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vyainide · 1 year ago

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ㅤㅤㅤgratefulness (i'm sorry, can this be over now?)ㅤ౨ৎㅤ12.9k

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oneㅤ/ㅤtwo synopsis. luffy loves you— you know this with how abundantly clear love is in every ministration of his outstretched hand and a grin— yet your traitorous heart demands more, even though you're in no place to give him your loyalty. you know this so you do not demand his love nor to be saved, even when met with a relentlessly stretched hand.

warning(s). gn! reader, hanahaki disease, but some creatively liberated variation of it, angst, hurt/some comfort, slow burn, but does it really count if nothing happens?, unrequited love, pining and the works, background character death, blood, violent imagery, vague allusion to an unspecified mental disorder that involves eating habits (pls be careful!!!), luffy tries his best to be kind but it's cruel, reader spirals 🙏; minimal editing and proofreading (these are basically my thoughts raw and unadulterated)

from vyon. the card game they play is a vietnamese one also known as smth like thirteen in english and has too many rules to explain but it doesn't really matter :3 i was a beast at that game though i fear; this fanfic has been in my drafts for so long, it also grew into too big of a project than it was meant to be. i also had to split this up into two parts, it was getting too long, i'm sorry ＞︿＜

do not repost / copy / translate.

Once you know Monkey D. Luffy, you'll know his heart not a few minutes after. He's welded the unmoving, burning ingot to his bicep, always on display due to his amassing collection of armless vests; rubber skin melted around the golden gem, oozing past the lines of his beating heart to staple it there, an anomaly on the expanse of skin not otherwise susceptible to bullets or cannons. Your captain is a man that lives with his heart on his tongue, always ready to dictate the lay of your next move with an irregular beat that drums against the skinned men of war and an impulsivity that makes his crew scramble after him exasperatedly; oxygen taken from his cerebral arteries to his brain are stained in the grease and oil that stick to the meat he handles so carelessly. In the same endearing way, he's careless with his heart, allows for the small stuff to momentarily prick his heart, for judgement to cloud into anger before it picks up on the bitter taste of agony.

It's always easy to get a frown onto Luffy's face. Feign disinterest in his stories; make yourself too busy to help him look for strange insects; force him to shower, scold him after he does something he wasn't meant to; keep him away from something he seems interested in; starve him for more than five minutes— he makes it all exceptionally too easy. You're not audacious enough to claim to know Luffy any more than the Strawhats, especially not those that he had met in East Blue; you try not to let it bother you that they managed to meet a younger Luffy who had so many holes in his defence, whose smile threatened through skin more, who had yet to find scars in his palm from how hard he had to clench his fists.

To you, it seems unfair that Luffy had managed to uncover so many of your firsts. His unwavering presence by your side as you learnt how hard it was to live on sea, the intonations of your screaming when a marine canon was pointed at you, to live so freely away from the confines of restrictive justice, how it felt to have a hand in yours to promise forever and then some. Luffy has no preferential treatment when it comes to people he loves; he treats them all the same, no hierarchy could dream to disrupt that.

With the same sandals he uses to stomp on the faces of Marine's, he could demand food from Sanji, money from Nami, Zoro to play with him— instead, you watch him whine Sanji, food and dissolve into a puddle when his cook orders him to wait, he allows Nami's fists to fall onto his head when he makes any financially impulsive decision (or even thinks them), and he idles himself with drawing on Zoro's face with Usopp and Chopper, with the previous two of them taking the psychical brunt of their consequences. (Chopper is let off with a mere promise that he won't join in with their shenanigans again when it involves making Zoro into a fool and a growing bump underneath his hat.)

Luffy, from second to fourth gear, is tender aggression when it is love.

His form is bizarrely respectful when the door opens and light dawns upon your face; you see him through the gaps of Nami and Sanji's legs and towering forms over him, his hands on his thighs and feet tucked underneath his bottom. He slurs out an I'm sorry that lets you know that his face is definitely messed up and then follows up with an I was hungry though!

Then Nami messes him up some more for his shitty justification.

She leaves him— some caricature of her anger— on the floor with her hands on her hips and Sanji trailing after her with hearts in his eyes at her dominant display of power. As she passes Brook, he asks for the colour of her underwear and earns himself the same treatment. It's then that you laugh. Luffy snapped his head up, following after the trembling air of your laughter and then calls out your name, the syllables are all messy around his swollen cheeks and a missing tooth that will come back after a few minutes but you cannot rid yourself of the thought that it's sticky with love that you only remember hearing when you were just a babe, screaming and crying in the arms of a tired and ill mother in a hospital. You were introduced to a group of midwives with same love you hear now, their idle finger catching into both your small hands; Luffy's hand dances across the air, breaking apart your laugh with urgency and catching onto your wrist.

You're not sure if it's you who had been pulled to him or if he'd managed to catapult himself into you but you both end up a mess on the floor regardless. Limbs tangled around each other in a wave as you both fall to the deck, Luffy does not correct the length of his arm and takes to wrapping the limb around you like a vine snaked around the trunk of a tree. You don't know a start nor an end as Luffy nuzzles his beat–up face on your shoulder. "Hey captain," you raise your head to look down on him, trying to wrench a hand through the tight spirals he's coiled around you.

"I'm hungry," he whines in lieu of a response, "and I'm bored, Usopp kicked me out after I ate one of his ketchup stars." He doesn't relent with his hold on you, simply loosening the coil that you're trying to work your hand through before tightening again once your arm makes it past to trap it against your side. You don't question the fact that Usopp's ketchup stars may be laced with gunpowder or what the small dose of gunpowder may have done to Luffy's internal organs.

You guess even Usopp has his limits when it comes to his childish captain. "I can't do a lot about either of those things if you're keeping me hostage here." He looks up at you, his exaggeratedly large lips in a pout that matches the swelling of his cheeks and then says your name again, like you’ve done him wrong. It's a disordered collection of the letters again but you find you can't really do anything to fight against it. Instead, green tendrils sprout from your trapped arm, each vine wrapped in a light of leaves and strain against his extended limb before he gives in and, instead, laughs as he wraps his rubber arm around the spindly, twisted branches splitting open layers of skin on your bicep. His skin coloured against the green runner keeps the bine from wilting down to meet gravity.

You let Luffy do whatever he wants, with an expression that you're not sure you're too familiar with etched out on the lines of your face. Thinking back on it, you could've simply done as Nami had or Usopp, ignore or scold him enough into submission but his fingers catch one of the fronds and it curls between the meat of his fingertips, reaching out to tickle his palm and something soft blooms inside you. You know it must be you, not the work of your devil fruit, because as much as you've tried in your lacklustre pursuit of beauty, you've never been able to sprout any kind of flowers.

When Luffy finally lets you go, you find your way into the kitchen and give Sanji a smile. You apologise for interrupting him and tell him that you know that lunch had been served only an hour ago but, if he wasn't too busy, you were still a little peckish. Sanji shoots up immediately and asks you what you've got a taste for— you assure him any leftovers from lunch will do and he tells you, though this doesn't come as any surprise, that Luffy had worked his way through any grain of leftovers with a laugh. You laugh along with him and well, you seemed to be craving meat right now.

The plate he prepares seem to be more about quality rather than quantity, with sauce underneath the red meat drizzled across the white ceramic, a slab of meat already cut into bite sized pieces for you and a decorative herb stuck between the fatty slices but when the light oozes down into the stretch of meat, you don't think Luffy will complain too much.

You, of course, were right about that.

The shattering grin he greets you (the plate of meat, however small it seemed) with gives you the faint smell of sticky rain drenched in the light of the sun, and you almost give him your hand when he reaches out for the plate. Brook's guitar strums in the background and your heart shakes in time with his strings and Luffy's incessant chewing.

You've really no problems with Usopp asking you to help him with target practice, it's fairly common for you to help the crew with their unique fighting style— save Nami and Franky for fear of losing your life with their less than particular aimed area of damage— it's easy enough really. You don't even have to be mentally present for it; shaking through layers of flesh, vines grow across the deck of the Sunny and rise up straight to tower over Usopp as he fixes his goggles over his eyes. You keep a quarter of your mind instilled in every chloroplast that shivers across the skies so you can keep them moving but the other three quarters are focused on the card game you play with Robin, Chopper, and Franky.

You hear the snapping of elastic and your finger twitches against the back of playing cards as the particular vine shot to the left, glancing curiously at Chopper's hand across from you when he turned to Franky and accuses him of looking at his cards.

"It's not my fault!" Franky frowned, fixing his comedically small glasses to perch on his metal nose. "Your cards just happen to be in my view when I'm looking at the pile 'cause you're tiny!"

Chopper takes to this horribly (you reshape a vine that has fallen to one of Usopp's stones and keep it relentless across the wave of air) and he grows into the much less cute and broader, more human version of himself to hold his hand out of Franky's view. (Two vines snap together and they take the path to slice through air to where Usopp stands, you hear the cracking of wood as Usopp shouts at you, saying he only wanted to focus on offence. An apology is drawn out with the green arm in the air.)

"Ivy," your eyes flicker to Robin and she gestures to the pile of discarded where the two of spades had been placed on top. "It's your turn." You glance down at your hand, eyes flickering over the collection of 7's in your hand.

"Bomb." (You feel a vine break apart into pieces, think about the fact that it's lucky you've no nerves attached to the tendrils, and keep the one down to give Usopp a little win.) Franky curses your name as Robin chuckles.

Chopper glances at the four 7's with a sense of wonderment that you're sure is too dramatic for the moment. "No wonder I had no sevens!" You give him a sly grin and watch Robin pass her turn, ignoring Franky's levelled glare behind his glasses.

In the end, Robin wins anyways, ridding herself of her hand with her final card being the two of hearts. The loss is taken bitterly by both you and Franky though you think Franky definitely takes it worse than you do as when he stands to sulk away, cards fall out of his speedos, and they leave a trail after him. Robin, in all her morbidity, laughs behind a hand as you and Chopper drop your jaws in disgust.

Chopper collects the cards, hesitating with the ones that had been on Franky until Robin points out that you've all played many rounds and there's a chance that all of them had shared the same fate. (Another vine shutters down to the floor, broken apart and particles flown across the deck.) The cards slowly fall to the floor as Chopper cries out in disgust. Shaking your head with some colourful amusement, you use the two vines fallen to pick up the cards and start shuffling them.

Responding to Chopper's call, Luffy shoots his way from Sunny's figurehead. "What're you guys doin'?" He falls graciously to where Franky had previously been sitting; his eyes are ever so impatient to glance over the cards being shuffled. "Oh," he says with great interest, "are you guys playing 'go fish'?" He leaned towards you— the cards in your possession, actually— and blinks at the shuffling. "Lemme in!"

"We weren't playing 'go fish', Luffy." The little doctor has since calmed down, taking a seat between Luffy and Robin and shaking his head. "We were playing—" he turns his head up to Robin, to which she supplies 'bài tiến lên' with the intricate accents and all, "that!"

A flash of thinking places itself on Luffy's face, crossing his arm and tapping the side of his sandals on the deck, then it's gone. "Let's just play 'go fish' then."

Chopper whines, saying that 'go fish' is boring and that Luffy always snatches more than one card from other people's hands, which is cheating, and that he doesn't want to play.

Luffy turns to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed at the dip where his nose bridge starts and then straightened out towards the end. The two vines that had been expertly dodging all of Usopp's shots and taunting him by doing silly dances and twisting into words in the air both crumple down to the floor at the same time, they follow the curve of your spine as you double over, a breath stuttering in your throat. You hear Usopp call your name and the deck of cards slip out from the vines that had been shuffling this entire time, your hand wraps around your throat and you hack out a cough you've managed to choke on.

"Are you dying?" Chopper shoots up, frantic as you keep coughing and choking— both violent in temperament, and scampers around, shouting for a doctor.

Footsteps tap closer as a shadow forms over you, Usopp's hand patting your back ferociously comes after the sound of shoes stop.

The blur that came with tears invading your eyes gives you the confidence to look at Luffy again before you're calling Chopper to a stop. "I'm fine, just choked on air."

You don't mention how it felt like you were breathing through a cheesecloth, how your lungs feel so restricted with every inhale as you all compromise on 'chase the ace' and how easier it feels when Usopp pushes his way between you and Luffy, too intimidated to pick from Robin's hand; when you all finish up for dinner, Robin is looking at you in a way that makes you think she's caught onto how you've been struggling.

Dinner is a strange ordeal. It's characterised with its usual events: Luffy sneaking his hands into people's plates though his stands full, Usopp trying to hold his plate out of his way, Zoro tending to his glass bottle of beer, Sanji making some quip about Zoro's show of alcoholism, Nami getting increasingly annoyed by the noise around her, Brook's laughter, Zoro escalating the situation with Sanji, Chopper screaming when Luffy clears Usopp's plate and then goes for the doctor's, Robin watching the scene with the patience of a saint, Franky pretending he was better than the rest, Usopp exacting revenge on Luffy by swapping their plates. It all ends with Nami telling them all to shut up and Luffy taking one final chicken leg from Zoro's plate. You stare down at your plate and count the missing bits, Luffy hasn't really touched any of the potatoes or asparagus, so you finish them up.

Two chicken thighs sit in stark contrast to the plate, thinking about having them anywhere near your mouth makes you a little sick for some reason, the weight of them in your stomach, the taste of caramelised skins, crisped with wells of juice sat next to a tinge of burnt flesh; you push the plate over to Luffy and detest the way he can take the colour of well–done oranges between his teeth and not care about the juice dribbling down his chin.

Luffy says thanks with his mouth full of chicken; Nami glares at him and turns a more concerned face to you (that also makes you sick) and inquires about you not eating. You mumble out some excuse about not being hungry, not feeling well, having a little bit of a headache, feeling tired— something along those faux lines, you don't remember but you remember that you don't tell them the truth exactly. "Sorry Sanji," you fix into your shitty excuse after, running a hand through your hair, to make yourself feel better about the entire ordeal.

He offers to make you a more palatable porridge or soup instead.

You take a cigarette and a red apple, going to bed hungry and angry at some unknown thing that brews on the tip of your tongue.

The next island is of great interest to Luffy.

The entire crew knows that its history nor culture was not either reason behind his excitement, only the mere prospect of digging his sandals into new, uncharted land is why he's running around the deck, filling up the empty spaces with bubbling laughter. Sanji finishes up bentos for those that are leaving, taking unnecessary extra care with Nami’s, and wishing he had it in him to starve Zoro whilst Nami is giving everyone an allowance. You take two bentos, yours and Chopper's, and head out onto the deck. Luffy only seemed momentarily sad that you were going with the doctor but bounced back immediately after when the trees come closer enough to intimidate so you push down the offer to join him instead. Franky joins up with Usopp, Luffy'll run off alone regardless of who he ends up going with, Nami ends up going with Zoro (to Sanji's displeasure), and you and Chopper make plans to find a pharmacy and a library for Robin.

Being around Chopper is easy enough with this unsettling prick of poison that's forced minimal responses, curt words, a flurry of tiredness, a sickening chill through your days recently. The little doctor is a lot more mindful of changes in mood, it's not any imminent injury either so he doesn't press to know why. Out of guilt (for being a brooding asshole lately), you ask him about his rumble balls and all his different forms. He answers cheerily and you can only pick out every other word with a persistent headache as the smell in the air changes from salty skies and bloody fish to sweetened foods and something unfamiliarly clean.

It's a bright island. You hear a faint bell in the distance that is traced over with the sound of children and stall owners; Chopper's hooves rhythmically sound beside you on the pavement and you find yourself counting them in groups of four. "Ah, there." You pick up your head and turn to follow the direction of Chopper's eyes. A sign is hung on the side of the building, the library. "Robin wanted a book of North Blue diseases for some reason," Chopper mumbles to himself as you two push open the door.

It's a small bookstore, walls lined with books and the paths carved with more standalone bookcases. "North Blue diseases?" You repeat, confused, "do they have North Blue exclusive illnesses?"

Your question goes unanswered, though it looks like it opens a vault of new questions for Chopper. Books aren't of great interests to you, so you follow behind Chopper as he walks through each section and grab whichever book he tells you to bring down for him. On the way back, you tell Chopper to keep going and change your course in search of something you're not too sure of.

You stray away from the town centre and head deeper through the small alleys of the town, there's no destination in mind; without the urgency of a fights and with the domesticity of a small knit community, you wander adrift. There's a dampness in the air to the walk around a shadowed hide of the place that loosens up the tension below your ribs, many different eyes follow after your form as the heel of your shoes click against a null path; shadows ooze around the soles of your shoe and lacquer up between the carved maze of black rubber of your soles until you find your way into a dead end.

It's a little bit of a cliché to be met with a ragtag group of delinquents when you turn to go back. Your eyes trace over them. In the hand of the one closest to you sits your wanted poster.

Something blooms inside you again— it's a much more pleasant feeling than the unmoving sap of ire that's been invading lately. Each man before you is physically bigger, towering over you ominously and shadows eating you but they all have swords and guns in their hands and that's why they lose. You, to the detriment of all life around you, are a weapon in and of itself; you choke out the vitality from others and steal their nutrients. They strained against their confines as their skin blossoms through shades of blooms, you are not the merciful rubber of a human, so your constraints don't relent, they squeeze and squeeze until the bark splits apart, until blood is cut off at the source, until they wither, until you are full.

On the way back, you buy a gift for everyone with the money you hadn't used and when they take to it, all in their varying degrees of joy, you feel less bad about the dead end alley full of brothers and sons. You tell yourself, handing Zoro a gift of alcohol, if not them, then it'd have been you.

You end up staying anchored to the island for a week to your displeasure. The longer you're stuck there, the closer you are to exploding; you always keep an eye out on the log pose strapped to Nami's wrist like you could quicken the process if you stare enough. Usopp starts avoiding you out of fear you'll blow like a poorly constructed cannon, Zoro makes you train with him to see if it'll help blow off some steam, Sanji brings you iced drinks at a rate that keeps you dizzy but you always feed it to Luffy or redirect it to Chopper's or Usopp's office with a little note.

On the third day, you follow in Zoro's example and sprawl out on the deck to rest your tireless mind. You've always wondered how sleep was ever a possible option for him when the feet thundering across the deck came with obstructive vibrations, no doubt slapping any chance of sleep away from his mind, but you find that it's almost pleasant. Beats all from familiar loves translates through the groves of wooden planks and etch through the back of your spine, you feel a bone fall back into place after Nami's heels against the floor and the thunderous kick that lands where Zoro was standing manages to work its way up your head to ease a headache.

The sun burns cries into your eyes and the skies move fluidly, they don't ripple as clouds shrivel against a light blue you're unfamiliar with; even as you close your eyes, you continue to feel the burn of the sun. The slapping of weaved straw against a sticky, sweaty sole then the deck comes as you slip into sleep.

Dreams have never been so amicable enough to become a recurrent in your life; more often than not, you're shown memories all blended together into a mess that leaves you sick, the abhorrent now and the nostalgic then bleeding past their confines until you see your mother stood next to that deceitful Marine admiral, both with that same look in their face. You wake up with a start when a loud bang scours its way through a flurry images you're unfamiliar with and then your body escapes you. Your head weighs with the heaviness of the bodies dropped to the floor, arms cold as if dipped into the river Styx, bones locked in place with a restrictive pain, muscles burning, aware of every breath that shivers through your suddenly odd body.

"Owww," three Luffys blur around each other as you pushed a hand to the floor to straighten up, you try blinking away the other two, but they're glued to the captain reflecting in your eyes; he looks down at what he's tripped on and follows it back to you. Your hand is met with something curved in shape when you go to push yourself up and when you look down, you see vines underneath you. You realise then that a burst of them had grown beneath you, splitting through the lawn deck and uplifting some of the planks underneath the greenery and inching upwards towards the guard rails of the ship. They take the form of something you think you met in your most recent sleep.

Luffy has managed to crawl his way towards you in the time you spend wondering why your devil fruit had been acting up— in your sleep no less and he wraps a hand around your ankle to get your attention. "Hey, you're really cold." He pointed out, eyes flickering down to the flesh between his fingers and then trailing his fingers up your thigh as he shifts closer to you on his knees.

The touch makes you violent and tender. "Really?" You managed to puff out, giving too much air back to the world with how much you're panting, "I feel a little warm though."

Luffy hums, clapping his hand over your cheeks with gentleness he only shows to those he loves, and it feels wrong. You get an itch underneath your skin that urges you to move, move, move but you can only push Luffy away with a ferocity he'd never shown you as you tremble under the bursting of violent air hacking up your throat, your shoulders strain as you wrapped your arms around your stomach, trying to heave out something that wasn't there.

Luffy scrambles back immediately, not caring for you shoving him away, and soothes away the rattling of your core with his clammy hands on your arm. "Are you sick?"

No, you think as a retch comes up your mouth; maybe, you correct as the path is marked by drool slipping down your chin and tears streaking across your cheeks. You shake away Luffy again. He's less submissive this time, his legs open over yours to plant his knees by your thighs. You hear him call for Chopper and it's obvious he has something of a frown marked on his face; you keep burning beneath your skin, but Luffy keeps rubbing his palms over your arms like you're cold.

You realise what your vines had drawn underneath you when Chopper comes out, fretting over you as he takes Luffy's place close to you. A grave. The image makes you laugh as the reindeer instructs his captain to haul you up after you'd ignored his inquires on if you could walk; your arm bends around the shape of Luffy's shoulder and your laughter erratically convulses into a collection of coughs from the skin on skin high.

You forced into bed rest after Chopper does a preliminary round of tests on you and declares you've simply gone down with a cold. You take to the diagnosis apprehensively, though in Chopper's defence, how was he meant to accurately diagnose you if you don't tell him all your symptoms? Instead, you sit in his office and spend the minutes, all alone, trying to retch out the feeling of having a piece of hair down your throat; you claw at the blanket and keep hacking until you've got a blanket full of tears and spit. The feeling does not pass.

At lunch, you get a visit from Franky who comes by to complain that you've made unnecessary work for him. "—seriously, how did you manage that in your sleep? Were you having a nightmare?" He ranted, legs crossed and leaned back in the visitor chair in a way that pushes his skinny, hairy legs close to your face.

Scrunching up your face, you sit up. "It was the future." You rebut, in between all his fantastical stories of his nightmares and talking about how he'd never attack Sunny even if Chopper grew a mechanical, giant arm and overthrew Luffy to become their captain. "A future," you correct yourself before turning to Franky with eyes judgemental, "are you scared of Chopper?"

"You weren't there at Enies Lobby," he tells you, which serves as a cruel reminder of sorts. You think about all the scars you've seen littered on the crew's skin and wonder which ones they've collected while they were with Luffy and who knows of which. The faint, protruding marks underneath Nami's tattoo, the stitches around Zoro's ankles, the ones pulled across his chest; you wonder if Sanji's got one hidden underneath his bangs. "The future?" Franky repeats after a moment, "are you a prophet?"

"It's a working theory," you brush off instead. "Though I can see in my mind's eye that Luffy is currently eating all the food and you’ll be left to starve if you don't go back."

Franky scrambled up from the seat not a second after your words.

With him gone, you settle back onto the bed and wonder about too many things to recall.

Between the hours after lunch and before dinner, Luffy comes by. He settles himself on the bed and forces you up as well, the shifting causes another cough to burgeon in your throat and you turn your head the other way to spit it out in an uncontrolled group of four. "You're not feeling better?" He frowns.

You see now that he's holding two pieces of barbequed meat in his hand, he's got the bone in his palm as he holds it upright like a sword, juices from the flesh dripping down to his hand and the smell gives you a headache. "Do you want this?" You move your eyes to Luffy, he's got his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips straightened out in a line when you don't answer. "Both?" He looks over at you, then the meat, and then you. "You," he swallows, "you can have them," his knuckles turn red around the bone, "since you need energy and you're sick." You think he's trying to convince himself to give them up.

You reached out and watch Luffy's face turn sour as his expression squeezes altogether around a midpoint trapped in his nose; you retract your hand and watch his face relax and his body unwind, you think he's moved his hand back a little. You repeat it again a few more times until laughter comes up and dislodges the uncomfortable feel of hair set deep in your throat. "It's fine, Luffy, you can have 'em."

"Really?"

"Mhm, go for it."

He moans around a bite of meat, crying your name as he chews and says thank you. The feeling is back as soon as it left.

No one comes to visit after that. Chopper comes by before he heads off to bed to make sure you're all set for the night and tells you that he expects to be woken up if you feel any symptoms get worse. You agree to his conditions, though can barely make yourself seem like you were taking him seriously with his cute face scolding you, but it seemed to work well enough as he's gone after he leaves a cup of water by your side. Sleep lingers around the corner, shirking away from your twitching fingertips and restless eyes; you give up after a few minutes, thinking about Robin who'd been thrown on watch tonight.

After going back and forth on the details, you bundle up yourself in the blanket (not wanting to have to mimic any semblance of serious guilt to get through Chopper's less than intimidating scolding if you get any sicker in the morning) and wander to the deck. The darkness of the sea would be safe for you, twisting around every limb extended to grope your way through your chosen path and oozing out from strands of hair to empty at your feet if not for the lamp of the moon ahead of you. Its light a forecast of tragedy, reflecting off a blade that would drive through the blood of a man who faced an unlikely love with only disgust and betrayal. "Robin?" The light hangs onto your word with a vehemence to uncover your unjustifiable deeds.

"Ivy," a shudder of surprise rattles your head to duck to your shoulders as you turn around. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

You give Robin a frown, tugging your lips down. "Yeah, my weakened bones nearly fell to the floor." She huffs a laugh. "Please announce yourself before you appear." Robin traces over your palish face and your features soften into a smile when your eyes meet.

"Can't sleep?" She asks once you two settle at the side of the Sunny where you'd napped earlier today, some of your vines still wedged between planks and parts of the floor haphazardly missing. You lean your back against the side of the ship and lower your eyes to the floor.

It's a total void, welcoming you back home. "No," you answer, a little breathless. The moon doesn't shuttle into the hole of the deck and something reaches a hand out for you between the atoms of a black hole. Roots twist out, easing close to your feet and sinking beneath the soles of your shoes. "I napped a little earlier." It's safe.

Robin hummed— I know rattles through her hum— and her elbow falls onto the guard rail of the ship. For the next few moments, you regret coming out. Robin's always been more receptive to the details and fine lines; it's not surprising that she can nitpick through a flurry of fronts and covers to the feelings you want to hide. They beckon out to her, wanting to fill that hole that's grown smaller with every day she wakes up to the open seas and the lively sound of her crew. "Chopper said you were sick?"

"A cold," you sniffle, bringing the blanket closer to you. Finding some semblance of confidence inside you, your eyes flicker over to Robin but she isn't looking at you— only turns when she feels your gaze levelled on her. You hesitate, searching for something to say and land on extending an arm and opening the blanket to invite her into your bundle. "You cold?"

She laughs, "it's fine, you should go back in if you've got a cold though." Her head tilted with a smile, "it'll be bad if the night air makes you worse."

Not wanting to find yourself softened in moonlight nor her eyes, you nod and bid her a goodnight before shivering your way back into your room. The door opens and light from Sunny's hallway is swallowed into the darkness of your room before it's banished out with the slam of your door, you shuffle around odd things thrown on the floor and slip into bed.

Your sleep is broken through with intervals with coughing, curling into yourself, shivering still though you burn in the night like a sibling of a star. When you wake up, sometime in the afternoon, you're heaving and reaching out your arms all around your duvet to haul together the skin that feels like it's melted down. Your palms prick against the leaves of vines that have overtaken your room, they fluoresce around your body and branch outwards to all corners of your room. The mess all blur together as your brain thrashes in your head with every splutter, you shake and twitch, trying to make sense of anything. Skin burned raw as you attempt to kick away the shrubbery that's keeping the blanket contorted around your body.

Your throat skinned and crude with its imminent thoughts of water.

A hand reached back blindly to grope at your bedside table for the cup that Chopper left for you last night. What you find instead is the burning touch of the sun, it seeps through the micro wounds stabbed through lines of your fortune and inflames every nerve straight to your heart. Your hand snaps back towards your body, the bones shivering from the imminent heat. Your entire body twitches at different paces, an invasive and hungry need drowns your senses. You need water, you need not for this to happen, water, you need for your sleep to be calm, you need to stop burning, you want to stop losing control, water first. You want water. Water— you turn your head to find the water, you need— Luffy?

Luffy is sat on a chair that you don't remember being there and when you look a little closer, you see that your vines had granted him a throne to comfortably lay on, other than that, they avoid him like the near plague. His body is leaned forward, his chest laid against the side of your mattress and arms crossed on your bed to sleep on like a pillow. You retch up some acid and, like the bowed head of a priest, a gentle petal disrupts the stream, flowing against the tide. It's a beautiful purple colour that's light against the transition to white towards the middle and an eye-catching yellow streaking against the white; lines of a deeper hue stretch through the petal and it's oddly reminiscent of veins.

