#damn I should do that with Basil…. so here’s this!!

[dannybobany]

Ena’s your Basil

So I could NOT get this idea out of my head after having it, so finally I decided to actually DRAW it instead of just sitting on the concept

As number one basil enjoyer it was inevitable i’d start shoving him into other universes- I’m just surprised it took this long! I suppose I’ve just been really preoccupied with my AU’s and whatnot

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ NO WAY ?!

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pairing : sophialaforteza x brothersbff!reader

synopsis : ever since she said yes to alex. you’ve changed. you laugh with lara. you smile at every other girl but her. until one moment behind the curtains.

a/n : hehehehehe. THIS IS CRAZY IDK WHAT I WAS DOING PLS IGNORE THE MISTAKES AND HOW EVERYTJING IS ALL OVER THE PLACE. anyways im back to unemployment heh. been playing minecraft and kinda ignoring this fic ugh 😒. but it’s here!! if you havent read the first part its here !!

the night still buzzes in your veins, the lingering high of the concert making you feel weightless. beside you, basil is still laughing about something, your footsteps unhurried as the two of you walk through the thinning crowd.

“man, that was crazy,” basil says, running a hand through his damp hair. “thanks for convincing me to join the band.”

you smirk, wiping off your sweat with a towel and leaving it hanging around your shoulders. “we needed someone useless enough to play bass.”

basil scoffs, shoving your shoulder. “you’re full of shit.”

you just laugh, the adrenaline still fading from your system, your limbs starting to feel heavier, more grounded. basil grins, triumphant, but your laughter softens, your expression shifting as something heavier settles in your chest. you hesitate, licking your lips.

“hey, uh,” you start, glancing at him. “i have to tell you something.”

basil slows his steps, sensing the change in tone. “what’s up?”

you inhale, exhale. flex your fingers. the words have been sitting at the back of your throat for too long, and if you don’t say them now, you don’t think you ever will.

“it’s about sophia.”

basil raises an eyebrow, waiting.

your throat tightens. “i like her.” then, quieter, more certain.more raw, “i’ve liked her for a long time.”

basil doesn’t react at first. just blinks at you, processing. then, after a long beat, a slow smirk spreads across his lips.

“so you finally grew a pair.”

you groan, tilting your head back. “bro, shut up.”

basil lets out a laugh, clapping you on the back. “nah, this is good. you should tell her. i mean, she’s been weird about you since you came.”

your brows furrow. “weird how?”

basil shrugs, but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. “she’s been—”

“she’s been acting all… i don’t know, restless? like she’s here but not really here, y’know?”

you frown, gripping your water bottle tighter. “what do you mean?”

basil tilts his head, thinking. “like, okay. earlier, before the set, she was all quiet. which, first of all, unheard of.”

you huff a small laugh. yeah, that does sound weird. basil takes a sip of his drink before adding, “oh, and she keeps staring at you.”

your grip falters. “staring?”

basil smirks. “yeah, dude. like, eyes glued to you, totally zoned out, caught in the moment—i swear, it was embarrassing. Like damn, get a grip, soph.”

you feel warmth creep up your neck. “you’re messing with me.”

basil rolls his eyes. “yeah, because i have nothing better to do than gaslight you about my little sister having heart eyes for you.”

you click your tongue, shaking your head, but before you can respond, something catches your eye.

a few paces ahead, past the clusters of people drifting between food stalls and game booths, sophia stands beside alex at one of the carnival stands. the glow of the overhead bulbs bathes her in soft gold, illuminating the sharp lines of her profile. the delicate furrow of her brows, the subtle downturn of her lips. 

she’s watching alex play one of those rigged bottle toss games, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. if she’s trying to feign interest, she’s not doing a very good job. alex is losing. badly.

basil lets out a sharp laugh. “he sucks.”

your jaw locks. the response catches in your throat, thick and bitter, before you manage a curt, “yeah.”

basil glances at you then, catching something in your tone, something restrained. he doesn’t push, but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes when he tilts his head toward the booth. “c’mon, let’s go say hi.”

you exhale through your nose, set your shoulders, and follow him.

you weave through the thinning crowd, the smell of fried dough and butter lingering in the cool night air. as you approach, sophia spots you first. her gaze flickers toward you in a sharp, fleeting moment, like a reflex. but instead of holding it, she drops her eyes just as quickly, snapping back to alex.

that’s new.

you can’t remember the last time sophia actively avoided looking at you.

not that you have time to dwell on it, because alex lets out a groan as another ball bounces uselessly off the rim. “dude, this game is rigged,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

sophia doesn’t even pretend to disagree. “or you just have no hand-eye coordination,” she says, dry and unimpressed.

“nah, it’s definitely rigged.”

basil snorts. “what, still blaming the game for your lack of talent?”

alex turns at that, grinning when he sees you. “hey, man, this shit’s impossible.”

you barely hear him. you’re still watching sophia. still waiting for her to acknowledge you. but she only nudges alex’s arm, shifting slightly away. “just let it go, dude.”

alex scoffs. “nah, watch, i got this.” he tosses another ball. it ricochets off the rim and lands unceremoniously on the ground.

your lips curl, sharp and mocking. “wow. impressive.”

alex shoots you a glare. “you think you can do better?”

you step forward, tugging a couple of bills from your pocket and handing them to the vendor. “yeah, actually.”

it’s instant. sophia’s head snaps toward you, like the words have struck something in her.

you don’t acknowledge it. don’t acknowledge her. instead, you roll your shoulders back, picking up a ball, your fingers curling around the smooth surface. your movements are casual, practiced, but beneath the surface, something burns.

your jaw is still clenched from earlier. your mind still reeling from basil’s words, from the way sophia hasn’t met your eyes, from the way she stands beside alex, arms crossed like she’s closing herself off. you’ve spent too long standing still, too long waiting, too long biting your tongue. so you aim, exhale slow, and throw.

the ball hits the rim, bounces once, then sinks straight through the bottles.

the vendor whistles. “damn, nice shot.”

alex groans, dragging a hand through his hair. “what the hell.”

basil bursts into laughter, clapping alex on the back. “ just admit you suck.”

you ignore them, your focus fixed on the row of prizes dangling from the booth. you glance at sophia then, for the first time really looking at her since you walked up.

“which one?” you ask, your voice measured, careful. sophia hesitates.

for a fleeting second, something wavers in her expression. a flicker of uncertainty, of something almost vulnerable, before she forces it away.

she licks her lips, eyes darting to the stuffed animals. “that one, i guess.” she points at a small blue penguin.

the vendor grabs it and hands it to you. you turn, holding it out. sophia stares at the toy, her grip on her own arms tightening slightly. then, slowly, she reaches out.

your fingers brush. you feel it. warm and brief, a barely-there spark. but sophia pulls away.

you don’t.

sophia doesn’t know why she hesitated. it’s just a stuffed animal. it shouldn’t mean anything. but when you look at her like that. patient, expectant, like you care. her chest tightens.

her fingers curl around the penguin, but her hands feel unsteady. she pulls away too quickly, needing distance, but it doesn’t help. her heart is still racing.

she doesn’t know why she feels this way. or maybe she does, and she’s just trying too hard to ignore it.

she clutches the penguin close to her chest, her fingers pressing into the soft fabric like it’s something solid to hold onto.

then alex laughs. “damn, i should’ve let you play first.”

your lips twitch. “you should’ve.”

basil coughs, barely covering his amusement.

“well, it’s fine,” alex says, tossing an arm around sophia’s shoulders. “i still got the girl, so i win in the end, right?”

you freeze.

it’s immediate. the way your whole body tenses, your breath catching in your throat. the way the warmth in your veins turns to ice, the words landing in your chest like a punch you hadn’t braced for.

your fingers curl into your palms, nails digging into skin. sophia stiffens under alex’s arm. you see it. feel it.

then, finally, sophia meets your gaze.

your jaw clenches. you don’t say anything. sophia’s throat bobs. she exhales sharply, then mutters, “we’re just dating. it’s not official.” she says as she pushes alex’s hand off of her. 

the words hang in the air like a frayed thread, fragile and stretching too thin. alex frowns, blinking. “uh, isn’t that the same thing?”

“not really.”

“wow, congrats,” you try to say, forcing the words past the knot in your throat. your voice tried to stay steady, to sound like you mean it. but it comes out flat, hollow. basil looks at you sharply, his gaze bouncing between you and the couple. he wants to punch alex. you can see it in the way his jaw clenches. but more than that, he wants to comfort you.

before he can do either, you force out a quick excuse. “um—i gotta go tinkle. you know… that set was crazy.”

sophia shifts at your comment. her eyes flick to you, searching, and you know she can tell something’s wrong.

before basil can stop you, you’re already turning away, moving fast. 

the moment you’re out of sight, the pressure behind your eyes becomes unbearable. the world blurs at the edges, lights smearing into streaks, voices muffled against the pounding in your chest.

you were too slow to say anything. too slow to brave it. too slow to tell her how you felt before someone else took the chance.

you swallow hard, blinking against the tears, but they keep coming, hot and relentless.

before you started blaming yourself. a body collided with you. “oh sorry- yn?” it was lara. she was already looking at you with concern written all over her face. “lets sit down.” 

she grabbed your wrists before you can even tell her to go away. lara doesn’t give you a choice. her grip is firm but not forceful, her pace steady as she leads you away from the crowds, away from the suffocating buzz of the carnival. you don’t fight it. you don’t have the energy to.

your chest feels too tight, your throat raw from holding back everything you don’t have the strength to say.

lara doesn’t speak right away. she waits until you’re both settled on a bench near the edge of the boardwalk overlooking the sea, where the noise is distant enough to feel bearable. only then does she turn to you, eyes scanning your face, piecing things together without needing to ask.

for a moment it was quiet. the sound of waves could only be heard between the two of you. “stay here” said lara breaking the calming silence. you didn’t react. your mind was out of it. 

after 5 minutes, lara came back with two ice cream cones. lara hands you one of the cones without a word, pressing the cold treat into your palm. no hesitation, no questioning. just an unspoken understanding.

you glance down at it, then back at her. “really?”

she shrugs, already taking a bite of her own. “figured you needed something to shut your brain up.”

you let out a quiet, breathy laugh, the first genuine one in what feels like hours. the weight in your chest doesn’t disappear, but it shifts, just enough. “thanks.”

lara doesn’t acknowledge it, just nudges your knee with hers and leans back against the bench, eyes locked on the dark horizon.

you both sit there, letting the silence stretch. it isn’t awkward, isn’t heavy. it just is. the waves crash against the shore, the distant sounds of the carnival hum in the background, and for the first time tonight, you feel like you can breathe.

you don’t say it out loud, but you’re grateful. not just for the ice cream, but for lara’s presence, for the way she doesn’t press for answers you aren’t ready to give.

after a few minutes, she exhales sharply, tilting her head. “i’m just saying, if you had to lose out to someone, alex is a really pathetic choice.”

you snort, shaking your head. “dude.”

“what? he’s a douche.”

you roll your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitches. “apparently, that’s not a dealbreaker.”

lara hums, feigning deep thought. “tragic.”

“mhm.”

the night air is cool against your skin, the scent of salt and sugar lingering in the breeze. your ice cream is starting to drip down your fingers, but wiping it away feels like too much effort.

you were enjoying your ice cream until the silence was broken once again when someone called your name.

“sophia?” lara mutters, barely tilting her head.

you freeze for a split second before turning around.

sophia is standing a few feet away, her expression shifting the moment your eyes meet. for a brief moment, she looks relieved. almost pleased. to have found you sitting alone. her shoulders loosen slightly, the tension in her stance easing. but then she sees lara.

her expression falters. the subtle warmth in her eyes cools, replaced by something sharper, something guarded. she presses her lips together, crossing her arms over her chest, posture stiffening like she’s bracing for something.

you don’t say anything. just wait.

“we’re leaving,” she finally says, voice even but not as casual as she probably wants it to be. “come on.”

normally, you would’ve stood up immediately, tossed the rest of your ice cream and followed without hesitation. but you don’t.

sophia notices.

her grip tightens around her sleeves as she watches you stay seated, licking the last bit of your ice cream off your fingers like you’re in no rush at all. she shifts on her feet, waiting for the inevitable moment when you’ll sigh, stand, and trail after her like you always do.

but you don’t move.

she exhales through her nose, impatient. “yn.”

still, nothing.

something twists uncomfortably in her stomach. this is different. this isn’t how things go. you’re supposed to come with her. you’re supposed to listen, even when she doesn’t ask nicely.

she turns on her heel, expecting your footsteps to follow.

but they don’t.

sophia stops after a few steps, a cold prickle running down her spine. her fingers curl against her arms as she turns back around, trying not to look as thrown off as she feels.

she watches as you exhale, finally shifting forward. you stretch a little, wiping your hands against your jeans before patting lara’s shoulder, murmuring something too low to hear.

and then you walk right past her.

sophia barely steps aside in time, the air between you charged with something heavy, something unfamiliar.

no glance. no acknowledgment.

you just keep moving, heading toward the set to gather your things.

sophia stares after you, the unease in her chest settling like a weight she can’t shake off. she doesn’t understand this feeling clawing at her ribs, the frustration bubbling beneath her skin. it’s ridiculous. you were just sitting with lara. just eating ice cream. there’s nothing wrong with that.

and yet, she hates the way it makes her feel.

on the ride home, the car is quieter than usual. not tense, not awkward. just quiet. the kind that feels intentional. like no one wants to be the first to break it.

you sit by the window, gaze locked on the passing streetlights, the glow casting shifting patterns across your face. your hands rest in your lap, fingers curled loosely around the fabric of your jeans. you haven’t spoken since getting in the car, and you don’t plan to.

sophia sits beside you, her arms crossed, legs tucked up slightly like she’s trying to make herself smaller. she keeps sneaking glances at you, waiting for something. maybe for you to turn and meet her eyes. maybe for you to say something, anything, like you always do.

but you don’t.

your silence feels different tonight. it’s not the comfortable kind, not the easy kind. it’s heavy, distant. like you’re not physically here and it’s bothering her more than it should.

when the car reaches sophia’s house, you step out without a word, moving straight to the trunk to grab some of the equipment. basil does the same, shooting you a glance, but he doesn’t say anything.

sophia follows, watching as you walk ahead of her, shoulders tense in a way that’s so unlike you. usually, you’d be the one cracking a joke about how you always end up carrying the heaviest stuff or making some offhand comment about how you basically live here at this point. but tonight, you’re just quiet.

it’s throwing her off.

inside, you set the last bag down in the usual spot near the couch. basil disappears into the kitchen, giving you two some space—not that you seem to notice. you just straighten up, dust your hands off, and let out a quiet exhale.

“alright, i’m heading out.”

sophia blinks. “oh. you’re not staying?” usually you’d stay for awhile. chatting with basil , play with their dogs or even annoying sophia. but today. 

“nah, i’m tired.”

she waits for it. the usual—maybe a teasing remark, a lazy grin, even a light shove to her shoulder. but it doesn’t come.

instead, you just nod at basil, say a quick “see you” to him, and then. nothing. no glance in her direction, no hug, no playful ruffling of her hair that you know she pretends to hate. your eyes really do look tired. 

just silence.

her stomach twists.

she stands there, watching as you walk out the door without looking back. something about it makes her chest feel tight, an odd pressure settling in like she’s missing something. like she’s done something wrong.

before she even realizes it, she’s following you.

by the time she steps onto the driveway, you’re already in the driver’s seat, hands gripping the wheel like you can’t wait to leave. her stomach twists. she hesitates for a second, fingers tightening around the sleeves of her hoodie, before raising a hand and tapping lightly on your window.

you roll it down, and suddenly, you’re looking at her. really looking at her.

it makes her nervous.

up close, she can see it clearly—the exhaustion in your face, the dull weight in your eyes. you look drained, like you’ve been running on empty all night, and she wonders why she didn’t notice it sooner.

“uh—your set,” she starts, shifting her weight, suddenly unsure of what to say. “it was really good today. i didn’t get to tell you earlier.”

your lips twitch, barely forming a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “thanks.” 

sophia doesn’t like this. the quiet. the distance. the way you feel just out of reach. she knows you would’ve been teasing her. for complimenting you. but nothing. not even a grin from you. 

she lingers, arms crossed over her chest like it’ll help ease the discomfort pressing into her ribs. typically, you’d stay. even if you were tired, you’d still crash on their couch for a while, maybe steal something from the fridge before heading home. but tonight, you’re already leaving.

“see you next week, soph.”

she blinks. “next week? you’re not coming tomorrow?”

you shake your head. “can’t. got stuff to do.”

the answer is too easy. 

she shifts again, fingers gripping her sleeve. “you sure? it’s still early. you could—” she stops herself, biting the inside of her cheek. she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. doesn’t know why she suddenly doesn’t want you to go.

but you just sigh, rubbing a hand over your face before nodding. “sorry soph. im busy— i just— i dont think im feeling well.” you stopped, eyes meeting sophias. 

and for a second, she forgets what she was going to say. sophia swallows. her voice catches in her throat.

sophia doesn’t say anything. she just watches as you roll the window back up, put the car in reverse, and pull away.

and she stands there long after your tail lights disappear, arms wrapped around herself, wondering why it suddenly feels like she just let something important slip right through her fingers.

the following week has been dull for sophia. not because she doesn’t have anything to do—she does, as her schedule is packed with rehearsals, school, and the usual chaos of balancing everything at once. but because she rarely sees you anymore.

and when she does, it’s different.

whenever she walks into a room and you’re there—laughing at something her brother said, leaning back on the couch like you belong—her chest tightens in something close to relief. but before she can even think about joining, you’re making some excuse, getting up, slipping away before she can say anything.

it’s deliberate. she knows it is.

but it’s the worst when she sees you with lara.

the two of you have been close lately, too close for her liking. lara leans into your space, nudges your arm, laughs at something only the two of you understand. it makes sophia’s skin itch, her fingers twitch like she wants to tear something apart.

(she doesn’t know why it gets to her so much.)

at least here, during tutoring, you can’t run.

you’re sitting across from her, flipping through the calculus textbook with that familiar, unreadable look on your face. you’ve been quieter than usual, more distant, but your explanations are as sharp as ever, walking her through every problem with the same level of patience that makes her want to watch you forever.

she wonders if you know how amazing you are at this. not just at math, but at explaining things, at making the hardest problems feel manageable. she watches the way your fingers tap absently against the paper, the way your brows furrow when you’re thinking. she wants to tell you.

she doesn’t.

instead, she taps her pencil against the desk, glancing at you. “hey, the silver screen is this friday. you wanna come?”

you pause, glancing up from the textbook. “alex won’t go with you?” the words come out before you can stop them, and you hate how they sound. detached. like it doesn’t sting to picture her with him.

you know exactly what the silver screen is. an annual event the school organizes, setting up a massive projector on the football field, fairy lights strung up around the bleachers, blankets spread across the grass. students bring snacks, some come in groups, others… as couples.

you remember your sister talking about it when you were younger, how she met her husband there, how it was one of those nights that stuck with her forever. she told you it had this kind of magic to it. something meant for the kind of people who find love in stolen glances and shared laughter under the open sky.

but the idea of sophia in that setting—with alex—makes your chest tighten.

she shifts in her seat, her pencil tapping against her notebook. “he’s going camping or something.” she shrugs, but you notice the way she’s watching you closely, like she’s waiting for something. “anyway, it’s not that serious. just a movie night.”

just a movie night.

you swallow, forcing your gaze back down to the calculus problem in front of you, but the numbers blur together. you should say no. you should tell her you’re busy, give her some excuse, avoid the way this entire conversation makes you feel.

sophia feels like she’s standing on the edge of something dangerous, something she doesn’t quite understand. she should drop it. should let yn change the subject, move on like this was just some offhand suggestion.

but then she speaks again, quieter this time. “you don’t have to, obviously. just thought it’d be nice.”

and that, more than anything. makes it impossible to refuse.

the silence stretches, and sophia suddenly regrets every decision she’s made in the last two minutes.

“yeah,” you murmur, gripping your pen a little tighter. “i’ll think about it.”

relief rushes through sophia so fast it almost makes her lightheaded. she nods, trying not to seem too eager, forcing herself to focus on her notes. but her heart is still racing.

she doesn’t know if this is a good idea.

you have been avoiding her lately, and sophia doesn’t know why. she sees it in the way you always leave the moment she shows up, how you makes excuses to be anywhere else. even during tutoring, she feels the shift. 

and maybe that’s why sophia is scared. because for the first time in weeks, she’s found an excuse to keep you close.

sophia doesn’t push. she just nods, a small, almost satisfied expression crossing her face before she drops her attention back to her notes.

she’ll deal with that later. right now, all that matters is that you haven’t said no.

sophia doesn’t even like flowers that much.

but alex had shown up out of nowhere, smiling as she handed over a single baby’s breath, saying something about how she was sorry that sophia missed the silver screen.

sophia barely registered the words. she just held the flower between her fingers, nodding along, trying not to overthink how wrong it felt to be standing here, listening to alex talk when all she could think about was you.

and then alex was gone.

sophia barely had time to process it before you appeared, stepping up beside her with that unreadable look in your eyes.

“nice flower,” you said, gaze flickering down to the small bloom in her hand.

sophia didn’t even get the chance to respond before you plucked it from her fingers, twirling it once between your own as you started walking. instinctively, she followed. there was no hesitation, no second thought—just the pull of you leading the way, and sophia falling into step beside you.

as soon as you start walking, you begin talking.

something about your day, something about how your morning was a disaster because you spilled coffee on your notes, and then how lara had the audacity to laugh instead of help. something about that makes her twitch. you’re still talking, completely unaware of the way sophia’s stomach twists when you bring up lara.

