#but going forward if i ever do post this kind of thing again & you do not want to see it the tag to blacklist would be “erichxtanya”

[holdupjack]

Jump The Line Pt.1

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Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: 1950s/WWIII/pretend enemies

WARNINGS: None

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Third Person P.O.V:

December 12th, 1965

Y/n stood at her post on the march of a small town in her country. It was just a small wall of barbwire and sandbags, but right on the other side, were hundreds of witches and wizards.

(A/N: A 'March' is just another way to say 'border')

It was kind of surreal to think that something so insignificant, was their only line of defense. Hell, Y/n could jump it with ease if she wanted to.

But, now thinking about it, it really wasn't their only line of defense. There was her. The recruit that was a few months fresh out of boot camp, and was now the sole gun that stood guard on this strip of border.

It was very much terrifying, and a lot to put on one's shoulders. The only other soldier on this street was two blocks away, and he wasn't even awake half the time. So...she just bit her tongue and held her gun by its strap over her shoulder. She would stare at the wall on the other side of the street for almost twelve hours at a time before anyone bothered to relieve her from her post.

Everyone in this small town knew that they needed more soldiers stationed here, but there just wasn't enough to go around. Their enemy outnumbered them here, and they knew that was well, yet they just hovered around the borderline.

Watching, talking amongst one another in hushed voices, or sometimes one of them would walk up and ask her if she had a smoke. It was honestly quite strange, and a little unnerving.

But, there was only one small upside to this whole thing, and it was also an upside that would get her into more trouble than she could ever imagine. There was this certain...witch.

Ugh, it was ridiculous, honestly. She was one of the communication liaisons for their leaders, and they happened to work around the same time every day. From 6 pm to 6 am, Y/n would watch as the brunette went from tent to tent with papers and files tucked under her arms, sometimes even arguing with the higher ranks in the area while doing so.

Y/n never knew what they were arguing about, it was all a bunch of gibberish to her, but the only real thing she had learned was the woman's name.

Hermione.

A wizard had yelled at her for doing his job, to which she immediately stood toe to toe with him, barking back in his face that he should be 'better at it since he was watching her do it for so long'. It took everything in Y/n to not laugh because the man was a good foot higher than her, and yet she held her ground.

Their eyes had met a few times throughout Y/n's new post, but it only lasted a few seconds each time. The soldier thought it meant nothing, and wouldn't be surprised if the liaison cursed her whole lineage in her head.

But then, something mysterious happened.

Y/n had been where she always was, staring at the wall across the way, only really looking across when there was a sudden movement, or something caught her eye. So she was quite spooked when a soft voice called out to her from the left, where the border sat.

"Hello there"

Y/n blinked and looked over to find the intriguing liaison standing right at the edge of the waist-high wall. It was around 3am, and both sides were quiet as church mice, which is what usually happened when the moon came out to greet them.

"Uh, hello" Y/n replied in surprise. She wasn't a hundred percent sure if she was even supposed to be talking to her, but then again, it wasn't her first time talking to the enemy. They were kind enough to feed her during her patrols since she was told repeatedly that she would be reprimanded if she even thought about lifting her eyes away from the border.

You don't even want to know about the bathroom situation.

"May we speak for a moment?" The brunette asked, and Y/n subconsciously leaned on one foot to the other. She hesitated before taking a few tiny steps forward and tightening her grip on the strap of her rifle.

"I don't bite, you know" Hermione laughed softly, and Y/n opened her mouth to say something but ended up just closing it a few seconds later. She was nervous for multiple reasons, which incidentally caused her tongue to shrivel up, but thankfully the other woman was more talkative at the moment.

"My name is Hermione Granger, I am the communications liaison for this battalion, and you are...Y/l/n? Do you perhaps have a first name?" She joked as she read the tag on her uniform, to which the soldier stood up straighter and finally found her voice.

"Y/n, I'm a soldier" she replied and the witch nodded, her eyes flicked up and down the fighter's body a few times, before meeting her gaze again.

"I'm like you, except with powers" Hermione states, and Y/n furrowed her brows in confusion. From what she knew, the enemy was a hidden society that lived under our noses for centuries!

Then again, they are just people as well.

"How so?" Y/n asks as she takes another tiny step forward, her eyes watching carefully as Hermione chuckles and pushes down the wrinkles on her own uniform.

"I was just like you, a regular little girl in London" she explains and the surprises Y/n. Regular? So, she wasn't magical a birth? Fascinating.

"Really?" Y/n asks as she takes another step, a shiver then runs up her spine as snow clouds rippled over the landscape just outside of town. It wouldn't be long before she was stuck in a powdery downpour. God, that's the worst thing about this area of the country around wintertime, it snowed more often at night than it did during the day.

"Truly" Hermione replies as she takes a step forward as well. It wasn't long before they stood directly in front of one another, and there was a strange mix of awkwardness, fear, and curiosity. It felt wrong to even look at the other person, but at the same time, the rush felt very nice.

"How did you know? When you got your abilities, I mean" Y/n stammered as she anxiously held her gun by its strap over her shoulder. Even though there was barely anyone else on the streets, it was still nerve-wracking to think that they both could accidentally start a battle or be severely reprimanded.

"Little things. When I got very emotional, strange moments started to happen. Objects would disappear, change color or size, or even levitate if I was angry enough" Hermione explained as she watched Y/n tilt her head in thought, even tracing the bricks under her feet with the tip of her boot. The witch found it endearing since this was the first soldier she had tried to speak to, that didn't immediately put a gun in her face. So, that was refreshing.

"That's very interesting, but I doubt you've called me over to chitchat about our lives" Y/n replied with a slight smile, the brim of her cap blocked the light from the street lamp from hitting her eyes. Hermione was surprised by the insight but was glad to know that she didn't have to beat around the bush.

"You are right. The real reason I am here is because we would like to send a message to the civilians within the town and any military personnel." Hermione says as she clears her throat and straightens her posture. Perhaps to make herself more official, or maybe just to remind herself that she had a job to do.

"Message?" Y/n mumbled to herself as she furrowed her brows, and noticed as Hermione pulled out a large yellow envelope from somewhere. Maybe she was holding it? Y/n wasn't entirely sure.

"We are giving anyone who would like to leave the area, a chance to do so without problems. We have our forms of transportation that can send them wherever they would like to go." Hermione says in almost one breath, and Y/n is stunned to hear this. Was this...a warning? That something big was about to happen?

"I understand the civilians wanting to leave, but soldiers? You're asking us if we want to abandon our homes? Betray our country?" She asked calmly, but it was obvious she was offended. The brunette quickly shook her head and held the envelope over the waist-high barbed wire.

"No, no. It's just...a suggestion" she says with a slight breath as Y/n has to hold back the urge to snatch the documents from the other girl's hand. Hermione watched as the soldier pulled out the papers and read them over carefully, even stepping back to be directly under the streetlights.

This was big. It was multiple copies of the same thing the witch had said. Anyone who wanted to evacuate was more than willing to come to the border with a bag and would be taken anywhere they'd like. Free of charge.

Y/n stuffed the papers back into the envelope, and turned her back towards Hermione, before giving a loud whistle down the street. The brunette raised an eyebrow in slight confusion before a boy, no older than 18, came jogging down to Y/n. He could barely hold up his weapon, and he seemed very on edge, almost like a deer in headlights.

"Ryland, stay here and guard the border. I have to take these papers to command, immediately" Y/n explains in a hushed tone, watching as the young man nodded, his helmet blocking his eyes for a moment before he quickly pushed it back up. Everything on him was way too big, but it wasn't like the world had time to tailor his uniform right now.

"Yes, of course" he stammers before Y/n quickly runs off into the darkness with the flyers in hand. The young man, Ryland, Hermione thought she heard, quickly pointed his gun at her.

"Back! Or I shoot!" He shouted in between a stutter, and Hermione quickly raised her hands and backed away with an annoyed expression, but then again, he was probably scared out of his mind.

Hermione made her way back into the nearest tent as a cold wind blew just behind her, and then soon the soft shine of snow began to fall onto the thick dark fabric of the shelter. She sighed softly and pulled up a chair to the table in the middle as everyone slept soundly in their cots.

She should get some sleep, but she wanted to speak to that soldier again. She was obviously much kinder, and less likely to jump the gun. Literally.

Hermione jumped as another loud clash of a distant mortar erupted from outside the village, and she couldn't help up laugh at herself softly and lay her face in her hands. She really didn't find it all that funny, but she'd rather laugh than cry.

After spending a few months on the front lines in England, she's found herself very scared of loud noises. It reminded her of grenades, artillery, and the distance fire of tanks.

So, she just laughed it off. The last thing she needed was to be sent back home when she knew she could help end this war sooner than later.

It also didn't help that she had been fighting against other muggle-borns who had chosen the other side. Seeing classmates on the opposite side of the front lines, with nothing but muggle weapons. She had seen a few break their wands before returning home, knowing that it was the only way they could leave the Wizarding World without much resistance.

Speaking of home, her childhood house was destroyed during the invasion of London. Thankfully, she had her parents move into a rented home hidden in the mountains in Europe. They're protected from the battles and hidden by magic, and that's all she could really do.

"Oh Merlin" she whispers softly as she rubs her temples, fighting off sleep as it tries to creep in, feeling her eyes droop closed and then shoot open repeatedly. Finally, she stood up and shook her head in an attempt to awaken herself, but it only made her yawn as she quietly walked over to the flap of the tent, opening it enough to peak out into the snowstorm.

She was surprised to already see Y/n right back at her post, the snow drenching the thin uniform she wore as flakes blew off the brim of her cap. Had Hermione been thinking for that long? No, it must have only been a few minutes, but their base of operations must not be that far from the border.

"She doesn't even have a winter coat on" Hermione grumbled quietly as she took in Y/n's appearance from what she could see due to the low glow of the street light.

"Who doesn't?" The whisper came from behind her, and she instinctively jumped and whipped her head around, but only found Harry with a smile on his lips.

"Harry! Don't do that! When did you even get here?" She states, almost with a hiss in her words from the annoyance that filled her body within a fraction of a second. She hated being scared.

"I just took the portkey from the base in lower France, but you still haven't answered my question" he replied with a chuckle before turning the chair she was sitting in earlier, towards her and taking a seat. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to peak through the flap again.

"If you must know, I was speaking about the soldier I had just spoken to" she replied and Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. He sat up slightly and rested his arms on his thighs.

"A soldier spoke to you? Really? They said they must be more open-minded around here" he joked as he watched Hermione continue to stare out into the storm. He sighed softly and stood up as well, walking over to take a peak with her.

"Trust me, I've gotten more barrels in my face today than I'd like to experience in my whole life" she mumbled as she shivered slightly due to the temperature drop. Harry squinted slightly to see better in the darkness, and then he noticed something immediately.

"A woman? Ooo, does Hermione have a piqued interest in the enemy?" He teased and the liaison rolled her eyes at his childlike banter. Sometimes she just wanted to knock him to the ground just so his sarcastic jokes would take a backseat for a while.

"We talked for maybe two minutes, and don't even insinuate that I have any feelings towards the other side! Do you want me to be thrown in Azkaban for treason?" She asked quietly as her eyes darted around the tent at all their sleeping allies and Harry just rolled his eyes at her anxiousness.

"Whatever" he sings softly before plopping down on an empty cot. Hermione sighed in frustration at his nonchalant attitude, acting as if this whole war and situation were nothing to worry over.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked out at Y/n one more time, silently debating a question in her head. Should she, or should she not?

To be or not to be, that is the question.

With a few seconds of pacing, Hermione grumbled to herself as she snatched one of the umbrellas that was leaving against one of the support poles. It popped open almost immediately as she stepped back into the storm, and her eyes zipped back to Y/n.

"You'll catch a cold!" she called out once she was close enough to the border again, which just caused Y/n to jump again. Their eyes met through the onslaught of snow and dim streetlights.

"A cold? I think that's the least of my worries" Y/n replied, having to raise her voice because of how loud the wind was. Hermione chuckled and held the umbrella's handle just a little tighter.

"That is true, but to not even have the proper attire on is a little much" the brunette replied as she rocked from foot to foot, now starting to realize that she should really have thought of some conversation starters before she walked back over here. But maybe she was just nervous, and her causal responses had gone on vacation because of it.

"Sounds like you're trying to get me to leave my post" Y/n murmured, and Hermione stammered so bad, that she stuttered for a solid five seconds. The only thing that snapped her out of it, was the single thought that passed her consciousness.

TODAY WOULD BE NICE!

"Th-That-. Dammit! That's not what I was getting at!" She coughed out, and Y/n didn't even react to the humiliating ten seconds that would haunt Hermione's nights at random points in her life. Instead, the witch only noticed the smirk on the soldier's lips.

She stared at Y/n's side profile for a few seconds, deciding whether to yell at the enemy for the sake of her pride, or take the hit and turn in for the night out of shame. She opted for the latter, but yet, her legs stayed firmly planted where they were.

"That is not funny," she says and Y/n turns enough to catch the other girl's gaze, her smirk barely being held down, the evidence was by the twitching in the corners of her lips.

"I don't know, I enjoyed the way you reacted. It was like watching a baby dear trying to walk on ice" Y/n snickered and the witch coughed out what was almost a laugh, but it sounded more offended than anything.

"Are you trying to start the battle?" Hermione sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes for only a moment, just to clear her racing mind. But when she opened them again, she was greeted by the fact the Y/n now stood directly across from her.

She stepped back slightly out of habit but just as quickly returned her foot to where it was before. Hermione didn't know how Y/n was able to move that quickly, but now it was harder to see her face because the streetlights were behind both of them.

"I am a little bored," Y/n said, but the look in her eyes told the brunette that she was just teasing, and in all honesty, it felt good to hear someone joke about things again. It's not like either of them had a choice in the matter, it was WWIII after all.

When Hermione got her letter from the Ministry, telling her that she had been drafted, it took her through a loop. She was going to just hide out from the drafting, but when Ron made it his whole personality to become a soldier, that's when she and Harry had no choice in the matter.

They couldn't let him die, especially since he has a remarkable ability to run into danger without even realizing so. This is why they both are now begrudgingly on the front lines and why Hermione was even a part of this useless war.

The muggles were going to win, and that was obvious. Their weapons and sheer numbers were enough to destroy the Wizarding World if they kept losing people at this rate. Thankfully, she had heard rumblings of a plan to retreat and go back into hiding, and that's really the only thing they can do, and hopefully think of a way to make the world forget about them again.

"A little bored? You look as if you're about to jump out of your skin" Hermione laughed as Y/n rolled her eyes, but it was true nonetheless. Anyone would be spooked if they were a stone's throw away from the ones who were perceived to be their enemy.

"So do you" she replied and the brunette nodded in agreement since she knew that she was one loud noise away from booking it.

"You got me there," she said as her eyes shifted to the small pile of snow that lay on the brim of the soldier's hat, she was almost tempted to reach out and brush it away.

"So what brings you back over here anyways?" Y/n finally asks, her head tilting to the side for a moment, it seemed like a force of habit whenever she wanted to know the answer to something that intrigued her. Hermione didn't know the answer, sadly.

"Can't blame me for being bored as well, can you?" She asked in return and Y/n just smiled before scanning her eyes across the multiple tents that littered the street on the enemy front.

"I suppose not, it is a ghost town around here" Y/n mumbled before their eyes met again, and she noticed a faint scent of flowers that invaded her senses, as a howl of wind fluttered Hermione's hair in front of her and the cold air nips passed Y/n's bare face.

"You're a native of this country, correct?" The brunette asked and Y/n nodded, her shoulders relaxing as time went on, and Hermione's grip on her umbrella loosened as well.

It wasn't till the sun began to peak in the sky and the snow stopped, did their conversation finally ended, but they both knew that this wasn't the end of their interactions. It was far, far, from over.

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December 20th

It was the start of Y/n's shift, and when she stepped around the corner to walk towards her post, she was surprised to find a long line of people from around the town. They were talking quietly amongst each other, all facing towards the border with a suitcase or two in their hands.

"Oh, wow" she whispered under her breath as she slowly walked towards the front of the line.

"Y/l/n! Help me with these civilians!" A voice called out, and her eyes darted to find Ryland and a wizard setting up two planks of wood on both sides to help people walk over the border. Y/n quickly jogged over as Ryland nailed the last of the supports into place, before standing up.

"What's going on?" She asked quietly as she was handed a camera and a clipboard filled with the same form to be filled out multiple times. She was about to ask another question, but the younger boy quickly spoke before her.