The petal sits on the puddle of stomach acid that warms your thighs, your head bowed down to stare at it; you feel your soul unfurl at the sight of it, branches stretched outwards over a riverside, the heavy head of buds pulling weighted branches down to drink from the stream. Everything else blurs with a ripple, the petal is withstanding no matter no much you try blinking away an oncoming headache. The river near dries up in your attempt to wash down this unnerving disgust; you hunger for more.

Little changes when you find out what this 'cold' truly was. The lighting in Sunny's library is several shades warmer than the light of the sun, it draws upon the hunched shoulders down to your back as you tilt your head to hear the bones crack under your ear. Four syllables, that's all your death is. A lot of words are four syllables. Anonymous; unfortunate; hilarious; adventurous; hanahaki. It doesn't mean a lot by itself, so you try giving it some context. You pretend to tell Chopper that you're dying, you have hanahaki and that it's something he can't cure in a way you'll accept and you still feel nothing. You think about Chopper's face. He adamantly tells you that he'll cure you, he'll do it. The you in your imagination tells him no. Faced with your refusal, Chopper cannot do anything. In the end, it is a grave that cures you.

Death, as it stands, was something you had accepted when you stepped onto a pirate ship. Even someone with as stubborn a character as Zoro could be welcomed in by death, even Luffy. For a while, you wonder about death. The air in the room pauses as if to grace you with the silence to ponder on it, all you hear is the sound of your own breathing.

The closest thing to death comes searching for you a few minutes later.

You've always been interested in Brook. A skeleton with nothing but a sword; he has no lungs yet still sings, no heart and still smiles, dead but human in all his actions and behaviours. "There you are." He sneaks up behind you, bones falling onto your shoulder as you think, he smiles down at you. "Luffy asked if I’d seen you earlier.” He looms over you for a moment before he's straightening back up and calling out loudly, "but I'm a skeleton so it's not like I have eyes to see anyone anyways!"

It's the two syllables 'Lu–ffy' that shakes you the most. You stifle a cough in your chest and feel it tear through your ribs instead, searching for a path out. "For what?" The breaths rattle in your chest and shudder through your words.

"He wanted to show you a beetle." He takes the seat next to you, peering down at the picture book that you have open. You wait for him to make a comment about seeing what you were reading before disregarding it all with a lack of eyeballs so he wasn't seeing it really but he doesn't say anything, so you're forced to talk instead.

"Brook."

"Yes?"

It takes a single breath to prepare you to say this, it's warm and evident that you've not yet truly succumbed to your illness. "Do you see yourself as dead?"

Death is the art of those who do not live. It's something that keeps people tethered to the moment; it's the one thing that keeps humans humane. It's evidence you've lived, no matter how full nor how long. She's beautiful in her own right.

"I cannot see myself as anything because I am a skeleton with no eyes!"

Brook does not get to elaborate because Luffy shuttles in moments later, whispering loudly. (He'd learned somewhere that you're meant to be quiet in a library when he was younger but his whispers still manage to shake the room somehow.) "You're here! I found a beetle to show you!" He tip–toes to your side, "what're you reading— oh, hi Brook! The flowers here are pretty!" He points a finger down to a sunflower; his index covers an entire petal and he strokes it upwards to the middle. "Do you think they're edible?"

He turns to you with a smile.

You meet him with the same, "their seeds are." He gasps and picks up the book to scour through the letters in search of a name of these seeds. You take in a shuddering breath and when you feel another urge to cough, you cannot stop it.

When vines splatter around the room, they uproot the place; they've always been disruptive in this way. A wave of them washes various bouts of furniture to the floor, through the pounding of your ears, you hear the sound of books thudding as green appendages snake through bookcases and rattle them at the base; Brook's chair collapses as a vine chokes out one of its legs into splinters, the world blurs into a hue of greens and purples. A hand reaches from down in your throat, you heave around gaps of allowance for air and gag, cough, retch up more acid and some tea that Sanji brewed earlier this morning in lieu of breakfast. It's unpleasant. It's ugly in a way death should not be, though you guess the dead don't get to choose how to live in the same way the living cannot choose their death.

You're hauled off to Chopper again.

Chopper's voice comes as the hollow sounds of keys on an old piano. He does another round of tests on you— this set lasts a little longer than the previous and he takes extra caution with some. He finds that your heart is a little faster than it should be, he nitpicks at the bluish tint around your fingers and notes the concerning amount of weight you've lost in the past few weeks. When he asks you, what's wrong, you tell him that that's what he should be telling you.

Hypoxia; another four syllables for your cause of death. "Some of the symptoms are there," Chopper frowns, mumbling to himself. "It's when your tissues aren't getting enough oxygen, do you have difficulty breathing?"

You placed your cheek into your palm, elbow on Chopper's desk. "You're a pretty good doctor, Chopper."

The effect is immediate, he starts blushing and kicking his legs in his seat, a hoof goes to rub at the back of his head and nervous laughter comes from him. "That isn't distracting me at all, you bastard." You smiled and watched the compliment break any semblance of professionalism in him.

He gets back on track a little while later, placing a stethoscope on your chest and asking you to cough. You're not sure exactly what he's looking for but you give a soft cough into your elbow and you can say for certain— just based off the way he jumps back and looks at you a little quietly for a second, it's nothing good. Chopper spends a few minutes looking at your fingertips, then your lips, then some other parts of skin already exposed and humming to himself, troubled.

For now, he says, he wants you to try not to exert yourself— maybe leave fighting to everyone else and focus on resting until he can figure out a better way to confidently diagnose you. His lips are pulled into a frown, hands in his lap and trying his best to be professional and keep his emotions at bay. Before you know it, your hand is on top of his pink hat and fondly rubbing over the material softly. "Thanks Chopper, I'll keep that in mind."

He nods. You hesitate for a second before you're getting up to leave so that everyone else can see that you're not dying— or maybe you should tell them you are, you're not sure you could take another session of Franky accusing you of destroying the Sunny to create more work for him.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and twists, stopping when Chopper speaks again. "You're not hiding something from me," he accuses gently, "are you?"

Your hand tightens around the doorknob. A flash of that imaginary Chopper comes back to you— heartbroken and confused at your refusal to be cured— you steal an unnecessarily large breath from the world. "I get sudden cravings for sweet things if that means anything."

Chopper, unbeknownst to you, takes those words and carves them true and raw into himself. His eyes are unwilling to leave you for more than necessary during the times you eat together, he watches you push aside the food on your plate, tearing small bits of meat off the bone to chew on it for a couple minutes too long before swallowing. He makes note of the way you have no problems finishing up everything but any sort of meat, sliding them over to Luffy, or one of his victims.

You're met with another blossom soon after lunch. You've made a bad habit of leaving the table early to escape the smell and resign yourself to the open deck, sprawling out on the grass like Zoro usually does. You're certain you're about to fall asleep shivering but the slap, slap, slapping of your captain's sandals are nearing closer so your brain kicks awake with a start; your eyes twitch, eyelashes shuddering in the wind. The darkness over your eyes morphs into a shadow of Luffy hovering over you, head tilting with a hand on his hat— your mind supplies you with the frown— and then you hear him taking a step back and sitting down next to you.

A troubled melody hums through his lips and when you open an eye to peek at him, you see his hands wrapped around his ankles, legs loosely crossed; he turned back to you and you quickly close your eyes. Here is where you finally learn that when Luffy touches, he's never placated with a simple tap, a light knocking between skin— no, he must stroke, he drags his fingers up the side of your thigh, he shivers from the coldness of your flesh and, even then, crawls closer. Then he's silent for a worrying amount of time and for a moment, curiosity takes you over. You find yourself wanting to draw light upon the disgusted features when he's met with someone he thinks close to him is growing closer and closer to a grave amongst the roots.

He leans his forehead against yours whilst you shuffle through the despicable crawl of your heart through your bones, something shifts in you and when you reach to itch at your side, it dislodges. It takes no more than a simple flip for your entire world to shift; you think you saw Luffy hovering over you momentarily before you had snapped to the side.

A fragment of the world greets its end.

Something strangles you, a hand of a giant pressing two fingers against the sides of your neck until everything in you bursts and splatters against parts that have gone unknown until now. There's nothing new to the tremor of vine that erupts through your skin, bubbling through the surface of flesh like a geyser; the tentacles claw their way your throat until you're choking around them, searching for an allowance for air. Your knees shuffle up to find some balance, head ducked to meet the lawn across the deck and elbows digging deep into the dirt. Your spluttering comes in time with the sound of Luffy calling your name, shouting for Chopper; there's a knot tied inside your mouth, you shake away tremors and tears all the same. You erupt yet there's nothing to be burnt, it's only ash that leaves your mouth— only the colourful petals of the wisteria plant that wash over the green of the open deck, burnt in hues with blood.

The next island is a spring island, known for their sweet peaches and sweeter music.

You watched Luffy devour two peaches in his hands, the ripe skin melting underneath his teeth— pale with a dusted blush until it snapped into a bloody red, melted at the pit. Then he's gone with a rustle of mikan trees as you held out a basket for Nami to delicately place her mikans in; apparently, she'd managed to catch the attention of some peach vendor with her sweet tangerines and swindled the poor man out of his money for a basket.

The streets are lined with lively hums and a strumming of odd instruments, music escapes through every crevice of a worn-down building as Luffy jumps from stall to stall, drooling over the goods before you're beckoning him back with his lunchbox and a promise of meat after you finish this errand for Nami. On your way to the stall, you hear faint chattering that doesn't interest you but Luffy straightened up beside you and turns to stare at the people as they argue on who had managed to grow the biggest peach this year.

You sigh, grabbing hold of Luffy's collar when he stops to stare at them and drag him off to the stall vendor who had fallen victim to Nami's schemes. The exchange is easy enough— give him the basket (ignore the fact that Nami had managed to make it look like it was overflowing by artfully bunching up a cloth on the bottom and filled gaps between the fruits with flowers) and make sure you've got the correct amount of money. It's when Luffy asks the stall vendor who has the biggest peach this year that things begin to go downhill.

Rather than answering Luffy's question, the man goes on a tangent about some kind of festival for a God and how the biggest peach will be the offering to said God this year— apparently, Shumi (the woman who owns the fabrics shops) had managed to get her hands on this, that, or the other to help her husband grow a peach large enough to bring doubt to the fact that Gyupuri had managed to grow the largest peach (again) this year.

Luffy insists on tracking them both down to help the people come to a decision as he wiped away the drool on his chin. Resigned, you managed to find Shumi first with her shop being the only one in town that sold fabrics and she denies you both permission to see the peach; Gyupuri, on the other hand, is more than happy to show you to the peach he grows. He takes you straight out of town, into the forest, and then up the mountain to where there's a clearing full of nothing but flesh coloured peaches.

As you listen to Gyupuri's story on how he was merely taking after his father to grow these strangely sized peaches, you have to keep Luffy in your hold so he doesn't go running to the giant peach and take a bite out of what could be for a God. Somehow though, he manages to get a handful of flat peaches when you weren't looking and when you attempt to apologise to Gyupuri, he doesn't seem to be fazed, shoving a few more peaches into your hand and telling you it's fine.

"So, who is this God anyway?" Luffy asks, his legs wrapped around your waist and chin hooked on your shoulder as he leaned back, satisfied with cheeks full of the peach you were holding in your hand. You turn to give him a look, but he merely stares at you back.

The people here must have made a unanimous decision to answer questions from the left side of the field because Gyupuri only tells you the name of this God when he drags you and Luffy up a hill to stare at a statue of this God carved out of generic stone.

To be polite, you call the statue pretty; Luffy feels no need to be polite, so he says it's not really. When you look at him to furrow your eyebrows at him, he's already looking at you.

When you're back on the ship, money handed to Nami, you think about that moment so much that it grows moss in your mind and vines burst through the crevices of the worn–down artifact you've made out his gaze to be. You throw up everything you manage to eat and feel hollow and worthy when you meet Luffy's eyes in Chopper's office again.

There's a chill that follows your days after that.

It's persistent and stubborn in a way that cruelly reminds you of Luffy. On a brighter side, you've got an excuse to be lazy in bed though it irks your bones not to have the weight of you walking thrumming up your body. You get visits from the Strawhats, get your food delivered to you, some of the crew shuffling into your room to keep you entertained with some card games and the likes— you get Luffy consistently making his way into your room and treating it as any other room on his Sunny. He comes in, always makes himself home on the bed, and talks about what he did today. At some point, it becomes less endearing and more annoying to be treated as though you were actually dying. (You hadn't told them for a reason.)

Four days after Chopper had resolutely punished you with bed rest, Luffy decides that he was going to start sleeping in your room. Apparently, your face had translated over what your head was thinking too quickly because he starts whining, saying that he wouldn't get to see you enough if he doesn't do this and, well, since you've always had a tender, raw, skinned soft spot for the boy, you end up saying yes.

He spends his first night telling you what he was going to spend tomorrow doing and you come to the realisation that every other sentence contains you. (Going to find more beetles to show you... Chopper told Sanji it'd be good to get more meat into your diet... Zoro accidentally cut snakes and ladders in half so Nami is giving me money to see if we can find one for you so we can play... Robin said there's a really pretty flower on this next island… For you… For you...) It’s all there laid bare and you cannot face it. You hide your face into the crook of your elbow and wretch out a cough. Luffy frowns but doesn't mention it. He talks himself into sleep and you lay awake to him, trying to keep yourself from blooming throughout the night so he doesn't wake up, cold and still.

When you're startled awake with misty embrace in a dream, you see that Luffy has gone.

What he has left is his straw hat and a mouthpiece of his greatness. The straw is rough against your fingers, resembling the thorns that grows along roses and you stare at it in your lap until you can feel the roughness in your throat— just when you think you need to get water, Sanji shows up with breakfast. You eye the cigarette in his lips and ignore the settling of the tray on your bedside table, watch the smoke fight the smell of scrambled eggs and bits of bacon to take over your room.

"We're at an island?"

Sanji walks around your bed, finding himself comfortable on the couch across the foot of your bed. "We docked early this morning," you watched his smoke rise, ash falling to the wooden floor of your room, waving and grasping hands up to God. Sanji keeps himself entertained by looking around your room, his foot pushing around odd leaves and petals on the floor before he nods over to the plate. "Eat." Then he's gone.

You stare at the tray, settling Luffy's straw hat aside, you shuffle to the end of your bed and take the fork in your hands— you look at the plate until you swear you can taste the eggs in your mouth and the slight bursts of saltiness that'll come from the bacon and you have to wash it down with the glass of water he's given you. You push it aside and opt to go back to sleep.

You dream of a still life on top of a hill, overlooking a dock as the Sunny pulls back out into the sea; you thrash but find every part of you rooted down to one spot, the wind picks up and you feel tangles of what could be hair or leaves hitting against a part of your body. You're still rooted despairingly in a garden of silks and duvets when you wake, Luffy had found himself unable to keep away from your breakfast but when you sit up and look a little closer, you see a pile of the diced bacon bits shoved off to the side as he shovelled eggs into his mouth.

Shattering free from the earth with a faltering cough broken into four, you shuffled yourself up and spit out a cluster of wisteria. At this point, you do not need to look at Luffy to know what his face looks like; he turned to face you, cheeks full and quickly finishing the eggs to shuffle closer to you on the bed with a book in his hands. "You left your book under the plate."

It's a hardback children's book, pulled out of Sunny's library and coloured a light blue that resembled the sky and broken apart by a sunflower in the middle and petals around it, the title curled around the sunflower. You know that the book was left in the library when you were having your episode. The cover is smooth to the touch as Luffy gives it to you and ends up knocking his shoulders against yours in his attempt to get closer; your eyes moved over to the tray of food and you think of Sanji, who'd grown up in the North Blue where this children's story was more popular amongst the romantic commonwealth.

He knows, you think, and it fills you with a dread that the wisteria blossoms feast upon delightfully; he knows, and he could tell everyone, the vines throb over your heart as Luffy opens the book over your lap and looks up, expectantly at you.

Myrsa was a pretty girl, enough so that praises sang for her ended up calling upon the scorn of love's Goddess. The depiction of her getting cursed is almost comical, stricken by lightning as she returns from a forest with a basket full of flowers and mushrooms. "What happens next? What happens next?" Luffy pushes his face closer to the book, tangling a rubbery leg with yours as he moves impossibly closer. "How does Myrsa beat up the God?"

It's the certainty he holds that Myrsa will beat up God that makes you laugh, it's the fact that she does not beat anything that makes you tremble, shaking coughs and petals out your throat. Luffy seems to think that the book is too excitable, trying to pry it away from you and saying that he can ask Robin to read it to him later so you should just rest. "Don't you want to know if Myrsa will beat up the God now?" You ask instead, knowing the answer will be yes.

Perhaps they were the wrong words to convince Luffy because when you're on the last page, Myrsa buried in a forgotten land and her love used as fertiliser for a field of sunflowers, he's threatening to beat up a God made up to exact revenge for Myrsa. It's a lot more cheerful than you had expected— all the characters drawn with round faces, small bodies, and black dots as eyes. It makes death seem redeemable.

After Luffy hauls himself out of your room, in search of the God had turned Myrsa into sunflowers, you force the bacon down your mouth and bring the tray out to Sanji. You linger in the kitchen, eyes watching him as he scrubbed the dishes and danced around the kitchen, no doubt knowing why you were there. He doesn't seem to want to be the one to approach the topic just based on the way he refused to stop even for a moment for the past fifteen minutes you've been there.

You know nothing about Sanji past the fact that he's blond, he's a cook, and he used to be a prince from North Blue's Germa Kingdom.

"You know Myrsa didn't die because she had hanahaki." Your hip meets the edge of an island, arms crossed over your chest as you watched Sanji finally slow to a halt, throwing a glance over at you. He takes his cigarette between two fingers, breathing in for a moment and then takes it out, holding it out to you. "What she was cursed with, wasn't ever meant to be able to kill her."

"I know."

Sanji takes the cigarette back after you shake your head, shrugging a little as he continued. "Myrsa died."

You laugh a little, "I read the book."

There's a point he's trying to make that's as foreign to you as the notion of a love that doesn't hurt but he turns a glance to you that almost reads like he's disappointed in you and it settles nicely against the vines choking you through. You straighten up, uncrossing your arms and his visible eye wanders back over the pots he has boiling on the stove. "You liked the ending?" The ending of the North Blue story was a two–page spread of a sunflower field, a planet of bright yellows and a dull light blue, clouds breaking apart overwhelming tones of sunny golds and drowning diamonds.

A tree split awkwardly in half due to the spine of the book, curved in shape and pinched in the middle until you held the pages at the edges and pulled to straighten in down. "It was pretty," a gentle breeze running through the leaves shedding from the tree, a shiver to the wooden flesh that split apart if looked at the right way by the right man. Myrsa was beautiful, even in a death she didn't pick treated her well.

How could you hope to live when she did not?

You find a lot of things pretty now; you wonder if that's the dead crawling in you that is beginning to appreciate the life around. Robin sat on the deck with a cup of cooling coffee on a table in front of her and a book in her hand, Nami stood between her rows of mikan trees, Zoro straining under the weights of his responsibilities, Brook with a violin to his shoulder. The sky drowned over the ocean as Luffy leaned his head against you on Sunny's figurehead, his voice a soft beat over the water rushing against the hull of the ship. He's talking about Shanks and his dream and your heart aches selfishly; his skin gulps down the orange light of the dawning sun and you resigned yourself to a death loving him.

You wonder if Luffy still thinks of his dead brother, your tongue slips against the bark of your gums, and you open your mouth without thinking. "Luffy," you hear spoken into the wind, "will you tell me about your brother?"

"Sabo?" He's clapping his feet together excitedly, turning from the sky to you with a large grin on his face, "he's a part of the Revelation Army— no, wait revocation? Revenge Army? Renovation Army! Wait— that's not right."

"No, the other one." A whisper haunts the wind, 'the dead one' written in its movement.

There's a certain hesitation to his words that brings you to the realisation that being loved by Luffy is a wonderful thing. He's never been one to be articulate with words, picking the simple ones that come to mind first without a moment's hesitation but strangely the simple–minded way served him well when it came to love. Love is not articulate either— it's one of the simplest things in the world— so when it's met with someone like Luffy, it blossoms into an art form of all things beautiful.

You regret have not meeting Luffy when Ace was around. Dancing around his features is a tender skip of tightness; his shoulders pulled up to his ears, head ducked down, lips awkward and tongue thick as he told you the story of being accepted to be Ace's brother. Hues of embers fluoresce, dripping down on Sunny's figurehead as you reached an arm around him; his words are stained in blood and adoration, strained and slow but Luffy persists, his love persists.

"You should've met him!" He finishes, turning to you with a light chuckle. "You would've loved him."

Your hand falls onto his shoulder, pulling him closer despite the crawl of vomit up your throat and you leaned your head against his straw hat. "Maybe I will."

Death is another thing you think is simple. It's as easy as slipping into Chopper's office to find him hunched over his desk, his hooves holding onto a pestle as he circled the butt around in a mortar. "Ah, you're here?" He glanced over his shoulder as you walked around him and settled onto one of the beds he has in his room. "Give me a second! I nearly have your medicine ready."

"Chopper," you think you've played this out in your head before, "I have hanahaki."

His arms slow down to a halt, his face dropping by several degrees; the previous petals that made up his hopeful and cheerful expression flutter to the floor, guided by the winds you'd altered with those four words.

"Hanahaki?" Chopper's words are slow as he settled the pestle down, "I thought— but it doesn't exist?"

"Funnily enough, it died off." You tell him with a little laugh. "As more people took to the seas and chased after the one piece, less people fell victim to hanahaki." The Chopper you've told this to before in your mind was definitely less devastated and surprised to be greeted by the fact that you have hanahaki.

He's stumbling over his words, trying to pick something to focus on first as his face was scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips open into disbelief. "How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me? You'll have the surgery, right? You can trust me; I'll definitely save you. When did it first start?" Your head is pounding with the incessant questions he spits at you, unable to answer any of them as any allowance for a response was filled in by another inquiry. Suddenly, he's pulling his mind to a stop as he turned back to you, solemn and sad and asks, "who is it?"

It's easy to tell how Luffy has touched people, Chopper makes note of the way your head tilts and you smile and it's obvious that there was no one else capable of calling upon your love.

"And the surgery?"

The look on your face, although foreign to you, tells him all he needs to know.

That doesn't stop him though, he keeps himself by your side and urges (pleads) you to have the surgery; his constant presence becomes a problem when he makes a point of forcing Luffy away from you. It's small at first, trying to distract Luffy with other things, claiming to want to be the one to watch over Luffy when you all dock so you're not given the chance, clinging onto your arms and demanding your attention when Luffy threatens to take it away from him. Then, when Luffy notices that he's been holding onto this flower for hours, fingers pinched around a sunflower stem to ask you how you get seeds from the flower to eat, and every time he's seen a speck of your colour from corners, Chopper shows up to drag you away or points a finger somewhere to shout about a meat mountain, he has a problem.

You notice it's about the meat mountain at first though.

He's slamming the door to Chopper's office after the fourth time, shouting, "Chopper! Where's the meat mountain you keep talking about?" He doesn't seem to care about the fact that Chopper is checking up on you as he stomps into the room, plopping himself down right next to you. Chopper pushes him away when your shoulders brush against each other and you're coughing out bloodied petals. His attention diverts when he hears the shaking of your cough, how you knock into him uncontrollably as your torso leans to meet your thighs, hands deep into the foam edge of the mattress. Petals splatter onto your shoes, clinging to the leather with saliva and re–painting the laces in a sickly red. Luffy’s touch is intrusive, a hand tightened on your thigh that burns your skin to ash and forces vines to splutter out your skin. They attack him, you reel yourself away from Luffy in hopes that they don’t reach him but in some disgusting way, they force themselves to new lengths to coil around his limbs. Spindling up and up and up and you can’t see his face anymore as a thick rope of vines in the shape of his hand reaches out for you, they keep moving up until you only see his hat— your back knocks against the wall. You sternly tell yourself this death is acceptable; the vines grow limp.

When you’ve calmed down enough, the first thing Luffy asks you is, “why aren’t you better yet?” And you feel as though you’re being scolded for some reason; your eyes flicker over to Chopper, fingers tangled together in front of your thighs from the corner of the room you’ve forced yourself into. When Luffy catches the wandering glances— as if you’re trying to keep him out of something— he treats you exactly how you’re acting. Like a criminal.

“Chopper?” It’s unnerving how his eyes are still on you, no trace of expression on his face, “out.”

“But—”

“Out.” Chopper throws you an unhelpful glance as he passes you to get to the door.

You’ve always had the wrong impression of Luffy— everyone that doesn’t know him has the same image; he’s a pirate that has taken down warlord after warlord, who has brought horrifying change and shifts the balance of authority wherever his feet take him. Hearing hushed whispers of him and his close affiliates in the lightened haze of booze, to distract from a tooth getting knocked out of place never does much for his image either. Though it wouldn’t be right to say that Luffy is wholly good either— he’s selfish. Selfish and impossibly kind and downright disgusting with the handling of his own needs; the sound of your name fizzing between his teeth has you startled, nodding your head back to him on the bed you’d left him at.

“You’re hiding something.” It’s not a question nor is it an accusation of any kind. It’s an observation. Luffy slides himself off the bed, his sandals comically slap against the floor of Chopper’s office, “tell me.” His hands fall onto your shoulders, one stays there and the other slides down. He treats your skin like an amusement park for his pleasure; his nails drag across the goosebumps of your bicep, pressing down on raised scars and then splashes into the palm of your hand, dragging ripples in the centre.

You hesitate, twisting your fingers together and pulling as if to attempt to dislodge the odd feeling that follows his fingertips. “Are you asking as a captain?” Despite how general expectations of Luffy remain pretty low to those who do know him, it’s also known that Luffy has a nerve in him that’s impossibly receptive to hurt. There’s a certain way to activate it and when it’s on, it doesn't quieten down until its idiot owner is pleased. Luffy scrunches his face up in an odd way, displeasured at your question as if he couldn’t believe you’d ask him something that hurtful, and his head tilts.

“Tell me.” You’re met with an unwavering stare, the hand on your shoulder tightens and there’s a hardness to it that you’ve never associated with your rubber captain— you can feel the bone in his fingers, stern and undeniable. Your eyes trace over the exposed, tanned skin of his bicep and you wish that you could force your vines through his skin to crawl into his chest and listen to the tremors that’ll run up your devil fruit from his beating heart for some kind of answer. There’s a sudden breath that’s available to you that isn’t tainted and clogged, trapped before it even meets your lungs, but it burns in a new way as you stare at Luffy, scared and terrified of a new life that’ll be forced upon you if you tell him what’s wrong with you.

You open your mouth with an excuse, but Luffy huffs and the words shrivel in your mouth, collapsing to a grain on your tongue and when you close your mouth, you taste dirt. “Luffy,” you beg, “I can’t— just, I’ll be fine.”

There’s a hint of some anger in his gaze before it turns into a haunting realisation, “Chopper knows, doesn’t he?” He pushes you aside, “I’ll just ask Chopper.”

There’s a ringing distant in your ears that chimes like the bell of the church from that place two islands ago, maybe three— you haven’t been too good with time recently. Sunny shakes like the earth as a body hits the pavement, you feel disgusting and heavy and an itch claws through your palms where Luffy’s hand has just been. You’re sure it’s Chopper he’s shaking an answer from but you hear Robin’s voice, calling for him to calm down and when that doesn’t work, Sanji cuts in. It all gets further and further away, you think about the planks of Sunny opening to welcome you back into that darkness from nights ago, you think about being choked by one of your vines, you think about the wisteria blooming whole in your lungs— you think and you think and think and suddenly, it’s all nothing. You’re dying, you think, that’s a fact, what else? Luffy is the reason. Or maybe you’re the reason.

“Luffy,” were you the one talking? “Luffy.” The voice comes again, stern and your eyebrows furrow with the same tension that the voice is carrying. “Thank you for being my captain.”

Not that it surprises you, Luffy punches you.

#op production: circa. 1864 #one piece #monkey d. luffy #one piece angst #one piece x you #one piece x reader #luffy oneshot #luffy angst #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #op luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x you #op x reader #op angst #one piece one shot

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brights-place · 6 months ago

Note

Sry this is from the rainbow dash equestria girls x fem shy reader request but i forgot to put dating headcannons 😓

[MLP Equestria Girls] Rainbow dash x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, PDA, Some angst

A/N: HELLOOO!! I never thought I'd get a request like this and im happy there are people who want me to write from many other fandoms i'm apart of! which i'm so happy about :DD

Summary: Just small dating headcannons of Rainbowdash X fem shy reader LET'S GO LESBIANSSS!!

