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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

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chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

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Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him.

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?”

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along.

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

#chemical override #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #matt smith #matt smith x reader

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serpentface · 6 days ago

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Professional bard singing the Apomalo Menaloe, one of the shorter epic poems in the Wardi canon.

It centers on the ancient mythological hero Menaloe undergoing a journey to the lunar lands while still alive, attempting (and failing) to retrieve his wife after she dies in childbirth. It's a notable as an outlier among this body of poetry in its short internal timespan, extremely limited cast of characters, focus on a romantic relationship, and decidedly subdued and meditative qualities. Part of this can be attributed to it being a heavily modified fragment of a much larger oral tradition, the rest of which is lost in its original poem forms.

This is often the first longform poem a bard memorizes while learning their craft, being relatively short and simple compared to most epics (which may take days on end to sing in full). Most poems are accompanied by drumming, but this one utilizes the drum with great specificity. It is traditionally performed with a simple two-beat structure directly evoking a heartbeat (changing tempos to reflect the hero's emotional state), as a supplement to the story's meditations on the inevitable and irreversible nature of bodily death and the burden of grief upon the living (especially given the heart is considered the seat of the soul, and thus mind and emotion). The eventual death of Menaloe is not recounted in words, but implied with the performance ending in a slowed drumbeat, then silence.

#Menaloe is pronounced 'men uh low way'. It's a fairly common name.#I've been really inconsistent in how/when I use accents to indicate pronunciation but am considering including diaeresis for the #romanization of Wardi since it's common for individual vowels to indicate different syllables in ways un-obvious to anglophone readers #ie Menaloë Haidamanë kulimanë emensë wannaücoma ([name] [name] [dog type] ['beloved'] ['ant'])

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wisteria-lodge · 4 months ago

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And now for a HP fandom question - do you have any thoughts on queercoding in the series and if JKR ever actually intended it, and then backtracked, or if it was always completely unintentional? I'm thinking specifically about Lupin and Tonks (as individuals, not as a ship) Inspired by your post about the intention vs how fans perceived Draco Malfoy. Thanks!

So the first thing I want to do is make a distinction between femme-coding and queer-coding. They're tropes with very similar histories, and a lot of works treat them as the same thing. But Harry Potter doesn’t, and I think we can chalk this one up to JK Rowling’s habit of grabbing aesthetics and visuals without really thinking through the history behind them.

(Like - the goblins. She says she didn’t mean to write an antisemitic thing, and I actually do believe her. But did she use a lot of tropes and images with a long history of being tied to antisemitism? yes.)

So when I say “femme” I mean giving a male character traits stereotypically associated with femininity. Heightened sensitivity/emotionality, an interest in hair, clothes and being attractive, a love of lace/pink/frills, a dislike of violence and physical confrontation, and a preference for the soft power of manipulation, character assassination and poison - versus the hard power of direct confrontation and physical prowess. Are these things super stereotypical? Yes. But they’re ALSO traits you see all the time on male villains, especially ones that you don’t want to seem that threatening. Femme-coded villains show up a lot in children’s media, or as the Big Bad’s #2. They’re not meant to be heroic or sympathetic (since all these feminine traits are not desirable, especially for guys.) But they also aren’t scary, and you can pretty much always play them for comedy.

For example: see almost every male Disney villain. And JKR was writing children’s literature in the 90s, so of course she’s pulling from the same zeitgeist as the Disney Renaissance.

JKR loves herself a femme villain. The absolute gold standard is of course Lockhart - who wears pink, wants to start his own line of hair care products, is self-centered, vain, obsessed with popularity… but he sucks in a fight. His entire MO involves manipulating people into thinking he has these traditional masculine qualities when he just doesn’t. But there’s also fussy, prissy Percy wearing his prefect badge on his pajamas. Bitchy, emotional mean-girl poisoners Draco and Snape (especially early book Snape - which is Snape at his most villainous.) Draco, Percy and Snape are also unusual for being male characters who we see crying for reasons other than grief.

Lucius Malfoy is an interesting case because he starts off quite masc. He’s threatening to curse people, the governors are scared of him, etc. But, as the books go on… and he gets less powerful… he also gets more femme. When we meet him in Book 5 he’s no longer threatening people, but bribing them, spreading rumors, and giving interviews to the Prophet casting Arthur Weasley in a negative light. He's also getting really into peacocks. In Book 2 he was a major threat, but as he gets recast as Voldemort’s #2 he becomes a more femme, soft-power villain. When he leads the attack on the Department of Mysteries, he absolutely bungles it, which defines his character (and relationship with Voldemort) for the rest of the series. And it makes sense that Lucius is given this kind of treatment! It’s a way of communicating that there's a new villain in town, a real villain.

So, are any of these femme-coded villains additionally queer-coded? I’m actually going to say no. Queer-coding is (like it says on the tin) finding ways to imply that your character is specifically gay. Like maybe giving them a same-sex relationship that is written romantically, but not explicitly called out by the text. Or pairing up all of the characters except them. Maybe have other characters joke about them being gay, and use that as a way to talk about the subject with some plausible deniability. Or they could just play suggestively with a cigar, or a walking stick. There are different strategies.

But Lockhart doesn't get any of that. Honestly, I think that if JKR actually thought of him as gay, she would have been a lot more wary about a scene where he keeps Harry alone with him in his office for way longer than he’s supposed to. And she might have skipped this joke:

“Harry was hauled to the front of the class during their very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf (...) “Nice loud howl, Harry — exactly — and then, if you’ll believe it, I pounced — like this — slammed him to the floor — thus — with one hand, I managed to hold him down — with my other, I put my wand to his throat (...) he let out a piteous moan — go on, Harry — higher than that — good —”

Like. At least she would have picked a different word than “moan,” right? Which unfortunately has slightly sexual connotations. Especially if she wanted to keep Lockhart a buffoon, to properly set up the twist at the end.

Slughorn also gets femme-coded in a similar way: he loves his candy, his parties, his smoking jackets, his lilac silk pajamas, his web of connections he can use to get stuff (Lucius style.) We are introduced to him squatting in specifically a “fussy old lady’s” house. He’s also unusually emotional, getting weepy at Aragog‘s funeral. But I don’t think we’re meant to read him as actually gay, or else his relationship with Tom Riddle might’ve read a little too close to Tom seducing/trying to seduce him. Which is a beat JKR does subtly play out with Hepzibah Smith, but idk. by that point at least Tom is a legal adult.

(As a side note - the Harry Potter series got so lucky that all of its adult characters are played by absolutely top-shelf actors who are aware of the connotations and history behind various symbols, and do consider these things in their performances. Kenneth Brannagh and Jim Broadbent are good enough to make sure there’s not even a hint of iffy subtext when they play Lockhart and Slughorn.)

Draco, Snape, and Percy all have a case of the not-gays. Percy has a girlfriend (we don’t really see her or anything, but we’re told she’s there.) Snape of course gets his whole thing with Lily, and Draco… after one too many beats where it’s clear that Pansy is into him, but he’s not into Pansy… gets a scene where he’s talking to his buddies with his head in her lap. (JKR uses “no one‘s good enough for me” beats with Blaise, Draco and Sirius, and the idea there seems to be more that they have undeservedly high opinions of themselves, and less that they don’t like girls.)

But, I do agree that a lot of JKR's characters do come across as a little more queer than intended. It boils down, I think, to the general lack of any kind of romance in the Harry Potter books and JKR being generally bad at/uncomfortable with writing male attraction directed at women, BUT being perfectly happy writing attraction directed at pretty guys. And because of that… yeah, it can sometimes feel like maybe Harry has a thing for Cedric. Especially when Dudley goes on to tease him about Cedric being his boyfriend, which I believe is the only actual mention of gay people in the entire series.

So is there any intentional queer-coding in the book? It’s really subtle, but yes. I think Dumbledore is queer-coded. He is unusually emotional/cries unusually often for a Rowling guy. He is also given a scene which emphasizes his “flamboyantly” cut plum-velvet suit, and his relationship with Grindelwald is implied to be romantic for one book and two movies before being actually confirmed in Fantastic Beasts 3. (With the line of dialogue “I was in love with you.” Big step up from “We were closer than brothers.” which is an odd thing to say about someone you are interested in romantically.)

But you brought up Tonks and Lupin, two characters very commonly interpreted as queer. So let’s get into that. JKR has said that she considers Lupin’s lycanthropy to be a metaphor for stigmatized diseases like AIDS. And… as incredible as it is to say… I actually do not think that she made the jump from there to thinking that maybe the character suffering from AIDS should be gay.

Because the narrative places so much weight on Lupin being bitten young and then on maybe not being allowed to attend school, I’m pretty sure that he’s not intended to be queer so much as he’s meant to be Ryan White, the literal poster child for AIDS activism who got infected via blood transfusion when he was two. Tragic, absolutely. But not gay. Honestly, I hope JKR was thinking of ‘lycanthropy’ as a metaphor for stigmatized illness in the abstract and not as a comment on gay people specifically. Because otherwise, Greyback’s thing about biting children becomes a mash-up of two of the biggest homophobic boogeymen from the 80s: gay men infecting people with AIDS on purpose because… idk, they hate the world or something. And the influence of gay men somehow “turning” children gay. Both absolutely real, if ridiculous, moral panics.

On top of that, Remus and Sirius do get a pretty clear case of the not-gays early on (“He embraced Black like a brother.”) Buuuut Alfonso Cuarón did think through those implications for Movie 3, absolutely saw Lupin as gay, and directed David Thewlis to play him accordingly. No reports confirming or denying whether Alfonso Cuarón ships Wolfstar, but I think that if I’m an actor trying to make sense of Lupin’s motivations… and I know he didn’t show Dumbledore the Marauders’ Map and didn’t tell anyone Sirius was an animagus… and then I’m told my character is gay… well. Anyway, I think there are absolutely hints of Wolfstar in that performance.

And there's Tonks. Tonks is introduced during a very spooky segment in Book 5: Harry has been going through it, been left alone at the Dursleys while having what sounds like a depressive episode. It’s dark, he hears intruders. It's a really good piece of writing. But JKR knows that it’s the good guys who are coming and thinks, okay. Let’s make that as clear as possible from the word go. And so the first thing Harry sees is Tonks' pink hair. And what kind of person has pink hair? A young adult. A punky young adult. And what power would a teenager think was cool? Well, the ability to change the color of their hair at will. That, by itself, would have worked perfectly fine for this character.

But then (for reasons best known to herself) JKR goes further. Even though Tonk’s hair changing color is easily 90% of the transformations we see and there is no plot reason her appearance needs to change more than that, we see her drastically change her age and body type. When you think about this power for more than five seconds, it becomes kind of OP. For worldbuilding reasons alone, my instinct would’ve been to tone it down a bit.

But no, we have this counterculture character who seems interested in her career and not in a relationship, who can easily change anything about her body, and (if her ability works anything like Polyjuice) that means she should definitely be able to change her gender. Cool.

Then, in everyone’s least favorite romance, Tonks and Lupin are paired up. I have heard the argument that this was meant to walk back queer-coding, or to punish people who thought they were queer... but I don’t think that’s the case. I don’t think JKR expected these two to be fan favorites, and then was kind of surprised when everyone wanted to hear about their continuing adventures.

(There are a handful of characters who JKR clearly really enjoys - and really enjoys writing - that fandom honestly could not care less about. Mundungus Fletcher and Ludo Bagman spring to mind. But the reverse is also true. She had one story for Lupin and people wanted to see more. Tonks is probably supposed to be her comment on immature young adults: she is loud, in your face, causes mild destruction and is “a little annoying at times.” But the fans fell in love with her.)

So JKR has these two fan favorite characters and nothing for them to do. A romance is something for them to do. JKR also has a kind of weird pattern where good people need to either have kids or take care of kids. It’s not good to be a woman who isn’t involved with taking care of children in some fashion: see Rita Skeeter, Dolores Umbridge, Bellatrix Lestrange. This is also (I think) why Harry names his kids specifically after Severus, Sirius, and Albus. Since they’re good men, JKR had to find a way to give them kids after the fact.

So yeah. I think we were meant to read Tonks and Lupin having a kid as kind of a reward, or at least as proof of their intrinsic goodness. There also just isn’t another guy in the right age range to ship Tonks with. The only other option is Sirius.

(Harry in the books and Lupin on Pottermore both suspect that Tonks/Sirius is a thing. Completely forgetting, I guess, that they're cousins.)

#hp #hp meta #hp close reading #queer coding in hp #femme coding in hp #jkr critical #anti jkr #draco malfoy #severus snape #lucius malfoy #percy weasley #gilderoy lockhart #horace slughorn #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #albus dumbledore #aids #literary analysis

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kikyoupdates · 5 months ago

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Tears of a Villainess ⭑˚🗡️⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒: 𝑎 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒

yandere!ocs x reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, original characters x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

Reincarnation isn't as great as it sounds, especially when you've been reborn as none other than the villainess. Fated to die if you stand in the heroine's way, you immediately resolve to distance yourself from the plot. As long as you have nothing to do with any of the relevant characters, surely, you'll be able to avoid an untimely death. But in a horrible turn of events, the heroine ends up wanting to get close to you. Are you really doomed to meet the villainess' tragic end? Or is there an even more sinister fate that awaits you?

story masterlist | next

Nobody likes the villainess.

This is because in virtually every novel, anime, or game, she is designed to be the heroine’s adversary. She is given little to no redeemable qualities, so that people will sympathize with the heroine that much more. While people root for the heroine to succeed, they also root for the villainess to fail—and inevitably, she does.

The game you’ve just finished playing is no exception.

“Wow. The villainess died in this ending too, huh?”

You rub your eyes. It’s late, nearly halfway through the night already. You have a bad habit of getting sucked into the games you play and losing track of time. You’ll be dead on your feet tomorrow, but you suppose that’s nothing special. At least you managed to clear all the major routes. There might’ve been some secret endings you missed, but you’ll go back and find those another day.

A heavy yawn falls from your lips. You lean back and stretch your arms out before closing your laptop and standing up from your desk.

As far as dating sims go, this one wasn’t too bad. The plot was predictable enough, but the characters were a lot more interesting than you were expecting. The heroine was perhaps a bit more naive than you would’ve liked, but you enjoyed her dynamic with each of the love interests, and all in all, it made for a likable cast.

Except for the villainess, of course. Nobody ever likes the villainess.

You start washing up and getting ready for bed, thoughts lingering all the while. If only the villainess had more depth to her. It’s a common trend in all of these fantasy-themed dating sims. Like, you understand that she’s meant to be an antagonist, but she’s still human, at the end of the day. Isn’t she allowed to have any sympathetic traits? Anything that could possibly make the player understand why she behaves the way that she does?

It’s practically an unwritten rule that villainess characters are required to be devoid of any actual substance. Their purpose is simply to torment the heroine, and somewhere down the road, face penance for their crimes.

The whole trope has been done to death by this point. Just once, can’t they come up with a more realistic villainess, who isn’t pure evil and has the capacity for normal human emotion? It’s true that antagonists are meant to be disliked, but you would still be much more appreciative of a credible and well-developed adversary. It would definitely enrich the story.

If you were ever to be put in charge of the villainess character, you’d like to think that you would do her justice.

But, well, that obviously won’t happen.

