up.

Esmé grabs a canvas bag from a hook on the wall and activates the door panel, stepping out into the hallway beyond. He follows her without a word, and she doesn't so much as look at him as the doors slide closed.

They don't speak as she leads him down the hall and into the turbolift, both of them standing as far away from each other as possible. Fives tries not to fidget, his fingers tapping against his thigh, his gaze fixed on the numbers slowly decreasing above the door. She doesn't look at him, and it's all he can do to not look at her.

She's still as pretty as the first time he'd seen her, though she looks a little more human in the dull light of the elevator, less like the goddess he'd been imagining. But that just makes her real, and that, in turn, makes him want her all the more.

He sneaks a glance at her, his eyes trailing down her body. The black pants cling to her legs and hips, the long-sleeve shirt underneath her vest doing the same. Her hair's messy, but it suits her, framing her face and drawing his attention to the curve of her neck. She's beautiful, and it's all he can do not to stare.

Fives tears his gaze away and fixes it on the wall, and his heart jumps to his throat as he sees the reflection of her watching him closely. She looks him up and down, her brow raised, and then looks away, her arms folded over her chest.

He forces himself to look away, his palms going sweaty. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

He'd been expecting the silence. Had thought it might even be nice.

He hadn't counted on being so hyper aware of her.

He'd wanted to impress her. Show her that he's more than just some clone trooper. And he'd thought the best way to do that was by being as casual and confident as possible. Now he's starting to think that was a mistake. She might not mind the silence, but he's going to lose his mind.

He has to say something, though he’s not sure what. He knows what he wants to say, what he's dying to say, but he also knows that it would be a terrible idea. He could ask her questions about herself, but he doubts she would be forthcoming. He could make a joke, or tell her a funny story, but he's not sure she would appreciate it. He could just stay silent, but that's a little too much like giving up, and Fives has never been good at that.

It’s the longest turbo lift ride of his life.

He's still trying to figure out what to say when the doors finally open. The lobby is empty, save for a lone security droid stationed near the main entrance. Esmé nods at it as she steps off the lift, and it waves back, its photoreceptors fixed on her and ignoring Fives completely. She heads towards the exit, her steps sure and confident, and Fives is quick to follow.

The air is cool as they step outside, moving past the troopers on either side of the doorway and into the courtyard beyond. It's a pleasant evening, the sky clear and darkening rapidly, the moon already visible overhead. It's a little colder than usual, a light breeze ruffling his hair, and he takes a deep breath, savoring the fresh air.

As soon as they pass the gate, Esmé turns left and walks briskly towards the city center, not even sparing him a second glance, and he’s forced to jog to catch up with her. 

By the time he reaches her side, she's already made her way halfway down the block, and the crowds of people milling about part for her like she's the Queen of Naboo herself. He's half-surprised they don't salute.

"I can defend myself," she announces, her voice firm.

Fives jumps. He turns to face her, surprised, and sees her eyes dart toward him before looking forward again. She doesn't slow down.

"Excuse me?" he asks, baffled.

She sighs.

"I said, I can defend myself," she repeats, enunciating every word as if speaking to a child. Her tone is sharp, impatient, and it's a clear reminder of just how much she resents having him tag along. "I don't need you."

"That's not the—"

"Don't insult my intelligence, please."

Fives bites back a snide remark and swallows hard, his throat bobbing. He can't help but be a bit offended, though. He hadn't even had the chance to finish his sentence. What is it about him that makes her so angry? What is it that he's doing wrong? He hasn't even said anything.

He has to remind himself that this isn't a personal attack. That she's just being cautious and defensive. It's not his fault she's so prickly.

Probably.

It's not a good look for him, regardless. He has to work harder to get her to warm up to him, or else this week is going to be torture.

"I have no doubt that you can, ma'am," he says. He keeps his voice light, careful not to show his irritation. He can play the nice guy. If that's what it takes. "You seem very capable."

"Then why did you follow me?"

"I..."

He stops. He hadn't actually thought about why. Not beyond his desire to spend time with her. But now that she's asking him, he can't figure out what to say. 

She’s right; it isn’t his job to look after her. His job is to stay in the apartment and keep an eye on things, not go on strolls around the city center. If General Skywalker had caught him, he would have had his head, and that was putting it lightly.

He has his moments of impulsivity and recklessness, but this isn't the same as jumping out of a moving speeder or challenging a fellow clone to a drinking contest. This is...stupid. There's no excuse, and no real explanation other than the fact that he's drawn to her, and that he just doesn't want to let her go.

But she's still watching him, waiting for an answer, and he can't tell her that. So he shrugs.

"It’s my job, ma’am. And it's not just yourself that you need to worry about," he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "People are desperate these days, and the city is packed with the peace talks. The last thing you need is a bounty hunter or some lowlife thug recognizing you as Senator Amidala's handmaiden. They'll do anything to get their hands on her, and they'll take anyone hostage to achieve that."

He's not exaggerating, not really. The GAR has a list of bounty hunters, mercenaries, and criminals who have taken an interest in Senator Amidala. Most of them are dead or incarcerated, but the few who remain have a long history of violence. There's a reason they assigned a whole squad to the Senator's security detail on top of the NSFG.

It’s also a very convenient excuse.

Esmé looks unconvinced, her mouth twisting slightly. She seems to know exactly what he's trying to do, and he can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at being caught.

But then, just when he's certain she's going to turn around and walk away, she sighs. Her pace slows until she's walking alongside him instead of two feet ahead. She doesn't look happy about it, but at least she's not storming away anymore. He'll take it.

"Is it that hard to believe?" he asks finally, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

Esmé glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her lips pursed. She takes a breath and looks away.

"No," she says, and then, quietly, "I know the lengths people will go to."

He's not sure what to make of her response, so he decides not to ask. They continue on in silence, this one much less tense than before, the sun sinking lower and lower, the sky shifting to the colors of a bruise. He can hear the sound of music growing louder the closer they get to the center of the city, and then a cacophony of noise.

They enter the market district, a large section of the city devoted to small shops and open stalls, the vendors calling out to passersby and hawking their wares. It's crowded, the streets packed with people, and Esmé weaves between them with practiced ease, leading the way.

He's not really sure what he's meant to do here. He can't exactly keep an eye on her and the crowd at the same time, and so he settles for following after her, keeping his gaze fixed on her figure, his body angled towards her and his hand resting on his blaster. 

The noise of the crowd is almost overwhelming, the conversations, the laughter, and the music drowning out everything else, and his focus narrows in on Esmé. He can't lose sight of her, not in a place like this, where a person could disappear within seconds.

Esmé stops, and he almost bumps into her again, but he manages to stop himself in time.

"What is it, ma'am?" he asks, peering over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the crowd for any threats. There are none, at least that he can see, but he keeps his hand on his blaster anyway.

"I'm just browsing," she says with a huff. She gestures to the stall in front of her. "You don't have to hover over me."

"I'm not hovering," he tells her, but when he shifts, his pauldron bumps against her shoulder. He flushes. "Okay, maybe I am. But—"

"I know," she sighs. "I heard you the first time."

"Right."

He watches her mouth twist into a frown, and he bites his tongue. This isn't how he wanted things to go. He should be charming, he should be funny, he should be making her laugh and smile, not making her more annoyed. She's not interested, and it's clear that his attempts are falling flat. His shoulders slump, his chin dipping towards his chest, and he takes a step back.

Maybe this is a lost cause. Maybe it's a mistake.

He's not going to stop trying, not yet, but...

Maybe Jesse was right. Maybe this is a hopeless endeavor.

"If you're going to stay, at least make yourself useful," she says. "Help me carry things."

"Oh," he says, a little startled. He hadn't expected her to actually ask for his help. "I mean, yes, of course."

He reaches out and takes the canvas bag from her. Their fingers brush against each other for the second time today, and it’s just as electric as the first. His heart leaps in his chest, his cheeks warming, and he can't help the smile that comes to his face. But then the moment is gone, and Esmé is pulling her hand away, moving from one stall to the next, leaving him to trail after her like a lost puppy.

The crowd shifts, the music changes, and Esmé stops every once in a while, inspecting the wares laid out in front of her. She's a quiet shopper, never stopping long enough for the vendor to engage her, finding what she needs efficiently and paying quickly. It's methodical. Practiced. And yet, Fives can see her eyes light up with interest whenever she finds something that catches her eye. There's a certain sort of appreciation to the way she runs her fingers over the fabrics, her lips parting slightly, her expression softening. It's the same look she had when she was cleaning his helmet.

She doesn't ask his opinion. He's not even sure if she's noticed that he's still with her, but she doesn't tell him to leave, so he stays, the canvas bag getting heavier and heavier with each new purchase.

Esmé's purchases seem endless, but practical. Meat, vegetables, a comically large loaf of bread, herbs, and even some sweets. She buys enough food for a whole squad, and he can't help but wonder why she would need so much. Is she shopping for the Senator's entourage? It's certainly possible, and yet... he's not sure. Esmé doesn't strike him as the type of person to waste time shopping for someone else.

He watches her reach out and touch a basket full of produce, her fingers tracing the edge of a plump, orange-skinned fruit. Her mouth is twisted into a slight frown, her brow furrowed, and he can see the cogs turning in her head as she stares down at the fruit.

"Look for the ones with the most color," she instructs him, leaning forward and grabbing one from the pile. She holds it up to the light of the lantern beside them and squints. "If you press on them with your thumb, they should be firm, but not hard. If it's too soft, it's gone bad."

Fives doesn't know what to say, so he just nods and mimics her, testing a few fruit for firmness. He doesn't have the slightest clue what he's doing, or how to tell which fruits are good and which aren't. He can tell that the ones he's picked are a little bit soft, and a lot green, and so he puts them back and tries again.

"Do you do this often, ma'am?" he asks. His hands move automatically, his eyes on the fruit and not her. "Coming down here, shopping for yourself."

"Call me Esmé," she mutters as she picks another fruit. He blinks in surprise, and he can’t hide the grin that spreads across his face. That’s progress. "And not since before Padmé was elected, no. We have staff who handle the household needs."

"Right."

He finds a good fruit, and he holds it up to the light, squinting at it. It seems fine, but he's not really sure what he's doing. Esmé plucks it from his hand and inspects it, her eyes narrowed, and she puts it into the bag.

"Why'd you want to come down here, then?" he asks. "Seems like a lot of work."

"Padmé wanted something special for tonight. Something Naboo. I offered to cook," Esmé explains, her voice a little softer. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm not usually in charge of cooking, but the chef is ill, and there wasn't anyone else I trust to do it right.”

Fives snorts. "Can't be that hard, can it? It's just food."

She shoots him an irritated look that would’ve made him shrink back in the past. But now, after everything, it only makes him smile wider. He's getting under her skin, and she's starting to talk to him. He'll take the small victories.

"Don't underestimate food," she warns him, and she shakes the fruit at him like a weapon, punctuating her words. "Good food is an art. Bad food is a travesty."

"Alright, alright," he concedes, holding his hands up in surrender. A chuckle escapes him, and he has to bite his lip to keep it in. "I get it. You know what you're doing. I won't question you again, Esmé. I swear.”

She huffs, but the corner of her mouth lifts in the beginnings of a smile. She turns away, hiding her face from him, and continues to inspect the fruit. She moves on from the orange ones and starts testing the blue ones.

He can't seem to wipe the grin off his face. It's not perfect. In fact, it's nowhere near the smooth, suave approach he's always imagined, and she's still mostly ignoring him, but it's...something. He can see it now, the little signs that let him know that she's not entirely opposed to him, even if she's a little irritated by his presence. And, well, he can deal with a little irritation if it means getting a smile out of her.

He can work with this.

Fives reaches for one of the blue fruits, and she smacks his hand away.

"Don't pick anymore," she grumbles. "You clearly don't know what you're doing."

"Oh, ouch," he laughs, shaking his hand out. It doesn't hurt, not really, but she hit him hard enough to sting. "You could be a little nicer, you know."

"You could be a little more useful," she retorts, and this time, her lip does curl up, and he knows, without a doubt, that she's teasing him.

"I'm carrying your stuff!"

"Yes, you are," she agrees, her tone mocking. She doesn't look at him, and instead moves down the line, inspecting the wares.

"Hey, now," Fives calls, following her, his steps quick. "I'm carrying your bag and doing my job, and I'm letting you hit me. I deserve some gratitude, don't I?"

“Gratitude,” she scoffs. She looks over her shoulder at him, her brows raised. "How about this: you be a good little trooper and go find some cheese, and I won't hit you again."

Fives gapes at her, his mouth dropping open, his brows rising high on his forehead. The audacity. The absolute gall. He's never met a woman like her, not in his entire life. He's not even sure he's ever heard a woman speak like that.

He should probably be angry, and a part of him is, but it's quickly eclipsed by the sheer delight he feels, the giddy, fluttery sensation that fills his chest. He can't help the breathless laugh that bubbles out of him.

Fives grins, slow and wide, and takes a step closer to her.

"Ma'am," he says as he leans forward to meet her gaze, "it would be my honor."

Esmé stares at him a moment longer, and then, just when he thinks he's done it, she rolls her eyes.

"I thought I told you not to call me ma'am," she mutters, the amusement shining through despite her best efforts to hide it. She gives him a shove with two palms pressed against his pauldron, and he stumbles back a step. “Go. Try not to fall on your face again while you're looking."

"Yes, ma'am," he says cheerfully. Fives ignores the glare she sends him, his smile growing, and he steps out of her reach before she can hit him again. He can't remember the last time he felt this...good. Happy. "I'll be back soon, then."

He heads in the direction she'd pointed and leaves her standing among the vendors. The crowd parts for him as he makes his way through the marketplace, and he can't quite manage to wipe the smile off his face, despite the looks he gets from a few civilians. He's still riding high, his chest warm and tight with anticipation, the fluttery sensation in his gut refusing to go away.

He can't believe it. She's actually talking to him. Even more than that, she's teasing him. Flirting with him, a little, if he's not imagining it. And he's pretty sure he isn't.

He can't wait to tell the others. They're not going to believe it.

The sun is starting to set, and the sky is a deep purple-red, the clouds painted with hues of pink. The music is getting louder, and the street lamps are beginning to flicker on, casting long shadows and warm light over the square. He can smell roasting meat, and his stomach growls. He hasn't eaten anything all day, and the scents around him are almost overwhelming. Maybe Esmé will let him try whatever she's making.

She's nowhere in sight. He can't even see her distinctive bun in the sea of people. He scans the crowd for a few moments before turning back to the shops. She's probably not going to let him try her cooking anyway.

He's not sure how long he spends looking for the cheese. Esmé didn't give him any details on what kind she wants or where he's meant to get it. For all he knows, there could be fifty different kinds of cheese on this planet. He wanders the market for a while, peeking into the stalls and storefronts, hoping to catch a glimpse of some.

He finally manages to locate the cheese stall, and he’s just holding up a block of some kind of sharp, white cheese when Esmé approaches him. She's walking quickly, her head down, and her hands are curled into tight fists.

The smile slips off his face when he notices the grim look on hers. Her hand wraps around his elbow without stopping, and he's forced to abandon his prize as she pulls him into a nearby alleyway and out of sight.

Fives goes without protest, his eyes scanning the crowd. Esmé presses him against the wall, and her hand reaches for her blaster, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. He follows her lead, his own blaster slipping into his palm.