- Dating rainbowdash has its pros and cons - She would be fun to be around yet sometimes arguments happen but you both talk through it - Rainbow Dash is very athletic and competitive. She is the captain of every sports team at Canterlot High School which you always cheer her on at - She loves looking at you in the stands when she scores or knows she looks awesome yeah she knows but seeing you stare at her with sparkly eyes is everything to her - Due to her competitive nature you keep her grounded placing your hands on her shoulders and telling her shyly to quiet down - Autistic Sporty Gf X Nerdy shy Autistic Gf - When you get socially messed up and scared she's always there since she's dealt with fluttershy she got you

-rainbow dash knew that even though you don't feel comfortable expressing around others that your always happy to just be around with your friends and well with her obv -Rainbow dash loves to cuddle with you when your both alone and would smooch your cheek since she doesn't like being seen as weak

- Only YOU! can wear her iconic rainboom shirt and her jacket and take it off of his face when your alone he enjoys it and would kiss you

- Rainbowdash often seeks out your opinion and values your input in some situations because your her partner and wants to know how you would feel about what she does it's a thing you've both been working on since she's abit impulsive - Rainbow is an unapologetically passionate and energetic personality, embracing her love of music and bringing out the passion in others - She stares at you lovingly and pretends she wasn't moments before as she is blushing - She knows that you hate hated crowded places so when she notices that you would go behind her back pressing your chest against it which was one of her ways of understanding you were saying 'I don't feel comfortable' - She loves trying to teach you sports to do and when she elsrnt you liked to do [Fav Sport] she would play with you for fun and teach you

-Even though she hates losing she gives you a few pity points but still wins as always but she is much gentler with you so all the other girls would be like WTF?!

-Her dragging you to workout or just to have you draw while she workouts to atleast have company

-Rainbowdash likes to challenge herself which becomes a bad habit so you always have to stop her from overworkong herself

- Sometimes rhat leas to arguments but she knew your intentions are good so even after awhile she just agrees after which is hard but she does her best not to overwork herself

- The time she had overworked herself she couldnt compete in a sport and the face of panic made her feel guilty she never wanted to see that again

- She loves you so much and loves sports so much but no matter what she cares even if its hard for her to admit with her whole attutide she cares

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

#rainbowdash x reader #my little pony #my little pony x reader #x reader #headcannons #fluff #equestria girls #mlp equestria girls #female reader #slight angst #angst #mlp #mlp x reader #Rainbowdash x female reader #rainbowdash mlp

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mrs-delaney · 15 days ago

Text

Hide | Vegas Rules | Chapter Eight. One

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC) Word Count: 16.3k Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, emotional vulnerability, intimate moments, jealousy, bathroom encounters, and the complicated feelings that emerge when privacy meets passion

A Few Quick Notes:

📝 This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it's been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing. 🔔 Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💌 Requests: Open

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! It didn't feel quite right and I was making last-minute edits right up until now. This one's going to be split into two parts due to Tumblr's word count limits.

There's something profoundly revealing about watching someone navigate distance and desire. This chapter explores what happens when the bubble of Cincinnati bursts—when color-coded calendars collide with 3AM studio sessions, when shared intimacy must stretch across time zones, when private moments face the prospect of public scrutiny.

For Joe, it's about confronting the boundaries he's always maintained—both literally and figuratively—between his carefully compartmentalized worlds. His phone becomes both bridge and barrier, bringing Riley's voice into his ordered space while highlighting the miles between them. The jealousy that flares in Vegas reveals a possessiveness he didn't know he harbored, forcing him to question why keeping her separate matters so much.

For Riley, it's discovering the vulnerable edges beneath Joe's controlled exterior. It's recognizing the fear behind his hesitation—not that he doesn't want her enough, but that he might want her too much. It's understanding that his reluctance isn't about hiding her, but about protecting something still fragile and unnamed between them.

I wanted to capture that essential tension between connection and distance—how proximity intensifies while separation clarifies. Their different approaches to privacy aren't just practical disagreements; they're fundamental expressions of how they move through the world. His instinct to shield versus her desire to live authentically becomes the first real test of whether love alone is enough to bridge their differences.

As they circle each other in Vegas, we glimpse both the power and fragility of what they're building. The physical connection remains undeniable, but underneath lies a deeper question neither is ready to face: can two people who love in such fundamentally different ways find lasting harmony, or are some differences too essential to overcome? Sometimes the very qualities that draw us together most powerfully are the same ones that may eventually pull us apart.

Their promise to truly talk "after the fight" feels both hopeful and weighty with unspoken fears. It's the beginning of a journey that will test them both—asking whether passionate connection can withstand the practical challenges of merging two vastly different lives, or if even the deepest love sometimes requires more compromise than a heart can give.

Thank you all for your incredible comments on the last chapter! Each one fills my creative well in ways you can't imagine. Your insights and reactions keep me going through every writing session.

I can't wait to hear what you think of this one! 🎲🥃💋

I hear you all about the Sydney Sweeney face claim for Riley! I've put up a poll asking for your input on this, so please weigh in if you have thoughts about it.

Poll Link

Asks are open, let's talk about this one.

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123 @lilfreakjez

Joe stood in his kitchen, coffee in hand, staring at the empty space where Riley's mug had been just days ago. The turntable in the corner stood silent—no music filling the house that had briefly felt alive. He ran a finger along the counter's edge, the cool granite a stark reminder of the order that had returned to his life. The silence didn't used to bother him. Now, it pressed in, hollow and sharp, like something had been carved out of his routine.

He took a sip of his coffee—black, no sugar, back to his routine—and tried to shake the odd feeling that had settled over his house since Riley had left. The place looked exactly as it always had. Riley had taken most of her things when she left.

Most, but not all.

On the counter sat a silver alligator ring that she must have forgotten. He'd found it that morning after her flight left, tucked against the bathroom sink where she'd probably taken it off before showering. He picked it up now, turning it over in his fingers—the detailed scales catching the morning light, the small reptile curved into a perfect circle. It was uniquely Riley—a little wild, unconventional, with personality.

He opened their message thread, scrolling back to the photos she’d sent the night before. In one, she was in the studio, headphones around her neck, eyes tired but bright with creative energy, giving the camera a peace sign and sticking out her tongue. His old LSU bracelet was still on her wrist, the faded purple and gold standing out against her skin.

Riley: 3am and still going. Pete keeps threatening to quit but I know he loves it. Send caffeine. And maybe sleep. Miss your stupid face and clean countertops.

Joe hesitated, then typed simply-

Joe: Miss you too.

The words felt foreign on his screen—honest but still new enough to make his pulse quicken. His thumb hovered before swiping to his color-coded calendar, the switch from her chaotic warmth to his structured routine jarring.

Color-coded blocks filled his screen: training in green, media in blue, and sponsor obligations in yellow. The system had guided him through college and into the NFL, ensuring nothing fell through the cracks.

But now there was Riley—vibrant, unpredictable Riley—who didn't fit neatly into any color-coded box.

He tapped back into their text thread, scrolling past more photos. In one, she was hunched over a notebook, unaware of the camera, all focus and motion. Nothing like the curated images he’d grown used to from other women.

His thumb hovered over the phone icon, then retreated. It was still early in L.A.—she’d probably just crashed. Her world moved to the rhythm of inspiration, not structure.

Back to the calendar. The order of it usually gave him comfort. Today, it felt more like a cage. He wondered what her day had looked like—messy, spontaneous, creative. All the things that had drawn him to her in the first place.

His life had always been compartmentalized—football, personal, public. Riley didn’t fit into any box. She bled through them, chaotic and thrilling. The one thing he didn’t want to compartmentalize—and the one thing he kept trying to.

Across the country, Riley was living in another rhythm entirely. No longer the same house, the same routines, the same air. What had felt intimate in Cincinnati now felt fragile over miles of distance. He was good at managing space—games, press, fans. But not with her.

She was the one thing he didn’t want to compartmentalize—and the one thing he kept trying to.

* * *

Joe was at Black Sheep Performance, muscles still burning from the workout, when he spotted Mark waiting by the equipment racks, phone in hand and a familiar set to his jaw.

"We need to talk," Mark said as Joe toweled off, not bothering with pleasantries.

"About?" Joe asked, though he already had a good idea.

"Body Armor wants to increase your involvement in the campaign," Mark said, falling into step beside him as they headed toward the locker room. "They're pushing for more social media content, additional appearances."

Joe gave him a sidelong glance. "And?"

"And I'm just making sure your head is in the game," Mark replied carefully. "Last time we discussed Riley Carter, you told me to drop it. But now you're rearranging training with Dak to accommodate trips to New Orleans, private flights to Cincinnati..."

"Is there a question in there somewhere?" Joe asked his voice level despite the growing tension in his shoulders.

Mark sighed. "Look, Joe. Bill and I have the same concerns we did before. Riley has a certain... reputation in the industry. Free-spirited, unpredictable. We're not saying she's not great, but—"

"We've had this conversation," Joe cut him off, stopping at his locker. "My personal life is my business."

"It becomes our business when it affects scheduling, appearances, and partnerships," Mark countered. "You've built your brand on consistency and preparation. That's what these companies are investing in."

Joe started changing, deliberately taking his time. "Have I missed any commitments?"

"No," Mark admitted. "Not yet. But—"

"Then there's no problem," Joe concluded, pulling on a fresh shirt. "Set up the additional content shoots. I'll be there."

Mark looked like he wanted to say more but recognized the set of Joe's jaw. "Fine. Tuesday at 10."

As Mark walked away, Joe checked his phone to find a text from Riley. She'd sent a selfie from Pete's pool house studio, chopsticks poised over a container of sushi, making a dramatic face.

Riley: Studio lunch upgrade courtesy of Scout. Says we need "brain food" for mixing which apparently means fancy tuna rolls. Not complaining.

Despite the lingering tension from Mark's concerns, Joe found himself smiling. He typed back:

Joe: Definite upgrade. Those actually look edible.

He pocketed his phone, finished changing, and headed out to his car. The conversation with Mark wasn't anything new—just a variation on the same theme Bill and he had been pushing since Riley first entered the picture. Joe understood their perspective, professionally. But they weren't seeing what he saw.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Riley was hunched over the mixing console in Pete's pool house studio, headphones on, fingers moving with practiced precision across the board. They'd converted the space years ago when they decided to take control of their recording process, adding professional-grade soundproofing, equipment racks, and a collection of instruments that rivaled many commercial studios.

"Try pulling back the reverb on the bridge vocals," she instructed, making minute adjustments to the EQ. "I want that section drier, more intimate."

Pete nodded, making the change while Andy and Daniel listened intently, all of them focused on the detailed work of fine-tuning their sound. When Riley spoke in the studio, everyone listened—her ear was uncannily precise, able to pick out frequencies and textures most people missed entirely.

After running through the section again, Riley nodded, satisfied. "That's it. Now it breathes better." She slipped off her headphones and stretched, rolling her neck to release the tension that came from hours of focused work.

"I still think my guitar solo needs more bite," Andy said, arms crossed over his chest.

"It's perfect where it is," Riley countered. "Any more, and it would overshadow the vocal line, which is the whole point of that section."

Andy opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, recognizing that particular tone in Riley's voice. When it came to production decisions, she had an uncanny instinct that had guided their sound from the beginning.

Riley checked her phone, a small smile playing on her lips when she saw a text from Joe.

"Earth to Riley," Pete said, nudging her shoulder. "We're not done yet. Still have to decide on the final arrangement for the outro."

"I'm here," Riley replied, tucking her phone away. "Let's add those backing vocals we talked about—layer them three deep, panned wide."

As they dove back into the work, Andy kept shooting her knowing looks. Finally, during a break, while Daniel stepped outside to take a call, he couldn't contain himself any longer.

"So, how's the long-distance thing going with Quarterback Ken?" he asked, sprawling dramatically across the couch.

Riley rolled her eyes at the nickname. "It's going fine."

"Even with your vampire studio hours and his crack-of-dawn training schedule?" Pete asked, genuinely curious.

"We make it work," Riley said simply. "He stays up late, I set alarms for ungodly hours. Sometimes we just leave voice memos."

Pete studied her for a moment. "You really like this guy, huh?"

Riley bit her lip, fighting a smile that threatened to give too much away. "Yeah. I do."

"Careful, Riles," Andy warned, though his tone was more teasing than genuinely concerned. "Next thing you know, you'll be trading in your leather jacket for a Bengals jersey."

Riley flipped him off casually. "Says the guy who wore a KISS costume for three straight months when he dated that tribute band guitarist."

"That was different," Andy protested. "Gene Simmons is rock royalty."

"And Joe Burrow is football royalty," Pete conceded with a shrug. "Man's got game, can't deny that."

“Still,” Andy said, “we’re kind of a lot, don’t you think? Loud, messy, overly attached to vintage gear and each other. Not exactly easy to drop into.”

"He handled me in Cincinnati just fine," Riley said, a defensive edge creeping into her voice. "Better than fine, actually."

“So he survived your ‘leave it where it lands’ home aesthetic?” Andy teased, clearly fishing for details.

"Actually, my chaos seemed to be exactly what his place needed," Riley replied with a smirk. "And no complaints whatsoever."

"So he actually color-codes his schedule?" Pete asked, twirling a drumstick between his fingers as they took a break from recording.

Riley laughed, opening her phone to the shared calendar they’d synced. “Green for training, blue for media, yellow for sponsors. It’s like the world’s most organized rainbow.”

"And I thought you were bad with your Google calendar reminders," Andy teased Pete before turning back to Riley. "So what's your color in his perfect system?"

The question caught Riley off guard. "I... don't know. We haven't gotten there yet."

"Probably pink with little hearts," Andy suggested with a smirk.

"Or maybe she doesn't get a color," Daniel observed quietly from behind his coffee mug. "Maybe she's the thing that doesn't fit in the system."

The observation hung in the air, uncomfortably perceptive.

"Hmm," Andy mused, clearly not convinced. "Well, when you drag him to a last-minute 3 AM inspiration session, let me know how that goes."

Meanwhile, across the country, Joe sat in the locker room, half-listening as his teammates discussed weekend plans.

* * *

"Yo, Burrow, you've been glued to that phone all week," Trey called out. "What's got you so distracted?"

Joe pocketed his phone where Riley's latest text waited for a reply. "Nothing. Just checking the time."

"Right," Ja'Marr said with a knowing look. "That's why you've been smiling at 'nothing' for the past five minutes."

"Leave it, dude," Joe replied, his tone friendly but final.

Later, when Ja'Marr caught him alone, his friend's expression turned serious. "You know, it's okay to admit you're into someone. Won't kill your focus."

Joe adjusted his gym bag on his shoulder. "It's complicated."

"Always is," Ja'Marr replied. "But maybe it's worth mentioning to the guys if she's important enough to have you checking your phone every five minutes."

Joe considered this. There was safety in privacy, in keeping Riley separate from his football world. But as the distance between Cincinnati and LA stretched between them, that separation was beginning to feel less like protection and more like denial.

He stared at the shared calendar on his screen, then back at the last photo Riley had sent. Her chaos didn’t clutter his life—it cracked it open.

Before he could overthink it, his thumb was already pressing her name.

* * *

Riley was about to fire back when her phone buzzed with a call. Joe's name lit up the screen.

"I need to take this," she said, already heading for the pool house door. "And we're done with this conversation."

"Tell the quarterback I said his spiral is tight!" Andy called after her, making crude gestures until Pete smacked him upside the head.

Outside by the pool, Riley leaned against a deck chair, phone pressed to her ear. "Hey you," she answered, her voice softening instantly.

"Hey," Joe replied, the familiar warmth in his voice making distance feel less significant. "Bad time?"

"Perfect time, actually," Riley said, glancing back at the pool house. "You just rescued me from the peanut gallery in there."

"Giving you a hard time about us?" Joe guessed.

"Andy's just being Andy," Riley said with a sigh. "What about you? How's the training going?"

"Good," Joe replied. "Making progress on the mobility drills Dak added."

Riley sensed something in his tone. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Joe said after a brief pause. "Just the usual stuff. Mark asking questions about scheduling."

Riley frowned slightly. "Because of me?"

"No," Joe said quickly—too quickly. "Just regular season prep things."

Riley knew better but didn't press. "When are you done with training today?"

"Just finished," Joe replied. "Heading home now. You guys making progress on the album?"

"Absolutely," Riley said, letting him change the subject. "Just nailed down the bridge section after hours of tweaking. Now we're just finessing the outro."

"Sounds technical," Joe observed.

“It’s all in the details,” Riley agreed. “When we’re done today, want to FaceTime? I’ll catch you before bedtime—reasonable Joe Burrow evening hour.”

"I'd like that," Joe said, and Riley could hear the smile in his voice.

"It's a date," she said. “Now I should get back before Andy starts claiming his solo is ‘spiritually essential’ again.”

After they hung up, Riley stood by the pool a moment longer, turning her phone over in her hands. Despite Joe's deflection, she'd picked up on the undertone in his voice. His team had concerns about her—that much was obvious, even if he wasn't saying it directly. And despite her casual brush-off of Andy's teasing, his words had touched a nerve. She and Joe did come from different worlds, with different rhythms and different expectations.

Riley twisted the LSU bracelet on her wrist, the familiar weight of it grounding her. She wasn't going to let other people's doubts creep into what was still so new, so fragile.

With renewed determination, she pushed off the deck chair and headed back into the studio, ready to finish the track and get to her FaceTime date with Joe.

* * *

Later that night, Joe settled on his couch, laptop balanced on his knees as he reviewed game film from last season. The analyst in him couldn't help but dissect each play, mentally cataloging what he'd do differently next time. It was his nightly ritual—part of the discipline that had carried him to the highest level of the sport.

His phone chimed with a text from Riley.

Riley: Finally escaped the studio prison. Andy and Daniel nearly came to blows over a drum fill. Just need to shower off the day before our FaceTime. 30 min?

Joe responded immediately.

Joe: I'll be here.

He tidied the already clean living room out of habit. She couldn’t see it through the phone. Didn’t matter. Some routines were hard to break.

Her face filled the screen—damp hair, old band shirt, no makeup. Freckles he’d noticed the first night and kept coming back to, like a habit he hadn’t meant to form.

"Hey, babes," she said, her smile tired but genuine.

"Hey," Joe replied, something in his chest loosening at the sight of her. "You look exhausted."

"Thanks. Always know how to charm a girl." Riley repositioned herself, curling into what appeared to be the corner of her couch, a colorful throw pillow tucked behind her. "Three days straight in the studio will do that to you."

"The album's coming along, though?"

"Yeah. It's close. We're in that maddening phase where everything's ninety percent done, which means we fight over the tiniest details." She brushed the damp hair from her face. "How was your day? Besides the Mark interrogation."

Joe hesitated. "It wasn't an interrogation. Just the usual."

“Which means he’s worried about me distracting you.”

She watched him for a beat—how his eyes shifted, the way he didn’t quite meet hers. “Did I get it right?”

Joe shrugged one shoulder. "He's doing his job. Making sure I stay focused."

Riley studied him through the screen, her expression unreadable for a moment. "And are you? Focused?"

"Always," Joe said simply. Then his expression softened. "Except when you send photos of yourself eating sushi."

That earned a genuine laugh, the kind that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "The great Joe Burrow, distracted by raw fish. Headline news."

"Not the fish," Joe corrected, his voice dropping slightly. "Definitely not the fish."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that didn't need to be filled immediately. Joe watched as Riley reached for something off-screen, then returned with a mug that she cradled between her hands.

"So," she said after taking a sip, "your place still standing without me wreaking havoc on your countertops?"

"It's too quiet," Joe admitted, surprising himself with his honesty. "Keeps feeling like something's missing."

Riley’s expression softened. “Yeah. I know what you mean. My place was the same—messy, loud, alive—but it felt off. Like the room shifted while I was gone.”

Joe nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. They'd only spent a few days together in Cincinnati, yet her absence had left a noticeable void. It wasn't logical—they barely knew each other in the grand scheme of things—but it was undeniable.

"I found your ring," he said, remembering the silver alligator. "By the sink."

Riley's hand flew to her wrist as if just noticing its absence. "My alligator? I've been turning the house upside down, looking for it."

"I'll send it back."

"Or you could just hold onto it," Riley suggested, tucking her legs beneath her. "Give me a reason to come back."

"You need a reason?" Joe raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"No," Riley admitted, her voice softening as she met his eyes. "But I like knowing a piece of me stays with you when I go." She brushed her thumb across the back of his hand. "Something to remind you I'm coming back."

"I don't need a reminder," Joe said quietly, turning his hand to catch her fingers with his. "But I'll keep it safe until you do."

Their conversation drifted easily between topics—Riley's progress on the album, Joe's upcoming schedule, and casual observations about their days apart. Time slipped away as they fell into a rhythm that felt surprisingly natural, given the screens between them.

"So," Riley said eventually, stifling a yawn, "any travel coming up for you? I assume you're pretty tied to Cincinnati through training."

"Actually," Joe replied, "I might be heading to Vegas in a couple weeks. UFC fight. Nothing official, just something Ja'Marr's been wanting to do."

"Vegas, huh?" Riley said, her voice carefully neutral. They were on FaceTime, Joe propped up on his kitchen counter while she sat cross-legged on her studio couch.

"Yeah, Ja'Marr's been wanting to see this fight for months," Joe explained. "Henderson versus Chandler. Should be good."

Riley's expression brightened. "Wait, that fight? Pete and Andy have been talking about it non-stop. They're going too."

The coincidence hung between them for a moment. Joe should be pleased—it was a perfect opportunity to see each other, a natural intersection of their separate worlds.

Instead, he felt a cold knot forming in his stomach. Vegas was a fishbowl, especially during fight weekends. Cameras are everywhere, and social media is ready to pounce on any hint of a story. The carefully maintained distance between his public and private selves would be impossible to protect.

"That's... quite a coincidence," he managed, his tone not quite matching the words.

Riley studied him through the screen, her expression shifting as she read something in his face. "It is. Might be fun if we all ended up there the same weekend."

The tentative suggestion hung in the air. Joe knew what she was asking without her having to say it directly. Could they see each other? Spend time together? Acknowledge whatever was growing between them in a space that wasn't carefully controlled by phone calls and private visits?

"It would be pretty chaotic," Joe said finally. "Fight weekends in Vegas are intense. Not much privacy."

Riley's eyes never left his face. "And that would be a problem?"

It was a simple question, but they both knew it carried weight far beyond Vegas plans. This was about what they were to each other—and whether Joe was ready to let the controlled, private bubble they'd created expand into the messy reality of public life.

"Not a problem exactly," Joe hedged. "Just complicated."

"Right," Riley said, her voice cooling slightly. "Complicated."

Joe didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, not hostile, just… stuck.

They kept talking—about timing, about travel, about how easy it was when they were in the same room. And how nothing felt simple anymore.

Somewhere along the way, the conversation stopped being careful.

"I don't understand why it has to be all or nothing with you," Joe said, frustration evident in his voice despite the poor connection. They'd been talking for nearly an hour, circling around the Vegas issue without resolving anything.

Riley sighed on the other end of the phone. "That's not what I'm saying, Joe. I'm not asking for some grand public declaration. I'm just questioning why we need to pretend we don't know each other if we're in the same place."

"I'm not suggesting we pretend anything," Joe countered. "I just think there's value in keeping some things private."

"There's a difference between private and secret," Riley said after a pause. "Private is not posting every detail on Instagram. Secret is acting like we're strangers in public."

The distinction hit Joe harder than he expected. "Is that what you think I'm doing? Keeping you a secret?"

"I don't know," Riley admitted, her voice softening. "Sometimes it feels that way. Like you're fine with me existing in this careful bubble you've created, but you're not sure you want me in your real life."

"That's not fair," Joe protested, even as an uncomfortable truth nagged at him. "My life is complicated, Riley. Everything I do gets scrutinized, analyzed, turned into some narrative I can't control."

"You think mine isn't?" Riley challenged. "I've lived through public dissection, Joe. Remember the Ethan situation? Every detail of our breakup splashed across music blogs, his side of the story accepted as gospel because he got there first with his PR team?"

Joe hadn't considered that angle—that Riley's desire for authenticity wasn't naivety but hard-won wisdom.

"The difference is how we handled it," Riley continued when Joe remained silent. "You build walls. I learned to live honestly despite the scrutiny."

"And you never worry about what people might say? What they might assume?" Joe asked.

"Of course I do," Riley said. "But I refuse to let that fear dictate how I live my life. The minute you start hiding parts of yourself because you're afraid of what people might say—that's when they win."

“I’ve spent years keeping my personal life separate,” he said. “Blurring those lines isn’t easy for me.”

"I know," Riley said, her voice gentler now. "I'm not asking you to change overnight. I'm just asking you to consider that maybe all that careful separation isn't protecting you—maybe it's just keeping you isolated from the parts of life that matter most."

The slight withdrawal was subtle but unmistakable. She was giving him space—exactly what he thought he wanted—yet somehow, it felt like losing something precious. The conversation shifted to safer topics, but something had changed. A quiet politeness had crept in where the rhythm used to be. By the time they said goodnight, the connection felt thinner, like something unspoken had settled between them.

After they hung up, Joe sat staring at his dark phone screen, replaying the conversation. He hadn't handled that well. Maybe he should have just invited her to join them. But the thought of Riley in Vegas, cameras everywhere, speculation about their relationship splashed across sports blogs and gossip sites—it twisted something in his stomach.

It wasn't that he was hiding her. Not exactly. He just needed... control. Time to figure out what this was between them before the whole world weighed in with opinions.

He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the day's stubble against his palm. Why did it have to be so complicated? Football made sense. Clear objectives, defined strategies, measurable outcomes. This—whatever was growing between him and Riley—operated by different rules entirely.

* * *

Three days passed with superficially normal communication between them—texts about their days, brief calls when schedules aligned—but Joe couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Riley was still Riley—quick-witted, warm, engaged—but there was a new carefulness to her interactions, as if she were minding an invisible boundary he'd drawn.

Joe was heading into his regular session with Dak when his phone buzzed with a call from Ja'Marr.

"What's up?" Joe answered, nodding at Dak as he entered the gym.

"Vegas fight," Ja'Marr said without preamble. "You still in? Need to lock in the suite reservation by tomorrow."

Joe hesitated. "Yeah, I'm in. But listen, there's something I wanted to run by you."

"Shoot."

"Riley might be there the same weekend. Some guys from her band are going to the fight."

Ja’Marr nodded. “Cool. Been wanting to meet her anyway—hang out a little, see what she’s about.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, then paused. “That’s the thing. Not sure it’s smart—public-wise.”

"“Okay, yeah—you’ve always been careful,” Ja’Marr said, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. “But maybe you don’t have to be this time. She ain’t some random girl.”

"It's complicated," he finally said.

"Look, not to overstep," Ja'Marr said carefully, "but if you really like this girl, maybe don't overthink it. Vegas is Vegas. Everyone's too busy doing their own thing to care who's there with who."

Joe considered this. Maybe he was overthinking it. "Let me figure it out," he said finally. "But yeah, keep me on the list for now."

"You got it. Let me know if you want me to add one more."

After hanging up, Joe stared at his phone for a long moment. Then, before he could second-guess himself, he typed out a text to Riley.

Joe: Been thinking about Vegas. If you want to come, we can make it work.

He hit send before he could overthink it, then tucked his phone away and turned his attention to Dak, who was waiting with the day's training plan.

Two hours later, muscles burning from a particularly brutal workout, Joe checked his phone to find Riley's response.

Riley: Already got a flight with Pete and Andy. But I appreciate the thought. Maybe we'll run into each other there.

Joe frowned at the screen. The message was friendly enough, but something about it felt off. Like she was deliberately creating distance. Before he could respond, a second text came through.

Riley: For what it's worth, I get it. Privacy matters. No pressure either way.

Joe stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was exactly what he'd wanted—understanding, no pressure, keeping things private. So why did it feel like he'd somehow screwed up?

He was still trying to formulate a response when Bill appeared at the gym entrance, clipboard in hand and expression grim. Whatever this conversation about Vegas would become, it would have to wait.

“Vegas? The same weekend Riley Carter will be there?” Bill’s voice rose as he paced Joe’s kitchen. “With those bandmates of hers? The ones who trended last month for that club incident in Atlanta?” He stopped, holding up his tablet like it proved something. “Mark mentioned it this morning. Tell me he got it wrong.”

"It's a coincidence," Joe said, his voice level despite the tension building between his shoulders. "A lot of people go to these fights."

But even as he said it, Joe felt the familiar weight of expectation pressing down—the constant awareness that his choices were never just his own, that every move was observed, analyzed, categorized. The weight he'd carried so long he barely noticed it anymore. Until now. Until Riley made him question why he accepted it at all.

"Coincidence or not, it creates a situation," Bill interjected, more measured but equally concerned. "Joe, we've talked about this. The optics—"

"The optics of what? Two adults who happen to be at the same event?" Joe challenged, his patience wearing thin. "We're not in high school, Bill."

Bill stopped pacing to face Joe directly. "Have you seen the latest on her bandmate—the one with the hair? Three clubs in one night last weekend, photographed with models at each one."

"Andy," Joe supplied. "And what does that have to do with Riley?"

"It's the company she keeps," Bill explained, as if talking to a child. "These are people who live their lives completely in the public eye, who court the kind of attention you've always avoided."

"She's not responsible for her bandmate's choices," Joe countered.

"No, but she's part of that world," Bill said. "Look, Joe, no one's saying she's not great. But the Riley Carter who appears in those music videos, who hangs out with people who trend on Twitter for their exploits—that's a very different image from what we've built for you."