"I need you to fill in the information on these people before they cross. We need to find them again once this battle is over" he whispered in her ear as the Wizard across the border gave a thumbs up to them when he finished building his side of the ramp.

"Right. Right. Got it" Y/n said as she took a deep breath, taking a pen out from her chest pocket, and stepping towards the little elderly couple just before her. They gave soft smiles, to which she gave one in return.

Hermione was asleep in the tent nearby, she had worked a double shift that night and had only gotten a few words in with Y/n during that whole time. She hated being a liaison sometimes, due to all the communication screenings she had to do when it came to communication between the village's needs and peace negotiations.

Also, the constant snowfall wasn't helping either during her jogs between the radio communications tent and the tent that was filled with higher-ups and their idiotic plans on how they could possibly take control of the town with minimal loss.

Newsflash, that wasn't possible.

"Hey, get up" Hermione somewhat heard as someone gently shook her shoulder, and she immediately snapped her eyes open in fright. She grasped the person's wrist, but then realized it was just Harry.

"Woah, it's just me," he says quickly. She takes a deep breath and pushes his hand off her shoulder, resting back on the cot and staring at the ceiling of the tent. It was dark out, and the only light was the few lamps and small furnaces around the shelter.

"The civilians are being brought over the border, they want you out there to make sure that everything stays calm between the exchanges," Harry says as he leans over to look down at her, she sighs and covers her face in a silent form of frustration.

"Of course, they need my help" she groans quietly before sitting up with a bit of strain. Her back was aching from being on her feet for so long last night, and she honestly just wanted to sleep for a few more hours. She was so drained.

"What time is it?" She grumbles as Harry decides to pour her a hot cup of coffee and hand it to her, then sits on the empty cot across from hers.

"Twenty past six" he replies as he looks at his watch, his eyes following the second hand as it traveled its sixty ticks around the watch face. Hermione's eyes flicker with intrigue before she hides her interest behind the sip of her coffee.

"Alright, I'll be out in a moment" she hums as she stands to freshen up in the women's facilities tent, but Harry's eyes zipped up to her with a small smirk on his face. She knew that look, and she was already rolling her eyes and groaning as he followed after her.

"You want to see your girl, huh?" He whispered in her ear as they walked out the back of the tent, and she scoffed, pulling her winter coat close to her as they shuffled through the snow.

"You are such a child, she just happens to be the only person with any interesting conversation in this place" she replied defensively as Ron ran up behind them, ringing his arms around their neck as he began to walk with them.

"I see your 'lover girl' is helping with the exchange" he chuckles as Harry snickers and pats his stomach as a silent 'hello'. Hermione glared at them both, before shaking off Ron's arm.

"How did you even know about her? You haven't even been here for a day!" She huffs as she steps into the women's facilities, and quickly stops them both from entering with her. She poked her head out from the flaps of the tent and smirked at their grinning faces.

"I swear, you two gossip more than the old bitties at the tea house. Anyway, I've only known her for eight days. Isn't that a little fast to call it love?" She asks as Ron scoffs and leans against Harry's side with his own. Hermione raised an eyebrow at his immediate dismissal.

"I've fallen in love for less. I once dated a girl because I liked the way she said 'Rutabaga'." He says with a nod and Harry thinks for a moment before turning to him with furrowed brows.

"Wait, was that Mandy? I liked her, she made amazing banana bread" he says and Ron looks back at him with eager agreement,

"I know right? I was thinking about calling her once this whole thing is over" he replies, before they both start reminiscing about Ron's ex, and in all honesty, Hermione doesn't even remember who they're talking about. So she just rolled her eyes and slinked away into the tent while they were distracted.

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Y/n yawned softly as she used her torch flashlight to continue to write down all the information about the citizens who were either leaving the country or just going outside of town. She was freezing still, but at least her commander was kind enough to find a coat that had been found in the collection bin. It was just thick enough to protect her from hypothermia, but she was still cold as all hell.

"Name?" She asks a young mother, who had her toddler bundled up on her hip. They both looked exhausted from just waiting in line for so long,

"Ruth Magryn, and Joan Magryn. Joan, wave to the nice soldier" she says with a tired smile as the little girl waves with a small giggle. Y/n grinned and gave the girl a quick tickle to her stomach, which made the kid laugh in excitement and hide her face in her mother's shoulder.

"Hello, Joan. May I know where you two are heading?" Y/n asked as she readied her pen by the 'location' box on the form, but before the mother could respond, a voice called over.

"Y/n!"

Her head snapped behind her, recognizing the voice almost immediately, and she broke out into a small grin when she saw Hermione standing there in a winter coat that looked a little bigger than her. She kinda looks like a kid wearing her parent's coat.

"Ryland, trade spots with me," Y/n said as she watched the young boy help a child over the border, and then immediately run over to take over her post. He took the cupboard and stuttered over his words as he greeted the mom and child.

"Ah, good afternoon Ms.Granger" Y/n said once she was close enough, and Hermione gave a soft laugh as she stepped to the border as well. Formalities? That's new.

"Ms.Granger? Have I done something wrong to be reduced to formalities?" She asks jokingly, even though a part of her brain is slightly panicked about it.

"No, I'm just teasing. How are you? I saw you running around all night yesterday" Y/n asks before she and Hermione help the mother over the border first, with Y/n holding the toddler who looks a little entranced with the soldier.

"Just running useless errands" Hermione sighs before smiling at the mother as she helps her down onto the other side.

"And who is this?" She says with a bit of a laugh as she and Y/n step onto both sides of the ramps, meeting each other in the middle.

Their eyes meet and they fall into a beat of silence as they are now less than an arm's length away. Hermione noticed the snow that was still caught in the crevices of Y/n's jacket, and Y/n noticed how Hermione's hair was slightly damp. She must have just taken a shower.

"Uh...oh! This is Joan" Y/n chuckles as she looks down at the toddler on her hip, before slowly passing the child over to Hermione, who Joan immediately greets her with a little laugh.

Their skin touched, and for only a moment, Y/n's cold fingertips ran against the side of Hermione's hand, and the brunette didn't know if she shivered from the cold or...

No. No! It was cold. This was her enemy, now wasn't the time to play the dating game. She took and deep breath and forced a smile as they both walked back onto their appropriate sides.

"Hello, Joan" Hermione greeted as she playfully shook her little hand before passing the child to her mother's arms. Hermione then pointed to Ron, who stood casually against the wall of a building nearby.

"That is my friend, Ron, he will take you where you need to go," she says before the mother gives a quiet 'thank you' and walks off with her suitcases.

"So, they had you running around all night for useless things? Sounds a bit like a waste of your resources" Y/n says as Hermione steps back towards the edge of the border, her arms crossed over her chest.

"My thoughts exactly" she grumbled before Y/n chuckled to herself, looking over to check on Ryland, who seemed to be as anxious as usual. He really needed to relax, she feared he'd start shaking like a chihuahua soon.

"Hey, can I ask you a completely hypothetical question?" Y/n asks quietly, which causes Hermione to lean in to hear a bit better.

"Let's say, we win the war. What will happen to you....guys? Yeah, you guys" She asks quietly, clearing her throat at the end, before meeting her gaze again. Hermione opened her mouth but shut it just as fast.

What should she say? What CAN she say?

"Well, uh...hypothetically, we'd probably go back into hiding" she whispered, hoping that putting her trust in Y/n won't bite her in the ass in the future.

"Alright, that makes sense...what about you? I'm guessing you'll go home back to London, right?" She asks and Hermione stiffens at the thought of her home, that now laid in ruins. Technically, she had no home to return to.

"No, it's best if I didn't," Hermione says quietly. Y/n furrowed her eyes in confusion, but before she could ask a single question, a large family emerged to be helped across.

That was the end of their conversation for the night, but this particular subject wasn't going to be forgotten.

——————

December 24th

Y/n stood at her post like usual, it was snowing again, but Y/n didn't mind it this time. It was Christmas snow, and it did make up for the lack of people and holiday cheer that was lacking in the town now.

It was only an hour until it was officially Christmas Day, and all this patrolling gave Y/n more than enough time to wallow about missing the holiday season with her family and traditions.  Then again, it wasn't all bad.

"Hungry?"

Y/n turned to find Hermione with two plates of food in her hands, both steaming with a feast of actual food. The MRE packets weren't bad, but they weren't the best either since she's been deployed here.

"Hell yes" Y/n sighed in relief as she walked over to the boarder and graciously took the paper plate and plastic fork. Hermione chuckled softly as she leaned against the wall of the building beside them, and began to eat quietly.

"Thank you, you didn't have to get me a plate" Y/n soon says in a quiet tone, but you could still see the smile that she tried to hide by taking a bite off of her plate.

"I wanted to" Hermione replied simply as they ate together in a comfortable silence, maybe only a minute went by before she decided to speak again.

"Have you spoken to your family? With the holidays and all?" Hermione finally asks, watching as the snowflakes melt from the steam before they hit the plate.

"I've gotten a few letters, but I don't really have time to call as much as I wish I could," Y/n says with a small hum as their eyes finally lock together, and Hermione gives a small smile.

"Well, at least you know they're thinking about you," she says and Y/n nodded in agreement, before leaning against the building as well.

"What about you? Has your family called?" The soldier asked.

"Yes, they called me just a bit ago to wish me a Merry Christmas" Hermione said as she poked at her glaze-covered steamed carrots. Y/n noticed the lack of energy in her response and hesitated for a moment.

"And?" She asked, and Hermione sighed softly.

"And...they wished I was home with them, that they didn't agree with what the Wizarding World was doing to their-...our world," she says as she takes another deep breath, since if she didn't control her breathing, she might cry.

"War has no good or bad side. There are only good and bad leaders" Y/n says and Hermione just chuckled to herself. If that wasn't the truth, then she didn't know what it was.

It was quiet again, both of them now almost halfway through their meals, and Hermione felt a bit of courage run across her soul. Which made her stand up slightly, but before she could ask Y/n something, the soldier spoke first.

"A few days ago, you said that you wouldn't return to London, hypothetically. How come?" Y/n asks and Hermione gives a soft laugh at her attempt to 'hide' their questions still. Nobody was even around to eavesdrop on them. But she'll play alone, just for the soldier.

"Well, hypothetically, if you had been a part of the whole battalion that invaded your hometown, would you want to go back?" She asks in return and Y/n's eyes widen before nodding in understanding. Hell, she probably would have been shot before she even crossed the border if she had done that.

"I see your point" she mumbled as there was another string of silence. They both stared back at their food and quietly finished what was left, and soon their empty plates began to catch the snow that fell from the heavens.

Hermione slipped her gloved hand into her pocket, and pulled out a copper pocket watch, popping it open to see that it was now 5 past 12. It was Christmas Day.

"Happy Holidays, Y/n," she says quietly as she shuts the watch and stuffed it back into her pocket. The soldier smiled to herself as she folded up the plate and threw away the grave in a nearby trash can...or a postal box? She couldn't really see that well in the darkness, and snow.

"Happy Holidays, Hermione" Y/n whispers back as she looks up at the cloud-covered sky for a moment, seeing deep purple ripples between the clouds, almost faint enough to miss if you weren't looking.

"Look, would you possibly...want to share a nightcap? With me? It is Christmas, after all," She added, just in case it wasn't obvious that this was a small invitation. To break the rules, just this once. It was a holiday, and she thought that it wouldn't hurt to have a 'Christmas Truce' between them. Hell, if it worked in 1914, then it could work now.

Y/n blinked in surprise before turning back to Hermione, almost missing her completely. If it wasn't for her silhouette, Y/n might have just ended up talking to a wall.

"A nightcap? Here?" She asks in return and Hermione's back tightens as she stands up straight, slowly walking over to the ramps that were still standing as a walkway over the border.

"Well, I was thinking of a tent nearby? If you just stripped your uniform, nobody would notice" she says quietly as her foot hits the side of the ramp, ever so gently. It was honestly a stupid idea, now that she thought about it. It was crazy to think that Y/n would ever willingly put herself in potential danger-

"Well, maybe just one drink" the soldier replied.

Hermione's eyes widened, and just for a split second, her heart was thrown off its rhythm. This is crazy, she thought. Then she cursed at herself silently for repeating what she already knew to be a fact.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asks, just in case the holiday spirit was messing with Y/n's mind as it was hers, but Y/n didn't even pay it any thought. Instead, she hid her jacket and helmet behind the lamppost, leaving in just a tank top and her military pants and boots.

"Hurry, before you freeze" Hermione laughed in a bit of disbelief as she dropped the plastic plate and fork in the snow. In the back of her mind, she felt bad about littering, but she didn't care that much at the moment. She'll pick it up tomorrow.

She held her hand out as Y/n balanced on the snow-covered bridge, their hands clasping together like magnets in the darkness. There was a sense of excitement as Y/n stumbled slightly onto the other side, making Hermione shush her with a small laugh.

Y/n laughed as well as she began to smile, their hands never disconnecting as Hermione pulled her into a small jog, sticking them close to shadows as they weaved through the spaces between the tents. Hermione would peer around corners and pull the soldier quickly once the coast was clear.

As they sneaked past the biggest tent, there was a bunch of people inside singing carols and drinking together. Hermione pressed her free hand to Y/n's chest, before slipping away from her grasp to slip into the tent herself.

Y/n kept herself in the shadows, shivering slightly, since she was still without her thermal coat. Too bad it made her a walking 'I'm your enemy' type since the colors of her country were on it.

Hermione returned a minute or so later, with an open bottle of wine under her arm and two dixie cups. She grasped Y/n's hand again, noting it was colder than before, and subconsciously picked up their pace.

They found a vacant tent, and Hermione sighed in relief since the furnace was still burning inside. Once Y/n stepped inside, it was more obvious how cold she was, the biggest indicator was the bright red nose.

"You look like Rudolph" Hermione chuckled to herself as she watched Y/n from the corner of her eye, who looked at her with a smirk. There was something about it that had Hermione fighting back a grin.

They both sat down on the two chairs near the furnace, Hermione poured some wine into the two cups and passed one to Y/n. Fingers brushed against skin again, but neither said anything about the flutter between them.

"I have to ask, what's it like to use magic?" Y/n asks quietly, since anyone who overheard them, would know she wasn't on their side in an instant.

"Honestly? It makes regular life a whole hell of a lot easier" she admits as she took a sip from her cup, it wasn't her favorite type of wine, but she didn't have many options.

"Must be nice...you mind casting a spell to do my laundry for me?" Y/n asks playfully, which makes Hermione do her quiet laugh, she leans forward slightly before her quick breaths make a few noises come out.

"Sure, after this is all done" she finally replied as she looked back at Y/n who was leaning back against the chair, her sole attention on Hermione. They both got quiet before the brunette found her bearings and took a quick intake of breath before finishing the last of her wine in the dixie cup.

It wasn't long until one nightcap, turned into two...then three. Before eventually the wine was gone, and their cheeks were rosy pink. They weren't drunk, but they were definitely a little more than tipsy. It was the sweet spot for the subconscious to take over while your conscious took the passenger seat, only piping in when they thought about saying something or doing something stupid.

"I can't wait for this whole thing to be over. I want to go back to simplicity" Y/n sighs as she rests her head against the top of the backrest, her hands interlaced flat against her stomach. Hermione sat beside her watching Y/n with a bit more intensity than either noticed, her arm on the top of her backrest and leaning her head against her knuckles.

"It'll be a while until both worlds return to normal" Hermione added and Y/n nodded in agreement, before sitting up fully to look back at her.

"When that happens, do you think you and I could...meet up? Maybe get dinner or something like that?" Y/n asks, and Hermione blinks in surprise, sitting up as well. They stared at one another as the witch fought the urge to pound on her chest as her heart fluttered like she would do to her old TV that would static at her old home all the time.

"Yes! I mean, uh, sure. I would like that." Hermione breathed out as they both leaned their elbows on their knees, faces too close for anyone to see it other than what it was. Pinning. Yearning. Hesitation.

Slowly, they moved closer. Both have a million thoughts running through their heads, but none of their concerns even fostered their movements. Y/n could smell that flowery perfume even better than that one time before, it was subtle. It was made to only be smelt by the wearer or someone close enough to touch her skin. It was addicting.

Hermione eyes fluttered closed as the distance between them was about to disappear, wondering if this was too soon. If the 'maybe' outweighed the risks. If Y/n could be more than a fun thrill.

But it didn't matter.

Because the air raid sirens began to blare.