She waits, her gaze locked on the crowd, and he's forced to wait with her, his heart pounding in his chest. He takes in the clear tension in the set of her jaw and the tightness of her shoulders, and a cold dread washes over him.

There's something wrong.

Fives swallows.

They stand in silence for a long moment, the noise of the market washing over them. Esmé is preternaturally still, her breathing slow and steady. She's still holding his arm in a vice grip, and he can't seem to look away from her.

She doesn't look afraid. Her eyes are sharp and focused, her brows pulled low over her eyes, and her lips are pursed in a firm line. He can tell that she's searching the crowd, her gaze flicking from person to person, and he has to wonder how often she does this. How many times has she been chased, or cornered, or ambushed? How often does she put herself in danger for the Senator?

The answer comes to him, and it's not a comforting one.

Fives peers around her and scans the crowd himself. There's nothing immediately threatening, but that does little to reassure him. There are too many civilians, too many places for someone to hide, and a thousand possible threats. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, his fingers twitching on his blaster, and he tenses, preparing for a fight.

Her hand shifts from his elbow to his shoulder. She pushes him back, pressing him into the wall, and leans in close, her breath warm on his neck. His throat bobs as she steps between his legs, her chest almost touching his. She's a warm weight against him, solid and unmoving, and she smells like the flowers in the courtyard.

Fives can feel his heart rate pick up, and it's not just from the impending danger.

She's so close. Too close.

"Bounty hunter,” she murmurs. Her voice is a low rumble in his ear, and her lips brush his jaw as she speaks. He stiffens. "Three meters, black clothes, gray scarf. Been following me for half a block. No sign of an accomplice."

The words are like a bucket of ice water. His mind clears instantly, and his eyes flick up, searching the crowd for the figure matching her description.

There are rules when dealing with bounty hunters. They're dangerous, unpredictable, and most of them have a kill count that could rival a battalion of troopers. There are a few that the GAR actively works with, a handful that are tolerable, but the others are a danger to everyone and everything around them. If one is here, that means they're after the Senator, or the Queen, or both.

Rex had prepared them for this possibility, but Fives can't say he was expecting it to actually happen.

In the crowd, a figure moves, slow and cautious, a head swiveling side-to-side, looking for something. They're wearing a thick black cloak and a hood, a scarf obscuring their face, and it's impossible to tell if they're human or alien. A hand reaches up and adjusts the hood, and then the figure moves on. 

The hunter isn't looking for a fight. They're looking for a target.

They're looking for Esmé.

Fives doesn't hesitate. He grabs her arms and turns, covering her body with his as he presses her back against the wall, shielding her from view. She doesn't make a sound, but he can feel her tense against him, her fingers digging into his shoulder.

She's so warm, and the soft curves of her body mold to him easily, her cheek brushing against his, her hair tickling his nose. She's small compared to him, his bulk almost completely hiding her, and her chest rises and falls rapidly against his, her heart pounding under his palm.

"Do you have a weapon?" he whispers.

"Blaster," she murmurs back, her lips moving against his jaw. "And a few other things. But it's too crowded. Don't want to start a panic."

He feels his brows raise. "What kind of other things?"

Her fingers dig into the spot where his shoulder meets his neck, and he winces. "Shut up."

There's a long pause as the bounty hunter makes their way down the street. Fives listens closely to the sound of their footsteps, keeping his head turned towards the marketplace, his hand resting on his blaster. When he can't hear them anymore, he slowly lifts his head and peers over the crowd, searching for the figure. He finds them a few moments later, their hood pulled low, their head angled toward the ground.

He keeps his eyes fixed on them as they continue on their path, and Esmé shifts, her head tilting back to rest against the wall, her chin brushing his cheek. She's a lot calmer than he'd expected. Most civilians would be screaming by now, but not her.

"How did you notice him?"

"His steps," she replies. Her voice is a quiet rumble against his skin, and her breath ghosts across his neck, making him shiver. "They're too measured. Too quiet. Everyone else is in a hurry."

"Clever girl," he says softly.

"Are you always this annoying?"

"No. Usually I'm worse."

She sighs, her hand shifting on his shoulder. He can feel her eyes on him, but he refuses to look. If he does, he's going to lose his train of thought, and they're not safe yet. He needs to keep his head, and she's far too distracting.

Fives clears his throat and focuses on the hunter. He watches them walk the length of the market and then disappear into the crowd, lost from view. He keeps his eyes on the space they'd been, waiting to see if they'll come back.

He counts to ten. Then thirty. And when the hunter doesn't reappear, he finally lets out a breath and relaxes. Esmé moves immediately, shoving him away and ducking out from under his arm, her eyes fixed on the entrance. She's still got her blaster drawn, her finger ready to pull the trigger. He holsters his own weapon and reaches for her, placing his hand on her forearm.

"It's alright," he says quietly. He gives her a gentle nudge and steps forward. "We can go now."

She doesn't seem to hear him. Her focus is fixed on the crowd, her body coiled tight like a spring, and she's not blinking, her eyes narrowed. She's not even breathing, and her knuckles are white around her blaster.

He's seen this look before. Too many times.

She's not a soldier, but he can see the training in her stance, the way her eyes sweep the crowd, her muscles flexing beneath his fingers.

She's not a soldier, but she knows how to handle a blaster, and how to defend herself, and she knows exactly what to do when a bounty hunter is on her tail. She's not afraid, even if she should be. It's almost familiar.

It doesn't make sense. She's a handmaiden. The most she should have to do is serve the Senator a cup of tea or fix her hair. She shouldn't be able to tell a bounty hunter from the crowd. She shouldn't have any reason to draw her blaster. She shouldn't be so used to this.

Something doesn't add up.

Esmé's grip relaxes slightly, and she lowers her weapon, her shoulders slumping. She takes a deep breath and leans back, her head tilted towards him, but she doesn't turn around.

He lets his hand slip from her arm, and he doesn't miss the way she shivers when his fingers graze her wrist. Fives takes a step closer, his chest brushing against her back, and her shoulders rise with another inhale. Her head turns slightly, her ear close enough that he can lean down and whisper, his breath tickling the shell of her ear.

"Hey," he murmurs. "You alright?"

She doesn't answer him.

He sighs. He's not surprised. She's been ignoring him all day. He's not sure why he thought she would be any different now.

Fives takes a step back and puts some space between them, folding his arms over his chest. He waits for her to speak, or to move, or do anything, but she stays where she is, her eyes fixed on the crowd, her mouth pressed into a firm line.

He's not really sure what to say, and so he decides not to say anything at all. If she wants to talk to him, she will. And if not... well, then he'll just have to try again.

After a few more minutes, Esmé finally sighs and holsters her blaster. She turns around and looks at him. Her face is as blank as ever, but there's something in her eyes, a hint of unease that wasn't there before. She nods once.

“We need to get back,” she says quietly, her mouth set in a grim line. "Now."

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[augustjustice]

you wanna feel how it feels (let's exchange the experience) 6/?

Part 5 | AO3

Rating: E | 5.5k (for this half of the chapter)

Tags: Bodyswap, Friends to Lovers, Slowburn, Getting to Know Each Other, Steve Harrington Has Absent Parents, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Disabled Eddie Munson, Disabled Steve Harrington, Class Differences, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Bisexual Eddie Munson

Summary: After the Spring Break from hell, Eddie and Steve become fast friends, with a possible hint towards something more��except they're never quite sure what the other is actually thinking. But maybe, just maybe, walking a mile in each other's shoes can lend them some much needed insight.

Notes: Mind the bumped up rating! Things get a tiny bit steamier here...but in the way only the bodyswap trope can.

As he turned to face the shower, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, a giddy thrill running through him. Having confessed to his own queerness–and discovering Steve’s as well–had certainly done a lot to quell his earlier fears. Especially since now he had Steve’s permission to handle his body however he saw fit–within reason, of course. Eddie had no plans to squander Steve’s trust by getting too handsy. 

…Besides, he would definitely notice if Eddie ended up spending a suspiciously long time in here.

Still, he couldn’t deny the clumsy excitement in his movements as he went to make quick work of Steve’s gym clothes. 

Taking hold of the hem of his t-shirt, Eddie peeled the sweaty garment roughly over his head. His gaze fell immediately to the thick patch of dark, fuzzy chest hair that came into view, his fingers itching to run through it. The athletic shorts were the next to go, dropped on top of the shirt, forming a pile that disrupted the pristine nature of the white bathroom floor. 

When Eddie reached down for the waistband of Steve’s underwear, a shiver went through him. His thumb grazed over the hard, smooth plane of Steve’s belly, the fine hairs of his tummy trail tickling Eddie’s skin. Once he had shimmied the elastic band down far enough, he let the white briefs fall to the floor, stepping out of them and kicking them off to the side.

He didn’t look down, not yet. After all, Eddie was trying very hard not to think about what he was suddenly packing just yet, well aware he didn’t have time to get hung up on every tantalizing part of this process. Any acknowledgment that he was likely going to get to touch Steve Harrington’s dick very soon was exactly the sort of thing that would stop him in his tracks, drive him to distraction. 

Crossing the bathroom, Eddie leaned over and turned on the shower, ignoring the way parts of Steve that were far thicker than he was rippled and jiggled with the movement. When he finally stepped under the spray, hot water sluiced over his aching muscles, and Eddie had to suppress a pleased moan from that alone. He grabbed the bar of soap from its perch along the wall, the clean, expensive scent filling the air as he began to suds up his hands.

Only then did he allow his head to dip, figuring he might as well get it over with and let himself take a long, hard look. With so much going on, the day throwing one obstacle after another at them, Eddie hadn’t gotten the chance until now to stop and really study Steve. 

…And definitely not like this.

As he’d always suspected, there were moles and freckles everywhere. Eddie counted a dozen before he’d even had a chance to register what he was doing and probably would have gotten caught up numbering them all if he’d had the time. His fingers ached with longing to trace lines between them, create constellations out of every beauty mark littered across Steve’s skin.

And though he had already gotten an eyeful, Eddie still took a moment to run his gaze over Steve’s bare chest. Water droplets made paths through the peaks and valleys of his muscles, nipples pert and flushed beneath that forest of fuzz. 

Sucking in a breath, Eddie caught his bottom lip between his teeth and then slid his hand downward. 

Steve’s chest hair was…soft, under his palm, softer than he would have imagined, his pecs just as taut and well-defined as they looked. Eddie circled his nipples, hesitant, as he worked the suds into Steve’s skin. He couldn’t help but picture how they would look with those piercings Eddie had teased Steve about, two little silver bars with baubles on either side.

Cautiously, he gave one peaked nub an experimental brush with his thumb. 

“Shit!” he swore, surprised at the jolt that simple touch sent through him. “Jesus H., Stevie, who’da thunk you were so sensitive?”

…Yeah, Eddie should definitely keep trying to talk him into the nipple rings.

It probably wasn’t absolutely required that he linger on washing Steve’s chest as long as he did after that…but Eddie was just being thorough! Wouldn’t want to miss a spot. 

Finally, he moved on, beginning to lather up Steve’s sides. 

A patchwork of uneven, slightly discolored skin met his fingertips, scars spidering upwards. Not quite as deep and sweeping as Eddie’s, but still matching, the shared damage they’d taken from the bats. Warrior’s wounds, one of many signs of how much Steve had survived over the years. 

And, like he’d said before, they didn’t detract in the slightest from Steve’s Adonis-like form. 

Eddie flexed his hands absently as he rubbed them over that puckered skin. Steve’s hands.

They were broader than Eddie’s own, palms thicker, fingers longer. Now that he’d had time to slow down and actually take notice, Eddie couldn’t help but clock all the little differences. 

He was missing the calluses that littered his fingers from years of playing guitar, but Steve’s hands were still far from the overly soft, prototypical rich boy hands you might expect. Instead, they were covered in their own pattern of calluses Eddie would be only too happy to memorize. Rough patches that told the story of years spent on the Hawkins basketball team, of the firm grip that had fought off monsters with nothing more than a baseball bat full of nails. 

Based on the stories he’d heard and the things Eddie had seen himself, he knew all too well that Steve’s hands were weapons. But they were also the same hands that shielded his friends from danger and ruffled Dustin’s hair, that picked the kids up when they were down and carried Eddie, barely breathing, to safety out of the Upside Down. 

It was a cliche, waxing rhapsodic about his crush. Still, as Eddie traced them carefully over that long stretch of scar tissue, he couldn’t help but think that Steve’s hands were…beautiful. Strong but gentle, like Steve himself. 

And while this whole showering thing was certainly plenty distracting, realizations like that made it feel nice in other ways, too. Eddie enjoyed kneading and massaging at Steve’s muscles, a little sore from the court, and having them relax under his touch. Relished the unique opportunity to look after Steve’s body for him, take care of it–of him–in ways he normally wouldn’t have been able to. 

His hands wandered lower still, eyes following the same path, past Steve’s firm, tan stomach and delectable hipbones, down down down, until…

There it was. Steve Harrington’s cock, pretty and pink, jutting up between his thighs, already at half-mast from Eddie’s little sight-seeing tour. That view alone was enough to have a thrum of arousal running through Eddie’s borrowed body, and Steve’s dick gave an interested twitch in answer. 

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Definitely nailed it with that nickname, big boy.”

And, well. He did have to wash every part of Steve, Eddie didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

Besides…just one little touch wasn’t going to hurt anything. 

So, curious, he wrapped his hand around it, taking a moment just to feel the weight and girth against his palm. Steve wasn’t quite as thick as he was, though he more than made up for that in length, as Eddie discovered firsthand when he stroked him from base to tip. 

He bit down on his fist to muffle the loud groan that threatened to spill from his mouth, hips bucking instinctively when Steve’s cock jerked against his hand. This is what it would feel like, if Eddie ever lucked out enough to talk Steve into letting him give him a handjob. 

As x-rated visions of that possibility flooded his mind and Little Stevie grew even more interested, Eddie decided he absolutely needed to direct his attention elsewhere. Clearly, that way lay madness. 

Plus, even as good as it was… he wished Steve was here, showering with him. This whole situation might have its weirdly sexy moments, but there was no way it could actually compete with the real thing. 

So, only somewhat reluctantly, Eddie let go of Steve’s cock and redirected his efforts to his back. He scrubbed over his shoulders and down his spine, then trailed his hands lower, over the curve of Steve’s ass. Sucking in a sharp breath, Eddie cupped those full, pillowy cheeks in both hands, giving them a quick squeeze. 

Holy shit, that was nice. 

And, okay, it wasn’t exactly the cooldown for his hard-on he’d been looking for, but at least he had hard evidence now–luscious as a peach, Steve’s ass was every bit as round and delightfully bouncy as Eddie’s countless fantasies had made it out to be, over the past month.

For the sake of his own sanity, Eddie made quick work of the rest. He ran over biteable thighs, calves, and arms at a rapid pace, only really slowing down when he got to Steve’s face, touch conscientious as he rubbed at his cheeks and strong jawline. 

Last but far from least came Steve’s hair. Eddie washed and conditioned it, following the pain-stakingly exact instructions Steve had given him as best as he could. Even now it still felt like a treat, getting to bury his fingers in the thick, soft strands of the ‘Hair’ himself as he massaged at his scalp.  

With a twist of the knob, Eddie shut off the shower and stepped out. After approaching the mirror, he wiped a circle through the steam fogging it up. Steve’s face peered back at him, looking flushed from more than just the heat still lingering all around him. 