Bill nodded, pulling out his tablet and swiping to a saved article. "Remember this? Her ex, Ethan Mills, claimed she 'lived for the party' in that Rolling Stone interview after their breakup."

Joe felt a flash of anger. "An interview where he was clearly trying to damage her reputation after she left him."

"Maybe," Bill conceded. "But perception is reality in this business. We've spent years building you as the focused, disciplined leader. The reliable one. The guy sponsors trust to represent their brands."

"I'm not changing who I am just because I'm seeing someone," Joe said firmly.

"No one's asking you to," Bill said, his tone softening slightly. "We're just asking you to be careful. Vegas is a fishbowl on fight weekends. If you and Riley are seen together, that becomes the story—not your training, not your recovery, not your preparation for next season."

The frustrating part was that they weren't entirely wrong. Joe had witnessed firsthand how quickly narratives could form and calcify in the public consciousness. One weekend, a few photos, and suddenly "Joe Burrow, focused quarterback" could become "Joe Burrow, distracted by rockstar girlfriend."

"I'm still going to Vegas," Joe said, the quiet finality in his tone ending the discussion. What he didn't say—what he was still reconciling himself—was whether he was ready to let Riley fully into that part of his life, or if he would continue trying to keep these worlds separate even when they inevitably collided.

* * *

Riley set her phone down on the countertop with deliberate care, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in her chest. She'd spent three days trying to convince herself that Joe's hesitation about Vegas meant nothing—that his desire for privacy was reasonable, expected even. They were still new. Still figuring things out.

So why did it still sting?

"Everything okay over there?" Laura asked from the couch, where she was editing footage for a documentary project. "You look like someone canceled Christmas."

"Everything's fine," Riley said automatically, then reconsidered. "Actually, no. Not really."

Laura closed her laptop, giving Riley her full attention. "Quarterback troubles?"

Riley sighed, joining Laura on the couch. "Is it stupid that I'm bothered by this? We've been seeing each other for what, a month? It's not like we've had the exclusivity talk or anything."

"What happened?" Laura asked, concern evident in her voice.

"Joe's going to be in Vegas the same weekend as Pete and Andy, for that UFC fight they've been obsessing over. When I mentioned the coincidence, he got all weird about us being seen together there." Riley picked at a loose thread on the couch cushion. "He just sent this very careful text about how 'we can make it work' if I want to come, but it feels...I don't know. Like an obligation."

“And you’re already locked in to fly with the guys?”

Riley nodded. "After our FaceTime call the other night. Andy's been begging me to come for weeks. I figured, why not? It'll be fun."

"So what's the real issue?" Laura asked, studying Riley's face. "That he didn't invite you first?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Riley pressed her palms against her eyes. "It's more that I feel like he's keeping me in this separate box away from his real life. Like he's not sure I fit."

Laura was quiet for a moment, considering. "Do you remember how private you were after Ethan? How you wouldn't even let us tag you in photos for months?"

"That was different," Riley protested. "Ethan had just—"

"Publicly humiliated you, yes," Laura finished. "And it made you careful. Made you build walls. I'm not saying Joe's situation is the same, but privacy means different things to different people."

Riley absorbed this, twisting her bracelet—Joe's bracelet—around her wrist. "I guess I'm just scared he's embarrassed by me. That I don't fit into his perfect, orderly world."

"Did he say that?"

"No," Riley admitted. "He said it wasn't about me. That it was about control, about keeping things private until we figure it out."

"That sounds...pretty reasonable, actually," Laura observed. "And very different from 'I don't want to be seen with you.'"

Riley sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch. "Why am I making this into a bigger thing than it is?"

“Because you really like him,” Laura said. “And because after Ethan, you promised yourself you’d only do real. Not curated. Not performative.” She gave Riley a look—gentle but clear. “So now, when someone asks for privacy, it feels a little too close to being hidden—even when it’s not.”

Riley nodded, turning Laura's words over in her mind. There was truth there. Privacy was what she'd sought after Ethan, a shelter to heal wounds that had been inflicted in public view. Maybe Joe needed the same thing—space to let whatever was growing between them take root before exposing it to public scrutiny.

"So what are you going to do about Vegas?" Laura asked.

Riley squared her shoulders. "I'm going to go with Pete and Andy. Have fun. And if I run into Joe, great. If not..." She shrugged, affecting more nonchalance than she felt. "Then I'll handle that too."

Laura studied her friend's face. "Just be careful. Don't punish him for Ethan's mistakes."

Riley nodded, the wisdom in those words hitting home. She was determined not to let past hurts cloud what was happening now. Joe wasn't Ethan. She knew that. This relationship—or whatever it was becoming—deserved a clean slate.

Still, as she returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner, Riley couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling that Vegas would either bring them closer together or push them further apart. There would be no middle ground.

* * *

It was early April in Cincinnati, and the private training facility carried that in-between feeling—winter barely behind them, the promise of spring still damp in the air. Joe sat on the edge of a turf mat, shoulders tense, sweat cooling on his back as the other guys filtered out. The off-season rhythm was different—quieter, less structured—but somehow, it still didn’t leave much room to think.

“You make up your mind about Vegas yet?” Ja’Marr asked, casual.

Joe didn’t look up. “Not really a choice anymore.”

Ja’Marr turned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s going,” Joe said, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. “With her band. Decided after our last call. She was pissed. Rightfully.”

Ja’Marr raised a brow. “You invite her after we talked?”

“I tried. Kinda backpedaled and said if she happened to be there, maybe we could meet up.” Joe scoffed at himself. “She basically blew me off.”

Ja’Marr made a face. “Can you blame her?”

Joe ran a hand over his jaw, tension in every line of his body. “I’m fucking this up.”

“Yeah, a little,” Ja’Marr said bluntly. “Why though? You like her. She likes you. What’s the holdup?”

Joe exhaled hard. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is, but come on—”

“She’s got a past, man. High-profile ex. Party history. Her face has been in more gossip headlines than some of our teammates.” Joe looked away. “She’s loud. Public. I don’t want to live like that.”

Ja’Marr crossed his arms. “So what—you don’t want to be seen with her?”

Joe’s jaw tightened. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that once it’s out, it’s out. People have opinions. Narratives. Everyone decides what our relationship is before we do.”

Ja’Marr blinked. “Okay, but what does that have to do with you? You like her. You trust her. That’s what matters.”

“There’s no middle ground with her,” Joe said quietly. “She’s all in or she walks. And I don’t blame her for that, I just…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how to be what she needs in public when I’m still figuring it out in private.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Ja’Marr studied him.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said finally. “She’s not asking you to stand on a stage and announce you’re in love. She just doesn’t want to be treated like a secret.”

Joe looked away again. “Yeah. Well. I already made her feel like one.”

Ja’Marr sighed. “Then go fix it.”

Joe didn’t respond.

Ja’Marr grabbed a towel, slung it over his shoulder, and started walking away. “Or don’t. Just stop acting surprised when it falls apart.”

Joe nodded absently, watching as Ja’Marr walked off toward the recovery room.

He stayed seated for a beat longer, letting the quiet hum of the facility settle around him. Not long. Just enough.

He hadn’t meant to hurt her—but maybe he had. Maybe all his careful control, his need to keep things private and protected, had sent the wrong message. Not that she mattered, but that she didn’t matter enough. That was never true. But if he didn’t figure out how to show her that soon, he was going to lose something that didn’t come around twice.

* * *

The sprawling Las Vegas skyline came into view through the jet window—a gaudy, glittering oasis rising defiantly from the desert floor. Joe watched it approach, the ordered grid of streets somehow containing the world's most deliberate chaos. A city of calculated risk, where every spontaneous moment was carefully engineered. A city of contradictions. Like him, lately.

"We land in ten, Mr. Burrow," the flight attendant informed him as she collected his untouched champagne glass.

Joe nodded, closing his tablet and gazing out the window. The desert landscape stretched endlessly, punctuated by the gaudy oasis of the Strip. Any other time, he might have appreciated the stark contrast. Today, his thoughts were elsewhere—specifically, on whether Riley had already landed.

Beside him, Ja'Marr tucked away his headphones. "Man, I can't wait to hit the blackjack tables. You in?"

"Maybe later," Joe replied, noncommittal. "Want to get settled first."

"Settled," Ja'Marr repeated with a knowing look. "That code for 'check if Riley's here yet'?"

Joe shot him a warning glance but didn't deny it. There was no point—Ja'Marr had become increasingly adept at reading his moods since their conversation in the weight room.

The landing was smooth, and within minutes they were descending the stairs to the private tarmac where a sleek black SUV waited. The Vegas heat hit Joe immediately, a dry wall of warmth after the artificial cool of the plane.

"Aria first, gentlemen?" the driver asked as they slid into the leather seats.

"Yeah," Joe confirmed, already reaching for his phone. He'd had it off during the flight—another routine, another small piece of control in a life full of distractions. Now, he found himself uncharacteristically impatient as it powered on.

Three texts loaded: one from Bill about a sponsorship call, one from his mother checking he'd arrived safely, and one from Riley.

Riley: Landed in Vegas with the guys. Pete already plotting how to lose his money at the craps table. We're staying at the Cosmopolitan. Let me know when you're here.

The message was friendly but careful—none of the warmth or playfulness that had characterized their earlier conversations. Joe stared at it, thumb hovering over the keyboard, aware of Ja'Marr watching him with barely concealed interest.

"Just text her, man," Ja'Marr said, breaking the silence with the directness that had defined their friendship since LSU. "This brooding thing doesn't suit you."

Joe ignored him, though he knew Ja'Marr was right. Since college, he had been the one person who called him on his bullshit, who saw through the composed exterior everyone else accepted at face value.

Joe: Just landed. Heading to the Aria now. Any chance you want to come by? Just to talk.

He pressed send and set the phone down, not because he doubted what he said, but because the silence afterward was loud. The message was deliberate—he needed to talk to her. Still, his heartbeat kicked up as the three dots appeared, disappeared, then flickered back to life.

Riley: Give me two hours. Need to check in and get settled.

Simple. Direct. No emotion. But she was coming. That had to mean something.

* * *

Two hours later, Joe stood at the window of his expansive suite, gazing out at the Strip stretching below. The room was immaculate—king bed, separate sitting area, marble bathroom with a shower big enough for a linebacker. Standard luxury that would normally fade into the background of his consciousness.

Today, he noticed everything. The placement of the chairs. The minibar stocked with premium liquor. The subtle scent of the room—some generic "luxury" fragrance designed to mask the lingering cigarette smoke permeating every surface in Vegas.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. Joe took a breath, running a hand through his hair before crossing to answer it.

Riley stood in the hallway, one shoulder leaning casually against the doorframe. She wore an oversized Iron Maiden tee, soft and faded with age, the kind of shirt that had clearly lived a few lives before ending up in her closet. It hung loosely over black leggings, the hem brushing mid-thigh, and her scuffed white sneakers looked like they’d carried her through more than one impulsive night. A fuzzy leopard-print tote hung off one shoulder, absurdly cozy against the rest of her edge. Her hair was pulled into a loose, effortless bun, a few strands falling around her face in the kind of way that looked accidental but perfect. She smelled like vanilla and something warm—maybe sandalwood, maybe just her—and it hit Joe like muscle memory, yanking him straight back to Cincinnati.

"Hey," she said, her voice neutral but her blue eyes sharp, assessing.

"Hey," Joe replied, stepping back to let her in. "Thanks for coming."

“Nice place,” she said quietly, eyes moving across the room. “Kind of cold. But you make it feel less like that.”

There was an edge to her tone that hadn't been there in Cincinnati or New Orleans, a careful distance that felt foreign after the easy intimacy they'd shared.

"How was your flight?" Joe asked, moving toward the minibar. "Water? Or something stronger?"

"Water's fine," Riley replied, setting her bag on a side table. She didn't sit, instead moving to the window to look out at the view. “Flight was good. Andy spent most of it critiquing the liquor selection, but what else is new.”

Joe filled two glasses with water and brought one to her, careful to maintain some space between them as he handed it over. Their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange, and he felt the familiar spark of connection despite the tension hanging in the air.

"So," Riley said after taking a sip, her eyes meeting his over the rim of the glass, "Vegas."

"Vegas," Joe agreed, unsure how to navigate this new, careful version of them. He set his untouched water down on a nearby table. "This feels weird."

Riley's lips curved in a small, sad smile. "What does?"

"This," Joe gestured between them. "Us being so... formal with each other. It's not us."

"And what is 'us', exactly?" Riley asked, setting her glass down with deliberate care. "Because I've been trying to figure that out for a week, and I'm still coming up empty."

The directness of the question was pure Riley, cutting through his careful defenses with unsettling accuracy. Joe ran a hand through his hair, buying time.

"I didn't handle the Vegas thing well," he admitted finally. "When you mentioned being here the same weekend. I was focusing on all the ways it could go wrong instead of just... being glad to see you."

Riley's expression softened slightly. "And how do you feel now? About me being here?"

"Glad," Joe said without hesitation. "Relieved, actually. The distance this past week—the texts that felt like we were strangers, the phone calls where we both pretended everything was fine—I hated it."

"Me too," Riley admitted, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "But it wasn't just about Vegas, Joe. It was about what it revealed."

Joe knew she was right, but hearing it spoken aloud made his chest tighten. "Which was?"

"That you want me in your life, but only on your terms. In controlled environments where you don't have to worry about what anyone else might think or say." Riley's voice was even, not accusatory but matter-of-fact. "And I'm not sure I can be that for you—this separate, hidden piece of your life that doesn't touch anything else."

Joe took a step toward her, unable to maintain the physical distance between them any longer. "That's not what I want."

"Then what do you want?" Riley challenged, her blue eyes intense. "Because I've been trying to figure it out, and I still don't know."

The question hung between them, deceptively simple yet impossibly complex. Joe looked at her—really looked at her—and felt the familiar constriction in his chest. She'd somehow worked her way into parts of his life he'd always kept carefully separate, and that terrified him as much as it exhilarated him.

Joe took a step toward her, unable to maintain the physical distance between them any longer. The space between them felt charged, dangerous—like the moment before a blitz, when everything slows down and speeds up simultaneously.

"I want you," he said, the words rough with honesty. "But I don't know how to do this, Riley. How to balance what's happening between us with everything else."

She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them, like the words needed somewhere to land.

“That’s the thing, Joe, there is no perfect balance. Life is messy. Relationships are messy." She gestured between them. "This is messy. And you can't control it, no matter how hard you try."

Her words hit uncomfortably close to the truth. Control had always been Joe's foundation—in football, in his public image, in his private life. Riley represented a disruption to that control, a beautiful chaos he both craved and feared.

"I know," he admitted quietly. "And that scares me."

Riley took a step closer, close enough that he could see the flecks of darker blue in her irises. “It scares me too. After Ethan, I swore I wouldn’t let anyone close enough to hurt me again.” She glanced down for a second, her voice quieter now. “But then you happened.”

Joe reached for her hand, relieved when she didn't pull away. "I don't want to hurt you," he said. "That's the last thing I want."

"I know," Riley said, her fingers finally curling around his. "But you might. And I might hurt you too. That's the risk."

Joe nodded slowly, understanding what she wasn't saying. There were no guarantees, no perfect game plans for this. Just two people trying to navigate something neither had expected.

"So what happens now?" he asked. "We're both here in Vegas. Do we just... figure it out as we go?"

Riley studied him, something unreadable in her expression. "Maybe. But I need to know that you're actually trying, Joe. That you're not just going to pretend you don't know me if we run into each other at the fight tomorrow."

"I would never do that," Joe said firmly.

"Wouldn't you?" Riley challenged, though her tone held more sadness than anger. "Because it feels like that's exactly what you've been doing—keeping me separate, compartmentalized, away from your real life."

Joe wanted to argue, to defend himself, but the truth in her words stopped him. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hand, drawing her slightly closer. "I'm trying," he said, offering what he could. "I know that's not enough, but it's the truth."

Riley nodded slowly, a mix of emotions crossing her face. "At least that's honest." She gently extracted her hand from his. "I should go. Pete and Andy are waiting for me. We have dinner plans."

Joe felt a flicker of panic at the thought of her leaving with so much still unresolved between them. "When will I see you again?"

"I don't know," Riley said, retrieving her bag from the side table. "Maybe at the fight tomorrow. Maybe after."

The uncertainty in her voice twisted something in Joe's chest. This wasn't how he'd imagined their conversation would go.

"This isn't what I wanted," he said quietly as she moved toward the door.

Riley turned back to him, her expression softening slightly. "What did you want?"

Joe closed the distance between them, unable to maintain the space any longer. "I wanted to fix this. Whatever's been off between us since that call."

"Some things can't be fixed with one conversation, Joe," Riley said gently. "Some things take time. And maybe more than we've been willing to give."

She reached for the door, but Joe caught her arm, turning her back to face him. The tension between them had shifted, electric in a different way now. For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the air heavy with everything still unsaid.

Then Riley made a small sound—something between frustration and surrender—and closed the remaining distance between them. Her hands came up to frame his face, and before Joe could process what was happening, she was kissing him.

Unlike their previous kisses, this one wasn't tentative or sweet. It was hungry, almost desperate, as if Riley was trying to convey through touch what words had failed to express. Joe responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist to pull her closer, one hand sliding up to tangle in her hair.

The kiss deepened, months of tension and connection pouring into a single moment that felt both like a reunion and a goodbye. Riley pressed herself against him, her body familiar yet somehow new in the intensity of this embrace.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Riley's eyes were dark, her lips slightly swollen. She took a step back, her hand coming up to touch her mouth briefly.

"Just so you don't forget what you're risking," she said softly, her voice a little unsteady. "While you're trying to figure out what this is."

Before Joe could respond, she was out the door, leaving him alone with the lingering taste of her on his lips and the unsettling awareness that for the first time in his life, he had no playbook for what came next.

* * *

The hostess led Joe, Ja'Marr, and two of their friends through the crowded restaurant at the Cosmopolitan. The place was buzzing with fight weekend energy, exactly the Vegas atmosphere they'd come for.

"This spot is perfect," Ja'Marr said, scanning the crowd. "Good call coming here."

Joe nodded, but his attention had already locked onto a booth across the restaurant. Riley sat there, surrounded by friends, laughing at something the wild-haired guy next to her had said. She wore a simple black dress that left her shoulders bare, her hair swept up elegantly. The sight of her – vibrant, relaxed, in her element – made his chest tighten.

What caught his attention more was how close she sat to the lanky guy with black hair. He had his arm draped casually behind her on the booth, leaning in to speak directly into her ear. The familiarity in their body language was unmistakable.

"Mr. Burrow, your table is right—" The hostess stopped when she realized Joe wasn't listening.

"Joe?" Ja'Marr followed his line of sight. "Oh, your girl's here."

Joe nodded, still watching as Riley playfully shoved the guy away from her, laughing at whatever he'd said.

"Let's go say hi," Joe decided, looking at Ja'Marr and their friends.

"I'm down," Ja'Marr agreed immediately, always ready to be social. "Might as well see what's got you so distracted."

Their other friends, Mike and Derrick, nodded in agreement, curious about the woman who'd caught Joe's attention.

As they made their way across the restaurant toward Riley's table, Joe felt a flutter of nervousness that had nothing to do with approaching strangers and everything to do with seeing Riley after their tense conversation earlier.

"Don't look now, but Joe is heading this way," Pete said under his breath, reaching for his drink.

Riley had already spotted Joe coming toward them with Ja'Marr and two other guys. Despite everything, her pulse quickened. She hadn't expected him to approach them – not after how they'd left things in his suite.

"This should be interesting," Haley murmured, subtly adjusting her position to better observe the approaching quarterback.

"Who's Joe?" Dom asked, arm still casually draped behind Riley on the booth.

"The guy I told you about," Riley answered quickly. "The quarterback."

"Right, the American football one," Dom nodded, though his expression suggested this meant little to him. "The serious bloke."

Before Riley could respond, Joe reached their table with his friends. Up close, the contrast between him and her crew was even sharper—Joe in a crisp t-shirt and black jacket, dark jeans that fit just right. Composed, understated. Dom beside her was all colorful chaos in a patterned suit and platform boots.

"Hey," Joe said, his eyes finding hers before briefly scanning the table.

"Hey yourself," Riley replied, surprised by how naturally her smile came. "Didn't know you'd be here tonight."

“Didn’t know you’d be here either,” he said. “Good timing, I guess.” He gestured to his companions. "This is Ja'Marr, Mike, and Derrick."

Ja'Marr stepped forward with an easy smile, extending his hand to Riley. "Nice to finally meet you. Joe's been completely useless at conversation since we landed in Vegas."

Riley laughed, immediately warming to his straightforward charm. "Glad to know I'm not the only one he's been distracted around."

"I just wanted to come say hi," Joe said, his eyes returning to Riley. "Didn't mean to interrupt your dinner."

"You're not interrupting," Riley assured him. "Joe, these are my friends," she said, gesturing around the table. "Pete and Andy from the band, my friend Haley, and this is Dominic and Colson."

Dom extended his hand, flashing his characteristic wide smile. "Dominic Harrison. Pleasure."

Joe shook his hand with a nod. "Joe Burrow."

"Burrow?" Colson leaned forward with sudden interest. "The Cincinnati quarterback? Man, that Super Bowl game was insane."

Joe nodded, clearly used to being recognized. "That's me."

"Impressive," Colson said, studying Joe with new respect.

Riley noticed Joe's eyes flick briefly to Dom's arm, still draped casually behind her on the booth. She shifted slightly, creating a small but deliberate space between herself and Dom.

"You here for the fight tomorrow?" Pete asked, addressing Joe and his friends.

"Yeah, can't wait," Ja'Marr answered enthusiastically. "Should be epic."

"We'll be there too," Riley said. "Ringside seats."

"No way," Ja'Marr responded with genuine enthusiasm. "We're ringside too. First row."

"Same." Andy added. "Perks of the job, I guess."

"Sounds like we'll be seeing each other tomorrow then," Joe said with a small smile.

The prospect hung between them, tentative but hopeful. Riley found herself nodding. "Looking forward to it."

With a final nod to the group, Joe and his friends returned to their table. Riley felt everyone's eyes on her as she took a long sip of her drink.

"So that's the quarterback," Haley said, a hint of approval in her voice. "He's got that whole strong, silent thing going on."

"His friends seem cool," Pete offered.

"That Ja'Marr guy is definitely cool," Haley agreed. "Very charming."

Dom leaned in, his voice low enough that only Riley could hear. "He didn't much like me having my arm around you."

Riley gave him a warning look. "Don't start."

"I'm just saying," Dom continued with a mischievous grin, "man definitely has feelings for you. The way he looked at me—if looks could kill..."

Riley rolled her eyes, though she'd noticed it too – that flash of something possessive in Joe's eyes when he'd first approached.

"Ancient history, you and me," Dom said, reading her expression. "But he doesn't know that, does he?"

"It's not relevant," Riley said firmly.

Dom raised his hands in surrender, but his grin remained. "Whatever you say, love."

The conversation moved on, but Riley found her attention repeatedly drawn to Joe's table across the restaurant. Once or twice, she caught him looking back at her, their eyes meeting briefly before both looked away.

After their third round of drinks, Riley stood up. "I'm going to the restroom," she announced, needing a moment away from the group's scrutiny and her own conflicted thoughts.

"Want company?" Haley offered.

"I'm good," Riley replied, grabbing her small purse. "Be right back."

As she wound her way through the crowded restaurant, Riley felt a strange mix of emotions. Joe's gesture tonight had surprised her – it was a small step, but an important one. Yet their fundamental issue remained unresolved. The question of whether they could bridge their different worlds, different needs, still hung between them.

She pushed open the door to the restroom, grateful to find it relatively empty. Leaning against the counter, Riley took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. But all she could think about was Joe – the guarded hope in his eyes when he'd mentioned seeing her at the fight, the unmistakable tension when he'd seen her with Dom.

* * *

From his table, Joe watched as Riley disappeared down the hallway to the restrooms, the sway of her hips drawing more than just his attention. The colorful-haired musician—Dom—watched her go with a familiarity that made Joe's jaw clench.

"You gonna sit there staring after her all night?" Ja'Marr's voice cut through his thoughts.

"What? No," Joe replied, turning back to their conversation, though his focus remained elsewhere.

“Man, you know you want to,” Ja’Marr said with a knowing grin. “Just go already.”

Joe hesitated only briefly before standing, surprising himself with the decision. The Joe Burrow the world knew—disciplined, methodical, controlled—didn't follow women to bathrooms in Vegas restaurants. But the Joe Burrow sitting here, watching another man touch Riley with casual intimacy, wasn't feeling particularly disciplined or controlled.

Joe hesitated only briefly before standing up. "I'll be back."

As he walked toward the hallway where Riley had disappeared, Joe wasn't entirely sure what he planned to say. Their earlier conversation in his suite had ended with more questions than answers. But seeing her tonight, surrounded by her friends, so vibrant and alive, had crystalized something for him.

He wasn't ready to let her go. Not without at least trying to figure out what this was between them.

With that thought in mind, Joe rounded the corner into the hallway, determined to find some resolution – or at least a path forward – before the night was over.

Riley stood at the marble sink, letting the cold water run over her wrists, a trick she'd learned years ago to cool down when her mind was racing. The bathroom was mercifully empty—one of those ridiculously opulent Vegas restrooms with plush seating areas and soft lighting.

The door opened behind her. She glanced up at the mirror, expecting another patron, but instead saw Joe's reflection. Their eyes locked in the glass, and something in his expression made her pulse quicken.

Without a word, Joe reached behind him and turned the lock.

"Women's bathroom," Riley said, turning to face him. Not a question, not a protest—just a statement of fact.

"I don't care," Joe replied, his voice low and intent as he crossed the space between them.

There was something different about him—a rawness she'd never seen before, the carefully maintained composure completely gone. Joe Burrow looked like a man who'd made a decision and was done overthinking it.

“Looked like you were real close with that guy." Joe said, stopping just inches from her.

"With Dom?" Riley raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

Joe stopped just in front of her, close but not touching. His voice was low.

“You and him. What’s the deal?”

Riley tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He glanced toward the lounge behind them, jaw tight. “He had his hands on you like it wasn’t the first time.”

She let out a quiet breath. “You jealous?”

“I’m asking.” His eyes didn’t move from hers. “How well does he know you?”

Riley blinked, her mouth tightening just slightly. “Why does it matter?”

Joe’s jaw flexed. He didn’t look away.

“Because I fucked up this week,” he said, the words quieter than she expected. “And you’ve put space between us ever since.” He shook his head, almost like he was tired of himself. “You barely text back. You dodge calls. And now you’re here, looking at someone else like it’s easier.”

She didn’t answer, and he didn’t wait.

“Because I feel like I’m already losing you,” Joe said, low and unguarded. “And I haven’t even had the chance to call you mine.”

The honesty in his voice struck her more powerfully than any practiced words could have. This wasn't careful, controlled Joe. This was something raw and real—jealousy and desire and frustration all mingled together.

Before Riley could respond, Joe closed the final distance between them. One hand curved around the back of her neck while the other gripped her waist, pulling her against him as his mouth found hers. There was nothing careful about this kiss—it was hungry, possessive, demanding.

Riley responded instantly, her fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer. This wasn't the controlled, measured Joe she'd known in Cincinnati. This was something else entirely—raw and unfiltered, all restraint abandoned.

She felt herself being lifted onto the counter, cool marble shocking against her heated skin as Joe's hands gripped her thighs. The contrast between the cold surface and his burning touch made her gasp. Riley wrapped her legs around him, drawing him against her as the kiss deepened. She could taste the faint bitterness of whiskey on his tongue, feel the controlled strength in his hands as they moved beneath her dress—always measured, always deliberate, even now.

Joe’s mouth traveled down her neck, beard scraping lightly against her sensitive skin, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

“I feel like I’m losing my mind,” he murmured, his voice lower than she’d ever heard it, vibrating against her collarbone.

Riley tipped her head back, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Then let’s lose it together.”

He laughed against her collarbone, a low rumble she felt more than heard. His hands found the edge of her underwear, fingers hooking around the delicate fabric. "Can I?" he asked, voice rough with desire.

"Yes," Riley breathed, lifting slightly to help him.

Joe knelt, drawing the fabric down her legs with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving hers. The sight of Joe Burrow on his knees before her, looking up with undisguised want, sent heat coursing through her body.

"Fuck, look at you." he said, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh that made her breath catch.

Joe’s lips skimmed the inside of her thigh, warm breath ghosting over her skin as he dragged his mouth higher—soft, open-mouthed kisses that made her tremble. He didn’t rush. Didn’t tease. Just took his time, like he was mapping her. Like he was making sure she’d feel this later, when they weren’t touching anymore.

Riley bit her lip, her hand slipping behind her to grip the edge of the counter, knuckles white against the marble. Her other hand threaded into his hair, tugging gently—half to anchor herself, half to ground him there.

“Joe,” she whispered, not as a plea, but a reminder. That she was here. That this was real. That she wanted him as wrecked as she was.

Her voice made him groan, low and guttural, against the inside of her thigh. She felt it reverberate straight through her core. His grip tightened. Not rough, not yet—but urgent. Like if he didn’t hold her steady, he might lose the thread of himself completely.