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Christmas kindness letter

To Remedyturtles AKA Remrose,

I’ve read a good chunk of your fics. Probably just about all of them. And what constantly amazes me is your way to just… draw me INTO the story and leave me literally unable to put it down. What’s especially funny about that is how you write a lot of Leo-centric things, and my favourite turtle is Donnie. Leo is my second favourite, though. But I didn’t think I’d ever be so captivated by the stories you tell about him, especially with how heavy with the angst they get.

The first longer fic of yours I read was Stare Directly at the Sun. Which I read in pretty much one sitting. I don’t even know why I clicked on it— considering, as I said, Donnie is my favorite, and I actually do not care for human AUs. Somehow, this one drew me in and locked me there. I loved it. 

And Firefight? That took over my LIFE. I powered through it, literally spent HOURS just sitting on the couch reading it (and even reading it outside on a nice day). I joined while it was incomplete, and read what was there in only a few days. Then, I read every subsequent chapter as soon as I could. It was a legit highlight of my day, something I looked forward to, and I was hooked so bad like you wouldn’t believe. It was sad to see it end, but what a beautiful journey it WAS. I love love loved it, especially how long you took to focus on the healing of Leo and Donnie… they went through hell, indeed, and managed to come out the other side stronger. Even Leo, who scared the SHIT out of me for so long. But I’ll cut myself off, here. I could go on FOREVER about Firefight, you have no idea. I’ve been meaning to read this one again, actually. I need to.

The last fic I want to highlight, of yours, is actually one I don’t see talked about much: Take One For the Team. That one. That one. It was haunting. It was sickening./pos It was gripping. I could. not. put. it down. It was horrific to watch Leo go through that, to watch him deteriorate, and even though you didn’t detail his… extracurricular, I felt violated along with him, simply because of how he reacted to it, and how you wrote him processing (or failing to process) it. Slash pos. Seriously. This one. THIS ONE. I guess it isn’t talked about much because it’s a very sensitive topic, but if people can read it, they should. Holy shit, incredible.

I’m not sure what makes your writing so captivating. Maybe it’s how you write the characters. Maybe it’s your style. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know. But it’s easy to get lost in, and so easy to get attached, to CARE, and to feel along with these characters. Reading your stories is like sitting in the passenger’s seat of a friend’s car on a long road trip. You experience everything together, and, to me, it feels pretty damn special. 

Anyways. I’ve prattled on enough. If you’ve got more gems planned, I’ll be happy to read them (in the meanwhile, I have on my list to read Little Kid With a Big Death Wish because I HAVE NOT READ THAT YET I have TOO MANY FICS TO READ/lh it’s on the list tho).

Have a very Merry Christmas!! :D

@remedyturtles

Christmas Kindness Event Post

[volfoss]

it is beyond infuriating how anne rice seems to insist on marius being a positive force in anyone's life ever. like she can't fully commit to exploring the fact he groomed armand and has repeatedly taken away his consent for what marius thinks is best (take the end of TVA as an example) and just kind of flatly puts it in the narrative. there's not really much interest in how these horrific events make marius come across as the worst because EVERYONE loves him. for gods sake, lestat learns from armand exactly what marius did to him in TVL and then proceeds to go find marius and be super friendly to him in the same fucking book. even armand and pandora, two of the people who have MORE than enough right to hate him, do not. it doesnt feel like shes trying to explore the toxicity of the abusive dynamic he traps them in, it just is there. and like yeah ofc the toxic vampire romance series but i think that this should be handled with more care. and it is not ever really framed in a way that she is interested in exploring how marius should easily be one of the most horrific characters in this series because it kind of feels like sa/rape/grooming/other things of that sort are just put there to further plot and not to really get the respect that they deserve in a medium.

[dailydegurechaff]

Are you have others soscial media ? Like IG or twitter. I love to know and follow you. Your art so cute and not much people draw Tanya and her people (like rerugen and zettour) by the way I'm fans tanyaxrerugen lmao🤣

My other social medias can be found >here<! Most of them are actually pretty inactive/private tho, Tumblr is my most frequently used platform. (I only open twitter like once a month & instagram i barely ever post)

As always, thank you for the compliment, it makes me very happy :,) It's a shame people don't draw Tanya interacting with others often, those are often her most hilarious moments.

On the topic of Tanya/Lergen, I actually have some sketches of them that I drew a while ago. I never really intended to post them but... well here you go. I know some people don't like it, so I'll put it under a cut.

[pucksandpower]

I’m a Feminist

Franco Colapinto x team principal!Reader

Summary: everyone knows that Franco has a thing for older women, okay … so when his team principal turns out to be a (stupidly attractive) older woman, he can’t be held responsible for his actions

Franco sprawls in the chair, arms crossed over his chest like he’s holding court instead of facing an emergency meeting. His grin is wide, cocky even, and wholly unapologetic. Across the desk, you pinch the bridge of your nose, willing patience to come like some kind of divine miracle.

“Explain,” you say, voice flat, your tone giving nothing away. You refuse to let him see how utterly exhausted you already are by this conversation.

“I sneezed,” Franco says with a shrug, “and liked all your pictures. Really, it was — how do you say — an accident.”

You stare. No, you glare. "And commented damn mommy on all of them?”

Franco falters — barely. There’s a half-second where his grin wavers, his bravado cracks, but then it’s gone, replaced by another shrug. “I-I have the flu?”

Your exhale is sharp, just shy of a growl. “Franco.”

“What?” He leans forward now, feigning innocence. “Is it so bad? You look muy guapa in your photos. Should I not celebrate my team principal’s beauty? This feels sexist, no?”

“Sexist?” Your eyebrows climb so high they might leave your face.

“I’m a feminist,” he announces, as if that explains everything.

“Do feminists call their bosses ‘mommy’ in the comments?”

“Only the hot ones,” he shoots back without missing a beat, then quickly adds, “Joking! I’m joking.”

You slam your palms down on the desk, the sound sharp enough to make him flinch, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. If anything, it widens. “Do you even understand how unprofessional this is? I have sponsors asking me if I’ve been hacked! The CEO of Dorilton Capital called me himself this morning!”

Franco’s face lights up like you’ve just paid him a compliment. “Darren! He likes me. He said I was charming.”

“He said you were a walking HR violation!”

His grin falters again, but there’s something annoyingly endearing about how quickly it returns. “Well, at least he talked about me.”

You sink back into your chair and drag a hand through your hair. God, you’re tired. “Do you even know how this looks? You went through every single photo I’ve ever posted. Franco, that’s-”

“Dedicated?”

“Obsessive,” you snap. “Creepy. Insane.”

“Romantic,” he offers, leaning back again like he’s just solved a puzzle.

“You are twenty-one years old!”

“And you’re …” He trails off, letting the sentence dangle in the air like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

He smirks. “I was going to say timeless.”

“Franco, enough.” Your voice is sharp enough to cut through his bravado, and for the first time, he looks a little serious. “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put me in? If this gets out-”

“It won’t.”

“It already has! You didn’t think people would notice when every post I’ve made since 2016 suddenly has your username in the likes and comments?”

Franco shrugs. “I’m a fan.”

“A fan?” You throw your hands up. “What are you even a fan of? My press conferences? My sponsor meetings? My ability to yell at you when you ruin your tires on lap seventeen?”

His grin returns, this time with a little more sheepishness. “How sexy you look doing that last one, mostly.”

Your head falls into your hands, and for a moment, there’s silence. You think — foolishly — that maybe he’s finally run out of things to say.

But no.

“You never answered my DM,” he says, voice lighter, teasing.

Your head snaps up. “Excuse me?”

“Last week,” he says, tilting his head like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I sent you a DM. Very respectful. Very sweet.”

“I don’t even check my DMs!”

“Well, now I’m offended.” He places a hand over his heart like he’s genuinely wounded.

“I’m going to lose my job,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Franco says, waving you off. “You’re too good to lose your job. Everyone knows that.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’re the one who’s dramatic! I can’t believe I’m sitting here having this conversation right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re not flattered,” he counters, leaning forward again. “I thought women liked grand gestures.”

“Grand gestures?” You bark out a laugh, humorless and sharp. “Franco, this isn’t a romantic comedy. You don’t win me over by cyberstalking me!”

“Cyberstalking?” His mouth falls open, mock-offended. “That’s harsh, no? I think of it more like … research.”

“Research?”

“Sí. I’m just a very dedicated employee.”

“Dedicated?” Your laugh this time is louder, more incredulous. “I swear to God-”

“Would it help if I apologized?” He interrupts, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering.

“Yes,” you say immediately.

He doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head, watching you in that unnervingly focused way he sometimes has, the one that makes you feel like he’s cataloging every detail of your expression. “You wouldn’t believe me, though. Even if I apologized, you’d think I was lying.”

“Because you would be lying.”

“Touché.” He grins again, but this time it’s softer, less of a weapon and more of a shield. “Okay, so maybe I’m not sorry. But I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

“I mean it,” he says, and for the first time, there’s something like sincerity in his voice. “I thought it was funny. I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem, Franco. You didn’t think.”

There’s a beat of silence. For a second, you think you’ve finally gotten through to him. His expression shifts, the grin fading into something that almost looks like remorse.

Then he says, “But if I had thought about it, you’d still be mad, so really, why bother?”

“Franco!”

He laughs, bright and unrepentant. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more liking your pictures, no more comments, no more DMs. Contenta?”

You eye him warily. “You swear?”

“On my life.”

“Franco.”

“On my seat,” he amends, holding a hand to his chest.

You sigh, long and heavy, but you nod. “Fine. Just — keep your head down for a while, okay? Don’t give anyone else a reason to call me about this.”

He stands, smoothing his shirt with exaggerated care. “Anything for you … mommy.”

“And don’t call me ‘mommy,’” you snap as he heads for the door.

He pauses, hand on the handle, and glances back over his shoulder, smirk firmly in place. “Not even in private?”

“Franco!”

He’s laughing as he leaves, the sound echoing in the hallway long after the door closes behind him. You sink back into your chair, exhausted, and wonder — not for the first time —if this job is going to kill you.

And if it does, you think grimly, it’ll probably be Franco Colapinto’s fault.

[ladadiida]

𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color.  You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly.  You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ''what are we?' with skz

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff and a little angst and a lot of uncertainties

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: in honor of 'i like it' , i think this is a very fitting first post lmao

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - “whatever you’d like us to be.”

He smiles, and you swear it lights up the whole room. Sweet, considerate Chan who never wanted to make you uncomfortable by rushing into things. The man you’ve been seeing for months now that didn’t put a label on your relationship just to give you space and time to sort out whatever else was going on in your life. The one who’s been there for you even if he didn’t have to, especially since you weren’t official, or anything at all.

The best man you could ever ask for.

That’s why, the next action feels like the most natural one.

Taking a deep breath, you return his smile and lean forward, resting your forehead on his. He stares deeply into your eyes, mesmerizing you with their beauty while his smile never falters.

“Then, would you do me the pleasure of being my boyfriend?”

Chan can’t help but chuckle, swiftly grabbing you by the waist to set you in his lap before pecking your lips. “It would be my honor, baby.”

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - “you tell me.”

Looks you dead in the eyes, with one eyebrow raised defiantly, the food he prepared and laid out nicely suddenly forgotten. This wasn’t the answer you were expecting. However, it’s such a Lee Minho one that you can’t even be surprised for more than a moment. Shuffling in your seat, you clear your throat before complying, all caution out the window.

“You’re my boyfriend. Only mine.”

Minho nods slowly just like a cat, his doe eyes never leaving yours as he continues to give you his undivided attention. “Alright. So then, what are we?”

You watch him, trying to understand what exactly he wants to hear right now. Your answer rests on the tip of your tongue yet, you hesitate, not knowing if he shares your feelings on the matter. He’s always been a complicated man, not giving anything away.

What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

You take a deep breath. “We are…lovers. A couple.”

This causes Minho’s smile to return, eyes twinkling again as he finally pushes a plate of food in your direction. “There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - “whatever we are, I like it.”

Changbin shrugs, bringing you closer to his chest by the arm he wrapped around your shoulders. The movie on the tv serves as background noise as your feelings threaten to overwhelm you, ready to take you down a well-known path of overthinking. What does that even mean?

Does that mean that he likes you? Loves you? Dislikes you with every fibre of his being but is too comfortable to say it? Usually, you would appreciate Changbin’s laid-back nature but now, it only makes you feel worse.

Why do relationships have to be so complicated? With him by your side, you thought it would be all smooth sailing but it looks like that isn’t the case.

“Y/n?” He asks, tearing his eyes away from the screen. “Is everything okay?”

His concern seems real, but is it really? Or is it just an act meant to have you fall even deeper in love with him? At this point, you don’t even know.

Shaking your head, you hide your face in the crock of his neck, choosing to ignore your screaming mind in favour of basking in his affection just for a while longer.

“Yeah, things are great.”

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - “is this your way of asking me to make it official?”

Ever the hopeless romantic, Hyunjin gives you the sweetest smile, the sight making your heart beat faster. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to make things official with Hwang Hyunjin. But, would he want that or is he just playing with you? Your concerns seem unreasonable since he isn’t that kind of person but you never know.

“And what if it is?”

The smile turns cocky, resembling a smirk more than anything. “So, you like me?”

You giggle to hide your growing embarrassment and nerves. “I mean, I’m sure you know the answer to that question.”

He fakes ignorance, looking at you with big, puppy eyes that still pull at your heartstrings. Hyunjin knows all the buttons he needs to push to get you wherever he wants.

“Nope. Do tell.”

Without missing a beat, you say exactly what’s on your mind, wanting to pay him back for all the teasing by short-circuiting his brain.

“I love you.”

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - “Is that a rhetorical question? You genuinely want an answer?”

Poor baby has never been more flabbergasted in his entire life. What do you mean ‘what are we’?! This isn’t high school, and you aren’t kids, what are you even confused about? He’s always made himself as clear as possible when it came to your relationship.

“You’re my baby, the love of my life, what kind of question is that?”

You shrug, turning on your side to face him. “Be more specific, Sungie.”

His mouth falls open comically, and you do everything in your power to not burst out laughing at the sight.

“We’re literally laying in bed together right now. I said I love you less than five minutes ago.”

You move closer to rest your head on his sturdy chest. “Yeah, but what exactly ARE we?”

Jisung stares down at you without a word for a few moments, trying to understand if you’re fucking with him or not until he sees the beginning of a grin stretching across your face and scoffs, turning to face away from you.

“Go to bed, Y/n, I’m too tired for your nonsense.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - “what do you want us to be?”

You’re greeted by big, hopeful eyes as Felix turns to look at you like you’ve got all the answers he’s ever sought for. Like you’re a genie that is capable of granting his every selfish wish. For him, you kind of are since your relationship pretty much marches to the beat of your own drum, with him just tagging along for the ride.

Felix would like to change that though – would love to just take matters into his own hands for once and answer your question with full confidence. But, he can’t. So, he throws the ball in your court again, wanting to avoid getting hurt.

You don’t answer right away, instead letting your head fall on his shoulder as you take your time to think his question over.

“How about…we try being more than friends?”

His face lights up instantly, buzzing with happiness at your proposal. Beaming, he nods before gently grabbing the back of your head to connect your lips in an eager kiss.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - “a mess.”

You’re expecting to see him smirking or even rolling his eyes at your question, however, once you turn around, none of those things happen. He’s just looking at you, face devoid of any emotion, and that’s when you realize that to him, this is serious. Seugmin isn’t playing around nor is he avoiding the subject – that is genuinely what he thinks on the matter. To him, whatever relationship you’ve developed, is a complete mess. If it’s a mess he enjoys or on the contrary, finds troublesome, is a question for another day.

“Well,” you begin, still taken aback by his blunt answer. “You’re my mess.”

This time, he does roll his eye, acting more annoyed than he actually is as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and lean down to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Whose else would I be, dummy?” he shakes his head, voice uncharacteristically soft. Turning around in his seat, Seungmin moves to embrace you properly before burying his face in your soft hair.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - “you know what we are. You just want to hear me say it.”

You nod, taking another sip from your drink before releasing his hand. “Alright. Then say it.”

When he sees you stop in the middle of the crossroad, he follows, visibly confused. His hand moves to grab yours again, however, you pull away, shaking your head.

“Answer me properly, Jeongin.”

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to wrap his head around what’s suddenly gotten into you. Did you really want to have a conversation as serious as this here, out in the open? What was happening?