You get into bed, pile on some blankets, then flick your nightstand lamp off. Darkness comes quickly, signaling your weary eyelids to fall shut. Exhausted from a long night, you fall asleep right away.

Blissfully unaware.

Shit… it’s so bright.

As always, it takes a while for your eyes to open, and they do so with remarkable reluctance. You would think that since you’re not at all a morning person, you would get into the habit of going to bed early, but no, you’re determined to make the experience as painful as possible every time.

“G-Good morning, Lady [Name]. It’s time to wake up now. Did you sleep well?”

There’s a voice in the room. There’s a voice in the room, and it isn’t yours, which is kind of a big deal, because you live alone.

You jolt upright in bed, suddenly wide awake. “The fuck?! Who are you?”

It takes a few seconds for the blurriness to fade from your eyes, but when it finally does, you find yourself staring at a young woman you most certainly do not recognize. She has a meek, almost fearful expression, and her shoulders seem to be trembling a bit.

Why does she look so scared? You’re the one who’s supposed to be scared in this situation. After all, you just woke up with a goddamn stranger in your room.

Except… is this even your room?

On second glance, you realize that this doesn’t look anything like your bedroom. It’s countless times bigger, for one, not to mention how extravagantly decorated it is. Rather than a bedroom for a debt-addled university student, it looks more like the kind of chambers a princess might sleep in.

“I-I’m not sure what you mean, my lady,” the woman stammers in response. “Please forgive my rudeness. I was told to wake you at this hour because your fiancé is coming to visit this morning.”

“Huh…?”

You’re still gaping from having looked around the room, which is without a doubt, not the same old crappy bedroom you’re used to. But now that you finally look back at her, you realize that she’s equally as strange as the surroundings you find yourself in.

“Is that a maid outfit?” you ask.

She blinks twice, then casts a quick glance towards her attire. Obviously, she must not understand the purpose of the question, because her brows knit together in visible confusion.

“Yes, it is,” she nods hastily. There’s a pause, and then she looks scared again. “Does it… displease you? You said before you didn’t like the previous design. I-I can run down to the seamstress and have her come up with a different uniform that’s more to your tastes. Please forgive me for upsetting you this early in the morning.”

She bows deeply, as if she’s seeking to be absolved for some grave sin. You still don’t understand what the hell is going on, but based on how she’s dressed, and the way she keeps referring to you, it seems unlikely that she’s here to cause you any harm.

Actually, what did she call you earlier?”

“[Name],” you repeat, pointing to yourself. The maid cautiously raises her head and looks up at you, and you proceed to point again. “When you say that, are you… referring to me?”

Once again, she looks confused beyond belief, but despite that, she nods in agreement.

Well, then. This is awkward. Because as far as you remember, that is not your name.

You’re not sure what else to do but jump out of bed, and you run to the first mirror you can spot. As it so happens, there’s a massive vanity in the room, and it quickly confirms your greatest fears.

“Holy fuck.”

This isn’t your body. For as many years as you’ve lived, you have never looked like this. Even your voice sounds a bit different than usual, but you initially chalked that up to morning grogginess.

Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, and you can’t even believe just how absurd this situation is.

You know who you are now. Having gotten a good look at yourself, but not only that, having heard how that maid referred to you, there’s no longer any doubt in your mind.

[Name]. You know that name all too well.

It’s none other than the villainess from the goddamn dating sim you just played.

You pinch your cheeks, and much to your horror, you can feel the pain. All of this is far too realistic and far too lucid for it to be a simple dream. The more time passes, the more you become viscerally aware of that fact.

This has seriously got to be a fucking joke.

When you said you had a tendency to get sucked into the games you played, you didn’t mean it literally!

“My lady,” the maid mumbles hesitantly. You notice that she’s incredibly wary of you, and is mindful of keeping as much distance as possible. “Is everything… alright? I-I’m very sorry if I’m overstepping. I just worry that… you might not be feeling well. Should I call for a doctor?”

Now you understand why she’s so skittish around you. In the game, the villainess treated everyone around her cruelly, including the maids and servants who’d waited on her for years. She was a true bitch in every sense of the word, just like every other one of her villainess predecessors, but now, it falls on you to take her place.

This is a big problem.

Because as far as you know, the only fate that awaits you in this world is death.

“I’m fine,” you reassure, smiling for good measure. Right. There’s no sense in panicking right off the bat. You’re sure there must be a solution. For the time being, you need to come to terms with everything. “Um… I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name. Anyways, would you please step out of the room so I can change? I'm still a bit drowsy. I’ll feel better once you give me a few minutes.”

The maid tries—but fails—to hide her shock. Something about what you just said must have tripped her up. The part about forgetting what to call her, maybe? Or perhaps your overall demeanor is off. It’s true that you’ve been acting kind of crazy, like questioning your own name and whatnot.

Well, hopefully she doesn’t read into it too much.

While the maid scampers off and shuts the door behind her, you start pacing around the room. It’s massive, so it actually feels less like pacing and more like walking laps around a field, but that’s neither here nor there.

You’ve been reincarnated into a dating sim, as the villainess who is destined to die in all of the game’s major endings. No matter who the heroine ends up with, her happy ending will come at the expense of your life.

But that’s only if you actually adhere to the plot, right?

You don’t know how the mechanics of this universe function. Even though this is a video game, it feels every bit the same as living in the real world. Of course, this fictional world was constructed around the plot, and you have no way of knowing if the world will continue to exist should things go awry.

Still, you’re willing to bet that it should. After all, the villainess is just a bland, disposable character. Her only purpose is to create conflict and add pressure to the heroine’s life. If you deliberately avoid crucial stages of the plot, doesn’t that mean that the heroine will naturally fall in love with one of her suitors and get her happily ever after? There doesn’t need to be a villainess in this story. Or in any story, for that matter.

You turn back towards the vanity to get another look at yourself. It feels so strange to stare back into a reflection that isn’t truly your own. But you don’t know how you’ll ever get back to your old world, and if such a thing is even possible anymore.

For better or worse, you will have to live on.

Lady [Name]. The villainess who attempted to thwart the heroine at every turn, and who made it her life’s mission to bring nothing but misfortune to those around her.

That is who you’ve been reborn as, and needless to say, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to.

“...think she must have eaten something rotten last night,” you can just vaguely hear someone whispering. “She even said sorry to me! And she acted like she didn’t know her own name!”

When you step out into the hallway after getting dressed, you aren’t at all surprised to hear people gossiping about you. As you surmised, it’s the same maid from earlier, the one who woke you up, and she’s chatting up a storm to practically anyone who’s willing to listen.

However, everyone’s faces turn pale when they see you approaching, and the poor maid snaps her lips shut as if she’s a clam. It seriously looks like she just saw her life flash before her eyes.

The servants all seem to fear you, and rightfully so. In the game, even though nothing was ever shown from the villainess’ perspective, it was still common knowledge that she mistreated her housestaff. She was a pompous, spoiled brat who clearly thought she was above everyone else. That cruel attitude of hers naturally carried over to her treatment of the heroine, and to far greater extremes.

It’s true that you’ve been reborn as the villainess, but that doesn’t mean that you have to be a villainess. In fact, you think it would be in your best interest to turn your reputation around. Surely then, you’ll have no way of getting caught up in nasty business with the heroine. You don’t want anyone to take issue with you. After all, the more enemies you have, the more likely you are to be killed.

Besides, it’s also just common decency to not act like a bitch.

“L-Lady [Name],” the same maid blanches. She’s clearly horrified to have been caught gossiping, and she brings her hands together, already begging to be forgiven. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss, letting slip a chuckle. “I was acting pretty strange this morning, huh? I guess I just didn’t get a good night’s sleep. But I’m feeling much better now. Anyways, I hope all of you are having a lovely morning so far!”

You walk off confidently, feeling as though you’ve taken yet another step towards restoring the villainess’ horrible reputation.

It’s not going to be that easy, though.

“She must have been possessed by a spirit…”

While everyone is losing their heads due to your sudden change in demeanor, you take the opportunity to walk through the manor and familiarize yourself with your surroundings. From what you remember, [Name] is the daughter of wealthy, reputable nobles. Her father is an affluent man with many connections, and it follows that she would grow up to be incredibly full of herself, used to always getting whatever she wants.

Seriously. Can’t these villainesses ever have more inspired backstories?

You shake your head in disbelief. Well, whatever. Perhaps it’s better that you don’t come from a tragic background. If there’s one benefit to being transported to this world, it’s the fact that you at least don’t have any more debts or student loans to worry about.

Then again, none of that will matter if you end up dead. You need to remember that every decision you make from now on could end up impacting your future in a big way.

Amongst the chaos of waking up in a completely new body, however, you’ve forgotten a very crucial piece of information. Something the maid mentioned earlier, which has since slipped your mind.

“[Name]!” someone suddenly exclaims. It’s a woman you don’t recognize, but she’s dressed immaculately and bears a striking resemblance to you, so you assume she must be your mother.

“Good morning,” you greet. You’re not sure what the right etiquette is for whenever nobles greet their parents, so you curtsy awkwardly.

Your mother just stares at you, and the silence is palpable.

Looks like that was a swing and a miss.

“What’s the matter with you?” she then frowns, gesturing towards your general appearance. “Why do you look so unkempt? I thought I reminded you last night that your fiancé would be visiting today. He’s just arrived and will be joining us for breakfast. And you expect to greet him in such a state?”

“I look nice,” you say simply.

“You aren’t even properly zipped up in the back. And did you even put on any makeup? Good grief. Which incompetent maid dressed you this morning? I’ll need to have a word with her.”

You’d rather not get anyone in trouble, especially since that one maid in particular looked like she was fighting for her life.

“I dressed myself today,” you confess.

Your mother’s eyes widen. “What? Why in the world would you do that when you have countless servants to do it for you?”

“Um… I don't know. Just for fun, I guess.”

She proceeds to give you that same quiet yet judgmental look from earlier, but after a heavy sigh, she relents.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore,” she grumbles, fiddling with the zippers of your dress and adjusting everything in place. She fusses over you for a while, but finally, she appears satisfied. Well, somewhat, at least. “That will have to do. You wouldn’t want to keep your guest waiting. Come along.”

She gestures for you to follow, which is actually a lucky break, because you were pretty much lost before she showed up.

Your mother walks for a while, then stops before a large door.

“He’s already waiting inside,” she tells you. “Make sure to be on your best behavior. We want this arrangement to go well. Alright?”

You nod in agreement. You’re not sure whether the villainess was well-behaved or not, but surely it can’t hurt to have your parents’ approval. You’ll need their resources and support if you ever land yourself in hot water.

Thus, you step inside the room to meet with your fiancé. But you’ve been so caught up in all the craziness that you actually forgot exactly who that fiancé was.

Soon enough, he’s looking you dead in the eye.

“Good morning, [Name]. I’m truly fortunate to meet with you so early in the day.”

The young man bows politely, and when he raises his head, there’s a subtle, practiced smile on his lips. It’s the smile of someone who is well-versed in etiquette and knows how to behave around others, but it isn’t a genuine smile, and certainly not the smile of someone who is happy to see their fiancée.

After all, he has no interest in you. He will never have any interest in you.

He is Alistair Calderwood, and he is destined to fall in love with the heroine.

You don’t respond. His was the first route you ever played in the game, so you’d almost forgotten that technically speaking, he was the villainess’ fiancé to start. It was one of the main reasons she harassed the heroine. Because their engagement fell through.

“[Name]?” your mother frowns. She chuckles weakly, unsettled by your silence, then outright jabs you in the ribs. “What are you doing? Hurry up and greet him!”

Greet him. Right, you have to greet him. It’s the normal thing to do. You’re meant to greet your fiancé, then enjoy a nice breakfast together.

But if you stick to normalcy, to the way things are supposed to go, you’ll end up dead faster than you know it.

So, fuck being normal. You’ve already decided what the right course of action is.

“Hello, Alistair,” you say, responding to his bow with a polite curtsy. “It’s nice to see you too. Thank you for coming all this way, but…”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to finish your sentence, but nothing could have prepared him for what you’re about to say.

“...I think we should break off our engagement.”

Alistair’s jaw drops open. So does your mother’s, for that matter. Even the servant standing idle in the corner of the room lets out a quiet gasp and covers their mouth with the palm of their hand.

As for you?

You can hardly contain your smile.

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dropsnectar · 5 months ago

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Pollen and Potions: Bee-men x afab!reader

PART THREE

This is a longer part than the rest, but its all necessary dialogue so it should be fine. More fluffy and romance than smut, BUT!! Their will be smut in the next section! I know I said this will only be 4 parts, but it may actually be more like 5 or 6. Anyway, hope you like!

So. You were starting to learn that using large batches of magic back to back weren't ideal for a young witch's health. It seemed like you might have overdone it, as when you woke you found you had been asleep for TWO WHOLE DAYS. So. If you were going to do magic, it looked like you were going to have to pace yourself, or perhaps use LESS magic.

You put yourself to learning more about witchcraft. The thing was, your grandmother's books didn't really go into the basics, and as witches were so rare, information was hard to find. Of course, the internet was full of supposed witch spells, or frameworks, but it was like throwing dice. Some spells didn't work. Some spells took up WAY too much energy. Some were just… fine? But not what you needed.

Next you checked out forum sites. Maybe you could find a community through that way? But all you found were psychics and tarot readers. Nice people, but not what you needed.

Whelp. Maybe you needed to look at the issue differently. The environment used to be a beautiful, thriving area. What had changed between now and then? In order to understand a magic ecosystem, you had to understand ecosystems. So, for the rest of the week you busied yourself with ecology study. It was turning out that this project you had adopted on a whim would need a lot more time and breadth of knowledge then you originally thought.

***

When you met with Rena, under Lyith’s friendly gaze, you found that the magic you had cast hadn't waned at all. The flowers had grown beautifully and continued to give magic nectar that created the best honey. Rena was beside herself. “The elders of the hive say they haven't had honey of this quality since they were children! You are really onto something here, little one.”

Rena had now gotten in the habit of calling you little one. Sure, as a Bee-man she was slightly taller than you, but not by much. Also the constant fluttering and floating didn't help.

“You've been given permission to test your magic on our other gardens as well. As long as we are careful and continue with caution!” Rena babbled. You gave her a small smile and felt Lyiths arm on your shoulder. He laid his head on your other shoulder, leaning his fuzzy head against yours.

“Whats wrong?”

You wiggled a little. “I'm just having a hard time brainstorming how to do this. I know I said I'd help you guys, but I might not be able to use as much magic as last time. To be honest, I don't really know much about my mana and my limits…” you explained your situation. Expecting there to be disappointment, you were surprised to find none.

“I can’t help but think… How long will this last? One spell isn’t going to cut it for that long. I want to create something that will last for you guys, but that might take a while… and doing just this took all the mana I had. I want to do better. But I don’t want to hurt myself either, especially when I don’t know how this could affect my health in the long run…” The bee-men seemed to be catching on.

“Of course, little one. We wouldn't want you to harm yourself.”

Lyith also popped up, his voice almost in your ear.

“Us Bee-men also have something like mana. Our magic is not never ending. We would have fixed this situation ourselves if it was.”

Rena reached forward and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring pat. “We don't have to do anything today. We can commence whenever you'd like. Our flowers have spread out beautifully and even this is enough.”

You frowned.