Eddie sucked in a few deep breaths, thinking of sticky, black Upside Down ichor and Mrs. O’Donnell’s dull ass upcoming history exam, willing the slight stiffy he was still sporting to go all the way down. 

Once he’d gotten it together out enough he could show his face without shame, Eddie grabbed a towel and dried off. Wrapping it around his waist, he started to leave the bathroom. 

“Stay there.” Steve pointed a finger  at him, stopping Eddie in his tracks. “I’m not finished with you yet, Munson.”

—

To the shock of absolutely no one, turned out Steve absolutely did have an extensive, nearly thousand step skin care routine. 

“Jesus, Stevie. What is all this junk?” Eddie picked up one of many little white bottles spread out on the counter, squinting at the label. He wasn’t even sure, based on the multisyllable words making up the ingredients list, that it was in English.

“This junk,” Steve said in his bitchiest tone, “is your one-way ticket out of a T zone breakout. So just…quit complaining and take a seat for me, alright?”

Rather than the desk chair Steve gestured to, the one he had dragged in from his bedroom, Eddie placed a palm flat on the counter of the sink and hopped onto it, sending Steve a cheeky grin. 

“As you command, stylist Stevie. I’m ready.” After giving Steve a teasing salute, Eddie reached up, fluffing the ends of Steve’s hair and batting his eyelashes. “Douse me with your potions and elixirs, make me even more beautiful.”

“Whatever,” Steve huffed, his half-smile and the faint pink tinge on the tip of his ears making it clear he wasn’t all that annoyed. 

As he stepped into the open space between Eddie’s spread legs, however, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made a miscalculation. He was still in nothing but a towel, after all, and though the Harrington towels were luxuriously fluffy, the material wasn’t all that thick. 

Which shouldn’t have been a problem, in theory. Sure, he’d gotten a little carried away in the shower, but it was Eddie’s own face currently staring back at him, even if Steve was the one in the driver’s seat. How much of a turn on could that really be?

As he caught Steve’s now darker eyes, though, hyper aware of the way his knee couldn’t help but brush up against Steve’s hips and the exposed skin at his waist, it felt a little like all the air in the space between them had been swallowed up.

Tipping his face up to look at Eddie, Steve hummed, contemplative. “At least it’s a lot less like just looking in a mirror this way, I guess.”

On that, they were in complete agreement. At times this whole thing had definitely felt like staring into a wonky, funhouse reflection. Not now, though, as Eddie was quickly discovering. Because there was no way in hell, in that moment, that he could forget this was Steve Harrington, standing so close as steam curled around them, sharing his breath. 

After pouring some kind of clear liquid into his hand, Steve reached up to begin gently rubbing it over Eddie’s cheeks. The first stroke of his fingers was a light, tender caress–but one Eddie hardly had a chance to enjoy, because…

“Jesus Christ!” he hissed, reeling back, the spell of mere moments ago effectively broken. “Fuck, man, that shit’s cold!”

“Don’t be such a baby, Eds,” Steve chided. 

But the next spritz he cupped in his palm for a little longer, clearly trying to warm it up before he began methodically applying it to Eddie’s skin again.

The second time, Eddie dutifully held himself as still as he could, only his fingers fidgeting as he sucked in a shallow breath. 

In all honesty, though, the longer he sat there, the more the whole process became a little hypnotic. Steve’s hands were firm but careful as they massaged each product into Eddie’s face, and the repetition of it–Steve pulling out fancy skin cream after fancy skin cream and going through the routine all over again, rinse (though not always literally) and repeat–soothed Eddie into a state of boneless relaxation. 

“This why rich house wives are always going on and on about spa days?” he asked, not quite able to resist letting loose a satisfied sigh. “Cuz, to be honest, man–if they’re all like this, I think I’m starting to kinda get it.”

Steve’s mouth curled into a pleased smile. “If you think this is good, you should try the real thing. I could always take you to one, you know, if you wanted. That way you could, I don’t know–you could really get to see what all the fuss is about.” 

Eddie shook his head ruefully. When Steve took his chin in hand with a sudden, steady grip, holding him in place again, he swallowed just a little too hard. 

“Better not,” he mused, as Steve resumed those measured strokes across his forehead, “Wouldn’t want to send the Stepford wives packing. Bad for business.”

“No one’s fleeing anything just cuz you showed up, Eds,” Steve said sternly, before adding darkly, “...not if I have anything to say about it.”

The fingers still gripping his chin served as a reminder that Eddie needed to keep his expression somewhat still–which was good, since how truly touched he felt would have been immediately obvious otherwise. 

“Gonna be my knight in shining armor, Harrington? Slay all those judgemental, PTA-appointed dragons for me?”

“Uh, yeah?” The certainty of Steve’s tone made it sound like there had never been any question. “Somebody’s gotta do it, might as well be me. I might not know shit about your Nerds and Knights game, but I’ll go to bat for you anytime, Eds. No questions asked.”

Before Eddie had a chance to say something–like swearing his undying fealty to Steve in turn, for example–Steve muttered, “There,” under his breath, quick and satisfied. Then, he took a step back, tilting his head to one side to look over his handiwork.

“Whaddya say, oh wise and talented beautician?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at him. “Do I pass inspection?” 

“Almost.” 

As it turned out, there was still hair to attend to, something Eddie should have expected. 

He was at least familiar with that whole routine by now. Steve fluffed and primped those thick locks to his heart’s desire, spraying a metric ton of hairspray to keep it all in place, and Eddie didn’t even tease him–well. 

Not much, at least. 

Like the facial, it really wasn’t half bad. More than once, Eddie found himself mindlessly leaning into the touch, enjoying the feel of Steve’s slimmer than usual fingers running through his hair. 

Once he had given Eddie the perfect Harrington ‘do, Steve snatched something off of the counter and twirled it between his fingers, closing in on Eddie one last time.  

“Okay, now…pucker your lips.”

A jolt ran through Eddie, sure he’d misheard. “I–huh?”

His eyes trailed down to the red tube clutched in Steve’s hand. Cherry was scrawled on the side of it. 

“Lip balm, dude? Come on, I don’t want my lips ending up all gross and chapped,” Steve snapped his fingers impatiently. 

Eddie pouted his mouth dutifully, imagining the picture he painted with Steve’s full, pink lips. Steve’s gaze fell to them, and the already steamy room seemed to warm up a couple degrees. Leaning in, a flash of tongue sticking out as he concentrated, he delicately traced the chapstick along the line of Eddie’s mouth, the foreign feel of it smooth and glossy. 

“Nice,” Steve gave a nod when he finally pulled back, satisfied. “You’re gonna wanna rub them together, too. Like this, yeah?” 

Demonstrating, Steve sucked Eddie’s own lips inward, deliberately dragging them over each other. Eddie mimicked the motion, head spinning a little. This was what Steve’s mouth felt like–impossibly soft and a little sticky, tasting faintly of cherries. Despite the fact that they were several inches apart, the whole thing felt almost like…the phantom of a kiss.

“How about now? Looking good?” Eddie asked, Steve’s voice sounding unexpectedly gravelly as it came out of his mouth. 

Steve’s eyes dropped down to Eddie’s lips, his gaze long and lingering. A shiver threatened to run down Eddie’s spine, at the heat he swore he saw in that look. It reminded him of the Upside Down, the way Steve couldn’t seem to stop staring at his mouth. 

And in that moment, his own features seemed to melt away, and all Eddie could see was Steve–dark lashes dipping over warm eyes, teeth digging tantalizingly into a flushed bottom lip.

Before he could do something incredibly foolhardy–and pretty freaky, even for him, considering their situation–and close the gap between them with a kiss, Eddie blurted, “Tempting enough? Wouldn’t wanna screw up your reputation as Hawkins’ most desirable bachelor, after all, sweetheart.” 

Steve jolted, head jerking upward. 

Pressing a fist to his mouth, he cleared his throat. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, totally, dude. You’re getting it, the Harrington stamp of approval.” He punctuated the statement by giving Eddie a dorky thumbs up. 

So Eddie hopped off the counter, far clumsier in scrambling back to his feet than Steve undoubtedly would have been. 

The position left the pair of them practically chest-to-chest, with the way Steve still had him boxed in. Eddie became hyper aware, all over again, of the fact that he was wearing nothing but a towel, Steve’s bare chest still wet and glistening from the shower. A state that Steve would find himself in very, very soon, alone and getting his hands on Eddie’s naked body. 

“I’ll just, uh. Leave you to it, then!” he stuttered, cheeks heating up even as he plastered on a cocksure grin. “Let you keep working your magic, get me all dolled up, too.”

With that, Eddie hastily fled, more than ready to escape the heady, confined space of the bathroom. 

—

By the time he heard Steve shut off the shower, Eddie, still in a stupor from their earlier encounter, had managed to sling on a pair of underwear and utterly failed to get any farther than that. He was standing in front of Steve’s unopened closet staring blankly when Steve strode casually into the bedroom, also wearing nothing but a pair of his own briefs. 

This situation really was giving them a whole new level of comfortability, when it came to being basically naked around each other–as Steve had said, nothing either of them hadn’t seen before, technically. But even if it wasn’t real, the implications of the picture Steve painted were enough to make Eddie blush, his skin prickling at the strange, new intimacy of it. 

“What, uh…happened to my boxers, dude?” he couldn’t help but ask. 

“I got yours all sweaty and gross, dude, no.” Steve shrugged, glancing down at himself. “I mean, they're my underwear. And I don't care if you–if I–if me as you wears them. So what's the big deal?”

Eddie didn’t answer. Mostly because, when Steve had turned toward him, he’d immediately become distracted by the one other thing his friend had on. 

Because a thin, white sheet was plastered to his face, holes cut out for his eyes and mouth, making him look like a knock-off Michael Myers. 

That bit about not putting Eddie’s skin through the same paces? Had been a crock of shit, apparently.

Amused, Eddie made a circling motion with his fingers. “Looks like you still got something on my face, Stevie.”

Steve huffed. “One face mask isn’t gonna kill you, Eds, I promise.”

Eddie made note of the way Steve moved–slow and careful–as he retrieved Eddie’s pants from the pile he’d left neatly folded on his desk and pulled them on. He lost the face mask, dropping it into the small trashcan in one corner, but still shrugged the band shirt over his head with the same caution, managing to avoid wiping off the gunk that lingered on Eddie’s skin. 

“How's it feel?” Eddie nodded to the side Steve had pulled out on the court. “The shower help at all?”

He pressed a hand gingerly to his ribcage. “I mean, honestly…it’s still super sensitive, dude. But, sure, yeah. I think the hot water might have soothed it a little.”

Now dressed, Steve dropped down onto his bed, stretching out to sprawl across that blue plaid monstrosity of a comforter. From the outside looking in, he looked completely out of place–Eddie’s Metallica t-shirt, ripped jeans, and glittering rings every Stepford mom’s worst nightmare. Even the way his shaggy hair fanned out on the pillow seemed to clash with the meticulous, suburban decor. 

For his part, though, Steve certainly looked completely at ease. And he ought to, Eddie guessed. It was his bed, after all.

Giving Eddie a once over, he asked, “So…you thinking of getting me dressed sometime this century, or what?”

Feeling called out, Eddie grasped wildly for a comeback and landed on one of his go-to defense mechanisms–flirtatious bravado. 

He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe I’ve been too busy out here, checking out the goods.”

Steve smirked, the portrait of lazy confidence. “Thought you would have done plenty of that during your massively long shower, dude.”

It had seemed easy, falling back on ruffling Steve’s feathers, under the familiar guise of it all being a joke. But with the earlier revelation, Eddie felt like he was playing with fire, suddenly, edging dangerously towards something real. So Steve’s teasing hit him a bit too close for comfort. 

Eddie flustered. “Man, fuck off!”

Steve only tipped back his head and laughed, light and good-natured. 

“Come on, Eds. You’re the one who said we should feel free to explore.” It was his turn to give his eyebrows an overexaggerated wiggle, the mimicry pretty uncanny considering he was wearing Eddie’s face. 

Marching over to the closet, Eddie finally threw open the doors. “Just for that, you don’t get a vote on what you’d like me to wear, Stevie boy.” 

“I mean, it’s not like there’s really anything in there for you to embarrass me with. After all, I’m the one that picked it all out.” Steve said, smug. He waved carelessly at the rows and rows of preppy clothing. “But whatever you want, dude. Knock yourself out.”

“And so I shall, dear Steven. Challenge accepted.”

But as he began to rifle through the rows of clothes, Eddie couldn’t help but feel an exasperated sort of fondness at the familiarity of it all. His hand met lines of tight, stone wash jeans, polo shirts in every color under the rainbow, and the cozy sweaters he admittedly had a massive soft spot for. All neatly organized, not a single item unexpected. Seemingly no skeletons hiding in this closet. 

Eddie guessed that was to be expected, considering how easily Steve had confessed his own bisexuality earlier.

But then…he spotted it. Pushed towards the very back, the telltale blue and red collar sticking out like a beacon.

Jackpot.

“Holy shit, is this–?” Eddie yanked the uniform off its hanger, raising it in the air in triumph when his suspicions were confirmed. “Christ, I knew it, it fucking is! Oh, I know exactly what my next look is gonna be, big boy!”

Spinning on his heel, he draped the Scoops Ahoy sailor costume against his body, giving Steve a little fashion show preview. 

“No. No, no, no, dude!” Steve squawked, scandalized as he bolted upright in the bed, his attention now fully on Eddie. “Absolutely not, Munson! You’re putting that thing on over my dead body.”

“I think you mean over my dead body,” Eddie shot him a shit-eating grin, “And, need I remind you, Harrington, I'm the one that's got all your precious jock speed right now. If you wanna stop me, you’re gonna have to catch me first!”

With a cackle, he made a beeline straight for the bathroom, giving Steve’s thigh a brief, taunting pat as he dashed past. 

Steve grabbed for him–but not quite fast enough. Eddie slipped beyond his reach easily, Steve’s reflexes on a slight delay from what he was used to, if his look of startled annoyance was anything to go by. 

Bare feet sliding when he hit damp tile, Eddie plunged headlong into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. With a click, he locked it behind him.

“Goddamnit, you’ve got to be kidding me! Eddie!” Steve banged his fist with enough force the knob rattled slightly. “Seriously, dude, open up!” 

“No can do, Steve-o!” Eddie sing-songed, hastily tossing on the sailor suit.

Glancing up, he took in Steve’s reflection, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary. The gleeful expression looked foreign on his friend’s face. 

The red, white, and blue collar coupled with the neckerchief would have probably looked ridiculous on literally anyone else, but Steve could pull it off. Hell, he looked cute wearing it, the handsome bastard. And as for those tiny blue shorts…they hugged Steve’s thighs, high and tight, showing off his fuzzy, tan skin and muscled calves. 

Eddie let out a whistle. “They let you loose in public like this? Christ, the length of these shorts alone is fucking obscene, man.”

Steve groaned, and Eddie wondered if the dull thud that accompanied the sound was him banging his head against the door.

Spinning around, he twisted his neck to try and get a better view of the back. Unfortunately, the bathroom mirror wasn’t long enough to give him an unobstructed glimpse of that glorious sight. Eddie would need the full length mirror in Steve’s closet to get the whole effect.

And that was a temptation he couldn’t resist. 

“‘Kay, but not really seeing what you’ve got to be embarrassed about, sailor. It’s kind of obnoxious, to be honest, but you actually make this goofy ass shit look good.” 