“—and then lara said i need to get a life because i spent my saturday fixing my guitar instead of going out, but she was literally—”

sophia isn’t sure why she feels weird about this. you and lara have always been friends. but hearing just how much time you’ve been spending together lately makes something uncomfortable settle in her chest.

before she can stop herself, the words leave her mouth. “lara likes someone from the girls' football team.”

you pause mid-step, blinking at her. “okay?” okay?? what was she even expecting you to say?

she has no idea why she said that. no idea why she felt the need to say anything. you stare at her for a second longer, like you’re trying to figure out if there’s a point to what she just blurted out. and maybe there is. maybe she just wants you to stop bringing her up so casually when it’s already so obvious that lara gets more of your time than she does. but you don’t push. you just shrug, muttering something about how you hope lara finally gets her love life sorted out, before continuing whatever you were saying earlier. sophia barely hears it.

her face feels hot. her hands are clammy. she keeps her gaze forward, hoping you won’t notice. she needs to get a grip.

you keep talking like nothing happened, like sophia didn’t just embarrass herself for no reason.

her face is burning. she can still hear her own voice echoing in her head, the absolute stupidity of it making her want to crawl into her locker and never come out. why did she say that? why did she care?

sophia nods along, half-listening.

she wants to focus on your words, she really does, but all she can think about is the fact that you’re talking to her again.

after a week of cold shoulders and passing glances that never quite landed, you’re walking beside her like nothing happened. you’re initiating the conversation, keeping the space between you light and easy. and god, she missed this. she missed you.

she barely even notices when you toss the flower into the trash without a second thought. she’s too busy watching the way you move, the way your hands gesture when you talk, the way your voice dips when you complain about lara. it’s familiar and new all at once, and she hates how much she’s hanging onto every word, desperate to make up for the days you kept your distance.

before she knows it, you’re outside her classroom. she stops, blinking up at you as you roll your shoulders back like you’re bracing yourself.

“i’ll go to the silver screen with you.”

sophia’s breath catches.

“i’ll pick you up at six.”

she barely processes the words before you’re already stepping away, disappearing down the hall. 

her hands are ice cold, but her face feels like it’s on fire.the bell rings, but she doesn’t move. she barely hears it over the way her pulse roars in her ears. students push past her, some rushing into the classroom, others lingering in the hallway, but sophia doesn’t register any of it. she’s stuck—feet planted, hands gripping the hem of her sweater, head tilted slightly down as her hair falls over her burning face.

her lips twitch, and then, before she can stop it, a smile breaks through. and suddenly, her whole chest feels like it’s about to burst.

fireworks. that’s what it feels like. like someone just lit a match inside her, and now she’s sparking. she barely remembers how to breathe.

someone bumps into her shoulder on their way into class, snapping her out of it. she blinks rapidly, heart still hammering against her ribs, and forces her feet to move. she slips inside, head ducked low, smile still tugging at her lips, fingers twitching at her sides.

she doesn’t think she’s going to hear a single thing the teachers say today.

sophia had to stay back until four for cheer practice. it was now 3:57.

she stepped out of the locker room, still adjusting the strap of her gym bag, cheeks flushed from the last half hour of cheer practice. she was let off early for once. her coach had other meetings to get to, and sophia didn’t mind. in fact, she was almost relieved. because it meant she got to see you. not for tutoring. just… to be with you. and even if it was just a few minutes walking to your car and getting driven home by you, it was something she’d been looking forward to since the morning.

she hummed quietly as she walked down the quiet hallway, shoes squeaking softly against the floor. it was nice to finally have a moment where she didn’t feel like she had to run into alex or sit through another lunch of watching you laugh at something lara said.

when she passed the music room, she slowed down. you said you’d be there, working on something for the club. just a quick touch-up for an upcoming assembly or whatever. she thought she’d check on you, see if you were ready to leave.

but then she saw you.

you were there, standing by the far piano, eyes crinkling in that way that always made sophia’s chest ache. and beside you was lara. laughing at something, close enough that it made sophia’s stomach twist. your shoulder brushed lara’s when you leaned down to show her something on the sheet music.

sophia couldn’t move. 

she should’ve just gone outside. waited like a normal person. but instead, she was frozen there, just outside the open doorway, like some kind of idiot. watching two of her friends laugh over a song she didn’t care about, in a space that suddenly felt like it didn’t belong to her.

and she hated that it made her mad.

lara had only known you for what, a few months? but somehow she had you laughing, smiling, letting her in. meanwhile, you could barely look sophia in the eye last week. she was your date to the silver screen, and yet she didn’t feel like she meant anything to you.

so she turned around. quietly, without saying a word.

sophia walked to the front of the school and sat on the stairs, bag at her feet. the late afternoon sun warmed the concrete, but she barely noticed it. her thoughts were louder than everything else.

why did it feel like this? why did her chest feel tight every time she saw you with lara? why did she hate that lara could make you laugh so easily? and more than anything—why did she care so much?

she already had alex, didn’t she?

except alex didn’t make her feel like this. he never did.

she buried her face in her hands for a second, trying to breathe past the knot in her chest. this was stupid. she had no reason to be jealous. you weren’t even hers.

but then she heard the door open behind her.

your voice came next. soft, almost surprised. “soph? what are you doing out here?”

sophia looked up, blinking fast. the sun caught on your hair, and you squinted slightly against the light as you stepped down toward her. and just like that, the irritation and the jealousy faded into something warmer. something she hated to name.

“you ready to go?” you asked, adjusting your bag.

sophia nodded, getting up quickly and brushing off the back of her skirt. “yeah.”

you didn’t mention lara. didn’t say anything about what she might’ve seen through that window. and maybe sophia was grateful for that.

but as you started walking beside her toward the parking lot, close enough for your arm to brush hers, sophia realized something quietly. no matter how much time passed, or who else was around, being next to you always felt like something she didn’t want to lose.

she had to do something. but as for now, she could not wait until silver screen to spend time with you.

it was finally friday. the day of the silver screen.

yesterday’s tutoring session was strange. sophia wasn’t herself—distant, distracted. her eyes kept drifting away from the textbook, and her responses were slower than usual. she was zoning out, completely out of it. and no matter how many times you asked if something was wrong, she just shook her head and gave you a half-smile.

you hated how fast your mind jumped to alex. hated how easy it was to assume he had something to do with it. maybe they argued. maybe he did something stupid again. maybe sophia was finally tired of pretending to be okay. or maybe—maybe it had nothing to do with alex at all, and you were just projecting.

still, the silence between you two yesterday stuck to you more than it should’ve. especially with how much you were looking forward to seeing her again today.

you were leaning against the wall outside your second period class when lara walked up to you, balancing her iced coffee in one hand and her phone in the other.

“you good?” she asked, eyes scanning your face. “you look like someone broke your guitar.”

you scoffed. “just tired.”

lara raised an eyebrow. “tired of watching sophia and alex exist, or just tired in general?”

you didn’t answer. instead, you looked down, kicking lightly at the floor. the way she said it so casually, like she already knew exactly what was bothering you, made your stomach twist.

“look,” lara said, taking a sip of her drink, “i’m not gonna give you the whole ‘move on’ speech. but maybe… take a chance?” you glanced at her, confused. “on what?”

“on anyone,” she said simply. “any girl who even breathes in your direction. flirt back. talk first. give someone else a shot.”

you laughed, dry and a little hollow. “that’d be you, then.” lara snorted. “please. you’re attractive, but you’re not my type.” you clutched your chest dramatically. “ouch.”

“you’ll live,” she teased. “just… stop shutting people out. you never know who might surprise you. maybe tonight, some cute girl’s gonna walk up to you under the lights and change everything.” you rolled your eyes but smiled, soft and small. “we’ll see.”

 “we will see,” lara said, and just as she was about to continue, someone appeared beside you both.

“hi, guys!”

you turned. sophia.

she was smiling too brightly. her voice slightly too chipper to be casual. her eyes flickered between you and lara, and for a second, she looked like she was regretting even approaching. but lara, oblivious or simply unbothered, grinned.

“just the person i needed to see,” lara said. “music club needs extra help for the orchestra set-up on sunday.”

sophia blinked. “orchestra?”

“yeah,” lara nodded. “stage layout, equipment prep, stuff like that. we’re a little short on hands on saturday. you in?”

sophia hesitated. “i don’t know… i might be out with alex that day.”

your stomach dropped, but your face didn’t change. you just offered a tight-lipped smile, eyes unfocused. lara nudged sophia’s arm. “yn and another girl is gonna be there.” sophia turned to look at you, and you met her eyes briefly. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to. she hesitated again, visibly torn. “…maybe. i have to see how saturday goes.

“well, if you change your mind,” lara said, giving sophia a knowing look, “it’s always open. besides, yn could use a friend there.”

sophia opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out right away. you didn’t press. you just watched her quietly, your expression unreadable. she didn’t know what she expected to see in your face, but whatever it was—it wasn’t there. 

sophia could hear the doorbell ring, followed by basil’s unmistakably loud voice yelling, “your favourite person is here!”

she paused at the top of the stairs, heart ticking a little faster. she didn’t know why that made her blush. maybe because it was true. or maybe it was the panic that you might’ve actually heard him from outside.

she smoothed her sundress, quickly brushing down the fabric as she gave herself one last glance in the mirror. cheeks warm. hair in place. smile soft but not too eager. okay. 

when she finally walked down the stairs, she spotted you through the open front door. leaning against the railings in your leather jacket, talking to basil with that casual charm of yours. 

you looked—cool. your hair, your posture, your smile. it wasn’t fair. you looked like you belonged in a movie. basil nudged you, laughing about something, and for a second sophia almost turned back around just to take another breath.

then you looked up and saw her. your whole expression shifted. “soph,” you said, voice low but warm, and something in it made her freeze for a moment.

you weren’t smiling like you normally did. your gaze moved from her eyes to her lips to her sundress and then back up again. like you were taking her in all at once. she stepped out of the house, barely remembering how to walk. you tilted your head slightly. “you look…”

you didn’t finish the sentence, but your face said enough. “thank you,” sophia smiled, cheeks heating as she fiddled with the strap of her bag. “you clean up okay too.”

basil scoffed. “okay? look at her. leather jacket? hair actually tamed? she’s trying to impress.” you rolled your eyes. “shut up.” 

“don’t knock her up!” basil called out dramatically as you both started walking down the path. “bye, basil,” you said dryly, grabbing sophia’s hand for just a second to guide her past the uneven step. she nearly tripped anyway, too caught up in the feeling of your fingers against her skin. when you let go, her palm missed it immediately.

“you ready?” you asked once you reached the car, your voice soft again. different from how you spoke to basil. only for her. “yeah,” she replied, eyes shining just a little too brightly. “ready.”

the drive to school was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. the windows were slightly rolled down. music played softly from the stereo. sophia peeked at you once or twice, each time hoping you wouldn’t catch her. but you did.

and you smiled.

once you arrived, the field was already starting to fill with groups of people. string lights hung across the trees, dim but glowing. the screen wasn’t lit yet, but the projector was being set up. blankets, snacks, pillows. people were settling in.

you popped the trunk and pulled out a folded blanket and a small cooler bag. “you came prepared,” sophia said as you led her to a quieter near the back. “had to,” you shrugged, setting everything down carefully. “wasn’t sure if you’d eaten.

you laid out the picnic blanket, smoothing the corners before sitting down. sophia joined you, eyes drifting to the cooler bag. “wait,” she said, “you made sandwiches?” you avoided her eyes. “yeah. i mean. just in case you got hungry.” “you made these?” she asked again, genuinely surprised. “for me?”

you shrugged again, clearly flustered. “it’s not a big deal.” sophia reached for one of them, unwrapping the foil carefully. it smelled good. “no, it is,” she said softly, grinning. “it’s really cute.” you ducked your head, ears turning pink. “don’t say that.”

“what? it is,” she said, taking a bite. “and it’s good.”

you tried to act unfazed, but your fingers kept fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. sophia felt warm. not just from the food or the air, but from you. from the effort you put in. from the fact that you remembered she liked her bread toasted just a little. from the fact that she was here, with you, without a textbook or a group or anyone else getting in the way.

it hit her all at once. how rare this was. how special. just you and her, under the lights, and nothing else demanding your attention. you leaned back on your palms, watching the people around you start to settle down. the movie hadn’t started yet, but the energy in the air felt almost anticipatory.

sophia glanced at you again. you weren’t looking at her. but she wished you were. she didn’t know what any of this meant yet. but she knew how she felt right now. and it was… happy. unreasonably happy.

sophia couldn’t stop glancing at you.

the movie had started. drive me crazy, a film she’d only ever half-watched once on cable, but now it played on the huge projector screen. the kind with soft music and bubble fonts and girls with shiny hair and boys who suddenly realize the best thing in their life has been there all along. it felt like a cliche, and yet… here she was. on a blanket with you, under strings of dim fairy lights and the vast sky, heart threatening to beat right out of her chest.

you were leaning back on your wrists, one leg stretched out, the other bent casually. your leather jacket was still on, despite the warmth of the evening. it made you look even cooler. like the main character in a teen movie who didn’t even try to be charming. you just were. and when the screen lit up your face. those golden streaks of light dancing over your cheekbones. sophia had to physically remind herself to look away.

she was flustered. every time your arm brushed hers, she stiffened slightly. not because she didn’t like it. because she did. too much. it was impossible to ignore how close you were. how your knees would occasionally touch when you shifted. how you’d offer her little comments about the movie in a whisper only she could hear. each time you leaned closer, it felt like the air thinned around them.

sophia didn't realize how cold her hands were until yours touched them.

the movie had been playing for a while now, and most of the lawn had quieted into the soft hum of popcorn munching and screen-lit faces. she wasn’t even watching anymore. not really. her eyes were forward, but her mind was sideways—on you. the way your foot tapped gently against hers, how your knuckles occasionally bumped. your presence beside her felt too big, like it was crowding all the space in her chest, and yet she wanted to be closer. she needed it like oxygen.

your fingers brushed hers again, this time more intentionally. and then, before she could prepare, you reached for her hand and held it. gently. warmly. like it was the most natural thing in the world.

her breath caught. she didn’t look at you.

your thumb ran lightly across the back of her hand, just once. slow. curious.

“your hand’s freezing,” you whispered, voice low, careful not to disturb the fragile quiet between you.

sophia blinked. her brain stuttered. “oh. yeah. i guess i—i didn’t notice.”

you were still holding her. still rubbing soft circles, like your trying to warm her hand. then came the breeze. not strong, but sudden, slipping under her sundress and making her shoulders tense. you didn’t say anything.

you let go of her hand just for a moment, and the cold bit at your skin immediately, sharper now that you weren’t distracted by her touch. she looked up, confused, just as you slipped your arms out of your jacket. the motion was smooth. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to.

the air was cool tonight.that in-between kind of cold that settled low in your chest and made your breath curl in front of your face. the sky had turned dark, still holding onto the last traces of daylight. she shivered once, barely noticeable, but you caught it.

you shuffled closer.

your jacket, still warm from your body. draped over her shoulders. not quickly, not casually. you made sure it settled right. that the collar tucked against her neck. that the sleeves didn’t slip off.

sophia went very still. the warmth hit her first, curling around her like a second skin. then the scent. faint leather, something piney from your cologne, and something else, something she couldn’t name but had always associated with you. it wrapped around her like a memory she hadn’t let herself remember.

her fingers twitched at her sides, like she wanted to hold onto it. like she wanted to hold onto you. when she turned her head to look at you, you were already watching her.

your face was different in the low light. softer. your features drawn in shadow and the gold cast of the nearest lamp. your eyes, usually so easy to read—were darker now, unreadable. they flickered with something quieter. something closer to hope. closer to fear. you weren’t smiling. you weren’t teasing. you just looked at her.

long and soft and still.

“thanks,” sophia said quietly. her voice came out tight, breathy. she meant to sound casual, but the words caught in her throat before they even made it out. her fingers brushed the edge of your jacket, holding it closed like armor.

you didn’t reply right away. your eyes dipped, briefly, instinctively—to her mouth. then back up.

you didn’t let it linger, but she saw it. “of course,” you murmured, your voice a little rough. a little softer than she’d ever heard it. and for one long second, neither of you moved.

it was until a body dropped onto the blanket beside you guys. “hey,” came the casual voice, disrupting everything in an instant.

you turned your head, blinking. sophia flinched. and just like that, the spell broke. but she didn’t let go of your hand.

your eyes was met with soft, delicate smile with smooth, glowing skin. her eyes lingering for just a moment too long. “you’re yn, right? i’ve heard a lot about you.” said the girl with a wolfcut who just interrupted them. yn’s face softened with a smile, that casual, approachable one she always wore. “yeah, that’s me,” she replied, her voice as warm and pleasant. 

the girls gaze flicked over to sophia, and for a brief second, there was something mischievous there, something almost knowing. she didn’t acknowledge her presence, though; she just looked right back at yn with a tilt of her head. “i’ve been hearing about you from some of the other members in the music club. cant wait to get to know you better this weekend”

sophia’s jaw clenched, but she forced herself to breathe. her gaze flickered to yn, waiting for her reaction. yn was shocked then she started smiling back, polite. “oh! you’re karina?” karina nods with a charming smile on her face. 

karina's voice was light, almost flirtatious, and sophia could hear every word like a slap to the face. “im sure we’re gonna have a good time. you’re pretty involved in the music club.”

sophia's fingers curled into fists again, and she forced herself to take a deep breath. she could feel the heat rise in her chest, that simmering jealousy she couldn’t quite control, couldn’t hide. it was like the walls around her chest were closing in. she was fuming, but she had to hold it together. karina was still talking, still leaning in just a little too close to yn, but sophia couldn’t look away. it made her feel restless, uncomfortable in her own skin. she hated how karina looked at yn. hated how she seemed so effortlessly at ease with her.

“maybe we’ll get to do some more events together. you and me.” karina continued, her voice sweet like sugar, but with an edge that made sophia’s skin crawl. yn laughed lightly, more because she didn’t want to seem rude than anything else. “yeah, i guess so.”

sophia’s fists tightened again. she wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. it wasn’t like karina was doing anything wrong. but it felt like a punch to the gut every time she’d glance at her.

without thinking, sophia nudged yn’s side, the action coming out sharper than she intended. her voice was almost a whisper, but it was tight with the edge of frustration. “im cold,” she muttered, hoping it would make yn pay attention to her, if only for a moment as they were still talking about the next day.

yn blinked, caught off guard. she looked at sophia, her eyebrows knitting together slightly in confusion. for a split second, sophia thought maybe she’d gone too far. maybe it was too obvious. but then, yn smiled, her face softening, and before sophia could process what was happening, yn’s arm was around her shoulders.

it was a simple, just an arm, draped over her, the warmth of it soaking into her skin. but sophia’s breath hitched, her heart skipping a beat. it felt like the world was narrowing down to just the two of them, karina’s annoying chatter blurring out of focus. the warmth from yn’s body pressed against hers, and sophia’s mind went completely blank for a moment. the tension that had been building up inside her. the jealousy, the frustration. melted away for just a second, leaving her with nothing but a rush of warmth.

karina finally glanced down. it was brief, just a flicker of her eyes toward the arm yn had draped over sophia, but it was enough. her mouth pulled into something between a smirk and an apology. “oh,” she said, the word cutting through the air just a little too knowingly, “have i caught you two at a bad time?”

sophia stiffened, but yn didn’t flinch. “nah,” she replied, casual, as if her arm wasn’t currently setting sophia’s entire bloodstream on fire. “we were just watching.”

karina’s smirk deepened for a second before she lifted her hands in mock surrender, tone playful. “my bad. i’ll leave you guys to it.” she looked at sophia this time, and for once, actually acknowledged her. “nice jacket, by the way.” then she got up, brushing off her skirt like she’d just lost interest, and disappeared into the crowd of blankets and folding chairs.

sophia didn’t say anything for a long time. she just sat there, eyes fixed ahead like she was watching the screen, but she wasn’t. the movie might as well have been static. she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in her ears, couldn’t feel anything except yn’s arm still resting gently on her shoulders, the weight of it, the warmth of it, the casual closeness.

she was flushed all the way to her ears. she knew it. she could feel the heat crawling up her neck, her jaw tight as she tried not to let it show, tried not to make it obvious how dizzy she felt. her skin buzzed under yn’s touch. 

you shifted beside her, not moving away. just closer. like you sensed it. you could feel the way her breathing stuttered. “you good?” you asked quietly, leaning down a bit so your voice barely rose above the rustle of the crowd and the hum of the movie playing in the background.

sophia glanced at you, your face so close it made her stomach twist. your arm still around her. your eyes soft and unreadable. she blinked, then nodded a little too quickly. “yeah,” she said, her voice small and clipped. “just… wasn’t expecting her.”

you raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking back in the direction karina had gone. “karina?”

sophia didn’t answer right away. her lips were pressed tight, her fingers knotted together in her lap. “she’s annoying,” she muttered eventually, the words coming out sharp.

you blinked, surprised by her tone. “she’s not that bad.”

but that only made sophia’s jaw clench harder. not that bad.her heart stung, irrationally and stupidly, like she’d just been scratched raw. the thought of you spending hours with her tomorrow, alone, laughing like that again, her leaning in too close while you smiled and didn’t stop her—it made sophia feel sick. her thoughts spiraled.

“she clearly likes you,” sophia said flatly, eyes fixed on her lap, voice barely above a whisper. “not that you noticed.”

you tilted your head slightly, caught off guard. “what?”

“nevermind.” her tone was too bitter to continue. she hated how obvious she sounded now. she wanted to take it back, but the words were already there, suspended between you.

you didn’t say anything for a second. just looked at her. studied her, the way her shoulders were tense under your arm, the way her jaw twitched slightly when she wasn’t speaking. “are you okay?” you asked again, softer this time.

she turned to look at you finally. and the look in your eyes. concern and, maybe even something warmer. it made something in her snap. she didn’t know what possessed her. 

“i’ll come tomorrow.”

you blinked. “what?”

“to the orchestra setup. with you and karina.” her voice was firmer now, more controlled, but the edge was still there, bubbling just under the surface. “i’ll help.”

you hesitated. your brows lifted a little. “i thought you said you hate doing stuff like that.”

“i changed my mind.” she swallowed, staring right into your eyes. “it’ll be fun. right?”

and then she smiled, too wide, a little fake, but her eyes were burning. because if there was one thing she knew in that moment, it was that she could not let you and karina be alone together tomorrow. not when it felt like everything was tilting, slipping out of her hands.

you looked at her for a long second. then your lips parted, like you were going to say something, maybe call her out on it, maybe ask what this really was. but you didn’t. you just let out a soft laugh, shaking your head.