And then—he gave in.

Joe pressed his mouth to her with a hunger that didn’t ask for permission. No hesitation. No tease. Just the full weight of everything he’d been holding back—weeks of restraint undone in a single, claiming sweep of his tongue.

Riley gasped, her spine arching off the mirror-backed wall. The cool air met her skin where her dress had bunched around her hips, but all she could feel was him. The heat of his mouth. The grip of his hands. The sharp edge of his stubble scraping in places that made her thighs tremble.

He licked into her like he was angry about it—like he hated that anyone else had touched her, seen her, heard the sounds she was making now. He was careful, yes—but not gentle. There was nothing soft about the way his mouth moved. Nothing patient in the way his tongue circled and pressed and devoured.

“Jesus,” she breathed, one hand flying to his shoulder, the other threading into his hair. He made a sound at that—something low and possessive—and doubled down, tongue flicking hard against her clit until she whimpered.

The kind of sound that sounded like surrender. And maybe it was. But not to him—not entirely. She was giving herself to this, to them. And fuck, he felt it.

Joe’s fingers flexed against her thighs, thumbs digging in just enough to mark. She felt him adjust slightly, then suck—hard—and her hips jerked in his hands.

“Joe,” she gasped again, shakier now. “Fuck—please—”

That did something to him. She felt it in the way his tongue dragged lower, slower, thicker—like he wanted to wreck her. Like he needed to be the one who took her apart first, before anyone else could try.

He groaned again—louder this time, almost a curse—burying himself deeper, eating like he was trying to erase whatever version of her had existed before this.

And when she cried out—louder than she meant to, thighs shaking, back bowed—then he looked up at her.

Eyes wild.

Breath ragged.

Mouth wet.

He didn’t say it out loud, but she could feel it in the heat of his stare.

Mine.

“This is so fucked,” he muttered, voice gutted. His forehead dropped to her thigh, eyes squeezed shut, hands still gripping her like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

She looked down at him, eyes glassy. “Then show me how fucked it is.”

“You’re shaking,” he rasped, dark and satisfied.

“Because you won’t fuck me,” she panted, half-laugh, half-plea.

He lifted his head at that. His mouth was swollen, his eyes wrecked—pure heat and hunger and a little bit of madness. His jaw clenched as he took her in.

“Jesus, Bird,” he said, voice hoarse. “I can’t handle you like this.” It slipped out, unguarded. “Not tonight.”

She slid her fingers into his hair, tugging gently but firm—until his gaze snapped back to hers.

“I’m not trying to break you, Joe,” she said softly. “I just want to be close.”

Joe didn’t move at first. Just stared at her—like he was trying to memorize this version of her, flushed and reckless, daring him to lose control.

Then he rose.

Not fast. Not slow. Just with purpose. Like he’d finally given in.

The second he was standing, Riley reached for him—no hesitation, no nerves. Her fingers found the button of his jeans, popping it open with a sharp flick. The zipper followed, slow and deliberate. Then her hand slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around him with shaky, unflinching precision.

The sound Joe made when she touched him was raw—broken open at the seams, like it had been waiting to escape all night.

He kissed her hard, deep, his hands bracketing her thighs like he needed her pulse to anchor him.

And then—

A knock. Sharp. Too real.

“Riley?” Haley’s voice called from outside the door. “You still in there?”

Riley froze, her hand still inside Joe’s jeans, his fingers digging into her thighs. They stared at each other, breath shallow and ragged, the air between them thick with heat and hesitation.

“Yeah,” she called back, remarkably steady, like her heart wasn’t slamming against her ribs. “Just fixing my makeup. Be out in a minute.”

“Dom’s looking for you,” Haley replied. “Getting kind of pushy about it, actually.”

Joe’s expression darkened at the mention of Dom’s name. His grip tightened, possessive and unthinking, like some part of him couldn’t help it. Something flickered in his eyes—jealousy, raw and unfiltered.

“Tell him I’ll be right there,” Riley said, not looking away from Joe.

“You want me to wait?”

“No, I’m good. Go ahead.”

Haley’s footsteps faded. Neither of them moved. Joe stayed pressed against her, pulse hammering under her hands, both of them strung out and teetering.

“Dom’s looking for you,” he repeated, voice low, controlled—but barely.

Riley didn’t flinch. “I’m not with Dom.”

“But you were.” He wasn’t accusing—just stating it. Like it had been living under his skin for too long.

“A long time ago,” she said quietly. “It didn’t mean anything.”

Joe’s jaw ticked. “Didn’t look that way tonight.”

“Well, I’m not the one in here with him, am I?” she said, her voice sharpening just slightly. Her hand flexed where it still held him, and Joe’s breath hitched, involuntary and wrecked. “I’m here with you.”

That seemed to crack something open in him. He kissed her hard—no pretense, no restraint, just full possession. His hands slid under her thighs again, lifting her slightly, pressing in like he couldn’t stand the space between them.

Riley rocked her hips into him, body still trembling from earlier, still open and aching for more. Joe’s hand moved between them, fingers slipping over her, slow and sure, drawing another soft gasp from her lips.

The door was still locked.

But the night had already come undone.

Joe dragged her closer, his grip firm at her waist, every line of his body tense with barely restrained frustration.

“He was touching you like he doesn’t know it’s over,” Joe said low, mouth brushing her skin. “Like I wasn't standing right there.”

“He doesn’t get to touch me,” Riley whispered, nails digging into his back. “Not anymore.”

Joe’s jaw flexed. “But he has.”

Riley nodded once, breathing uneven. “Yeah. He has.”

Joe stilled—just for a beat. “I fucking hate that.”

She tilted her head, met his gaze. “Then make me forget him.”

That did it.

He shoved her dress up with both hands, guiding himself with a roughness that bordered on desperate, but never careless. He pushed into her in one long, devastating stroke, the stretch so sharp and full it knocked the breath from her lungs.

"Christ, Bird," he rasped, forehead pressed to hers, his voice breaking open. "He ever get you like this?"

Riley gasped, hips rolling into him, her body already trembling. "No. Never like this."

Joe growled low in his throat, hips snapping forward again, harder this time. "Say it again."

"Never like this," she moaned, gripping his shoulders, holding onto him like the truth. "No one but you."

His mouth crushed hers, tongue sweeping in with a heat that stole what little breath she had left. He fucked her like it mattered. Like every thrust was a statement. A claim. Like jealousy had burned a hole through his restraint and all that was left was this—raw, unfiltered need.

Riley’s head fell back, hands tangled in his hair as her body clenched around him, already spiraling again. “Joe—fuck—don’t stop.”

“I’m not fucking stopping,” he growled. “Not when you’re saying my name like that.”

Her legs tightened around his hips, dragging him deeper. Their bodies were slick with heat, the rhythm a little brutal now, like he was trying to bury every trace of Dom beneath her skin and replace it with him.

“Say it again,” he gritted.

“Joe,” she sobbed, “It’s only you.”

His hands were everywhere—her waist, her thigh, her jaw. His breath hot at her ear as he ground into her with every ounce of want he’d held back until now.

And somewhere between the bite of jealousy and the softness of her saying his name like that, he unraveled.

Riley clung to him, nails scoring down his back, her cries muffled against his mouth as her orgasm surged through her—sudden, fierce, overwhelming.

She shattered around him, her body trembling with it, breath catching in a sharp, helpless gasp. Joe groaned against her throat, his rhythm faltering as she clenched tight around him.

“Fuck, Riley—” His voice cracked, ragged. “God, I—”

He followed with a broken sound, burying himself deep one last time as he came hard, his whole body tensing, jaw locked, breath ripped out of him.

For a long moment, they didn’t move.

Their foreheads pressed together. Chest to chest. Breathing hard. The bathroom quiet except for the sound of the air conditioning humming faintly through the vents and their harsh, stuttering breaths.

Joe was still inside her, his grip firm but not desperate now—like he didn’t know whether to let go or hold on tighter.

Riley’s body shook against his, still pulsing with aftershocks. Her head dropped to his shoulder, breath warm and uneven against his neck. Joe didn’t move. Couldn’t. His jeans were shoved halfway down his thighs, her dress still bunched up around her waist, their bodies tangled and pressed tight against the bathroom door.

His hands stayed where they were—one gripping her hip, the other braced against the door like he needed it to stay upright.

His forehead pressed to hers, lips brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

And then, quietly—like it scraped something raw on the way out:

“This doesn’t fix anything, does it?”

Riley’s eyes fluttered open. She didn’t pull back, didn’t move. Just stayed wrapped around him, cheek to his jaw, heartbeat loud in her ears.

“No,” she said, soft. Honest. “But I'm not sorry it happened.”

Joe exhaled, rough. His hands curled a little tighter around her.

“We saw you with him.”

A breath.

“It fucked with me.”

“I wasn’t trying to mess with you.”

She held his gaze. “But I get why it did.”

“I hate that he’s touched you,” he said, voice low, like he hated saying it out loud even more. “And that you let him.” Riley pulled back enough to look at him, flushed and wrecked and wide open.

“It didn’t.”

She held his gaze.

“It didn’t mean what this does.”

That seemed to steady him, just barely. His jaw twitched. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Then he rested his forehead against hers again.

For a beat, neither of them spoke. Her dress still hiked up. His jeans still undone. Breath still shallow, skin still flushed, everything still echoing

Joe didn’t move.

Because this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

But for a moment—just one—they stood there, forehead to forehead, hearts still pounding, tangled up in the mess they’d made together.

“I don’t know what to do with this, Riley,” he murmured finally, voice barely above a whisper. “How to be the man I’ve built myself to be… and still be what you need.”

Riley’s fingers curled around the fabric of his t-shirt, soft and rumpled between them.

“Maybe it’s not one or the other,” she said quietly. “Maybe you don’t have to choose. Maybe you just need to be you. The real you.”

Joe let out a rough exhale. “I don’t even know who that is anymore.”

She leaned in, brushed her lips to his cheek—gentle and grounding.

“You’re still you,” she said quietly. “Even like this.”

His eyes closed for a beat, like that idea scared him and settled him all at once.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, really look at her, flushed and messy and still radiant under the flickering bathroom light.

“Tomorrow,” he said, more certain this time. “After the fight. Let’s talk. Really talk.”

Riley nodded once. “Okay.”

They stood there a moment longer, then quietly started to pull themselves back together—straightening clothes, wiping smeared lipstick, running shaking fingers through tangled hair. The heat of what had just happened still clung to the walls, but something else sat underneath now. Not regret. Not exactly clarity either. But maybe a beginning.

Joe reached for the lock.

And just as he twisted it and pulled the door open—

Haley stood there, hand raised, mid-knock, eyes wide like she’d just caught them mid-crime.

Riley blinked.

"Oh," Haley said, her expression shifting from concern to delight. "Well, this explains a lot."

Riley felt her face heat up, but couldn't quite manage to feel embarrassed. "Haley—"

“Don’t even try,” Haley said, grinning. Her eyes flicked to Joe. “We technically met, but now I feel like I've got a better read on you.”

“Hope it’s not a bad one,” Joe said, a small smile pulling at his mouth. There was the faintest hint of color in his cheeks, but he held her gaze.

“Didn’t say it was bad. Just clearer.”

"I should get back," he said to Riley, his hand briefly squeezing hers. "Ja'Marr's probably wondering where I disappeared to."

"Though probably not wondering very hard," Haley muttered, eyes twinkling.

As Joe slipped past them into the hallway, Haley watched him go with undisguised amusement. The moment he was out of earshot, she turned to Riley, eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline.

"A bathroom? Really?" she whispered, her voice a mixture of scandal and admiration. "How very rock star of you."

Riley couldn’t help but laugh. “Shut up.”

Haley raised a brow, delight dancing in her eyes. “Please. Like this is the first time you’ve pulled some chaotic shit in a public bathroom. If anything, I’m disappointed it took this long.”

As they made their way back toward the table, the buzz of the restaurant filtering back in, Haley leaned in close. “So, for the record? I think I’m Team Quarterback now.”

Riley didn’t answer right away. Her heart was still thudding in her chest, her lips swollen, her body thrumming with the echoes of everything Joe had made her feel. Want. Fear. Hope. A dangerous, heady cocktail she hadn’t quite figured out how to hold yet.

She exhaled a shaky breath, half-laugh, half-confession. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Haley glanced sideways at her, reading more than Riley had meant to give away, but didn’t push.

“Okay,” she said lightly. “But I’m still ordering us a celebration drink. For, you know—bravery. Or reckless sex. Whichever.”

Riley snorted. “Same thing, really.”

And for the first time in days, she didn’t feel like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

Riley slid back into her seat like nothing had happened, smoothing her dress with the grace of someone who had absolutely just had sex in a bathroom and was committed to pretending otherwise.

Haley followed a second later, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she might bleed.

When they got back to the table, Haley plopped down in her seat with exaggerated satisfaction, took one long look at her, and said cheerfully, “Wow. You look incredible. Honestly, great call taking twenty minutes in the bathroom to fix your face. So natural. So radiant. So… freshly rearranged.”

Riley arched a brow, sliding into the empty chair next to her. “You done?”

“Oh, not even close,” Haley whispered, sipping her drink like it was her job.

Pete nodded, eyes narrowing like he was analyzing her under a ring light. “Yeah, real radiant. Freshly flushed. Like you just discovered the perfect highlighter.”

Across the table, Dom blinked. “Wait. That was a makeup fix?”

“You guys are hilarious,” Riley said flatly, reaching for her drink like she hadn’t just committed a felony against public decency.

Dom looked at her. Then at Joe—just settling back into his seat, hair clearly mussed, trying so hard to look normal.

“No,” Dom said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Nooooo.”

Haley sipped her wine like it was piping hot tea. “Say it with me, Dom. Bathroom. Bang.”

Dom let out a dramatic groan, flopping against the back of his chair like he’d just been stabbed. “You left me. To get fucked in a bathroom. With a fuckin’ jock. I feel personally victimised.”

“I didn’t leave you,” Riley said dryly. “I excused myself.”

“To go get railed by the quarterback in the ladies’ room!” Dom cried, scandalized. “Have some respect. At least sneak off to the service hallway like a proper slut.”

Pete raised his glass solemnly. “Honestly, we support you. But also, I’d like to file a formal complaint on behalf of the rest of us who now have to sit here and pretend Joe Burrow didn’t just raw dog our singer in a public restroom.”

Haley grinned into her wine. “Speak for yourself. I’m thriving.”

* * *

Joe slid back into his seat like nothing had happened.

Ja’Marr raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Joe reached for his water, nodding once. “Yep.”

A beat of silence.

Mike looked him up and down. “You come back looking like that and expect us not to ask questions?”

Derrick blinked at him. “Your curls are fucked up.”

Ja’Marr didn’t even try to hide the grin. “Bro. Did you just hit a bathroom quickie? Like… you?”

Joe didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

Ja’Marr let out a low whistle. “Duuuude.”

Derrick leaned back in his chair, grinning. “In the bathroom, my guy?”

Mike just shook his head, half impressed, half horrified. “That’s not even your style. You good?

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, trying to look unbothered. “What do you think?”

That sent Derrick into full wheeze-laugh mode. “I think you’re fucked, is what I think.”

Joe gave them all a look, the kind that was supposed to say drop it—but with his hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, and mouth still red around the edges, it didn’t land the way he wanted it to.

“Man,” Mike said, shaking his head slowly, “I thought we were the bad influences on you.”

“She’s got him moving reckless,” Derrick said, grinning. “Whole vibe changed. That’s rockstar influence, bro.

Ja’Marr pointed his fork at Joe, eyes gleaming. “You’ve known her for what, two months? And you’re already out here throwin’ away your whole brand in a damn bathroom stall?”

Derrick nearly choked on his drink.

Joe shook his head, making no effort to fix his hair or straighten his shirt. "We done talking about this?"

"Oh, we're just getting started," Ja'Marr said, his grin widening. "Joe Burrow throwing caution to the wind? This is historical."

"Man's out here living," Derrick added, raising his glass in mock salute. "One minute he's worried about someone taking his picture, next he's—"

"Next round's on me if we change the subject," Joe cut in, his expression deadpan but eyes betraying a hint of amusement.

Mike leaned back, studying Joe. "Never thought I'd see the day. Miss Riley's got you breaking your own rules."

Joe's phone lit up with a text. He glanced down, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"There she is," Ja'Marr said, nodding toward the message. "What's she saying? 'Thanks for the quickie'?"

Joe pocketed his phone without responding, but the slight flush creeping up his neck told them everything.

"Y'all finished?" Joe asked, picking up his fork and knife to return to his barely-touched steak.

"Not by a long shot," Mike said, "but I'll save the rest for when you've had a few more drinks."

As the conversation reluctantly shifted to tomorrow's fight predictions, Joe found himself glancing across the restaurant, catching Riley's eye just as she returned to her table. She shot him a tiny, secret smile that made his heart slam against his ribs.

Derrick noticed the exchange and shook his head. "Man, you are so far gone."

This time, Joe didn't bother denying it.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind them with a thud, and Riley immediately kicked off her heels, one landing under the credenza and the other bouncing off the edge of the sofa. Haley followed suit, letting out a dramatic sigh as she tugged off her lashes and stuck them to the edge of a lamp.

“Water,” Riley groaned, stumbling toward the minibar. “Where the fuck is the water.”

“There was some in here earlier, I swear,” Haley muttered, yanking open drawers like she was disarming a bomb. “I will drink out of a flower vase if I have to.”

Riley finally pulled out two half-warm bottles and held them up in triumph. “Not cold, but we’ll survive.”

They collapsed onto the bed, chugging like they’d just crossed a desert, legs tangled, dresses wrinkled, adrenaline still humming low beneath the exhaustion.

For a beat, they just sat there, catching their breath in the quiet.

Then Haley glanced sideways, a slow grin spreading. “So… bathroom bang?”

They lay there like that for a minute, chests rising and falling, the city glittering behind the curtains. The quiet wrapped around them like an old song, familiar and warm.

Then Riley exhaled. “You know me.”

It wasn’t a question.

Haley turned her head. “Yeah. I do.”

“I mean—like, I’m not new to… bathrooms and making questionable decisions in semi-public places.”

Riley. You once left Ethan with a hickey and a black eye in the same weekend and called it foreplay.”

Riley cracked a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. And then he left me on read for three days and told Rolling Stone we were ‘exploring different energies.’”

Haley’s expression softened. “This isn’t that.”

“I know,” Riley said quietly. “That’s what scares me.”

“I really like this guy,” Riley said quietly, staring up at the ceiling like the truth might sting less if she didn’t look at anyone. “More than I’ve ever let myself like anyone. Not even Ethan—not like this.”

Haley didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Just let Riley keep going.

“When it’s just us, it’s… different. He’s present. Soft. Like he’s in it with me. Like he wants it just as much as I do.” She exhaled slowly. “But then we step out into the world, or I try to talk about how we actually do this, how we share space between his life and mine—and it’s like he disappears behind some wall. He pulls back. And I don’t know why.”

She paused. The words felt like they were unspooling from somewhere deep.

“I spent so long after Ethan reclaiming everything he chipped away at. My voice. My name. My fucking agency. I told myself I’d never let anyone make me feel small or invisible again.”

Her throat tightened.

“But this is starting to feel like I’m getting jerked around in a different way. With Ethan, everything was public. All the chaos, the performance—it was always for show. With Joe, it’s the opposite. He wants me in private. Quietly. Like he’s afraid to want me out loud.”

She turned her head, finally meeting Haley’s eyes.

“And I don’t know what that means. Or what I’m supposed to do with it.”

Haley didn’t speak right away. She just looked at Riley for a long moment, the kind of look that came from knowing someone too well to bullshit them.

Then she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow. “Okay, first of all? You’re not crazy.”

Riley let out a shaky breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

Haley continued, steady and sure. “What you’re describing? That dissonance—that whiplash between how he is with you alone versus how he is out there? That matters. It’s real. And it doesn’t make you needy or dramatic for noticing it.”

She paused, her voice softening. “I watched Ethan mess with your head in front of a million people. I watched you claw your way out of that, step by fucking step. So yeah, maybe Joe’s not doing the same thing—but it still feels like you’re being asked to live in the shadows. And that’s not nothing.”

Riley’s eyes stung, but she didn’t blink.

“I think he cares about you,” Haley said gently. “Like—really cares about you. But that doesn’t mean he knows how to carry all of it. The public part. The risk. The letting go of the version of himself he’s spent years curating.

She reached out, tugging lightly at the sleeve of Riley’s sweatshirt. “But the thing is, you already know who you are. You’ve done the work. You’re not the girl who bends to fit anymore.”

She tilted her head. “So the question isn’t whether he wants to be seen with you. The question is whether you are willing to disappear again.”

Riley swallowed hard, her throat thick. For a second, she didn’t say anything. Just stared up at the ceiling, eyes glassy, chest rising slow and uneven beneath the hoodie she’d stolen from Joe days ago.

“No,” she said finally. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just certain. “I’m not.”

Haley didn’t press her—just waited.

“I worked too fucking hard to get here,” Riley said, voice gaining shape now, steadier with every word. “To be proud of who I am. To take up space without apologizing. To sing what I want. Wear what I want. Love how I want.”

She paused, pressing her knuckles to her lips like the truth might fall out too fast.

“I want him. God, I do. But I’m not going back to hiding just because it makes someone else more comfortable. I can’t be the secret. I won't be.”

She turned her head toward Haley, eyes still burning. “I want all of it. I want to feel like I can stand next to him and not wonder if I’m too much or too loud or too visible.”

Haley reached over, linking their pinkies without looking. “Then he’s either gonna meet you there… or he’s gonna miss out.”

Riley exhaled slowly, her chest loosening just enough to breathe.

“But,” Haley added, voice softer now, “give him a little time, okay? Not forever. Not enough to make yourself small. Just enough to see if he figures out what’s right in front of him.”

Riley nodded, barely. “Yeah.”

“‘Cause I like this one,” Haley said, tugging their pinkies. “But I like you more.”

Riley smiled at that—wobbly but real. “Thanks, YeaYea.”

“Anytime, slut.”

Riley huffed a laugh and let her eyes drift shut, Haley’s hand still looped through hers. The hotel room was quiet now, the chaos of the night behind them. But the clarity lingered, sharp and necessary.

* * *

The door clicked shut behind him with a soft finality. Joe stepped into his suite, the hush of the hallway replaced by the low hum of the air conditioning and the muffled thump of bass still lingering in his chest. His jacket was already off, shirt untucked, the top two buttons undone. His fingers ran through his hair—restless, aimless—before he dropped the keycard on the table and stood there for a beat too long.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The bathroom mirror caught his reflection—hair mussed, collar wrinkled, lips still faintly swollen from kissing her like he’d never get another chance.

He exhaled through his nose and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. He could still taste her. Still feel her under his hands. Still hear her saying “Then make me forget him.”

And that look in her eyes when she said it—like she saw all the cracks he’d tried to hide and wanted him anyway.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Took a long sip from the bottle of water someone had left beside the bed. It didn’t help much.

Everything he’d worked to build—every careful, quiet, calculated piece of his life—felt suddenly unstable. Like it couldn’t hold her. Like it couldn’t hold this.

She made him reckless. But she also made him honest. And that was scarier.

Joe picked up his phone. Opened their thread. Paused.

Then began typing.

Joe stared at his phone. The quiet in the suite was heavy—too heavy. He ran a hand through his hair, opened their thread, and started typing.

Draft 1:

You know I didn’t mean to be like that tonight. I just—

[Backspace. All of it.]

Draft 2:

Sorry if I made things worse.

[Delete.]

Draft 3:

I shouldn’t have lost it like that. Dom isn’t the problem. I am.

[Still wrong. Too clinical.]

Draft 4:

I want you. That’s all I know. I want you and I don’t know how to do this right but I’m trying.

[He stared. Shook his head. Deleted it.]

He tossed the phone down. Paced. Picked it back up.

Deep breath. This time, he didn’t overthink.

Joe (sent): I know I was outta line tonight. I was jealous and I took it out on you. That’s not who I want to be, and you didn’t deserve that. I know the bathroom didn’t fix anything. And I don’t have the right to ask you to be patient with me. But I’m asking anyway. I’ve never felt like this before. Never wanted something like this before. I want to talk tomorrow. Really talk. After the fight. He stared at the screen.

Sent.

Then tossed the phone on the nightstand like it burned.

Riley’s phone buzzed on the comforter between them.

She reached for it instinctively, thumb swiping across the screen. Her brows lifted as she read, and she didn’t say anything at first—just blinked, like she wasn’t expecting to hear from him. Not tonight.

Haley clocked the shift immediately. “What?”

Riley handed her the phone without a word.

Haley read it once. Then again. Her mouth opened, then closed. “Okay… damn. That’s…” She blinked. “That’s actually kind of hot. In a ‘men and their damage’ kind of way.”

Riley didn’t smile. Not yet. Her eyes were still on the screen. “He’s never texted me like this.”

“Do you want to respond?”

Riley took the phone back, staring at the message. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. For a second, her face was unreadable.

Then she texted.

Riley: You were outta line. But don’t twist it—I wanted you. That wasn’t a mistake. You got me all messed up too, Joe.

She set the phone down on her chest and exhaled slow, like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

Haley didn’t press. She just sank deeper into the pillows beside her, nudging a bottle of water into Riley’s hand.

“Get some sleep,” she said softly. “You’ll need it.”

Riley didn’t answer. Just closed her eyes and let herself hope.

Riley set her phone down on the duvet and stared at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths that didn’t feel entirely steady.

Haley watched her for a beat, then nudged her gently with her elbow. “Hey.”

Riley turned her head. “What?”

Haley offered a small smile—softer than before, stripped of all the teasing. “I know it’s messy. But a guy doesn’t send something like that if he doesn’t care.”

Riley didn’t say anything.

Haley reached over and plucked the bottle of water from the nightstand, handing it over. “You don’t gotta know how it ends tonight. But that text? That was a man trying. And that matters.”

Riley took the water but didn’t drink it. Just nodded once, slow. Like she was filing it away somewhere private.

“Sleep,” Haley added, curling back into the pillows. “Tomorrow’s gonna be long.”

Riley whispered, almost to herself, “Yeah. But maybe good, too.”

Neither of them said anything after that.

The room went quiet, lit only by the glow of the city outside, and for the first time in days—Riley let herself believe it might not all fall apart.

youtube

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #jiley #hide fanfic #joe burrow fluff #nfl fan fic #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction #nfl series #Youtube

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joyswonderland1108 · 4 days ago

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The Coping Mechanisms in This Fandom Deserve an Oscar, Actually.

So i just witnessed another post bashing Jimin solos (because that's the trending sport of the week apparently), and well.. funny thing is, the entire post aged like milk under 24 hours because plot twist: Jimin is receiving death threats right now. But nah, let's not talk about that. Let's circle back to the real crime: Jimin solos existing.

And you know what truly sent me? Some random reply under a quote repost screaming "Why are you defending Jimin solos?! JK won't fuck Jimin!!!"

... I'm sorry, what? What kind of Cirque du Soleil mental gymnastics did you perform to jump from "Jimin solos are annoying" to "JK won't be raw-dogging Jimin"? The person who quote reposted didn't even defend Jimin solos, bestie, calm down. But your brain really said: Jimin solos annoying => Someone says "Hmm you're not talking about the ACTUAL issue and this is only attracting antis to your page => OH NO, PAY GORN, SAY GEX INCOMING.

I mean the sheer velocity with which some of y'all spin into delusion is impressive. Like, Olympic level delusion.

But let's talk about this weird phenomenon where solos act like they own the member they solo stan. Like "I'm a JK solo, therefore i will bite, scratch, claw and bark at any living being he's close to." Y'all do realize the members have known each other for over a decade, right? They've lived together, cried together, succeeded together, and you think your Twitter fingers have more insight into their relationships than they do? Girl be serious.

You don't like OT7? Fine, go ahead, live your half-baked solo stan life. But the very LEAST you could do is not spew venom at the people your fave literally loves and trusts. You calling Jimin or Tae or JK names like "pigmin" or "nosekook" or "baldhyung" (yep, we've seen all of these) doesn't change the fact that they're close. That's not how friendship, or reality, works.

And the whole enlistment arc? Comedy gold.

When those people speculated about Tae and JK enlisting together, Tae solos and JK solos teamed up like it was "Infinity War: Solo Stan Edition". Fangs out, rabies foaming, barking like chihuahuas on Red Bull. All because someone said "Wouldn't it be cute if they enlisted together?"

They didn't. And yet.. the barking continued. The war raged on.

THEN Jimin and JK enlist together and suddenly the internet flips. JK solos immediately scream "GROOMING! MANIPULATION! JIMIN WHY!!"

But hold on, plot twist again, it comes out that JK initiated the buddy system. Now Jimin solos flip and go "Why can't he leave Jimin alone?!"

And Tae solos, bless their chaotic little hearts, still manage to insert themselves into the narrative like, "Good! Leave Tae out of this!!" and proceed to call both Jimin and JK names.