As he swung the door open, Eddie expected to find Steve standing there waiting for him. Instead, the space was empty, his friend nowhere to be seen. 

“Stevie?” he called out, sticking his head around the doorframe. “Where the hell’d you go, man?”

As soon as he stepped fully into the room, Steve ambushed him, ploughing into his body from the side. Taking advantage of the surprise attack, he managed to use Eddie’s speed and wiriness to steer him towards the bed, and the pair of them toppled down onto Steve’s mattress as one. 

A brief tussle ensued, both of them swearing and grunting, a tangle of limbs and wild hair as the sheets twisted around them. Steve got the upper hand quickly, bony knees digging into Eddie as he pinned him. 

“Another win for Harrington, and the crowd goes wild!” Steve shook his hands over his head in a victory clasp, miming the sounds of a cheering audience. 

Flushed and panting on his back beneath him, Eddie tried not to think too hard about the position they found themselves in. 

Instead, he channelled his energy into irritation. “Screw that, man! No way that counts as a fair fight, you fucking cheated!”

“Uh, it’s called stealth, dude. Hello?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at him, smug. “Ask anybody. I’m sneaky, like a ninja.”

“Yeah, well…” Eddie’s grin turned sharp, a little feral, “that makes two of us, Harrington.”

With a lunge, he flipped them over, easily tackling Steve and pressing him down into the sheets with his now larger frame.

“Shit, will you look at that, big guy?” Eddie flexed an arm, admiring the way Steve’s bicep bulged. “These jock muscles really are coming in handy!”

“Yeah, my muscles!” Steve sputtered, looking not unlike an angry cat as he tried and failed to wriggle himself free. 

Eddie was unfazed by that technicality as he skated his hand downwards, headed straight for that sensitive place right under Steve’s arm–Eddie’s weak spot, where he was the most ticklish. With Steve at his mercy for once, he was eager to get back to roughhousing, make him say uncle. 

But before he could dig his fingers in and take their wrestling any further, Steve reached up and circled his slim fingers around Eddie’s thicker wrists, stilling him. 

“Easy, easy, easy! Watch it, watch it, don't get too rough!” he chided. “You're injured, you butthead.”

And even if it was said through the veneer of Steve's particular brand of exasperated bitchiness, Eddie couldn't help but soften at the worry for him, for his body.

“Oh, no need to worry your pretty head about little ole me, Harrington. I promise–I can handle it plenty rough.” He winked.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Well, let’s not and say we did when it comes to testing your limits, yeah?”

Wiggling out of the hold Steve had on his arm, Eddie bopped him once on the nose, helplessly fond. “I know you’re the babysitter, but I’m a big boy, Stevie. You don’t gotta look after me.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. Somebody’s got to, and, clearly, you’ve been doing a pretty crap job of it.”

“Ouch!” Eddie rolled off of him, collapsing into the mattress with a hand to his heart like he’d been shot. “How you wound me, good sir!” 

Steve ignored him, glancing down at himself. “Besides, it’s honestly probably easier to do it from in here. It’s keeping you out of trouble the rest of the time that’s the problem.”

“Say that to my face, man. No really, to this face.” He jerked his thumb towards Steve’s handsome mug. “Cuz I’m sure as hell not the only danger magnet around here. It’s you, Steve Harrington, that’s been fighting interdimensional monster for the last fucking, what? Four years? And don’t forget I saw you down there, man, throwing yourself into the line of fire like it’s your goddamn job. Sounds to me like I’m the one that should be keeping a closer eye on you.”

Steve harrumphed, unconvinced. 

“Hey, dude, you’re the one that started it,” Eddie argued. “If you’re gonna be my keeper, then I’m gonna be yours. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Got it?”

He caught Steve glancing at him, quick and startled, something that looked an awful lot like…awe in his expression. 

“Yeah, okay. Guess I, uh…guess I can’t really argue with that.”

Eddie clapped his hands together once in a swift, ringing slap of triumph. “Damn right you can’t!”

With an exasperated sigh, Steve hefted himself up onto one elbow, looking down at him. “...You know, I’ve got an idea for how you could get started, watching out for me.”

“Oh, shit, do you?” he sat up, too, eager to stay true to his word. “And how’s that?”

“Uh, by getting me out of that ridiculous outfit!” Steve gave the collar of the sailor suit an impatient tug, his lip curling with disgust. 

Eddie shook his head, letting out a cackle. “No, no, no, you misunderstand, my liege. I never said anything about protecting your dignity!”

“Thanks a lot for nothing, asshole,” Steve grumbled, knocking his shoulder against Eddie’s. 

But then he left them pressed together, the weight steady and comforting, as warmth radiated between them.

If you’d liked to be added or removed from the taglist, please just let me know.

Taglist: @tinytalkingtina @eriquin @spectrum-spectre @grimweathers @highkingpenny

@yesdangerpls @vthx @queenie-ofthe-void @pearynice @felixir-of-moths

@stevesworldxx @themellowyellowmomma @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @anne-bennett-cosplayer

@sidekick-hero @thefreakandthehair @hbyrde36 @lingeringmirth @too-efn-old-to-be-here

@ellietheasexylibrarian @sharingisntkaren @a-lovely-craziness

[rekino2114]

Going Christmas shopping with Cassidy amber

Holiday post #6

Pairing:Cassidy amber x gn reader

A/n:Am I doing this just because p:e.g. chapter 1 comes out tomorrow, and I really hope Cassidy doesn't die.....yes, definitely, PLEASE don't die my comunist gamer

You and Cassidy made your way inside the giant shopping mall you were planning to shop in, you two took a moment to take in the Christmas decorations and lighting

"Woooh finally, ok we're here"

She took off her hat and scraped some snow off of it

"I told you you should have worn warmer clothes, you thought only your hat would protect you from the cold?"

"Yeah, it's especially made to protect my head from the cold"

"And the other parts of your body?"

She dismissively waved her hand at you while looking at the other side

"Details,Details, besides, I'm not gonna catch a cold just because of a little bit of snow, I'm not that weak"

"Whatever you say"

"Anyway, now the fun can truly start, where do you wanna go first?"

"Is that even a question?"

"I know, I just wanted to say this together"

"Alright then"

"THE VIDEO GAME SECTION!"

You two fist bumped each other and started to walk hand-in-hand to the game section

"OK so what do you want to get?"

"I'm fine with whatever game you want, though I'd prefer a multi-player one so we can play together"

"You read my mind, though why do we have to limit each other to one game, it's the holiday season so we should get gifts right?"

"Oh yeah, I should probably get you one too"

"Nah, that's not what I meant"

She pulled out a credit card from out of her wallet and gave it to you

"My gift is gonna be to get you a gift, go nuts, take all the games you want"

"Oh no please I can't accept that"

"Come on we've been through this a gazillion times, streamer and tournament money is pretty good, even when you give part of it to charity, so I can not not spoil you, plus you're gonna buy more games with the money which is gonna make me more money with the streams, it's an infinite money glitch!"

"I......guess, don't think I'm not gonna buy games that you like though"

"Dude, I like every game you literally couldn't buy a game I don't like even if you wanted to"

"Eh,that's true"

You went and brought every interesting game you saw while asking Cassidy her opinion on them, she basically told you she liked everything which didn't help your objective to spend as less money as possible but she really didn't care about that

"OK what's next on the list?"

"Christmas decorations!"

"Sounds good"

You went to the check out and decorations and brought some that you thought would look good in your house, you then spotted a Christmas hat and held it out to your girlfriend

"you wanna wear this?"

"No, I've already got my hat and I'm not taking it off"

"Who said you had to take it off?"

You then put the Santa hat on top of her own hat, she looked at it and then gasped

"That's an amazing idea babe, it'a double hat! This has gotta double my stats and I'm gonna be in the Christmas spirit"

You giggled at her as you two hugged for a moment

"OK so now what's next?"

"Let's see, we brought games, decorations, sweaters, and cookies, I think we're done"

"OK, let's go then"

You two went to pay and it turned out that the cashier was a "comrade" of Cassidy's so he gave you a discount in exchange for a selfie.

"Wait let me hold the bags"

"Hm? Why?"

"I wanna do something since you paid and also your hands look like they're about to freeze, put them in your pockets"

"I think I have a better idea"

She gave you one of the bags as the held the other ones in her hand, she then reached her now empty hand to yours, wrapping it around your arm and pulling you closer to her

"Don't you know teamwork is the basis of every duo? Both for co-op gaming and for the power couple we are, plus now we have warm hands! Both of us! Isn't that just great?"

You laughed together and got even closer, warming each other up

"Yeah it is, so what do you wanna do for Christmas?"

"Oh, I wanted to do a special stream. It's gonna be like 12 hours long, and we're gonna be playing games and raising money. It's gonna be so epic"

"That does sound epic"

"And don't think you can skip it, we're gonna be playing together ok?"

"Don't worry, I wouldn't miss streaming with you for anything in the world"

[epickiya722]

You know what, let's talk about it. I have thoughts on 268, specifically the "end" between Yuji and Sukuna.

(Jumping off this post and this one.)

Maybe because I'm a fan of both (with Yuji being overall favorite), but I don't see how anyone can be a Sukuna fan and hate Yuji. Especially after 268.

After everything Sukuna has done to him, Yuji still has empathy for him. He connects with Sukuna while holding him as he (Sukuna) fades away (assumingly, I'll get to that).

The scene does start off like Yuji's final confrontation with Mahito (chapter 132 for reference). Yuji looking down at his enemy in his defeated form, says his name and then "I am you", but in reverse.

To me when Yuji says that "You are me", he's telling Sukuna that they are one in the same, that Sukuna could have been Yuji had he had a different life. He's telling Sukuna to accept that, that he is human just as much as he is like when Yuji told Mahito he is no different from the curse.

With Mahito, Yuji was trying to deny, deny, deny until he accepts that "Yeah, we are the same". That's what he wants Sukuna to do. He wants Sukuna to be the Yuji here.

However, it's to see that Sukuna is human and there's value in living. How you die doesn't matter, it's how you live that does. He wants Sukuna to have that second chance even if Sukuna doesn't deserve it.

Let's be real, out of all the characters it is Yuji who came to understand Sukuna the most, probably even more than Sukuna himself.

And I don't think Yuji just gets that him and Sukuna are one. He also gets that humans and curses are one and as such should the idea of humans and curses coexisting is what he accepts. Yuji is the embodiment of an enlightening.

Visually pleasing, I do like that when Yuji speaks here, he still has his facial injuries, his hair slicked back and even his eyes still have the rings. He looks like his own version of Sukuna here. To me, it brings more meaning to his "You are me" line because the last Sukuna sees isn't just Yuji, but also a different version of himself that he could have been.

And at first, it did seem odd (I'll use that word) that Yuji didn't keep the scars he had from that final fight, but it made sense to me because he does have RCT and most of the Cursed energy he was using did go into his techniques and Domain.

But also, a visual reminder that he is still Yuji.

I think about how some of the fandom sees Yuji as the next Sukuna, but I don't think is ever something the mangaka had planned.

Yes, Yuji Itadori is Ryomen Sukuna and Ryomen Sukuna is Yuji Itadori.

But also, they're not each other.

They're still two different beings, two different individuals. They're opposites just as much as they are alike.

Yuji without his scars that would have made him look like Sukuna is a visual reminder that at the end of the day, he is still him.

He was born with his life already planned for him and now he can live how he wants to because he has value in himself and in living.

Yuji Itadori will always be Yuji Itadori.

Not a cog, not a vessel. But Yuji Itadori.

☆

Rereading the posts I linked above and thinking about how their souls are so intertwined that the other characters had to be careful about their plans around Yuji, I remembered a post I wrote way back when about how "it would be so funny if Yuji was Sukuna reincarnated".

Thinking about all that put together what if Yuji is?

Just hear me out.

Remember when Sukuna said he "doesn't feel anything"? Well, what if Yuji is that "anything"? He's the piece of Sukuna that Sukuna didn't feel, the "humanity and empathy". Sukuna doesn't have to feel, Yuji does it for him.

Yuji is that regret, despair, genuine happiness, concern and other forms of emotions that Sukuna can't bring himself to feel.

Now, I do want to bring up something else. A part of me has a feeling that Sukuna isn't really dead. Technically, with Yuji being him and vice versa, metaphorically he isn't. But also... we didn't actually see him completely disintegrate.

It cuts to Yuji's eyes.

Here, it could be Yuji just watching Sukuna fade away completely in regret. Or could be him being anxious over a decision he may have been about to make and said decision he could have gone through with it.

Maybe he ate what remained of Sukuna just before he was completely gone? Maybe that small piece that was left in his hands?

I know, I know. There's this bit here when Uraume is shattering like an icicle hitting the ground.

But what if that final piece of incarnated piece of Sukuna died when (hypothetically) Yuji ate it?

Just me now! I've said it before plenty of times, but I don't expect anyone to agree with me or even think I'm right about this.

Overall, 268 so far has reminded why Yuji easily is my favorite JJK character. He's compassionate, even when he doesn't have to be. He's a fighter, but not to indulge some enjoyment. It's to help. He will sacrifice physical parts of himself, even his humanity just so he can do his job as a jujutsu sorcerer. He's selfless, a strength and a weakness.

Yuji is just a perfect balance of flaws and strengths that define him that I admire.

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.7 (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, ADULT THEMES, 18+

AN: I kind of want a smut next chapter?? Do we want smut next chapter? Let me knowww~

Chapters

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX

You

Knock, knock, knock

You awaken to a soft knocking on the door. You lay still for a moment, waiting to see who it is.

"(Y/N)? Are you awake?"

You sneer, pulling the covers over your head and turning away at the sound of Adam's voice.

He knocks again. "(Y/N), can we please talk?"

"Go away, Adam!" You shout.

"Please, I really want to talk to you. I.."

You hear him cut off and take a deep breath. "I really missed you, (Y/N)."

You laugh. "I guess that's what happens when you let your wife get killed."

"I didn't want that to happen! What was I supposed to do?

I never meant to let you get hurt. I never meant to hurt you."

You laugh again. "I'm sure you didn't, because nothing means anything to you. It's all just one big game, constantly."

You hear a thud against your door, and a big sigh. "(Y/N), can I come in and talk to you, or are we going to shout through the door?"

You get up and swing the door open, glaring at Adam, not caring that your hair and face were most likely a mess. "No, we aren't going to shout through the door, because you're going to leave me alone."

He reaches his hand for you, but you slap it away. "Seriously, stop trying to reach out for me. I don't know why you think that we can just go back to normal, because we can't, and we probably never will."

He furrows his brows. "I can't just leave things like this, though. It's going to fucking bother me. I.."

He swallows and cuts himself off again, looking away uncharacteristically. "I don't like listening to you cry."

Caught off guard, you just look away, feeling a little heat rise to your cheeks. "J-Just leave me alone."

"No, (Y/N), wait-" You cut him off by slamming the door, curling back up into your bed.

--

"We need to talk about what the plan is when Heaven comes down here, because there's no way they won't with the two of us here."

Adam stood in the center of the room, the rest of the gang lounging around, listening to the plan.

Charlie stood next to him. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. We are going to have to work together if we're going to survive this.

It's not going to be like normal exterminations anymore. They're going to hit us full force. We have to be ready."

Vaggie pipes up. "I've already started working on getting weapons from Carmine."

Charlie nods at this. "Good. Angel, Husk, Pentious, how are reinforcments?"

The boys all nod. "Coming along nicely." Angel replies.