“sure,” you said finally, smile curling at the corners of your lips. “the more the merrier.” oh you were oblivious. 

the next morning sophia woke up late. she woke up with her alarm ringing and drencehd in sweat. she hurriedly got up and checked her text. "im already here where are you?" she cursed herself for not telling basil about her plans for today. if not he could've woken her up. 'useless ass brother' sophia got dropped off by basil, she was extremely late. 2 hours late to be exact.

she wanted to leave the second she entered the auditorium because of what she saw. she saw you squatting near the apron fixing some wiring. she could see some of you back muscles peeking through the white tanktop you had on. she almost passed out. 

but what made it worst was karina who was sitting on the edge of the stage. she was admiring you. your back to be specific while typing on her phone. something inside sophia lit up. she could feel herself getting angry and frustrated. 

she stomped over to where you both were. karina noticed sophia’s angry walk over. “oh you’re here?” karina said with disinterest in her voice. sophia rolled her eyes at that. you on the other hand turned around upon hearing the footsteps. a bright smile immediately took over your face.

“you’re finally here!” you said in a teasing manner. getting up from your squatting position, while wiping off your hands on your jeans. sophia got a whole view of your body and she almost shuddered. your loose jeans were making your boxers peak out. sophia was caught off guard when you immediately went to hug her. 

sophia hugged back of course while glaring at karina who was rolling her eyes at you two. sophia prayed you miss the way her face went red when you suddenly greeted her with a hug. “sorry im late” said sophia looking down, drowned with guilt. 

you patted her shoulder. she looked up at you and that stupidly adorable grin was on your face. “it’s okay! you can help finish arranging the chairs.” you pointed at the stage behind karina. 

sophia pointed at karina who was sitting on the stage idly tapping on her phone. “why isn’t she doing anything.” her tone had a hint of annoyance. 

you turned back to smile at karina. who returned it. “oh she already got started arranging the chairs.” sophia only hummed at that and got to work. walking past karina who didnt even spare a glance at the girl who was glaring at her. 

you got back to work. sophia was still embarrassed about being late in front of you (and karina). sophia kept sneaking glances at you while you’re working. watching the way your shirt rides up when you reach for something. the way your arms flex when your pushing onto the wires hard. 

sometimes between that you joined her in arranging the chairs since karina didn’t help. but she enjoyed the view of you carrying the heavy chairs for her. it made something inside her stomach swirl. 

sophia feels stupid. she’s thinking of stuff she should never imagine. she shook the thoughts away from her head as quickly as it came. 

after awhile karina leaves the auditorium to grab something from the music room. suddenly the silence wasn’t awkward anymore. it was comfortable. the scrapes of chairs and sounds of tape and clattering was calming. 

it was until you broke it. calling for sophia backstage near the curtains. “soph could you help me with this.” 

sophia glances up and sees you by the curtains, your hand tugging gently at one of the thick panels that’s gotten caught up in some tangled wiring. you’re halfway bent over, one hand braced on your thigh and the other tugging carefully at the wires. the fabric’s bunched, looped over itself, refusing to budge.

“this one’s stuck?” she asks, walking over.

“yeah,” you nod, straightening up a bit. “i need you to hold the curtain still while i pull this out. it keeps getting worse every time i try alone.”

sophia nods, stepping beside you and gripping the curtain from the side. her hands sink into the thick material, and she shifts closer to reach the tangled part. just one small step. but it’s enough to close the space between you.

“okay, now pull that bit there,” you say, gesturing toward the bundle of wire stuck behind the fold.

you both move at the same time. she lifts the curtain, you pull the wire, and something shifts under her feet.

“fuck-” the fabric jolts loose suddenly and swings inward, wrapping around both of you in a slow, heavy sweep.

sophia stumbles forward, instinctively trying to untangle herself, but her arms catch around your shoulders when you tried to stand up straight to catch her.

 “fuck,” she breathes out, eyes wide. “sorry—i didn’t mean to—” but she doesn’t pull away. She couldn’t. the curtain has fallen mostly closed around the two of you, trapping you both in this soft, dark cocoon.

she realizes how close your faces are. you’re pressed so closely together that your foreheads could touch if one of you leaned in an inch. and in the dim light, she can see every detail of your face. the way your lips part as you catch your breath. the way your eyes flicker to hers. your hand is still gripping her waist, firm and steady. she can barely hear her own thoughts over how loud her heart is beating.

a beat goes by.  all you can think about is how her lips are right there. how they’re soft and pink and shiny with the same vanilla lip balm she always replies when she’s distracted. you’ve stared at her mouth more times than you’d admit.

wondered what that lip balm tastes like. wondered what she tastes like.before you said something. you whisper, almost like a confession. “i can’t do this anymore”

before she could ask you what. you pulled her in. you kiss her.

it’s not rushed, not hesitant either. it’s warm and slow and steady, like you’ve thought about this for a long time. like you’ve needed it. your hand around her hips was clutching onto her, and she freezes at first. because you’re kissing her.

her body goes stiff, and her heart stops. but then, almost like she’s waking up from a dream, her eyes flutter closed and she kisses you back. 

the tension snaps like a rubber band. her hands tightens around your shoulders, dragging you impossibly closer to her, the curtain rustling around your hips. it’s messy, a little desperate. lips parting and clashing. her fingers dig into your shirt trying to feel you even more. she feels the way you sigh against her mouth, and it makes her dizzy.

her mind is spinning. this is happening. this is real. you’re kissing her, you want her, and she’s never wanted anything so badly in her entire life. her nose is filled with your scent. all she could think about is you. how good of a kisser you are. how she needed you–

“y/n!” 

you and sophia tear away from each other like lightning just struck between you. both of you are wide-eyed, breathless, lips red and swollen.

sophia’s still holding your arm. you’re still gripping her hip. you let go at the same time.

you blink fast, heart still thudding. you clear your throat, trying to act normal. “yeah?” your voice 

cracks slightly. you clear it again. karina’s footsteps get closer. you rush out from behind the curtain, hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, face burning.

sophia doesn’t follow immediately. she stays hidden, hand pressed over her mouth, heart racing. she can still feel your hands on her. the way your thumb had dug into her hip, the way your lips had moved against hers like you knew what she needed before she even did.

her mouth feels bruised. her skin is flushed all the way down her neck.

you kissed her.

you kissed her.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Could you do reader being super busy on valentines and thinking sweetheart!anakin forgot about it and came home upset just to see the living room decorated with valentines decor and candles then later after they eat the dinner anakin made, they cuddle and watch romcoms and reader tears up from the overwhelming love pretty pleaseeee!!!

PAIRING: sweetheart!anakin x f!reader

ANAKIN SKYWALKER doesn’t get the hype. He never has.

All week, the world has been drowning in Valentine’s Day propaganda—tacky heart-shaped balloons, overpriced bouquets, too sweet themed chocolates, desperate men running around last minute to prove their love.

It’s ridiculous. It’s performative.

If you love someone, you should show them that every day. At least that's how he was raised.

If a man really loved his girl, he should show her every single day, every single hour, every minute, every second.

And he did.

In every little thing.

When he woke up before you and made your morning coffee just the way you liked it. When he pulled you against his chest at night, tucking your head beneath his chin because he couldn’t sleep unless you were close. When he kissed your temple absentmindedly while passing behind you in the kitchen. When he memorized every tiny detail about you—the way your lips parted slightly when you focused, the way you always did a little spin when you were happy, the way you got this certain look when you were about to be stubborn.

So no, he didn’t need Valentine’s Day. But… he knew you secretly loved it.

So, here he is—pacing through the dining room, hands on his hips, eyes flicking over every last detail to make sure everything is just perfect. Because if there’s one thing Anakin Skywalker is going to do, it’s make sure you’re loved. Properly. Every damn day.

You weren’t expecting much this year. Anakin has made it very clear how he feels about Valentine’s Day. And honestly? You agreed with him.

You love how he loves you—every day, in a hundred different ways.

The way he never lets you open your own car door. The way he keeps a hand on your back when you walk through a crowd. The way he rubs your feet without you having to ask, even when he’s tired himself. How he drags most of the grocery bags, not wanting you to have the heaviest. How he knows every single little details of your life, in a good way

So no, you don’t need a big Valentine’s Day thing. You have valentine's every day, if you were being honest

So when you step through the front door and see the house bathed in candlelight—warm, flickering red wax dripping from every available surface—your breath caught in your throat, heart stopping working just for a second, eyes widening to make sure you're not dreaming.

“Ani?” you call softly, stepping inside

And then you smell it.

Rich tomato sauce, garlic, fresh basil—your favorite Italian dish. Your favorite.

You follow the scent to the dining room, and—oh.

He’s standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the table like he didn’t just turn your whole world upside down. Warm glow created by the candlelight caught in his golden curls, in the soft blue of his stupidly beautiful eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing, yet there’s still, always, something soft behind it.

He pushes off the table, moving towards you with that unfair grace of his, like he’s already got you figured out. Like he knows you’re two seconds from melting.

His hands are warm when they slide over your waist, pulling you in close—chests flush, foreheads nearly touching.

“You know how I feel about today,” he murmurs, and you nod, hands curling over his biceps.

“But.” His nose brushes yours. “You love it.”

Your heart did a flip of shy happiness

“And I love you.”

Oh. Oh.

“I love you every damn day,” he says, and then—finally—he kissed you. Slow, deep, deliberate.

Like he's proving his point.

Anakin pulled back with a grin. “C’mon,” he said, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you towards the dining table. “Made your favorite.”

Your eyes widened. Sure enough, an entire Italian feast was laid out by candlelight—fresh pasta, warm garlic bread, a bottle of your favorite wine already uncorked.

Your chest burned with love. Tears ready to spill out of your eyes

“You did all this?” you whispered.

“Course I did, baby.”

And when he pulled out your chair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before taking his own seat across from you, you realized—

Maybe he did love you a little extra today.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @nikiloveshayden @cloverina

[pricesgirl]

Mary Janes - college life

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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(T.W sexual content)

Y/N

Our dorm room is small, cluttered with the familiar debris of our lives—my neatly stacked textbooks beside Jinx’s half-finished sketches, paint-streaked papers curling at the edges, her combat boots kicked off haphazardly near the door.

The scent of simmering tomatoes, garlic, and basil thickens the air, warm and rich, curling into every corner of the space as I stir the sauce with slow, deliberate movements.

Cooking is one of the few things that calms me, that makes sense, each step precise, leading to something tangible, something good.

Jinx, of course, has no patience for it.

“Baaabe,” she drawls from behind me, her voice laced with mischief. Before I can react, I feel her arms snake around my waist, her chin resting on my shoulder. “Gimme a kiss.”

I huff out a laugh, amused but not surprised. “Jinx, I’m cooking.”

“And I’m suffering,” she whines dramatically, squeezing me tighter. “I’ve been left to starve and wither away while my beautiful, heartless girlfriend ignores me.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “You ate an entire bag of chips fifteen minutes ago.”

“That was merely an appetizer,” she says, pressing an exaggeratedly loud smooch to my cheek. “Now c’mon, let me kiss you properly.”

I shake my head, trying to suppress my laughter as I stir the sauce. “Jinx, if you want dinner to be edible, you need to let me focus.”

She groans but doesn’t let go. If anything, she presses closer, her hands slipping under my sweater, palms warm against my stomach. “Multitask, toots.”

I sigh, feigning exasperation, but I tilt my head slightly, allowing her to press a kiss just below my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine, and I swear she grins against my skin, knowing exactly what she’s doing.

“Jinx,” I warn, voice softer now.

“Mmm?” She kisses along my jaw, working her way to my lips, teasing.

I finally turn my head and give in, capturing her mouth in a lingering kiss. She hums in satisfaction, deepening it slightly, her fingers flexing against my skin as if she wants to pull me away from the stove entirely.

The sauce bubbles behind me, and I force myself to pull away with a small gasp. “If I burn this, you’re eating plain pasta.”

Jinx pouts but lets me go, flopping onto the counter instead, swinging her legs. “Fine. But only because I love you. And also because I want this pasta.”

I shake my head, stirring the sauce as I steal a glance at her. She’s watching me, chin resting in her palm, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

“You’re impossible,” I mutter, but there’s no bite to it.

Jinx just grins, reaching over to steal a cherry tomato from the cutting board, popping it into her mouth with an exaggerated moan. “Mmm. Damn, babe, you should cook for me all the time.”

I arch a brow. “I already do.”

“Exactly,” she says through a mouthful of tomato, kicking her legs lazily. “And that’s why I’m so obsessed with you. You feed me, you’re hot, and you kiss me even when you pretend you don’t wanna. What more could a girl ask for?”

I huff a laugh, turning back to the stove. The sauce is thickening just the way I like it, the scent of garlic and herbs filling the room. Domesticity was never something I thought I’d crave, but standing here with Jinx whining at me from the counter, stealing kisses while I cook, it feels like the safest place in the world.

She watches me for a moment longer before suddenly sliding off the counter and wrapping herself around me again, arms slung around my shoulders this time, chin hooked over my other side.

“I do love you, though,” she murmurs, quieter now, and something about the way she says it makes my breath catch.

I press my lips together, stirring the sauce slower, grounding myself in the warmth of her body against mine. “I know,” I say, softer. “I love you too.”

She exhales against my neck, squeezing me just a little tighter before she rocks back on her heels, grinning again. “Okay, now feed me.”

I snort. “Set the table.”

She groans but listens, moving to grab the plates, grumbling under her breath about free labor and how a hot girlfriend should come with unlimited benefits, but I catch the small, satisfied smile on her lips.

And as I drain the pasta, I can’t help but think: this—this tiny dorm, this sauce bubbling on the stove, Jinx making a mess of everything she touches—this is happiness.

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The classroom hums with the quiet symphony of academia—pages turning, pens scratching, the low murmur of discussion. Sunlight drapes itself lazily across the wooden desks, golden and warm, as if the whole world outside has slowed to a gentle lull. It’s the kind of environment I could lose myself in, let the weight of words settle over me like a well-worn blanket.

But then there’s Jinx.

My beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend who may thrive in other settings, but does not belong in this one.

She lounges beside me with all the restless energy of a storm trapped in a bottle, her chair tipped back on two legs, defying balance like she defies everything else. Her book lies abandoned, open but upside down, as if the mere suggestion of engagement is an insult. A pen spins between her fingers, flicking dangerously fast, like she’s moments from launching it across the room just to see what happens.

I nudge her thigh under the desk. A silent command: Behave.

She exhales, long and suffering, before dipping her head toward me, voice a whisper that still manages to curl around my spine like smoke.

"I'm dying here, toots."

I suppress a sigh, keeping my eyes locked on the professor. "Maybe if you actually read—"

"I did." The words brush against the shell of my ear, featherlight, teasing. "It sucked."

I fight the shiver that threatens to betray me. "It’s a classic."

"It’s dull," she counters, tilting her chair back further, balancing on pure arrogance. "Tell me again why I’m here?"

I glance at her, unimpressed.

She grins. "Right. Because you wanted to take it."

I shake my head and turn back to my notes, hoping she’ll settle, but Jinx is not the kind of girl who settles.

She finds her own amusements. Her fingers drum against the desk, and then she’s reaching for my notebook, scrawling something in the margins—little stick figures with swords, mid-duel, one of them inevitably losing a limb.

I don’t stop her.

It's cute.

She’s cute.

The way her nose scrunches in concentration, the tip of her tongue peeking out just slightly as she perfects the expression on a doomed stick figure’s face—absolute agony, an exaggerated X for eyes.

I press my lips together, hiding my smile.

Jinx notices anyway. Of course she does.

“You’re cute,” she murmurs, voice dipping just for me, low and teasing. I don’t have to look to know she’s watching me, chin propped in her palm, eyes half-lidded, brimming with that lazy sort of affection she never bothers to hide.

I shake my head, pretending to focus on the lecture, but it’s useless. She’s in my orbit, in my veins, pulling me toward her like gravity, inevitable.

Her foot nudges mine under the desk. A silent request. A test.

I nudge back.

Jinx hums, pleased, and my heart stutters at the sound. It should be embarrassing how easily she affects me, how a single touch, a single glance, can turn my carefully built composure into something fragile, pliant, hers.

But I don’t mind.

Her pinkie brushes against my wrist where my hand rests on the desk, featherlight, deliberate.

I exhale slowly, my body betraying me, leaning just slightly into the warmth of her touch.

She grins like she’s won something. Maybe she has.

“God, you like me,” she whispers, smug as anything.

I roll my eyes, flipping to a new page in my notes just to not look at her. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she singsongs, her pinkie hooking around mine now, holding it there, gentle but insistent.

I let her.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵

Jinx

The water is hot—almost scalding—but I like it that way.

Makes my skin tingle, makes me feel alive.

Not that I need much help with that right now, because Y/N is right there, all slick and soft and just—fuck.

I’m trying to behave. I am.

But she’s standing under the spray like some goddess carved outta marble, all curves and warm skin, water dripping from her hair, rolling down her tits in a way that should be illegal.

My hands twitch. My brain short-circuits.

“You’re staring,” she says, like she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing to me.

“No shit,” I shoot back, voice rough. “You look like something outta my wet dreams.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s color creeping up her neck, and oh, I love that.

I grin, stepping in closer, eating up the space between us until my tits brush hers and my hands find her waist.

Wet, warm, mine.

“Jinx,” she warns, but her voice is all breath and anticipation, and yeah, I know that tone.

“What?” I purr, innocent as hell. “Just trying to get clean, babe.”

She scoffs. “You’re not even using soap.”

“Oh? You want me to lather up?” I grab the body wash off the shelf, pop the cap, and let the gel drip between us, sliding down our stomachs, over our thighs. Then I press closer, smearing it between us with a slow, deliberate grind of my hips.

Y/N gasps. I smirk.

She sways, just a little, like she’s caught between telling me off and giving in.

I know that hesitation, the way her breath hitches, the way her fingers curl slightly against my skin like she’s thinking about pulling me closer.

I don’t give her the chance to decide.

I press forward, slow and deliberate, letting the slick heat of our bodies slip together under the water.

My hands skate up her ribs, thumbs grazing the soft underside of her tits, teasing, not quite touching. She shivers.

“You’re insufferable,” she mutters, but her hands betray her, trailing down my waist, gripping my hips. Holding me there.

“Mmhmm.” I tilt my head, letting my lips graze her neck. “And yet, here we are.”

She exhales sharply as I nip at her pulse, just enough to make her whimper, just enough to make her squirm.

My fingers trail lower, over the curve of her ass, digging in just enough to make her press forward.

I groan at the friction, the slip of her against me, so fucking warm, so fucking perfect.

I drag my lips lower, over the delicate curve of her throat, tasting the heat of her skin under the rush of steam.

She shudders, her fingers twitching against my hips like she’s trying to hold herself back—like she could.

“Jinx—” she breathes, my name slipping from her lips, half a warning, half a plea.

I grin against her collarbone, biting down just enough to make her gasp before I soothe the mark with my tongue.

Fuck, she’s sensitive. I can feel her pulse thrumming, quick and desperate, and it makes something inside me ache.

“Relax, toots,” I murmur, dragging my mouth lower, trailing kisses down the slope of her chest. “I’ll make it good for you.”

She exhales sharply as my lips wrap around her nipple, sucking just hard enough to make her arch.

Her hands fly to my hair, fingers tangling, tugging—not pushing me away, pulling me closer.

“Jinx,” she whimpers, and fuck, I could die happy hearing her like this.

I lap at her, slow, teasing, my free hand sliding down her stomach, fingers slipping lower, between her thighs. The heat of her makes me dizzy, and I groan against her skin, pressing my thigh between hers, feeling the way she instinctively grinds down against me.

“So needy,” I tease, my voice wrecked, my fingers already slick as I drag them over her clit, feeling the way she jolts, melts under me. “I should make you beg, huh?”

Her hips jerk, chasing the friction, and my smirk turns feral.

“Or,” I murmur, nipping at the sensitive skin of her ribs, lowering myself to my knees, hands gripping her thighs, spreading her open—

“I could just eat you up.”

I tilt my head back, grinning up at her, drinking in the way she looks above me—lips parted, chest rising and falling, pupils blown wide with need.

"Jinx," she whimpers, like she’s caught between resistance and surrender, and I grin, slow and wicked.

"Yeah, babe?" I tease, breath ghosting against the soft heat between her thighs.

My fingers dig into her hips, pulling her forward, making sure she feels everything—the anticipation, the need, the way my mouth hovers just shy of where she wants me.

She makes a frustrated noise, but when I finally lick into her—long and slow, savoring the way she pulses against my tongue—it cuts off into a sharp, shaking moan.

My tongue finds her clit, flicking quick and mean just to hear the sound she makes—half gasp, half moan, her body jolting against the shower wall.

I grin, satisfaction curling through me, and then I really go in, lips wrapping around the swollen bud, sucking, devouring her like I’ve been starving.

Y/N shatters.

Her whole body jerks, hips rolling forward, desperate, needy. “Jinx,” she sobs, voice breaking, and I groan against her, the sound vibrating through her as I push her further, further—

I drag my tongue through her folds, fucking tasting her, feeling how slick, how warm, how perfect she is.

I can barely hold her still, her hands yanking at my hair, her thighs trembling around my head, but I wouldn’t stop for anything.

Not when she sounds this good. Not when she’s fucking falling apart for me.

I slip two fingers inside her, curling up, pressing just right as I suck on her clit, and fuck, that’s it—she cries out, voice breaking as she crashes, pulsing around my fingers, hips stuttering as pleasure rips through her, her whole body shaking against my tongue.

I don’t stop.

Not until she’s gasping, overstimulated, trying to push me away—but even then, I give one last slow lick, savoring the way she shudders, the way she whines—

Then I pull back, licking my lips, grinning up at her.

“Damn, toots.” My voice is wrecked. “You taste so fucking good.”

Y/N is still trembling when she grabs at me, hands desperate, pulling me up—her breath still uneven, her lips parted, her body still shivering from what I just did to her.

But she’s hungry now, I can see it in her eyes, that sharp focus, that little bit of determination that always drives me wild.

"Your turn," she breathes, voice wrecked, needy.

Oh, fuck yes.