“I may have to do this every spring. Or even redo it in the summer…”

“You don’t owe us anything. You are trying your best to do us a kindness. And our hive knows and sees that. We are beyond grateful to you… Its… We’ve needed…We are truly grateful.” His expression fell at the mention of his hive, his antennas drooping. Rena moved forward and held Lyith, a sad expression on her own face.

There was a pause in conversation that grew somewhat awkward.

How do I make this better? You tried to brainstorm, but only one thing came to mind.

You went over and gave the both of them a big bear hug. It was a tense one, but you tried to adjust your emotions, instead concentrating on how fond you had grown of the two. You tried to shout it as loud as you could through your brain at them.

This seemed to break the spell, as Rena started to laugh. Lyith looked at you affectionately.

“I know we haven't known each other long, but I just want to say, you can count on me. If you ever need to talk about anything let me know. I'll listen.”

Rena and Lyith hummed in response, returning your group hug with a long squeeze.

Long hugs. The favorite actions of a Bee-men.

After some quiet reassurances, the two of you decided to idle while the two foraged on the edge of the Wood. You walked with them and asked them as many questions you could think of. How old were they? Were they able to do other magics? You had thought Bee-men to be isolated. How come they knew so much about human culture?

Lyith was the one who answered you most of the time. It seemed that bee-man typically lived double the life of a human, with Rena and Lyith being about 45, and 51, Lyith being the oldest. They were in the same season of life as you though!

Bee-man could do some other magics(they didn't go much into what), but they specialized in making their magical honey, which fortified the health and wellbeing of a Bee-men.

They didn’t say it outright but it seemed like the dip in magic had affected the nutrition of their food source. They kept their own bees and shared honey, but it still wasn't enough, so they had ventured out into human society to buy fruit when it was necessary. They also did trade with neighboring beast-men, the Wolfmen being happy to share their fruit for their Bee’s wax waste. I

“What exactly do you guys do for fun though?” You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Lyith smiled. “Late night flying is fun.”

Rena snorted. “You mean late night spying. Lyith has a habit of looking through people's windows.”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at Rena. “If they did not want to be seen they would have drawn the curtains. It's not strange, I am just curious about human life is all.”

Rena reached forward and pinched Lyiths nose. “Poor thing. So bored he must make mischief.”

You looked at Lyith with surprise. His big eyes grew in concern and he pouted at you.

“You are not going to tease me too are you? I promise, I never see anything scandalous. I'm a good little bee.” He fluttered his eyes at you.

You giggled and pushed his shoulder.

“As long as you're not spying on me I guess it's harmless.”

Lyiths expression shifted to one of his dopey smiles. It always surprised you how innocent he could look despite his size. Was it maybe…

“So… I may have read that you guys are telepathic right?”

Renas face changed into a smirk.

“Yes, and?”

“ Well, have you guys ever… used your powers on me?”

Rena snorted. Lyith gave you an unreadable expression. “We Bee-man are very particular about sharing our heads outside of our hives. But no. We haven't done anything to you if that's what you meant…”

Oh. He was pouting now.

“No! Thats not what I meant! I just… i feel so comfortable around you guys it's almost supernatural. I just. Idk. Wanted to know. Please I didn't mean anything by it!”

Lyith wrinkled his nose at you and Rena continued to seem amused. You felt helpless and got a bit upset with yourself. You did your best to calm yourself down but you were upset. You had so few friends here and you were afraid you blew it. A wave of loneliness swept through you.

Lyith was watching you the whole time, before sighing. “All will be forgiven if you give us some of those fruit tarts you made yesterday.”

You looked at him, shocked.

“I thought you said you didn't spy on me!”

“I wasn't spying, I just happened to be foraging by the window, and smelled something amazing. It was all incidental.”

“There's sugar in the crust. Won’t your tummy get upset?”

He just smiled. Rena laughed. “He named his price. For offending us, we must get fruit tarts.”

Finally feeling better, the three of you walked(they let you walk!!!) Back to your home. You served them up your tarts, when finally the questions started coming about you. Why did you move here? Do you have any siblings? What were you like as a child?

This went on until dinner time, at which point you decided to shoo your new friends away. “ I'll be back to do the flowers tomorrow. We… we will see what I can do.” You admitted. The two of them smiled at you, hugging you tight for a good three minutes. They always lingered, nuzzling your face and hair, as if they were getting a whiff of you. You could smell their own perfume and tried not to think too much. Their goodbyes always felt so intimate.

Rena decided to pepper your face in kisses before they left. Lyith just rolled his eyes at her. When they drew apart you felt empty, like some piece of you was going with them.

***

As always, Lyith picked you up that morning. This time, you made sure to bring a scarf and hat, alongside emergency snacks in your bag. Where he was taking you next was a little longer of a trip, a whole ten minutes to the usual six. That was a long time when you were hurtling through the air.

You were surprised to drop into a small crowd. There were ten Bee-men present besides Rena, who seemed to be communicating silently with them. The air was full of bee noises; humming, purring, the fluttering of wings. The air smelled amazingly fresh, floral and syrupy. It was an odd smell, but it seemed to put you at ease somehow. And maybe a bit peckish.

A Beeman a whole foot and a half taller then Rena fluttered towards you. They bowed, of which you awkwardly returned before they reached forward and took your hand gently. Lyith started,

“This is Elder Bisou. He is the eldest of our hive. He is showing you respect.”

Elder Bisou smiled at you. “Little Witch, I welcome you to our territory. My human is a bit… unused. Please receive our thanks for your efforts.” He took your hand and leaned down so that it met his temple. You could feel the rush of his magic, like your mind was a fish bowl and he was putting a gentle hand on the glass. You could feel his warmth, his deep gratitude through it.

Your back straightened and you felt water prick your eyelids. You gave him a slow nod, becoming acutely aware just how serious this whole situation actually was. Rena and Lyith had been dancing around it, but the Bee-men must be slowly starving to death. That was the only explanation for the depths of what you had felt.

“I will do my best.” Was all you could reply.

Lyith, acting as your translator, took you to each Bee-men he could and introduced you. It seemed that some of the elders, as well as some of those who had free time had come to watch the “little witch” work. Most took your hand gently, and sent you a ghost of what their emotions were. There was a sort of film around the emotions, a barrier of sorts. Whether this was on purpose so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed, or just how their telepathy worked, you couldn't tell.

You did your best to not let your nerves get to you as you dissected the sections of the field where you would be doing your experiments. You didn’t know how these particular flowers would take to your spell, so it was still best to be cautious. The bee-men looked on with interest.

You did your chants in a loud booming fashion, and channeled in as elegant a fashion as you could. Like always, the magic came, and the spell did its work. These flowers were different, like rainbow colored lavender. Rather than letting the magic gush through you, you let it gently trickle out, pacing yourself. When the deeds were done, you still felt sore, and you still held a headache in your temple, but there was no nausea, so growth!

Once you were done with your work, there was a large excited buzzing throughout the forest. There was clapping, dancing, stomping of feet, pumping of many hands, whoops from Rena and Lyith. One Bee, a worker named Aidenn held a small wooden instrument in his hands and started to play. This triggered a chorus from the Bee-men. There was a harmonizing among the crowd and they started to circle each other, laughing and dancing. A circle of flying, spinning Bee-men formed.

Rena grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto her shoulder before joining in the circle of the dance. You giggled as you spun, feeling the giddiness in the air like it was laughing gas. That same pressure filled your mind and a part of your heart started to soar. It was intimate, but not stifling and you loved feeling so close to everyone.

You lifted your hands and, feeling in the spirit, decided to hum along. At some point Rena had taken you in her arms and held you close as they continued to fly in a circle, spinning and perrying, and switching. It was similar to square dancing, where there was a pattern to it.

At one point, the tune changed and Lyith swooped down from above and grabbed you out of Rena’s arms. She snorted at him but let it happen, joining hands with another passing Bee-men. When Lyith gathered you in his arms, he cradled you as close as possible, surprising you. One hand was gripping firmly around your waist and the other crushing you to him. He landed on the ground, and the rest of the bee-men followed, causing something of a ballroom dance.

“You did wonderfully today.” He breathed in your ear, causing them to redden. You pulled yourself back a bit to see his face and he was looking at you with such pride and affection it felt like a weight crushing your chest. You moved your hands from his shoulders to reach his own hands. You were shaky, but you wanted to return his feelings somehow. His palms were soft.

This caused him to laugh, a purring sort of trill coming from his throat. You couldn’t help a silly grin form on your face.

“I’m glad you came to my garden.” Was all you could think to say.

He looked at you, with those big black eyes, then reached forward and kissed you on the lips. It was only a peck, but you could feel his joy through it.

Something complex within you, a mix of happiness, excitement, hope, all of your feelings rose up into your throat. Unable to find the words to express yourself, you took all of those big heavy emotions, wrapped them all up together and kissed him back, right there, in the middle of your makeshift dance floor.

When you pulled away Lyith looked shocked, his bottom lip hanging open. Adorable as usual.

Rena hollered from the otherside of the gathering, sending out a big whoop. There was laughter, buzzing and an echoing whoop from some of the younger bee-men. Elder Bisou made some clicking sounds, but the sides of his mouth were slightly upturned.

It occurred to you then that you were in the middle of a group of very telepathic monster people. Your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment and you pulled away from Lyith a bit. Your shoes suddenly became very interesting.

Lyith eventually turned your chin back up to face him. He held a small peaceful smile, before bumping his forehead to yours. He didn’t share his emotions but the affection was still there.

After you grew too tired to dance, you took a seat under a tree, munching on a granola bar. Another one of the Bee-men, a younger drone named Haven, made his way to sit next to you.

“I don’t know if it was mentioned, but honey production has picked up enormously since you agreed to help us. I haven’t felt this great in… well ever! Thank you little witch!”

“I’m not little, but thank you for saying so.” You were starting to get a bit lightheaded now, and not from the dancing. It was possible that some of the symptoms of mana sickness were surfacing a little late.

“You are strong! That is true! Even elder Bisou has said he hasn’t met a human or beastman with mana like yours!” Haven turned his voice down to a whisper, as if he was sharing a secret, “Your magic smells so much like flowers, really, its a huge blessing! In fact, I would eat you up if I could!” He laughed as if he had made a joke. He sighed and looked up dreamily at the sky. “Alas, I am saving myself for when we find our queen.” He wrapped his arms around himself, as if to fend off imaginary suitors.

You wrinkled your nose. “Queen? You don’t have a queen? Isn’t that super bad for bees, I mean bee-men?”

Heaven tilted his head at you, reminding you of Lyith.

“Of course. That's why we are all so small and weak.” You stared at him in shock. He put up his hands. “We are doing well though! It's been 20 years since our queen died but we are still here! Oh! There is a hive up north! Any day now, one of their queens' daughters might descend and bless us! Or.. Or we--”

“Little One! You seem like you're getting sick!” Rena Descended from above and put a hand to your forehead.

“You are far too warm! Haven, mind if I take her out of your wings?”

Heaven looked up at Rena, his face a mask of confusion. He eventually gave in though and stood up.

“I should check on Elder Bisou! He might need something!” His voice was flat, obviously fake, but he ran away- flew away with gusto.

Rena took your face into her hands, tilting your head back and forth. Your lightheadedness turned full on dizzy. Rena’s face screwed up in an annoyed expression.

“You overdid it. And after that whole speech about not knowing your limits too..” She gently put a hand on your back and picked you up princess style. You would have been embarrassed, if your brain was functioning properly. Instead your gaze fixed on Rena’s beautiful iridescent wings. The lights were so lovely and they helped ground you. Honestly, everything about Rena was lovely. Well, maybe lovely wasn’t the right word. She was rough around the edges. A tease and a know it all. But she doted on you so, it made you feel a bit overwhelmed. Your gaze shifted from her wings to her lovely nose, pretty sharp for a bee-men.

Rena started conversing with Lyith about you, pointing her jaw and humming. Huh. Rena was actually incredibly attractive. You had known that before. Maybe it was something about how dizzy everything was. The last time you had felt this way she had been kissing you, her textured tongue pushing nectar down your thoat-

“Little One”

Your mind immediately focused. She was using a demanding tone.

“Lyith will take you home. Next time, we will only do one spell at a time.” She leaned forward and placed her cool lips to the side of your mouth. Making you blush. Well your face was already heated so you would have blushed. “I will see you again soon. Rest.” And she was off.

You were in Lyith’s arms again. A place you were starting to get comfortable in. He stared at you for a moment, his lips pursed, then sighed loudly. He held your gaze for a moment.

“I do not like this habit you are forming. You will not get sick again, understand?”

You nodded at him, mind hazy. Sleepy. You were sleepy.

You didn’t register the fly home, only that the coolness felt nice. You were carried from the porch, into the living room, up the stairs, and laid on your bed. You were covered in warm, delicious blankets.

You never saw Lyith leave before you passed out. Probably because he tucked himself in right beside you, the cool air washing over both of you from the open bedroom window.

Part Four

#monster fucker #monster lover #monster #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #bee hybrid #bee hybrids #bee hybrid × reader #bee hybrids x reader #monster romance #bee monster #monster fluff #fluff

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thebroccolination · 1 month ago

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THAMEPO'S RELATIONSHIP (AS OF EPISODE 4)

Back when the teaser (made as an appeal to sponsors) aired in part two of GMMTV's 2024 showcase, and especially after the trailer (cut from the actual series) aired, I thought ThamePo looked like it would become one of the strongest series GMMTV has ever made.

So far, even though we're only four episodes in, it's well surpassing my expectations. Apparently, it's a passion project that the director had in the making for five years, waiting for the right casting to come along, so based on that alone, it's a series made with love. And I have a soft spot for passion projects. <3

Still, the top criterion I judge all series by is the quality of the writing, and since ThamePo's director is also a seasoned screenwriter who developed the script, this is one of the strongest aspects of the series so far.

Over the past four episodes, we've seen our protagonist's flaws (people-pleasing, projecting, temper) and strengths (resourcefulness, observational skill, cleverness), what he wanted (to return to the creative working world) and how it's changing (to reunite MARS). We've met the public version of Thame, the shallow version of Thame that Po misread, and the private version of Thame trying to make amends with his friends. We've met three of those friends (Jun, Dylan, and Pepper) and have hints about the fourth (Nano), and each friend we've met has given us more insight into the kind of person Thame is and what he's done to try and protect his group as the leader.

Since the main conflict of the story appears to be Thame being forced to choose between his band or his new boyfriend—

—Thame's relationship with Po has to move at quite a quick clip so he's emotionally invested enough in their relationship that it's a difficult choice. He's already extremely attached to his friends, so I'd argue one of the biggest challenges in the writing was having him fall in love with Po convincingly fast without it feeling forced by the hand of the screenwriter.

And daaamn has that been well-accomplished, in my opinion.

First, Po gets his Y/N moment.

It's established in the first episode that Thame saw Po at a fanmeeting once and remembered him because Po did something kind for someone when he didn't have to. Presumably because Thame's in a fairly cutthroat industry where people are constantly vying for his attention, maneuvering him like a chess piece, or flat-out ignoring him, that small act of kindness was probably one of the bright points of his day, week, or even month. Especially as things started falling apart with the other members.

In that same episode, we see Po projecting the heartbreak from his previous relationship onto Thame.

And in return, Thame—who spends most of the next episode docilely doing whatever he's told to do by the company—allows some of what he's hidden to show out of frustration presumably brought on by being so thoroughly misunderstood and chastised by a stranger he used to think well of and now suspects of being a sasaeng.