You're not even in this war! Why are you fighting?! This is not your anime arc! Pack it up.

The best part? After all that foaming at the mouth, keyboard smashing, and projecting, the boys are just.. happy. Thriving. Living their best lives. Unbothered. Meanwhile you're still in your solo stan echo chamber, clutching your fantasy life it pays rent.

Hate to break it to you, but you don't get to dictate who these men love, trust, spend time with, or go to the military with. You're not their CEO, psychic, or parent. You are a pixel in the void. No matter how many hasthags you spam or how many edits you make cutting a member out of the group photos, the reality is: you're just an incel with a K-pop obsession.

And the final gag? You say you love your fave so much, but can't even respect the people they love. What does that say about you?

I'll tell you what it says: You don't actually respect your fave. You just use them as an avatar for your own unresolved emotional damage and weird little power trip.

Anyway, save up your money for the BTS tour. For clarity.

#jikook #kookmin #minkook #solo stans are weird #bts rant #fan wars are so embarassing

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miyukisu · 7 months ago

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Mega Masterlist .ᐟ ❤︎ | Temporary collection of all my works arranged by fandom (will organize it better once there's more content) - count : 31

Fandoms incl: Blue Lock, Bungo Stray Dogs, Jujutsu Kaisen, Haikyuu, Kaiju No. 8, Ace of Diamond, Obey Me, Wind Breaker, Tougen Anki, +

N/SFW content is marked with !!!

╰ kinktober '24 masterlist | doing trends masterlist | more to come... last updated: jan 27, 2025

HEADCANONS

Awaken, My Love - Multiple !!! ╰ Ever since you two got together, he discovered some of the things that he's actually really really into

NSFW Alphabet Karasu Tabito Edition !!!

NSFW Alphabet Sae Itoshi Edition !!!

DRABBLES

Kaiser picks off food on your plate sometimes - Michael Kaiser

Biting Karasu's Biceps - Karasu Tabito

ONE SHOTS

Take a Bite, Chew Me Up - Shidou Ryusei !!! ╰ making bets about aphrodisiacs working or not (2.7k wc)

A Trace of Body Paint - Shidou Ryusei !!! ╰ He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? (3.1k wc)

Between Me and You - Michael Kaiser !!! ╰ While your other friends are enjoying themselves on your little camping trip, you and Kaiser were secretly fucking around (3k wc)

On the Bridge - Karasu Tabito ╰ You and Karasu Tabito talk one morning on a long and winding bridge...

If You're Down, Boy - Karasu Tabito !!! ╰ Karasu thinks you've got quite a mouth on you—time for him to show you what he can do with his too and make you shut up (3k wc)

Breakfast in Bed - Sae Itoshi !!!╰ Trouble in paradise? Well, Sae has an early morning treat for you to fix that (2.5k wc)

ONE SHOTS

Need Your Lips On Mine - Dazai Osamu !!! ╰ You'd think he'd be more enthusiastic to get his hands on you because of the whole 'secret relationship' thing, but maybe it's time to turn the tables (2.3k wc)

ONE SHOTS

Better Bite the Bullet - Iwaizumi Hajime !!! ╰ He's just trying to be a good best friend by teaching you a useful skill in life... blowjobs (2k wc)

HEADCANONS

Doing Trends: Gym Encounters ╰ "Babe, what would you do if a girl approached you at the gym?"

ONE SHOTS

All Over Me - Toji Fushiguro !!! ╰ Amidst the cruelty of the world, he's your therapy

There Ain't No Man Like You - Toji Fushiguro !!! ╰ People normally talk it out when they have a feud with someone, but you two? You decide to bury the hatchet by showering together (2.2k wc)

Getting Hot in Here - Sukuna Ryomen !!! ╰ things get hot 'n' heavy in the sauna (1.3k wc)

Talk Like That - Hiromi Higuruma !!! ╰ Who would have thought that your quiet and stoic boss had such a dirty side to him? (2.7 wc)

Took Me For a Ride - Geto Suguru !!! ╰ It's raining pretty hard outside—good thing there are more ways than one when it comes to warming yourselves up... (1.6k wc)

ONE SHOTS

No Matter What - Umemiya Hajime ╰ If Umemiya Hajime promises you something—best believe he's keeping it (1.3k wc)

ONE SHOTS

On Camera - Narumi Gen !!! ╰ You just love teasing your best friend—even better now that he's frustrated and can only see you through a screen (2.1 wc)

I Might Bite - Hoshina Soshiro !!! ╰ Resorting to dirty measures like biting your superior during sparring usually doesn't end without you having a taste of your own medicine... (2.6k wc)

DRABBLES

Making Lucifer some Hell's Coffee... - Lucifer

HEADCANONS

Boyfriend Headcanons (Oni Agency Ver.) !!!

HEADCANONS

SFW Alphabet Miyuki Kazuya Edition

General Miyuki Headcanons (1)

DRABBLES

He doesn't realize it yet, but he's kinda clingy... - Miyuki Kazuya

Older Boyfriend Thoughts - 1 !!!

Older Boyfriend Thoughts - 2 !!!

When you buy a plushie of him...

Not-so-innocent shower time...

Phone Sex Drabble... !!!

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

#Blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #obey me x reader #blue lock #bllk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #mksu.navi #wind breaker #haikyuu

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ohandcounting · 20 days ago

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Getting The Most Out Of Deltarune Chapters 1+2+3+4: The Mega Guide.

Want to read this as a google doc instead?

If you are the rare person who heard about Deltarune (the parallel story to Undertale, by Toby Fox!) through the recent Nintendo Switch 2 Direct, this is for you. This is also a good resource for anyone that's just been out of the loop, or wants to make sure they've "seen it all" before getting to the next chapter.

It details not just what to play before Deltarune's new release content, but also has tips to make sure you don't miss anything important while getting through it without wasting time and detailing what happened between releases so you can go in with the same full experience I've had waiting for it to release for the past 7 years. You've got a little under 1.5 months to pull this off, so I'd get started right away! All of it is below this read more, and it comes with only the necessary spoilers to save you some time. You can read it all in one go before starting any of the games, if you want. It's like, 10 years of stuff in here though. Take your time. If I missed anything, tell me and I'll edit it in. The best way to read this post is on my blog so you can see any of these edits. Feel free to share this around, make a video essay where you just read this off word for word, and/or repost it in any other fashion. I just want people enjoying the games! Credit is appreciated of course.

The Undertale Essentials

Go play Undertale! (you can skip any steps you've done before) It's on Steam, Xbox, Playstation, Switch. You can find android mobile ports of it pretty easily too, apparently. You can find a way to play it, I promise.

Just get to the end however you want, it largely doesn't matter what you do since a large appeal of the game is it reacting to your decisions. But if you get an encounter with no enemies, that means you've killed enough of them to activate an optional mode that skips a lot of the normal stuff in the game. So I would quit out to reload your save in that instance. You absolutely need to experience the game that started it all because a lot of Deltarune's enjoyment comes from the knowledge you'd have after playing this game first! Including the music! Don't mute the game just because you think the Ruins music is kinda mid!

Play Undertale...Again! This time, you need to be going for the True Pacifist Ending. Which just means you do all the important side quests, and don't kill anyone at all.* Don't worry about this being boring, there's actually plenty of unique dialog for a second playthrough.** If you don't super-kill The Flower™ from the trailer and all the marketing during a playthrough, he'll give you tips and hints on how to do it without having to look up a guide after the normal final boss. But really just try and maximize the dialog you see in this playthrough and you should get it. Just make sure you pour water on the blue lady after she passes out in the lava area, if you leave the screen on accident before pouring the water on her it locks you out of a side quest and you'll have to load a save from before the boss fight. If you save after this, that means you have to start all the way over...again again! *If you never killed anyone in your first playthrough and didn't lock yourself out of any important side quests, you can just hit continue to load into the room before the finale, and go back to do the side stuff you missed. **If you can't tell that the dialog is new, that means you can't complain about it being boring since you didn't remember the original dialog anyways! (This is a spiteful remark towards my biological older sister)

Play Undertale...Again Again Again! In step 1, I mentioned an optional mode that skipped a lot of the normal parts of the game. Well now you're going to do that on purpose, by not fighting an area's boss until you've exhausted the encounter limit. It's one of my favorite parts of the game to play. This can only be done by Fighting enemies until they fall to ashes before you, and stop showing up entirely. After the first area, save points start giving you an enemy count so you can't miss them on accident. Do this for the whole game, and you'll be able to reach The Final Conclusion to Undertale.

...Or...

You could watch someone else do it. (Don't click that out of curiosity if you're not at this step yet, it starts with super spoilers for the True Pacifist Ending!) This video playthrough features no commentary and uses YouTube's chapters feature, allowing you to skip through the monotonous enemy grinding if you just want to see what's new. Not everyone wants to do this playthrough, for obvious reasons.

This step might feel optional, but it's so important that I would highly recommend watching the video if you don't want to play it yourself. (You can check the end of this video yourself even if you played it, as this ending does change some things in other parts of the game!)

Congratulations! You've now finished The Undertale Essentials! (or you already did all of this like 10 years ago) Time to move on to...

The Extracurriculars!: Part 1

I don't believe any of this section is skippable if you want to really get the most out of Deltarune, despite the name. Feel free to use this time to think about Undertale even more, on a deeper level. These are events that happened between Undertale and the surprise release of Deltarune Chapter 1. Starting with...

The UNDERTALE Anniversary Q&A

Just make sure you read those instructions! It's not very long, so you could read it all in a single bathroom break.

The UNDERTALE 2nd Anniversary Alarm Clock announcement

This has since been cancelled, but it has some unique dialog for the characters found nowhere else. Again, very short.

The trailer for UNDERTALE's Switch release I guess?

This one is just funny, I really like this trailer. It didn't even release for the third anniversary on time outside of Japan. However, there is a fan favorite Exclusive Boss Fight and also Whatever This Is (<- 1/100 chance) that you'll miss if you didn't play the game on Switch! These are essential to know about going forward, as it's effectively two entirely new characters.

Here's the Exclusive Dog Shrine for the Playstation release, which is...Not Important...I'm watching this just now for the first time and it kind of sucks...badly. Okay just this one is skippable.

The Deltarune Essentials: Chapter 1

I want to take a moment to set the mood here for you. We just had the Switch release for Undertale, for the third anniversary. Nobody is expecting anything from Toby, who's now a multi-millionaire off of game sales alone (official merch comes from Fangamer, I wouldn't look at it yet though as you might run into spoilers) and if he does release anything else, we expect it to be just his "next project."

Then, the morning of October 30th, the day before Halloween, the official Undertale account tweets this and this. (<- start that one at the bottom I formatted it wrong) Then, after waiting a full 24 hours and finally downloading the new thing it greets you with THIS terrifying premise. We were terrified!

Now, after reading that, it is finally time for...

Playing Deltarune! But just chapter 1. It's free! After installing it, if it's the steam version, right click it and open up the "properties..." menu. Then go down to Betas and set it to "chapter1.2.lts.test - 11-25-24" to make sure you're playing the latest version, if you can't it's not a big deal but this does make some changes that will be in the final game. Meaning it's just a way to play the final-ish version of chapter 1+2 a bit early!

It's your first playthrough, just do whatever you like. It's only a single chapter rather than an entire game, so replaying it won't take nearly as long even if you mess something up. I will warn you though, you will need at least 90 minutes in a row after fighting the final boss of Card Castle to complete the next section that has no save points. This is, technically, for the best. You'll see. But please, for your own sake, do not start Chapter 2 yet. I promise, it's worth it.

Playing Deltarune But Just Chapter 1...Again! Or don't. While I do personally recommend playing through it again and doing the opposite of what you did the first time, that's not really important. At least not that we can tell yet. What you will want to do is load your first save file, and then making sure you have the White Ribbon armor item and watching the chapter 1 portion of this guide (it starts in partway through the video to avoid spoilers, make sure you stop the video before he starts talking about Chapter 2) to make sure you didn't miss anything important for Chapter 2! You will need to get to the ending cutscene again to make sure any changes to your file transfer to Chapter 2 properly.

This is just a general playthrough tip: When you're in town, you can just go all the way down to the bunker at the south-most area first thing. This will let you explore through the town in "layers", making it hard to miss anything that isn't hidden (the guide does mention the hidden part of the town!) Really, the most important part is just talking to sinks before anyone else in the room though.

Now that you've finished Chapter 1, it's time for...

The Extracurriculars!: Part 2

At this point, you're probably thinking to yourself "Why should I wait? Why would I not just go into the next part of the game now? Why do all these extra parts?" The simple answer is, Deltarune uses its Chapter releases to give you time to think about it. Probably, too much time, given the way some of us react to it. But this does play into its strengths as a series, giving us tidbits and mysteries to dive into. Trying to predict and figure out what's being foreshadowed and find the characters hidden and all the little interactions you could of missed. This really is the true strength of the series, and why people love talking about it. There's so much to find, there's almost always more you haven't seen.

This section covers the events that happened between chapters 1 and 2 of Deltarune. It's honestly quite a doozy, but less of it as vital as last time. Starting with:

Toby Fox talking about his thoughts on the game he's been working on since 2012.

Yeah, it turns out Deltarune started development before he even started working on Undertale. This is more or less unimportant if you don't care about Toby Fox or the creation of the game.

Honestly a lot of what's here and between the 5th Anniversary is mostly little tweets here and there. If you DO care about a little behind the scenes stuff, you'll just have to open the TobyFox's twitter account and scroll down until you see the big blue "Windows protected your PC" images because everyone's PC's thought he was releasing a virus because he called the game "SURVEY_PROGRAM" lol. (then you can start scrolling up to see the stuff!)

Also the Chapter 1 Demo released on Switch with a very funny trailer

Seriously though, it's all just other stuff he's worked on, jokes, behind the scenes/scrapped content, or previews for chapter 2 which you're about to play anyways.

This all changed on the 5th anniversary however...

THE UNDERTALE 5th Anniversary Orchestra Concert

This doesn't have much exclusive in it (excluding the music itself, of course) other than a commercial for some merchandise that was released on the 5th anniversary. There are also some piano covers from Toby Fox himself at the 3:03:00 mark, including a song you might not have heard yet. It's a very fun listen and watch, but it isn't vital if you just care about the story and characters instead of the music. Somehow. (If you played through the game muted you're doing it wrong [Unless you're deaf. Sorry.])

The UNDERTALE 5th Anniversary Alarm Clock Dialog

Unlike the other alarm clock dialog, this is actually very entwined with the characters, to the point where despite it being their Undertale versions, it actually gives insight for their Deltarune versions as well. A very important read, if you ask me, and very enjoyable if you just like the characters. Not nearly as short as last time, but it's sectioned so you can come back to your spot easily if you get interrupted.

The UNDERTALE 5th Anniversary Deltarune Status Update

This is more or less just talking about how far along chapter 2 was, and why it's been taking so long! Non-vital if none of that interests you, but there are some cool screenshots of Chapter 2.

Microsoft (probably) paid Toby a ton of money to release the game on Xbox for some reason lol

Again: really funny trailer. Here's most of the Exclusive Xbox Stuff (the rest can be found here, thanks @undertale-encyclopedia for having such a good pinned post) which doesn't sucks and gives more information on a few characters, even some we only meet in Deltarune!

Now for the 6th anniversary we have something very special.

The UNDERTALE 6th Anniversary SO WE PLAY deltarune CHAPTER 1 FOR SOME REASON live stream featuring 3 dads

This is really cool and important to the experience if you ask me! I genuinely recommend watching it, beginning to end, skipping nothing and keeping your eyes peeled throughout. It's not a very "normal" playthrough, and the waiting periods have exclusive songs & information.

You'll see why at the end of it, but now that you've definitely watched that entire video (it's okay if you did it at 2x speed) it's time for...

The Deltarune Essentials: Chapter 2

More spooky tweets...So Spooky... (again, bottom to top. Just like manga!)

Playing Deltarune Chapter 2! Your first playthrough, do whatever you want. There aren't any long stretches without save points this time either. I highly recommend getting at least 1 of everything you come across and keeping it safe, with your new storage ability this shouldn't be too hard. There's plenty of secrets to find too, so keep an eye out!

This will save you a lot of time though: There is a part in Chapter 2 where the party changes in some meaningful way I'm being intentionally vague about. As SOON as this happens, use the new Chapter 2 save menu to copy your save into an unused save slot (I recommend the bottom slot) and don't touch it or save over it for the rest of this playthrough.

There is a hidden B-side route, requiring either a guide to go through it or someone behind your shoulder telling you what to do. Saving at this moment will allow you to do this B-side route, without having to start the chapter over from the beginning. Having someone telling you what to do is the recommended way to do it.

Do the hidden B-side route, which is significantly shorter than a normal playthrough. If you saved in the correct spot, you should have a save file ready to go right before the branching point. Again, someone else telling you what to do is recommended. But if you need a guide for it, there's one on the wiki in the "Method" section near the top. Try not to read anything outside of it.

I recommend to stop reading the guide as soon as possible, as once the route is initiated a low-pitched sound will play whenever you successfully keep the route going. If a different sound plays, you have aborted this B-side route, meaning you need to reload your last save. If you get stuck, you can go back to the guide as necessary. Do note that you WILL need to find The Dumpster and buy from it.

After you Do-The-Thing with the Dumpster-Thing-You-Need-To-Remember-To-Equip, you'll be locked in, so you won't need to consult the guide anymore for the rest of the playthrough.

You can now watch the entire "Making PERFECT Deltarune Save files..." video beginning to end. I originally linked it at the 6:40 mark, so you can watch what was before that to see what spoilers I skipped. If you just want the Chapter 2 guide portion, it starts at 13:30. This step of "making perfect save files" is technically skippable, but there are some REALLY good items in Chapter 2 that are VERY missable! This will make sure you get them all, maximizing your Chapters 3 & 4 experience. But this one really isn't vital if you're enough of a gamer to not need strong items for "optional" hidden bosses. Oh, and make sure you talk to sinks before people whenever possible.

The Extracurriculars!: Finale

The Finale. All the extra bits and pieces that have been dropped for us here and there as we've been waiting for the past 3 and a half years for that Trailer. You may not want to read this section until after you're done with Chapter 2! It's easily the longest section to get through. But I'm sure you've been wondering...

Who the hell is that guy from the intro that's been making those spooky tweets before chapter releases? and Part 2 of it. These videos are, of course, not gospel (something like this really can't have one) But it's a very good summary of the information we have and what the common consensus was/is for some things.

Also there's been this unused code that has a person talking the entire time lol. This actually changed between the chapter 1 and chapter 2 release. This is probably Dess? Who you may or may not even know exists at all. Hope you've been paying attention!

The UNDERTALE 7th Anniversary Deltarune Status Update

This one has content you, someone who just played Chapter 2, will actually care about! It previews content and music for chapters 3 & 4, but still effectively tells us nothing! It's awesome! More importantly though it tells you about

THE SPAMTON SWEEPSTAKES

Don't watch the video at the top. This is for your own safety. You can't handle it. Not Yet. This features tons of exclusive music, previews of stuff you already saw and other stuff that wasn't featured in the Switch 2 direct trailer, and ads that you actually SHOULD click on. Can you find all 26 hidden pages? No? Are you sure you checked the product descriptions really thoroughly? Okay here's the wiki page that lists them all. Really do go through them all though, there's a lot of character building that just won't happen in the game here! Also, here's a live Spamton FAQ that got buried in Fangamer's twitter for some reason. Very funny and informative.

Successfully managing to get through all 26 hidden pages, and reading all of the text on the normal page, and the FAQ, should inoculate you to [Spamton's Essense] allowing you to now watch the video at the top of the sweepstakes page. I am not liable for any [injures] you suffer.

THE NEWSLETTERS

After this, everything became consolidated into Seasonal Newsletters (sign up here, I recommend truck freak) that are archived here on Toby Fox's website. Just click into the Newsletter archive, and scroll down to the bottom first and work your way up. Seriously, just go up through them and enjoy what we've been waiting for months apart.

These talk about everything Toby Fox has been working on and have cool stuff like interviews with the characters and also real people who work on the games! It'll cover a couple things that happened before this section too, so don't worry about me missing anything if you think I haven't mentioned it here. However, there are some Famitsu articles linked, and you may notice that when you try to read them...that you do not speak Japanese...

Here's translations by @chartcarr of pretty much every Toby Fox Japanese only interview! You can find the one's mentioned in the newsletters under the "Toby Fox's Secret Base" link if they're not on the front page. (Chartcarr is going to re-do most of these at some point. That might of already happened, check’em out again if you’ve already read them!)

Newsletter Issue #5 Has 3 Random Valentine's Day Cards. Here's All Of Them In One Page. We had to hunt these down as a community, together! It was brutal! A lot of them only went to a few people, and if those people weren't online or aware we didn't have theirs yet, we just didn't have it! It was great.

All that's left for you now is to remember to click the snowman at the bottom of Issue 8.

Big Questions FAQ:

This Series Has Irrevocably Rewired My Brain How Do I Cope With This

Watch this. It's a great video, even if you don't have this problem. It's basically what happened to me.

How Do I Become A Theory Lord With All Of This In My Brain Now?

Here's Device Theory, by @m0llystars, it should get your gears turning just watching it. Yes all 3 parts are out. It's especially worth your time if you like thinking about this game perhaps a bit too much really.

I Really Need Specifically More Undertale Not Deltarune Right NOW!!!...Please?

Here's an Undertale exhibition by Shayy on the show That's Never Happened Before. You can probably just google "Undertale Theory" or something though if this isn't enough.

I Need To Give This Man More Than The $1-$35 I Have Already Given Him For His Game(s), How?

Official Merch can be found here, there are also EU and JPN sites linked at the bottom of the page. Here is the Bandcamp page to Buy the digital versions of the soundtracks (also on most streaming platforms)

I Like Music Theories

Here you go!

All Of This Happened So Fast I Need Something To Help Analyze The Characters In This Largely Character Driven Series! Help?!

Here's Dorked's Undertale & Deltarune Analysis playlist who you can also find on this website running the blog @megaderping

I've Managed To Consume All Of This Before Deltarune Chapters 3 + 4 Released, Or Came Back After They Released, And I Crave More. Now What?

The biggest inspiration for Undertale and Deltarune are Earthbound, Mother 3, Live A Live, OFF, Yume Nikki, MOON: Remix RPG, Brandish, Cave Story, and the TouHou series. (and a few more not mentioned here!)

OFF The RPG is getting a re-release on Switch & Steam soon with new music (some is by Toby Fox!) and revamped combat, so look forward to that. Or you can play the original OFF for free.

Earthbound is on every Nintendo console ever. Here's an excellent Let's Play of Earthbound you can watch if you don't want to play it yourself. It will show you more than you could possibly find on your own. A great series just in general, if you need something to watch.

Here's a video on how to play Mother 3.

Live A Live can be purchased on Steam or Nintendo Switch, and is excellent. Each campaign is relatively bite sized so you'll never be stuck on anything for long. I recommend disabling tutorials and starting with Imperial China, it's very linear and simple so it's perfect to learn with. Looking up guides to make sure you don't miss anything is fine though!

Cave Story is just free.

Yume Nikke is just free.

MOON: Remix RPG is on steam and Nintendo Switch. If you're a theory head, I highly recommend playing this one through to the end.

TouHou has a very dedicated unofficial translation scene, as there is no official translation for most (any?) of the games, so you'll need to go through them to play the games unless you can read Japanese.

I don't really have anything for the Brandish series, I just absorbed information about it from a blog that's no longer active. If anyone knows a truly exceptional let's play of it or the best way to play it, I'll edit it in here!

But I can strongly recommend ZeroRanger & Void Stranger if you just want that feeling of digging deeper. Finding obscure interactions and details buried deep within the game, challenging but deeply rewarding in gameplay and lore discovery...Also play them both if you want to hear the music do that thing where the motif is established in the first game to give hints towards stuff in the second game in action. It's very cool.

Wait that's really how you're ending it? A random game rec where all you say is they're very cool without explaining anything about them? One of these wasn't even a question!

#Deltarune #Undertale #UtDr #Nintendo Switch 2 #<- it's a launch day title I think I can get away with that.#switch 2

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ask-the-rag-dolly · 1 year ago

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♪ ~ a little rag dolly , wishing your worries away ~ ♪

please read the faq ! ( updated as of 7/27/2024 )

a part ask-blog , part comic where ragatha is infected with a sentient virus that can talk to her - and somehow that's the least concerning part in all of this ?

there's no right or wrong choices here but these all definitely look like wrong ones

[ while this is mostly not intended to be a horror comic , please be warned that this will contain content that can be seen as disturbing such as depictions of mental illness and breakdowns , vomiting , self-harm , suicidal and intrusive thoughts , scopophobia , medical trauma - and possibly more i haven't listed ! if these things get too distressing it's okay to click away , your mental wellbeing matters more ^^

also disclaimer that a lot of the things here were written Before episode 2 so if there's some inconsistencies then you know ! ]

READ IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER , COOL !!

somehow doesn't work in mobile , please don't ask me i don't know how to fix it , blame tumblr idk lol

phase 1

phase 2

TAGS

[ asks ] / [ ask2 ] - main posts

[ ooc ] - misc. posts

[ INTERMISSION ] - surprise !

[ non-canon ] - non-canon asks

[ ESSAY WARNING ] - mod rambles

[ doodles ] - art from yours truly !

[ THE INFLUENCER ] - old t.i tag ! design was by @/raggedabstraction

tadc influence au - green ?????????

[ you just opened : pandora's box ! ] - an achievement i give to a select amount of asks that completely ran the plot into a tree and exploded it <3

[ animations ] - ... animations !

[ office lore ] - backstory that i don't think is pretty important to this story but people are somehow invested in it so here you go

toybox - just me going crazy over my brotp ( zooble & ragatha )

[ more will be added ! ... if i figure it out ... ]

GUIDELINES AND BOUNDARIES

nooo inappropriate asks, please ! i will not hesitate to block you if you send one

my art is free to use ! use it for your icon , an edit , or even repost it ! my only condition really is to credit me (:

the only ship i'll lean towards is jesterdoll (pomni x ragatha) ! even then , it's not the main focus ( i prefer exploring more platonic dynamics honestly ! )

please be patient and do not take it personally if your ask doesn't get in , i am just one artist running this blog , not planning to get another mod , and i get a shitton of asks whenever i open the inbox . there is no 100% guarantee that your ask will get in

please do not dm me . i am not open for small talk . just take any questions or inquiries to the ask box if it's open . sorry but i will be ignoring any messages from this point on . it's nothing personal i am just severely mentally ill

magic anons are fine ! though note i will be very picky towards them and most likely won't accept any that exceeds 10 asks .

you can call me mod bee . for the sake of this blog , i go by she/her ^^ ( please don't bring up my main if you recognize my art style shfgsf )

[ guidelines are subject to change ~ ]

#[ ooc ]

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withleeknow · 1 year ago

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in the dark.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, crying, mention of blood, mention of animal abuse, not very edited lol word count: 0.6k note: oh i've had the idea for a scene like this for a whiiiile now and i was hella motivated to finally write it after watching skzflix 😂 (twas supposed to be used for a jk fic but oh well, sorry jungoo)

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

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

"It was stupid of you."

"Okay."

"And reckless."

"Okay."

"And dangerous."

"Okay."

"And stupid. Did I already mention that? Because it was fucking stupid."

"Oka-"

"Fuck!" you snap. "Why do you keep saying that? Is it the only word in your vocabulary?"

Minho shrugs defeatedly, like none of this matters to him, but his guilty eyes tell you otherwise. He purses his lips for a second, before he tells you, "What else am I supposed to say?"

"Say you're sorry? Say you'll stop doing it? Say you won't put me through this again?"

He stays quiet, and to be honest, you expected him to. He's too stubborn for his own good and he's too good for his own sake. He's got the kindest heart you know, and you will always love him for it, but...

It's hard to make peace with it when he shows up at your doorstep every few weeks with bruises all over, like an abandoned dog asking you to take him in and put him back together.

It's hard to keep track of all the reasons he tells you to justify his borderline foolhardy actions. The last time it happened, it was because he ran into some psycho abusing the stray cats near his neighborhood. Tonight, it was because he saw someone get mugged on the street.

It's even harder to be okay with the fact that he's infinitely selfless and kind because you love your friend.

You love your friend.

You heave a sigh, going back to the task at hand because you know there's no convincing Minho otherwise. Sometimes, you wish he'd think of himself, that he'd put himself over others. Sometimes, you wish he'd think about you.

You asked him about it once, why he kept showing up to yours instead of going to a hospital. Instead of going home.

He only replied, simple and earnest, "I just want to be here with you."

You soak a cotton swab in rubbing alcohol before you press it gently against the cut on his cheek, wincing when he does. Then you move to the cut on the bridge of his nose, the one on his jawline, the one on the corner of his mouth...

You don't meet his eyes, but you feel his steady gaze on you the entire time you tend to his wounds. You're aware of how your hands are shaking, the way every breath you exhale is trembling, and that there are tears ready to overflow any second now.

The first one spills as you work on cleaning the blood off the corner of his mouth.