Her hands find my waist, dragging me against her, her mouth crashing onto mine, all teeth and heat, her tongue sliding against mine, tasting herself on my lips.

I groan into it, letting her push me back, letting her take what she wants.

She doesn’t waste time.

God, I love her.

Her fingers trail down, over the slick curve of my ass, gripping hard enough to make my hips jolt against hers. “Turn around,” she murmurs against my lips, and holy shit, she’s serious.

I smirk, cocky, teasing. “Bossy, huh?”

She just gives me a look, that sweet little thing she does when she’s pretending to be innocent but is actually planning to ruin me.

And fuck, I let her, because yes please.

I spin, pressing my hands against the cool tile, arching just a little because I know she loves it.

She hums, satisfied, her hands smoothing over my back, down to my hips, then—

Her mouth is everywhere.

A sharp bite to my shoulder, a soothing lick down my spine. Her nails dragging slow, teasing down my sides.

Then she kneels, hands gripping my thighs, spreading me, her breath hot against my skin.

“Y/N—” My voice cracks, cuts off when I feel her tongue, soft and teasing, a slow, lazy flick over my clit.

Oh, fuck.

I jerk against the wall, my legs already shaky, but she holds me steady, her grip firm as she does it again, slower, deeper.

“Shit,” I gasp, my forehead pressing against the tile, melting under her mouth.

She’s thorough, so fucking precise, her tongue moving in long, torturous strokes, her lips wrapping around my clit with a soft, maddening suck.

I whimper.

And she moans against me, like she’s savoring it, like she loves this, loves tasting me, making me fall apart.

My knees almost buckle. “F-Fuck, babe, keep going—”

She does.

I don’t last long. Of course, I don’t.

Not with her, not with her tongue and her mouth and her fucking perfect fingers sliding inside me, curling just right, stroking that spot that has me choking on a moan, gripping at the shower wall like it’s the only thing keeping me standing.

The pressure coils tight, burning, growing, my whole body tightening—

“Y/N, I’m—”

I shatter.

Pleasure crashes through me like an electric shock, sharp, overwhelming, my whole body trembling as I cry out, my back arching, hips jerking, grinding against her tongue as she drags me through it.

It’s too much—perfect, ruinous.

I gasp, fingers clawing uselessly at the tile, my legs weak, my mind blank, only sensation left. Only her left.

Y/N hums against me, slow and satisfied, kissing the inside of my thigh like she owns me. Like she knows I’m hers.

And fuck, I am.

Y/N presses one last, smug kiss to my thigh before finally—finally—pulling back, looking up at me with that maddeningly sweet expression, like she hasn’t just wrecked me against the shower wall.

Her lips are kiss-swollen, her cheeks flushed, and I want her again already.

But then she straightens, reaching past me for the shampoo like we’re actually here to bathe and not just fuck against every possible surface.

“C’mere,” she murmurs, and I barely have time to process before she’s lathering up her hands and running them through my hair, her fingers massaging slow, soothing circles against my scalp.

It sends a different kind of shiver through me—one that has nothing to do with heat and everything to do with the way she touches me, like she actually gives a damn.

I sigh, leaning into her, letting my forehead rest against her shoulder as her nails rake gently over my scalp. It’s quiet now, save for the patter of water and the occasional deep breath, and I can feel myself softening into it.

“You good?” she asks after a while, voice quiet, careful.

I hum, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. “Yeah. Just—like this.”

She smiles against my temple, rinsing the suds from my hair. “Me too.”

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The first thing I feel is warmth, the kind that clings to sleep-heavy limbs and tangled sheets. I stir only because I have to—because the sun creeps in through the blinds, because Y/N shifts beside me, stretching with a soft, content sigh.

I crack an eye open. She’s still mostly asleep, curled on her side, face half-buried in the pillow, hair a mess. Gorgeous. Unfair. Mine.

Her lashes flutter slightly, catching the gold of the morning light, casting delicate shadows over her cheeks.

Her lips, soft and a little swollen from last night, part slightly with each slow, steady breath. She looks untouched by the world—just warmth and sleep, all wrapped up in the sheets we twisted together.

The curve of her bare shoulder peeks from beneath the blankets, smooth and inviting, the kind of sight that makes my stomach clench in ways I don’t fully understand.

My fingers itch to trace the slope of her spine, to map out every inch of her skin again like it’s something sacred.

She’s always beautiful, but like this—relaxed, unguarded, so completely mine—it does something to me.

Something deep, something dizzying. My chest tightens, and I can’t stop myself from leaning in, pressing the lightest kiss to her shoulder.

She stirs, murmuring something incoherent, and instinctively reaches for me, fingers curling against my side, warm and seeking.

I grin against her skin, something stupidly soft blooming in my chest. Even asleep, she reaches for me—like it’s instinct, like I’m supposed to be here.

Her body shifts, stretching again, and the sheets slip lower, revealing more of her back, the gentle curve of her waist.

My fingers trail over her skin, barely there, just enough to feel the warmth of her, the steady rise and fall of her breathing. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this—to her, like this.

The morning light spills over her, catching in her hair, making it glow. Strands stick up in odd directions, a little wild, a little perfect.

Her brow twitches like she’s about to wake fully, and I watch, transfixed, waiting for those eyes to flutter open, for that sleepy, slow smile she always gives me first thing in the morning.

And then it happens—she blinks, groggy, lashes fluttering as she focuses on me, and for a moment, it’s like she’s still caught in the dream. Then she smiles, soft and small and just for me.

“Morning,” she whispers, voice thick with sleep.

I smirk, running my fingers along her ribs, making her squirm. “Mornin’, gorgeous.”

She groans, burying her face in the pillow. “Too early for your bullshit.”

I laugh, hooking my leg over hers, pressing my face into the crook of her neck. “Too bad, babe. You signed up for this.”

She sighs, but I can feel her grinning. “Yeah,” she mutters, letting her fingers trace idle circles against my side. “I did.”

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Y/N

The sun spills through our dorm window, casting a golden hue over the scattered textbooks and papers that clutter the small desk. I sit cross-legged on the bed, the pages of a history book open in front of me, but my thoughts drift inevitably drawn to Jinx.

She reclines against the wall, one leg draped casually over the other, chin resting on her knee as she scrolls through her phone, her expression a blend of mischief and effortless charm.

“Y/N, this is literally the most boring thing ever,” she declares, her voice laced with playful teasing. I glance up, and my breath catches at the sight of her—wild blue hair framing her face, those bright eyes sparkling with a challenge.

“It’s important,” I reply, trying to keep my tone serious, but a smile dances on my lips. “We need to be prepared for the exam next week.”

Jinx rolls her eyes dramatically, a mock pout forming on her lips. “But it’s so much more fun to get distracted by me.” She stretches, arms reaching high above her head, her tank top riding up just enough to expose a sliver of her soft skin, and my heart races in response.

“Just a little break?” she presses, tilting her head in that way that makes my heart flutter.

“Just a little longer,” I say, trying to keep my resolve, but the playful glint in her eyes is hard to resist.

She leans closer, propping her chin on her hand, the corners of her mouth curving up mischievously. “C’mon, Y/N. You know I’m way more interesting than whatever this is.” Her fingers dance across the table, teasingly brushing against my arm, and the warmth of her touch sends a shiver down my spine.

I clear my throat, attempting to refocus. “We have to at least make some progress.” But I can feel my resolve wavering as her presence envelops me, intoxicating and electric.

“Progress can wait,” she whispers, her voice sultry and low. “What’s the point of studying if I can’t have a little fun with my beautiful girlfriend?”

That does it. I can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up, escaping my lips before I can catch it. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Only because you love it,” she replies, her tone teasing yet earnest. The confidence she exudes is magnetic, drawing me closer.

I finally set my notes aside, heart racing as I lean into her, our faces mere inches apart. “Okay, fine. A quick break.”

Jinx’s eyes light up like I just handed her a victory. “Yes! That’s the spirit!” She closes the distance between us, and before I can blink, her lips are on mine, warm and inviting.

The kiss starts off slow, an exploration of warmth and softness. I can feel the tension of the day slipping away as we sink into each other, the world outside fading into a distant hum. Her hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer, and I melt into her, feeling the familiar rush of desire mixed with affection.

My fingers tangle in her hair, and I tilt my head, deepening the kiss as she responds with a soft hum, her lips moving against mine with a sweet urgency. It’s a delicious distraction, and I know I should pull back, but the way she kisses me—fierce yet tender—makes it impossible to think of anything else.

Time becomes irrelevant as we lose ourselves in this moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth. The outside world melts away, leaving just the two of us, lost in the rhythm of our hearts and the dance of our lips. Her hands slide up my back, fingers tracing lazy patterns, igniting a warmth that spreads through me, making every part of my being hum with desire.

Eventually, we pull away, breathless, foreheads resting together, the air between us crackling with unspoken affection. I can’t help but smile at her, my heart full, the weight of the world momentarily forgotten.

“I guess we should actually study now,” I whisper, teasingly.

Jinx smirks, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Or we could just keep kissing. I mean, it’s a valid form of study, right?”

I laugh softly, shaking my head, knowing that in this moment, we’re exactly where we’re meant to be—wrapped up in our little bubble of love and light.

“Maybe just one more kiss,” I concede, and she beams, leaning in to press her lips against mine once more. It’s soft and lingering, a promise of everything that lies ahead for us.

As we finally pull apart, I feel a warmth settle in my chest, a reassurance that no matter how chaotic life may get, we’ll always find our way back to each other. With a last playful nudge, Jinx steals a quick kiss before she leans back, a satisfied grin plastered on her face.

“Okay, now we can study,” she declares, and I can’t help but chuckle at her playful defiance.

With our hearts still racing and smiles lingering, we turn back to the books, ready to face whatever comes next together, knowing that even in the mundane, we’ll always have each other.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: hiii, so this is just a small one shot (if it does well i may continue) but i hope you like the small college life and domestic love they have <3

please like and reblog!

Oh and hi If you've made it to the end and like timebomb as a ship go check out my fic Are we Still friends?

[arvensimp]

your father should know, pt. 4

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x fem!reader, nsfw content (in pt. 1), pregnancy (pts. 1, 2, & 2.5), angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1][part 2][part 2.5][part 3]

I'M HERE AGAIN THANKS FOR THE WAIT. SORRY ABOUT BEING THE WAY I AM LMAO please enjoy the next installment. it's not beta'd i'm out here livin like larry

~

[Group Chat: Team Star? More Like, Time To Go To HR AmIRight???]

WalkWalkFashionBaby: hey @ ParadoxChamp is this your man?

WalkWalkFashionBaby: [sent a photo]

[Image description: A man with wavy, longish ash blond and light brown hair, accompanied by a Mabosstiff, walking down the streets of Mesagoza. His hands are in his pockets, and he seems to be smiling.]

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: ?????????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: !!!!!!!?!

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yo wtf 

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: first of all that deadbeat isnt her man ortega

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: second

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: yea uh

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: @ paradoxchamp did you know he was back in town???????

CassiopeiaYamahaSteinway: third @ giacomo4pm momo if you don't change our nicknames in this chat back to normal I will absolutely dox you (again) and then change them back myself

Giacomo4pm: Can do, will do.

Giacomo4pm: Also, yo, damn, what's he doing back? I thought he fled the country or whatever.

--

Rika: so the sperm donor's here. Just came up the hill asking for you. Want me to send him packing?

Rika: yeah u do

Rika: well... I do.

Rika: also unrelated, holy sHIT, man's genes are strong. It's like I'm looking into a time machine for Basil's future.

Rika: except, you know. Basil will be way cooler and more handsome with your genes mixed in.

Rika: ❤️

Rika: plus no shitty facial hair.

Rika: or better facial hair.

Rika: anyway, I'm gonna eviscerate him.

Rika: love you. ❤️

--

You had been in Area Zero, gathering information on moth pokemon for Jacq when the director called, his usually placid voice laced with an edge of steel.

"Basil's father just stopped by." He says without preamble.

Your heart sinks, and you nearly lose your grip on Raidon, only barely managing to stay upright and drag the pokemon to a halt.

"His what?" You splutter, changing the phone to your other ear, as if you hadn't heard correctly.

"His father." The director repeats. "I know we have not...explicitly discussed Basil's paternity, but, well," He tsks lightly. "He showed up to speak to me."

Your head is filled with tarountula webbing. You feel your hearing go fuzzy, but somehow your hands direct Raidon up and toward the closest lab station. Out, out, out. Back to the school. Back to Basil, back to--

"I'm on my way to the entrance to Area Zero now." Clavell continues when you don't reply after a few moments. "I'll meet you there with Basil."

"What did he want?" You finally ask as you enter the station.

"I didn't give him the opportunity to chitchat."

You hum. "One second, Sir." You step into the transport pad.

A moment later, and Clavell is right in front of you, Basil tucked safely in his stroller, looking just as he did when you dropped him off this morning, save for his hair looking a little...off. You disregard it.

"Thank you so much." You sigh, hanging up the phone as Clavell gives you a sad sort of smile.

"Anything for you two." He says.

You kneel and try to fluff up your son's hair, but it has dried all crunchy from whatever happened during the day. He's getting a bath later, so you don't fret over it and just smile warmly to him, trying not to let your panic show.

"Ready to go home, sweet thing?" You ask him.

Basil nods, reaching with little hands for yours in his hair. "Mhmm!" He nods. "Ahso, Mama! I saw a big buddy! A big, BIG buddy!"

Clavell clears his throat and provides some context. "Mabosstiff said hello."

You look up to the director, knowing exactly which Mabosstiff he must mean. "Oh? Mabosstiff! That's...that's so great!" If your register is maybe just a touch too high, your smile too tight, it's only to maintain face in front of the boy to whom you turn back. "Were you kind? Remember how we always wanna be nice to new pokemon, yeah?"

"Uh-huh, uh-huh! He gived me a kisses! A lotsa kisses!"

So that's the crunch in his hair.

Oh, Mabosstiff...

"That's my sweet boy." You sigh, ruffling the mess before standing again to face the director.

"Thanks again. I'm gonna..." Another long exhale. "I'm gonna get us home."

Clavell nods. "You know how to reach me if you need something. And... Well, if you want me to intercede on your behalf, I'm happy to have words." He says stoically. "At times I felt I was the closest thing..." He gestures with his head outward toward the school. "He had to a parent in his life... I..." It's his turn to sigh. "I don't understand what happened there. How he could do what his own parents did to him? I'm sorry. If it's any consolation."

Your heart squeezes, and you distract yourself from the feeling by digging your nails into the soft foam of the handles of Basil's stroller. "Don't be. He made his choice, y'know?" You try to smile, but it's shaky. "He deserves to have the life he wants."

"He deserves a kick in the pants." Clavell responds. "Not that I'm an advocate for corporal punishment..." He adjusts his glasses in that grandfatherly way.

You laugh.

"Well, if he sticks around long enough, maybe you'll get a chance."

You hope he doesn't stick around.

Or...do you?

Do you even want to see him?

Either way, you don't want to linger on it in the lab.

"I'm gonna take this little one home."

Clavell nods. "Until later."

And then you're calling a cab to get back to your place, and Clavell is on his way back to the office.

While you're in the cab, you check your messages and sigh. Seems like Ortega caught a glimpse of Arven, and Rika is...fucking with him in some way or another.

You ignore your old classmates and opt to just text Rika.

Me: Got Basil from Clavell and we're on our way home rn/

Me: Love you too ofc 💖💖

A minute or so later, your phone buzzes. Rika again.

Rika: he's gone now

Rika: I put the fear of arceus in him if i do say so myself

You roll your eyes, smiling wryly. By now the cab is slowly descending to the space just outside your home, so you pocket the device and maneuver Basil in his stroller out of the cramped space and into the house.

Once he's unbuckled from his seat, he's bouncing around and grabbing at the attached bag, the one containing Buddy's pokeball, asking in broken syllables if they can play. 

It isn't a huge deal to let the pup out of the ball to play, so you hand it over to Basil, reminding him how to behave with his friend. At the same time, you also release Skeledirge to keep a watchful eye over the pair for a moment.

In the weeks since the Raisins Incident, as you've called it, you've come to the realization that your team can be of some assistance to you when you need a moment to yourself, when you're overwhelmed. Obviously Skeledirge isn't a parent. Neither is Raidon or Tinkaton or Screamtail or anyone else, but Skeledirge is smart enough to keep them safe for the precious seconds you need to breathe.

So you let the three alone in the living room and retire to your bedroom for a moment to collapse on the bed and gather your thoughts. You only need a few seconds. Just a few seconds of Mama time...just a few.

There's a sound at your open door as Basil toddles in, two pokemon in tow.

"Mama... Hungy?" He asks, clenching his shirt in tiny balled fists.

"Oh, sweetness..." You sigh, leaning down to pick him up and seat him securely on your lap. "You're hungry?" You press your face into his head, expecting its usual downy softness and the comfort of your child's scent, only to be met with that uncomfortable crunch of dried Mabosstiff slobber. Out of Basil's line of sight, your nose crinkles. "Let's see what we've got in the kitchen, yeah?"

"Toast? Toast 'n jellies?" He asks hopefully.

"I think we could do that, my littlest..." You respond with a smile, hefting your boy onto your hip as you trudge into the kitchen.

Of course, it would be just your luck that you're entirely out of oran jelly, the only jelly that Basil will eat right now. Thank you, developing taste buds and picky eating...

Maybe he won't notice if you try to give him pinap jelly instead this once?

You prepare his plate, the toast lovingly cut into four triangles, and you give him his sippy cup as well, but Basil only stares down unhappily at the food.

"Jellies?" He asks, his tiny button nose wrinkling.

"Yeah, Baby, I made you toast and jelly." Your heart clenches, anxiety rising, but you try to keep your voice chipper.

"Nuh-uh!" He insists, pushing the plate away.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We don't have the usual jelly. Do you wanna try this instead?"

Your son looks at you with wide eyes, rapidly filling with tears. His lower lip wobbles, and his brow furrows angrily. Times like these it's almost crazy how much he looks like...

No, focus!

"It's good, I promise. Wanna see? Mama will have some." You take a bite of one of the triangles and make a show of smiling. "Mmm! So yummy! It's really tasty!"

"No!" Basils yells in response, his tiny tears now falling. Hangry isn't a good look on the little guy.

"Ahhh, we gotta get you something to eat, huh, bud."

"Jellies!" He blubbers, only barely understandable through his tantrum. Buddy the Maschiff jumps up, placing his front paws on Basil's feet, trying to get at the food, and Basil complies, shoving it down to the pup.

You sigh. "Alright."

Buddy re-enters his ball, still chewing the bread, and you take Basil from his high chair, depositing him in his stroller.

"We'll go to the market and get your good jelly, okay? Super duper fast, then we'll come home and have a feast."

Basil is still crying, but the promise of his good jelly seems to placate him somewhat.

It'll be fine anyway. The market is only a short walk from your apartment building, and you'll only be out for a few minutes. 

The journey there is easy. Basil's stroller is one of those fancy transforming models that's great for all kinds of terrain while also being pretty light. It helps that the market is all outdoors, too. Less helpful is the fact that the stalls are fairly narrowly placed beside one another. At least it feels that way with all the people around, but it isn't overly cumbersome to navigate.

"Jellies!" Basil starts to whine as you approach the stall that he's come to learn has his favorite snack. He starts making grabby hands towards the jars along the table, and you attempt to quietly stop him.

"Yup! They've got your jelly here. Once I pay, you can hold the jar, if you like. Sound good?"

"I pick, I pick!" Basil insists, arching his tiny body as best he can away from the stroller's restraining buckle.

"Hey now," You press a soft but firm hand against him, guiding him back to his seat. "I'll let you pick, but you have to be polite. Say please and thank you to the salesperson, kay?"

Your son huffs, squirming a bit more before collapsing against the seat. "I be good. I good." He grumbles, and you're finally able to unbuckle him and take him up in your arms.

"Okay now. Can you ask for what you want?" You give the salesperson a thankful smile as you speak to Basil. They seem willing to be patient with your little one.

"Jellies!!!" He cries gleefully.

"Jellies, what, bud?"

"Jellies, pease!!!"

"There you go... We're gonna get some oran berry jelly." You tell the salesperson, already reaching into your bag with the hand that isn't carrying Basil. "Remember, these are glass, so you gotta hold it gently."

Basil carefully (or as carefully as a nearly-two year old can) chooses a bright blue jar, holding it in both of his hands.

Gently, so as not to jostle Basil enough that he drops his prize, you rearrange him on your hip, freeing an arm to reach into your bag, so you can pay the shop keeper. 

That's when you hear it. Not particularly loud compared to the hum of the crowd, but clear as day anyway.

The sound of your name being called gives you pause. You look around. It's not uncommon for you to be recognized, but you're already on edge. Hopefully it's just a fan or something?

–

You heard him. From the way you stopped and looked around, hiking the kid up just a bit higher on your hip as you distractedly tried to find the source of his voice, it was obvious.

It isn't an overly crowded market, but there are definitely enough people milling around that quick travel isn't really feasible from where he stands, particularly if he wants to get closer.

He calls your name again, louder this time. Before it had almost been breathless, filled with surprise, hurt, delight, just a tumultuous storm of emotions tearing through his stomach at the sight of you, the sight of his little carbon copy in your arms. Now he's really trying to get your attention.

You pinpoint him, and Arven waves, his bulky form helping to differentiate him from the rest of the crowd.

He... He can't read your face. You look like a deerling caught in Flash. He watches as you quickly shuffle, taking your boy (his boy?) away. Are... Are you for real fleeing from him? He calls your name again, trying to move closer to your retreating form, but it's no use. He makes it to the stall where you were before. He's positive of it because you left the stroller behind, and judging by the yelling from the salesperson, you made off with some product without paying. It's a no-brainer for him to lay down the cash needed, assuaging the anger of the clerk. Arven also grabs the stroller, giving a nervous laugh about how forgetful you must be before he starts trekking with it in the direction that you fled.

Except. He quickly realizes that's not really gonna get him anywhere. He has no idea where you live. Yeah, he knows where you used to live, almost 3 years ago, but that was basically a shoebox, a place to store your supplies while out and about as a champ. No way you're there still. Not with a kid. Right?