“I – “ He feels his whole face warm up, voice cracking and not allowing any other words to slip out. Jeongin knows what he wants to say, he’s had a whole speech prepared for a while now. But, being put on the spot like that has him freezing up so, he ends up giving a totally different answer, one that breaks both of your hearts simultaneously.

“We’re…” He pauses, looking down, “just friends, of course.”

The look on your face hurts so much, he almost doubles down in pain as you turn your back to him and walk away from his life, presumably for good. He has really screwed up this time.

[felikatze]

QoL as Kindness: ISAT's diagetic tutorials

This is the hopefully first of a series of posts I'll be doing reinterpreting ISAT's Loop through the lens of START AGAIN: a prologue's context. As such....

Major spoilers for both ISAT (all acts, including optional content) and SASASAP (all endings).

One of the biggest differences between ISAT and SASASAP is it’s QoL – it’s Quality of Life. QoL refers to all the little things that make a game just that little bit more playable; quick to navigate menus, quicksaving… tutorials.

It’s not really a surprise that SASASAP is as RPGmaker as RPGmaker gets. This isn’t a criticism, just an observation, and also a compliment to how much Adrienne’s skills with the engine improved between releases. Still, there’s some things that ISAT has over SASASAP.

ISAT’s QoL is absolutely essential to making it bearable. Anyone ever watch an ISAT playthrough where the player sighed in relief as the tutorial on picking where you loop came up?

SASASAP lacks a lot of ISAT’s QoL because it’s an earlier project without a studio backing it, but what impresses me is how this change ties into narrative.

Because the greatest chunk of ISAT’s greatest QoL is provided by Loop.

Even before you ever meet them, they’re already over your shoulder. Loop is the tutorial, speaking to you inside your brain. It’s genius, in that no player is ever going to question this. Hell, SASASAP’s movement tutorial is the exact same thing with less flavoring

This reframes what the QoL is – it’s not just a convenience to the player, it’s a convenience to Siffrin, too. It’s diegetic. It’s not something the game is giving you, it’s something Loop is giving you. Let’s look at what Loop gives you, and more importantly, why.

Zone Out

The first of the QoL features I want to talk about is the Zone Out function, the absolute bread and butter of not making this game a total slog.

The Zone Out feature as is did not exist in SASASAP (because Adrienne didn’t know how to do it yet) – instead, some doubled scenes let you just skip them entirely outright. There’s only two extremes: listen to all of it again, or none of it.

ISAT’s zone out system is much more dynamic, since it fast forwards dialogue line by line, letting you zone in whenever you’d like, and forcing you to zone in whenever a) something notably new happens, or b) whenever Siffrin speaks.

The way this feature is introced by Loop is kind of genius. Because Loop’s tutorial is about one thing – it’s okay to skip.

“You might miss what your party is saying, but who cares, right? If you make them mad, you can always loop back and they'll have forgotten all about it!”

It’s a cruel joke, or at least it seems that way on the surface. It’s also genuine advice. And a cruel joke at the same time. For Siffrin, freshly starting the loops, this is scandalous, but for Loop, who’s long since desensitized, it’s the same old same old.

What Loop’s doing here, by joking about Siffrin not listening to the party, is alliviate Siffrin’s guilt when they inevitably take Loop up on the offer. Because, even though Loop loves their party members…

From SASASAP, when sitting outside the bathroom:

(Will you get farther this time?) (Will you live this time?) (Or are you stuck listening to the same lines forever?) (…) (Stars, you’re so tired.)

Loop knows intimately well that Siffrin is going to drive themself insane trying to be a people pleaser every single loop, so this joke is telling the outright – don’t bother.

At first, Siffrin (and the player) still might. I really enjoyed reading the same conversations five times minimum because they’re fun and I’m deranged, but at some point I did start skipping them. And it was a relief to know there wouldn’t be anything new.

Siffrin: “Should I check everything again?” Loop: “You mean, should you check the same barrels, the same closets, the same objects on tables every loop?” Loop: “I mean, you can, but… You know things won’t change, right?” Loop: “If you really want to get a certain item again, or listen to your friends repeat something funny, you should!” Loop: “I personally would only check two or three things every loop, and ignore the rest.” Loop: “It will just make you crazy to expect something to change, when nothing will.” Loop: “All that might change is your reaction to it!”

The game is telling you, Loop is telling Siffrin, don’t drive yourself insane playing, please. The characters aren’t going to remember if you skipped something.

In the course of my script wizard activities, I’ve gotten an in-depth view of just how much that actually holds up. Pretty much all major differences are by Act, unrelated of how often you’ve done something. Minor variations apply for other things, but… those variations are minor.

And this also points out what all those variations are. Siffrin’s reactions!

Loop’s pre-empting Siffrin’s guilt, cuz they probably felt it themself. Hell, we do know they felt the pressure to perform and make sure nobody notices anything’s wrong, in SASASAP! Right up until the finale, Loop was driving themself up the wall.

(You have to act, you can't crack, you have to fake it and play it exactly as you did the first time for the whole way through so your friends don't find out anything is wrong) (You don't want to know what would happen if they knew their quest was in vain) (If they knew their quest for justice and change always ends in stillness and death!)

Acting everything out perfectly is one of the ending paths for SASASAP, which results in… complete and utter failure. Obviously.

(You acted perfectly normally, didn't you?) (Nothing out of place, nothing weird, every line the same as it might've been the first time?) (Ah…That was your mistake, wasn't it…?) (Because… Didn't your very first time… end exactly like this?) (The King throws the Housemaiden's body onto the floor again.)

Zoning out for too many conversations actually awards weird points in SASASAP, locking you out of the Perfect Ending. On the other hand, acting “perfectly” in ISAT… has no awards whatsoever. No special scene or or optional event or anything at all. You get nothing for paying attention!!!

So spare yourself the pain already, m’kay?

(On that note: I don’t think Loop not being sarcastic about it would’ve like… worked. At the start of ACT 2, Siffrin isn’t going to believe Loop when they say “Stop forcing yourself to relive the same thing over and over because you’ll start seeing your friends as disposable actors and lose touch with reality.” That all comes later, when Siffrin can look back on Loop’s words and see how right they were.)

Loop Back

The second biggest sigh of relief in any given ISAT playthrough is probably this specific tutorial.

Loop graciously shows you that you don’t need to loop back all the way to the beginning every single time. You can pick and choose where to go, even going forward by paying up with Memories of Skirmish.

This is a feature SASASAP does not possess, for the reason that it is much, much shorter, only covering about as much as one floor of ISAT’s three floor House.

But… since this is a character showing this to you, Loop showing this to you, we can ask… when did Loop learn this? After all, START AGAIN, Loop’s loops, do not have this feature.

“It'll save you time, so it's important, so listen up!”

This feature not existing in SASASAP means this is a thing that Loop did not know exists during their own time as Siffrin.

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? SASASAP’s Siffrin does not know how to do this. They cannot pick and choose where they end up, as demonstrated wonderfully by SASASAP’s True Ending. There’s an even more wonderful implication, though –

On SASASAP’s Perfect End path, when exiting the final room before the King, Isabeau says this:

Isabeau: “…I'm glad you're feeling better, though!” Siffrin: (…?) “What do you mean…?” Isabeau: “Oh!!! Um, you were…” Isabeau: “Well! You were acting a little weird when we were way closer to the Castle's entrance……” Isabeau: “You weren't really listening to us, you were kinda smiling the way you do when you're actually not happy…” Isabeau: “…and you like, almost acted like you knew exactly where you were going?” Isabeau: “But clearly you're feeling better now! You're acting just like normal!!!”

SASASAP’s Siffrin knew how to do this, somehow managed to lock themself into the House’s last floor… and then forgot how to get back. By making this tutorial, Loop is ensuring that Siffrin never will.

“What can I do next?” – SASASAP’s greatest flaw

So, if you’ve had the pleasure of playing START AGAIN START AGAIN START AGAIN: a prologue yourself (as you should), then you’ve probably faced this scenario, or some variation of it:

I got to the end, I died to the King, but… what do I do next? The game tells me to go for the extremes, but how do I do that?

(edit: apparently some of yall just managed to speedrun sasasap in two loops. You're gonna need to stay with me here, please. Suspend your disbelief a bit, because a lot of people [including me] were dumbasses about it)

Maybe you try another loop, but just get the same ending again (or a differnet one, depending on a coinflip). You’re getting frustrated. Getting the Perfect Ending demands pinpoint precision to avoid everything weird, the True Ending demands good memorization of every single damn key in the game, and the order you do everything in. (Though, to be fair, the requirements on that one are actually more merciful than one might expect.)

Point is, in SASASAP, it’s incredibly easy to get stuck in that endless loop of “What the fuck do I do now?” It’s not uncommon to think you got it right only to get the same result anyways. What does one do in this situation?

They consult a guide, obviously.

START AGAIN’s ending requirements are frustrating. They are. When I tried to go for either the Perfect or the True Ending, I saved inside every single room, just so I could get right back to it when I inevitably fucked up five times minimum. This is both criticism… and praise. Because Loop is the major reason that ISAT does not suffer from this same problem.

Whenever you’re stuck in ISAT, Loop is just a single loop or call away at any times. And besides that, no plot requirement in ISAT demands nearly as many moving pieces all at once as SASASAP does – the “Sus Route” has been relegated to an optional ACT 4 exclusive event, instead of the game’s True Ending.

Instead of consulting an external guide on how to progress, you have one right there in the game, always ready with the next tip. They’re not infallible, mind you – enough time in Isatcord’s #game-help proves that, but Loop solved all of the moments I got stuck and frustrated in ISAT for me.

(Primarily that one time you need to figure out that a photo is similar to being stuck in time. That moment in particular is actually commendable, as you need to ask Loop about it twice before they tell you, leaving you a last shot to try and figure it out on your own.) Loop is a feature that nullifies SASASAP’s greatest flaw in its successor, and they choose to do so.

Memory of Keys

In my humble opinion, Loop does this because… they do not want Siffrin to suffer as they did. They want Siffrin to escape. And there is no greater example of their kindness than how Loop treats keys.

First of all, all keys in the game have a sparkling effect on them if you’ve picked them up at least once before, making it immediately clear where in the room they are. This means you don’t need to search every single room top to bottom for them, as you had to do for any keys and Star Crests in SASASAP. It’s some nice QoL that just means you don’t have to re-search the same area if you happened to forget which specific cupboard the key was in.

Key point being: SASASAP did not have this feature. In SASASAP, you did have to memorize where all the keys are, and doing so is expected if you want the True Ending.

Loop does not want Siffrin to have to do this. Because…

From SASASAP’s True End:

(The torch in the infirmary? That’s important!) (The key in the book? Soooo important.) (The names of your friends, that have been by your side throughout this entire adventure?) (Not worth remembering.)

Compared to ISAT’s ACT 2:

Siffrin: “How come I can see where the keys are?” Loop: “Whaaaaat? You caaaaaan? How can that beeeeeee?” Siffrin: “Is it thanks to you?” Loop: “Maybe.” Loop: “I figured you'd have other things to worry about than where a stupid key is.” Loop: “No need to thank me.”

To Loop, that they memorized the House’s layout over their friends’ names is a defining moment to their own failures. After all, in all likelihood, the True End of SASASAP is the last loop before they called it quits. It’s a traumatic experience from them, one that came from having to remember all the dumb fucking keys.

They do not want Siffrin to experience this. They do not want Siffrin to have to memorize the House, to push away what actually matters in favor of efficiency. So Loop is directly, personally, giving them a boon, so that Siffrin does not have to.

Conclusion

There’s probably more tutorial things I could talk about, but I feel like you’re seeing the pattern now, even if I don’t bring up saving level ups or keeping equipment or the “You’re stuck” signifier, least of all cuz they don’t have direct points of comparison with SASASAP like my other examples do (SASASAP has no changeable equipment, and saving levels doesn’t matter if you only have one floor, and you can’t softlock either.). So.

Loop’s tutorials all belie a fundamental kindness to their character. Everything that made their own experience trapped in the timeloop just that bit worse, they’re choosing to do away with it for Siffrin. They are choosing to make Siffrin’s time here easier.

Zoning out too much lead to them never paying attention to their friends, forgetting their names, so they make sure that Siffrin can still zone back in whenever something new happens.

Loop trapped themself for years on the final floor, locking themself out of progress that might lie further back, so they’re ensuring Siffrin knows exactly how to loop forwards and backwards so it doesn’t happen again.

Loop lets Siffrin keep equipment across loops to cut down on time spent doing the exact same thing over and over.

They are saving Siffrin time, and they are giving Siffrin comfort. At every single turn, Loop is saving Siffrin from the same pitfalls they fell into without anyone to guide them out.

It's honestly incredible to transform an increase in skill into an actual narrative element. Yes, SASASAP sucks more to play. But ISAT sucks less, because Loop wants it to. It's the perfect marriage of real world circumstance and storytelling. I could... probably pull another comparison here, saying it's like a game and its remake - overhauled graphics, expanded story, and loads and loads of QoL, because the makers of the remake realized something. They love the original, but parts of it do suck, and there's so much that can be done to make a new player's experience smoother. Metanarrative commentary,,,, woah,,,,,

Every single one of these QoL elements I’ve mentioned function as a crutch for a player’s failing memory, but also Siffrin’s (similar to what I talked about in my previous essay on ISAT’s ludonarrative - the player and Siffrin are always in sync, even in how tutorials benefit them). Loop doesn’t know the player exists though (only the Change God does), so they do everything for Siffrin.

To keep Siffrin from forgetting. To help Siffrin focus on what’s important. To make Siffrin’s journey just a little bit less miserable. Loop directly improves ISAT’s QoL. For you. For Siffrin.

From Loop’s introduction:

Loop: “See, I’m useful! I’m very useful! That’s why I’m here, helpful Loop.” Siffrin: “Why are you helping me?” Loop: “…” Loop: “Because I think you should be helped.” Loop: “I won’t always have the answers, but… I think having someone on your side to talk to is better than dealing with this alone.” Loop: “Right?”

From Loop’s hangout:

“But it’s fine.” “Whether you believe me or not, I’m here to help you.” “So you can escape this loop.”

And finally, from the start of ACT 3:

Siffrin: “Are you really here to help me?” Loop: “Stardust…” Loop: “…” Loop: “Yes.” Loop: “If you can believe anything, believe that.” Loop: “I asked to be here, so I could help you.”

And I do believe them. Loop’s feelings on Siffrin are… complex, to say the least. They love Siffrin, and they hate him in equal measure. They’re jealous, and spiteful, but underneath everything…

In SASASAP, if you die to a Sadness thrice, you get this monologue:

(Sometimes, when you loop back here…) (In the corner of your eye, you can sometimes see someone that looks just like you.) (Is it a you from another loop? Remnants of your past failures?) (Are you going crazy?) (May they succeed where you cannot.)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

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Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

read part 2 here!

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

[lamiadrowned]

*:･ﾟ✧ where everything is good act I

jinx x fem!reader | sfw

it’s finally here! this is only part one ;) for some background, ekko is the reader’s brother, it’s up to you whether that’s biological or not. i’m going to tag everyone who commented on the post i made about this. comment if you want to be added or removed from the tag list for the following chapters!

@darialikesgirls @t-wylia @kaorusssgf @brocoliisscared @bostkon @starkonaa @b3autyist3rror @njm63522 @mooooonnnzz @iluvcartmansfarts @ihatethis222 @cuti3pi5 @goby10 @ladysplained @vivispace @kissyslut @katethejinxwife @nanajustnana-a

you woke with a deafening ringing in your ears and a steadily growing ache behind your eyes.

did you ever even fall asleep? you can’t remember that, but oddly enough, the last thing you’re able to recall is the feeling of being stretched and across time itself.

that’s right. it’s all coming back to you now.

this headache began when you and ekko discovered that the firelight tree was being, for lack of a better word, altered by something. you quickly brought your findings to heimerdinger– a few leaves, discolored to a shade that resembled an oil spill, something that nature could not create on its own. the exiled professor then snuck you and your brother through a maze of vents into some lab, where you were promptly caught by his former pupil, jayce. not exactly a first impression to be proud of, but the four of you found the root cause somewhat quickly; a wild rune. something that jayce had described to you as best he could– something natural, and equally unpredictable.

so unpredictable, a simple touch of the brunette’s hand sent the four of you into a state of psychedelic frequencies and colors taking kaleidoscopic forms, colors you didn’t even know existed.

from the looks of it, you’re now in a perfectly normal bed in a perfectly normal room. is reality finally yours again?

as of right now, reality is the least of your concern; you aren’t sure whose room this is. you rub the sleep from your eyes and slowly sit up, still feeling dizzied and somewhat sore, as if you’d just gotten off a rollercoaster. without wasting a second, you do your best to focus your sight and examine your surroundings, which mostly include the paintings and drawings that line the walls. this delivers a sobering shock to your system.

a vast majority of them are jinx.

a much different version of her, you notice. her blue hair is much shorter, those signature braids nowhere to be found. she has a big smile on her face in each one of them. from what you can see, she looks… happy. clean, and pure. nothing like the jinx you know, but everything like the powder you grew up with. quite frankly, it scares the daylights out of you.