Then, suddenly, the cotton swab is no longer in your hand. Minho carelessly flings it elsewhere, and before you can scold him for interrupting you, his palms are on your face, delicate fingers cradling your jaw.

You blink. Just a split second, and his lips are on yours.

He's soft, and warm, and sweet, despite the bitterness that's been on your tongue the entire night. You love him. You do.

And he kisses you like he loves you too, tenderly and wholeheartedly.

You want to keep him with you forever, to never let him go, to not have to see him get hurt ever again. You don't think it's possible for you to endure it anymore, now that you know how it feels to have him like this.

When he pulls away, you're dazed. Rightfully so.

Minho doesn't stray from you for too long. He lets you catch your breath before he's leaning in once more.

Another kiss. Three seconds.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles against your lips, his tone so painfully sincere.

Another kiss. Four seconds.

"I'll stop doing it."

Then another one. Five seconds.

"I won't put you through this again."

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know scenarios #lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know x you #lee minho x reader #lee minho x you #stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho

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n0tamused · 11 months ago

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A/n: Not a one-shot but crack hcs! Hope you enjoy. I don't often write crack stuff but it is really fun when I get to it :)

Content: Dr. Ratio x Reader, can be read as platonic or romantic, no pronouns used, just crack overall, short and sweet

-While Ratio can have lots of patience for people of all walks of life, he has found a challenge within you and your form of intellect.. It would be arguably the first time Ratio has found himself in some form of a stumped state due to some of your questionable actions or phrases. He just has to sit back and wait for a moment until his brain sets itself back in place and he can think straight again

-He often scolds you, but no matter what he says it's like your brain translates it to something completely different, and even if his words are harsh you take it as if he complimented you and praised you to no end?

-Man is confused. To say the least

-Once he caught you losing nearly all your money against Aventurine, stating “third time's the charm”. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW POKER?! Even Aventurine was laughing along in all the confusion one can show without being odd, and he had to say he wouldn’t have taken the money, this was just a ‘friendly-fire’ sort of thing, he says. Well that’s lucky for you, considering you had rent and food to pay for!

-He drags you away while you jest about it and also apologize too, because he looks like he’ll explode

-Ratio may or may have not hit the top of your head with his codex..once or twice, but it’s all in good spirits - trust

-He really does mean well, especially if he seriously sees you struggling with something. He won’t hand you the answers on a silver platter unless it's a last resort sort of thing, but he would prefer to guide you to the answer, basically making you think outside the box and such until you arrive at the answer yourself. He is always open to advice and keeps an open mind, and with that he could entertain an idea you may have, yes.. even the more... silly ones. But also be ready to be shut down immediately for the absurd ideas you may bring up. He doesn't waste time nor does he like or plan to.

-Dr. Ratio is the voice of reason in your life, and he's there to reel you back to the ground when you may be getting ideas for something that would not benefit you, or god forbid - if you plan to do something risky that could harm you or your reputation.

-He often goes out of his way to make sure you’re doing things on schedule, so waking you up, sending you a message to eat (no crisps, go eat something good, something healthy), he’d send you articles about things he remembers interest you, papers on your favored topics

-A more tender thing he does is do your hair. It’s a simple thing yet it means a lot to him and you. Just a few minutes of quiet as his fingers thread or comb through your hair, brushing through it with meticulous moves, making sure he doesn’t pull or yank.

#dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #veritas ratio #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio x reader #gn reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #crack hcs #dr ratio headcanons #aventurine x reader #can you tell idk how to write crack stuff

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herecirmsims · 1 year ago

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Solo Horse And Rider

Nine poses for a solo rider and horse, plus all-in-ones. There are some issues with clipping reins (when using posed versions) and floating feet - please see details beneath cut!

You will need: - Pose Player - Teleport Any Sim - Horse Ranch EP

Useful, but not required for the poses to work: - Iberian saddle and Medieval Engraved Bridle With Reins - Reins For Posing Bridle

Download here (always free) SFS | Patreon

TOU: you may adjust for personal use to avoid clipping etc., but please do not reupload/paywall/claim as your own.

Other CC used: Leg bells and braided mane/tail/forelock by SchrodCat | Default replacement horse skin by @minervamagicka | Celebrimbor armour by @plazasims | a slightly edited version of Apricot Blossom Preset by Simsboo

I'd love to see them used! You can tag me on Twitter, Instagram, or Tumblr. I repost. ❤️ Thank you @ts4-poses and @alwaysfreecc!

You can easily browse more of my posepacks using my Ko-Fi gallery. Tips are appreciated but never required!

Details of known issues under cut to save your dash:

These poses have been annoying me for months lmao. I made them last year but ran into a couple of issues: at the time, all-in-one horse and rider poses posed out of alignment when placed off-lot with TOOL, and I also couldn't stop the reins from clipping in game (they are posed, and don't clip in Blender). I specifically wanted poses with reins because I have a hard time drawing them in, as I only have a mouse.

My off-lot bug seems to have been solved, and although I still haven't figured out why the reins are slightly off in game, I figured it probably doesn't matter: in the time Horse Ranch has been out, I've noticed most people draw reins in themselves.

I adjusted them slightly to work with the gorgeous new medieval saddle and stirrups by @morningstarequestrian , since that's what I'd be using my poses with, but although the rider's feet are resting on the stirrups in Blender, in game they hover. I don't know why and by this point I don't care enough to find out LMAO.

I've kept the original placement of the rider's hands and the reins on the horse rig, so you can use it with the LeiaMaria bridle for posed (but occasionally clipping) reins, or with any other bridle and draw the reins in yourself. In medieval art, most horses are shown to have two reins (one decorated, one 'normal') so I think using it with Morningstar's Medieval Bridle like this works fine (I would have drawn reins in myself if I wasn't lazy). The poses work with EA saddles, but I don't have other CC saddles-with-stirrups so can't say if the placement is off for others.

#ts4-poses #ts4 posepack #sims 4 posepack #sims 4 horse ranch #sims 4 horse poses #ts4 horse poses #sims 4 medieval #sims 4 fantasy #herecirmposes

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meimi-haneoka · 2 months ago

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Finally it's over: English edition of Clear Card volume 16

Hello hello, I've been waiting for this freaking volume with bated breath (😂) for the past 48 hours, because the surprise of K-USA's accurate revision job on volume 15 back in October 2024 made me raise my bar of expectations quite a lot.

....Alas, you should never do that, especially if something has disappointed you time and time again: getting it right just once doesn't mean it's going to happen again, and most importantly, it doesn't magically erase the poor job they did till now.

So it's March 11th 2025, the English edition of Cardcaptor Sakura volume 16 is out almost one year after the Japanese release: how did they fare?

(all images courtesy of Sarah/Rainbowbee - reposted with permission)

This time around I only saw about 10 pictures of the main story, because apparently that's about how much they fixed. I had seen the preview of the first 22 pages of the volume on Bookwalker (corresponding to a good chunk of chapter 76) and I was so disappointed to see that the translation mistakes they did in those pages were left untouched. But my friend sent me these pics this morning and there is some effort on it. Scarce, not as thorough as with volume 15, but they did fix something. All stuff I had pointed out in my tumblr posts. Starting from this change above, which was quite a serious translation mistake since it made people believe that Lilie had left "the last Card" to Sakura, when it was simply waiting to be called as Momo had told her previously. Lilie had nothing to do with it. It's still true that Sakura shouldn't use "she" because she really doesn't remember who talked to her in a dream, but oh well.

This volume is worth checking out for the redrawn panels and added lines too! Like this panel of Syaoran above. It is usual for CLAMP to correct the panels when the chapters get compiled in tankobon format, so I've had a lot of fun spotting all the differences, all these years.

And then we get to what I consider one of the most emotional scenes of the entire volume, if not of the entire story ✨ I am so, so glad they took care of revising the lines in this scene, because they hadn't gotten them right the first time around. In particular, I'm very glad they correctly made Akiho spell out clearly "Why did you choose to disappear like this?". She wasn't whining about why he left her, or her priority wasn't even scolding him for rewriting an entire world unprompted. The thing that burned her the most was that he chose to disappear. Akiho is questioning him about his self-hate, this act of self-violence that had repercussions on her too, where he chose to sacrifice himself and throw himself away in order to give her what he thought was a happy life. On closer inspection, you could even say CLAMP are trying to make a statement for a way, way heavier thematic here. But I'll leave that to your own interpretation because those are very delicate matters. The way they had creatively translated it before (the words in Japanese didn't really say that) didn't convey this nuance enough, so I'm glad they fixed it.

This. This scene was so important to fix. First of all, because it clarifies that here Sakura is uttering her invincible spell. And then because Sakura now is correctly telling Akiho "As long as you're together" (meaning Akiho and Kaito).

Finally Syaoran doesn't sound like an asshole while he's telling Sakura that he will protect what she needs to keep safe. He doesn't sound like he's saying "I have no f*cking idea what you're doing but whatever, I'll help you out".

Other part that was changed in the Japanese volume: the addition of one line, in relation to the effect the artifact book is having on Kaito. "Even now, it's causing you to suffer".

And this one was added too, with the precious addition of Nakuru clarifying that Yukito's pact with the Tsukimine Shrine has been undone. More precisely, her line in Japanese is "This time around (we) undid it, but please don't go around doing things that require a [payment] anymore".

(the rest under the cut for spoilers about the Special Chapter)

Last but not least, the special chapter ☺️✨ The one that's considered "the epilogue". This had never been released in English as simulpub when it came out on Nakayoshi, so maybe some people will see it for the first time. My biggest concern was this scene. They translated it as-a-matter-of-fact, they didn't explain anything, no translation notes whatsoever (like the ones the Italian or Spanish edition have put)... So yeah, technically they didn't mess it up, it's correct, but they didn't even render a service to their readers, since they'll be left wandering in confusion to find the real meaning of this phrase, in case they don't know it. It's honestly ridiculous that they use translation notes or add text to explain japanese food (like they did in this same Special Chapter, for okonomiyaki - the "Savory pancake delight!" bit was added by them), but then leave the readers oblivious to cultural context like this. So, if you're one of those who don't know, Kaito here is confessing to Akiho that he loves her. The scene is very significative because it goes full circle with the love confession Akiho made to him in the same fashion in chapter 48. Kaito understood not only his feelings, but Akiho's too, and he reciprocates her in the same manner. The intention is made even more evident than in Akiho's case, since Kaito blurts this phrase out in broad daylight 😆

The rest of the special chapter is fine, I have spotted an error with a line Akiho says, mistakenly attributed to Kaito, but other than that it was quite good. I was actually very satisfied with how they emphasized Akiho's strong will towards "standing on her own" and emancipating herself from Eriol's help, whom she is still grateful to. But what made me scream in excitement is Sakura's line while talking to Momo: "My loved one's problems are my problems". Perfect. Straight to the point. Clarifying once and for all that she was never "dragged in", but getting involved with them came naturally as a result of caring for a loved one.

So! While there was so much room for improving this translation, fixing all the mistakes they made during the simulpub and not only a part of them, this volume is still....decent, at least? With some peaks, some translation choices I liked a lot. Some stuff will remain incorrectly translated until a new edition will come out, but we have to come to terms with that. And I find a bit absurd that we had to wait almost one year to get this volume translated in English, but I do not know all the licensing shenanigans going on. I had hoped it was because they were doing an astounding work on it, maybe checking with the Japanese publisher, but 🤷‍♀️oh well. If you still are curious to see all the translation mistakes that happened in simulpub between chapters 76-80, you can check the single posts I made here .

Still, as it's the last volume of this series, and as it carries the precious Special Chapter that wonderfully makes the story come full circle, I encourage everyone to buy it! ✨

It's done. It's over! 🥲

#card captor sakura #cardcaptor sakura #clear card arc #ccsakura #sakura card captor #volume 16 #these are a few examples #there's more but not as much as volume 15

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dearestxiao · 1 year ago

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the color blue: neon [part 2] | yandere xiao x reader, yandere venti x reader

synopsis: the days until you finally meet your penpal has been ticking by so quickly, but with a new tutor, a clingy roommate, and a professor who seems to only want the worst for you, it's hard to keep track of time. WARNINGS: DARK CONTENT, yandere characters, creepy xiao is creepy (lots of potentially uncomfortable thoughts from his perspective), heavily implied stalking, possessiveness, manipulation, dub-con touching, student-teacher dynamic, age gap (reader is 21+ and zhongli is 27+, feel free to adjust as need be). let me know if I need to add anything! reader is gender neutral.

wc: 10.7k

author notes: I wanted to first say thank you for the wait, and I hope that everybody is able to enjoy the changes and edits I’ve made to the story. I also wanted to say thank you to the mutuals who had helped me create the original version of the story. it has been a long time since then, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re still active (OTZ), so I’m not sure if they would still like to be tagged but I am forever grateful to them. this is the last exposition heavy chapter, as well as my last read edit/re-upload of a chapter, so the next few chapters will be much meatier with new content!!! again, thank you so much for the wait. love you all! as always, reblogs are very appreciated if enjoyed and if possible!

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ [part 1]

dark content. minors do not interact. do not repost/link.

from xiao's room, there's a perfect view of the town a bit away from campus that greets him everytime he steps inside. it's a gorgeous sight, which is something he could admit, even though he didn’t choose the place himself, one anyone would be grateful for. the town is bright and bustling even still, and it’s only now starting to dim down. it’s getting late into the night, with flashy lights and beautiful architecture and homey buildings, and so many people, people, people.

there are still families on an outing, and cute couples going on dates. shop owners sweeping around their store. he can see as the everyday salaryman walks back home, accompanying the students on their own way home from classes; he can see so many lives being lived from his isolated little tower.

and yet, on nights like these, no matter how enchanting the view, xiao usually prefers to keep his blinds tightly shutー out of sight, out of mind. jealousy is a vile thing, isn't it? it's nasty, tainting your view of the world, of the things you love. after the first few weeks after xiao had moved in, the view quickly lost the charm it once had. because at the end of the day, to him, the view only serves as a cruel reminder of just how alone xiao is and always has been.

it dangles around a painful reminder of the things xiao can never have. it's so close, yet so far out of reach.

but despite his usual bitterness, xiao doesn’t bother closing the blinds tonight, because tonight, he has hope, hope that he could one day be like the many walks of life he sees everyday from his apartment window. hope that he’ll have something worth wondering about.

xiao sits himself on his bed, the second biggest source of comfort in his life right now. for some reason, he feels awfully nervous. he knows why, but he can’t help but wish that awful feeling away. for a split second, he can’t help but wish he was as confident and fearless as... no. he won’t think like that, not right now, at least. he shakes away the thought. butterflies jitter all up and around his stomach as his shaky hands picks up his phone and dials numbers, your numbers. the digits are already memorized by heart.

he tries to calm his nerves as he presses the phone up to his ear after hitting the call button, nails digging into the pajamas he changed into when he got home. he thickly swallows, waiting as patiently as he can, like usual.

ring. rinnng. rinnnnnggg.

it doesn't take too long for you to pick up.

"hello?" he finally hears.

it's only one word (and a pretty basic one at that), but xiao can already hear the soft underlying shyness of your voice. his mouth naturally opens a little agape. you've always been nervous around those you weren't close to. your voice sends him into a state of bliss, so much so his brain is too foggy to reply until you coo out another hello, questioning if anyone is there on the other line due to the silence.

he almost has to force himself to speak "It's… xiao," he blinks, not even saying hello back, "from professor zhongli's class," xiao almost slips up by saying the name you know him much better by. “you… we spoke on the train. I don’t know if you remember,” he manages to stutter out.

you had seemed pretty out of it when you two talked earlier that very same day. you must’ve been so exhausted to have fallen asleep like that, right next to him. he’s still replaying the site of it over and over, the way you were struggling so hard to stay awake, head bobbing back and forth. it was probably embarrassing for you, but it was a pleasant sight for him. the soft puff of your cheeks and the furrow of your brows, the shallowness of your breath and how relaxed you looked. it made him feel like a creep, staring at you in that state, such an intimate state, a vulnerable state.

it’s why he had held back as long as he could before finally tapping you awake, wanting to bask in the precious sight for longer.

he snaps back to finally finish his explanation, “…you gave me your number earlier today," he says it less as a reminder to you, but instead as a reminder to himself. he bites his lip, waiting for you to respond, wishing he could see what you looked like right now.

in the meantime, he remembers how your eyes had begrudgingly opened back up at the feeling of him touching you. he remembers the warmth of your body that felt like it could melt his finger tips from the heat. he wishes he could see and feel both much more often, but xiao is patient. lord, is he patient.

he remembers how embarrassed you looked as you sat up in your seat, trying to reorient yourself. “sorry, what did you say?” you finally had spoken after getting settled. you must’ve been too frazzled to hear him the first time. he cleared his throat before he repeated himself, this time a little louder, a little less shy than the first time around.

“I asked which stop you get off at.” you looked at him with eyes big with confusion. he hoped, desperately (he’s always so desperate), that he hadn’t made you feel anything negative.

he made sure to explain the question in hopes that it made you feel more comfortable and not as confused. “…I can wake you up before you get there, if you’d like.”

despite his wants, he needed to make sure you were safe, and were able to actually get home. if he didn’t ‘protect’ you, who would? definitely not that roommate of yours.

to his (would be short-lived) disappointment you had shaken your head. “no, it’s fine. I really shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place.” you had paused for a short second before saying, “thank you, though, xiao.” he doesn’t like to remember how he almost shivered at the sound of his name coming from your lips, nor how he had to turn his head as he nodded because he could feel heat creep up it.

"oh, yes, xiao! sorry, I wasn't expecting you to call so soon. what can I do for you?"

“you asked on the train if I could tutor you. I wanted to set something up.”

it’s true, even if xiao can’t believe it himself. he knew this day would come, but didn’t expect it to be this soon. after several minutes of silence between you two, (or at least as silent as it could be on a train), you had turned to him, as if remembering something, getting his attention before you asked him something.

“sorry if this is coming out of nowhere. I was wondering if…” you took a breath, and xiao had almost sworn you were bordering scared as you finished your question. “I was wondering if you could possibly tutor me for zhonglis class? I don’t know if you’d be able to, but I spoke to him earlier today, and he recommended asking you for help.”

and of course he had said yes, to your surprise. he remembers thinking, silently, that maybe the universe was rewarding him for being so patient, and he had to keep his cool the best he could.

now here he is, actually setting something up. “would tomorrow with you?”

"yes!," you let out a nervous little laugh at your uncontrollable excitement. xiao can just picture the smile you have on your face, all shy and awkward and cute. "that would work great, I think. I really wasn't expecting you to set something up so quickly. I'm grateful though."

xiao would make the tutoring session today during the dead of night if he could. of course he would set something up so quickly.

you don't need to know that, though.

xiao hums at your words. "we… we can have our first session at my place, if you're comfortable with that." he realizes he might be coming off too strong, so he adds, "but we can have it somewhere else too." he hopes you agree to the first suggestion though.

"t-that'd be great, yeah. whatever works for you, works for me."

"I'll text you the address and the time, then… and we can discuss more sessions or a schedule and stuff further.”

"that sounds good. thank you so much again." you repeat, and he can hear the relief in your voice. it should be him thanking you, really.

"of course. goodnight."

“goodnight!” you repeat before you both hang up. a wave of bliss strikes his body.

but he isn’t going to sleep, not yet, atleast. Instead, he’s going to stay up all night, right in front of his window, thinking of all the possible lives he’s about to live.

he’ll make sure to thank zhongli for that in the morning.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

[name]: I don't think you understand how nervous I am right now

[name]: my hands are shaking and everything

alatus: why? is something wrong?

[name]: you know how I told you how I wasn't doing the greatest in one of my courses?

alatus: of course. did something happen?

[name]: the most intimidating guy I've ever met in my life is my tutor now

[name]: and I have no idea how this first session is gonna go

alatus: I think you’ll be fine. you shouldn’t worry yourself

alatus: you should let me know how everything goes.

ーーー☆

xiao's home is, to put it simply, unique.

you were left awestruck as soon as you stepped into the small but gorgeous studio apartment, shocked by both the feeling of jealousy creeping up your spine and the thought of how someone could possibly afford such an apartment, especially as a college student. no matter how xiao manages to afford his place, though, his home daunts over you.

there's a large window that lines the wall his bed and desk are propped up against and you can't help but imagine just how xiao would look as he looked out of it and at the bustling city. the glass is frosted and wet from the pitter pattering rain that seems to persist in the cool weather of october. it's a little messy, books scattered about here and there and takeout bags littering the table, and the amount of lighting in this room seems to be as minimal (and as cold) as can be, but it's nothing too bad at all. nothing that you could complain about, at least.

there's so many things inside his house, so many things your eyes are drawn to, like his big bookcase and comfy bed and his expensive computer setup, and yet it feels so... lonely. devoid of life, even. maybe it's the look of the gloomy black walls and the fact that the only lighting xiao has is a tall floor lamp and the light that comes through his window, but you've never seen such a full home feel so empty. no plants except for one little succulent that's looking worse for wear, no photos of friends or family, no bright colors, no pets to breathe life into the place, no companion to help make this house a home. nothing.

you're suddenly grateful you have such a lively roommate.

it's been a few minutes since xiao had let you in, greeting you in his comfy hoodie and baggy pants, hair put up into a messy bun, before attending to something on his computer (an important email you think, or at least something along those likes, something urgent), telling you to sit wherever you'd like and that he'll be with you shortly. you had nodded while leaving your shoes at the door, asking him if his bed would be a seat he's okay with you being on, garnering a hum in response from him.

"...I'll sit here then, since it'll be close to you and stuff," you murmur, admittedly a bit more nervous and unconfident sounding than you'd like. you plop yourself onto xiao's bed, placing your bag at your feet in front of the bed for easy access. xiao takes what's meant to be a quick glance at you, but he's unable to look away.

he knows it's creepy to say, especially when you're just sitting down so innocently, but the sight is better than what he's fantasized about. he's thought of you so many times in his bed, cuddling with him and running your hands through his hair and letting him press kisses into your face and collar bones. he's thought about waking you up with breakfast and how you'd smile and thank him even if he can't cook very well, but he's willing to learn a couple recipes for you. he's thought about laying there with you after a long day, letting you ramble as he listened like he does as alatus. he's thought about how he'd great you once he comes home like you probably do with venti, watching your form as he wait on his bed for him.

and, most of all, he's thought about the way you'd cry and sob and call him a monster once the day that you find out that his bed is now yours and that this apartment is now your home, trapped forever with him, finally comes.

one day you'll be here permanently, he's sure of it. baby steps first, though.

xiao doesn't realize that in the midst of his thinking, he's been absolutely staring you down, and considering that xiao has a naturally viscous (bitchy) looking resting face, you can't help but squirm under his gaze. "xiao? I can... move, if you'd like."

"no, I just..." he clears his throat before looking back at the work in front of him. "sorry, I zoned out for a second. you can stay there if it feels comfortable. whatever you want." the words come out as a sort of awkward, almost inaudible mumble.

is this supposed to be as awkward and tense feeling as it is?

you nod at his words, albeit a little hesitant, further settling into the soft plush of his bed. your brain is still convinced that he might want you to move, but you decide to just stay where you are. you reach down from your seat, pulling out everything you would need from your bag, waiting patiently for any instructions. the soft clicking of xiao's keyboard and the sound of rain hitting against the window fill the otherwise silent room, and honestly, given the atmosphere and the way xiao's room is so dark and cozy and how warm and inviting his bed is, you're tempted to fall asleep.

xiao's presence, though nerve-wracking, makes you feel at home. it feels familiar. you wouldn't mind falling asleep near him again.

but today's (sadly) not the day for resting. xiao finishes whatever he's working on, closing out of the tab and turning his chair to face your spot on the bed. he brushes a piece of his hair back and out of the way, uncovering the eyebrow piercing the bothersome piece had previously hid. his eyes look dead, tired dark circles laying underneath, and yet he still forces himself to speak, like a zombie who simply refuses to just give up and die.

"did you have anything specific in mind that you want to go over?"

you take a second to think, humming in response. zhongli never truly specified what you needed to brush up upon, only that the last few assignments weren't up to his standards, whatever that means. "I don't know. maybe everything from the last few weeks? I'm not so sure."

he too lets out a soft little hum as he thinks for a moment. he's never tutored before, and he's pretty sure he doesn't even have the qualifications to actually be of any sort of help. he makes it up as he goes.

“on the back of your textbook, there's a study guide that covers all the chapters inside." he gently motions for you to give him the book sitting on your lap, flipping to the page before handing it back to you. "I want you to do the questions of the study guide that cover the chapters we've already read in class. then I'll... assess you from there, and we can come up with a plan.”

it seems like a lot of work, and that's because it is. the longer you spend here (the more he can milk this session for everything it's worth), the better.

you nod, moving to get to work immediately, putting your full effort into the task at hand. you both work silently, xiao clicking at his keys alongside the noise of you flipping through the pages of your textbook and jotting answers down. the noises compliment one another well, creating a lingering sense of peace and calm in the air. you find yourself getting stuck on one or two of the questions, but… surprisingly breezing through the rest, and after a while of working, you gently speak his name, alerting him that you've finished. he’s quick to take your work, starting his inspection of it.

your hands can’t help but get a little clammy as you watch as he reads through your answers, analyzing each and every single written word. in the meantime, you’re doing a little analysis of your own, trying to distract your mind from feeling any more nervous than you realistically should.

your eyes flick from his messy hair, to the beauty mark almost right in the middle of his forehead, then to the soft dusting of red eyeshadow under his eyes. you look at how he runs a finger against the words on the page, too, almost subconsciously, and though you can’t really tell from this angle what he’s doing, you think he’s more so tracing the letters you’ve written than using it as a means to follow along. he almost looks entranced. you don’t know what to expect from xiao, can’t even guess what he’s thinking, and the furrowed eyebrows on his face definitely don’t make you feel any better.

you sit there, idley, awkwardly, fidgeting for what seemed like more than just a few minutes, before xiao finally speaks up.

you can barely hear him as he speaks, his words hushed and muffled. "you... need a lot of brushing up on the content, and your answers… lack good explanations and reasoning." he hands you back your work, sending you an almost sympathetic look. "I can see why zhongli believes you need help,” he adds.

it's a lie, of course, but you don't need to know that, not when zhongli had so delicately laid down the groundwork for all of this to happen in the first place. most of your answers were just fine as is, at least from what he lightly skimmed through.

still, he can't help but feel guilty when that look of embarrassment washes over your face.

for some reason you feel yourself get overwhelmed with emotion. you thought that maybe, just maybe, zhongli was simply just messing with you, as was notorious with the man and his teaching methods. but there's a stark sense of embarrassment that comes from xiao reaffirming what zhongli had said, an embarrassment so strong it sends your entire body ablaze with heat.

you can't help but awkwardly shift in your seat as you nod along to his words despite the way your head almost feels too heavy to lift, avoiding eye contact lest he sees you so embarrassed over something so... silly, a miniscule problem at best, something fixable with a bit of elbow grease and time, and yet it means way more than it should to you.

you've worked so hard in this class already. why aren't you improving?

he doesn’t let you really catch your breath before he speaks again. "I think we'll need a couple more sessions than we discussed earlier," he mumbles, again, as though too ashamed to speak up, flipping through his own textbook, face in his hand as he thinks. "I want to make sure we can get as much content covered as possible before the end of the semester and catch you back up, since you seem to be..." xiao takes a quick glance at you, and for a moment, just a split second, he sees you, sees inside of you, sees every little thing you've been keeping bottled up, your fear. he looks away, breath hitching out of complete and utter guilt. he forces himself to continue though.

"...behind," he finishes, the single word said notably softer than the rest of the sentence.

xiao forces himself to swallow down his guilt. truly, he feels terrible about lying about this, because you clearly seem to be doing just fine on you own and lord knows how much stress this entire ordeal is causing you, but what's the use of being presented and blessed by the gods themselves with such an amazing opportunity if his sinning hands can't take it out of greed? xiao hates it, but he's always been more of a taker than a giver, taking all he can from people and leaving nothing left of them.

the simple pure utter bliss at the thought of spending hours and hours with you, in his room, alone, intimately and in person instead of just being with you through a phone screen, extinguishes any guilt he could possibly feel.

you, on the other hand, do allow yourself to feel guilt, though it's a feeling that has much more innocent roots than what xiao feels. it's a feeling that pokes and stabs at you as you fumble for words to say. you're a much better person than xiao is in that regard. you can't help but to feel ashamed, ashamed that you were doing so terrible at a course that goes directly into your major that you would have to force xiaoー a man renowned for being a lonerー who surely would rather spend his free time by himself and not tutoring someone so out of your realm and element as you are.

maybe it's not too late after all to consider switching majors, you think.