Because both characters are in such vulnerable places emotionally, it translates well to the narrative when they start to depend on one another.

On Po's end, his recent breakup has left him feeling foolish and exposed, taken advantage of by a man who refused to acknowledge Po's sacrifices or show any true appreciation for all the work Po did to see him succeed.

Meanwhile, Thame is alone in every way that matters.

His parents are neglectful,

his friends abandoned him,

and his boss is manipulating him.

At the start, Po is quite literally the only ally he has.

It's because Po kept at him to be honest, to be sincere, that Thame woke up and decided to fight for himself.

And because Thame is doing something for himself for a change, that's what wins back his closest friend Jun.

What I love about this whole narrative is that it's already established from Po's previous relationship that he's the kind of person to give himself entirely to a cause for someone else's benefit. He helped Earn to his own detriment, he picked up a small child so she could see, and he's risking his job to help Thame find happiness and peace.

So it's entirely in-character for him to, say, go through a whole room filled with boxes of rejected song lyrics trying to find one piece of paper that he had to tape back together. Only for it not to matter, because Thame mended fences with Dylan on his own.

I'd argue this is what makes Po think, Maybe I'm too emotionally involved in this. Especially after Jun has point-blank told him that Thame would never be interested in him that way.

We see the moment Po doubts his enthusiastic support of this whole project.

And it's clear that this could have been where it ended for Po.

Until Thame, observant and kind and the polar opposite of Earn, says exactly the right thing to him.

Because that was the major breaking point for Po in his relationship with Earn. He was made to feel disposable. Extraneous. Unnecessary. But Thame recognizes the work he's done, the effort he's put in. He may be reuniting the group for his own satisfaction, but he's not so selfish that he can let Po's contributions go unobserved and unappreciated.

Then, y'know. Thame talks to Po until he falls asleep—

—and serenades him in the morning.

And the thing is! Knowing all we know about Thame—that his parents don't seem to care about him, that he's been isolated from his friends, that he's been made helpless in his own career for so long after being manipulated into signing contracts that restrict his freedom—it makes sense for him to be the one pursuing Po this hard. Just as much as it makes sense for recently heartbroken Po to be interested and yet hesitant.

Setting all of this up in four episodes while covering the entire backstory of MARS and their gradual reunion is a feat of excellent writing. We have a reason to care about Thame and Po's relationship, because it's been clearly shown to us that they bring out the best in each other and that they're willing, even at this early stage, to take risks for each other. We've also got reason to care about MARS, because they seem to be more family to Thame than his own, and they're his current priority.

I'm genuinely thrilled to see such solid writing come from a GMMTV series because as I've said before, they seem more and more recently to chuck first drafts on an assembly line and just assume the fandom will watch anything regardless of the quality as long as certain khuujin are cast as the leads (which, y'know, isn't untrue).

While I enjoy some GMMTV QL series as mindless fluff to watch with friends, there are very few I'd say are written well. Apart from ThamePo, only five other series I've seen have what I'd consider well-executed scripts: Pluto (2024), Be My Favorite (2023), Dark Blue Kiss (2019), SOTUS S (2017), and SOTUS (2016). Sadly, I think Not Me (2022) was on track to be one of the best with its first half, but the production was infamously neglected with episodes cut by GMMTV at the last minute and the script deprived of major edits that left the second half almost shallow by comparison. (Of course, Not Me had a host of censorship issues as well, so we may never know how much that interfered with the quality. It's still an incredible series for its ambition and for Nuchy's directing, and I'll be mad every day of my reincarnation cycle that it didn't get the writing support it deserved.)

Otherwise, nearly every GMMTV series I've seen has at least one major basic storytelling flaw (no character arc, a sloppy resolution, unconvincing setup, weak characterization, excess filler, etc.), and they seem to be first drafts with very little depth. With that in mind, I hope to see ThamePo do well enough that it sends a message to GMMTV that they should focus more on the writing of their series. I think based on what we've seen in the first four episodes and in the trailer, the script quality is reliable, and ThamePo's relationship may be one of the best-written we've seen yet. <3

#thamepo #thame x po #thamepo the series #heart that skips a beat #oops i wrote a thesis again

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vampiriito · 4 days ago

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Summer was in shades of cool.. (JJ Maybank X shy! kook! reader) Chapter 5

A/n: Hey loves! fifth chapter, which somehow ended up also being angst! I'm so sad this story is almost coming to an end＞︿＜(that's if i don't decide to write more chapters.) But what i have rn, is roughly 3 chapters left. So yeah.. I'm working on a JJ x mermaid! reader, and the here comes the sun fic (part 2) though, you gotta check them out when i post them!

Summary: You know JJ isn't mean, he just likes to spend his time in shades of cool. You prove him wealth and a cushioned life doesn't necessarily mean happiness and that the two of you weren't as different as he thought.

For someone so shy and timid you sure were brave to skate around the town at night. It was your way of unwinding. You liked how free you felt, all alone with your earbuds in, and just skating around in endless circles. Especially when you didn't feel like dealing with your mother's nagging or your father's disappointed sighs and looks.

The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you glide over the smooth pavement, the soft hum of your skateboard the only sound in the quiet, sleeping town. Streetlights cast long shadows, their orange glow flickering softly as you pass beneath them. The streets are empty, save for the occasional parked car or the distant silhouette of a house with lights still on inside. You skate past closed storefronts, their dark windows reflecting the faint moonlight, and the faint clatter of your wheels echoes down the empty alleyways.

Everything feels still, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting. Your breath comes in clouds, visible in the chill of the night, and the cold wind sweeps through your hair as you push off harder, picking up speed. The town feels different at night—more yours, like a secret you’re keeping from everyone else. You weave through the streets, the familiar paths taking on a dreamlike quality in the quiet darkness, the only witness to your midnight ride.

As you round a corner, something makes you slow down—a figure, standing under one of the streetlights ahead. At first, you think it's just a shadow or a trick of the light, but then he shifts slightly, hands shoved into his pockets, and your heart skips.

It’s him. JJ. You haven't seen him for a few days, almost a week, since your last conversation when you gave him the picture of you, and you kept the one of him. He hasn’t noticed you yet now, lost in his own thoughts as he stands there, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight. You feel your pulse quicken, the smooth rhythm of your skating disrupted as your thoughts scatter. For a moment, you consider turning around, slipping away before he sees you, but your legs don’t move. The street is so still, and it feels like the space between you has suddenly shrunk, the distance closing with each heartbeat. You skate closer, slower now, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

JJ had been lost in thought, standing under the streetlight and staring absently at the ground in front of him. His mind was a mess, a tangled web of conflicting thoughts and feelings that he couldn't seem to untangle. He'd been avoiding you ever since you'd both given each other the pictures - that moment with you had felt so personal, so intimate, that he didn't know how to act around you now.

Not to mention the absolute shitshow of a night he managed to have.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of wheels rolling over the pavement. He looked up, and his heart stopped as he saw you skating closer.

As you came close to him, you eased your skateboard to a gentle stop by pressing your foot against the pavement. The familiar hum of wheels on concrete faded into a hushed silence as your heart began to quicken, the twilight deepening around you both. In the dim light, his features had been nothing more than vague silhouettes, but now—standing side by side—each detail was painfully clear.

Before you could even manage a soft greeting, your eyes were drawn to the silent story etched across his face. There were bruises scattered like dark constellations on his skin, his lip was painfully split, and a swollen bruise cradled his eye in a halo of sorrow, a small trail of blood drying up just above his lip from his nose. In that moment, your heart clenched with a mix of shock and tender concern. The raw evidence of his pain stirred something deep within you—a profound empathy that made you wish you could reach out and soothe the silent anguish behind those eyes.

Time seemed to slow as you absorbed every detail, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your worry. In his vulnerable state, you saw more than just physical marks; you saw the same little boy you remembered from 3rd grade staring back at you. And as the night pressed in around you, you felt an overwhelming urge to offer comfort, even as a subtle fear held you back—fear of drawing him further into a world of pain he might not want to share or revisit.

JJ felt your gaze on his face, taking in the bruises and cuts. He immediately looked away, hating the way you were probably looking at him. He felt exposed, like a raw nerve.

He tried to play it tough, forcing a casual tone. ''Don't look at me like that. It's nothing. Just a little scuffle, that's all."

Your brows furrowed into a small frown as you continued studying the injuries on his face. Each bruise and the split on his lip whispered stories of pain, stories you’d only heard in hushed conversations around town. You knew about his turbulent relationship with his dad, the kind of abuse that left scars both seen and unseen. Not from JJ directly, of course.

This wasn’t just the aftermath of a random scuffle. The marks on his face spoke of deliberate cruelty, as if someone had set out to hurt him, to silence his ability to fight back. The thought that he might have been too shocked or too restrained to defend himself filled you with a cold dread. It was as though each injury was a small echo of a larger, unspoken terror—a terror that clutched at your heart and made you fear for his well-being.

JJ noticed the way your frown only seemed to deepen the more you took in his injuries. He could see the concern in your eyes, and it both touched and frustrated him. Part of him appreciated that you seemed to care, but another part just wanted you to stop looking at him like he was some helpless victim. He shifted awkwardly, trying to find the words to downplay the situation.

"Seriously, it's nothing. My old man was just being his usual charming self, that's all."

Now your brows shot up in surprise. Not because you didn't know about his dad and his tendencies. But because he was telling you this so directly. So bluntly.

"This was your dad?" you asked quietly, stepping off the skateboard fully now.

JJ nodded reluctantly and reached up brush a finger over the dried up trail of blood trickled from his nose, his eyes darting away as if he could escape the truth by simply not meeting your gaze. He despised that he had let his guard down enough to admit that his dad was the one who had marred his face. "Yeah. My old man had a little too much to drink tonight. Things got outta hand. It happens," he said, his voice attempting a casual indifference that barely masked the underlying anguish.

He tried to make it sound like just another night in the Maybank household—a familiar script of abuse and neglect, spun so often that it almost felt routine. But behind his nonchalant tone lay a truth he couldn’t hide: each incident was a step deeper into a spiral of escalating abuse, unrelenting drinking, and seething anger. In that moment, every word he uttered carried the weight of a painful reality he wished he could forget, yet it clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake off.

"...Why are you on the street then?" you asked once again, although your voice was quiet, you weren't as flustered as you usually were when you spoke to JJ.

JJ finally looked at you, surprised by the directness of your question. He wasn't used to anyone asking him such things so bluntly.

"What do you mean, 'why am I on the street'? Where else am I supposed to be?" He tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice. He wasn't used to revealing so much about himself like this, especially to a kook.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You didn't realize how weird the question sounded. You should've just asked him if he had anywhere to sleep. But the words died in your throat. "No i mean.. I'm sorry.. i mean why aren't you at your friends' house..? Why are you out here?"

JJ huffed again, still feeling on edge. He couldn't tell you the real reason why he wasn't at one of his friend's houses right now - he didn't want to burden anyone else with his personal problems. So he just lied, keeping his voice casual and indifferent.

"I don't know, I just didn't feel like crashing at anyone's place, alright? I like being alone. I get more freedom when I'm sleeping on the street than if I were at someone's house."

"You're gonna freeze. Plus, sleeping on a bench really sucks," you stated simply, your tone laced with a soft, almost tender exasperation. Your expression soured in a way that was both peculiar and genuine, hinting at the concern beneath the blunt words.

JJ felt a pang of irritation at your statement. Yeah, he knew that sleeping on a bench sucked, trust him, he was well aware of it. But he didn't need you reminding him of that.

"Yeah, well, what choice do I have, genius? I can't exactly afford a hotel room. Not all of us are rich kooks, you know."

"…I was gonna say you can crash at mine—you don't have to sleep out here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped out after a few long moments of silence, following his sharp snap at you. There was a tender vulnerability in your tone, as if each syllable was a small promise of safety amid the chaos. You hoped that by offering your place, you could shield him, even just a little, from the cold and harshness of the night.

JJ's jaw dropped at your unexpected offer, his irritation immediately forgotten. He looked at you, eyes wide, trying to tell if you were being serious. The idea of crashing at your place seemed too good to be true. No way you actually wanted him to stay over at your house. "Wait, you're joking, right? You want me to...stay at your place?"

"Yeah... i mean i don't mind. If it's not weird for you of course... given you barely know me." you mumbled awkwardly, scrathing the back of your neck.

The idea of staying at your house was definitely weird for JJ. It would be his first time ever stepping foot inside a kook's home, for one. But more than anything, it was the thought of being in a private space with you that made him feel anxious and excited at the same time. He took a moment to collect himself before responding.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything..."

You bit your lip, torn between respecting his pride and prejudice that you knew he had towards kooks, and wanting to help him. "No... I uh... I have my own room. It's not gonna be a problem. You can eat and take a bath if you want and I can help you with your uh... bruises."

You tried to force a smile, bending down to grab your skateboard and holding it under your armpit. The tension hung in the air, thick and unspoken.

JJ's chest tightened at your offer to help take care of his injuries. No one had ever really cared about him in that way before, and the thought of you treating his wounds made his heart thump against his ribcage. He tried to keep his voice casual and nonchalant, but he couldn't hide the hint of vulnerability in his tone. "Yeah? You're gonna play nurse for me?"

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you would've just skated away back home alone. You cared for JJ, more than you would admit to anyone. 8 years of being in love with him secretly would do that to you.

You nodded, your smile turning genuine and sheepish, your free hand reaching up to adjust your glasses.

JJ felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your genuine smile, his throat constricting at the thought that he was the cause of it. He took a small step closer to you, feeling the tension building between you both.

"Well, I ain't gonna turn down an offer like that." He gave you a small, crooked smile in return, the first genuine smile he'd given since you spotted him under the street light.

The two of you began walking, your skateboard still tucked under your arm. JJ kept sneaking glances at you, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be staying the night at your house. It was a strange and unexpected turn of events, one that he had never thought possible just a few days ago.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, JJ spoke up, his tone curious and a little playful. "So, is it just you at your place? Or do you have, like, parents and siblings and stuff?"

"Yes... I have a sister and, uh... well, parents." you said, furrowing your brows slightly but smiling as you walked down the street. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. The streetlights cast a warm, golden glow over the pavement, and the sound of distant laughter and music from nearby homes added a comforting backdrop to your walk.

The journey to your place wasn't long, just about 15 minutes at most, giving you both enough time to enjoy the quiet company and the gentle rhythm of your steps. As you walked, you couldn't help but glance over at JJ, hoping the darkness concealed the concern in your eyes.

JJ nodded, not really surprised that you had a normal and functional family. He had always suspected it, even before you gave him the picture of you. There was something about you that screamed 'normal suburban girl', probably the fact that you were a kook after all.

As you walked, JJ studied the neighborhood surroundings, taking in the big, fancy houses that littered the street. It was a stark contrast to his own home and his neighborhood, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and bitterness. The tall imposing windows, the perfectly manicured lawns and massive pools with houses perfectly painted, all of them were the complete opposite to the trailer park scenery he had the ill-fated chance of waking up to.

"Must be nice, having functional parents and a nice house."

He tried to make his voice nonchalant and joking, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of bitterness in his tone. He knew it wasn't right to take his own issues out on you, especially since you had been nothing but kind to him so far. But old patterns were hard to break.