“what the fuck?” you whisper aloud.

then, you feel a movement. one that isn’t caused by you. you whip your head around to see that, shockingly, somebody had been laying in this bed right next to you. they seem to be sleeping, head and body totally covered by a plush comforter that’s clearly handmade. your eyebrows furrow, trying to make sense of the situation before scaring yourself even further.

it’s most likely ekko. perhaps you’d both fainted after your encounter with the wild rune, and heimerdinger was kind enough to find somewhere comfortable for you to sleep.

but if so, what’s the big idea with the paintings? is it to mock you, to give you a glimpse of a perfect reality that’s just out of reach? feeling a rapid stream of anger replace the blood in your veins, you reach down to grab the comforter and rip it away from your brother to disrupt his slumber.

that anger turns to confusion in an instant.

it isn’t your brother.

it’s… well, you have no idea who that is.

it isn’t jinx. she looks like jinx, she even smells like jinx, but it isn’t her. it can’t be.

she looks all too peaceful, her head rested on the pillow with her big eyes shut, sleeping undisturbed in a state of pure tranquility. you lean forward to examine this woman more closely, to look for any defining characteristics that jinx has– all of which, you find in five seconds flat. the few freckles that line her nose, the small birthmark on her left shoulder, the slight gap between her two front teeth. the only thing she’s missing is her unnaturally long blue hair. it’s still blue, of course, but it’s cut to the length of her chin and there isn’t a braid in sight. you shake your head in disbelief. it’s the girl from the paintings.

just then, her eyes flutter open.

her silvery blue orbs are yet another reminder of how mutated this reality seems to be. they aren’t bright pink, implying that the familiar body lying next to you is not locked and loaded with shimmer and a constant drug-induced rage. the last time you saw her natural eye color was before she left you.

the girl’s eyes land on you and a small smile appears on her slightly chapped lips. “morning,” she mumbles. you would recognize that voice from anywhere.

there are only two feelings that fight for control over your next course of action– elation, and panic.

on one hand, everything you’ve ever wanted is right here with you. the love of your life without the pain that consumed her, a version of her that didn’t feel the need to abandon you for your own safety.

on the other hand, you’ve woken up in an illusive reality that you simply don’t belong in.

“no. no, this isn’t right,” you whisper, slightly moving back to create some distance between you and this girl. had ekko woken up in this world as well? what about jayce and heimerdinger? it would make more sense that this is all a really weird, really lucid dream, but you need to think realistically. nothing in your life has ever made much sense.

“hm?” she hums in confusion, blinking the sleep from her tired eyes.

there’s no way for you to explain your conundrum to her, so you don’t even attempt to. you just rush out of bed and head towards the door. “i need to… take a walk.”

“alright,” she rolls over, “i’m goin’ back to sleep, then.”

within the next few minutes, you find yourself walking into the only familiar place you can find– the last drop. the place you and ekko practically grew up, even though it’s nothing like you remember it.

everything is bright and clean, an eerily perfect adaptation of the place that was once so conventional to the standards of zaun. you don’t get much time to look around, though, as you feel an hand wrap around your wrist and pull you through the backdoor into an alleyway. you’re relieved to see that the culprit is your brother– also a version of him you’d never seen, but you could tell he was just as distressed as you. heimerdinger is there, too. he seems… well, he seems calm, which has always been his natural state.

“this is bad.” you place your hands on your head. “this is really fucking bad. how did we even–”

“there’s no need for the all the panic, i can assure you. i had a feeling you two would join me eventually.” heimerdinger says, but his attempt at soothing you only angers you more.

“eventually? how long have you been here?” you point an accusatory finger at him.

ekko takes a seat on the ground, propping himself up against the wall with a few deep breaths. he looks sick to his stomach. in any other circumstance, you’d rush to his aid, but you have much more pressing issues at hand. the professor nods in acknowledgment of your question. “one thousand, one hundred and twenty-eight days, six hours, and… twenty minutes.” he answers. “now, i’ll tell you what i told ekko here– we have been… how exactly did i put it?”

“scattered across time.” your brother mumbles while rubbing his eyes. “something about being dislodged from our proverbial reality.”

“that’s right!” heimerdinger snaps his fingers. “think of it as a parallel dimension; a showcase of what could have occurred, and what could have not occurred. a reality objectively opposed to the one that the three of us belong in.”

“and it’s because of the wild rune?” you wonder. heimerdinger nods affirmatively. “so, where’s jayce? if he’s here, too, he would be in piltover, right? we have to go find him.”

ekko and the professor share a knowing glance, before ekko looks up at you with a shrug. “apparently, the anomaly reacted differently to him. there’s a good chance he ended up somewhere else.”

“somewhere else, like a different reality? how many fucking realities can there be?!” you throw your hands up in frustration.

“the sheer amount of realities is beyond any of our comprehensions.” heimerdinger assures you, never one to be phased by the temper you get when you’re stressed. “i’d advise you not to rack your brain in attempt to understand it. in all my years, i have not yet come close to–”

“i woke up next to jinx.” you cut him off.

“what?” they both say, voices lapping over each other. ekko is the first to question you. “what do you mean?” he stands up and places his hands on his hips.

“i mean, i woke up in a bed, and jinx was asleep next to me, except it wasn’t really jinx. she was too… she was– fuck, i don’t know!” you huff.

“powder.” he says.

you tilt your head. he knows that name is forbidden around you. “what did you just say?”

“it wouldn’t be jinx. in this place, she’s gotta be powder.” he tells you. “listen, vander is alive here. silco? he’s alive. even… even benzo.” your eyes widen at this. “if they’re all still here in this reality, jinx would’ve never had any reason to become jinx like she did in ours.” he explains, watching the distant expression on your face morph into a scowl.

this flood of information hits you in the heart like a freight train. alive? how could any of these people be alive? you shake your head dismissively. “cut it the fuck out, ekko.”

“you’re not listening!” he raises his voice. “i know it’s a lot to take in, but you need to get it through your head that i’m in the exact same boat as you.”

though his outburst is unexpected, it’s certainly called for. you were so caught up in your own twisted feelings, you likely haven’t picked up much of the information you’ve been given these past few minutes. “okay. i’m sorry.” you sigh in surrender.

ekko takes a deep, grounding breath. only you could get him this riled up, but he knows better than to be upset with you. he’s still processing it all, too. “it’s fine. i get it, alright? this is just as confusing for me.”

“if i may,” heimerdinger takes a step toward the two of you, “i don’t mean to infringe on the ever-common rivalry between siblings, but ekko is right. benzo is here, y/n. vander, too. wouldn’t you like to see them?”

part of you almost wants to say no, but your mouth subconsciously moves quicker than your brain. “where are they?”

ekko leads you inside, muttering a quiet reminder to ‘keep it together’, though he knows he can’t fault you for the tears that collect in the brims of your eyes when they land on benzo– who just so happens to be sitting at the bar, chatting with vander. they both look so much different than you remember, but somehow the exact same. you immediately rush towards him, the only father figure you’ve ever known, and throw your arms around his broad shoulders.

he grunts in surprise, and you bury your face in his chest in attempt to hide your expression. “woah, seems like my crew of two’s come down with a case of the cuddlies today!” his boisterous voice fills your ears and it sends yet another wave of emotion through you. it’s been so long since you’d heard his voice, and not to mention, you’d almost had a nervous breakdown a few months ago when you realized you couldn’t exactly remember many of the traits that defined him– what he smelled like, the color of his eyes, how magical his presence was, always there to brighten up your day as a child.

regardless, you remind yourself to play it cool. it’s obvious that no one who belongs in this reality has any idea that you don’t. “what’s with the two of you today? buttering me up to ask a favor i’ll say no to?” he jokes.

“sorry, benzo,” you mumble, blinking the tears from your eyes before pulling away. “just had a bad dream last night.”

“you’re kidding! so did this fellow,” he pats ekko’s shoulder, then turns to vander. “sibling telepathy. it’s a thing, i’m telling ya.”

“hey, it’s not like you’re not getting any complaints from this big teddy bear.” vander chimes in, roughly patting benzo’s shoulder. “oh, y/n– any chance you’ve seen powder today? she told me she was spending the night with you.”

you clench your jaw. powder, that’s right. that would be her name here. “yeah. yeah, she did. i let her sleep in.” you confirm.

“ah, alright.” he nods with a chuckle. “i don’t mean to be nosy, but you know how i get.”

it’s refreshing to know that vander, despite all of the jarring differences in this timeline, is the same as he ever was. overprotective, and unwilling to admit it.

“now, it’s none of my business, but i’m holding out hope that the two of you got enough sleep. you too, ekko. we’re gonna need all the help we can get setting up tonight, right, vander?” benzo points at you, then ekko.

“uh, setting up for what, exactly?” ekko asks. the two of you share a confused glance.

benzo stares at him like he’s grown two heads. “oh, you know, just the party you two steel-handlers have been raving about the entire week! you kids find brand new ways to confuse me every day, i swear it.”

heimerdinger, clearly sensing your inability to play this off, decides to step in. “ah, yes. the ‘innovator’s competition’. i’m sure it will be a fantastic display of the capabilities of these young minds!” he beams.

“right.” you nod in false remembrance, willing ekko to do the same. “the innovator’s competition. i’m all ready. are you?” you look at your brother with a raised eyebrow.

he stalls for a moment, but continues to pick up the topic seamlessly. your conversational skills have never been half as good as his. “ready as i’ll ever be.” he barely musters a smile.

“there’s my girl!” vander suddenly cuts through the discussion, motioning toward the front door. you turn around to see the girl in question; powder.

her striking blue hair is up in two buns on her head, topped off with choppy bangs and a streak of pink. that reminds you– is violet here? you can imagine her with a matching blue streak of hair. “good morning, old man. and good morning to you, too.” powder wraps an arm around your shoulder, leaning in close to your ear. “so… you left me in a rush this morning to come kick it with the elders?” she teases, causing benzo and vander to jokingly grumble in disapproval. her other arm raises to wrap around your back, and she steps directly in front of you. she looks smitten.

ekko notices how tense you’ve become with her arrival, and he looks to heimerdinger, as if searching for permission to act– but the professor shakes his head. “you must not infringe on such a necessary process. you will both need to adjust one way or another, no matter how difficult the learning curve may be.” he whispers.

you take a quick glance to see that vander and benzo have become involved in their own conversation, then hesitantly look back at powder. “s-sorry,” you shake your head, “it was feeling stuffy in there, y’know?”

“could’ve opened a window.” she shrugs.

you scan her face, noting all the visible differences between this girl and the one you lost in your own reality. her cheeks are fuller. her skin is still pale, but not as ghastly, and there are much for freckles on her nose. she’s clearly getting more sunlight here. “you’re feeling clingy, huh?”

she takes your observation as nothing more than a tease, a quiet laugh erupting from her throat. “i mean, can you blame me? i like being with you. you know that.”

“yeah?” you wonder.

“yeah, smartass. speaking of which,” she finally takes a step back, “i was gonna go see vi. you wanna tag along?”

you blink. did violet move out? you have so many questions and you’re becoming anxious by the simple fact that you can’t ask them; the people here would likely think you’d gotten amnesia somehow. “yeah, i’ll come.” you tell her, then turn around to face ekko. “we’re gonna… go see vi. catch you later?”

he nods in recognition that he’d heard you, but he’s far too busy looking at benzo. watching him talk and laugh and sip his drink. you don’t miss the way heimerdinger’s eyebrows slightly raise, mouth opening as if he has something to tell you, but chooses to keep it to himself. you scrunch your nose at him. he just shakes his head. as helpful as he’s been in the time since you’ve met him, he also has his own special way of stressing you out– this time around, he’s clearly withholding information.

powder takes your hand in her own and leads you to her ‘room’, a place you’ve only been to a few times since she joined silco in your own reality. as expected, it’s totally different from the one you know, but you’re starting to get used to expecting the unexpected, so it isn’t much of a shock. it’s brighter, decorated with warmer colors that make it feel more like a living space rather than a dark, neon dungeon. does she share the space with violet? are they still as close as they once were?

“sorry it’s kind of a mess,” she motions with her head to a workbench which is piled with nuts, bolts, handheld tools, and crumpled blueprints. still an inventor, of course. you couldn’t see that changing in any reality. “i had so many ideas for the competition tonight, i can’t even remember what half of them were.”

you huff out a laugh. “it’s impressive, messy or not. where’s vi?”

she smiles, though she almost seems confused. “uh… in same place she always is, bonehead.”

you continue to follow behind her until you reach a curtained hideout, where you see multiple paintings of violet in which she can’t be more than fourteen years old. you stand and watch powder take a seat in front of the shrine, lighting a few sticks of incense with a quiet sigh.

it takes you longer than you’d rather admit to piece it all together.

she’s dead. how can she be dead?

feeling sick to your stomach, you hesitantly take a seat next to powder, who’s admiring the paintings before her. “i think a lot about what she would be like if she got to grow up.” she says.

you look over at her, feeling an immense type of sadness that you didn’t know a human could feel. you know the answer to that question. the least you could do is try to phrase it in a hypothetical way. “she would be so… strong. and brave. i don’t think her hair would change much, either.” you shrug. “i could see her getting a few piercings.”

“really?” powder raises an eyebrow. “what kind of piercings?”

“uh, you know… maybe her nose. some on her ears.” you shrug.

she nods, closing her eyes to visualize it in her head, then she laughs. “maybe. but she’d get into too many fights and probably get ‘em ripped out.”

you cringe and scrunch your nose at the thought. “yeah, probably.”

“i know vander misses her a lot. whenever he talks about her, he gets all emotional. it’s… weirdly heartwarming.” she says. “so, i try not to bring her up too often. but sometimes, he’ll come here with me to see her. every year on her birthday, too. like clockwork.”

“that’s sweet.” you reply. “he’s a family man to his core. always has been.”

powder nods in agreement with you. “he is.”

the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit, which gives you some time to look around. she’s even got a handmade doll of violet propped up on the table– eerily similar to the dolls she kept of mylo and claggor.

“what are you wearing to the party tonight?” she suddenly asks you.

you blink. “oh, um… i have no idea. i’m sure i’ll find something.” you answer, hoping this version of you has a somewhat good wardrobe, though you’re trying not to get your hopes up since you’re still in the sweatpants and tank top you woke up in. “what about you?”

“hm… i want to surprise you.” she grins.

you tilt your head. “is that code for ‘i also have no idea’?”

powder chuckles, gently hitting your arm with the back of her hand. “no! maybe! ugh, i don’t know. i want to make an entrance. show everyone i can clean up nice, y’know?“

“i get it.” you shrug. “no matter what you wear, i’m sure you’ll look good.”

“just good?” she questions in a tone that borders on flirtatious, causing you to clench your jaw a bit. it’s painfully familiar.

“great,” you correct yourself as smoothly as you can manage. “better than great.”

with an approving hum, she takes your hand into her own, maintaining an overwhelmingly intimate eye contact when she brings your hand to her mouth and presses a kiss to the back of it. “that’s better.”

every muscle in your body tenses up at the display of affection. it’s certainly an odd situation, one that heimerdinger couldn’t have possibly briefed you for– how to act natural when you’re getting everything you’ve ever wanted in a timeline that you don’t belong in. you know that you and ekko’s top priority needs to be finding a way back to where you came from. you know you can’t stay here.

that doesn’t stop you from getting a bit choked up in the midst of considering it.

powder seems to notice the way your bottom lip wobbles, the way you can hardly even look at her. she slowly pulls away from you. “woah, what’s with all the gloom? was it something i said?” she asks, sounding genuinely worried.

you shake your head. “no! no, of course not, i just…” you trail off, then suddenly stand up. “i’m sorry. i have to go talk to ekko.”

powder furrows her eyebrows in confusion, but ultimately decides not to question you. “m’kay. see you tonight?”

“y-yeah,” you say with a slight shudder in your voice, turning your back to walk away so that she doesn’t spot the tears running down your cheeks. “see you tonight.”