He eventually takes a seat on a bench close to the market, keeping the stroller next to him. You've gotta come back for it soon, right? Even then though, he has no idea how long it might take you to come back. 

Once again, Arven desperately wishes you hadn't blocked him way back when. He pulls out his phone, hoping to shoot you a text, on the off-chance that maybe you unblocked him at some point maybe?

Me: Hi, Buddy!

is all he types before seeing the tell-tale red messaging, showing that the number is indeed still blocked. Ugh.

Fuck, maybe...maybe he could use a pay phone or something? Just to tell you where your stroller is. But are there even any pay phones anymore?

As it turns out, they do still exist! There's one just on the edge of the market, so Arven makes his way over, pulling out his phone to copy your number once he's in the booth.

Except.

That's not a Paldean area code he sees. It's Kalosian. Yes, it's your name as the contact, and it's your final, nasty message to him there in the texts, but....it's not your number. There's not even a call history that goes back that far for him to try and grab the number that he just can't seem to remember entirely. He used to have it memorized, once upon a time, the two of you having been the other's emergency contact for so long, so he knows he's not crazy. That number...

He realizes on a second glance that the number is affiliated with Bon Applintit. It's got the same starting numbers after the area code.

What the hell happened to--

"Arven!!!!" The cry of his name startles him out of the thought, but he tucks it away for later. There's something very, very off going on, beyond the kid and everything. Which also??? Kinda absolutely bonkers. He's not gonna lie to himself. He also can't think too hard about it.

"Arven!" Nemona pulls him from that dizzying train of thought, as well as the phone booth. "I've been sent to just, uh...grab this from you..." She tells him, awkwardly trying to work her way around him to grab at the stroller's handlebars. "Ya know... Mama and Basil need it and all." She laughs a bit uncomfortably, continuing her attempt to pry the pram from him.

"Basil?" He says out loud, the name punching him harder than any Hitmonchan. His fists clench tighter around the bars.

Nemona slaps a hand over her mouth, allowing Arven to angle the stroller away from her. "Were you not supposed to know? Ah, gosh darn it!"

"I mean--!" He starts defensively. "I guess?! I never knew about...about any of this!" He gesticulates wildly. "When was anyone gonna tell me about Basil, huh? What the hell, Nemona!?"

She gives him a strange look, her lips pursed and brows quirked. "You... You really had no idea?" She crosses her arms, studying Arven's expression. "Hold on."

Nemona takes out her phone and starts texting. Arven does his absolute best to be patient, but with every passing second he's growing more agitated. 

"Okay, listen! Someone has GOT to tell me what's going on!" He eventually bursts. "Who IS this kid? Why does she have him? Why does... I mean, why does the kid look like me? Everyone's been treating me like shit since I got here, and none of it makes any goddamn sense! If anyone cares to hear MY side of the story, she blocked ME! And to my knowledge it was just over a few missed calls! I thought she was just overreacting! I had no idea about any of this!" His anger over it all, over getting shunned by his friends years ago, over Clavell’s insults, comparing him to his father, it all bubbles over, and he’s letting it out on Nemona. 

She hushes him with a sound and a not-so-placating finger, not bothering to even look up as she texts with a single thumb. "Hold on, hold on, hold on..." The patronizing nature of it all pulls a huff from Arven, whose grip on the handles of the strollers is so strong his knuckles go white.

His friend locks the screen and looks back to him. Her gaze is steady and serious, in stark contrast to her typical jovial self.

"Okay. I believe you, amigo. You say you've got no idea what's going on? I'm sorry to hear that. I really, really wish I could just tell you everything. Or at least, what I think is everything? But this isn't really my place. Not my mankey, not my circus. I'm just the mankey's fun tia, y'know?" She tries to lighten the mood a bit, but it absolutely falls short. "But. For real, this isn't the kind of chisme I enjoy. Not when it involves any of you. I'm talking to her now." Nemona shakes the phone in her hand. "I'm gonna see if she's willing to hear you out."

"Hear me out? She was the one--"

"That isn't how anyone here knows the story, Arven. At least what she's been able to bring herself to tell of it. I don't think any of us can claim to know all the details, but do you think she'd lie to make you look bad? Really?"

That seems to give Arven pause. At least long enough for Nemona to check the latest message from you. She smiles.

"She's on her way to the Treasure Eatery and will meet with you there. Be sure to bring the stroller."

--

Arven makes it to the restaurant before you. It isn't really surprising, given your detour to the league building to drop Basil off with Nemona for a bit. He ought to thank his lucky stars for Nemona pleading his case to you, saying he seemed to be genuinely confused and distraught over the situation. Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered. This is...exhausting to think about. Facing him. Trying to figure out what he wants. Why he came.

You won't lie, your initial thoughts as you rushed home with Basil tucked tightly in your arms, shielding him from his father, were rather dark. Was Arven here to try and take him? Did he think he could use your baby as some kind of prop in his social media videos? People go crazy for dads after all.

But, no. If you're honest with yourself (like Nemona urged you to be) that's not the man you knew. You couldn't imagine him becoming someone like that either, especially if he didn't want to be a dad in the first place... Beyond that, if you think rationally for a moment, there isn't a court in the world that would order your toddler son to another country without you.

No, this...this will be safe. It will be scary. To see him again. But. There's no need to think there's danger. It will just be kind of scary. And you can deal with scary, if only for a few minutes. 

"Hey." Your voice sounds drained as you drop your bag on your side of the booth and follow behind it to sit. You want to look at him. Look him in the eye and ask him what his deal is, but you just can't summon that brand of bravery.

"Hey." His tone isn't really discernable; you can't guess what he's thinking. "I, uh...ordered your usual drink. Or...What you used to order? If that's cool?"

Sure enough, there on the tabletop is your go-to drink from the Treasure Eatery, a ring of condensation already formed at the base of the glass, dampening the flimsy cardboard of the disposable coaster.

"Oh." It surprises you, that small bit of thoughtfulness. "Thanks." You take the glass in both hands and sip, letting the frosty cold of it ground you before you finally look up to see him.

He's... He's so much like Basil, it makes a lump form in the back of your throat. The nose, the eyebrows, the bow of his lips. You've seen them all every day for almost two years now in the face of your little boy; things you noticed and adored, now mimicked before you. Beyond that, he's still Arven. Time hasn't changed him too terribly much. For an adult, it hasn't been too long, so it's not like he's suddenly grey and withered before you or something. The biggest difference is how he pulls his hair back into a low ponytail, the patchy stubble around his cheeks and chin. He's either growing it out to try something new or just hasn't bothered with a razor for a while.

"Hey." You finally say. Truth be told, if not for your drink, your throat would've gone dry just seeing him again.

"So..." He starts, leading.

"So...you're back."

"Uh. Yeah. The plan was to spend the weekend clearing out my old storage....and...head back to Lumiose..."

"'The plan was?'" You ask.

"W-Well, I mean... I. I don't think I can just go back now, can I?"

You tense. Why did that feel like an attack? "I don't see why not. You didn't seem to think it was important to, you know, come back before now. What makes you think you have to stay?" Your tone comes off colder, more callous, than your aching heart would otherwise reveal, and it does its job, egging Arven onto frustration.

"I saw Clavell with Basil." He starts, pausing when he notices your flinch at the name. "Then I saw him with you. And... I mean..."

"Oh, so you saw him and now suddenly you care?" You ask, venom dripping more than you'd care to admit.

"What are you saying?!" He grates, volume only as loud as public decorum would allow in the bustling restaurant. "You... You have to be kidding, right? Of course I care! There's... There's a whole kid! Right? Where did he come from, huh? Cuz, like... Those don't just appear! And he's yours, right? He's gotta be! Like, obviously I see my...resemblance, but I see you in him, too!" That surprises you. No one ever found your features in Basil anymore, save for your mom, who made an off-handed comment once or twice about your eye shape or something.

Arven takes your silence as reason to continue "I mean... I've seen my photos from a young age... I..." His anger fizzles out into confusion as he goes on. "I don't want to make assumptions about...about us or what we were? But...looking at that kid, it's gotta be, right? That it was me? That I'm..." He can't say it out loud. "But why? Why didn't you say something? Why did you hide something like that? Cuz, like... I mean...even...even if he were someone else's... I mean, why wouldn't you have said something?"

"Hide it?!" The accusation shocks you into a response. "I never hid anything! I tried telling you for ages, back when you actually picked up the damn phone! You forced me into having to text you about my son! Then you blocked me! I have the receipts, Arven. I don't know what kind of delusion you've got going on in that head of yours, but I never hid my boy from you until I was given reason to! Why would I go out of my way to force a child upon a man who couldn't acknowledge him? Why wouldn't I keep my son safe from someone who didn't have the decency to be there for him? For me?"

Your tone has risen to a point where a few of the surrounding tables have hushed to listen in, and Arven can tell that prying eyes and ears are now on you both. He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, an attempt to steady himself, keep from getting more heated in public. 

"Bud." He begins, the old nickname hitting you like a sucker punch. "I never knew. I don't know what happened there, but I promise. I promise on Mabosstiff's life that I had no clue about any of this. I think there had to have been some kinda mix up..." You watch as cogs turn in his head. "I think... I'm thinking maybe something happened with my phone." He says, pulling the device from his pocket. "Like... Lemme just try and make this clear from my end. Okay? I got this text from you..." He starts, tapping the screen. "It was kinda mean, and when I tried to respond, I was blocked." He holds up the conversation for you to read.

>Hey! Sorry we keep missing each other lately! I hope things are okay? Are you staying warm? It's getting kinda cold here.

>can we not do this?

>Not do what?

>"This" i'm getting real fuckin tired of you bailing on me all the time now that your some hot shot kalosian celebrity guy

>Whoa. Where is this even coming from??

>you kno exactly where its coming from, arven. Youve been super shitty to me since you left paldea and it really hurts my feelings.

>I'm sorry? I've been busy here. It's been a lot getting used to a whole new place and a whole new language. I thought you understood that. I really am sorry though.

>y'know what? I dont really care at this point. Ive had enough waiting around for you to call me or text me back. there are guys here who can do better by me

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>[One Missed Call]

>Are you being serious right now? You can't be. This is a joke?

>[One Missed Call]

>[The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected and is no longer in service.]

Your face pales and stomach sinks as you read it. "Arven, I--"

"I just noticed earlier when I tried calling you about the stroller. That isn't even your number. It's Kalosian. It's... I think it's affiliated with my company? I can't be sure yet, but..." He locks the screen and puts his phone down. "I know now that you never sent those messages, and that somehow I lost everything related to your contact. So...whatever you might've sent...it isn't here. I couldn't have seen it."

With a nearly shaking hand, you grab his phone and open it back up, still remembering his old passcode (Mabosstiff's Pokedex number). "Hold on..." You absolutely sent a message. Whether it was deleted or not... You check his blocked numbers, knowing that on your end, you've been blocked since back when you first told him about the pregnancy. "Yup..." You show him the screen. There among several spam numbers was your own. "You blocked me."

Arven opens his mouth to argue. "Or, I guess," You continue before he has a chance to interrupt. "I was blocked... somehow? I still... I don't see how this could have happened..." You set the phone down and fish out your own from your bag. "Here." It only takes a moment to pull up your old conversations. "You can read for yourself what I tried to tell you."

>Hey! I know this isn't ideal, and I really would have rather said it in person or over a face call or even just a regular call, but I think you need to know, and I'm having a really hard time verbalizing it to you. I'm sorry to do it this way, but it's better to say it now than not at all, right?

>I'm pregnant, and it's yours.

>I'm so, so, SO sorry! I promise I didn't mean for it to happen like this, and I'm not trying to like…baby trap you or something. I swear! You're my best friend in the whole world, and I'm so happy that you can go and live your dream in Kalos right now. But I just feel like you should know? Like you should have a say in what happens here? I'd love to talk to you. Do...do you want to do this? Because....well if you're willing I'd want to try this. With you. But I also know that you're living your dream right now, and I don't want to get in the way of that! I want you to be able to really embrace this new journey you're taking and learn and grow and do wonderful things! But I just wanted you to know, you know? Please don't hate me. Just give me a call when you have a minute, and we can figure this out. Okay?

. Then after several months, you’d sent a picture. Just a simple selfie of you, looking exhausted beyond belief, hair tamped down to your head with sweat, but still smiling. In your arms is a tiny bundle with a little purple hat, face looking squished and wrinkly and perfect. Arven knows exactly what he’s looking at before he’s read your final message.

>He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

You watch as Arven tears up, holding your phone like a tiny, precious creature. "I never knew. I... I swear I didn't." He swallows. "My...my team... They all have access to my phone. Something must've... Someone, I guess..." He shudders then looks to you, resolute. "I'll figure it out. But." Arven looks at your hand on the table then flexes his own, curling and uncurling it from a fist. "I... I wanted to know. I should've known. I'm so sorry this happened..."

"Me too..." The anger and fear and sadness you had churning in your gut this whole time slowly begins to still. You don't know how to feel exactly about the misunderstanding, but you know Arven. You know he isn't lying to you, and to hear him apologize for all of this... It's like a weight off of your soul.

Arven pauses, gathering himself then stares you in the eye. "I was supposed to leave tomorrow, head back. Fuck that. I need to be here. I need to see him.”

It's another punch to the gut, and on instinct, you respond. "No."

[sailorspica]

the stars have all gone

part one of a series. crocodile x f!reader, past basil hawkins x reader. selfship-flavored; reader is an astrologer, hawkins' former navigator, and is a different race from both of them. canon au; starts toward end of the two-year time skip. 2k words.

Damn it. Your early retirement from sailing was supposed to be quiet. This New World island was large enough for you to build a client base and make rent with odd jobs in between, but word of a brusque young astrologer spread too fast, fast enough to reach a Navy lieutenant from your hometown who knew you by that scant description.

"Please!" He all but got on his knees at the farmer's market the other day. "We need navigators like you."

"If you want to arrest me, go for it. But I don't know where Hawkins is."

"No! Seriously! There's other reformed pirates in the Navy, and you don't even have a bounty. They'll overlook a lot for skill. Especially yours."

"Why? Don't your warships have technology for this?"

"They're still prototypes. One of them was faulty and it took some of the oldest marines to get it back to Vegapunk for repairs," he explained too easily, what should be trade secrets, surely.

"So you're saying I'm from Buddha Sengoku's generation."

Now the lieutenant had just entered the dining room at an upscale restaurant where a widow whose chart you read insisted on treating you to a meal. You suspected her husbands' deaths were far from accidental, not for her prominent eighth house but how freely and happily she spent on a hack like you.

"Shit," you said to yourself.

Your companion followed your gaze. "My, my. Men in uniform?" Then, seeing your face, she laughed into her wine.

There's no way he's here as a customer. A couple other marines trailed in after him, and they seemed to argue with the host about something, who was clearly turning them away. Then the lieutenant caught sight of you, but continued speaking, looking official and tense.

"Um," you said awkwardly. "Do you mind if I...?"

She shook her head. "Go on, dear. I'll call on you again."

With that, you stole into a dimly-lit hallway, your heels only barely sinking into the lush rug running down its length. Must be private rooms, you thought, and one at the end had its door cracked. You hoped it meant it was unoccupied, probably being prepared for the next diners, and so you briskly made your way over and grabbed the door handle with all the nerve you had.

"You don't work here."

Fuck.

There was no way for you not to recognize him. Sir Crocodile, former Warlord of the Sea and known Impel Down escapee. You'd heard he did business in the area and saw Daz Bones out and about once, but seeing the man in the flesh was different. He was utterly relaxed, a testament to either his confidence in his strength or how insignificant you were. The skin of the scar circling his face like an odd, fallen halo was almost shiny, almost pretty, you thought wildly, and his pale eyes peered down at you like you were a worm. Down because even seated, even a few yards away, he towered above you at an impressive height.

"I don't. I'm—"

His golden hook glinted in the candlelight, and you knew it wasn't the only deadly thing about him.

"Can I stay for a few minutes? Just until this person leaves."

Crocodile didn't look impressed, and worlds away from amused. "No."

"He's a Marine."

"No."

"Please? You're probably here because of the this place's discretion." It was owned by a noble a notch below a Celestial Dragon who wielded that proximity to make it a de facto underworld sanctuary. "Someone must have seen you arrive and tipped off the Navy, who should know by now they can't get past front of house even with a warrant." You were rambling, you knew, and looking more at the deep violet cravat at his throat than at him. "In a way it's your fault he's here at all," you added sullenly, more to yourself, and your gaze slid to the floor.

Crocodile let you stand there uncomfortably on purpose, and you didn't need visual confirmation that he was looking you up and down, waiting for you to squirm. It was a game you were wearily used to, a treatment your all-male crew didn't get, of wondering what a potential enemy's intent was—more often than not, twofold. Eventually, he took a deep lungful of his cigar, which smelled not unpleasant to you, and exhaled a low chuckle. "Alright."

"Seriously?"

"You're not armed." He said it so easily, and you realized you forget your thigh holster and knife on your vanity. "Unless that necklace of yours is something."

It was tucked between your dress and jacket so all that anyone could see was a dark, stainless steel chain. You set your purse on the table across from him and helped yourself to a chair. "It's not. It's a sextant."

"I beg your pardon?"

Men. He either didn't know—most likely—or reacted strangely to a woman saying "sex." Unlike Blackbeard, his reputation didn't carry so much as a suggestion of being a lech, so you fought back a smile at your private theory that he could be flustered.

"This." The sextant landed between your ribs, so you fished the chain from between your breasts to hold it up like a fish. It was hardly jewelry and really about the size of binoculars, but you were too used to the weight around your neck to part with with it. "It's a navigational tool."

"I've never heard of it."

"Few have."

"Your invention?"

You snorted, and the look he gave you might have been true disgust. "I'm sorry," you said hastily. "Sir." He wasn't a damn knight, but it was on some of his wanted posters, and it felt right because of his bearing, and felt right on your tongue for some subliminal reason, too. In your blood.

"Explain."

Terse, you thought. And open-minded. "It actually originated in the Grand Line, I believe, as something called an astrolabe." You set it on the table between the two of you and gestured that he was welcome to it. "There must have been some tribe someplace who realized that while the Grand Line in unpredictable, the night sky stays the same. They used it to leave and settle in four seas, mostly the East and North Blue. I think."

Crocodile leaned back and poured himself a glass of wine. To your surprise, he filled a second one and tipped it toward you.

"Oh, I cannot afford that."

"'Thank you, sir'," he corrected.

"I—"

"I don't care you're a pirate. Mind your manners if you plan to impose."

Your mouth clamped shut. What tipped him off? Not many women were experienced sailors outside the Marines, you supposed.

"Thank you, sir."

You accepted the glass, reaching above his thick fingers along the stem, brushing his knuckles briefly. Crocodile dipped his head in a short nod, and you studied, briefly, how he sipped so you wouldn't embarrass yourself.

"Continue."

"I'm sure this is really boring."

"Did I say that?"

"...No."

Even Hawkins' eyes glazed over when you went on about history, and he was one of the most tedious people you'd ever known.

"Um, so." You sipped. The wine was surprisingly sweet, or you expected the former Desert King to prefer drys too. "I mostly think this because when I started traveling in the North Blue, the only other people who recognized it were only a few generations deep. Came from the New World, many of them, and a lot looked like—"

Me.

"I'm surprised you're from the Blues," Crocodile said. "You have that look, like Boa Hancock."

Other men said so as a taunt or a come-on, but when you finally saw her photographed in the Paramount War, you thought you could be cousins, if her family got all the good genes. The Kuja Tribe was mysterious to outsiders, though you thought you heard, once, that they weren't homogeneous. But for the first time, the comment had weight, from a former Warlord who knew the Pirate Empress personally, and you felt your neck heat. He meant it neutrally, an observation.

"So it works by,"—was the wine going to your head?— "You pick an object like the Sun or a planet like Venus or a star like Sirius, and as long as you have a good idea of your latitude, you can use the angle it forms to the horizon to find longitude. Most navigators know to use the sunrise and sunset to determine direction, but—" You noticed lukewarm appetizers. "Oh, fuck, I already ate, I can leave if you're waiting for your—"

"Language."

Fuck. "Sorry. Sir."

"There seems to be some delay because of your little boyfriend."

Hawkins...? Oh! "Oh, no. I wouldn't touch a Marine with a stick."

Crocodile laughed that little huff again, and it was deep and rich and dry. "Good. And you're sure they're not after you?"

"No. I never had a bounty."

"'Had'?"

"I'm retired."

"Surely they'd arrest a pirate who can navigate the Grand Line without a Log Pose."

"Oh. I used that, too. All these tools are best in conjunction." You giggled at your own astronomy joke, and you were sure that'd annoy him, but he didn't react outwardly. "But I left it with my captain."

"Your captain," he said. "And that is?"

You frowned. Why was he so curious? "He's part of the Worst Generation. 'The Magician.'"

It took him some thought. "Basil Hawkins," he realized. "This doesn't sound like magic to me, though," he said, gesturing at the sextant. "There's a bright star I notice lately in the evening."

"That's probably Spica," you said. "It's springtime in the North Blue, so Virgo sets along with the sun. Sorry, uh, it's the 'spike' of the wheat that the maiden holds in the constellation."

"I was born under Virgo, if I understand correctly."

"Oh, you don't, actually."

His pale eyes widened a bit, you suspected more at your breezy tone than any investment in his horoscope. "Oh?" It was dry, and more like a grunt.

"When?"

"September 5."

Four days before—"The latter part of Leo, then. Ruled by the Sun, Desert King. There's no physical relationship between the 12 signs and their constellations."

Crocodile sat back and looked you up and down again, but there was something different in it. "Show me."

"Virgo?" You looked around. You could draw out the constellation on a napkin, you supposed.

"No." He nodded toward your sextant. "The astrolabe."

"The sextant."

He cleared his throat. "That."

You allowed yourself a grin. He was embarrassed.

"Hmm." You scanned the room. "That lamp." A slightly ugly lampshade with tassels and a boudoir-esque damask, a few feet behind him and to the left of his head from your point of view. "Let's say that's Jupiter. We call it a evening star because you can see it right after sunset. And..." You tapped the table. "This is the horizon. I'm facing the bow. You're my captain, asking where north is, because the next island is somewhere east." You picked up your sextant and shot the lampshade. "45'5.02" degrees," you said. You caught him in the sight, too, as you went to set it down, and god, his stare was intense. "I would need my ephemeris and some paper, but based on that I could calculate how far east we are of Mary Geoise."