"We may need more sheet metal, I noticed a couple of weak points over here.."

The buzz of the group fades into one big chatter, discussing the best defense plans. You couldn't focus on them, anymore, because all you could do was stare at Adam.

He'd decided to finally loosen up a little and remove his normal garb and mask. The problem was, seeing his normal face, seeing him in a tight black button up shirt that hugged his biceps just right -

No, no, no nono-

You shake your head, looking away and standing to grab a drink. I need copious amount of alchol right now. I can't think about him like that.

You take a seat at the bar. Husk had come back to his usual spot.

"Need a drink?"

You nod. "Please. Something strong."

Husk eyes you. "You doin' alright? With uh.."

He nods at Adam. You turn to glance at him one more time, and make eye contact. You look away first, not wanting to see if he was still looking at you.

"Not really, no."

"I'm all ears."

You sigh, playing with the rim of your glass before slamming it.

"He literally watched me die, and continued to work for them no problem. What more is there to say? He basically decided to forget I ever existed."

Husk nods. "I can see why it would feel that way. Has he told you his side of things?"

You sit up a little. "His side?"

"Yeah. Have you asked him what happened before, after, all that? I'm not saying it'll change anything, but it might give you a little closure to know how it all went down."

He pours you another shot, and you knock it back.

"I guess so."

He fills your glass again.

"Something else wrong?"

"It's just.." You look back at Adam. He's with Sir Pentious and Alastor now, pointing out weak spots in the building's interior.

You watch the way his muscles flex as he moves around, his shirt clinging to his arms and back in all the right spots.

You slam your drink. "Why does he have to walk around like-" You wave your arms dramatically in his direction.

"So hhhott??" You start to slur. You look down at your cup. "Ss-strong stuff." You giggle. Husk holds his hands out to you cautiously. "Hey now, be careful or you'll fall of the stool. That's my mistake, I should've given you something else."

You shake your head, giggling again. "Nope, I love it, and I feel better already. Anotherrrr!~"

You say sing-songy, and hold your glass. He grimaces. "One small one, and this bartender is cutting you off. Got it?"

You nod, still holding your glass like a little kid asking for water. He sighs, and fills it again. "Thank youu!~"

You knock it back and look over at Adam again.

"That's, that's it!" You slam your hands on the bar as you stand.

"What are you doing?" Husk asks.

"I'm going to give him-" You hiccup, "a piece of my mind for walking around like that!"

"I don't think you should-" Before Husk can stop you, you're already pointing a finger in Adam's face.

"Hey!" He jumps, looking at you surprised. "(Y/N)? Are you okay?"

You hiccup again. "How dare you walk around like that."

He looks around, and then down at himself before looking up at you. "Like what?" You gesture to his entire body wildly, stumbling a bit. He holds his hands out in front of you, ready to catch you.

"Like that. I'm trying to be pissed, here, how can I be mad if you make me want to-" You hiccup again, "want to fuck y-" Adam's eyes go big and he cuts you off, looking at Alastor and Sir Pentious behind him.

"Oh-kay, it looks like you've had a lot to drink. How about I get you back to your room?"

He gently grabs your arm. You giggle. "Back to my room~ huh?" He smirks a little bit. "Look, as tempting as that sounds, I think we should just get you into bed."

He tries to guide you up the stairs but you tug at his arm, whining. "Nooo, I don't want to walk up all the stairs." You sit on the first step, pouting like a child.

He laughs. "Why-" You hiccup, "why are you laughing?"

He smiles down at you, a sparkle in his eyes. "I just haven't seen you this trashed in a while, that's all." You stare up at his face quietly.

"What's the matter?"

"You're so fucking hot."

His eyes go big again, and he smiles, blushing a little. "Of course I am, babe, why do you think you married me?" You punch his knee. "Shut uppp!~" You giggle again.

He smiles at you. "Come here." He picks you up bridal style, spreading his brilliant, gold wings and flying you up the stairs to your bedroom.

Once inside the room, he helps you into bed, tucking you in the sheets. You look up at him, staring at his perfect features. Stupid, perfect man.

"What is it?" He asks you.

Don't say it, don't-

"I want you to kiss me." You mentally slap your forehead. Dammit, I'm supposed to be mad at him. I'm never drinking whatever that was again.

He smiles at you, and reaches out to you, cradling your face between his hands. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I want to kiss you, too, but I don't think I should while you're this drunk. I think you'll be upset about it tomorrow."

You try to look away, feeling your face get hot, but he pulls you back to look at him.

"But, if you wake up tomorrow, and decide you still want me to kiss you, come tell me, okay?" He smiles again. You smile back. "Okay, Adam."

"Get some sleep."

"Will you stay?"

He runs a hand through your hair. "Of course I will. I'll take your couch." He snags a pillow, stretching out on your couch. With his presence in the room, you drift off into a comfortable slumber.

--

The next morning, you wake up, head throbbing. Your eyes still all squinty, you slowly sit up, putting a hand against your forehead.

"Owww.."

You throw your legs over your bed, and you're about to stand, when you see a steaming hot plate of eggs, bacon, and toast sitting next to a cup of coffee on your table.

"What.."

You walk over, mouth drooling, and start shoveling food into your mouth, when you notice the note next to it.

'(Y/N,

Sorry to leave, but I had to get an early start today.

Hope you're hungry when you wake up.

-Adam'

You stop chewing for a moment, your eyes going wide as you stare at the toast in your hand, now.

Oh god, we didn't..?

You look at your clothes. You're still wearing the same thing as yesterday.

You think really hard..

And your face goes bright red.

That's so much worse than sleeping together! You think, covering your face with your hands.

--

After finishing your breakfast and getting dressed, you start to leave, pausing at the door.

'If you wake up tomorrow, and decide you still want me to kiss you, come tell me, okay?'

"Ughhhhhhhh-" You groan as loud as you can manage, burying your hands in your face and sliding down your door.

"I can't believe I did that! What do I do now?"

Well, do I want him to-

"No!" You cut off your own thoughts. No, no none of that. You think to yourself.

You stand up again. "But.." You imagine it for a second, how wonderful it would be to just have one more..

That's it! Just one more because I want it, and then no more ever again! It'll drive him crazy!

You smile, ignoring the butterflies you still feel in your stomach, and leave your room.

--

You walk down the stairs to be met by Charlie. "(Y/N)!" She comes barreling over to you, practically sceaming. You look around the room, and you spot Adam look up at you at the sound of Charlie mentioning you.

You guys make eye contact for a brief moment before Charlie yanks you down by your hand, forcing you to snap out of your haze.

"What's going on?"

"It's bad, it's bad it's ba-"

"Charlie." You grab her by the shoulders. "What's going on?"

"Adam got a message from Lute. According to her, if we can still trust her, Sera is planning an attack in 2 days from now."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, you can definitely trust her. She's extremely loyal to Adam." Charlie blinks. "Like, how loyal we talkin?" She raises her eyebrows at you.

You shrug. "Who knows? I was 'dead' for a while."

Suddenly, any feeling you had of kissing Adam is replaced by your anger again.

And speak of the devil, or, the angel, and he shall appear.

He comes up behind you and touches your elbow, making you jump and turn. "Oh. Hi."

"Hey." He scratches the back of his head. "Do you, um, remember last night at all?"

You cross your arms and look away. "Oh yeah, I rememeber everything." You see him perk up at this. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not sure though, might need to check with Lute on that one."

He rolls his eyes and sighs, leaning back from you. "Goddamnit, (Y/N), I don't know why you always have to do this shit."

"Me? What about you?"

He scoffs. "I didn't fucking do anything. In case Charlie failed to mention, she sent a message to warn us about Sera."

"Warn us, or warn you?"

"Oh my god, you always did this shit when we were together too. I don't fucking get it." He walks away. You follow after, ignoring how everyone in the hotel is staring.

"Well, you always fucking did this too!" You gesture at him, but he doesn't look back at you, storming outside and down the steps. "Do what?"

"Walk away! That's all you've ever done is walk away from me!"

He stops for a moment and takes a deep breath.

For some reason, all you can focus on is how sparkly his wings look between your tears. He turns to face you. "Why are you starting a fight with me right now? Did I do something? Aside from everything else?"

You shake your head. He smirks. "Why are you fucking smiling?" You ask, even more pissed off.

"So you're jealous?"

Your eyes go big and you quickly turn away from him, rubbing the tears from your face vigorously.

"N-No!"

He laughs, which makes you huff. "You're so fucking jealous!"

"I am not!" You start to turn to walk away, but you feel his arms snake around your waist tightly.

"L-Let me go!" You want to be mad, but for some reason, your heart won't stop pounding in your chest, and your face is getting hotter and hotter.

You feel him nuzzle his face into your neck, stubble brushing against your cheek.

"Then why are you blushing?"

You stop fighting him, turning your head away, defeated. "I-I'm not blushing." He laughs again. "Stop laughing at me!"

You feel the warmth of his wings wrap around you, and he turns you to face him. "You remember last night, then?"

You try to look away, but he grabs your chin. "Do you remember?"

You look into his eyes. "Yes.."

"And?"

For a moment, you say nothing. All you do is stare up at his face, studying his golden eyes, his perfect jaw line. The look in his eyes when you look at him reminds you of your wedding day.

You perfectly see it when you stare at him now, him in his tux, flower petals floating in the breeze. It truly was a perfect day.

"I want you to kiss me."

His lips come crashing into yours, almost violent. You can feel how hungry he is for you, how much he needed you, how long he had been waiting for it.

His tongue flicks against your bottom lip, and you open, allowing him in. His tongue plays with yours, and it's all you can do to keep yourself from moaning into his mouth.

One of his arms holds you tightly around your waist, pressing you hard against his body, as if he feels that you'll run away the moment he lets go. His other hand cradles your cheek, his fingers tangling up into your hair.

You wrap both of your arms around his neck, and suddenly you feel your feel dangling in the air as he lifts off.

You don't bother breaking away, kissing him passionately as he flies straight up, holding you bridal style now.

The kiss lasts for what seems like an eternity, and then finally, you feel your feet hit the pavement again, and you pull away, leaning against a wall for support..

He breaths heavily, staring down at you, eyes glazed over like an animal looking at it's prey. He leans over you, placing an arm against the wall on either side of your head.

"One more." He demands.

You smile, completely forgetting what you told yourself earlier about revenge, closing your eyes and giving him one last kiss on the lips.

He kisses back before pulling away to look at you, still leaning against the wall.

"I've been wanting that for so long, you have no fucking idea."

A small pit forms in your stomach. "Even when I died?"

His smile drops. "Especially when you died. I always missed you, (Y/N), always."

"Do you still love me?"

He blinks, and pauses.

"I-" You raise a hand. "Nevermind." You try to push past him, but he won't let you, bringing his wings on either side of you instead.

"I don't know why I asked that, just let me-" You can feel hot tears sting your eyes.

"I do still love you, (Y/N). You surprised me when you asked that. But please don't doubt that I love you.

With everything happening, I need you to know that. I don't want anything bad to happen without you knowing."

You feel a tear escape your eye, and he wipes it away with his thumb.

"I love you, (Y/N)." He pulls you close, and you bury your face into his chest.

"I love you, Adam."

--

Want a part 8? Let me know!

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests

AN: I kind of want a smut next chapter?? Do we want smut next chapter? Let me knowww~

Chapters

I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX

[solarswonderland]

HAVEN: CHAPTER 19

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Julie groaned as her alarm blared, slamming her hand down on the clock until it shut up. She buried her face in her pillow, debating if she could just sleep through the rest of summer. Unfortunately, her brain had other plans, replaying last night's events like a broken record.

Shaking off the thought, she rolled out of bed and shuffled to her closet, grabbing the first decent outfit she could find. Halfway through brushing her teeth, she heard a knock at her bathroom door.

"Julie?" Jonathan's voice came from the other side.

She spit out the toothpaste and wiped her mouth. "What?"

The door creaked open, and Jonathan poked his head in. He looked exhausted. His hair was a mess, and he had that frazzled look he got whenever he was dealing with something annoying.

"Have you seen my camera?"

Julie frowned. "Nope. You okay?"

Jonathan sighed, stepping into her room. "The guys at the Hawkins Post are being assholes again."

Julie leaned against the sink. "Again?"

"Yeah. It's like their favourite hobby." Jonathan rubbed his temples. "They've been messing with Nancy too. She's trying to get them to take her stories seriously, but they keep treating her like she's just some coffee-fetching intern."

Julie made a face. "Ugh. Sounds like a great work environment."

"Yeah, well, Nancy's about two insults away from throwing hot coffee at someone, and honestly, I wouldn't blame her." Jonathan shook his head. "I just don't get why they can't see she's actually great at this stuff."

Julie crossed her arms. "Because they're insecure men who probably cry themselves to sleep at night, fully aware that they peaked in high school?"

Jonathan smiled. "That's... honestly probably it."

Julie grinned. "You should definitely tell Nancy that. Might help."

Jonathan chuckled, then narrowed his eyes at her. "Speaking of people who peaked in high school..."

Julie blinked. "What?"

Jonathan leaned against her door frame, arms crossed. "I heard you've been hanging around Steve a lot lately."

Julie scoffed, turning back to the mirror to fix her hair. "I hang around all of you a lot."

"Uh-huh."

"He works at Scoops Ahoy." She shrugged. "I go to Scoops Ahoy."

"Uh-huh."

"I also hang out with Robin when I'm there."

"Uh-huh."

"We have mutual friends."

"Uh-huh."

Julie groaned. "Do you have a point you're trying to make?"

Jonathan smirked. "Just seems like you and King Steve have been getting a little extra friendly."

Julie rolled her eyes so hard she practically saw her own brain. "Oh, please."

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "So, you didn't spend all of last night with him?"

Julie grabbed a hairbrush and half-heartedly tossed it in his direction. "That was not a Steve thing. That was a Dustin dragging everyone into chaos thing."

Jonathan dodged the brush with ease, looking entirely unconvinced. "Mmm. Sure. But you did spend the night with Steve Harrington."

Julie scoffed. "You make it sound way more scandalous than it actually was."

"Did he give you the Harrington Charm™ ?" Jonathan teased, smirking.

Julie groaned dramatically, tossing her hands in the air. "Oh my God, Jonathan, you are literally the worst person I know."

Jonathan shrugged. "I'm just saying, if you did like him—"

"Nope!" Julie cut in, grabbing her bag. "Not having this conversation."

"—it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," Jonathan finished, grinning as he watched her scramble for the door.

Julie snatched an apple off her dresser and pointed it at him. "You need to get a life."

Jonathan chuckled. "You need to admit your feelings."

Julie turned on her heel and marched out of the room. "Nope, not happening, goodbye forever!"

She heard Jonathan laughing behind her as she grabbed her keys and practically bolted out of the house.

Sure, Steve was... Steve. But that didn't mean anything. Nope. Not even a little bit.

Shoving the thought away, she hopped on her bike and made her way to Scoops Ahoy, fully prepared to throw herself into the chaos of the day and definitely not think about stupid Steve Harrington and his stupidly awesome hair.

Julie strolled into Starcourt Mall, and was just about to head up the escalator when something out of place caught her eye.

Behind a small, decorative plant (which wasn't nearly large enough to conceal them), Steve and Dustin were crouched down like two cartoon criminals. Steve was gripping a pair of binoculars that looked way too tiny for his face, while Dustin fidgeted with his headset.