[iceunhie]

voicelines about you: as their lover !

featuring: imbibitor lunae, jing yuan, gepard. (+ jingliu and kafka)

notes: headcanons! some might be ooc HELP. i couldn't resist writing for hsr man… also jingliu and kafka sneak bc mmm i love morally questionable women 🤩. gn!reader. reader is not trailblazer. some fluff, some angst (?) kinda. reblogs are very much appreciated!

Imbibitor Lunae (Danheng IL)

About [Name]: They're one of the few people who's never condemned me for Danfeng's sins, nor ever tried to get me to own up to them. Their presence is very comforting to me. My lover? *coughs* Y-yes, they are.

About [Name]: Selfies Aside from March, [Name] always seems to ask me to take photos with their camera. Hm? No, I don't really mind. If it makes them feel happy, then that's enough reason for me to agree.

About [Name]: Photo Albums [Name] made an Express photo album with March yesterday. Yeah, pictures of our adventures and memories, according to them. It's in the Data Bank, so just ask me if you want to take a look at it.

Gepard Landau

About [Name]: [Name] is the most amazing individual I've met. Their determination and their will to pursue their goals to the fullest… I'm proud to call them my lover. Oh, ah… Was that too forward?

About [Name]: Lending a Hand Oftentimes, Serval asks [Name] to help her carry some things for her workshop. Although the times I get to personally help out are rare due to my duties, I still make it a point to support them by asking the Silvermane Guards to keep an eye out for them and help carry my sister's things for them if it's too heavy. Of course. They're always my top priority.

About Serval: Nagging Every time Serval stops by my post, it usually means [Name]'s run into some difficulties, which I try to help them out in. While her telling me about my lover's state is greatly appreciated, she always nags and teases me being a fool for them and… *sigh* No, it's alright, really. I'm thankful that my sister cares about [Name] and goes out of her way to talk to them for me. Still, I do hope her nagging would decrease next time.

Jing Yuan

About [Name]: Hm? [Name]? Yes, they're indeed my lover. Hehe, now that you've brought them up, I should go look for them. I'm afraid I've grown so used to the feeling of laying my head on their lap that no other pillow can suffice. Ah, what a predicament…

About [Name]: Spending Time Together While I do enjoy dozing off, [Name] makes a point to let me rest at a more appropriate place, instead of at the Seat of The Divine Foresight, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Oftentimes, I do as they say, but when I'm not and just craving their presence… Heh, now that's another matter entirely.

(BONUS! - Yanqing's Voiceline) About [Name]: Oh, [Name]? They always give me some extra allowance for buying swords, buying me sweets and food I like… Of course I won't say no to that! Sometimes, them being with me when I'm being scolded by the General for my expenses helps a lot. Probably because they're the only one the General can't say no to.

Jingliu

About [Name]: ….Do you really think you have the right to know about them? This is a warning. Try to ask again and perhaps you'll be faced with the end of my blade as my answer.

About [Name]: Soothed The whispers of the marastruck, succumbing to the Abundance… They are the only one able to calm the storm of my thoughts. For that, I am grateful for their patience and their kindness.

(BONUS 2! - Jing Yuan's Voiceline) About Name: While Master's current state is one of irreparable damage, at the very least… She has someone to hold onto while she grapples with the curse of mara. Even if I don't quite believe she's the Jingliu I knew from before, I know that her feelings for [Name] are sincere. I just hope she doesn't end up hurting them in the process.

Kafka

About [Name]: Aha, now thats a question I didn't expect to hear from you. My lover? Yes, [Name] is that to me. I very much enjoy their love and affection, you know. Even if it isn't on the script, I'd still mention them. Quite romantic of me, no?

About [Name]: Trophy They always, always chide me about me ruining my velvet coats when we finish up a script. What's wrong with a little blood? I keep most of them as trophies. There's one I'm especially fond of, too. They think it's rather embarassing that I keep the coat from the time they got injured on the job. Although the stains have long since turnt black, there's still a faint scent of iron in it. Hm? What do I mean by that? Heh, let's just say I don't take any harm coming to [Name] lightly. While they call it a reminder of their lack of caution, I'd rather call it a little show of my affection~

About [Name]: Destiny's Course Elio refused to tell me about what my future with them would be, saying that the path in that choice is quite difficult to discern, and I think it's for the best. I suppose if [Name] decided to leave the Stellaron Hunters, hm, would locking them up till they can't leave me anymore suffice….? Haha, just kidding. I wouldn't let them leave in the first place.

© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[flawseer]

Your thoughts on the wof characters have been really interesting and I'd love to hear your take on Starflight (your assignment of him being the 'designated sufferer' of arc one is both hilarious and tragically accurate). I've always liked him, cowardly though he is he still acts when he really needs to and the dynamic between him and Tsunami is super fun (the whole outwardly combative but inwardly just wishing to be as strong/as smart as the other).

I like Starflight and I relate to him a lot, as a fellow chronic worrier who annoys his friends with constant blathering about stuff only I find interesting, and often finding myself paralyzed in the face of decisions.

It’s funny how the story puts forward a black dragon, which in media are usually portrayed as mysterious, ambiguously malevolent harbingers of doom, and makes him into this adorable dork.

He’s also the plot’s chew toy, which I am at times less enthusiastic about. Especially when jokes are made at the expense of his misfortune.

Wings of Night and Sea

Starflight’s and Tsunami’s friendship is very engaging because, in a sense, both of them complete each other. For each, emulating the other serves as their last resort when faced with a personal crisis. Whenever Tsunami encounters a situation she cannot overcome with her usual blunt and direct approach, she asks herself how Starflight would resolve the situation. When Starflight becomes overwhelmed and too scared to move, his mind conjures an image of the strongest, bravest, most unstoppable thing he knows, which is Tsunami. Though either would be reluctant to openly admit it to each other, they both rely on each other’s strengths to cover their own weaknesses.

Through this you get the sense that, while their opposite personalities annoy each other to no end—if you locked both of them in a room for three hours, they’d be strangling each other when you open the door again—at their core they have only the deepest respect for each other. It becomes especially apparent when you realize that both of their stories in their respective books have them compare themselves to the other unfavorably.

If these two ever did a DBZ-style fusion dance, the result would likely be one of the most capable and balanced characters in their series.

Starflight's misfortune

CW: Discussion of blindness

One thing I have noticed (and have alluded to a lot in previous posts) is that the plot really likes to kick Starflight in the teeth. His own story arc puts him through the wringer, but he is not even safe in the two arcs past that, where he is largely out of focus. Most of the things that happen to him in arc 1 seem to occur for the sake of the story, but past that... it sometimes feels to me like the world has it in for this guy.

I started writing a list of every bad thing that happens to Starflight over all three arcs, but it got way too long, so now I’m just going to talk about a few select things instead.

One thing that stands out to me is that every other protagonist in arc 1 gets a specific moment. That kind of scene where they enter their tribe’s biome for the first time or connect with a particular part of their culture/physiology, and are overcome with a sudden burst of euphoria or deep resonance with their own nature. Clay gets it when he submerges himself in mud for the first time and then later again when he finds his siblings, Tsunami when she sees and smells the ocean, Glory when she’s in the rainforest and feels the sun, and Sunny when they go through the magic tunnel and end up in the desert. Starflight is the only arc 1 protagonist who doesn’t get a moment like this; when he enters his tribe’s home for the first time it’s a giant craphole that makes him feel upset. It only gets worse from there.

Then there is the big one; the misfortune that happens to him at the end of his book. I struggle to talk about this because... uh... How do I put this?

I opened this post by saying I relate to Starflight on a personal level. I wouldn’t consider myself as studious or well-read as him, so it’s not a direct comparison, but I do like to draw, write and dabble in visual artistry. This is a major part of my life; how I define myself as a person and what I think makes me “me”. The thing about this though is that all of this is tied up into one thing: my sense of sight.

It follows then that what ends up happening to Starflight is the realization of the one thing I fear the most. Thinking about the possibility of losing ones sight is deeply, personally horrifying to me. It messes me up internally just to consider it happening to me.

This, the subject of becoming blind, is a very difficult topic for any story to properly engage with. There are many pitfalls you can fall into and come off as insensitive, or ignorant. The way Wings of Fire deals with this subject is to... well... it doesn’t really. Starflight is blinded and then the story skips over most of his reaction to it because the next POV character gets separated from the group while they sort it out.

In a way, this is a good thing. I don’t know how this series—which often rushes through these really uncomfortable, harrowing events—would be able to show a realistic reaction to this development. Like, losing ones sight would be a horrifying prospect for anyone, but for Starflight especially this completely uproots not only his entire life, but his sense of identity. Everything he likes doing, everything he is and wants to be in life is rendered virtually impossible by this.

Consider who Starflight is. He is a thinker, and a worrier who is always inside his own head. He dreads and fears, he seeks out worst case scenarios, I daresay he is inclined towards pessimism. Whenever his neuroticism gets him too stressed, or emotional, or worried, he has one immediate response: bury his nose in a scroll. When he arrives in a new place, he usually asks where the scrolls are at. When he is under threat of being abducted or attacked, his first instinct is to go grab his scrolls to keep them safe. Like with me and drawing, reading is how he unwinds, how he balances himself. It is what keeps him sane and functional through dealing with adversity (and he's Starflight, so he deals with a lot of adversity).

Then this happens to him, and suddenly the one thing that makes this poor, battered boy happy, the one thing that never hurts him, is taken away forever. If I was in his place, if I learned I was suddenly blind, I would fall apart. I would cry, then scream, then cry AND scream and probably flail around in a panic. Clay would have to hold me down and restrain me so I don’t end up falling off the platform in a frenzied fit. Or worse.

So yeah, I get why the plot had to look away. Seeing this happen to Starflight—him going through this kind of anguish and then sinking into quiet despair as his world crumbles around him—would have been heartbreaking. In the end, we go on Sunny’s solo adventure and when she returns Starflight is already conveniently past the screaming fit phase and has adjusted to his new life circumstances—enough to talk and joke as if nothing happened. He then goes on to dedicate himself to bringing the wonders of literature to other blind dragons, which is a noble goal and good trajectory for his character—even if it’s a bit abrupt and I would have liked to SEE him do that instead of just being told.

Anyway.

This next one isn’t as notable because it doesn’t happen TO him, but I want to point it out to back up my claim that Starflight Ls can and will happen even in story arcs that have very little to do with him. In book 6 Moonwatcher and Darkstalker have a conversation where they discuss the concept of Nightwing powers and how they relate to the moons. The story very pointedly draws attention to the fact that Starflight nearly was born under three full moons and would have become the most powerful Nightwing of his generation if his inept caretakers had not decided to hatch him underground. While I don’t think getting these powers would have been good for Starflight in the long run, it is a bit sad considering he spent most of his childhood thinking he was born wrong because he didn’t have powers, and then Morrowseer further gaslit him about it throughout the arc.

And then we don't talk about what happens in arc 3. I am not the right person to discuss it.

My take on Starflight

I was asked to give my take on the character, so...

I already went into how I think he’s very introspective and prone to worrying. I see him as an introvert, which is something he has in common with Glory, and contrast him with Sunny, Clay, and especially Tsunami. He enjoys reading but also other activities where he gets to use his brain. He likes puzzles; I imagine he got very excited when they had to figure out the murder plot in book 2, or when he caught Blister in a lie. If he had a computer it would be full of adventure and puzzle games, and he’d hog the resident DS to play the Professor Layton series all the time.

When they found the academy, it is implied he teaches a literacy course and gives out writing assignments. That is right up his alley, but I’ve always felt he also has strong math/natural science teacher vibes. There should logically be a numbers class at that school and I can’t imagine any other character who would be more suited to teach it.

If I were asked where I would make changes to his story, I guess I would nix the part where he and Fatespeaker hook up in book 5. I have nothing against their relationship, it’s actually grown a lot on me over time. But I never liked how it started. Starflight gets rejected by Sunny and then immediately hooks up with Fatespeaker. This is really undignified for her because it takes their potentially intriguing romantic relationship and turns her into Starflight’s “rebound chick”. You really need to give yourself some time to move on from your previous attraction; rushing like this creates doomed relationships.

The original story implies that about half a year passes between the end of arc 1 and the start of arc 2. I like to pretend this gap is actually a bit longer, by like 2 or 3 years. It gives the old protagonists a bit more time to settle into the roles they’ll occupy during the next arc, and makes it more plausible to me that they could build and outfit an entire school, write the curriculum, designate roles, etc..

In that time, with things being more calm now, Starflight has opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts again. It turns out, now that the dangers of the war are no longer distracting him, he finds it difficult to cope with his blindness and sinks into a depression.

While this happens, Fatespeaker is there with him. She sees his condition worsening by the day, but refuses to give up on him. She reads to him; they talk, and they bond. Though serious self-searching and hard work, together they manage to pull out of the darkness eventually. This is how their relationship starts, and it’s also how Starflight gets the idea to invent the dragon-equivalent of braille.

Somewhere during that time, I also imagine Glory has Tamarin escorted to Jade Mountain so she can help Starflight adjust to his new situation and learn how to navigate his life without needing to rely on others. Perhaps this is what motivates Tamarin to attend the academy later.

What else is there to say? Hmm...

I think Starflight is really fond of hard candy. Jawbreakers are his favorite especially. Though given how prone to misfortune he is in the story, I’m hesitant to put him in proximity of anything with a name like that.

[shoyoist]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 : hinata shoyo.

hinata catches your eye for the first time one afternoon, while you were walking home from school. you'd been taking this route home since your first year, and now, as a second year highschooler, you were sure you'd never seen him go by this way before.

you'd been looking up at the sky, admiring the colours splayed out and blending together along with the setting sun, when you heard the ting-ting of a bicycle bell in the distance.

upon casting your view back onto the street, you were met with the sight of him cycling past— and your eyes had met briefly, you think — and in that brief moment in which you'd caught sight of his eyes, you'd immediately fallen in love.

perhaps not really, but the firecracker tint of his eyes as they flashed in the sunlight had indeed captured your attention - and you'd thought about him the entire way home. it was a i-met-the-cutest-guy-today-and-i'll-never-see-him-again kind of moment.

except you did see him again, the very next day as you walked the usual path home from school. this time, he'd been with a friend — a black haired, dark eyed boy that didn't even fully register in your mind, because you were too busy taking in a second detail about hinata himself.

his mouth was stretched in a wide, summery grin — and then you learned his name, too, because his friend angrily yelled out, "hinata you fucking moron!"

he was pretty, you thought — really pretty. not handsome in the traditional sense, but good looking in a boyish, mischief-laden way.

after that, you saw him almost every day. you'd see him cycling down the street and disappear around the corner on your way home from school, and on occassion, it was the only thing you ever looked forward to.

this boy, this cute (and athletic, it seemed, since he cycled and seemed to be in a sports team, assuming from the jersey he donned some days) stranger whose name you'd caught only by chance — had become all of a sudden one of the constants you looked for to keep you grounded throughout your highs and lows.

he becomes more attractive to you as the days, weeks and months go by, and sometimes you hear his laugh, catch a word or two of what he's saying to the friend he cycles home with — and you fall in love with it all.

a little pathetic, it was perhaps, but sometimes it was just how it was. you didn't bother chiding yourself over it, or try to get over it — you just let it be, hoping and believing that the sight of this boy would just carry you forward for a while, and then you'd move onto other things and forget he ever existed.

after all, even if you wanted something to occur out of it, how could there be a chance of starting anything with a boy you only knew for a few seconds every day, a boy you only ever spare a glance from across the street at?

you just let it be. until one day, after an exam, you decided to stop by a shop to buy a pastry to satisfy your post-stress hunger with, and run into him.

he looked flustered, talking to the guy at the counter — and you couldn't help but overhear that he'd forgotten his wallet back in school and was unable to pay for the yakisoba bun he'd already taken a bite out of.

this was your moment, to discreetly return the favour he's been doing you everyday by cycling past and giving you something constant to rely on, to keep you on track. by becoming one of the many methodical repetitions you carried out on the daily, to help yourself through any and all the things that ever happened to you.

"excuse me," you push in, feeling timid all of a sudden as his fiery gaze, coupled with the bright curls of his hair that frame his eyes, suddenly focus on you. "how much is the bun for? i can pay for you."

of course, hinata has no choice but to let you help him, and as the two of you step out of the shop, he's bowing to you and expressing his gratitude to you, loud and fervent.

it's a little stunning, he's much better looking up close — and despite looking shorter than the rest of his friends, he's muscled and has height enough.

it was like having the sun suddenly be in your face after having hung so far up in the sky all the days past — but you manage to hold your composure and try to tell him he doesn't need to pay you back.