"Mary Geoise?"

"The ephemeris isn't a nautical reference," you said. "The only people with the resources to put into mapping out Saturn's movements for 50 years at a time are the government and the Celestial Dragons, and the Navy relies on compasses and sea charts anyway. It's a book for divination."

He tilted his head, like he'd come to some conclusion. "You don't believe in fortunetelling."

"I think we make our own fortune."

You don't know when it happened, but you'd given up your skittish distance from the table to scoot closer, narrowly missing his long legs with your knees.

"I agree." He seemed closer, too, and his posture drooped slightly, like he was trying to close the substantial difference in your heights. You swallowed.

"It's romantic to say the heavens reflect it, but it's coincidence, not causation."

"And you?"

"My sign? You don't seem like the type."

Crocodile shrugged. "It takes up newsprint."

"So does garbage." He smirked at that. "Pisces, tropically, Aquarius, sidereally," you answered. "We're opposites."

"And what would a fortuneteller say about that?"

You smiled. "Depends on what you pay."

[imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese]

Secret Food

Eris and the Drifter. Dinner for two.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

*** Content Warning: Mature language - sex jokes ***

“I have never in all my lives tasted something this good.”

The Drifter’s eyes gleamed with pride while he was chewing, watching her from across the table in the galley of the Derelict.

“It is so good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

“Way too early for me to be pulling out something like this for ya… but this is a special occasion so something special had to be made and, well, this is the most special thing I know.”

“I did not expect to be this impressed.”

“It’s pretty good, not gonna lie. This one’s a show stopper.”

“What is it called?”

The Drifter blinked and swallowed.

Eris tilted her head.

“The dish I’ve made for you tonight,” he smirked while reaching across the table to wipe a tiny bit of sauce from her chin and then lick his finger, “is composed of chicken, in a cream sauce, with sun dried tomatoes, red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese, basil, garlic, and thyme… the plant, not… how long it took to make.”

“Hmmm…”

“I put it on top of linguini, which is just the name of this noodle,” he held one up on his fork as an example, “that’s halfway between spaghetti, which is the round one, and fettuccine, which is the flat one. Although both of those are good too, hell any noodles or rice or just about anything is fine under this. It’s pretty great.” He returned to twirling his noodles in his fork.

“Hmmm…”

“What?”

“I asked you what it was called and you told me the ingredients.”

He paused, the food on his fork held mid-air. He put the fork down and took a sip of water.

“Has anyone ever told you that your level of attention to detail is frightening?”

“What are you hiding from me, Rat?” Eris prepared another mouthful of food on her fork. “Are you… blushing?”

“Feels like it, yup. Probably am.” He nodded.

“Is it named something excessively lewd and inappropriate?”

He shook his head and took another sip from his glass.

She studied her plate. “Chicken thighs in a cream sauce... cum on my thighs?”

He started coughing as water went up his nose.

“Dammit.” He took a few moments to breathe. “No, it is not.” He laughed. “Where the hell did that come from, Moondust? Damn!”

Eris continued eating, her face impassive. “Were you under the impression that my command of language only extended to words of more than three syllables?”

“Holy shit, Eris,” His face was red. “This is not how I thought this dinner was gonna go.”

"Hmmm… you are disappointed."

"Nope. Didn't say that. Don't feel that. Just surprised as all hell at what just came out of your mouth."

"Hmmm…"

"Cum on my thighs," he whispered, still baffled, shaking his head.

"Your request will be taken under consideration."

"Now you're just fucking with me."

"We should at least finish dinner first."

The Drifter coughed, laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes.

"Dammit, Moondust, I was tryin' for romantic here. This is our first actual legit date. And you just got back from takin’ out two gods and bein’ the most powerful hive that ever hived. It’s supposed to be a celebration. I even got us a candle and everything."

Eris looked over at the single candle sputtering to itself in a metal can on the table between them.

“I mean yeah, it’s in a soup can, but it's still a candle. That makes this a candle-lit dinner for two. By definition, as you so like to say. "

Eris smiled. "Yes, it is. And I do like it."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

She reached out and took his free hand, twining her fingers between his.

"So, what is the name of this dish that is not…” She broke off as he looked away. “That… actually offends you.”

He sighed. “A little, yeah. Not you talkin’ like that, that’s hilarious. Please do that more. Just… not about this.”

She rubbed her thumb against the side of his hand.

“I’m sorry. You made something very special to you and in my attempts at humour I’ve ruined the mood completely. Please forgive me.”

"You’re forgiven, but… I’m not comfortable sharing the name of this particular dish with you and I am asking you to please accept that and respect that I am keeping this one from you.”

“Because of what I said?”

“Nope, not related.”

“Hmmm…a secret food, then.” She continued eating with one hand while holding his hand in the other.

“Yeah. A secret food.”

“You’ve fed me a secret food, won’t tell me the name of it, although you freely give me the ingredients, you blush deeply when I ask, and it isn’t something horrifically crass. It is in fact the opposite… very special to you. Extremely so. Deeply personal.” She squeezed his hand.

“Yeah.”

“What a fascinating puzzle.”

“Uh oh. Moondust, I want you to promise me something.”

“Hmmm…?”

“Promise me you won’t go looking this up. It’s an old, old recipe. Pre-golden age. Anyone who knows about it is long dead by at least a thousand years. There’s no way in hell you’d find it. But now I’m actually concerned. You are like a fish in water in a library and if anyone could determine what it is, it would be you. Will you promise me? Please?”

She smiled, chewing slowly, looking away for a moment, enjoying his discomfort, before returning her gaze to him and lifting his hand to her lips, kissing one of his knuckles and swallowing her mouthful of noodles and chicken.

“I promise I will not research the name of your secret food. But, does this mean I do not get to eat it ever again? It’s so good. It was never my intention to insult it or you.”

“I’ll make it for you again.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let go. “I know it’s good. I’ll make it for you lots. As long as you don’t call it… that. And again, I ain’t complaining ‘bout you talking like that, just the application to this dish, specifically.”

“And will I ever get to know the name?”

“Ha!” He laughed nervously. “I uh… I don’t know. Um…" His eyes briefly unfocused. “Maybe?” he whispered. “Didn’t think I’d ever share this with anyone and here I am sharing it with you, so…” His eyes refocused and he looked at her like he was trying to calculate something. “Maybe.” He said the word softly, like a prayer.

“Hmmm…” She rested her chin on her hand, observing him as she ate.

“Tell ya what.” He poked the air between them with his fork. “Ask me again in… a hundred years… and we’ll see where we’re at, ok?” He returned his fork to the chicken.

“A hundred years.” She said incredulously.

“Yeah… at that point if I’m still feeding you this, you’re entitled to know the name of it.” He grinned at her and ate another forkfull.

“You really mean I cannot research this for a hundred years.”

“Yup. You promised.”

“We could die at any point before then.”

“Fine, if we’re about to die I’ll tell you the name of it then too.”

“What if I find out by accident?”

“You won’t.”

“How did you find out what it is and what it’s called if everyone who has ever made it is long dead?”

“A farmer taught it to me. His father taught it to him, and his father before him. It’s… a family recipe… and for a while that family had unofficially adopted me as one of their own.”

She drew in a sharp breath. “It was them.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his food. “It was them.”

“I feel terrible now. Have you never shared this with anyone else?”

“No one.” He looked up into her eyes. “Only you.”

“I am… honoured.”

“Yeah, I guess it is a bit of an honour thing.”

“You don’t do honour.” She shifted her voice to match his cadence. “That sorta shit gets you killed.”

He laughed. “Well, apparently in this one specific case, I do. And also, that’s real cute, what you did just now. You should do that more too.”

“But I have made you regret sharing it with me.” Her voice was tinged in sadness.

“I… no… you have not. Not one bit. Ain’t no one else I’d want to share this with. Very grateful you’re here sharing it with me now. This is a happy thing. No amount of random, unexpected, fuckin’ hysterical, cussin’ from your oh so sophisticated mouth is gonna change that.”

She smiled again. “I didn’t know honour could taste so good.”

“It really is tasty. That’s… why it’s called what it’s called. Gimme your plate?” He stood with his empty metal plate and fork in one hand.

“Hmmm… sadly, yes.” She placed her fork on her empty plate and passed it to him.

“I will make it for ya again, I promise,” he said, taking their plates to the sink. "Felt real good to make it for you. What’s that word, cathartic? It felt right. Safe, even, if that makes any sense.” He looked back at her. “Tea?”

“Yes.”

“I got a special one for you to try, and a backup if you don’t like it. Chocolate mint.”

She wrinkled her nose.

“But before you go judging it, it’s not sweet, not at all.”

“I am willing to try it, although chocolate does not sound like it belongs in tea.”

“The chocolate isn’t added to the tea. The plant the tea is made from is called chocolate mint. Ain’t no actual chocolate involved.”

“Really.”

“Yup. Mint is fuckin’ weird like that. Oodles of different kinds.”

“Oodles.” She spoke the word as though she were rolling it around on her tongue.

“Oodles. And it’s super aggressive, for a plant anyway, so I have to keep it in its own box on its own shelf or it just takes over everything… slowly of course, cuz it’s a plant. Grows over top of the other plants to steal their light. Mint is vicious. Doesn’t play nice with others. I like it.” He handed her a steaming mug and sat back down across from her.

“It smells like candy.”

“Yup. Nothing in it though. No sugar, no honey. Just dried leaves and water. I put milk in mine. Cuts the bite. Not in yours, though.” His eyes glittered. “You like stuff that bites.”

“Hmmm…” She smiled and took a sip.

“You can try mine if you want to know how it is when it’s more creamy-like.”

“No. I like it as it is, without alteration.”

“Thought you might.”

“And it just… grows… like this…”

“Yup. Wanna see it? I can give you the plant tour. It ain’t long.”

“Yes.”

He stood up and held out his hand. She took it and laced her fingers between his. Mugs in their other opposite hands, they walked through the doorway together.

This is part 1 of 3 in Dinner for Two. However please do be advised that part 3 will reference happy fun sexy times which occur "off screen." This is not an explicit story series but they do end up being sweet and cute and naked together. Anything straying into actual depictions of happy fun naked sexy times will remain on Ao3 where you need to click past an age verification and agree you want to read that content, as well as include tags so you can know exactly what the story contains before reading, if you so choose.

[i-love-yoi]

Hey! Sorry if this is really specific. Feel free to ignore this request.

Omori characters with a fem!reader whose birthday happens to be on the same date (not year), that Mari died and has the same hobbies, actions, personality traits (basically almost everything like Mari except looks)?

Tysm if you ever do this!!

S/O who is very similar to Mari in hobbies and has the same birthday as Mari.

Characters: Hero, Kel, Sunny, Basil, Aubrey.

I hate chemistry, and yet I take it. Now I'm praying that I'll pass this test with a three, and not a two, as usual. In general, at home I write test papers with a four, and at school with a two. However, the scores there are too high (0-9 points - a two, 10-23 points - a three, 24-30 points - a four, 31-38 points - a five). In general, I studied this whole month, worked on my body (losing weight) and played Chinese gacha games. Sorry for the delay, I just have exams coming up, I'm preparing for them (I've already passed the first exam (February 12), thank God I passed (16 points out of 22). I'm starting to think about making an account on AO3 and publishing a bunch of fanfics for different age groups🏋🏿‍♂️🏋🏿‍♂️🏋🏿‍♂️🏋🏿‍♂️🏋🏿‍♂️

TW:Fem!reader, romantic relationship, events take place after Mari's death, unhealthy relationship (?), delusional behavior, obscene words, Russian grammar, hurt.

Hero

•The death of the love of his life, what could be worse?

•The appearance of a person in his life who is perfectly similar to his dead love, and differs only in appearance.

•It was like a fucking reincarnation of Mari.

•The same character, the same tastes, the same hobbies, even the fucking birthday was on the same day as her.

•And only the appearance was different.

•As if this really was a pure reincarnation, as if heaven gave him a second chance.

•And he clearly will not miss this second chance.

•He will not be able to just let him go, now he will squeeze all the juices out of this "second chance."

•And he is lucky in that you have exactly the same preferences as Mari, absolutely the same, that's good, right?

•He could literally sometimes confuse your name and not even notice it.

•You're so kind, like Mari, and Mari would never be offended by that, so neither would you, right?

•It was always like, "Mari, I brought you your favorite flowers!" Or, "Mari, your baking is just wonderful!"

•But...Your appearance was not the same as hers.

•I think he would slowly, deliriously, and without even noticing, start changing your appearance little by little.

•For your own good, of course! After all, he wants you to shine and be simply beautiful!

•"I think this hair color will suit you just fine with your beautiful eyes!", "Maybe you should get this hairstyle? It will suit you perfectly, darling!"

•And many similar things.

•Oh, and he damn well can't stop comparing you to Mari, even if you say that you don't like it.

•You have to understand him! He is the main victim here! The victim of loss! He lost the love of his life!

•But hey, he told YOU that YOU are the love of HIS life...

•He doesn't see you, he sees Mari.

•Better take him to a psychologist before it's too late.

•Otherwise, who knows what else he can do.

•But the main thing to remember is that he doesn't consider all his actions to be obsession or harm.

•In his opinion, he helps you, makes you and you better.

•Even if it's the other way around.

Kel

•He was a little scared, he had to admit.

•He never even thought that something like this could happen.

•All those cliches in books and movies about love, like: "She's a damn copy!" were just a fantasy for him.

•But when he saw it in reality, to be honest, he got goosebumps.

•He almost screamed, like those desperate guys in the movies: "You're a damn copy of her!" or "Did God bless me with a second chance?", although the second phrase is more suitable for his older brother.

•He never felt any love for Mari, especially since he was too young for this! And his older brother was almost her fiancé.

•But when he saw how similar his own girlfriend was to his dead friend, it became a turning point for him.

•In fact, Kel used to be very angry at Mari for the fact that the day of her funeral fell right on his birthday, where he was forgotten, again.

•However, this was in childhood and he was small then, and compared to his love for Mari, Kel quickly rejected these feelings and thoughts.

•Kel was always the one who threw away his emotions if he considered them unnecessary.

•Thanks to the injury, he swallowed all the bitterness and resentment, smiling through fatigue and pain.

•Who will need him if he is always sad and tired?

•No one.

•And at least someone needs clowns, so he cannot show his true self.

•Just smile.

•Honestly, you will become almost like a second parent to him, and he will become your first child for you.

•He will become more mischievous and capricious.

•Oh, he still remembers that care from Mari, and you have exactly the same!

•So, in a sense, you are now parents to your own boyfriend.

Sunny

•Oh, shit.

•This is total shit, bro.

•You're literally the epitome of his older sister, except for your looks.

•Damn he blames himself so much for what he did, and now you too.

•The guilt over THAT situation is growing so strong, his spine is almost breaking from the weight.

•Honestly, at first he felt like you were sent to him by God himself as a punishment for what he did.

•Yeah, he loves you, but damn—

•It's just that you and Mari are so similar, you're like twins, only you look different.

•Same preferences, same hobbies, same phrases, even the same thoughts.

•Sometimes he thinks that you're the reincarnation of Mari, even if you're not.

•Because of these thoughts, he often finds it difficult to make any romantic gestures towards you, even kisses on the cheek.

•In the end, he is not a fan of incest, but on the contrary, a despiser.

•Even in his dream world, you and Mari are the same, even in appearance, well... Almost.

•To distinguish between you and Mari, he gave you a mole under your eye in the dream world.

•His heart often stops when you call him by name, like Mari once did.

•He is unlikely to get rid of it.

•It seems that he will have to live with this huge feeling of guilt forever.

•And even God will not spare him.

Basil

•Holy shit—

•This is going to be a total fuck-up for him.

•He still blames himself for everything, he's heard a lot of different bullshit, he's carried the burden of guilt alone, and now... this.

•Fucking rebirth Mari, completely.

•Well... almost completely.

•You have everything the same, hobbies, preferences, even the taste of baked goods is just as perfect!

•But only your fucking appearance makes you different, well, maybe the year of birth.

•The gods must be making fun of him.

•As if they sent you to him on purpose to torture him even more.

•He always considered gods and angels to be kind and merciful, but angels are not like that.

•They are just fighters for justice, ready to do terrible things for the sake of equality and the implementation of the laws from their holy book, the Bible.

•Basil himself was not a direct follower of Jesus Christ or a religious fanatic, but he believed in God.

•Until that moment.

•He still feels enormous guilt for that incident.

•He lay in bed every night, his heart pounding, his lungs unable to absorb oxygen, and tears streaming down his face.

•And curled up on the bed like an abandoned kitten, with a rapid heartbeat that was audible even in his ears and could easily pierce his ribs, he held his palms together, whispering a prayer for forgiveness.

•He prayed to everyone: God, angels, Sunny's parents, Kel, Hero, Aubrey, Mari.

•But no one ever responded to his pleas.

•No one ever forgave him.

•Honestly, Basil is very uncomfortable around you.

•And it would be a lie if I said that it wasn't because of you.

•But that's not the case.

•Yes, it is because of you, but it's not really about you.

•More precisely, it's about who you remind him of.

•He is overcome with intense fear every time he sees you, because your appearance brings back completely different memories.

•Sometimes good ones, and sometimes not so good ones.

•It will be very difficult for him to interact with you.

•Even just standing next to you will be difficult for him.

•You are a walking trigger for him.

•But, of course, it's not your fault.

•Only his fault.

•No one else's.

•He often thinks that you are just a reincarnation of Mari and have come for revenge, for his soul.

•He will never be forgiven.

•Never.

Aubrey

•For the first time in her life, Aubrey doesn't believe her eyes.

•When she first saw you, and in principle met you, she felt only shock, and her face expressed obvious disbelief.

•Who are you? Still an unfamiliar girl or her childhood friend, who was like a mother to her, just in another body?

•Aubrey herself is a detached and far from affectionate person, thanks to her father's departure and her mother's drunkenness.

•She never wanted to be the first to meet someone or ask someone for affection.

•Not after Mari's death.

•But here you are, a wonderful vision, which is literally a mirror image of Mari, only the appearance is different.

•Like her twin sister, the same character, but different in appearance.

•Although in twins everything is the opposite, but that was not even the point.

•When she saw you, she was immediately drawn to you.

•She immediately wanted to know you, to be with you.

•She just wanted to feel again that affection that she lost 4 years ago.

•That affection that she never received in normal quantities from her mother or father.

•Aubrey often went to church after that meeting, but now not only to pray for a better life that she has now, but also to thank the gods.

•To thank them for giving her literally a second chance.

•A second chance to feel loved again.

•A second chance to protect the one she loves and the one who loves her.

•Thanks to your exact resemblance to Mari, you quickly became friends and quickly got along.

•It was easier for Aubrey with you, because she knew that she loved Mari, and it turned out that you were literally her, just in a different shell.

•But sometimes there are absolutely maximum awkward moments, mainly for you.

•Because of your similarity to Mari, Aubrey often calls her by her name.

•And the most interesting thing is that sometimes she doesn’t even understand that she said something wrong!

•Also, in her gang, the ace is often compared to Mari.

•Yes, although they weren’t as familiar with Mari as Aubrey, for example, but hey, this gang of Mari, Kel, Hero, Sunny, Aubrey and Basil was popular in their entire town.

•And especially since Aubrey called you that, so if their boss calls you that, then you are probably like two peas in a pod, and it will be much better that way.

•Although you two often have quarrels because of this.

•Of course, you don’t like that you are not seen and are considered another person, and you express it.

•Aubrey doesn't see anything terrible in this, and often feels betrayed, because "Mari would never say that!"

•But then, swallowing her pride, Aubrey apologizes first.

•In the end, she doesn't want to lose again that affection that she lost 4 years ago.

[eusuntgratie]

thank you for the tags today and sunday! tags below the cut + open tag for anyone who sees this <3

doing things a little different this week since i've just finished some things.

any of my hockey peeps should check out the sidgeno exchange fics. they are amazing! i am still in awe of mine 🫠🥰😭

chapter 2 of mechanic alex is up for my firstprince folks. set immediately after the first part. at least one, maybe two, chapters still to come.

here's a bit of a sidanna ficlet i started today, inspired by anna's insta story from a little over a month ago (beware - men's hockey rpf featuring a wag)

He swings the door open to find Anna, looking like she’s stepped directly from a photoshoot onto his porch. She’s got a large bag thrown over one shoulder and her phone clutched in her elegant hand.  “Anna, hi,” he says, vaguely nervous in the ambiguous way he always seems to be around her. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting you. Let me go grab a shirt.”  “No,” she says, sharp and almost a little mean, and he freezes.  She steps in and Sid stares out at the driveway, eyes searching like Geno will pop out of a corner somewhere if he keeps looking.  “Um,” he stutters, closing the door. “Where’s Geno? Is everything okay?”

and a little raf/alex snippet bc that's what i'm working on next!

Alex is smart, and funny, and it’s easy to forget that he’s damn near twenty years his junior when they’re going toe to toe on policy and campaign strategy. They spend all day traveling and talking to people who’ve largely been ignored by the political process and Raf is in awe of the way it lights Alex up.  He’s tactile and affectionate, always in Raf’s space, crowding close on tiny hotel couches and sprawling over Raf’s bed to play cards, always putting a hand on him when they talk, touching him whenever he can get away with it. Raf always lets him get away with it.

thank you for the tags today and sunday 💜💜

@onthewaytosomewhere @firstprincehornyramblings @taste-thewaste @sheepywritesfics @softboynick

@basil-bird @thinkof-england @firenati0n @heysweetheart-writes

no pressure tagging either to share words or just to see @bigassbowlingballhead @oxfordslutphase @lostcol @winderlylandchime @faketrex

@ninzied @captainjunglegym @sparklepocalypse @doublecheekedkinard + open tag 😘😘

[bananacorn-limeade]

1961's The WORLD of ICE and FIRE

I'm going to do it. I'm going to self-indulge!