Julie raised an eyebrow. "What are you two dumbasses doing?"

Both of them flinched so hard they nearly knocked over the plant. Steve immediately grabbed her arm and yanked her down beside them.

"What the fuck—" she started, but Steve clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Shh. We're undercover," he whispered.

Dustin nodded in agreement.

Julie shoved Steve's hand away. "Undercover for what?"

Steve pressed the binoculars back to his face. "I mean—I guess I don't really know exactly what I'm looking for."

"Evil Russians," Dustin clarified, as if that explained everything.

"Right," Steve agreed, nodding. "I don't know what an evil Russian looks like, though."

Julie gave him a blank stare. "Tall. Blonde. Not smiling."

Steve lowered the binoculars slightly. "Okay, that's weirdly specific."

"Earpieces, cameras, duffel bags—that sort of thing," Dustin added.

Steve lifted the binoculars again. "Alright... duffel bag..."

Julie groaned. "This is so stupid. I'm going to find Robin." She stood up, dusting off her shorts.

Steve immediately reached out, grabbing her wrist again. "No, no, no, c'mon! Stay. We need extra eyes."

"Yeah, Julie," Dustin added. "You could be a crucial asset to this mission."

Julie stared at them. "A crucial asset to what, exactly? Stalking mall walkers?"

Steve sighed, exasperated. "You just don't get it. We're dealing with actual spies here. Secret underground Russian operations, all happening right under our noses. You know—espionage."

Julie blinked. "Steve, you work at an ice cream shop."

"Exactly," he said. "The perfect cover."

Julie sighed. "You two are hopeless. I'm going to find Robin before I lose brain cells just existing near you."

Steve groaned as she walked off. "Fine, but if you get captured by Russians, don't come crying to me!"

Julie threw up a thumbs-up without looking back.

As soon as Julie was out of earshot, Dustin smirked, crossing his arms. "Dude."

Steve sighed, focusing very hard on his binoculars. "What?"

Dustin nudged him. "Just tell her."

Steve tensed. "Tell her what?"

"You like her."

Steve scoffed. "I do not like her."

Dustin just stared at him. "Steve."

Steve avoided eye contact. "I don't."

Dustin pointed toward where Julie had just walked away. "Dude, you literally yanked her out of reality so she'd sit next to you and look at random mall people through tiny binoculars."

"That's called tactical recruitment."

Dustin let out a sharp laugh. "Oh my god, you are so full of shit."

Steve sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Even if I did like her—which I don't—it's not like it'd matter."

Dustin frowned. "What do you mean?"

Steve shrugged. "Julie's smart. And funny. And—uh, cool. She doesn't go for guys like me."

Dustin scoffed. "Dude. You're Steve Harrington."

"So?"

"So?! You're, like, the coolest uncool guy in Hawkins! She already likes hanging out with you. And guess what? You don't even have to pretend to be dumb to impress her, 'cause she knows you're dumb, and she still sticks around."

Steve narrowed his eyes. "Was that a compliment or an insult?"

Dustin smirked. "A little of both."

Steve sighed, looking back through his binoculars. "I don't like her, okay?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Sure, buddy. And I don't have a high IQ."

Steve huffed. "You don't."

"Exactly," Dustin grinned. "Denial."

Steve groaned, shoving Dustin's face away. "Shut up."

Julie and Robin sat together, studying the Russian code.

"Tread... tread lightly?" Robin murmured, scribbling the phrase in her notepad.

She sighed, stretching her arms. "You know, if someone told me last year that I'd be sitting here decoding secret Russian messages, I'd have laughed in their face."

Julie smirked. "Right? I thought my biggest challenge would be acing French class, not cracking Cold War-level espionage."

Robin tapped the table. "Still, kind of exciting, though. Like we're spies or something."

Julie chuckled. "Yeah, but real spies probably have better snacks." She gestured toward the half-empty bag of chips on the table. "We should at least have a cool code name. What do you think?"

Robin thought for a moment. "How about... Codebreakers Anonymous?"

Julie snorted. "That sounds like a support group. 'Hi, I'm Julie, and I can't stop decrypting foreign transmissions.'"

Robin laughed. "Fair. What about—"

A sudden knock at the back door of the shop made them both look up. Julie hopped off her chair and opened it, retrieving a package from the delivery man. But something about his clothes caught her attention.

Robin must have noticed too because she walked up beside her.

"Have a nice day," the man said.

Robin, momentarily spaced out, responded, "Yeah, you too."

As he walked away, Julie and Robin exchanged a glance. Then, they saw it—stitched onto the back of his uniform: a silver cat emblem.

"Silver cat," Julie whispered.

"Silver cat," Robin echoed.

Without hesitation, they sprinted out of the shop, nearly knocking over Steve and Dustin in their rush.

"You guys are not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian spy—hey, whoa!" Steve exclaimed as they rushed past him.

Julie and Robin ran straight to the centerpiece of the mall, a massive plant display. Climbing onto the seating area, they scanned their surroundings, searching for anything that could connect to the Russian code.

"A trip to China sounds nice..." Julie muttered, repeating the translation to herself. Her eyes landed on a Chinese restaurant. She grabbed Robin's hand and pointed at it.

"A trip to China sounds nice," she breathed out.

Robin's eyes widened. A smile spread across her face before she nodded. "If you tread lightly..." she trailed off, scanning the stores.

Then she spotted it—'Kaufman Shoes.'

"If you tread lightly!" she exclaimed, pointing at the store.

Julie's heart raced. "When blue and yellow meet in the west..." she said, searching desperately. Then she looked up at the massive clock on the mall's wall. The hour hand was blue, the minute hand yellow.

Her face lit up. "When blue and yellow meet in the west!" She turned to Robin, excitement surging through her.

Robin beamed.

"What are you guys doing?" Steve asked, running up to them.

Julie and Robin hopped off the bench, adrenaline still pumping.

"We cracked it," Robin said, grinning.

"Cracked what?" Steve asked, looking between them.

Julie turned to him, eyes shining. "The Russian code. We cracked it."

"Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes," Robin instructed as all four of them huddled on a rooftop, overlooking Lynx Transportation's loading dock at 9:45 p.m. The rain pounded around them, soaking their clothes and making the metal surface slick beneath them.

Dustin, peering through his binoculars, suddenly whispered, "That guy. Imperial Panda. Ten o'clock!"

They all turned to see a man in a yellow jumpsuit rolling boxes stamped with the Imperial Panda logo.

"What do you think is in there?" Steve asked.

"Guns. Bombs," Dustin said without hesitation.

"Chemical weapons," Robin added.

"Cats," Julie said.

Silence. Steve, Robin, and Dustin all turned to her in unison.

"Cats?" Steve repeated, incredulous.

Julie shrugged. "Hey, you never know. They could be running an illegal cat smuggling ring."

Steve blinked. "Because, yeah, that's the biggest threat right now. International cat trafficking."

"Whatever it is, they're armed to the teeth," Dustin said, ignoring them.

Steve exhaled, wiping the rain from his face. "Great. That's great."

Suddenly, one of the guards opened a door, and the man in the jumpsuit rolled the boxes inside.

"Hey, what's in there?" Robin asked.

Dustin adjusted his binoculars. "Just... more boxes."

"Here, let me check it out," Steve said, reaching for the binoculars.

"No, I'm still looking," Dustin muttered, yanking them away.

"Let me see." Steve made another grab.

"Hang on—"

They tugged back and forth until—CLANK.

The binoculars slipped from their hands, smacking against the metal rooftop with a sound that might as well have been a bomb going off. Every Russian guard below immediately snapped their heads up.

The four of them froze. Then, in perfect synchronisation, they ducked behind the roof's edge.

Julie let out a slow breath. "Wow. Great teamwork, guys. Real professional spy work happening here."

They stayed crouched, their breathing heavy. Unknowingly, Steve and Julie had grabbed each other's hands—tight. They didn't notice at first, too busy bracing for the inevitable flood of armed Russians. But when the initial panic passed, they glanced at each other, then down at their hands.

For a second, neither moved. There was something electric about it—something that made both of them hesitate longer than they should have. Then, almost at the same time, they yanked their hands away, pretending like it had never happened.

Steve's heart was pounding, though he wasn't entirely sure if it was because of the near-discovery or the sudden jolt he felt when he realised he had been holding Julie's hand. Warm. Steady. A little too nice. He shoved the thought away.

Julie, meanwhile, aggressively avoided looking in Steve's direction. She wasn't about to dwell on whatever that was. Nope. Not the time. Not the place.

Suddenly, they all heard clanking sounds.

"Shit, shit, shit, they're coming to the roof," Julie whispered.

Dustin looked around. "There!" he said, pointing to a door that led back to the mall.

All four of them scrambled to their feet and sprinted for the door, slipping inside just as the guards stormed onto the rooftop.

"Well, I guess we found the Russians," Robin muttered.

"That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever's in this room, whatever's in this box, they really don't want anyone finding it," Dustin said as he paced the room. All four of them were huddled in the back of Scoops Ahoy, away from prying eyes.

"There's gotta be a way in," Robin said, drumming her fingers on the table.

"Well, you know... I could just take him out," Steve said nonchalantly.

"Take who out?" Julie asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The Russian guard," Steve repeated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Julie and Robin exchanged a look, equally unconvinced.

"I sneak up behind him, knock him out, steal the keycard. Easy," Steve said with a shrug.

"Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?" Dustin asked, throwing his hands up.

"Yes, Dustin, I did. That's why I would be sneaking," Steve said, emphasising the last word as if Dustin was the one missing something here.

"Okay, then tell me this, and be honest—have you ever actually won a fight?" Dustin challenged.

Robin clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Okay, now, that was one time—" Steve started, already on the defensive.

"Twice, actually. Jonathan, the year before," Julie corrected, smirking.

"That doesn't count," Steve shot back immediately.

"Why wouldn't it count? Because if I remember correctly, my stick-figure brother mopped the floor with you like he was scrubbing for dear life?" Julie said, grinning.

Dustin cackled. "She's got a point, dude. That wasn't even a fight; it was a public service cleanup."

"It was not—Okay, first of all, Jonathan sucker-punched me, twice. And Billy? Billy was basically a Terminator with a mullet!" Steve argued, voice rising.

"So what you're saying is," Julie said, tilting her head, "you're consistently bad at fighting."

Steve groaned. "Oh my God—"

"Hey, Julie, maybe you should fight the Russian instead," Dustin teased.

"You know what? Maybe I should," Julie said, earning a high-five from Dustin.

As their back-and-forth escalated, Robin, who had tuned out the argument, suddenly perked up as an idea struck her.

"This just might work," she muttered, standing up abruptly. Before anyone could react, she darted out of the back room, grabbing a handful of cash from the tip jar.

"Robin—Robin—HEY! What the hell are you doing?!" Steve shouted, bolting after her.

"I need cash," she called back, still moving.

"Yeah, well—half of that is mine! Where—where are you even going?!" Steve whined, jogging after her.

"To find us a way into that room. A safe way." She tossed the words over her shoulder as she reached the front of the shop. "In the meantime, scoop ice cream, behave, and don't get beat up. I'll be back in a jiff!"

And just like that, she was gone.

Steve groaned, rubbing his temples before turning back to Julie and Dustin—only to stop short when he saw Dustin casually licking an ice cream scooper like it was a lollipop.

"Dude," Julie said, grimacing.

Steve looked disgusted. "Come on, man, not my scooper," he said, snatching it away and stuffing it back into his pocket.

Dustin hopped up from his seat and stretched. "Alright, I'm gonna hit the arcade. Be back in ten."

"Yeah, yeah, don't get kidnapped," Steve muttered.

With Robin gone and Dustin off doing God-knows-what, Julie and Steve were left alone behind the counter of Scoops Ahoy. The store was quiet—just the hum of the freezer and the occasional drip of melted ice cream hitting the counter.

Steve leaned against the register, tapping his fingers against it. "So... just you and me, huh?"

Julie smirked. "Don't sound so disappointed."

He scoffed. "Disappointed? Please. This is the highlight of my day."

Julie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "Right. Because standing around in this dorky uniform, scooping ice cream for screaming kids, is so thrilling."

Steve shrugged. "Hey, it's not all bad. I mean... there's some decent company."

Julie's fingers hesitated where she had been tracing circles on the counter. She glanced at him, but his eyes were focused ahead, like he hadn't just said something that made her heart do an annoying little skip.

She decided to play it off. "Oh yeah? Who?"

Steve turned to her with that signature smirk, the one that could get him out of just about anything. "Well, I was mostly talking about myself, obviously."

Julie snorted. "Obviously."

"But," Steve continued, his voice a little softer, "I guess you're not so bad either."

Julie's stomach did another stupid little flip. She crossed her arms. "Wow. Such high praise. You guess I'm not so bad?"

Steve grinned. "Fine. My favourite days are when you don't have work and just hang out here all day because you're... kind of the best part of this job."

That one caught her off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but her brain short-circuited for a second. Instead, she just stared at him, trying to figure out if he meant it like that.

Steve, now realising what he had just said, cleared his throat and quickly turned away, pretending to adjust the napkin dispenser.

Julie, trying to shake the weird, warm feeling creeping up her neck, huffed. "Well, that's not saying much, considering your only other coworker is Robin."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, and she spends half her shift rinsing me, so... really, you win by default."

Julie smirked, but she was still watching him. Still wondering. Did he just mean that in a 'we're-friends' way? Or...?

She decided to push her luck. Just a little.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you almost sound like you enjoy spending time with me."

Steve glanced at her, and for a moment, the teasing, cocky Steve Harrington was gone. He looked at her in a way that made her feel like he was searching for something—some kind of answer to a question he was too afraid to ask.

Then, just as quickly, he smirked. "Eh, don't get ahead of yourself."

Julie scoffed. "And there it is."

Steve grinned, but his fingers were tapping restlessly against the counter. Julie's heart was still beating a little too fast.

Then, as if the universe had perfect timing, Dustin came bursting back in. "Okay, we might be in the Russian blacklist but guess who aced it at the arcade minigame– wait, why do you both look weird?"

Julie and Steve both immediately straightened.

"What? We don't look weird," Julie said quickly.

"Yeah, what are you talking about? We look normal," Steve added, voice a little too high.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at them suspiciously but shook his head. "Whatever. Anyway—"

Julie and Steve both turned away from each other, pretending nothing had happened.

Just then, Robin burst back in. "It is fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the county reporter's office."

She slapped a massive sheet of paper onto the counter. "Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprint."

Dustin smirked. "Not bad."

"This is us—Scoops," Robin said, pointing at the map. She moved her finger across the paper. "And this is where we wanna get."

"There's no other way in," Steve said, scanning the blueprint.

"There is no other way in if you're talking exclusively about doors."

Dustin gasped. "Air ducts!"

Robin grinned. "Exactly. Turns out, this secret room," she said, walking across the room and grabbing a marker, "needs air just like any other room. So these air ducts," she drew a path from the room to Scoops Ahoy, "lead all the way here."

They all glanced from the blueprint to the air duct overhead.

Steve grabbed a ladder and positioned it under the vent, climbing up to unscrew the grate. Dustin handed him a flashlight, which Steve took and aimed into the duct.

"Yeah, I don't know, man. I don't know if I can fit in here. It's super tight."

"That's what she said," Julie muttered to no one in particular.

"I'll fit, trust me. No collarbones, remember?" Dustin said.

"Sorry, what?" Robin asked.