"The nice house is... good, although it doesn’t make up for the angry man living in it. All i wanna say is that i know how weird dads can get." you looked down, your voice shy and hesitant.

JJ's heart twinged in pain at the mention of angry dads. He could relate to that all too well. He'd lived with an angry dad for as long as he can remember, and the memories were not pleasant.

He was surprised that you would admit something like that to him. He'd always figured you were some rich girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. But clearly, there was more to you than he thought.

He glanced over at you, studying your face as you continued walking. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you, to comfort and reassure you in some way - as if he didn't have a busted lip and bruised face of his own. Instead, he just cleared his throat and spoke as casually and jokingly as he could. "Yeah, angry dicks seem to be pretty universal, huh?"

"Yeah... I don't want my kids to have an angry father," you chuckled dryly, the laugh more a reflex than genuine amusement. The situation wasn't funny at all, but the awkwardness bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in the form of an uncomfortable giggle.

JJ's heart skipped another beat at your unexpected mention of kids. The thought of you having a family of your own - a future husband and children - made him feel more bothered than he cared to admit. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest and responded in his typical sarcastic tone. "Oh, so you already got some future hubby picked out?"

"No. I don't even speak to guys... you know how shy and timid i get..." you frowned with a smile on your face, shaking your head.

JJ couldn't help but chuckle softly at your response. He knew all too well about your shyness and how you seemed to freeze up around people, especially guys. It was just one of the many quirks about you that he had picked up on over the years, despite never actually talking to you. "Yeah, I've noticed. You get all tongue-tied and red in the face. It's kind of cute, actually."

The second he said it, JJ mentally cursed himself. He had meant it as a lighthearted tease, but the word 'cute' had just slipped out before he could stop it. He quickly tried to cover up his blunder with a nonchalant, sarcastic tone.

"I mean, in a dorky kind of way obviously."

You let out a huff of laughter, turning your head to look forward as you walked, nearing your house. You felt yourself blush at his words, despite the fact that he covered them up with a teasing comment.

JJ watched as your face turned a light pink, the rosy color spreading across your cheeks. He felt a weird sense of satisfaction at the realization that he had caused that reaction in you. But he quickly pushed that thought aside, reminding himself that he was just here for a place to crash, nothing more.

As you continued walking, JJ glanced around the posh, quiet neighborhood.

"You know, you live in a pretty fancy area. I feel like I'm in some snobby billionaire's vacation home or something."

"All of these people living here are assholes." you stated bluntly, glancing around too.

JJ couldn't help but bark out a surprised laugh at your unexpected bluntness. He had never expected such language to come out of your mouth. "Ouch. Don't hold back, tell us how you really feel."

He smirked, still chuckling as he glanced around at the immaculate, expensive-looking homes surrounding them.

As you neared your house, JJ couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't ignore the thrill of the idea that he was about to step inside a kook's home for the first time in his life, aside from the house parties.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant as he spoke. "This your place, huh?"

"Mhm.." you nodded, humming as you approached the big gates of your house. You walked towards the security booth, asking the man inside to let you in, explaining to him that JJ was your friend and that your parents should just not hear about this, not wanting to have the talk with you mom yet.

JJ followed you silently, trying to appear unfazed and nonchalant. But deep down, he was still feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable being in this wealthy neighborhood.

He watched as you spoke to the man in the booth, explaining that he was your friend and that your parents shouldn't know about his presence. JJ could only grimace at the thought of your parents finding out that you were bringing a Pogue - and a bruised and beaten up one at that - into their pristine kook house.

As the gates clicked open and you both walked through the opening, JJ glanced around the expansive grounds of your property. It was a far cry from the small, run-down house and yard he lived in. This place looked more like a luxurious resort than a home.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation, looking at you with a mix of awe and envy. "Damn. You really weren't kidding about your place being fancy."

You gave a small, shy smile, feeling a bit self-conscious as you led him up the stone path. The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out on either side, dotted with vibrant flowerbeds and neatly trimmed hedges. The soft glow of landscape lighting illuminated the walkway, adding an air of sophistication to the already impressive scene.

"Yeah, it's... something," you said, your voice hesitant. "But like I said earlier, a nice house doesn't make up for everything."

JJ nodded, his gaze sweeping over the expansive grounds before settling back on you. "I get that," he replied, his tone sincere. "Still, it's pretty amazing. I've never seen anything like this up close."

"It's just a house.." you laughed awkwardly. You neared your big front doors, digging through the pocket of your jeans to retrieve your keys.

JJ rolled his eyes at your nonchalant response. "Yeah, right. A house that looks like it could fit my entire house inside of it."

He watched as you took out your keys, realizing with a pang of panic that he was about to enter your house. He quickly pushed down the feeling of nervousness building in his chest and tried to make a joke instead. "You sure your parents aren't gonna see me and freak out?"

"I don't even think they're home.. and if they are, they're asleep already." you stated after unlocking your front door, grabbing your board and stepping inside. Opening the door, you ushered him inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you both. The foyer was elegantly decorated, with a grand staircase leading up to the second floor and tasteful artwork adorning the walls. JJ looked around, taking in the high ceilings and polished wood floors.

JJ followed you inside, his combat boots squeaking uncomfortably against the smooth, hardwood floors. The inside of your house looked just as impressive as the outside, with elegant furniture and expensive-looking decorations that could probably serve as a down-payment for his shitty house. JJ couldn't help but feel a little out of place, like a stray among the perfect, polished furniture.

He tried to act casual, but he couldn't help but glance around nervously, waiting for your parents to appear and throw him out on his ass.

JJ was surprised by the fact that your house was completely silent and dark, as if nobody was in. He had been half-expecting a posh version of his own home with angry, yelling adults and slamming doors. "Your parents are seriously asleep already? Don't they care that you're out this late?"

You shook your head. Your parents really didn't care that much. You had learned to take care of yourself when they weren't home. Which was usually all the time. Instant meals and take out became your best friend once you passed the age of 14. It was like you parents just- assumed you'll hold your own. And you did. Mostly thanks to Maisy. You urged him towards the stairs walking up the steps quietly.

JJ followed you up the stairs, still feeling out of place and on edge in the immaculate surroundings. He knew he was probably going to look like a total mess once he saw himself in the mirror, but he didn't dare ask to take a shower yet.

He glanced around as he walked, trying to mentally note the layout of your house in case he ever needed to escape quickly.

As you reached the top of the stairs, JJ looked around, expecting to see more of the posh and flawless décor. But to his surprise, the hallway upstairs was dimly lit and all the doors had been closed.

He followed you down the hallway towards your room, feeling a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He had never been in a kook girl's room before, and he couldn't help but wonder what yours would look like.

As you both finally reach your door you can't help but feel a bit nervous knowing your room was the only one in this house which was this messy. Once you stepped inside a warm, golden glow wraps around you, coming from the fairy lights strung across the walls like constellations. The soft light bounced off the pale pink walls, casting delicate shadows on the worn wood floors.

Photographs covered nearly every surface—polaroids tacked to the walls along with various movie and bad posters, black-and-white prints clipped to twine that stretches above your bed like a gallery of memories. Each picture seemed to hold a story: some of you skating down streets at sunset, others of eerie, abandoned places that seem pulled from a horror film, their dark windows and empty halls almost breathing, Maisy appearing in some of your shots.

The bed is a mess of mismatched blankets and soft pillows, inviting in a way that feels casual and lived-in, like you'd spent countless late nights curled up there, editing photos or watching horror movies that make the shadows in the room seem to move. On the floor, there’s a skateboard deck leaning against a stack of books, some dog-eared horror novels with spines cracked from use. The air smells faintly of vanilla and something else, maybe the remnants of a candle long burned out to mask the cigarette smell lingering.

JJ was stunned into silence as he stepped into your room, taking in the warm, golden glow of the fairy lights and the photos that covered every surface, the posters scattered over the light pink walls. He was surprised to have seen some of the movies himself, most of them horror flicks. It was unlike anything he had seen before - a stark contrast to his own bare, messy room with its old, fading wallpaper and worn flooring.

He looked at the mess of blankets, pillows and plushies on your bed, feeling a sudden urge to flop down on them, as if they would somehow soothe the tension in his chest. But he knew better than to do that, so he just stood there awkwardly, taking in his new surroundings.

"I'm sorry for the mess.. I'm usually a clean person... for 1 week after i clean. And then it goes back to this.." you mumbled awkwardly, dropping your board on the floor next to your door.

JJ chuckled softly, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at the pile of clothes and books piled up in one corner of the room. "Nah don't worry about it, it's not that bad. Definitely cleaner than my room at least."

He gestured towards the mess. He didn't say it, but he actually found your room endearing. It reminded him of himself. He leaned up against the wall by your door, trying to appear casual and nonchalant as his eyes roamed over the photos on your wall. He recognized a few of the places you had captured on camera – old, abandoned barns and forgotten warehouses that he had explored with John B and Pope before.

"You like taking pictures, huh?" he asked, his voice a little gentler than usual.

"Wasn't that obvious already?" You asked gently a soft chuckle following your question, watching him closely as he studied your room. You felt a bit anxious and nervous given the state your room was in at the moment. And maybe the fact that the boy you were in love with since you were nine was currently in it. It felt almost unreal. He looked more beautiful under the soft glow of your fairy lights, his eyes sparkling like a little kid's despite the injuries scattered across his pretty face. That reminded you, you were gonna help him out with them.

JJ chuckled softly as your response, his gaze lingering on the photos on the wall for a moment before switching back to you. He couldn't help but notice the way you were watching him, with a hint of nervousness and anxiety.

He tried to act nonchalant, as if he didn't care that he was standing in the middle of a kook girl's room, surrounded by evidence of how little the two of you had in common. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?

He felt a strange fluttering in his chest as your eyes met, the soft glow of the fairy lights making your face look almost angelic. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before dropping to the ground, trying to push down the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

Trying to distract himself, he spoke up again.

"So you like horror movies, huh? Explains why you're not scared of me even when I'm beat up like this."

"You don't look scary..." you spoke softly, shifting on your feet nervously your gaze also dropping to the ground nervously.

JJ chuckled dryly, running a hand through his messy hair. He was well aware of how he must look like right now, a mess of injuries and bruises, his face battered and swollen. Yet you still seemed unfazed by his appearance, your words completely honest and sincere.

He found himself unable to meet your gaze, feeling another flutter in his chest at your unexpected softness. He cleared his throat awkwardly, not used to being spoken to so kindly.

"Yeah, well I can assure you most people find me pretty scary."

"It's okay.." you reassured him, although you didn't know what for. He seemed tense, but you would be too if your father would treat you like that. And then you would have to wander the streets alone all beat up.

JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words. He wasn't used to being reassured like this, especially not by someone like you. Most people either avoided him or thought he was some kind of criminal.

He tried to force a smirk, but it came out weak and unconvincing. He felt a strange sense of vulnerability, standing in your cozy, feminine room while he was covered in bruises. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to sit down, to rest for once.

JJ glanced around the room, wondering if it would be rude to just sit down on your bed. Finally, he gave in to the urge, his legs aching and tired from everything that had happened. He gingerly lowered himself down onto your bed, wincing slightly as he felt the soft mattress sink beneath his weight.

You stepped forward nervously, as if you were in his room and not the other the way around, stopping in front of him. You studied his injuries, trying to gauge the severity of them and to know what to do to treat them. You wanted to give him a hug before that, he looked like he needed it, but you weren't sure if he would be okay with that.

You had always wondered what it would be like to hug JJ. He was tall, taller than you, and well... very fit for a 17 year old. You imagined he'd give good hugs if given the chance. But he didn't seem like the guy who would just hug someone, or like physical touch like that. Especially in the state he was in at the moment.

JJ felt your gaze on him as he sat on the edge of your bed, his muscles tensing up involuntarily. He tried to act relaxed, but he couldn't help the feeling of being scrutinized, your eyes roaming over his body and taking in his injuries. He had to fight the urge to snap at you, to tell you that he was fine and didn't need your help.

But there was something in your eyes that made him hold his tongue. It was a look of concern, almost affection, and he wasn't used to seeing it from anyone, especially not a kook.

He shifted awkwardly as you stood in front of him, feeling a flutter in his chest as you looked at him with such concern in your eyes. He could see the wheels turning in your head, trying to figure out how to help him.

"I didn't come here for a pity party, you know." he muttered, trying to maintain his usual tough persona, but his voice sounded almost vulnerable in the soft glow of the room.

Your brows shot up in embarrassment and awkwardness, you didn't want him to think you were pitying him. Just merely concerned from a place of love. But he didn't know that of course. "I'm sorry... I'm just..- worried. I never had to treat injuries this bad."

JJ felt a pang of guilt as he saw the look on your face, realizing that he had sounded harsh and defensive. He gritted his teeth, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and frustration. He was used to hiding his pain and brushing off his injuries as if they were nothing. It made him feel weak and vulnerable to admit that he needed help. Like admitting that would make whatever he was going through more real. Reason why he didn't like to burden his best friends with it too much.

He let out a slow breath, trying to soften his tone.

"It's not like it's the first time I got beat up. I can handle it."

"Were you seriously just gonna wonder around until the morning..?" you asked in an almost sad and concerned tone, still standing in front of him awkwardly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses.

JJ glanced up at you, taking in your sad and concerned expression. He had been planning on just wandering around, or crashing on the beach until morning. But in the moment, he couldn't bring himself to admit that. He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he accidentally jostled one of his bruised ribs. He avoided your gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, do I?"

He tried to sound nonchalant and tough, as usual, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He was used to spending nights alone on the beach, but the thought of spending another night out there, battered and bruised, suddenly felt very cold and lonely.

"That's gotta feel lonely at some point." you stated simply as if reading his thoughts, stepping a little closer shyly, still studying his face intently.

JJ tensed up as you stepped closer, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. He wasn't used to people being this close to him, especially not in such a vulnerable state. But there was something about the genuine concern on your face that made him feel a strange mixture of comfort and frustration.

He tried to brush off your words, as usual. "I'm used to being alone. I don't need anyone's help, especially not a kooks."

"Why is it always about kooks and pogues?" you asked, your brows furrowing in curiosity and something like a hesitant irritation.

JJ couldn't help but roll his eyes at your question.

"Oh come on, don't act like you don't know. It's always been that way. Kooks think they're better than pogues, looking down on us like we're nothing. We're two completely different worlds."

"I never looked down on anyone. If anything it had always been the other way around." you spoke softly, your expression going back to its normalcy, the concern still etched between your features gently.

JJ was taken aback by your words, his tough facade faltering for a moment as he heard the genuine hurt in your voice.

He wasn't used to people speaking to him like this, like they actually cared.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his usual confidence wavering slightly. "Maybe not you, but most kooks are the same. They think they're better than us, just because they have money and power."

"Yeah well... you're in my room. Not someone else's. " you mumbled, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

JJ looked up at you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your expression. There was no trace of judgement or anything like that, only genuine concern and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite identify.

He suddenly realized how close you were standing to him, so close that he could see the way your eyelashes curved downwards as you looked at him. He suddenly felt a flutter in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that he tried to ignore.

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he spoke.

"Yeah, well, this doesn't change anything. You're still a kook."

His voice came out harsher than he intended, a defensive response to the strange feeling he was experiencing.