The Roger Corman ASOIAF production post is mostly just a novelty, but since I'm me, I have a lot of FEELINGS and OPINIONS about this cast. Naturally.

Anyway. Here's how well I think the actors in my post would play their roles, from worst to best.

#19, Worst: John Ashley as Robb Stark

You know how Ben Affleck has a face that knows about emails? John Ashley has a face that knows about sock hops. Woefully miscast.

#18: Tor Johnson as Gregor Clegane

God love the big guy, but I've only ever seen him make this face. Also, despite his repertoire of roles suggesting otherwise on paper, he just doesn't seem like a mean guy.

#17: John Agar as Jaime Lannister

Another terrible choice. The only reason he's not ranked as worst is because his soulless performance would make viewers interpret Jaime as an absolutely irredeemable sociopath, which at least would be... uh, interesting, I guess.

#16 Robert Reed as Renly Baratheon

Renly, but only if he was the most boring Baratheon. Go ahead, try to picture Reed eating a peach. You can't.

#15 Dawn Bender as Arya Stark

Aw, she'd try. But I feel like her attempts at Arya's fire would mostly come off as petulance.

#14 Richard Carlson as Ned Stark

Sorry, what? I fell asleep for a minute there.

#13 June Kenney as Daenerys Targaryen

Kenney would try her level best, but you know Corman would do a terrible job incorporating her storyline with the main plot, so she wouldn't have much to do except lounge around on mildly offensive orientalist sets and talk to her force-perspective dragon puppets. (Stop-motion you say? What, you think American International is made of money?)

#12 Dolores Faith as Sansa Stark

Again, no knock to Faith, but as with Daenerys, I think a 1961 production would flatten Sansa's character away to nothing. She'd get to pine and wear some nice dresses.

#11 Anthony Dexter as Petyr Baelish

This guy can play oily like nobody's business (check him out in 1962's Married Too Young), but 5D-chess-level deviousness might be beyond him.

#10 Michael Dunn as Tyrion Lannister

Full disclosure: I'm plopping him in the middle because I've never seen him in anything! The only little person I've personally seen in Corman's movies is Billy Barty (playing an actual, literal imp), and Dunn was someone I found who was said to play much meatier roles. In general, I think the depth of Tyrion's character would seriously challenge 1960s casting directors who were used to casting little people in jokey roles or as something less than human. One of many problems they'd have with the source material, no doubt.

#9 Lon Cheney Jr. as Sandor Clegane

Here's another actor who would do the best with what he was given - which would be an essentially empty role. This Sandor would be a beast used only for jump scares, with too much rubber over his face to ever show an emotion.

#8 Glen Langan as Stannis Baratheon

Langan would be serious, but dull, with lots of droning sermonizing. In other words, perfect. Still boring though.

#7 Basil Rathbone as Tywin Lannister

Who better to play a role totally owned by Charles Dance than an actor who's even Charles Dancier? The only reason I'm not ranking this legend higher is because I do think he'd kind of sleepwalk through this role, especially at this stage in his career.

#6 Raymond Burr as Robert Baratheon

The future Mr. Perry Mason was damn good at playing hard-drinking, prowly, "beastly" men. See him in this fabulous trailer for 1951's Bride of the Gorilla (spoiler: Burr is the gorilla). Of course, for this production, he'd be about 10 years on from that virile role, but that's perfectly on brand for Bobby B.

#5 Michael Landon as Jon Snow

Landon's tortured James Dean era would be a great fit for angsty goth teen Jon, though he might have trouble keeping his feelings as hidden as Jon does.

#4 Allison Hayes as Melisandre

Should she be ranked this high? Eh, maybe not, but this woman is a goddamn B-movie bombshell goddess. Her Red Woman would be a little less mysterious, sure, but her perfectly arched eyebrows and bullet bra would do R'hllor proud all the same.

#3 Marie Windsor as Catelyn Stark

They didn't call her Queen of the B's for nothing. Windsor always did great with roles that call for strength and verve. She'd be a fantastic Cat, and - dare I dream it - an even better Lady Stoneheart.

#2 Jack Nicholson as Theon Greyjoy

Now this would be fun. If baby Jack Nicholson had half the presence and charisma he would show in later movies, his Theon would be legendary.

#1 Coleen Gray as Cersei Lannister

If I can get Tumblr to understand one thing, it's how much Coleen Gray would absolutely eat in the role of Cersei. She's beautiful. She's a schemer. She's a helpless victim. She's back for revenge. I challenge anyone to watch her insane, murderous, fierce, gorgeous, duplicitous performance in 1960's otherwise pretty terrible The Leech Woman and not come to the same conclusion. I'm serious. There would be no survivors. 👑

[drjohndisco]

Unexpected Confession

Pairing: Basil/Jack (+ Sprig)

Rating: M

Warnings: suggestive language/sexual innuendos, swearing, kiss descriptions, implications of past (non-consensual) mind reading.

Word Count: 1k+

Summary: Jack has a meeting he needs to get to, and Sprig ruins a quiet moment (as per usual.)

Notes:

1) I'm finally done!!! Woohoo!! (<- note from a guy who hyper-focused on this piece more than he probably should have.)

2) I haven't written dual perspective in ages, so I have no idea if this actually worked or not. Also, yes, I am aware that neither Basil's or Sprig's lore hasn't been explained (yet), please just roll with it. (The most important things here are that Basil (who is an alien with low level empathic abilities) works on site as a computer tech/on-call scientist, and that Sprig (a sentient mass of plant tendrils with eyes, but no visible mouth) can feel/always know of Basil’s location — due to previous shenanigans.)

[ Basil's lab - 18:00 ]

Basil

‘What do you want? I already thanked you for getting me out of jail.’ Basil asked, looking up at Jack, who was standing on the other side of the table. He was exhausted, and not particularly in the mood to talk to anyone. ‘Please, just go away. ’

‘No, I won’t. Because then I wouldn’t be a very good friend.’ Jack replied, sitting down on the chair across from him. Basil’s chest ached at the usage of the word friend, but he avoided the sensation. ‘You’ve been here for hours, go and get some rest. The base can keep ticking along without you.’

‘Sure,’ Basil laughed derisively. ‘And fish on your planet have wings!’

‘Uh, actually…’ Jack started. ‘There is a species that….’

‘Don’t fact check me.' Basil groaned. ‘It’s bad enough when Daniel’s around.’

'Fair enough.' Jack conceded.

Then Jack’s pager beeped - making him pull it from his pocket and look down at the message.

‘Oh, great! Another meeting’s been scheduled for about ten minutes from now.’ He complained, looking back up at Basil.

'What's this one for?'

‘Apparently they still need me to tie up some loose ends in terms of this whole attempted murder situation of yours.' Jack said, standing and pushing his chair away.

'How fun!' Basil intoned sarcastically. Then their eyebrows crinkled in confusion. ‘Aren’t you going to leave? You know what you’re like with time.’

'Just follow me to the doorway and I'll quit buggin' you.' Jack explained, beckoning him forward.

'Is that an order, Sir?'

'It is.' Jack stated, before turning and beginning to walk out.

'Fine.’ Basil grumbled, taking some of the paperwork from the table and putting it into their lap, turning the chair to the left. Then they begrudgingly scuffed it along the ground, following Jack. ‘Are you happy now?’

'Sure.' Jack replied, but stopped and looked back at Basil from the doorway.

‘What?’ Basil questioned.

‘You’re not going to kiss me goodbye before I go?’

It was a friendly jibe, and rationally Basil knew this, but that didn't stop him from pulling Jack down by his lapels - kissing him hard.

‘Damn.’ Jack murmured admirably under his breath, hands finding their way into Basil's hair.

Shocked by Jack's unanticipated reciprocation (and the strong emotions that came with it) Basil broke the kiss.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Come on, fucking think of something!

‘That….was a one time thing,’ Basil said after a moment - in an awkward attempt to deflect from the situation at hand. ‘Now, I’m just going to go and give these…to someone else who may need them.’

Basil then quickly picked all of the papers up and stood -- not particularly caring whether Jack was even listening to him -- before walking (as calmly as they possibly could) past Jack and out of the door.

Jack

Jack absentmindedly pressed a hand to his lips, as he watched Basil go.

Did I do something wrong?

Then, quietly, Sprig chuckled. Hearing this Jack closed his eyes in desperation.

Of course we had an onlooker.

(But, there’s nothing I can do about that now.)

‘He’s dropped all of those and is running for the lift, isn’t he?’ Jack sighed, not even bothering to look for Sprig (who was currently attached to the outside of Basil’s empty desk plant pot.)

‘Yes, he is.’ Sprig replied. ‘Go and get your bitch, Colonel.'

[ Basil's lab - 18:05 ]

Basil

'Hey,' Jack said gently, as he shut the door behind him. ‘Can we talk?’

…How on earth did he get down here so fast?

The base elevators can’t be that good, can they?

'What is there to talk about?' Basil snapped, as Jack strode over and sat down on their bed across from them. ‘I’m the one that screwed up, just go to your meeting and leave me alone!'

He's too close, I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin.

'I can't, I postponed it.' Jack replied. 'It'll happen tomorrow now.'

'Is that supposed to make me feel better?' Basil retorted.

'No, and I didn't expect it to.' Jack admitted. 'But that's not the point! The point here is that I'm sorry, Basil.'

‘Well, you shouldn’t be!’ Basil said, voice quavering. 'I've ignored what you obviously feel for Sam! That line shouldn't have been crossed!'

‘Damn it, B!’ Jack groaned, exasperatedly raking a hand through his hair. ‘Don't you get it? You're not Carter - and I don't want you to be! My feelings for her don’t affect my feelings for you! Our kiss should have told you that!'

Oh.

'I’m an idiot.’ Basil muttered.

‘Is that supposed to be news to me?’ Jack teased.

‘Oh, do shut up.’ Basil said, before bridging the gap between them; so that they were standing between Jack's legs, hands resting against his hips.

Jack

Jack, to his surprise, found that he had indeed done as instructed. 

(There was no sarcastic remark on his tongue, for once.)

‘May I?’ Basil asked. ‘Kiss you, that is?’

‘Yes, please do.' Jack replied, voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Then, before Jack could blink, Basil had shifted their hands - lifting his head and cupping his face - subsequently initiating a second (and far more passionate kiss).

Closing his eyes Jack kissed them back fervently; wrapping his arms around Basil’s waist to hold them steady as he pulled them closer, before slowly reaching up and snaking a hand into their hair.

Oh, I never want to let them go.

Basil

Eventually, after what seemed like a mere blip in time to Basil, they pulled away from Jack slightly – moving so that their forehead rested against his.

Fuck, this man can kiss! 

(I feel like I'm on fire!)

'Are you okay?' Jack questioned, looking up at Basil.

'Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tingly.' Basil replied. 'But that will pass.'

'Aw, I'm flattered I could make you feel that way.' Jack joked.

Basil opted to not dignify that with a response.

Then, suddenly, Sprig wolf whistled loudly - shattering the silence.

(He had apparently been watching from a spot on Basil’s bookcase, unnoticed, for some time.)

Startled by this noise Basil let go of Jack and fell backwards, landing on the carpet with a loud thud (and a muffled yelp.)

[ 18:07 ]

Jack

'Oh, fuck me!' Basil cursed angrily, sitting up and hitting the carpet with his fist.

‘Woah, hold your horses, cowboy!’ Jack laughed, as he leaned forward and offered a hand to help them. ‘At least let me buy you a drink first.'

‘Jack, you know that’s not what I meant.' Basil said, grabbing hold of Jack's hand – using him to slowly return to a standing position.

'Honey, are you sure about that?’ Sprig taunted, sliding across the floor so he was positioned next to Basil. 'I've been inside your mind, and, honestly, some of your thoughts made even me blush. Which, if you think about it, is quite a high bar.'

'Sprig, stop being an ass!' Jack yelled, interrupting him.

In response Sprig poked his tongue out at Jack, annoyed.

'Very mature.' Jack said, in a voice reminiscent of a tired father. 'What are you, twelve?’

‘I’m far older than that, but I doubt your tiny brain could comprehend my true age. It'd explode before you even got close.’ Sprig replied, snidely. 

'Oh, well done.' Jack goaded. 'Took you a long time to come up with that, did it?'

'Actually, now that I think about it, it is the one advantage your lover here has over you.' Sprig continued, ignoring Jack's comment. 'Although so far it doesn't seem to be doing Basil any good. They did fall for you, after all.'

Jack opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he noticed the icy look in Basil's eyes.

'Huh. I didn't peg you as being the submissive type, Jack...' Sprig sneered. 'Basil, on the other hand, however...'

Basil

‘Sprig, if you don't shut up soon, I'll go and get the wood chipper!’ Basil threatened.

'Oh no, so frightening! However shall I go on?' Sprig responded, raising a tendril to where Basil assumed his chest should be, and gasping mockingly. 'Goodbye, cruel world!

Then he disappeared with a pop, showering Basil with leaves.

‘Well someone must have woken up on the wrong side of the flower bed this morning.’ Jack noted, after a beat.

'Oh, you didn't...' Basil groaned, shaking their head to remove the debris. ‘I think that may have been one of the cheesiest things I have ever heard you say.'

'It's all part of my charm, sweetheart.' Jack replied, grinning. 'I know you love me for it.'

Yes, Jack.

(Yes, I do.)

[the-mighty-mittens]

More incorrect omori quotes!

Aubrey: Could you be anymore annoying?

Kel: Yes.

Sunny: Look, I know we don’t always see eye to eye but—

Aubrey: Thats because your too short to do so.

Sunny: ...Listen here you fucking—

At the last resort:

Aubrey: I’m Aubrey. I’m an accountant.

Omori: I’m Omori. I have a knife.

Hero: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Sunny?

Sunny: No.

Kel: I do!

Hero: I know, Kel.

Kel: I’m sad.

Hero: I know, Kel.

Hero: That sounds like a terrible plan.

Sunny: Oh, we've had worse.

Kel: Wanna hear some dark humor.

Sunny: Yeah, I love dark humor.

Kel: Alright.

Kel: *Turns off the lights*

Kel: Knock knock.

Sunny: Turn the damn lights back on.

Aubrey, to Kel: You have room temperature IQ.

Kel: What's room temperature IQ?

Sunny: 73°.

Kel: Oh, okay.

Kel: How much is that in IQ?

Kel: What's your greatest fear?

Basil: Being forgotten.

Kel: ...

Kel: Damn, that's deep.

Kel: Mine is the Kool Aid man, but I feel kinda stupid about it now...

Aubrey, to the Squad: If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands!

*silence*

Aubrey: Damn, y’all depressed as fuck!

Kel: You didn’t clap either-

Aubrey: SHUT UP!

Kel: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

Kel: Hero? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry?

Hero: Kel, I swear to god—

Sunny: I desire moisture.

Hero: Please just say "I want water" like a normal person.

Hero: What does “take out” mean?

Kel: Food.

Aubrey: Dating.

Basil: Murder.

Sunny: It can be all three if you’re brave enough.

Aubrey: You're violent.

Sunny: Yeah but I'm also short and that's adorable.

Basil: Be right back, gonna hit the toilet for a quick power sob.

Aubrey: You know, it’s fine to admit you were wrong.

Kel: *Sipping their drink after accidentally adding salt* I just like the way it tastes.

Kel: Sunny, can I ask you a question?

Sunny: You just did.

Kel: Okay, can I ask you two questions?

Sunny: You just did.

Kel, frustrated: OKAY, CAN I ASK YOU FOUR QUESTIONS?!

Sunny: You just did.

Kel: When?!

Sunny: Just now.

Basil: I am Basil, I speak for the trees. Chop them down and I snap your knees.

Kel: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Hero: Waking up in the morning and your phone wasn't charging.

Basil: Waking up in the morning.

Sunny: Waking up.

[vaudeville-moggie]

16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. (For the tmnt ask thing)

KELP THATS TOO MANY NUMBERS LEE

16.) Rise version of Casey, and her son are the coolest I think but I love them all they're my babies... The one from the 90s films is the hottest tho WHO SAID THAT

17.) I love 1987 shredder he's so sillies dad of two <3

18.) my favourite villain... Hmmmm 2003 had some really well-written villains I think? Baxter Stockman is one of my favs all-round maybe because he's abused a lot and he isn't really able to dig himself out of that... He gets really fucked up in 2003 but he kind of has a redemption in the future? Unfortunately 2003 didn't really explore that and I think it was more put in for laughs...

19.) my fav ally is probably Casey Jones or timothy (not including April because she's more like a main character, idk) or!! Carter, who appears in 1987 and then never again. I miss him 🥺

20.) theme song... I love them all... Rise's is objectionably the best but damn 2003 had some damn good bangers. I could listen to "back to the sewer" on repeat forever.

21.) favourite story arc? Like... Idk, one that appears a lot is the farmhouse arc (or country arc or rural arc whatever) that first appeared in the 90s movie (although it was probably in the comic first) and Leo or Raph is injured, and one sits by the other while they heal... It's a very soft moment for the brothers because they're usually fighting... If Rise gets renewed I'd love to see this arc again.

22.) I wasnt really a pizza eater before TMNT, it's not a big thing in Australia compared to NYC. I LOVE margherita!! Basil and tomato and boom, ya got yourself a pizza. I'll eat any pizza except any pizza with that horrid ham. Or anchovies. (Who does, wtf)

23.) fav TMNT fic dude idk I should read more... Uh tangledinink's teenage mutant what now?

Lots of TMNT fic recs on my side blog pinned post :3

27.) something I love to see in TMNT art/fics? Tails!! Hehe they deserve tails :3 also any references to sci-fi because that's very TMNT coded, it has a long history of star trek references

28.) what is one thing I'd like to see explored more in art/fics? uhmmm idk 🧍‍♂️as long as people are having fun idc... Maybe villain redemption? Like they did that in rise with draxum canonly so...

29.) what is one headcanon that I have? Uhmmm trans Leo I mean, always... Always.

30.) idk of any common headcanons that I reject... Every headcanon I've seen I've gone like, yeah, I can see that. Might not fully incorporate it into my headcanons but I've never blocked a headcanon or cringed at anything...

31.) one piece of TMNT canon that I dislike/ignore? Say it with me folks: Donnie's crush on April

32.) uhmm idk lol I think I got into it with rise so my first thing would be the thing I just redrew here the original being here

33.) my favourite thing I've made??? idk. I really like the pokemon au I haven't posted about at all and this!!:

only piece of my art on mah wall

34.) what character do i draw/write most often? it might... be mikey? idk... i think I draw them all evenly but i'd predict if you went through an actually counted out of the things I've posted, it would maybe be mikey.

35.) which character relationships are my fav to write/draw? idk I really like how mikey interracts with his brothers and sister(s) which is something I've found I enjoy playing with in my magic au... but I'm literally always drawing rise leo and yuichi usagi together in my tmnt sketchbook so

36.) which character I have the hardest time writing/drawing? Rise Raph for BOTH... sigh, I think I'm definitely better at drawing him than I was, but I've got a lot of practise to do. and in terms of writing, hes a very multi-faceted character and while he's the big brother and he has to responsible, he's also a kid and he can be silly and fun too...

37.) I write/draw multiple iterations of tmnt, but so far I've kind of only posted rise and 2012 drawings so...?

38.) Do you generally stick close to canon, or diverge from it?

my first instinct when writing fics is to make it canon-compliant... but I've made Aus too, so, both?

39.) Do you have any TMNT OCs?

ya, Jim (general tmnt sona or oc, and was my fursona for a bit) and this bat yokai oc I've only drawn like once, her name was ghost I think. I've also made an Usagi character for magic au 2012 leo... spoilers teehee

40.) Do you give the turtles tails? YES OFC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! unless I forget teehee

YAY!! happy 40 years TMNT!!!!

[fanaticsnail]

meant to send this yesterday but the sleepy got me so....

Off to an amazing start with my dad coming up behind me during opening credits/music and asking if I'm watching Tom & Jerry.

Thats such a pretty frame!

I wasnt expecting singing!! But hell yeah!! Sing your funky songs, bug man! - Ooooooh, is that a watercolor background? So pretty!

THE 🏹 BLACK ⚫️ FOX 🦊 - "Good friend Griswold from the north" Snail, is there something you'd like to sbare with the class?

Also, the costuming! I havent seen this many men in tights since Romeo and Juliet!

Sword Fight⁉️

Quick aside; his daughter looks so unbothered. Also, what is she embroidering? Is that a map? - "You marry griswold" -girl, I CACKLED

The King X Griswold- 20 k slowburn, friends to lovers - The singing should not surprise me as much as it does. I was practically raised on bollywood, so its not like im not used to it, maybe its because this is Hollywood not Bollywood, so I'm not used to it here? - Wearing his clothes is one thing, but did Hawkins make 6 additional Fox outfits for his friends? I'm starting to see the Buggy comparison you were making

I've always been under the belief that every weird little man needs a weird little child. So far, I'm not disappointed

Pretty sets, pretty people, what's not to love? - UGHHHH this is so soft, I love itttttt

question: did he do his own singing for this? singing for yourself isn't common in Bollywood so idk. - ONE BED? ONE BED!!??!??!!

Damn, no song in the swiss Alps, but worth it to see this little nerd short-circuit around a pretty girl. Ripe for the fic writing, this scene.

Me and who? ME AND FUCKING WHO?

Couples who commit crimes together stay together. Nothing like some good old treason to set the mood. - waitwaitwaitwaitwait she's actually a witch????

If Jean and Hawkins aren't endgame I'll cry - This movie is like if the Princess Bride and Once Upon A Mattress had a child and made Monty Python and the Holy Grail the godparent - JEAN 🩷✨💋 (she didn't do anything, I just think she's pretty) - Snail! Snail, why haven't you written this fic yet??? - I-I don't think that's how lightning works......could be wrong tho, who's to say, I've never been struck by lightning.

They're both the same flavor of stupid, bless - HIS FUCGKNG HEAD!! - That white shirt 🫦 That orange dress 🫦🫦 - THE 🏹 BLACK ⚫️ FOX 🦊

What the hell is going on???????????? - UGH, what an icon - okokokokok so the king is on the throne now but he's still....yk a baby. Give me a 10k fic about Jean being a girl boss and running the kingdom while Hawkins sits there like the goof he is and just admires her. 10k words of him being the biggest simp in existence.