"no, really! how about we meet here tomorrow, same time? i'll have the money for you then." he kept insisting. "and maybe i can buy you something, too. an ice cone? a muffin?"

you were sure your heart couldn't take that. it was hard enough already, to play it cool and convince yourself that your feelings for this not-so-stranger-anymore were something temporary, something minimal.

but if he tried to make friends with you? if he bought you something to eat? if, fuck it, you had to stand so close to this summer of a boy a second time?

no, it was too risky. you couldn't. "no, it's fine. you really don't have to."

"but i gotta pay you back," he sounds disappointed, now, and you don't even know this guy, you try to tell yourself — but you can't help but soften.

"tell you what," you say, and his head lifts immediately, eyes locking with yours. "just keep cycling."

"hm?" he tilts his head to a side, and his fluffy hair bounces with the movement. "what does that mean?"

"just," you wave your hand towards the street. "take this road home everyday. you don't need to, but i think you do that already, anyway. i see you cycle past sometimes."

everyday, you think. i get to see you everyday, and that's all i'll ask for.

"so i just have to take my bike this way?" he asks, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. god, he's cute. "ah, so i'll see you, right?"

"mhm." it's all you can offer, and he nods enthusiastically. "sure, sure! i'll be looking for you, then — i'll wave if i see you!"

you agree, say you'll wave back — and then he's getting on his bicycle and going back on his way. you stand there and watch, and just as he's about to turn around the corner and disappear, he turns around and gives you a small wave.

you're not sure he even caught the way you waved back. but what you're suddenly starting to feel certain of is that, you know what, maybe the feelings for him that you have buried within your chest might not be as easy to ignore and leave behind, after all.

he hadn't told you his name (you knew it already, but that wasn't the point) and he hadn't asked for yours either, but you had a feeling this wasn't going to be the last time you talked to him.

you could feel it, not out of some lovey-dovey instinct but because you knew already that he was bright, fiery and someone that enjoyed connecting with everyone around him.

he'd probably ask for your name. and you'd probably have to witness firsthand, up close, the sight of his firecracker eyes again.

letting what was budding in your heart be something temporary, letting it fade away, forgetting that hinata ever existed — was probably going to be hard, impossible, even.

but the least you could do was believe, if not try. you lie to yourself.

the truth is that once you've seen the sun, the afterimage of it is stuck behind your eyes for the rest of your life. you're never going to forget that summer sun of a boy.

you walk home, thinking about how maybe one day, there'll be a night where you get to light a firecracker with him and watch the way he watches it — watch the way they light up his eyes.

[sweetimpurity]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ day fiiiiiive!! cw: oral (male receiving) wc: 1.2k ˚୨୧⋆｡ sorry about the weird post time!! Yikes! We’ll be back to the regular schedule tomorrow

“Baby?” Your bare feet padding on the marble floor are all you can hear apart from your voice calling out to him. Walking down the hall to the front entrance way of the apartment. The penthouse feeling oddly quiet since he was supposed to be home by now. You sigh, looking both ways. Spotting his jacket on the hook. He must be here. Turning around, you peer into the kitchen; empty. He’s not in the downstairs bathroom. He’s not in the dining room. You round the corner, to the living room. Finally spotting him. Or the back of his shoulders and his head. Sitting on the sofa, facing the floor to ceiling windows. 20 stories up over a beautiful Nueva York night.

“There you are…” You sigh and walk over. Once again, your steps and voice are the only sounds. “I thought I heard you come in before…” You round the couch to look at his face. Tired eyes and that scowl, eyes downturned. He seems grumpy tonight. His tie loosely hanging around his neck, legs spread wide over the cushions and a beer in his hand.

“Hey baby…” He sighs, almost a whisper. The frown lines soften slightly at the sight of you. But he’s still unhappy. Running a hand through his hair, further messing it up from the way he usually styles it back, and his arm resting on the back of the couch. A few stray hairs springing out around his face.

“You okay?” You ask, bending down a bit to try and find his eyes. But he looks down at his lap. His thumb rubbing over the lip of the beer bottle over and over again. “What’s wrong?” You whisper. Crouching down in front of him and looking up to try and make eye contact with him. Rolling forward onto your knees on the carpet between his legs and blinking up at him trying to coax answers out.

“Bad day, mi vida…” He hums. His head lifting and looking at you now. That scowl on his face; like frustration mixed with something more soft and sad. His job is hard. Some might think he just gets to sit back and relax. CEO; that title is more than just a plaque on his desk. It means he works the hardest and the longest and makes sure the entire company runs smoothly. He can’t afford for things to go wrong, not in the business of science and fact. “I’m sorry, honey…” You whisper. Eyes flicking from his eyes and down his chest, his abdomen, his thighs. Leaning your elbow on his knees.

“You wanna talk about it?” You blink up at him. Pretty lashes fluttering. He only shrugs. That same frown on his plush lips. Taking the last swig of his beer and letting out a breath. “Is there anything I can do?” You ask innocently. His eyes wander a bit before looking back into yours.

…

“Baby…” He sighs, head leaning against the back of the couch and fingers clenching into the cushion. His work shirt pushed half open and his fly undone just enough to free him from his pants. The metal buckle of his belt clinking softly and your hand wrapped around his length. Stroking him and working him up, getting him hard. It’s the least he deserves after a long day.

“You feel good, Mig?” You ask so innocently as you’re doing all this to him. Leaning over him to kiss his sternum, then down his diaphragm. His chest heaving and you can see it through the opening in his shirt; feel it against your lips. He just sighs, both hands going through his hair and pulling gently. Like he’s fighting the release of his tension and stress. A different kind of tension building. The need to come. The impending orgasm; a promise of final release. And all at your hand.

“You’re too good to me, baby…” He huffs, finally looking down and almost losing it at the look in your eyes. Like pure and utter devotion personified. You’re looking at him like he’s the only person to ever exist. Like he’s the only thing you care about. At least for this moment. “You deserve it, love… always working so hard…” You whisper, pressing your thumb to his tip, running down, stimulating all his sensitive nerves. “You deserve it all… just relax…” You smile. That smile. You manage to make him soft and mushy inside. Bringing a smirk to his lips, breaking through the scowl. Adjusting his hips on the sofa, his abdomen clenching and relaxing.

You move back down, knelt between his legs, bringing your attention to his needy dick, his reddened tip just begging for more. Begging for you. And you’re more than happy to show him just how much you appreciate him, how much you want him to feel good. Your head dips down, kissing his tip in feather light pecks. Hearing a huff of breath leave his chest. “Fuck…”

Your eyes flick up to watch him, his head leaning back again and just basking in the bliss of your soft lips and wet tongue. As you press kisses to the underside of his length, rubbing his tip gently with your thumb, slowly and seeing him come undone. All these touches, all these kisses, everything. It’s all for him. To show him how much you care. And he can feel it.

He can feel it in the way you’re looking in his eyes, that you want him to feel good. That you’re trying your damn hardest and that makes something in him swell. Maybe it’s his possessiveness, maybe his ego. He wants to be the only man you ever look at that way.

But soon your lips purse around his length, taking him into your mouth and on your tongue. Pursing around him and sucking upwards until his tip pops out and your hand instantly comes to stroke him once more, trying to get him there. All for him.

His hands stay at his sides. Reluctantly so. He wants to grab your hair like he does every other time you suck him off. Bob your head up and down and deepthroat you until you’re whining and drooling. But this is different. He doesn’t provoke you. He lets you completely take the lead, letting you take care of him. Clenching the couch cushions to restrain himself.

You return, taking him deeper into your mouth this time and hitting the back, almost feeling a gag coming on but you push through. And he shudders. His hips jutting forward ever so slightly like he’s seeking out the warmth and comfort of your mouth around him. The way you’re giving him this attention, this care. It’s everything. You bob up and down on him gently, hearing him groan and sigh, knowing he feels good and that satisfies some need of your own. You’re the only one who can make him feel this way. Makes him feel more powerful having you here, sucking his cock like a popsicle than sitting behind the letters CEO ever made him feel. It’s a different kind of power.

“Baby, I’m close…I…” He groans, eyes closing shut and his muscles tensing through his shirt, through his pants. His body, a shaken bottle about to burst. With him inches deep in your throat, your tongue swirling around him, you can feel him pulsing, feeling him twitching.

“Amor… m-mi vida… oh… hah…” He mumbles and moans. Bucking his hips up and finally hitting his peak. “Oh fuck fuck… hah…” Countless sighs and curses pass his lips. His guard completely breaking down at he comes in your mouth. On your warm soft tongue. You always know how to make his bad days good again.

Taglist:

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🍬 take one!!! happy kinktober! ⬇️🍬

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[hottiesforhockey]

may the best brother win pt. 2 ⎜hughes brothers

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader ⎜luke hughes x afab!reader ⎜ jack hughes x afab!reader ⎜ genre: romance ⎜bachelorette-esque situations ⎜angst? ⎜friends - to - lovers warnings: awkwardness between reader and Jack⎜mentions of a bet / competition⎜friendly love-hate relationship ⎜luke being a cutie patootie ⎜luke's love language is very much physical touch ⎜ kissing with mild heavy petting ⎜jack's kind of an asshole in this one ⎜miscommunication ⎜ synopsis: you have been friends with the hughes brothers for years - but why does this summer feel so different? word count: 5.1k authors note:  this is luke's chapter - I've always seen things saying that luke is super sweet and shy but really playful with people he knows so I kinda went with that for this story - anyway I hope you all enjoy! (p.s. i will be posting chapter aesthetic pics at the bottom so you can get an idea of what I was picturing :) )

(unedited)

“You look like you’ve been kissed.” Lukes voice carries through your bedroom, as you stand in front of your vanity mirror, trying to braid your hair to avoid it getting stuck to you with sweat overnight. 

“Huh?” You question, turning around too quick to be casual to look at the long legged boy sprawling himself across your bed. 

“Your lips are a little swollen?” Luke continues, trying to play oblivious to the nerve he was hitting with his words. 

“Didn’t know you pay so much attention to my lips, Lukey.” You hiss back, turning back towards the mirror watching him in the reflection.  You stick your tongue out at him, a quirk of his lips brightening the atmosphere as he leans forwards, his elbows pressing into his thighs. 

“So how’d the date go? You both came back in a bit of a weird mood.” Luke notes, his eyes catching the small twitch of your jaw as you clench and unclench thinking of what to respond with, “Did something happen between you two?” He adds, goading you for a reaction. 

“The date was nice.” You say softly, finishing the second braid and tying it off with a hair band before turning around to face the intruder. “He’s very serious about this bet thought, so you better have something good planned.” Your snark surprises Luke as you walk around to the other side of the bed, slipping onto the mattress besides him. 

“He did kiss you didn’t he?” Luke’s smile is outrageously large as you cover your face with your hands, already feeling the tips of your ears burning. 

“Don’t say anything.” You snap, letting out a long groan into your hands as the tingle returns to your lips - the featherlight feeling of Jack’s lips still lingering. “It was spur of the moment, it didn’t really mean anything.” You admit - the memory of Jacks joking comment playing through your head on repeat. 

“Does Jack feel that way?” Luke asks, his question, making your turn your head in your hands, just peeking over at him from the corner of your eyes. 

“I mean he said and I quote ‘if I don’t win this competition, I’m gonna say it’s rigged’, so I don’t really think feelings were on his mind.” You say, trying to do your best Jack impression, your voice mockingly low as you recall his words. Luke winces as you sigh, leaning back against your headboard - the large puppy of a man turning on his side to face you. 

“I think you made him nervous, kitten.” Luke whispers. 

“If you ever call me kitten again, I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you in a sandwich.” You snap, Luke immediately throwing his hands up in defence. 

“I’m just testing some out - give it time, pumpkin.” 

“Get the fuck out of my room.” 

“I’m kidding.” He laughs, his hands grabbing hold of your wrists as you try to shove him off the bed. “But I was being serious, Jack says stupid shit when he’s nervous or caught off guard.” 

“Are you saying kissing me somehow made him nervous?” You can’t help the way your head shakes as Luke nods his in agreement with what you’re saying. “There is no way, hot shot hockey star got nervous from kissing the girl he went bra shopping with when they were ten.” 

“It’s just a suspicion, so don’t take his stupid comments to heart.” Luke admits, dragging the covers which lay folded at the end of the bed over the two of your before settling down into the pillows. 

“What are you doing?” 

“My room is so far away.” He whines, patting the space next to him waiting for you to follow suit. “I’m not leaving so get comfortable.” Luke adds, his arms crossed against his chest, a triumphant smile on his face as you settle into your own pillows turning your back to face him. 

“Get a good nights rest cause we have a big day tomorrow.” Luke warns before rolling around in the bed till he finds a comfortable position. 

+

+

The sound of “eye of the tiger” blaring in your dark bedroom and the heavy arm over your waist is what makes you crack your eyes open - glancing around to confirm the you are still in fact in your own bedroom. You glance down at the arm around you in confusion, your eyebrows lifting in surprise at the sight of Luke’s fingers entwined with yours sitting comfortably against the comforter. “No wonder my hand is so sweaty.” You mumble

“Luke.” You groan, trying to get his hand to release yours so you can tug the covers up and over your head. 

“Shit, sorry.” He mumbles back, his eyes barely opened as his fingers release yours, rolling onto his back, slapping his hand around the mattress for his phone. “Eight AM sugar cookie, rise and shine.” His voice is crackling with sleep as his arm drops back to the mattress the alarm no longer singing the song of Rocky Balboa. 

“Sugar Cookie?” 

“I know, it’s just not right, is it?” He agrees, as he raises his hands to rub at his face before pulling himself into a sitting position. “We gotta get up though, can’t let date day go to waste.” You dare a glimpse over at the curly headed morning freak who is greeting you with a beaming grin, you can already see the energy buzzing under his skin. 

“Time for us to get our game faces on!” He grins, flicking your forehead gently. “The bet’s not gonna win itself.” 

You roll your eyes, sitting up and stretching. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even know why you’re this invested.” 

“You’re just mad cause Jacky made a boo boo.” Luke teases as he slides off the bed, walking over to your curtains to rip them open, unleashing the morning sun in your face.  “You don’t think I’m gonna let him just coast to victory, do you? He thinks he can just kiss you out of nowhere and then act like it’s nothing?” Luke’s voice is teasing, but there’s an edge to it, and you catch a glimpse of his competitive streak.

“Pfft, not on my watch. I’m gonna make this the most fun you’ll ever have on a date.” He tries to keep his face serious as he adds, “You’re going to go on other dates and be like ‘god I wish this was even close to being as much fun as I had with devilishly handsome and oh so charming Luke Hughes’.” He mimics trying to raise his voice as high as it’ll go. 

“Actually scratch that - you’re not going to go on other date ever again cause you’ll be so enamoured by me.” He corrects, his smile as wide as it can get as you let out a bark of laughter. 

“Very funny - now get out and I’ll get ready for whatever you’re going to enamour me with.” 

“As you wish, m’lady.” He says as he makes his way to the door, pulling it open all the way, Jack stopping just outside the door, looking between you and Luke in surprise. “Oh and wear something comfy.” He adds, nodding hello to his older brother as he fiddles with the long messy curls falling in his face. 

“He has a lot of energy.” Jack notes, stepping forwards to lean against your doorframe. 

“He’s excited.” You say with a shrug, slipping out of the bed and adjusting your pyjama bottoms which had ridden up over the night. 

“Listen, I think we should talk.” 

“Can we do it later? I have a feeling if I’m not ready in fifteen minutes Luke is gonna drag me on this date in my pyjamas.” You joke risking a glimpse at Jack’s face, expecting there to be a light smile but met with a blank expression. 

“Yeah.” He says quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah whatever time suits you.” Jack says snapping out of his daze as he shoots you a quick smile, clapping his hand against the door frame before walking the rest of the way down the hall to his bedroom - the sound of the door closing echoing through the house. 

You can’t help the shiver of nerves at Jack's sudden shift; maybe Luke was right. 

"Fifteen minutes, princess!” Luke’s voice rings from this bedroom down the hall, and you huff out a breath, rolling your eyes. Luke’s enthusiasm for this date was charming in its own right, and for now, you'd focus on that. 

You dress quickly, pulling on a white thin sweater and some muted green overalls with your favourite broken in and worn down white converses as you gather a small cross body bag with the essentials. 