Your brows scrunched up almost imperceptibly at his harsh tone, a pang of sadness shooting through you. Your eyes darted across his face nervously, regretting the decision to bring him here, given he seemed to think you pitied him and just wanted to flaunt your rich and snobbish life style. You suddenly felt frozen and like you made things awkward, for no apparent reason, going silent.

JJ watched as your expression changed, and he realized he had messed up. He hadn't meant to hurt your feelings, but his defensive instincts had taken over. He didn't understand why it bothered him so much. You were a kook and he was a pogue. That was just the way things were. There was no room for feelings or anything like that.

But there was something about the way you looked at him that made him feel guilty for being so rude. He tried to backtrack.

"Look... I didn't mean it like that. It's just-"

He cut himself off, realizing that he had no idea what to say. He wasn't used to dealing with his feelings, especially not when it came to a kook girl with the softest eyes he'd ever seen.

He shifted on the bed, feeling more vulnerable and uncomfortable than ever, his bruised ribs protesting at the movement.

You took a small step back, thinking it would be better at the moment. You didn't want to cross any boundaries or make him more hostile than he already was. You were supposed to help him out, not make things worse for him. But somehow now it felt weird, tense. You didn't wan that.

You expression stayed the same, but you tried to push down the feeling of sadness and awkwardness in your stomach, fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie nervously as you tried to mutter a word or something, but the words were stuck in your throat.

JJ noticed your step back, feeling a pang of something in his chest at the distance between you two. He didn't like it, for some reason. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer, to close the gap between you. He watched as you fidgeted with your hoodie strings, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He could tell that he had hurt your feelings, and it made him feel like a jerk.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the strange, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside him. He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing as it brushed against a particularly painful bruise. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just not used to people being so..."

He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He wasn't used to people being so... what? Caring? Nice? Kind?

He looked up at you, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment before he quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

You wanted to step close again, reach in your nightstand drawer and help him with his injuries but you were frozen for some reason. You didn't know what to do, your eyes meeting for a moment, before you both looked away, an awkward and gnawing feeling settling in your chest.

JJ shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't hurt. Every inch of his body seemed to ache, and his head was spinning from exhaustion. He looked up at you, still standing awkwardly a few steps away from him. He could tell that you wanted to do something, perhaps help him with his injuries, but you were holding back.

The urge to reach out and grab your hand, to pull you closer and make the aching in his chest go away, grew stronger by the second. He felt the silence in the room like a heavy weight, the only sound being his own pained breathing. He couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to break the tension, to ease the atmosphere.

His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke."Hey... come here."

You were surprised by his gentle tone, and the hint of vulnerability in his voice. It was strange, hearing JJ being so soft and... well, not tough for a change.

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling unsure and awkward from before. But then you heard the slight pleading in his voice, and any resistance you had crumbled like a house of cards. You slowly stepped closer, closer until you were standing right in front of him again.

JJ tilted his head back, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. He could feel the warmth radiating off your body, and a hint of your scent - strawberries and vanilla - filled his nostrils.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He felt strangely exposed and vulnerable, sitting on the edge of your bed while you stood right next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. And he did, so badly.

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you into his lap, to bury his face in your neck and forget about everything else for a moment. But he held back, knowing that it would probably scare you away.

He cleared his throat, trying to control the strange, unfamiliar emotions surging through him.

"I... uhm... you were gonna help me with my injuries, weren't you?"

"Yes..." you muttered weakly, widening your eyes as you realized you were just standing there like a dumbass. You dropped to your knees to rummage through your bottom drawer, looking for your first aid kit and a bottle of painkillers, anxiously.

JJ watched as you knelt down in front of him, feeling yet another flutter in his chest. He wasn't used to people putting in so much effort to help him, especially not a kook.

He couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked on your knees, rummaging through the drawer, your brow furrowed in concentration.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers through your hair, to tilt your chin up and make you look at him. But he knew he shouldn't. He had already messed up enough.

He tried to distract himself from his thoughts by looking around your room, taking in the feminine decorations and makeup scattered on your vanity; your soft colored curtains.

He couldn't help but feel even more out of place, more like a dark spot in the middle of a pristine, beautiful room. He was dirty and battered, and you were soft and sweet, like a porcelain doll.

He suddenly realized how ridiculous it was, him sitting on the edge of your bed, beaten up and bruised, while you knelt on the ground, diligently searching for supplies to treat his injuries.

He felt a new surge of guilt wash over him. He shouldn't be here, in your personal space, in your room and on your bed. He should be out on the street, alone and miserable, like he always was.

He suddenly wanted to leave, to spare you the troubles of dealing with a pogue like him, but he couldn't move. The pain in his ribs and the exhaustion were keeping him there, stuck in this moment of unfamiliar vulnerability and softness.

You had finally found the goddamned aid kit, after looking for it anxiously, grabbing a half empty pain killer bottle that you used regularly and standing up and holding it awkwardly, "you think there's any internal injuries we should worry about?" you broke the silence softly, sitting down on your bed next to him, your brows furrowing as though you were trying to see through him for the injuries for yourself.

JJ tensed up briefly as you sat down next to him, the sudden proximity making his heart race. He tried to ignore the way he felt and focus on your question.

He gingerly prodded his ribs with his fingers, wincing a little as he touched a particularly tender spot. "I don't think so. Just a bunch of bruised ribs, nothing serious."

"Bruised ribs are still bad." you stated with a determined look on your face, "what about your chest? does it hurt?" you asked softly, looking up to meet his eyes.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as he met your gaze, the seriousness and concern in your eyes making his chest ache in a different way than before.

He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart, and nodded slightly.

"A little. Mostly my ribs, though. It hurts to breathe and move."

Your brows scrunched up a bit in concern and panic at his words. For all you could know, his ribs could be cracked or even broken and he could be downplaying it, "oh my god.. they could be cracked you know? i dunno what to do about that..." you muttered the last part to yourself, your panic growing.

At the sound of your panic, JJ's tough demeanor slipped just a fraction. He could see the worry and concern etched in every line of your face, and strangely, it made his heart feel warm.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, his voice softer than usual. "It's not that bad. I've had worse. I'm tough, remember?" He forced a cocky smile, trying to reassure you, even though his ribs were protesting with every breath he took.

You shook your head in dismissal, pursing your lips together as your concern and panic started to grow. You were a 17 year old with no medical experience aside from treating a couple of injuries from skating. You didn't even know how to figure out if his ribs were fine and the thought scared you, "listen.. you need to press gently and see if you can feel anything weird aside from the pain.." you spoke, your brows furrowed as you tried to keep your voice steady, to conceal just how scared you were. Scaring him wasn't exactly the way to go about it. Nurses didn't do that. What the fuck were you saying? you were no nurse..

JJ's smile faded as he recognized the genuine worry in your eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for downplaying his injuries, knowing full well that it was making you even more anxious.

He sighed and nodded, lifting up his shirt to gently press his hands against his bruised ribs. He winced at the pain, his stomach muscles tensing up as he carefully felt around. "It hurts, but... I don't think anything's broken."

You grimace as his breathing hitched, your eyes studying the big bruise on his rib under his arm. It looked gnarly, truly like something done with malice, "are you sure? broken ribs can affect your lungs... you need to tell me if they're broken."

JJ let out a soft grunt as he prodded his bruised ribs. He could feel your eyes on him, studying the bruise with a mixture of concern and fascination.

He winced again as he applied slightly more pressure, feeling a sharp pain shooting through his chest. "I don't know... It hurts like hell, but I don't think it's broken. I've had broken ribs before, and it doesn't feel the same."

Your expression soured when he told you that he had broken ribs before. The thought saddened you, in a way you've never been before. Your eyes met, leaving the dark purple and blue ish bruise, a hint of the sadness and care seeping through, "..okay. I'll give you pain killers and you can take a warm shower after I'm done, okay?

JJ was taken aback by your sadness and concern. It was an emotion he wasn't used to seeing directed at him, especially from a kook. He tried to push down the unfamiliar feeling that welled up inside him, the feeling that he didn't want to see you sad.

He nodded slowly, still feeling vulnerable and exposed under your gaze. The thought of a warm shower sounded heavenly after the long, exhausting day he had just had. "Okay. That sounds good."

You fidgeted with the first aid kit contents, your fingers trembling slightly as you grabbed a clean cloth. You gently dabbed at the cut on JJ's cheek, your concentration evident in the furrow of your brows. As you applied the antiseptic, you winced in sympathy, knowing the sting it must be causing him. The look of discomfort on his face mirrored your own, and your concentrated expression melted into a grimace, as if you were the one in pain.

JJ couldn't help but watch you as you cleaned and treated his wounds. Your gentle touch and focused expression somehow made his heart skip a beat, even though he was in pain. He winced as the antiseptic stung his cuts, biting his lip to suppress a hiss of pain.

"Damn, that stings..." he muttered through clenched teeth.

You locked eyes, mumbling softly, "sorry.. i don't want the cuts to get infected.." you scooted a little closer to inspect the injuries more closely.

He had an even more gnarly bruise on his cheek bone than the one on his ribs if that was possible. It looked like he had been slapped pretty hard across the face, or punched with some sort of ring on the attacker's knuckle. The thought made your stomach churn, the cut on his lip was probably the force of the slap splitting the soft flesh of his lips.

JJ shifted slightly, feeling a little self-conscious under your scrutiny. He knew he was bruised and battered, and the way you were looking at him made him feel more exposed and vulnerable than he ever had before.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But the memories of the fight, and the feeling of your soft, warm skin so close to his, were making it difficult to focus. He couldn't help but notice the concern etched on your face, the way your eyes darkened as you looked at his bruised cheek. He suddenly longed to reach out and take your hand, to pull you closer and feel the comfort of your touch.

But he didn't. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was invading your space, that he was bringing his pain and trouble into your perfect world. He didn't belong in your bright, beautiful room, with its soft colors and warm vibes. He was a dark stain, a reminder of the ugly world outside your door.

He tried to maintain his composure, to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "It looks worse than it feels."

"I doubt that." you responded simply, stashing the antiseptic and cloths back in the first aid kit, adjusting your glasses gently. You looked back at him your gaze softening as you grabbed a band-aid. You placed it carefully over the cut on his cheekbone, puling back slightly to inspect it. "you know, i didn't bring you here to try and shame you or anything... i genuinely wanted to help."

JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words and at the surprising softness which you used to place the band-aid over his cut, a soft flutter that he wasn't used to feeling. He tried to hide it with sarcasm, his usual shield against vulnerability.

"Oh really? I thought you just brought me here because you had some sort of kink for battered and bruised guys."

He instantly regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, realizing how crude and harsh they sounded. He was used to using humor and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, but somehow, with you, it didn't feel right.

He looked up at you, wincing internally as he waited for your reaction.

Your brows furrowed at his slightly sharp and crude words, pursing your lips together as you folded your hands in your lap, "you're funny... usually."

JJ mentally berated himself for his sarcastic comment. He hadn't meant to sound rude; it had just come out, a reflex born of years of hiding behind humor.

He saw the subtle frown on your face and felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to upset you, especially not after you had been so kind and caring. He felt a strange urge to wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a smile. "I'm sorry. That was a poor attempt at humor. I didn't mean to be rude," he said, his voice softer and laced with a hint of genuine apology.

"It's okay." you mumbled, your expression softening. You knew how on edge he probably was, given the day he probably had. "It was kind of funny anyway.." you smiled slightly, letting out a huff of laughter.

JJ felt a small surge of relief at the sound of your laughter. It was a soft, gentle sound, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds. He found himself yearning to hear it again, to make you laugh more often. As he found himself when talking to you. It was a reaction his brain had once he heard you laugh and saw the smile on your face.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest as he looked at you, his usual tough demeanor softened by the moment between you two.

He managed a small smile in return, his voice quieter than usual. "Thanks for laughing at my crappy jokes."

This would be the moment in movies where the girl would kiss or hug the boy and they would stare at each other with looks full of love. He was so beautiful, even battered and bruised, that he deserved the look anyway. You wondered internally how something so pretty and angelic got such a shitty deal in life. It was unfair. "well i love shitty humor." you mumbled gently, looking down and then back at him with a small amused smile.

JJ chuckled softly at your words, his heart thudding in his chest. He hadn't expected you to banter back, and he certainly hadn't expected you to say you love shitty humor. No one had ever said that to him before. He tried to tamp down the fluttering feeling in his stomach, the one that seemed to be getting stronger every time he looked at you.

"Guess I'm your guy then," he replied with a smirk, trying to keep it cool on the outside, while on the inside, he was anything but.

'You really are.' you chuckled internally, your expression softening even more as you let out another quiet laugh at his self deprecating comment.

JJ was mesmerized by the sound of your laughter. It was like a soothing balm for his battered soul. He could listen to it all day long. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one bringing a smile to your face.

He smiled at your soft expression, trying to ignore the way it made his heart flutter in his chest. He wanted to keep seeing that smile, to keep making you laugh, to keep spending time with you, in this small slice of heaven in your bedroom.

He shifted slightly on your bed, wincing as the movement caused his ribs to flare up in pain again. He tried to hide it, not wanting to show any more weakness in front of you.

He looked down at his battered, bruised hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. He had caused you so much trouble already. He didn't deserve to be in your pristine room, on your soft bed, in your presence.

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Thanks again, for... you know, taking care of me."

You looked down at his bruised knuckles and small cuts on his hands, your expression softening yet again, this time a little more sad. Before you could stop yourself, your finger reached up to trace the injuries gently, like you were giving him a palm reading, "you don't have to thank me."

JJ's breath hitched as your soft, delicate finger traced his bruised knuckles. He could feel a jolt of electricity with your touch, a strange sensation he had never experienced before. It was both painful and soothing at the same time.

He tried to control his heart, which was suddenly racing in his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the feeling of your gentle touch, the way your skin felt against his rough and battered knuckles.

He swallowed hard, then opened his eyes again, looking up at you. He wanted to say something witty or sarcastic, his usual defense mechanism, but he found that he couldn't speak. He could only look at you, his eyes locked with yours, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the strange feeling in his stomach, the way your gentle touch was sending sparks through his entire body.

He tried to find his voice, managed to rasp out a quiet, "Why not?"

"You don't thank someone for giving you something you deserve, do you?" you asked with a small smile.

JJ blinked at your question, surprised by the simple yet profound logic. No one had ever spoken to him like this before, with such a gentle honesty and compassion.

He looked up at you, the harsh bravado and sarcasm nowhere in sight. He felt strangely vulnerable under your caring gaze, like you were seeing a side of him that he had never shown anyone before. He tried to reply, but found his words stuck in his throat. He simply shook his head in response, his heart fluttering again at the warmth in your eyes.

He looked down at his bruised hands, at your soft, gentle touch tracing over the injuries. He felt a wave of unfamiliar emotions wash over him, a mix of guilt, gratitude, vulnerability, and something else he couldn't quite name. Something he didn't dare to acknowledge, even with your picture sitting snugly in his old wallet everywhere he went.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew he should say something, but he didn't know how to express the strange mixture of feelings churning through him.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice softer than usual. "I'm not sure what I deserve..."