-♡♡

Me at you right now:

"With your permission, my lady. I'd like to go round again."

I love Danny Kaye and Basil Rathbone. The fact that Angela Lansbury is there too as a gorgeous young, sassy princess is just my favourite thing.

"If it pleases me, you will marry Griswold." "If it pleases you so much, you marry Griswold." -> yes, queen. Get it. She is going to be the model for the type of sass Sir Crocodile's Sapsorrow is going to need to endure.

Your commentary is everything. The shipping of Griswold and the King is just hilarious. I need it 🤌.

Hawkins x Jean is beautiful. The whole plot is simply the best: failing forward incarnate. The masquerade trifecta. The disguises. The songs. The wenches. The silly dancing. Danny Kaye can absolutely sing, and his voice is gorgeous. His speciality was reciting tongue twisters.

My favourite line in the whole movie is: "Sometimes tenderness and kindness can also make a man. A very rare man." Coming from a strong woman who had to claw tooth and nail to become the pinacle of her rank. In the 50s.

Again, I love this movie to much that I got a tattoo of it.

I hope you liked it. It's an odd one, I'll give you that. It's one of my childhood favorites.

[khr-guilded-cage]

Who is Haruto?

A civilian Sky Yuka meet and took under her wing

Iemitsu wanted to take her as next CEDEF Head and force her to bond with Basil or marry him, and Timoteo was planning on making Reborn her tutor after he is finished with Yuka

Reborn is grinning, probally thinking how to he now got a new student to abuse and terrorize for his own amusement, and getting her terrible abusive Guardians and use her a toy

With so little Skies around, its perfert for them

They had the arrogant belief since Yuka is 'theirs', her powerful friends would also be part of the Vongola, to be used and abused as the Famiglia wanted, to make their worthless den of misery 'stronger'

They demanded and demanded her to step aside and hand over her friend to be abused and moulded (beaten) into a suitable CEDEF head, to be passive and pushover like poor Tsuna

Pressed and pushed to make her obey

They acted like Haruto begin Vongola was a done deal

Both them keep pressing her to just let them take her friends and use them. They though manipulating Uchiha Yuka into the Famiglia means all her powerful allies would also become Vongola's property.

Iemitsu did kidnapped Haruto and started to show her off to allies and subordinates alike, hoping to catch a marriage alliance, get more powerful Sky children or just to boast Vongola’s power to have another Sky just after they lost the fourth heir. Or try to make her Hamonize with Elements from CEDFF. Trying to keep her trapped and prisoner until she agree to their demands, forcing their flames into her.

"Now, young lady, I know you are upset..."

"Upset? Upset? I am fucking livid at your miserable fucker for daring think you have the right to dictate MY LIFE."

"Lets calm down...

"No, I won’t calm down. I won't shut up. If you genuine think I wont get my revenge on this worthless miserable Famiglia, you are fucking delusional. I am burning Vongola to the ground."

Yuka put her foot down, they tried the same shit when they kidnapped her.

"Don’t you want your friends to help you become a great boss? They should be here, with us, part of the Famiglia."

"NO, your pathetic senile old fucker. I refuse to let you abuse more children. Try it, I will murder you and steal your throne." She hissed out. "You can get your miserable, filthy hands on my friends and family when my body is rotting and cold underground."

Yuka might not be able to avoid the fate of Vongola Donna, but her friends will be free to choose their fates and future and freedom. She sneered. Pathetic little Vongola would be hers to do what she wanted, she would bring it back to its roots. Satsuki wanted to stay, Chiyoko maybe be her CEDEF head if she wanted, and when Iemitsu is dead and burried.

She nearly damn burned both alive when she found out, Haruto (who remided her so much of little Sasuke) wants to be a doctor and she wont allow those bastard abuse her and steal her life like they did to her, to force her to fight and die and sacrifice like Konoha did to her beloved doomed Clan

"Haruto wants to be a doctor." Yuka cut them off. "A far better profession than be part of a empire of corpses and criminals like your miserable Vongola." She spat the name. "Fuck the Vongola, it doesn’t deserve loyalty or power, I will fucking destroy this entire Famiglia and burn it to the ground before you take my friends and family in this WORTHLESS SHITHOLE YOU CALL A FAMIGLIA."

When Reborn keep trying to drag her real Guardians into the Family's fights, Yuka nearky damn burn the hitman alive. Her Guardians would be free.

Yuka growled. "I won’t allow your pathetic fuckers ruin more civilians children's lives for greed and arrogance. They are bright people with great futures and I will be damned if I let this miserable HELLHOLE you call a Famiglia steal them. I will piss on your corpse before that, I will fucking murder you. All your Ninth Guardians too."

A fight broke out between Yuka and Iemitsu (the blond tried to beat her up and take Haruto) and things got worse

At some point she decided to send some of her friends away for their safety from greedy Vongola. Chiyoko decided to start a few safehouses and places around by beating up Yakuza and taking their territories. They are safe and away from Vongola, mostly the non-combatents or more vulnerable victims.

Now CEDEF is on a literal manhunt after Haruto, Fuuta and some other Elements she garthered. Sawada Iemitsu is frustated and keep demanding and screaming at her to bring them back or else and keep sending his men to fetch them and drag them back to the Vongola, they keep slaughtering them all and sending CEDEF back their heads. The Famiglia is unstable because of Tsuna's death and Xanxus's coup and he had plans how to use her friends to regain Vongola's reputation and livid she refuse to hand them over and let the Family use them.

Iemitsu keep frowning and just saying he uis just bringing them 'home' where they 'belonged', didn’t she wanted her Family with her? To protect her?

"My home isn't Vongola. My family isn't Vongola. Never will be. I will never be loyal to this miserable Famiglia that ruined my life for their own benefit and keep denying their deeds."

"No, NONE of them will fight for the Vongola Famiglia." Yuka said bluntly and firmly. "Their lives are more worth than the pathetic shithole that abused me so badly and keep trying to make me their puppet king. I see no reasons for my loved ones fight to defend and fight for my abusers and captors. Fuck the Vongola. Your murdered a child and didn't even care for little Sawada Tsunayoshi like you keep claiming you do."

(She...is kinda like 39 with both ages added, so yeah, Tsuna is a child)

Vongola is arrogant enough (or spoiled rotten, giving they got poor Tsuna broken into obedience) to believe they could simple grab and snatch her and she would just bend to their will and don't fight back, Reborn was confident she would be like Tsuna or Dino, beaten and broken and caged like a good puppet king

Reborn is petty and angry his toy isn't broken and keep trying to kill her Guardians as punishment for daring stand up for herself

Nono keep sending death threats to Yuka and her loved ones like he did to Tsuna for her to be more obedient and fight Xanxus and the Varia in the poor excused of a staged Ring Battles

Iemitsu send a few Mists to mindfuck Hoshi and make him more...naive like his Nana-chan. Thankfully, Hoshi was trained enough to break it and Yuka all but demanded to know what the fuck he did, and the blond making excuses about her father 'safety'.

Nono just want to secure Vongola's future, at any cost, for the continuation of his Famiglia, he will do anything.

All must make sacrifices for the good of the Famiglia.

The Vongola's reputation among the Alliance was getting worse by minute, Nono tries to hide it and force Yuka to 'play nice' with orders, but she all but growling like a fetal mongoose at him every time didn't help, no matter how much Reborn tries to hit with a Leon-Mallet her to teach her 'manners'.

The promises of the New CEDEF Sky (Haruto) went missing too.

Timoteo keep lecturing his heir about duties and responsabilities and how 'Vongola needed to be united and stable' and Yuka keep telling him to fuck off, loudly and in front of people. Reborn is getting irritated and impacient and petty Yuka isnt bending to his Will like everyone. He didn’t like the brat who keep challenging him and wasn't afraid of him or listen to his advices and acknowledge his authority over her life

Everyone is walking on eggshells around Reborn and Yuka

All while still trying to be 'friendly' to her, the gall.

Either be 'compliments', attempts to small talk, bullshit advice, mafia business, or trying to befriend her, to make her care for those delusional fuckers...

They thought she would want anything with them????

She sneers and insults her official Guardians, those mindless sheep, avoiding them and denying them any true power of begin part of her 'inner circle'. The people start to notice how little she cares about her official Guardians and distrusted them all

The Alliance is even more unstable then after Xanxus’s coup, since their 'heir' and future head seen to be in hostile relationship with their current boss and clearly have no love or loyalty for the organization expected her to take over since she keep sending her loved ones away from it and refusing to let any of them join the Vongola. It a bomb wainting to explode. Some people keep telling Yuka she should just roll over and keep the appearence for the sake of everyone, others says she isn't worthy the throne and the kunoichi rolls her eyes and scoffs.

Xanxus still angry and wrathful at begin collared again in the second Ring Battles (who did Nono even get them to fight again? Probally threaten Lussuria and Squalo). So Nono and Iemitsu are stressed trying to reign no one, but two feral Stormy Skies that want his head in a silver plate and his body in a ditch. They miss weak little scared Tsuna

[dastanbladeswriter]

18. Souls Collide

Six months later, Matt was having lunch with his parents in their small kitchen. He had already polished off his plate of spaghetti, and as he settled back in his chair, he looked down at his hands on the white table.

Matt was dressed in gray sweats and a black hoodie. His parents, Monique and Basil, were sitting across from each other, still savoring their food. Monique wore a beige sweater and dark pants, while Basil had on a gray sweater and matching sweats. 

Matt looked lost in thought, and after sipping his water, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

«I'm moving out,» he announced, setting his glass down.

At Matt's words, Monique and Basil exchanged worried looks.

«Moving out? What are you talkin' about, Matt?» Basil asked, raising an eyebrow mid-bite.

«Uh, well... Martine and I decided to rent a little place nearby. We just need our own space,» Matt explained, leaning forward to sound more sure of himself.

Monique moved her plate aside, squinting at him.

«What do you mean you're moving in with Martine?» she snapped, glaring at him. «You're only twenty-five! You should focus on finding a better job first!»

Matt folded his arms and sighed, taking a moment to gather himself. After a second, he cracked his neck and answered.

«Martine and I have been together for a while now, and I love her. We're ready for this,» Matt said, meeting his mom's eyes.

«And how are you gonna support yourself with that dog-sitting gig?» Basil asked, raising his voice a bit.

Matt looked away, a little annoyed. Things hadn't been great between him and his dad lately, and Matt always felt like he didn't believe in him.

«Martine's workin' too; we'll make it work with our paychecks,» he shot back, his gaze now steady.

«Did you talk this over with Martine's parents?» Monique asked, tilting her head up.

«Yeah, they're cool with it,» Matt said, pressing his lips together.

«You're still gonna need to chip in here, though. Who do you think's payin' the rent on this place?» his dad replied, sounding annoyed.

«What?» Matt squinted.

«We can't keep up with the little welfare we're getting and without your share,» Basil said, keeping his head up and staring down at Matt, like he was trying to make him feel guilty.

«Yeah, Matt, you can't just leave,» Monique added, tilting her head.

Matt looked away from his parents again, visibly irritated.

«I've been giving you guys money for five years. I can't keep doing this till you're retired,» he said, raising his voice and looking at them both. «I gotta build my own life; that's my right!» he exclaimed, leaning forward a bit.

Stung by his words, Basil stiffened, got up, and took a few steps toward him.

«Your right?» he said, sneering. «Where's that written down?» he added, standing beside him.

Matt didn't know what to say. Things were heating up, but he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't let anything stop him—not even his dad.

«If you don't keep pitchin' in, you can forget about that inheritance I'll get when my aunt passes,» Basil threatened, his voice sharp.

Matt stood up, getting in his dad's face.

«Like I care. You can't keep me hostage,» he said, narrowing his eyes. «What've you done these past five years, huh?» he spat, raising his voice. «You haven't gotten a damn job! Always whining and trying to revive your dead online business, between beers and whiskey!» he shot back, his mouth open, teeth showing.

«How dare you?» his dad growled, grabbing a plate and chucking it at him.

The plate shattered near the fridge, but Matt barely flinched. Their dog, Jackie, started barking at the scene, but Matt picked her up and carried her to the other room, calming her down with a few pats. Then he walked back to the kitchen, stepping around the broken pieces.

«I'm not scared of gangsters, so I sure as hell ain't scared of you,» he said, his eyes cold.

«Then get out,» his mom replied with a nod.

«Yeah, and when things with Martine don't work out, don't you dare coming back here,» his dad added, heading to the door.

Matt stood still for a moment and narrowed his gaze, then he walked to his room, grabbed his packed bags, and knelt one last time to pet Jackie.

«Take care of yourself, Jackie,» he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Jackie seemed to get what Matt was saying, giving his hand a soft lick. Then he walked out of his room and headed for the open door, where his dad stood, still fuming. Right before he crossed the threshold, Matt slowly turned back to him.

«I'm gonna be a better father than you ever were,» he said in a low voice. «Marijan and Cyrus have done more for me than you ever did,» he added, eyes cold.

«Get lost, traitor. Don't ever come back,» his dad sneered, shoving him with an arm before slamming the door.

Matt held back his tears, wiping away the ones that slipped out with a handkerchief from his pocket. He walked to the park where he and Martine first met and found her waiting on the same bench. She was wearing a green blouse and jeans.

«What happened, Matt?» she asked, getting up and moving toward him, seeing the tears in his eyes.

He quickly wiped them away, trying to keep it together.

«They kicked me out,» he said, avoiding her gaze. «I knew it would end like this,» he went on, lips curling bitterly. «After everything I did for them, all the money I gave them, they just kicked me out. Those jerks!» he shouted, looking down.

Martine's eyes widened at his words; she knew things were rough with his parents but hadn't thought they'd go that far. She took his hands, trying to comfort him.

«I'm so sorry, Matt. But remember, you're here with me now, and you don't have to face this alone,» she said softly.

Matt finally looked up at her, his eyes still a bit teary.

«I know, Martine,» he started, looking at the bench and nodding a little. «I just feel like I failed,» he admitted, shaking his head. «I always thought one day I'd find a way to fix things with them. And now... I feel lost,» he said, wiping his eyes with his arm.

Martine stepped closer, cupping his cheek.

«You didn't fail, Matt,» she said, bringing her face close to his. «You tried your best, and they couldn't appreciate it,» she continued, looking past him at the trees. «It's not your fault.»

Matt took her hands and kissed them, closing his eyes. After a moment, he looked up at the sky.

«What now? We have our apartment, but everything feels so much harder than I expected.»

«Forget about them, Matt; focus on us now,» Martine said after taking a breath. «What's done is done.»

Matt nodded slowly and sighed. After all, there wasn't anything else he could do but look forward.

«You're right,» he replied with more conviction, shaking his head again. ��Thank you, Martine. I don't know how I'd handle all this without you,» he continued, giving her a kiss.

«And you're my hero,» she replied after the kiss. «We've got a new life, and most importantly, we've got each other. That's what really matters.»

Matt closed his eyes, tilted his head, and kissed her forehead.

«I love you,» he said, wrapping his hands around her head.

«I love you too, Matt,» she replied, resting her head on his chest.

After grabbing their bags, Matt and Martine headed to their new apartment. They had decided to rent it right across from the park where they first met. They wanted every time they looked out the window to remember that moment. A casual moment, like fate brought them together.

Matt grabbed both bags and sprinted up the stairs, making it to the first floor first and waiting for Martine. When she showed up, she held out the key.

«We made it,» Matt said with a grin before sliding the key into the lock.

The door swung open, revealing the apartment they'd always dreamed of. They scored it thanks to a buddy of Lewis, who had some connections in real estate.

The living room was pretty spacious, with an open kitchen and light wood furniture. A staircase led up to a loft, which was going to be Matt and Martine's bedroom. Two big windows let in loads of light, and there were plants on the windowsill.

Matt climbed the steps to the bedroom and dropped the bags next to the queen bed. Then he headed back downstairs, feeling kinda wiped; his legs were heavy. The fight with his parents was still fresh in his mind, and it was already 11 PM.

He turned to Martine, who was chilling on the black couch in the living room. Matt walked over to her.

«I'm beat, babe. Think I'm gonna hit the hay. Can we sort everything out tomorrow?» he asked, rubbing his forehead.

«For sure, that's cool. I'm tired too,» Martine replied, tilting her head a bit.

Matt reached out to help her up. Martine took his hand, but he lifted her instead.

«What are you doing? Haha,» she laughed as Matt grinned, holding her tight.

«Let's inaugurate the bedroom like this,» Matt said as he started walking.

He took his sweet time climbing the stairs, and once he got to the top, he gently placed Martine on the bed. It was a classic queen bed, nice and roomy. The pillows were white, and the gray blanket had a heart pattern.

«You were wiped out, huh?» Martine asked, watching him put on his pajamas, almost teasing him with her gaze.

«I've drained the last of my energy, don't even try it,» her boyfriend joked as he climbed into bed and kissed her.

Martine pulled her tablet out of her bag and powered it on, typing in her Netflix username and password to keep watching Breaking Bad, the show they were rewatching for the second time. Matt, though, didn't even make it twenty minutes before he knocked out. He always crashed halfway through an episode.

Look at him, he's like a little angel, Martine thought, watching Matt as he was already snoring. She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, but he didn't feel a thing. He was already deep in REM.

Suddenly, Matt found himself in a dark room; there wasn't much around him. It looked like an abandoned warehouse, reeking of blood. Then the dream started to clear up, and two figures began to take shape.

One was chained to a post, while the other sat across from him on a chair, arms crossed. The closer Matt got, the sharper the images became. There were bodies lying behind them, maybe dead bodies, but he couldn't make out any faces.

Wait... that's me, he thought as he neared the chained figure.

Then he turned his gaze to the blurred figure. He'd seen it before but couldn't fully remember. After a few more steps, the other's features started to become more defined. It was him. The same creature he had dreamed of years ago. When he was just a kid.

He had a bare chest and wore only dark jeans. His abs and pecs looked like steel, with veins popping beneath his dark skin. Spiked hair, dark skin, glowing copper scars, and most of all, those red eyes burning like fire.

«My powers... Gone...» the chained Matt muttered, clenching his fists.

Then he looked around until his gaze met his Doppelgänger's, who was grinning at him with a wicked smirk. His alter ego then got up from the chair and walked toward him slowly.

«How does it feel to be so powerless, Matt?» his Doppelgänger taunted, spreading his arms. «I think you know that feeling all too well, don't you?» he asked again, stopping right in front of his double and lifting his dark chin.

«Why all this? Why did we split? You said our bond would last forever,» asked the chained Matt, tilting his head forward.

Split? What the hell are they talking about?  thought the dreaming Matt, squinting his eyes.

He was close enough to hear them, but they didn't notice him. It felt like he was seeing the future. Actually, his other self looked older, maybe 28 or 30 years old.

«Nothing lasts forever, my dear,» the Doppelgänger answered, shrugging his dark shoulders. «Your fate wasn't to save this city; your fate is me. It always has been, Matt. And you're everything I hate,» he continued, narrowing his red eyes.

«You hate me? And why's that?» asked the chained Matt, blinking.

«It wasn't hate at first,» the Doppelgänger replied, turning to look out a broken window to his right. «But then I found out the truth,» he went on, turning back toward the chained Matt, making the crimson scars on his face and body glow. «My fate wasn't to help you fight the Cobras or the Spyders, but to become your greatest enemy,» he explained, crouching down in front of his double.

The two of them stared at each other for several seconds, the chained Matt's green-brown eyes locked onto the Doppelgänger's red ones. Then the chained Matt gritted his teeth, muscles straining.

«My... greatest enemy? You said we're the same person!» he exclaimed, leaning forward. «YOU SAID WE WERE ONE!» he yelled in his face.

The Doppelgänger smirked and stood up, turning around as he began walking through the warehouse. He stepped over the bodies scattered on the ground.

«True, but I'm the opposite of everything you are,» he shot back, shrugging. The dark entity then narrowed his red eyes, his mouth twisting into a sneer. «And so, I figured out that the more people you saved, the more you were loved, the more I had to take away from you,» he revealed, gesturing with his dark hands.

The chained Matt stayed silent, staring at the gray floor. His eyebrows furrowed, trying to make sense of it all, but it was no use.

«I'm the only one here who knows how to manipulate the darkness in your soul to get what I want!» the alter ego exclaimed, stepping closer to his counterpart.

What kind of madness is this?  thought the dreaming Matt, leaning in a bit to hear and understand better.

The chained Matt kept his eyes on his alter ego, and suddenly his face looked almost sad. Despair was creeping in, but then he remembered he couldn't let it end this way. He took a deep breath and tilted his head forward again.

The dreaming Matt then placed a hand on a wall, leaning against it.

Wait... he thought, watching the duo talk.

«So, the reason you ruined my life...» the chained Matt began to say, blinking. «Is it because you couldn't be me?» he asked, trying to stand up.

«I've become better than you!» yelled the Doppelgänger, stepping forward. «I'm the one thing you cannot stop, Matt,» he said, grabbing the chained Matt's chin and shoving him back.

The dreaming Matt woke up with a jolt, letting out a groan that woke Martine, who was sleeping beside him. He was leaning forward, eyes wide open, breathing heavily, his chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.

«Babe, what happened?» asked Martine, touching his right arm.

«I... I don't know,» he replied, turning to her with a terrified look.

He swallowed hard, squinting a little, trying to remember, but he only felt that angst. He blinked harder, but it didn't help.

«All I know is... it was terrifying,» Matt managed to say, mouth slightly open.

«Calm down, it was just a nightmare,» Martine whispered, stroking his arm gently before lying back down.

Matt remained sat there a bit longer. He needed to figure out what it was about. There was something familiar about that nightmare, something he'd seen before. Then he looked back at Martine, who'd already fallen back asleep, and tried to shake off the unease. But just before lying back down, he got a flash, like lightning right before his eyes.

«Ah!» Matt gasped, bringing a hand up near his left eye.

It was the scarred face of his Doppelgänger, staring at him with his chin down and a wicked grin.

What could it all mean?

I wanna hear what you think about this chapter! Drop your thoughts in the comments—I'm here to chat and will respond to everyone! Every bit of feedback is welcome. 🙌