Steve climbed down, handing Dustin the flashlight. "Oh, uh, he's got, he's got some disease, it's crypto—uh, something. Yeah, he's missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo."

"You mean Gumby?" Robin asked.

"I'm pretty sure it's Gumbo," Steve said confidently.

"Steve, just shut up and push me," Dustin said, now half inside the vent, his legs dangling.

"Okay, okay, jeez," Steve muttered, grabbing his feet and trying to shove him.

"Not my feet, dumbass—push my ass."

"...What?"

"TOUCH MY BUTT, I DON'T CARE."

Steve, looking disgusted, reluctantly gave him a shove.

"Harder. PUSH HARDER," Dustin yelled.

"I feel like I shouldn't be watching this. It feels highly illegal," Julie said, looking at Robin.

Robin nodded. "Yeah, feels like it should be censored or something."

The bell suddenly went off like crazy at the front desk. Robin turned to see an angry little Erica standing there, waiting for her ice cream samples with an impatient glare.

That gave her an idea.

"D'you think we should ask Erica? She's tiny—she can totally fit in there!" Robin said to Julie, nudging her.

Julie stared at her, then at Erica, then back at Robin. "...Robin, that is a 10-year-old."

"Okay, and?" Robin said, unfazed. "She's a tiny 10-year-old that can fit in a vent."

Julie considered it for a second, then shrugged. "Fair enough."

——————————————————

Erica climbed up the ladder and moved the flashlight around in the vent, inspecting it like she was appraising something expensive. After a moment, she hopped off the ladder, dusted off her hands, and turned to the group.

"Yeah, I don't know."

"You don't know if you can fit?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I can fit," Erica said, folding her arms. "I just don't want to."

Robin furrowed her brows. "Are you claustrophobic?"

"I don't have any phobias," Erica said, matter-of-factly.

"Okay, well, what's the problem?" Julie asked.

"The problem is I still haven't heard what's in this for Erica," Erica said, raising an eyebrow and tapping her foot.

——————————————————

Steve wordlessly slid a banana float across the table to Erica while Dustin, Robin, and Julie watched, all waiting for her reaction. Of all the wild things Julie had done that day, bribing a 10-year-old to break into a Russian base somehow didn't feel that out of place.

Erica examined the dessert for a moment before pushing it back toward Steve.

"More fudge, please."

Steve stared at the float, dumbfounded.

With a dismissive flick of her hand, Erica urged him on. "Go on."

Rolling his eyes, Steve grabbed the dessert and begrudgingly went back to add more fudge.

Robin let out a sigh and unfolded the blueprint.

"Alright," she said, tracing a path with her finger, "this is the route you're gonna take. Then we wait until the last delivery goes out tonight, you knock out the grate, drop down, and open the door for us."

"Then you find out what's in those boxes?" Erica asked.

"Exactly," Julie confirmed.

"And you said the guard is armed?"

"Yes, but he won't be there," Dustin assured.

"And booby traps?"

"Booby traps?" Robin repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Lasers, spikes in the walls?"

Julie slouched back in her seat while Robin rubbed her temples.

"You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me?" Erica said, looking between them. "Child endangerment."

"We'll be in radio contact with you the whole time—" Robin started.

"Uh-uh," Erica cut her off. "Child endangerment."

Robin sighed, clearly annoyed, but Dustin jumped in.

"Erica, hi. Uh, we think the Russians want to harm our country. Don't you love our country?"

"You can't spell America without Erica," she said matter-of-factly, causing Dustin and Julie to exchange impressed looks.

"Uh, yeah! Oddly, that's totally true," Dustin said excitedly. "So don't do this for us, do this for your country! Do this for America, Erica."

Erica picked up her drink and took a slow sip. "Oh, I just got chills."

Dustin beamed.

"Yeah. From this float, not your speech."

Dustin's smile dropped as Robin rolled her eyes.

"You know what I love most about this country?" Erica continued. "Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?"

"Yeah," Robin, Dustin, and Julie all answered in unison.

"It means that this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And it seems to me my ability to fit in that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I'm talking free ice cream for life."

She plucked a cherry from her float and popped it into her mouth as Julie turned to Robin and mouthed, "Wow."

Julie got up from her seat and headed over to Steve, who was still behind the counter finishing up Erica's float. She leaned against the counter, watching as he aggressively drizzled fudge over the top.

"How's it feel?" she asked.

Steve looked up. "How's what feel?"

"Getting extorted by a 10-year-old."

Steve scoffed. "That's not extortion. That's blackmail."

Julie smirked. "Isn't blackmail, like, when someone has dirt on you?"

Steve paused, thinking. "...Okay, so I don't know words. Whatever, same thing."

Julie laughed softly, resting her arms on the counter. "So, any regrets about taking this job yet?"

Steve sighed dramatically, setting the finished float aside. "Oh, yeah. A ton. I mean, I could be out living my best life, being a total ladies' man, but instead, I'm stuck here dealing with a bunch of literal children."

Julie raised an eyebrow. "Literal children, huh? So that includes me?"

Steve immediately backtracked. "No, no. I mean—you're obviously different. Like, if I had to be stuck here with anyone, I'd—" He stopped himself, suddenly realising how that sounded.

Julie tilted her head. "You'd what?"

Steve cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "I just mean, like, at least you make it somewhat bearable."

Julie rolled her eyes, but there was a teasing glint behind them. "Wow. I'm honoured. Truly."

Steve smirked. "You should be. It's a very exclusive list. Population: you."

Julie felt her stomach flip, but she kept her expression neutral. "Oh yeah? And what exactly earned me such a prestigious title?"

Steve shrugged, leaning against the counter. "Dunno. You're just... different."

Julie raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

Steve opened his mouth, but then hesitated. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to say something real—something that might actually mean something. But then—

"Uh, hello? We've got a top-secret mission to plan here. You guys done flirting, or...?" Dustin voiced out from the booth.

Julie and Steve both stiffened at the same time.

"We weren't—"

"Not flirting," they both said quickly.

Dustin just smirked knowingly. "Sure. Whatever you say."

© solarswonderland

[newwritergirl]

Starting over | Part 19

Materlist

Summary: The pilots are finally on their way back home. Y/n can't wait to finally have Bradley and Jake back for good. But a looming shadow is out there to destroy everything, to destroy her.

Trigger warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, attempt SA, violence against women, blood, injuries, throwing up, language

A/N: This chapter is really heavy, please read the warnings!!! Thanks for the support :)

Word Count:4.2k +

Two weeks. It is Monday and Bradley and Jake are gone for two weeks now. Both aviators dearly miss their girlfriend and with not being able to contact her in any way their yearning increased every day they stayed on the carrier. But to be honest, at least they have themselves. Y/n on the other hand was alone. Okay, not really alone, she has Bob and Javy back home but Hangman and Rooster suppose that her nights alone must have been really lonely for the young woman. They just hope that everything is okay back home, that their girlfriend his healthy, physically as well as mentally.

"Lieutenant Commanders, take a seat!" The Commander of the aircraft carrier sits at his small desk in the belly of the big Navy ship.

"First of all I want to thank you for your good work the last two weeks. As you know we are on our way back to the mainland which means that you will leave us." The Commander tells them. They already know that their deployment is finally over and that they will be back home in the next hours. Thank God. Both aviators can't wait to see their girl shortly.

After the last meeting with the commanding officer of the aircraft carrier they start to pack their bags and literally count the last hours on the cramped ship.

---

To say Monday started crazy was an understatement. The whole datacenter of the Navy base had failed and y/n tried her best to keep the damage at bay. She had countless phone calls with It-support members of other Navy bases but even in the late afternoon she knows that she has to stay much longer to get everything back on track.

"You're still here, sunshine?! What happened to make it a short Monday?" Bob says when he steps into her office. He just ended the flight training with Javy and the recruits and had a short talk with Mav. Fortunately the older man told him that he banned Welsh from the base and gave him an arduous task to do at home. Evaluating flight data is the perfect assignment to do from home and to make it even harder to take for Welsh, Mav called him numerous times during the day to check how much he really worked at home. He just hoped he can keep up the charade until the Admiral is back in some days.

"Hey Bobby. What can I say, I wanted to stick to the plan, but then the whole datacenter broke down. I'm still trying to save some lost data. Probably until midnight…" Y/n says with an exhausted sigh. She was more than tired but she can't just leave for the night when she knows that her task is not finished yet.

"Ehm…did you hear something from Jake and Bradley? I mean, did Maverick tell you something?" The young woman looks up from her computer and into the warm eyes of her aviator friend.

"Hey. What's that sad look, sunshine. It's already two weeks. They will be back soon, believe me. Mav just mentioned that there was no message that their deployment will be extended. So I guess you will hear from them in the next days." Bob tries to reassure her. Unfortunately the pilots were not able to contact their friends and family back home to tell them they're on their way back, so it will probably be a huge surprise when they step into the base tomorrow.

"Okay, that's good news, isn't it? They will not be away for more weeks?" Y/n asks hesitantly. She doesn't want to come across too desperate but after the Welsh disaster she is more than ready for her boyfriends to be back home. The feeling of being unsafe and watched just increased over the last days even when she stayed the weekend with Robert.

Bob takes a step around y/n's desk and squeezes her shoulder softly. "No, in that case the Commander of the carrier would've messaged Mav or the Admiral. After all we are short staffed because Nat, Rooster and Hangman are away."

---

Bob left shortly after y/n reassured him that he can leave her alone. She doesn't want keep him any longer at base and she drove herself to work so there's no reason for Bob to stay any longer at work than necessary. Of course she has a bad feeling in the back of her mind but she tries to keep her panic and bad feelings at bay. She is a grown woman, she has to stay strong for God's sake.

The vibration of her mobile which lays beside her on her desk makes her flinch. The last days she didn't receive any anonymous messages but the bad feeling lingers still in her mind. She hesitantly grabs her phone but lets out a sigh of relief when she sees the sender of the message:

Pete Mitchell: Hello y/n, I hope you're already at home and not still at base. Please don't stress yourself over the lost data… Well I have good news, I just got an Email from the Commanding Officer of the USS Harry Truman and told me, that Rooster, Hangman and Phoenix will be back home tomorrow.

She can't believe her eyes and read the text more than three times. Jake and Bradley are coming back tomorrow?

Y/n: Hello Mav, thank you so much. That are really good news. And yes I'm still at base but I'm almost finished with saving the data.

Pete Mitchell: Y/n, please go home. We don't want you overworked or getting sick from the stress. Please go home!

Y/n: Yes Sir! Thank you for the good news. See you tomorrow. Tell Penny I say 'hi'!

Pete Mitchell: Of course. Good night!

They're really coming back. A warm feeling is spreading through her body. The painful feeling of loneliness and missing her boys is finally over. The young woman decides to call it a night to be somewhat rested when Jake and Bradley come back tomorrow. She can't help herself but imagine finally sleeping with them in one of their beds again. Their warm bodies caging her in a blanket of love and warmth. Y/n smiled to herself as she starts to pack her bag and shutting off her computer for the day when a loud bang startles her.

She knows this noise, it's the metal door of the back entrance of the office building. She absolutely hates it when someone bangs the heavy door it always startles her when she's deep in thought during work. But now it's different. It's too late for someone being at the office building, Mav, Javy and Bob are already at home and the Admiral is still at the conference. Her heart starts to beat a bit faster when she thinks about the person who enters the office building that late in the evening. Could it be a recruit who forgot something and just came back? Or it's Bob looking after her and wants to give her a lecture that she's still at work. Y/n hurries and shoves all her stuff in her bag but she lets out a shriek when her office door suddenly opens with a bang, hitting the wall.

Her eyes widen in surprise and fear.

"Hello, darling. I knew you would be here when I checked your home and this pile of junk of a car was not there" The man kicks the door shut and steps closer to her. Y/n stands behind her desk frozen in shock. What is he doing here? He is not supposed to be here.

"Cat got your tongue? You're getting ruder, darling. Not talking to me… bawling your eyes out and playing the damsel in distress for Maverick… You know what happened?"

Welsh rounds the desk, making y/n back away but there's no way she can go, her back is nearly at the wall behind her. The young woman's body starts to shake, she feels like a small animal cornered by her biggest enemy. She looks at the ground not daring to look the man in front her in the eyes.

"ANSWER ME!" Daniel screams and now stands so close to y/n, nearly toe to toe, making her jump. Big hands are shoving her shoulders, her back hitting the wall painfully behind her. Fortunately she can prevent her head from making contact with the wall. She needs a clear head, she needs to form a plan to escape before the man in front of her escalates further. Y/n knows that she has to look up and talk to him. Her ex always escalated when she stayed silent and didn't look at him. She slowly lifts her head. An ugly smile is spreading on Welsh's face when her gaze lands on his face. She can feel her whole body shaking like the temperature fell under the freezing point. The man takes another step closer if this is even possible and grabs y/n's chin painfully in one of his hands, squeezing and lifting her face further. His face is so close to hers that she can smell and feel his hot breath.

"Please…" An almost inaudible plea tumbles out of her mouth. She pinches her eyes shut. This has to be a dream. Maybe she fell asleep at her desk or even at home in one of the boys' beds. This can't be happening to her, not again.

"Oh she actually can talk." Welsh laughs into her face his tight grip on her face never loosening. "So, I like my women polite and 'please' is just the right start."

A tear is making down the way over her cheek. Y/n feels the blood rushing in her ears and her heart painfully hammering in her ribcage. Her body is in escape mode. She needs to flight out of this situation but she feels like she's glued to the spot. Where could she even go? The bigger man in front of her has her in an iron grip and is blocking her way with his whole body caging her against the wall behind her.

"Darling, why the crocodile tears? I know you want it just as much…" He licks over her right cheek, tasting her salty tear.

With all her strength she tries to shove Welsh away from her. Bile is creeping up her throat after she felt his tongue licking over her cheek. She catches him by surprise when she pushes him away and he stumbles a step backwards. But before she can make a beeline to escape his looming shadow he pushes her forcefully against the wall. This time she has no chance to catch herself and her head bangs painfully against the wall, leaving her dazed and with a ringing in her ears. Before she can get her bearings back a big hand is squeezing her throat and keeping her once more in place.

"Always playing hard to get, but at home you're fucking two Navy men." He squeezes a bit harder, his rage clearly audible in his voice. Y/n struggles for breath, scratching at the man's hands which have her in a bruising grasp. So he clearly knows that she is in a relationship with Jake and Bradley. But y/n couldn't care less, in that moment she just tries to fight for her life. When her eyes start to roll back into her head due to oxygen deprivation Welsh loosens his tight grip he has around her throat.

"Oh no, darling. We are not going to sleep." And with a hard slap to her face he brings her back to reality. Her head flies to the side and she instantly feels her cheek bruising and her head ringing. The taste of iron is spreading in her mouth. His loosening hand makes her sputter for air. With painful gasps she tries to get as much oxygen in her lungs. She is not a stranger to pain and no stranger to these situations. The huge amount of pain she already has endured is enough to fill more than only one life. Here she is again, at the hands of a monster with no way to escape.

"You really have a thing for pilots, don't you? But these cowards you have at home… now you have a real man here. Did they fuck you here at base? I bet not…" Welsh grabs her painfully strong at her shoulders to maneuver her to her desk but y/n kicks out her legs and smashes her smaller fists into his chest.