His words broke your heart even more than it already was. JJ deserved the world and even more. He deserved to wake up in a nice bed and eat the pancakes you sometimes were too picky on eating every morning, or to walk around his own house without fearing the ghost roaming its halls. To not be afraid that he might get a glass or plate thrown at his head, with the intent to blind him or cut into his flesh maliciously. JJ Maybank deserved at least the small sliver of love your parents showed from time to time when they spoke to you. Scratch that, you both could probably do a better job at being each other's parents than the adults in your lives.

You opened your arms shyly, raising your brows in expectancy. The hug would probably be awkward given how you were standing next to each other but you knew he needed it. You knew the look very well.

JJ felt his chest clench at the sight of your open arms, his heart thudding in his chest. He had never been one to show weakness, but the sight of your gentle gesture made him feel strangely open and vulnerable.

He hesitated for a moment, his pride telling him to resist, to maintain his usual tough facade. But the urge to hold you, to feel the comfort of your embrace, was stronger than his pride. He let out a shaky breath, then leaned in, slowly folding himself into the awkward hug.

The moment his body touched yours, JJ felt a strange mixture of sensations. There was the sting of pain from his bruised ribs, the sharp twinge of the cuts on his cheek and lip, but there was also a soft, comforting warmth that spread through his chest, a soothing balm for his weary heart.

He found himself leaning into the embrace, his head tucking naturally into the crook of your neck. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed your touch to hold himself together.

You could tell you were in fact right, from the way he hugged you. Like he had been waiting for you to hug him. Your arms wrapped around his neck gingerly, careful not to hurt him. It was the first time you probably initiated a hug, you were always one to shy away from gestures like these but this was JJ, your JJ. You could not, not give him the hug. Not with the way he looked or spoke, like he was 2 seconds away from breaking down.

JJ closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he held you closer, his arms tightening around your waist. The feeling of your arms around his neck, the gentleness and care in your embrace, was making his heart race, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering furiously.

He felt a strange sensation in his chest, a strange wave of emotions he couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of something new, something fragile and beautiful.

He found himself burying his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

He was overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through him. He was used to feeling strong, independent, in control. But here he was, in your soft embrace, feeling vulnerable and fragile, his defences crumbling down with every breath he took of your scent, every gentle touch of your hands on his back, every beat of your heart against his chest.

He knew he should pull away, but he found himself holding onto you even tighter, his body molded against yours, as if he couldn't get close enough,as if he needed your touch to breathe.

You rested your chin on top of his head, letting him pull away when he wanted to. You didn't wanna pull away anyway. It was nice, actually enjoying a hug and not having to worry if it was awkward or if you were too tense or weird. The hug just was.

JJ's breath hitched at the way you rested your chin on his head, his eyes closed as he tried to process the strange feelings swirling through him. He never thought a hug could feel so intimate, so vulnerable, and so... right.

He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, the softness of your skin against his cheek, the way your body melded against his. It was a strange, yet soothing sensation, and he found himself not wanting to let go, as if he was afraid to lose this feeling.

He shifted slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost as if he was trying to merge into you, to become one with you.

He knew he was probably being too clingy, too needy, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of your body against his, the comfort and safety of your embrace, was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his senses, his heart thudding in his chest.

He found himself mumbling something against your neck, the words coming out as a soft, almost slurred whisper. "Don't let go... please don't let go..."

He knew he probably sounded pathetic, like a wounded puppy seeking comfort from its master. But he couldn't help the desperate plea that escaped his lips. He needed your touch, your warmth, like a drowning man needing air to breathe.

You swallowed a lump that formed in your throat at his words, pulling him a little closer, shifting on the bed gently to move closer, still kneeling next to him on your bed. The thought of JJ sleeping on the beach all lonely and cold could have easily brought you to tears. If you weren't focused on the way he was holding you. A small part of your brain was still struggling to grasp that he was here, in your room, willingly hugging you. You wished he'd sleep at your place often. You could definitely use the company in this scary, imposing house.

JJ could feel the shift in your position on the bed, and it felt strangely intimate to have you so close to him, your body pressed against his. He knew he was probably crossing a boundary, being too needy and vulnerable, but the feeling of your warmth and comfort was too strong to resist.

He breathed in your scent again, his heart rate picking up as the distance between you shrank. His grip on you tightened, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you would disappear into air if he let go.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of emotions he had never experienced before. He had always prided himself on being tough, on being in control, on never letting anyone see his softness and vulnerability. He hated when things got too real.

But there he was, wrapped in your arms, holding onto you like a man drowning, like a wounded animal seeking safety and comfort.

His breathing was ragged, his heart was thudding so hard he was sure you could hear it. But he couldn't let go, he couldn't move away. He needed you, he needed your touch, your presence, like a moth to a flame. And suddenly, JJ didn't feel like shying away from the real stuff. He embraced it, at least for tonight, just like he was embracing you.

Your arms wrapped around his head holding him close to you, one of you hands tracing up and down on the length of his spine comfortingly, trying to make the tension in his body go away, you never had to comfort someone before, doing whatever felt right; whatever you saw in movies or read in books.

JJ felt a shiver run down his spine as your fingers traced the length of his back, tracing soothing patterns that were both gentle and firm. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing involuntarily, the tension slowly melting away under your soothing touch.

He felt his muscles unclench, his breaths becoming slightly more steady, the rapid thump of his heart steadying to a slower tempo. He felt his eyelids flutter, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He buried his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

His grip on you loosened slightly, as he felt the exhaustion taking over him. He was so tired, both physically and emotionally. The day had been a roller coaster of events, and the adrenaline and tension were finally wearing off, leaving him to feel like a wrung-out rag doll in your arms.

He let out a soft, barely audible mumble against your neck, the words slurring together.

"I'm... so tired..."

"Come on.. you can sleep of you want. That is, if you don't want to shower." you mumbled, a small sad frown tugging at your face, and you were glad he couldn't see it given you were hugging him.

JJ felt a pang in his chest at your words. He knew he should take a shower, he was sweaty and grimey and he probably reeked. But the idea of moving, of pulling away from your embrace, was unbearable right now.

He shook his head slightly, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice was soft against your skin.

"No shower... just... just let me hold you...please..."

You hummed, nodding against his head. You moved slightly, tugging him further on the bed so he could lay down and sleep. That way he ended up being the small spoon, his face still pressed into your chest, into the soft fabric of your hoodie. You took off your glasses setting on one of the many pillows next to you bringing him closer.

JJ felt a surge of gratefulness as you moved him to the bed, gently tugging him until he was lying on his side, his head pillowed on your chest. The feeling of you pulling him closer, your soft hoodie against his cheek, sent a wave of comfort through him.

He closed his eyes, burying his face into the fabric of your hoodie, inhaling the scent of you. He could feel your steady breaths beneath him, the slow, soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. It was the most soothing feeling he had ever experienced.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he mumbled something too incoherent for you to make out the first time.

"Hm?" you hummed gently, not quite making out what he said.

JJ felt your hum vibrate through your chest, the sound soothing and comforting. He cleared his throat slightly, repeating his soft, slurred words a bit louder this time.

"You... smell good..."

JJ inhaled deeply against your chest, his face still buried in your hoodie. He took a moment to savor your scent, letting it fill his nostrils and his heart, before answering.

"Like... perfume... and... and something... sweet and... comforting...?"

He paused, trying to put his muddled thoughts into words.

"Not like... like... those really strong scents that give you a headache... Yours smell... soft... and... nice..."

"Well... i didn't have time to shower so that's nice." you were in slight disbelief. Here you were, your childhood crush in your bed, in your arms and about to fall asleep. It was nice, even though you weren't dating or anything. You could probably get used to having JJ sleepily telling you, you smell good.

JJ chuckled softly, his voice still slightly slurred with exhaustion. He could feel the tiredness weighing down his body, his eyelids heavy, his mind sluggish. But he didn't want to sleep yet. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the moment, in the feeling of being in your arms, of you holding him so gently, so intimately. Like how he'd imagine it would feel if his mom held him in her arms. Maybe she did, and JJ just didn't remember it.

He shifted slightly, nuzzling into your chest, his arms tightening around your waist.

"You smell fine to me," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. His body was pressed up against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the rhythm of your breathing steady and soothing.

He felt a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability, wrapped in your arms like this. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

He was suddenly struck by a thought, and he mumbled against your chest. "Do you think... I stink... or something...?"

"No. You smell really nice actually. Like salt water and weed, and obviously male cologne and sun-screen.." you chuckled weakly, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

JJ's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It was a gentle, soothing gesture, and he found himself leaning into the touch, like a cat seeking affection.

He chuckled softly, his voice still slurred with exhaustion.

"Salt water and weed, huh? Sounds like a nice summer fragrance." He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into your chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of your perfume and skin and fabric softener of your hoodie mingled together, creating a strangely comforting smell that he could not get enough of.

His body felt heavy, like his bones were made of lead. The exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to him.

He mumbled against your chest, the words barely audible. "God, I'm tired..."

"Go to sleep JJ.." you mumbled comfortingly, your fingers still moving through his hair.

JJ felt himself nodding against your chest, his body relaxed and heavy. The soothing feel of your fingers moving through his hair, your warm body against his, the sound of your voice in his ear... it was all like a warmth surrounding him. Like sunlight on his skin when he was surfing and he was truly happy.

He mumbled something, his words slurred with sleepiness. "Stay with me...?"

The soft statement surprised you a little but you found the courage to hum in agreement. You knew he was probably just too sleepy, and that didn't mean anything but it still made you feel giddy and like a school girl with a crush, holding him tighter to your chest so he could fall asleep. You'd stay with him forever if he actually asked you.

JJ felt a wave of relief and comfort wash over him at your agreement. The idea of you staying with him, holding him as he slept, was like a soothing balm to his tired weary heart.

He nuzzled into your chest, his eyes closed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He mumbled something against your chest, but it was too soft and slurred to understand.

Slowly, gradually, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, safe and warm in your arms.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of your breathing and JJ's soft, sleepy sighs as he slept on your chest.

He looked younger like this, his features relaxed, his mouth slightly open, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He looked so vulnerable and soft, not like the tough, sarcastic, bad boy he portrayed in public, especially asleep on your girly bedding and surrounded by dozens of your plushies.

His body was heavy and limp, his arms and legs sprawled out awkwardly, as if he had simply given up on trying to keep himself upright and just succumbed to the exhaustion.

Every now and then, he would mumble something incoherent in his sleep, a soft, almost inaudible utterance. He would shift slightly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, seeking your warmth even in his unconscious state. His breaths were steady and slow, falling into a peaceful, regular rhythm. It was a far cry from the chaotic energy he exuded when awake, the constant movement and joking that seemed to define him.

He seemed so peaceful, so vulnerable, as if all the walls he built up when he was awake had fallen down in his sleep and left him exposed, unguarded.

Despite his usual bravado and swagger, there was something childlike about him in his sleep. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips every now and then, as if he was having a pleasant dream.

He let out a soft mumbling sound, and his arms tightened slightly around you, as if he was afraid to let go, even in his sleep.

You stirred awake, the sunlight teasing you through the dusty pink curtains of your room. It took you almost a minute to realize the weight on your chest and in your arms was JJ. He had actually fell asleep in your arms and in your bed. It wasn't a dream. You propped your self on your elbow gently, gazing down at his sleeping form. He looked so soft and... not tense. His hair was messy and although his face was still battered and bruised he was still angelic looking. He glowed in the soft sunlight.

You were hesitant at first but you leaned in gently and carefully, pressing a small kiss on his forehead. You didn't want him to wake up. That would be weird, you were barely friends as it was, he would probably find it strange if he woke up and found you kissing his forehead while he slept.

JJ stirred slightly as you shifted, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. He felt groggy and disoriented at first, unsure of where he was and why were his nostrils assaulted by a very feminine smell.

As his eyes focused, he realized he was still in your bed, his body pressed against yours, your face just inches away from his. He felt a mix of surprise and embarrassment at the situation. How the hell did he end up falling asleep in your bed? With you? Cuddled up like some damn puppy.

He mumbled something, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes fixed on yours.

He could feel the warmth of your body against his, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He was too groggy from sleep to fully process the situation, his brain still catching up to the moment.

He noticed the look in your eyes, the soft expression on your face, and he felt a sudden jolt of curiosity and... something else he couldn't quite name. He licked his dry lips, his voice still thick and raspy.

"Did... did I fall asleep on you?..."

"Kind of, yeah.." you mumbled, your voice a little gravelly with the remnants of sleep, your brain holding onto his every word in his sleepy voice. It was slightly deeper and gravelly (which probably would have made you giddy if you weren't half asleep still) like yours and he looked a little messy and confused. So pretty.

JJ felt a mixture of embarrassment and confusion at the revelation that he had fallen asleep on you. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but judging by the sunlight coming through the curtains, it had been awhile.

He sat up slowly, rolling his neck and running his hand through his tousled hair, trying to get his bearings. He glanced at you, taking in your sleepy expression and messy hair, and he felt that strange flutter in his chest again. You looked... nice like that. Soft and warm and... pretty.

He cleared his throat, fighting back the strange fluttering in his stomach. he was not some damn lovestruck idiot.

He spoke, his voice still raspy with sleep, trying to sound casual. "How long was I out for?..."

You propped your self fully on your elbows gazing at him slightly unfocused from sleep and the lack of your glasses, shrugging shyly. God, his voice sounded so good in the morning. "i was also asleep.."

JJ chuckled weakly at your response. Of course, you were asleep too. It was such a stupid question.

He took a moment to study your face, still so close to his, noting the way your hair was messy and tousled from sleep, sticking out in different directions. He fought back the urge to reach out and run his fingers through that wild hair, maybe even tug on a strand a little... just because.

He cleared his throat again, tearing his gaze away from your messy hair and back to your eyes, a hint of amused confusion in his voice.

"So, I guess we passed out together, huh? In your bed... together..."

He paused for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in, and he felt that familiar sense of embarrassment and confusion stirring within him. He mumbled under his breath, only half-joking, his southern drawl more obvious since he had just woken up. "This is a bit... awkward, ain't it?"

"I did bring you here to sleep after all..." you mumbled, your words shy and gentle, still laced with sleep as you gazed at him timidly.

JJ chuckled softly at your words, his voice still rough and raspy. "Yeah, you did... but I didn't expect we'd end up cuddling all night... in your bed..."

He tried to sound casual, tried to ignore the weird fluttering of butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart had started to beat a little faster as he looked into your eyes.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to distract himself from the situation, but his gaze kept returning to your face, to your messy hair and sleepy eyes... "I can't believe we slept like this... I must have been exhausted..."

He paused for a moment, his voice getting even quieter.

"Did I... did I talk in my sleep? Or... do anything weird...?"

"I wouldn't know... i was also passed out." you mentioned once again, your hand trying to casually smooth over your hair knowing how messy it got when you slept.

JJ watched as you attempted to tame your wild, tousled hair, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He couldn't deny that he found the whole situation... endearing, in a chaotic, messy kind of way. You looked so different from your usual, reserved self, disheveled and groggy from sleep. He kind of liked it, though, found himself wishing to wake up next to you more often although he'd never admit that out loud.

He shifted a little, the blankets rustling as he adjusted his position, sitting closer to you, his body still warm from sleep.

He found himself wanting to reach out to you, to run his fingers through that messy hair, to smooth it back, to feel the softness of your strands against his skin...

He kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap, though, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He mumbled softly instead, his voice a low, groggy rumble. "You look... different when you just wake up. Cuter, I guess..."