"you seriously don't have to do that, I don't want to take more time from you than I'm already taking. honestly, I think I'm a bit of a lost cause at this point if I can't even do the simpler questions."

the truth is, not even xiao knows how scared you are. fear and dread soars through your body at the thought of ending up in the same spot you were in last year.

xiao lets out a sigh through his nose at your words, a noise that does nothing other than make you feel worse, especially when you can't read his emotions and tell what's going on in that labyrinth of a brain he has. maybe he's realized that you're not worth spending his time. maybe you really are a loss cause. maybe you really should change your major. maybe you should call it quits and drop out. maybe you should move countries, marry a rich doctor or a lawyer and spend the rest of your days as a glorified housespー

xiao doesn't let you finish your thoughts (plans), instead getting up from his chair slowly. "let's take a break." he says, and while you feel a break is a little undeserved after you haven't done much studying, you nod, thinking it might be best to just relax before jumping back into things. "taking things slowly is the better way to do things," you nod, although the words just barely register themselves in your head. you're surprisingly vulnerable with him.

"I'm... going to step out for a moment to get some air. I'll give you some time for yourself to think." you nod, giving him a small and meek thank you, genuinely so utterly grateful for all the time xiao has given you. you can't help yourself from bothering him just once more before he leaves, though.

"xiao?" you don't look up at him, eyes fixated on your answers and what must've been so wrong with them. you hear him hum, beckoning you to continue.

“do you think I'll be able to pass?”

"of course you will," he answers, and it's the first truth he's said all day.

"of course," he mumbles, this time lower, a reminder to himself of how you'd be completely fine on your own, and that he should never, ever take this opportunity for granted.

he makes a promise to himself that he won't.

----- NEW TEXT MESSAGE -----☆

zhongli: hello, [name]. xiao informed me earlier today that you two will be conducting your first study session today. I'm glad you spoke to him about tutoring like I had advised you to. how are things going?

[name]: it's going fine, he mostly just reaffirmed what you already told me though. but he's been really kind about it all, I'm grateful that he agreed to help me out.

zhongli: I see. I hope that he could give you a new perspective on things and aid you in your weak spots. xiao is an amazing student in his own right, and I'm sure that together, you two will make an amazing team. I'm glad you two are getting along.

zhongli: I'd like to give you a little heads up for a future assignment, but there will be a project upcoming where I'll be sure to partner you two up. I'm sure you two will impress me on what you come up with.

zhongli: I believe in you, [name], and I expect good things coming forward.

zhongli: I'm sure that xiao is grateful as well.

[name]: thank you.

[name]: I hope to meet your standards as best as I can.

-----☆

the apartment is even quieter than it was before without xiao.

it's lonely, too.

in a way, you used this little moment to yourself as a justification and way to figure out just what exactly is the enigma that is xiao. now that you're by yourself, you find yourself looking around at his walls, glancing over at one of the two of his cork boards that seems to have a bunch of what looks to be memorabilia of all sorts, stuff like old music concert tickets of local bands you've never heard of, polaroids with some familiar places and even some of his friends, post-it note scribbles of different tasks he has to get done, among other things.

you visualize yourself looking at the corkboard as though it's those ones in those crime movies, where you're using red yarn to connect the pieces of a story together, figuring out with all the clues you have at your disposal who xiao is.

there's other things, too. posters lining the wall and a singular cat shaped plushie on his bed, a wilted bouquet of flowers in a vase on his kitchen countertop meant for decoration, various little knick knacks on his desk, but the part of his room that catches your eye most, though, is his large, expansive bookshelf filled (a little messily) with a variety of different things, almost all of it stuff you actually recognize.

you’re halfway through looking around before you hear the door open back up again. you instinctually freeze, as of you’re a kid who’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. you shift your head, locking eyes with him as he steps back inside. to your surprise, he doesn’t look upset, not even annoyed, just intrigued as he watches you awkwardly shuffle away a little from the bookshelves.

you try to apologize with hast. “sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything, I swear, I was just–“

xiaos quick to interject as he walks right past you over to sit, this time on his bed instead of at his desk. “it’s fine. I don’t mind. you don’t have to apologize.” he crosses his arms once he’s situated in his seat. “do whatever you’d like.” he adds in an attempt to comfort you.

it sounds sarcastic, but you somehow can tell that it’s not. you nod, taking it as (hoping that it’s) permission to keep going. your eyes move over to the other corkboard near the bookshelves, hoping that you’re not stepping over any boundaries by doing so. this board is filled more with many different photos pinned up onto it. there’s all sorts of sites and places, things like concerts or shops or restaurants or nature– the list goes on– with a rare one or two photos with him actually in it. even rarer seemed to be other people that didn’t look like strangers in the background.

you subconsciously speak a thought aloud. “you seem to go out a lot. to really cool places, too.”

the only thing he really says in response is, “all of those aren’t recent.”

you hum in response, eyebrows furrowing a little as you nod in understanding. “oh, I see.” xiao takes it as an opportunity to ask you something even though he knows the answer already. “what about you? do you go out a lot?”

the question takes you a little aback. “I haven’t gotten out a lot recently either.” you try to think about all you’ve done recently, before realizing there’s nothing much to think about at all. you add, in truth, “…you’re honestly the first person I’ve spent time with in a while that wasn’t my roommate, but I don’t think that really counts.”

he cocks his head to the side at that answer, golden eyes staring at you (almost straight through your soul), intrigued. “why haven’t you spent time with anyone else?

a soft pang hits your heart as you think about the reason. the breakup. despite how much time has gone by, you’re still tender about the topic, and would rather not think about everything it’s caused as a result. would rather not think about him, either.

you let out a nervous laugh. “that’s a long story, I guess.”

xiao seems dissatisfied with that answer. he’s never responded so quickly, without hesitating before.

“I have time.”

you send a look of slight confusion his way. “I thought we were going to study some more today?”

“right…” xiao let’s a lot of dead air slip in whenever he speaks, pausing and hanging onto words as if he’s doing mental calculations to figure out what the right thing to say next. “…in the future, then.”

you nod as your eye continues it’s adventure through the board before another photo catches your attention fully. it’s a pretty photo of a bunch of people standing near the docks, holding up and letting go of lanterns. it looks like, judging from the date scribbled on the bottom of the photo and the contents of the photo itself, the annual lantern rite from a few years back. you remember that day, almost vividly, too. that was your first year at the school. you and venti had gone together that year. it was magical. it seems like xiao really was never too far from you. seriously, you’re surprised you two haven’t talked sooner.

you can’t help but smile as you reminisce on that day. “I remember this exact lantern rite. there was so many people, and the lanterns were so beautiful. they always are.”

you turn around to face him, again. “how long has it been since you’ve gone to the harbor? if I lived as close as you do, I think I’d go to the harbor whenever I have time.”

it takes awhile for xiao to respond, not because he’s thinking of an answer, but because he’s transfixed on your expression right now. you seem so happy that it naturally just pulls on his heart strings. he’s glad you still remember that particular lantern rite, even though he knows you’ve gone to more since then. xiao remembers that day visibly too, but probably (definitely) not for the same you do. he wonders if you remember that part of it deep inside.

“um… since the day of that photo, probably.”

you’re a little taken aback from that answer. xiao lives on the outskirts of the harbor. how could he have not gone back in years? everything you learn about xiao makes you more and more curious as to who he is. “really?” you can’t help but ask. he can’t help but shrug.

you speak without even thinking twice once more. “would you want to go again sometime then?” your eyes dart away from his face. you can’t help but look away before you finish the question, unable to look him in the eye as you clarify, “with me, I mean.” you stumble out the words more confidently than you exprcted.

he lets out a sigh. “there’s nothing I want from there…” it’s the truth. he hasn’t been very fond of the harbor for what has felt like centuries, especially not the memories he’s tethered to. he can’t help but to regret the accidental roughness of his words, though, when he looks up to see a flash of embarrassment paint across your face. it feels like he picked the wrong answer, but he wants to say the right one, desperately. xiao has never been great at talking, but he’s trying, for you. “but if you’d like… I’d like to go with you.”

you try to hide the way your heart picks up the pace a little at his words. “let’s go soon, then. I can tell you about myself, and you can tell me about you, too.”

he nods, and for a split second you think you’ve gone insane, because you swear, swear, that for a few seconds, the corner of xiao’s lips curve softly into a smile. a smile! smiling at the thought of you two ‘hanging out’ in the future! for all the times you’ve seen xiao, you can maybe only count on one hand how many times you’ve seen him smile.

“you want to learn about me?” he asks, earnestly, shocked, and it definitely wasn’t a question you were expecting.

“yeah, I mean I've always seen you around. I think we've even been in the same classes before this year, too, and now I’m getting tutored by you and I still know pretty much nothing about you.” you pause before adding on, “I’d love to learn more. I hope that’s not weird, or anything.”

he shakes his head, the ghost of a smile still etched onto his lips. and if you looked closely (which luckily for him, you weren’t), you’d see the faint dust of blush decorating his cheeks, too. “I don’t have much to tell you, but… that sounds good.”

he feels embarrassed at the fact he can’t control how warm his cheeks feel and how he can’t help but crack a smile at you. he clears his throat, trying to reset himself, suddenly ready to move on, going back to his desk.

“let’s keep working, I want to make the most out of the time we have together.” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks. you mentally brace yourself for another study session with him.

it’s gonna be a long night.

ーーー NEW MESSAGE ーーー ☆

ven: where have you been?

ven: haven’t seen you all day……….. ):

ven: my flower, the house is so empty without you……….. ))):

ven: are you with somebody? you never tell me these things anymore.

ven: talk to me soon, please.

ーーー ☆

it's late into the night when you're awakened rudely with a few desperate knocks against your bedroom door.

you can't help but groan as you stir awake, upset to be forced out of your dream state, although that irritation is soon replaced with guilt once you realize just why you were being awakened with such urgency in the first place. after whining out a loud, 'come in,' you peak your eyes open to see your best friend standing in your doorway, tears staining his face so much that they're visible even in the darkness.

shit. it's been so long since you've seen venti like this. you thought all of that was over ages ago.

"can I sleep with you tonight?" his voice is shakey yet gentle, filled with fear and something that you can only label as... need, as if he needs you more than he ever has. just his voice alone, paired with the way he looks so in the doorway while he's shivering and fiddling with his pajamas, hair looking almost as distraught as he's feeling, is enough to have you too stunned to speak.

"please?" he adds on when you don't reply immediately.

you nod, scooting over to make room for him as he slowly trudges to your bed like he's done many times before. he's quick to settle in under the covers with you, laying against the plush pillow underneath him. you move closer to him as though it's instinct, an action done out of retained muscle memory from the many nights you've spent doing this exact thing. your eyes, though half lidded and heavy, trace over his face over and over again, noting how his eyes look back at you and you can't help but think that venti is such an expressive person. even if he's so silent right now, his eyes are cloudy and storming, speaking a thousand words with the thunder that rings out within them.

he looks like he's trying to think of what to say, but he doesn't need to say a single thing. you already know why he's here.

his face is contorted in a way that almost showcases utter agony, and it hurts, hurts to see your best friend suffering, especially when the best you can do is guide your hand softly against the smooth the skin of his cheek and brushing away any tears in pity. if nothing else, you truly do hope that, at the very least, your presence can help.

“do you maybe want to talk about it?” you run your hand through his soft, pretty dyed blue locks that seem to almost glow in the moonlight, feeling the light moisture of his skin from his sweat. you’ve forgotten just how easy it always has been to brush your hand through his locks. your voice is gentle and low as if not to startle him, as if not to shatter him more than he already is. “you know you don’t have to, but you can always talk to me if you need to.”

“no, it’s okay... I just want to be with you right now.” his voice is meek as he chooses his words carefully as though they're meticulously chosen to pull at your heartstrings (they do), and he sounds like he’s on the brink of tears once more.

“is it the same dream as before?” you ask, remembering how many nights you've spent with venti just like this when he began getting frequent ‘nightmares’ awhile back, nightmares that till this day you don't know the contents of.

he nods, although hesitantly, as though it’s some sort of secret. and in a way, it is.

he could never, ever, ever tell you that you’re the cause of all of his nightmares after all.

“are you sure you don’t want to talk about it? you look really upset. you've never told me what makes you like this.”

“no, I just want to… I just want to stay like this for a while.”

“okay, ven,” you whisper, soft and quiet, as if your voice could shatter him whole. you pause, thinking of what to say, before you decide that you won’t prode any further, instead bidding him a goodnight. “I love you, venti. get some rest.”

for the first time in maybe months, venti doesn’t tell you he loves you back.

instead he burrows himself as deep as humanly possible, as if being torn away from you would kill him, just like the way his dreams pulled and tugged ruthlessly at his heart strings, shoving images of you with your new 'tutor' down his throat, like they had with him months and months ago.

how cruel is it that he's forced to see you being ripped away from him both in real life and in his dreams?

-----☆

you're half asleep when you feel him mumble into your skin.

"I miss you. I miss this." he whispers, but you can barely hear him. he misses the way you feel, how comforting you smell, how his hands connect with your body like they're puzzle pieces. he misses having all your attention on him like this, so quick to coo and ask if he's okay. everything’s changed from how it used to be.

"what?"

you feel venti's hands slip under your shirt, feeling the warm skin of your back as he slowly trails his hands up and down, basking in the way that you feel. "I miss you, cecilia. especially today." his voice isn't shakey anymore. instead it's much more fluid, as though he never had the night terrors that brought him into your room to begin with. you can't help but frown at his words even in your sleepy state.

"venti..." you mumble out, feeling his hands start to dig themselves into your skin. his grip on your waist is tightー not enough for it to hurt, but just enough that it keeps you from pushing him away if you really wanted to, trapping and suffocating you, bordering the lines of sucking the air out of your lungs.

part of you wishes he wouldn't keep things so bottled up from you, because clearly, your constant 'absence' in his life is hurting him more than you'll ever be able to understand, but the more selfish part of you is shamefully grateful that he is. you love venti, but for a man who constantly champions for freedom, he's always been so dead set on taking away yours.

you know deep down that if you gave venti an inch, he'd take a mile, and you don't have many miles left to give. you could spend twenty-four hours of a day with venti and he would still want you to somehow spend twenty-five on him. as much as you love ventiー truly, you love him more than anything else in the worldー, you know it'd be better if you didn't indulge him as much as you want him to. lord knows how quick venti would be to turn you into a hollow, empty shell of yourself by taking every second you have all for himself if he could.

besides, this whole thing will blow over eventually after the party, right?

right?

"I know that I've already whined and complained about it, but god, I miss you. you were gone for so long today with someone I don't even know… seeing you occasionally here and there isn't enough for me. I..." venti somehow manages to pull his body even closer to you, your chest and his chest plush against each other, so close that you can feel the way it rises as he breathes slowly. "I know I'm selfish, but I need you."

he says the word 'need' as if he'd die without you.

you don't think this is a conversation you two should be having when you're so... out of it, exhausted.

"venti, can we talk about this in the morning?"

his grip slowly loosens. "...okay." he says the word slowly and hesitantly, as if he's a child saying a cuss word for the first time, as if agreeing to put his feelings aside until you're in a much more lucid and conscious state is a sin. "I'm... I'm sorry for bothering you and being so clingy and... I just..." venti swallows thickly. "goodnight," venti mumbles, choosing not to finish his thought.

your eyebrows furrow, something about this whole conversation feeling off to you. never in a million years would venti have been so... upfront, apart from the day he invited you to the party. it's like venti's slowly unraveling like a string, just one little tug away from snapping.

it wouldn't be the first time venti's snapped on you though. you need to mend things and shut off the ticking time bomb before things blow up in your face again, like when you...

like when you...

ugh. you'll think about all of this later when you're actually well-rested and capable of forming cohesive thoughts. you softly mumble out a goodnight to venti as well, praying that the storm will blow off soon enough.

it doesn't, though. the winds only get stronger and louder.

ーーー��

venti wasn't in your room by the time you woke up. infact, he wasn't in the apartment at all. not in his room, not in the kitchen or in the bathroom getting ready, nowhere. he didn't even leave a text telling you where he went.

you guess that venti needs time to think after last night, and you decide that it's probably for the best.

you'll see him again later anyways.

ーーー☆

it's cold out today, october's chill punishing you for wearing too light of a sweater for the weather, but the freezing temperature of the classroom during today's lecture isn't the cause of the way you squirm in your seat out of discomfort. no, you have professor zhongli to take credit for that.

you're convinced that zhongli gets a kick out of giving you borderline heart attacks.

honestly, that isn't exactly far from the truth. there's something about the way your eyes flicker in complete, utter fear just by him saying, "[name], may you please see me after class? there's something I'd like to discuss with you," that sends shivers down his spine, as egregious as that may sound. it's a shameful feeling for a professor to have, but at least he has much more innocent intentions this time as opposed to the last time he's asked you to stay behind.

the request was given to you right at the start of class (which you were actually on time to, thank god) before he began with his lecture. and once again, you couldn't help but think about just what exactly zhongli wanted to discuss with you throughout the entire lecture, almost too busy coming up with theories to focus. all you can think is, did you do something wrong again? was the assignment you turned in last night bad? all that studying you did with xiao couldn’t have been for nothing, right? you're going to fail the semester at this rate.

you wish zhongli was more dead set on helping you pass like last year than assuring that you failed.

you can’t help but call back to that time. you had been much worse off back then. you were visibly behind everyone else, but it hadn't started that way. so much was happening back then. and that breakup, oh that fucking break up, really made focusing on your school work beyond difficult. you truly did put up a fight, tried to make sure you stayed afloat, and it did work at first. but your responsibilities drowned you completely, and you never really learned how to swim.

it was a rough semester, and one of your classes had been taught by the very same man taking great pleasure in ruining you today. your one saving grace? once again, the very same man, who had seemed to take enough pity onto you that he took matters into his own hands to make sure you did well.

you stood out back then, not because you shone bright, but because you didn't shine at all.

zhongli wanted to light that fire back in you that you had at the start of the year. and he had.

zhongli had took you under his wing, struck you with passion and drive, made you fall in love all over again with the topic you were studying through his ramblings and stories and sheer utter knowledge; he revitalized you, filled a hole. he had kept you after class and in his office on weekends, making time to make sure that you succeeded and through his gentle nurturing that was the hot to his own cold. you had succeeded, to your surprise. and he had looked after you ever since.

it was silly for you to believe that he would grace you with the same mercy this course.

but things are different now. so much more different. you were grateful back then for him striving to push you to do better, but now it's overwhelming. back then, his standards were achievableー finish your assignments on time as often as you could, study a little when you can, at least attempt to attend every class you had. it was doable. but now, now you're almost convinced he wants you to become borderline perfectー no, perfect is an understatement. he wants you to be better than perfect.

perfect, and vulnerable.

back then it felt as though he was trying to help you but now, the back of your mind can't help but tell you that he's always been helping himself, benefiting himself, not you.

it was at the start of this school year that you let yourself fall right into the dragon's lair.

either way, maybe it's the fact that your mind was so occupied, or maybe time simply just decided to speed up, but the class flew by in no time. you had practically tuned out all of zhongli's ramblings and teachings today. you watched zhongli dismiss the class, staying seated despite the way everyone else shuffled out of the door as quickly as possible. once again, it was just you and zhongli in the empty room.

fuck.

zhongli walks to the front of your desk, running a hand through his hair before letting out a long sigh, and you never knew how such a little harmless action could strike so much fear into your heart. could you just combust already? you're not at all ready for whatever zhongli has to say.

"what a long class we had today, hm? I hope I didn't bore you too much. you looked particularly distracted." zhongli says, smiling gently at you as he attempts to brighten the gloomy mood you're clearly in. "luckily, though, I've been excited to talk to you all class. you truly were my saving grace today."

is this some kind of sick joke? you were kidding when you thought zhongli must get pleasure out of your failure, but you might actually be right.

gross.

"don't worry, though, I didn't keep you after class just to complain. I'll get to the point, since I know you hate pointless chatter."

"I know it's far too early to say this, but I'm proud of you, [name]."

that caring nature still shines through, the strict professor he's supposed to be eroded and washed away by time itself.

your eyebrows furrow. "what?" you can’t help but let the word slip out of your mouth in the midst of your confusion.

"the assignment you gave in last night, truly one of your best works this semester. you never fail to amaze me with how fast you manage to make a turnaround when you put your mind to it, [name]."

the assignment? the one you worked on last night at the last second despite having over a week to do it after studying with xiao that you had to keep your eyes pried open to complete? the one xiao had borderline picked apart a dozen times as though trying to break you down even more? that assignment?

what?

"but I... what? if it was any good, it's likely only because xiao was there to help me." you mumble, unsure of your words.

"so? are you really diminishing your accomplishments just because you got a little aid?" zhongli plants a hand on your cheek like he has a dozen times in the past before guiding your face to look up at him. "or are you trying to say that it was xiao who had done your assignment, not you?"

"o-of course he didn't, but-" zhongli is quick to shush you, pressing a gloved thumb against your lips with a soft smile.

"shh. you did well, and that's final. I hope this pattern continues. you know I want nothing but the best for you after seeing what you can achieve." his gloved hand caresses your cheek and you're convinced he can feel the heat your face is producing out of embarrassment even through the layer of fabric. "my little star, you're doing well again." he adds quietly, so quietly that you can just barely make it out, though the nickname is far less shocking than the praise that your brain is still trying to make sense of.

"before I let you go, I just wanted to reiterate that should you ever need my assistance with anythingー and I mean anything at all, whether it's related to your academics or notー know that I am and always will be here."

"I... thank you." it's the only words you can come up with as zhongli leaves you alone with your thoughts. "thank you," you repeat, speaking the words much more quietly. in a hushed whisper.

in the back of your mind, you realize that you should be thinking about how odd it is for zhongli to suddenly be so sugary sweet, how he's touched you so much more intimately than a professor should, how his little nickname for you is weird at best, and yet all you can think about is how he's proud of you.

for some reason, that's all that really matters to you in the moment. you can think about... all that other stuff, later.

ーーー☆

it's almost pitch dark out by the time you finally get home.

"I'm home!" you shout out as soon as you step through the front door, voice a little breathy after having to climb up a few flights of stairs to get up to your apartment, alerting venti that you've arrived in a way akin to how married couples do. you're quick to lock the door behind you, stripping yourself of your shoes that feel more like weights before placing them in the shoe rack near the door and putting your heavy bag down next to venti's violin case, deciding you'll bother with getting whatever you need out of there when you feel like it. you wince a little at the cold tiles of the floor underneath your feet.

maybe one day you'll move into a place with an actual heater, you think.

"I'll be there in just a second!" venti's voice rings out from what you assume is the bathroom down the hall, likely showering given the pitter-pattering sound of running water. you nod, as though responding to him despite the fact he can't see you, flicking on the light switch to the kitchen as you do so. the kitchen table immediately grabs your attention with how different it looks compared to how you left it this morning. two orange pumpkins sit at the center, and alongside it lays an unopened package of carving tools and another package of tea lights, a brown bag filled with what looks to be some house decor and knick knacks (venti truly does love trying to make your run-down apartment as much of a true home as possible), and a bag of groceries yet to be put away.

you sit down at the medium sized wooden table, allowing yourself to rest and bask in the day as you look through everything infront of you. it's been awhile since you've just sat in silence and thought, and even longer since you let yourself really live in this home without just heading straight to your room. your nails drill against the table, pushing one of the two pumpkins closer to you with a soft hum. you trace a finger against it, imaginging what'd you want to carve on it and how it'd glow after you put a candle inside.

this year you should do something new, get a little more fancier with the design that you have in the previous years that you craved a pumpkin. maybe you and venti will carve matching jack-o-laterns this year. you can't help but smile at the thought.

"they're cute, aren't they?"

you tense up when you feel a hand on your shoulder, but you instantly relax when you turn your head to see venti. you guess you were so lost in thought you hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom. you drink in his presence, giving him a glance over out of instinct. the smell of his apple-cinnamon bodywash assault your senses in an oddly comforting way, a scent that makes you feel right at home. he's in a pair pajamas and cute bunny slippers, and his hair is clipped up in a pretty half up, half down ponytail. the blue dyed tips of his hair are losing their signature color (which is odd, considering that despite his inherit laziness, venti's always been one to make sure those tips stay bright blue at all costs) and his skin looks a little damp.

a gummy smile paints his face, and he has a bit of a playful glint in his eye, but he looks notably tired, and a sense of worry pings at your heart at the sight. you were the roommate notorious for having bags under your eyes afterall, not him, so to see him look so exhausted, especially when venti's always been one for getting his 'beauty sleep,' tells you that venti internally isn't feeling his best. it sounds shallow, judging someone's mental health based on their appearance, but you know venti like the back of your hand, and you know that something's wrong.

even moreso, you know exactly what that wrong thing is, given last night's conversation.

"I got them at the grocery store today. thought it might be fun to carve them together before they go bad. that is, if you want to grace me with your undivided time and attention, of course." venti pretends he's joking, but you know deep down he means the sentiment of wanting you to give him your time for once, and you honestly feel awful at his words. nonetheless, you suck it up, smiling up at him. it's a genuine smile.

"why wouldn't I? it is tradition after all. I'm going to make mine extra scary this year."

venti laughs at your words, his heart internally flutter at the thought of how determined your face would look as you try to create the spookiest jack-o-latern he's ever seen. he leans down, pressing a soft, platonic peck to your forehead, finally giving you a welcome home.

"you're home later than usual again, everything go okay?"

you can't help but notice that venti is acting as if he had never said what he said last night, though the air between you is still awkward and tense, and his face does little to hide the fact that deep down, he's still quelling on the things he spoke about. nonetheless, you decide that that conversation is to be had when venti wants it to happen, knowing full well from years of being his best friend that venti prefers keeping a lighter mood at all costs, so you leave things at that until he's ready to speak about it again.

"yeah, I just thought that I'd try to get some work done while I could at campus," you answer, watching as he nods slowly at your words. you can tell he's fighting back the urge to interrogate you, to ask you if you were with anybody and if you really needed to stay at campus, and anything else he can use as a way to rationalize the fact that he's so clingy. he looks around the room, thinking about what else he could say to make sure the conversation doesn't end prematurely.

"oh! I ordered some takeout a bit before you came home. it's still hot, if you want to eat."

you nod, thanking him, and you can tell he's trying to read you, to figure out just how exactly he can stay with you longer without him bringing up anything you two talked about last night. he stands there, presence lingering as though he has something to say, and yet he chooses not to say whatever's on his mind, instead preferring to pick up the unopened bottle of dandelion wine on the nearby kitchen counter.

"you seem all set. I'll get going now, then. I have an urgent date with a bottle of wine that I can't miss for the world." venti moves quickly to leave as though trying to make sure you don't see through to him, turning his back to you without another word, but he doesn't get too far before he's freezing up at your words.

"you're not gonna stay and chat?" you say instinctively, a little surprised by the fact he was so quick to come and go today. you don't know what it is about today, but the thought of venti forcing himself to go when he clearly doesn't want to pains you. maybe it was last night's conversation, or maybe it's how venti radiates warmth that fights against the biting cold that nips at your skin, or maybe you just miss venti, but you want him here with you.

venti turns around slowly, his voice low as he speaks. "oh..." he starts off, "I thought you would've wanted to eat alone like all the other nights," you almost let out a wince at his words. how long has it really been since you last simply hung out with venti? "do you... want me to stay?" you let out a gentle hum.

"I want you here tonight. I want to talk to you."

"about what?"

you think about everything you'd want to tell venti, and you realize that that's exactly it; you want to tell him everything and anything you can. you want to tell him about your new tutor who turned out to be a lot less scary than you were expecting him to be, or that new coffee shop a friend had told you about that opened up near by that you'd love to tell him about, or how zhongli was actually kind to you today. but you also want venti to tell you everything too, about any escapades he's had recently while drunk or new songs he's written, or even how his classes are going and if he's thinking of going to any other parties soon.

you realize that, as much as you'd hate to admit it to yourself, you miss just being with venti a lot too.

"everything," you finally reply after thinking, grinning up at his hesitant form.

"everything? really? this isn't a ploy to tell me horrific news or to try to get out of going to that party, is it?"

"no, I promise. I'm honestly a bit offended you'd think I'd ever be so cruel as to try to get out of going to such an amazing party," you joke.

venti playfully rolls his eyes at your words, but he can't help the smile that creeps up his face. his smile is bright like a star, warm enough for a planet to survive off of, eyelids crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he puts the bottle in his hand down befofe he pulls up one of the kitchen chairs, the legs screeching against the floor so that he's sitting infront of you. he leans in close to you as though you were about to tell him the greatest story known to man. you can't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside. venti's smile, his real and genuine smile, gives you a feeling like no other. it makes you feel whole, like none of your problems neither exist nor matter and that everything in this world is perfect.

"okay then, dove, tell me everything."

ーーー NEW TEXT MESSAGE ーーー☆

alatus: can you believe it's almost sunday already?

[name]: holy shit, time is going by so fast

[name]: I'm so excited to meet you in person

alatus: I'm excited too.

[name]: I can't believe I've known you for over a year and I'm only going to get to see your face now

[name]: I swear, if you're just some creep...

alatus: I promise I'm not.

alatus: well, maybe.

[name]: ha ha, very funny.

[name]: but seriously, it honestly feels like I've known you for forever.

alatus: maybe you have and you just never noticed

#tw stalking #tw age gap #tw possession #tw student teacher relationship #tw yandere #tw manipulation #yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere Genshin impact x reader

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