“I’m coming.” You hiss and Luke stops outside your door, pointedly looking down at the watch on his wrist. You pull your hair into a ponytail, the loose pieces at the front unable to be contained by the hair tie. Luke has on a simple pair of black shorts, with a washed out blue concert tee - his hair freshly washed and dried, and also possibly brushed, which was rare for the younger brother. He sports his own white converse - quick to point out the unintentional matching. 

“We’d just make the cutest couple, wouldn’t we?” He sing songs to Quinn who slides a plate of freshly cut fruit over to you as you take a seat at the counter - thanking the oldest as you dig into the juicy red apple slices. 

“He’s got a lot of energy.” Quinn notes, the deja vu slapping your across the face. 

“He’s excited.” You agree the encounter mimicking your earlier run in with Jack. 

“So what’s your plan for today?” Quinn questions Luke, watching his younger brother shove gatorade bottles and packets of chips into a small backpack. 

“Why? Trying to keep your enemies close?” Luke chides, slinging the mini black bag over his shoulder - the item looking smaller then before against his broad back. “We may or may not be going to one of her favourite places.” Luke hints, your eyes lighting up as Quinn looks over to you in confusion. 

“There’s a fair nearby?” You question, Luke nodding his head as he grabs an apple from the fruit bowl taking a large bite from it. “Since when? How did I not know about this.” 

“Wait, didn’t your friends from u-mich invite you to hang out with them there?” Quinn questions, a teasing smirk on his face as a frown grows on yours. 

“So you’re using this date as an excuse to hang out with your friends?” You ask Luke, his head shaking quickly as he bends down his mouth just besides your ear. 

“No I’m using it as an excuse to show you off to my friends.” He corrects, a shit eating grin on his face as he ushers you off the bar stool and towards the front door. “We’ll see you later tonight.” He bid farewell to his older brother before slamming the door closed. 

“C’mon we have a one hour drive ahead of us.” Luke says, his hand reaching for yours for what would be the first time of many throughout your date. 

+

+

The one-hour drive feels like minutes, and before you know it, you’re pulling into the makeshift parking lot beside the fairgrounds. The scent of fried dough, popcorn, and fresh-cut grass wafts through the open window, instantly transporting you to childhood summers. The sound of laughter, carnival games, and the occasional squeal from the rides fills the air.

Luke parks the car and hops out, circling around to open your door before you can even unbuckle your seatbelt.

“What a gentleman,” you tease, stepping out and adjusting the strap of your crossbody bag.

“Only the best for my date,” Luke retorts with a wink, grabbing your hand again.

The fair is bustling with people, families with kids in tow, couples hand-in-hand, and groups of teenagers excitedly darting between rides. Luke leads you through the crowd, his fingers laced securely with yours, making sure you don’t get separated.

“Where to first?” he asks, stopping in the middle of the main walkway. His eyes gleam with excitement as he scans the colorful booths and towering rides.

“I don’t know... you’re the one who planned this, remember?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Right, but it’s all about what you want,” he insists, gesturing dramatically to the array of options. “Games? Rides? Food? Name it.”Your eyes land on a giant Ferris wheel at the far end of the fairgrounds, its lights twinkling even in the daylight. 

“That,” you say, pointing to it. 

“The Ferris wheel? Starting strong, I like it.” Luke grins and starts leading you toward it, but not before pulling you to a halt at a booth along the way.

“Hold up,” he says, eyeing the rows of oversized stuffed animals dangling above a ring-toss game. “I’ve got to win you something first. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup. No fair date is complete without a ridiculously large stuffed animal you have no idea where to put later,” he says with a smirk, handing a few bills to the booth operator.

Luke’s competitive streak comes out in full force as he lines up his shots, determination etched into his face. The first two tosses miss, and you try to hide your giggles behind your hand.

“Oh, laugh it up,” he says, narrowing his eyes playfully. “I’m just warming up.”

The third ring lands perfectly around the target, and Luke lets out a victorious shout, throwing his hands in the air. The booth operator hands him a stuffed bear almost as big as you are, and he turns to you with a proud grin.

“For you,” he declares, presenting it with a flourish.

You laugh as you take it, hugging the soft toy close. “This is so impractical, but thank you.”

“Impractical? No way. It’s the ultimate prize,” Luke insists, leaning down to whisper, “Besides, it’s my excuse to keep carrying stuff for you all day.”

“Smooth,” you say with a grin, letting him take the bear back as you head toward the Ferris wheel, your hand slipping into his again.

As you step into the Ferris wheel carriage, the world below begins to shrink, and the view stretches out for miles. Luke sits close beside you, his knee brushing against yours as the carriage rocks gently.

“Okay, you were right,” he says, looking out at the sprawling fairgrounds and the sun painting the horizon in shades of gold. “This was the perfect first stop.”

You glance over at him, catching the soft, thoughtful expression on his face. “You’re full of surprises, Hughes.”

The Ferris wheel slows to a stop at the very top, giving you a moment of stillness high above the fairgrounds which is becoming increasingly busy as time seems to pause. 

“Pretty great view, huh?” Luke says, his voice quieter now, almost reverent.

“Yeah,” you agree, though your eyes aren’t on the horizon. Instead, they linger on the way the rays of sunlight catch the edges of Luke’s face, softening his features.

He turns to catch you staring, and a slow, teasing grin spreads across his face. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” you say quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I just—yeah, it’s a good view.”

Luke’s grin softens into something gentler as he leans back against the carriage, letting the quiet between you stretch comfortably. The Ferris wheel starts to move again, and he shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours.

By the time the two of you reach the ground the fair has hit peak chaos - hundreds of people filling the walkways, your new bear tight in one arm, Luke’s hand gripping your free hand as he leads the way through the crowds, his oversized frame making it easy for him to pull the two of you between the masses of people. 

“Alright, it’s time for the most important part of any fair experience: food,” he announces, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Let me guess—corn dogs and funnel cake?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” Luke says, feigning offence. “But also, those giant turkey legs and deep-fried... well, anything.” You laugh, letting him pull you toward a stand where the smell of fried batter and powdered sugar makes your mouth water. Luke insists on ordering for both of you, and soon your hands are full of hot, sugary funnel cake and a comically oversized lemonade.

The two of you find a spot on a bench near the carousel, sharing bites of the funnel cake and laughing at the powdered sugar that inevitably ends up on your face—and his shirt.

“You’ve got some...” Luke gestures vaguely toward your chin. 

“Where?” you ask, swiping at your face with a napkin.

“Nope, you missed it,” he says, reaching out to brush the spot away with his thumb. The simple touch sends a warm flutter through your chest, and for a moment, the chaos of the fair fades into the background.

“Thanks,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his.

“Anytime,” he replies, his gaze lingering just a little longer than usual.

“So what happened to your friends? Are they not meeting you here?” You question, clearing your throat as the two of your break eye contact, your focus going back down to the funnel cake in front of you. Luke also clearing his throat as he pulls his hands off the table where they were resting to pull his phone out of his back pocket. 

“I’m not sure, they’re somewhere around here.” He says, tucking his phone back into his pocket, digging his fork into the remaining food in front of you taking a bite as you tilt your head in confusion. 

“I thought you wanted to see your friends?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing deeper as Luke lets out a long sigh. 

“I do.” He admits, whispering something inaudible under his breath, his eyes still turned towards the table. 

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.” You joke. 

“I said, I’d rather spend today with you.” He repeats himself, his shoulders sagging a little almost in relief as the words leave his mouth - his eyes finally lifting to yours as he leans back on the picnic bench. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” He questions your head nodding quickly. 

“I like spending time with you too, Luke.” You admit, smiling at the surprised grin that spreads on Luke’s face. 

“That’s good.” He says feigning nonchalance. 

“Yeah, you’re like my best guy friend.” You tease, watching Luke’s face drop a little, the infamous Hughes pout spreading across his lips. 

“Great, this is great.” He groans, running his hand down his face in despair. His head dropping against the table as you let out a snort of laughter, sliding out from your seat, making sure to grab the arm of your oversized bear before making your way over to his side. 

“I’m kidding, Luke.” You whisper, as you perch one knee on the bench besides him, leaning forwards to press a soft kiss against his cheek, jumping back as he flings himself from his hunched position. “Are we gonna continue this date or not?” You smile, as Luke nods his head, sliding out of his seat, and reaching his hand behind him as he waits for you to follow after him. His fingers squeezing yours tight as you slide your palm into his. 

Your day seems to fly by as the hot summer sun slowly descends in the sky, your arms now filled with your giant bear and a more modest sized unicorn that had taken Luke six attempts to win from the basketball game. “You’re looking a little tired.” Luke notes as you make your way down the significantly emptier main walkway. “Do you want to start heading home?” 

“I just need to use the bathroom.” You respond, pausing your steps as you catch sight of the bathroom sign, Luke quickly pulling the stuffed animals from your arms motioning for you to go ahead. 

“I’ll wait right here.” He says the sound of his voice being called hitting you as you walk into the restroom. You make quick work of your business after waiting in line for ten minutes, trying to push your way out of the bathroom without touching any of the admittedly dirty walls. 

Luke is exactly where you left him, talking animatedly with who you quickly realise must be the friends he had avoided meeting up with all day so he could spend the day with you. You take a few steps forwards before deciding to hover back a little bit, letting the friends catch up without the interruption of a stranger. Pulling your phone out of your bag to check the notifications you had ignored for most of the day. 

Jack 😈: let me know when you guys are heading home. 

Jack 😈: I hope you had a lot of fun on your date

Jack 😈: I’m sorry if I made things weird between us. 

Quinnifer 😇 : I think you broke my brother. 

“Hey, what are you doing over there?” Your head pops up at the sound of Luke’s voice, the sight of the group now turned towards you making your eyes bulge a little. 

“Just catching up on my messages.” You say quickly, awkwardly showing your phone to the group, hoping it was enough to dismiss the attention. You watch as Luke’s friends nod to you in acknowledgement before turning to talk to each other in hushed whispers, the words obviously pleasing Luke as his boyish grin lights up his face. 

His eyes make contact with yours, his head motioning for you to come over and join him, his hand reaching out towards you, making quick grabby motions similar to that of a toddler as he waits for you to take his hand. You feel his body relax as you slip your hand into his, his arm pulling you close to his side as his raises your joined hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, your heart speeding up to a hundred miles an hour as you glance up at him in surprise. 

“It was good seeing you guys, we need to do a lake trip soon.” Luke interjects, wrapping up to conversation efficiently as he quickly bids his friends farewell, making promises to hang out soon, as the two of you slowly wander away from the group of college students.  

As you settle into the car for the ride home, Luke glances over at you, his expression soft and a little shy. “So... was this a good first date?”

You smile, leaning your head against the window. “It was perfect.”Luke grins, reaching over to place his hand gently against your thigh, his hand remaining there for the whole trip home, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin. 

+

+

 Luke parks the car and turns off the engine. For a moment, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the air filled with a warm contentment that neither of you seems in a rush to break. His hand lingers on your thigh, the steady pressure a grounding reminder of his presence.

Finally, Luke looks over at you with a playful smirk. “You’re not going to make me walk you to your door like a proper gentleman, are you?”

You chuckle, undoing your seatbelt. “Well, you did just earn some serious points tonight. But sure, let’s see how gentlemanly you can be.”

He shakes his head, pretending to be exasperated, but he’s out of the car in an instant, jogging around to your side to open the door for you. He extends a hand with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.”

You take his hand, laughing as he helps you out of the car. The cool night air brushes against your skin, and you instinctively lean closer to him as you walk up to the door. His arm slips around your waist, holding you close as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

When you reach your doorstep, you turn to face him, surprised as he doesn’t slow down, opening the front door and ushering you inside. 

“Where are you going?” You ask, Luke turning back to look at you with a smirk. 

“This is the door, but not your door.” He responds, your brain catching up quickly as you close the front door softly before following him up the stairs until the two of you stop outside your bedroom door, your heart fluttering as you meet his gaze. His boyish grin is back, but there’s a hint of nervousness in his eyes now. He rubs the back of his neck, glancing down for a moment before looking at you again.

“So… I had a really good time today,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable.

“Me too,” you reply, your voice matching his quiet tone. “Thank you for making it so special.”

He takes a small step closer, his free hand reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m glad. I wanted it to be… I don’t know, just right.”

“It was,” you assure him, your heart racing as the space between you shrinks. Lukes hand slowly cupping the side of your face, searching for any signs of resistance before he leans down, pressing his lips firmly against yours, your own hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, as you lift to your tippy toes pulling yourself tight against him. 

His free hand raising to grab hold of your door handle, as he twists it open, slowly walking the two of you inside your bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot. Both of Lukes hands are gentle against your jaw as you pull away from him, his eyes meeting yours as you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Is this too much?” He asks gently, his thumbs rubbing softly against your cheeks, his breathing heavy as he waits for you to respond. 

“Is this not kinda of crossing the line? I mean I know we didn’t set any rules for the competition but do you not feel weird that I’ve kissed you and your brother?” You explain, grimacing as you speak the situation out loud. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” Luke asks slowly, ignoring the rest of your statement, his eyes searching yours as you nod slowly - unable to miss the way Luke grins as he mumbles, “Then fuck the competition.” Luke doesn’t waste time in reconnecting your lips, his hands firm on your hips as he walks to two of you back towards your bed, perching himself on the edge. 

Luke’s lips leave yours for no more than ten seconds, ripping his shirt over his head as his hands tug your body onto his lap, your legs straddling him as he shoots you a quick grin, before leaning up to catch your lips again. Your body melts against him your hands rake up his arms, Luke letting out a small shiver as they tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

You’re both starved for each other, taking the time to melt your bodies together as Luke lies back on the mattress pulling you down with him, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs, before moving higher up your body. 

“Why’d you have to wear fucking overalls?” He grimaces as you sit back against his pelvis, your hands briefly bracing against his bare abdomen the muscles tensing under your touch before reaching up to undo the two buttons holding up the top of the overalls letting the top fall off your shoulders. Luke lets out a shaky breath as he reaches forwards griping the hem of your sweater waiting for your small nod before pulling it up and over your head. 

“I wasn’t really going for aesthetic when I got dressed this morning.” You admit, glancing down at the black sports bra with a frown, your overalls bunching at your hips as you glance down at Luke, still sprawled on your mattress glancing up at you with a sparkle in his eyes.  

“I’ve never been one for aesthetics.” He says quietly, his hands running up the skin on your sides, goosebumps blossoming on your skin as he pauses as the clasps on your sports bra, a knock sounding through the room. 

“Are you in there?” You just manage to catch as your head spins towards the door, the clear shadowing seeping under the door, Jack’s voice slicing through the tension in the room. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Luke growls, his hands sliding back down to your hips to hold you steady as he sits up from his spot on the mattress, his arms wrapping around your waist as your turn your head back to him in panic. Luke leans forwards, skin pressing against skin as he steals one, two, three more kisses before pushing himself off the mattress, your legs wrapped around his hips, Luke slowly letting you place your feet back to the ground. 

“Don’t panic.” Luke whispers, his forehead pressing to yours. “He probably just wants to talk to you about your date last night.” Luke reminds you, pressing one more sweet kiss to your nose before stepping away from you, picking your sweater up off the floor and handing it to you to put on. 

“I’ll come back later.” Luke reassures you, grabbing his own shirt off the floor before moving towards your bedroom door, pulling it open and sending his surprised older brother a glare. “Don’t say anything stupid.” Luke warns his brother before padding down the hallway to his own room. 

Jack glances over at you in surprise, his expression almost an exact mirror of this morning when Luke left your room. “I have a feeling I interrupted something.” Jack notes your arms crossing over your chest as you choose not to respond. 

“I just wanted to apologise for last night and thought that maybe the kiss made things weird between us but…” Jack pauses, glancing back in the direction his brother just went before looking back at you, his expression shifting from soft confusion to simmering anger, “Clearly the kiss wasn’t the problem.” 

“What are you saying, Jack?” 

“I’m just saying I thought maybe I crossed a line by kissing you but obviously that line doesn’t exist with you.” Jack reiterates, his words making you lift your eyebrows in surprise. 

“You were right, Jack. The kiss wasn’t the problem.” You begin, opening to your mouth to continue explaining but pausing as you watch Jack take a step backwards, his head nodding as he frowns. 

“No don’t bother - I understand now.” He says quickly, escaping down the hallway to his room slamming the door harshly the sounding ringing through the house.