"You fucking bitch…" The man gets more furious with the woman fighting back. He tosses her smaller body with so much force that her forehead ends up on the wooden desk with a loud crack and she stays face down on the furniture she worked at only minutes ago. The already lingering pain in her head only increasing with the huge force her head cracked on the wood. A small puddle of blood is already forming under her head. It feels like her head is on fire shrouded in blanket of painful fog. A loud cry is piercing through her office when she feels Welsh's fist connecting to her lower back. She must've blacked out from the pain in her kidney where his punch was placed strategically. He grabs a fistful of her hair when he bends over the small woman laying on the hardwood desk, whispering into her right ear. "I prefer sluts like you six feet under, but I'm really happy that Michael was too dumb to finish what he started. I think you have potential to become a good little pet." His hot breath makes her shudder.

He knows everything of her, he knows her past, her pain and her traumas. And he's using it against her now. His words make her head spin even more and she closes her eyes to ease the severe dizziness. She's sure that she has a concussion and now and also some damage to her lower back and at worst to her damaged kidney too. With a sudden shove he flips y/n on her back and his hand is instantly back around her throat keeping her in place. The young woman is almost certain that she's not going to survive this evening. She sees the pure rage and hate in the eyes of the man towering above her, holding her in the laying position on her desk.

Welsh is satisfied when he sees the blood dripping down y/n's face and her bruised cheek where he slapped her earlier. 

"You know y/n y/ln, the first time I saw your cute ass and beautiful face I just knew that you were a slut." Welsh steps between her legs. With all her strength the woman tries to shut her legs but still dazed and oxygen deprived she can't seem to have the slightest chance against the evil man.

"Such a good body…" Daniel loosens his grip around her throat making her sputter again for air. His hands wander down her body, stroking over arms. The hot touch of his big hands make her shudder. It's nothing compared to the loving touch of her two boyfriends. His touch feels dangerous, painful and absolutely disgusting. His hands stroking up and down her shaking arms, he clearly enjoys y/n's desperate look and the tears streaming down her face. He grabs the collar of her white blouse and with one forceful pull he ribs it open, exposing her heaving chest.

"STOP!" Y/n screams and tries to punch the man with her fist. She can catch him in his face with her fist but unfortunately not strong enough to cause any damage.

Her attempt to fight him makes him only more furious and another hard slap lands on her already bruised face, this time catching her higher near her eye.

"You fucking bitch…" His other fist lands a painful punch on her side. She is sure he cracked some of her ribs. Gasping for breath and whimpering y/n whishes Michael had killed her years ago but images of her boyfriends come to her mind. The countless happy moments, their warm embraces, their strong but not dangerous holds they had on her during the night. She needs to fight. She needs to fight to come back to them. She doesn't want to be a victim and sure as hell she doesn't want Welsh to kill her.

With one of her hands she searches for the heavy paperweight she has on her desk. Jake and Bradley gave it to her last year for her birthday. It's shaped like a plane and made of bronze. Both were so proud that they found that useless thing on a junk market. Her fingertips touch the cold metal figure but she is not close enough to grab it and bring it into her hand. When she hears a zipper being pulled down she looks up and sees Welsh opening his trousers. It's now or never. She stretches her arm a bit ignoring the pain in her back and her ribcage where her ribs are probably broken. But it's still not enough to embrace her chosen weapon with her small hand. With another glimpse at the man towering over her she sees him distracted, fumbling with his crotch and his briefs. She has to act fast otherwise he steals the last spark of dignity from her. With a sudden move she raises one of her legs and kicks as hard as she can, hitting Welsh directly into his crotch. With a loud scream he scrambles back. Distracted from the pain in his private parts y/n is finally able to get the paperweight from her desk. In a daze, like she's observing the whole scenario like a bystander, she pushes herself up from her laying position on her desk and smashes the bronze figure on Daniel's head. With a loud thud he falls to the ground, his hands still holding his crotch. Y/n is out of breath, her lungs painfully squeezing themselves but she has no time to catch her breath she needs to run. She can't wait for Welsh to come to and grabbing her again. The young woman holds her hand to her broken ribs and with her other hand she fists her bag and stumbles in the direction of the closed office door.

---

 The drive home in Bradley's Bronco was a blur for y/n. She doesn't even know how she got to the parking lot and when she recognizes the driveway of their shared home it's more than a miracle that she was really able to get there without crashing the car. The Bronco comes to an abrupt stop, standing in y/n's beloved rose bed in their front yard with one tire. During the whole drive she didn't seem to feel the majority of the pain but now stumbling out of then car she cries out when she strains her back too much. Welsh punched her really heavy into her damaged kidney and now she's certain that at least some of her ribs are broken. Breathing is getting more difficult and her heart doesn't seem to stop racing when she fumbles with the keys to unlock the front door. Tears are blurring her vision, the concussion is making her head swim more and the dizziness makes it nearly impossible to take a steady step into the house when she's finally able to open the door. After locking the door behind her she stumbles into her bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. It's already dark outside but y/n has no idea what time it is. For how long did Welsh assaulted her? Minutes, hours? Is it still evening or already night? The clock on her night table reads 11:56 pm but the whites spots dancing in front of her eyes make it impossible for her to see properly. Her hands are still shaking badly but she manages to lock her bedroom door. Too afraid that Welsh is looking for her and tries to break into their house. She stumbles further into her bedroom but on the way to her bathroom her knees give out and with a painful thud she falls to the floor. A heart wrenching sob escapes her throat. She still feels Welsh's hands chocking her until she was on the verge of unconsciousness, his hot disgusting touch roaming over her arms before he ripped her blouse. She feels the nausea coming back. Y/n knows she needs to throw up in the next minutes so she crawls the rest of the way into her bathroom and finally empties her stomach into the toilet in front of her. The heaves are painful and it feels like it's ripping her broken ribs apart further. Her heartbeat is painfully hammering in her head.

With a shaking hand she wipes the cold sweat from her forehead. A searing pain makes her hand withdrawal from her head and another loud sob is heard in the bathroom when she sees her bloody hand coming back from her forehead. She's bleeding. Y/n remembers now how hard she banged her head on her desk when Welsh pushed her forcefully. In trance she looks at her trembling bloody hand, pictures of the recent abuse of the evil navy pilot dancing in front of her eyes, tears falling into her lap. Her gaze lands on her ripped blouse and despite the shock she has another reality sinking in: He tried to rape her. He ripped her blouse, he was ready to hurt her further, he already pulled his zipper down, ready to attack.

No longer strong enough to hold her aching body up she lets herself sink onto the cold tiles of the bathroom, weeping breathlessly. The cold tiles which are pressing against her cheek are soothing the pain she feels in her head.

---

Y/n doesn't know how she rested on the cold floor, neither does she know if she passed out or just fell asleep out of exhaustion. She slowly blinks her eyes open and is instantly greeted with pain. Her whole body feels like she is on fire, burning from the inside. She once more is aware of the blood on her hands and her chest. Her head wound must've bled more when she was unconscious.

Y/n sheds her ripped blouse from her shoulders, getting rid of one of the evidences that what happened to her earlier wasn't a painful dream. She looks down at her upper body. Huge hand shaped bruises littering her shoulders and arms. She still feels his disgusting touch so she crawls over to her shower and tries to get into a standing position. The young woman wants to wash away his touch, her blood, she wants to wash away the whole attack.

"J-Jake…Braad…" she whispers to no one. She knows that she needs help, probably medical attention. Y/n needs her boyfriends.

On shaky legs she stumbles into the shower and turns on the water before she slumps down again in too much agony to stay standing any longer. The warm spray of water soothing her tense muscles but the pain stays in her body like a bad omen. When the spray finally hits her head the water is slowly turning crimson, washing away some of the remains of the recent events.

Y/n stays in the shower until the water is slowly turning cold and she starts to shake violently, now from the ice cold water and not only from the shock of the events.

When she finally succeeds to turn off the spray of water she crawls out of the wet shower and wraps herself into her fluffy towel as best as she can.

There she is, laying on the floor shaking like a leaf in her wet underwear in only a towel, slowly slipping into unconsciousness.

---

"Bobby!" Phoenix squeals when she sees her friend in the distance.

"Hey, you're finally home." Robert embraces Nat into a tight hug. Since they're all permanent at the base stationed and instructors for new Navy pilots the Dagger Squad are a very tight knit group and these last two weeks separated once more showed them all how dearly they miss their friends when being apart.

"I wouldn't call this shithole home, Bob." Bradley grumbles but pats Bob's shoulder in a friendly manner.

"Oh come on. This base is homey, the carrier was a shit hole." Nat laughs at Rooster's bad mood and she knows for certain who pissed in his cereals. He wants nothing more than to see y/n and is more than pissed that the trip home took them a bit longer due to bad weather.

Jake squeezes the shoulder of his partner in a reassuring manner. He also can't wait to see y/n, to kiss and hug her as tight as possible.

"Come on Rooster. Let's surprise y/n. She's in her office isn't she?" The blonde aviator asks Bob when all four of them make their way towards the office building.

"I think so, it's…" Robert looks at his watch, "…already 0930. Didn't have the chance to see her today. The crabs were eating our nerves today. You owe us, me and Javy." The younger man chuckles.

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Progress of Janeuary Prompts and Chapter 43 of Trying to Tread Water

*Edit*

CHAPTER 43 IS UP

8/02/25 Update

Chapter 43 of T3W: As of right now, it's at 8.2k words (almost all of that increase was done within the last few days) and I'm in the home stretch! Between the illness and general busyness it's taken longer than I wanted (and I forgot to post an update last week because of it) but all that's past now so I fully expect it to be posted next week.

I was hoping to get it up looong before Valentine's Day but I suppose there's something fitting about that seeing as it follows directly on from Chapter 42. They're almost part a and b of the same chapter, so it might be a good idea to reread (at least the ending) of it just before this next one comes out. I should also start seriously considering getting the 'what if was smut' and higher-rated bonus/extended scenes into an uploadable state but I won't really worry about that until at least this chapter goes up because my brain is noisy enough right now.

Janeuary: No major updates here, since everything has been jotting down notes and planning. I've also been persuaded, by popular demand, to give 'Dear Lady Catherine' two more chapters to show the crucial moments of how that story unfolds, so that's been added to the to-do list. Everything's going to be uploaded intermittently whenever I finish them even though Janeuary's technically over, since the event still allows late submissions and these little plot bunnies won't leave my head until they're typed out.

I hope you're all doing well and thank you for following up with me and being understanding! Hopefully I'll be giving you lots of goodies soon <3

24/01/25 Update

No real change from last week. I've been busy with the twins turning 3 (!!) and we currently all have a cold.

The Day 20 Janeuary prompt is probably closest to being posted, but when I finish it is heavily dependant on how fuzzy my head feels. Btw, I don't think any of the prompts will be done on the right day but they're all still going to be posted, regardless. I laugh in the face of due dates.

18/01/25 Update

Chapter 43 of T3W: I'm about 5k words in and it's going well. I might have to do some heavy rearranging of the second section depending on how the last goes but I don't think anything has to be scrapped so that word count should only be increasing.

Janeuary: Very behind but still working away (before anyone comes for me: I'm doing this during the times I can't work on T3W because I'm too tired or there's too many distractions and I have to keep pausing, etc. The proper fic requires significantly more brain power and care than quick one-shots).

Also:

I can only see one of these, so unless you sent me a Day 20 prompt about Kitty/Colonel Fitzwilliam (an update on that below) please resend your ask! I think the inbox ate some.

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Janeuary 2025 Prompts done so far:

Day 8: Cravat 'Elizabeth Overestimates her Ability to Tie a Cravat' - Rated G, 3k words, Elizabeth/Darcy, sweet, first kiss, post-canon.

Over the period of their engagement, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy take many long walks. During an unseasonably warm late October day, Mr Darcy loosens his cravat and removes his jacket. Elizabeth finds this a very educational experience. But when it comes time to put them back on, she cannot for the life of her figure out how to knot the cravat properly after insisting she do the honours.

“My dearest, and loveliest, Elizabeth,” he gently began. “You have no idea how to knot a cravat, do you?”

Also Day 8: Cravat 'Inappropriate Use of a Cravat'- Explicit, 6k words, Elizabeth/Darcy, author's first smut, the prompt was from the wildest ask I have ever received but I made it seem normal, smut, established relationship, post-canon, the cravat is part of the smut.

After an absence of some weeks, Mr Darcy and Elizabeth are very eager to be alone together and don’t even make it to the bedroom. As it’s been a while, Mr Darcy doesn’t think he’ll hold out very long if Elizabeth keeps lavishing attention down there – so she ties his cravat around the base of his shaft, to prevent an early end to their enjoyment.

Her surprised gasp was silenced by his lips, her own eagerly parting as she tangled her hands into his hair to keep his face pressed to hers. Pushing Mr Darcy against the wall – door – something, she melted against him, his hands digging into her waist, revelling in the taste and feel of her. “I missed you,” she said again, drawing back to kiss a line down his throat, “so much.”

Day 11: Card Playing Artwork- Which is the banner of...

'A Losing Hand' - Rated G, 2.9k words, Elizabeth/Darcy, canon compliant, falling in love and FIGHTING it, banter, awkward flirting, unrequited crush.

Mr Darcy is falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and he is not best pleased about it. His pov of that enlightening card game in Chapter 8 of Pride and Prejudice when they discuss accomplished women.

Darcy could only look at her – the light challenge in her gaze, the slight smile that accompanied it. He could debate with her all day.

Day 16: Gossip 'Dear Lady Catherine' - Rated G, 4.2k words, Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Jane Bennet/Charles Bingley, Canon divergence, Lady Catherine is in peak form, and facing someone who's allowed to argue back, Character development, Speedrunning Darcy's realisations, Self-reflection

Following the Netherfield Ball, Mr Collins happily gossips in a letter to Lady Catherine that her that her nephew may be on the verge of matrimony… to Miss Bingley. He overheard his cousins talking of the lady’s attentions and quite misconstrued everything. Lady Catherine, as incensed as she could ever be, goes to confront her nephew in London… and arrives in the middle of the ‘Why You Should Not Marry Jane Bennet’ intervention.

Yelling ensues. And maybe more than one instance of self-reflection.

OR

In which Mr Collins has the sacred duty of sharing gossip he wasn’t supposed to know; Lady Catherine is of infinite use, which ought to make her happy, for she loves to be of use; Miss Bingley learns what all her attempts to secure Mr Darcy’s affections have amounted to; and Mr Darcy himself is full of pride and confronted with his hypocrisy.

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Janeuary Prompts in progress/ideas:

Day 13: Christian Name - A few people wondered what Darcy was really thinking in Chapter 42 of T3W when he was talking about how he imaged Elizabeth calling him Fitzwilliam:

“How did you imagine it?” she enquired with a frown. Mr Darcy blushed a deep crimson. “Mostly, mere casual use.”

And I thought that made a great prompt for trying my hand at some more smut.

Day 20: Dearest - An anon sent a prompt for some Kitty/Colonel Fitzwilliam Fluff, and since I've never considered them before it was a fun exercise to think about how that would work! I started a draft of it as I worked out some ideas so this will definitely be happening.

Day 27: Cousins - Toying with the idea of doing a sweet glimpse of 5 or so years into the future, featuring little Bingleys and Darcys. Not sure if that's something anyone's interested in though.

Day 29: Carriage - A missing scene from Pride and Prejudice featuring Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam

Day 30: Garden - Another Pride and Prejudice missing scene with Darcy's pov of something Elizabeth mentions in passing.