You gave up trying to tame your hair, putting it in a loose bun and searching for your glasses and placing them on your face. This was actually insane. JJ Maybank had slept in your bed, holding you nonetheless and now he was acting all casual about it. Like he didn't spend the night in a girl's bedroom, one he barely knew.

JJ watched as you pulled your hair back into a loose bun and put on your glasses. The whole scene was strangely domestic, and he felt weirdly comfortable. It was all very strange and... nice?

He kept his eyes on you, studying your movements, noting the way your hair still stuck out in some wild directions, despite your attempts to tame it. He found it endearing, somehow.

He leaned back against the headboard, resting his arms on his knees, his voice still low and sleepy.

"So, what... what now?"

"I.. dunno.. " you mumbled, stretching a little and letting out an involuntary squeal as you did, looking back at him and shrugging.

JJ couldn't help but chuckle at the little squeal you let out as you stretched. It was so unexpected, so unlike your usual, reserved self. He found himself liking this... softer, sleepier side of you.

He leaned forward a little, his eyes still on you, amused. "You squeak like a mouse when you stretch?"

"I'm living up to the nickname 'mouse' i guess.." you laughed softly referring to the nickname he called you usually.

JJ chuckled at your comment, a smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the nickname he'd given you. "Ah, right. Mouse. Guess it fits you. Small, skittish, squeaking when you stretch..."

He teased gently, his tone playful but not unkind. He leaned back against the headboard again, studying you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your tousled hair and sleepy expression.

He still couldn't believe he'd woken up cuddled up to you, his arms around you, your body pressed against his. It was all so surreal. And... not unpleasant, he had to admit.

He decided to test the waters a bit, his voice still low and raspy. "So, does this happen a lot? You letting guys sleep in your bed?"

Your brows furrowed at his question, letting out a yawn covering your mouth as you did so, "no...?" what a weird question.

JJ chuckled softly at your confused expression and sleepy yawn. He didn't know why he'd asked that question. It was a stupid question, really. "No? So... this doesn't happen often, then? Letting a guy sleep in your bed... cuddling with him all night..."

He didn't know why he was prodding you, but he liked seeing you slightly flustered and disoriented from sleep. It was... cute, in a way.

"Technically you asked me to hold you..." you spoke shyly, shrugging.

JJ chuckled again, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He had asked for you to hold him, hadn't he. He just didn't think you'd actually do it, and definitely didn't expect he'd end up falling asleep in your arms.

He paused for a moment, his tone a bit sheepish.

"Yeah, I guess I did. And you actually agreed..." He ran his hand through his hair again, his expression becoming a little more serious.

"Are you... are you always this nice to strangers? You don't even really know me, mouse. And yet... you let me into your bed, slept with me in it, even held me and everything..."

He knew he was digging for answers, asking questions that bordered on personal. But he couldn't help himself. He was suddenly itching to know more about you, the mysterious, shy girl who had captured his curiosity after they spent 20 minutes locked up in a closet at a house party.

'Oh i know you alright.' You thought, "well.. we're friends right?" you asked hesitantly, furrowing your brows. Despite the whole picture thing, which you were curious about. Did he still have the picture of you from that day in the marsh?

Despite that, you had barely talked before all this, before getting stuck in the closet together that night at the party. He wasn't teasing you but, he wasn't talking to you either, barely knew of your existence. And now he was in your bed, probably carrying a picture of you everywhere. Weird.

JJ thought for a moment, considering your simple question.

"Friends? I... I guess so, sort of." He considered whether to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, but decided to go ahead with it, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I have a question."

"Yeah?" you raised your brows, prodding him to continue with his question.

JJ fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, his eyes flickering between your face and the bedsheet, suddenly feeling a bit... shy.

"That day in the marsh... That picture you took of me. Do you still have it?"

"Oh yeah..." you reached for your wallet on your nightstand, fishing the picture from it and holding it out to him shyly.

JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He felt his heart skip a beat at the brief touch.

He brought the picture closer to his face, studying his own face in the photo. He remembered that moment, how annoyed and pissed off he felt that day before noticing you crouched down between the reeds in the marsh, how you'd caught him in that vulnerable moment in the marsh with your camera.

He turned to you, a hint of embarrassed annoyance in his voice. "You... you really keep this in your wallet?"

"Well i gave you the picture you took of me that day... i thought it was only right to keep it. That's if you didn't keep that picture of me.." you chuckled nervously, adjusting your glasses and shifting on your bed.

JJ smirked at your response, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Of course I still have the picture of you. I carry it around all the time. In my wallet, with me everywhere."

JJ chuckled softly, a smug smirk on his face as he replied to your nervous comment. "I would never throw away a picture of you, mouse. That picture of you... that day in the marsh. I have it with me all the time. In my wallet. Everywhere I go."

JJ watched as you studied the picture, his expression soft. He had been teasing you by taking the photo that day, but seeing you now, seeing your face so close, your smile that he'd captured in that moment... he felt his heart flutter unexpectedly.

"I guess we... we both keep each other's pictures around, huh?"

You nodded mutely, handing the picture of you back to him. The situation was genuinely something so... strange. He was carrying the picture of you like you were a couple, sleeping in your arms and at your place like it was normal. You wondered if he did this usually, sleep over at girl's places and carried pictures of them.

You shifted your attention to glancing around your room, the soft sunlight seeping through the dusty pink curtains, the mess on the floor and the fact that you were still in your hoodie and jeans after having falling asleep with JJ. The first aid kit was still sprawled out on the foot of the bed, reminder that JJ didn't come here on his own. You had invited him over to let him sleep here after a fight with his old man. "what now?" you asked, turning to him, your voice still holding the remnants of sleep.

JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours yet again, the touch like electricity on his skin. He placed the picture back in his wallet, his thoughts consumed with the idea that you carried around a picture of him... as he did of you.

He stretched, yawning softly and glancing around the room. This whole situation was so bizarre, but he couldn't deny the strange kind of comfort he felt, being here, in your room...

His eyes landed on the first aid kit, lying on the foot of the bed, and he remembered the reason he was here in the first place.

He looked back at you, his expression turning a little more serious. "Well, I guess I should probably get going... need to head back to the Chateau before the guys start wondering where I am."

He started to get up from the bed, but something in him was reluctant to leave. He didn't want this... strange, comfortable moment to end, this rare moment of quiet and intimacy with you.

He stood up, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to look composed as he glanced down at you on the bed. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in your sleep-tousled hair and sleepy expression. He couldn't help but find it adorable, in a way.

He cleared his throat, his voice a bit rough as he spoke again. "Thanks for... letting me sleep here, mouse. And... for all the bandages and stuff."

You looked down at your lap before standing up off the bed too, now on the opposite side of your bed, nodding hesitantly, "yeah... yeah, no problem." you scanned his form, his face still littered with the bruises and battered, black eye glaring at you in a dark purple.

You liked how he looked in your room, like he was supposed to be here. But that was just your years long crush talking. Being biased wasn't good for the heart, you learned throughout the years of liking JJ. You wondered if his bruised rib was doing any better, or if he liked sleeping with you, in your arms. But you were too shy to ask of course. And he was on the cusp of leaving anyway.

JJ couldn't help but notice the way you were looking at him, your gaze taking in his bruised and battered face. He felt a flicker of embarrassment, hating that you had to see him like this, all beaten up and wounded.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling a bit awkward now that the strange, intimate atmosphere of the night seemed to be fading with the impending departure of the morning.

He glanced around the room, taking in the soft pink curtains, the messy floor, the small touches that made this place unmistakably yours. It was a stark contrast to the Chateau, to his chaotic and messy existence. He found himself wondering what it would be like, to be a part of this orderly, peaceful space.

His eyes fell on a framed picture on your dresser with you and your parents. He couldn't help but feel a pang of... what was that? Jealousy?

He took a step closer, studying the picture. You looked so happy in it, surrounded by your family, the picture filled with genuine joy. It was a stark contrast to his own family, or the lack thereof. He felt a pang of something painful in his chest, a mix of envy and longing for a life he'd never known.

He tore his eyes away from the picture, his gaze landing on you again. His voice was unusually quiet, almost fragile.

"This your family?"

You walked around the bed, stopping next to him awkwardly nodding. The picture was of you, your sister and your parents, on a vacation 4 years ago. The picture looked like you were all happy, the shot taken by another passer by tourist that your parents had asked. You weren't that thrilled to go with them that summer, but that was the only way 13 year old could spend time with emotional distant parents. And it wasn't like they were gonna leave you at home all alone at 13. How things changed, you thought. They're barely home with you now as you near the age of 18.

"yeah.."

JJ nodded slowly, studying the picture with a mix of jealousy and curiosity. It seemed so... normal, so perfect. A happy family on a vacation, smiling for a photo.

He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, to have parents who cared enough to take him on vacations, to have a family that didn't fall apart at the seams.

He looked back at you, his eyes soft but his voice laced with a hint of bitterness.

"Must be nice."

He turned away from the picture, leaning against the dresser, his gaze flickering around the room once more. He felt a little out of place, like a wild animal that had somehow stumbled into a pristine, well-kept sanctuary. He was used to chaos, the Chateau, the constant fights and drama, the lack of stability and safety. This room, with its neatness and quiet peace, felt like a different world. A world he was just a visitor in, passing through on his way to something else.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped slightly.

He glanced back at you, taking in your shy, awkward stance next to him. There was something vulnerable about you right now, something that tugged at his heartstrings in a way he wasn't used to. He felt an unfamiliar urge to protect you, to shield you from the cruelty of the world. But he also knew he was the last person who should be doing any protecting. He was a Pogue, a mess, a lost cause. What could he offer you? A shitty life in the trailer park? Hell no. He knew what happened to that one dude from Greek mythology when he flew too close to the sun. And he was feeling like he was nearing that point by extending his stay here, with your warm presence that seemed to be melting his wax wings slowly.

He couldn't allow himself to free-fall.

He cleared his throat, his voice gruff as he tried to act nonchalantly, to cover up the vulnerability he was feeling.

"I guess I better get going, then. The guys are probably starting to wonder where I am. They're probably wondering why I was out all night, instead of crashing on the couch at the Chateau."

You drew in a sharp breath, nodding once again. You knew your parents weren't home, so him leaving through the front door wasn't a problem. "I'll walk you out.." you mumbled, gesturing towards the door of your room vaguely.

JJ nodded and made his way towards the door, followed closely by you. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, ranging from gratitude to uncertainty, lingering thoughts of the night before, the strange comfort he found in your presence, in your bed, in your embrace. As he reached the front door, he turned to you one last time, his gaze meeting yours. "Thanks... for everything, mouse."

He flashed you a small, lopsided smile, his usually cheeky smirk replaced by a surprisingly genuine one. For a moment, he looked younger, less hardened by his life on the Cut.

Then, with a final nod, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool, crisp morning air. JJ wasn't gonna let his wings melt and free-fall. He didn't have the luxury to..

—♡‧

A/N: Not them cuddling all night and carrying pictures of each other, like... King and queen of (was it casual?) They'd eat that tik tok trend up. Idk how this ended up also kinda angsty. Anyway, do not fret because next chapter we're finally getting action! It was about DAMN time. What did you guys think? love you all sm and don't hesitate to comment and send asks my fav part of this is interacting with y'all.

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Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen

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moonselune · 8 months ago

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Hello! Could I ask for Lae'zel, Astarion, Gale and Halsin with naturally rather aloof reader? Meaning someone who's usually reserved even though (or especially when) they're in love 🤭

Aww this is so so sweet !

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Lae'zel:

Your natural aloofness had always been a part of who you were. Even in the midst of a raging battle, you kept a cool head and maintained a reserved demeanor. It was a quality that had always drawn Lae'zel to you, her admiration for your strength and composure a constant undercurrent in your interactions.

Then as your relationship deepened, this aloofness of yours only grew, particularly when it came to matters of the heart. Public displays of affection were a rarity, and you found yourself even more reserved when you were around her. Yet, this suited Lae'zel perfectly.

She had never been one for public displays of affection either. The disciplined and stoic nature of the Githyanki warrior didn't leave much room for tenderness in the open. Instead, she cherished the private moments you shared, the times when the world faded away, and it was just the two of you.

One evening, after a grueling day of battle and travel, you found yourselves alone by the campfire. The others had already retired for the night, leaving you both in the quiet solitude of the night. Lae'zel sat sharpening her blade, the rhythmic sound of stone against steel a comforting backdrop.

You sat nearby, your eyes fixed on the fire, the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on your face. Lae'zel watched you out of the corner of her eye, appreciating the serenity in your expression. She set her blade aside and moved closer, her movements deliberate and graceful.

"You fought well today," she said, her voice low and steady. You glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"So did you," you replied, your tone just as measured.

Lae'zel reached out, her hand resting on yours. The gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes. In the stillness of the night, this small touch felt more intimate than any grand display of affection could. You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers with hers.

"I cherish these moments," Lae'zel said softly, her eyes locking onto yours. "The world may see us as warriors - and we are, fierce, brutal and efficient warriors but regardless, here, with you, I can be something more."

Your heart swelled at her words, but you maintained your composed exterior. "As do I," you said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Lae'zel leaned in, her forehead resting against yours. The firelight illuminated her face, highlighting the intensity in her eyes. "We do not need grand gestures or public displays, calling you mine is all I need."

You nodded in reciprocation and squeezed her hand once more. Lae'zel pulled away and you rested your head on her shoulder, the two of you staring into the fire. The two of you remained there for the rest of the late evening, content with each other, happy. Just truly happy.

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Gale:

Your composure was your greatest asset. Complete chaos could descend upon the camp and you would still maintain a reserved demeanor. You always keep your emotions close to your chest. It was a quality that intrigued Gale from the moment he met you, his fascination with your enigmatic nature only growing as he got to know you better.

As he began to woo you, or rather wow you - like he liked to say, you found yourself becoming even more reserved, particularly when it came to expressing your feelings for him. Not because you didn't care for him, the opposite in fact. It was because you cared so much that you became more.. aloof. This aloofness, however, often led to endearing moments of misunderstanding, especially given Gale's affectionate nature.

One evening, after a long day of travel, you found yourselves alone in the camp. The others had already retired for the night, leaving you both in the quiet solitude of the evening. You sat by the campfire, dwelling over the day, while Gale prepared a pot of tea. He approached you with two steaming mugs, offering one to you with a warm smile.

"A little something to help us unwind," he said, his voice gentle. You took the mug, your fingers brushing against his.

"Thank you," you said softly, your gaze still averted. Gale sat beside you, his eyes studying your profile.

"You know, you don't have to be so reserved with me, love," he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I won't bite… much."

You couldn't help but smile at his teasing, though you quickly masked it with a sip of tea. "Old habits," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gale chuckled, shaking his head. "It's endearing, really," he said. "But sometimes, I wish you'd let me see more of what you're feeling."

You glanced at him, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment before you looked away again. "I do… in my own way," you said, your voice hesitant.

Gale reached out, gently placing his hand on your cheek. The touch was warm and reassuring, and you felt your defenses start to crumble. "I know," he said softly. "And I cherish every glimpse you give me."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender kiss. You felt a rush of warmth spread through you, your aloof facade beginning to melt away.

"It's just… difficult," you admitted, your voice barely audible. Gale smiled, his eyes full of understanding.

"I know it is, but you don't have to hide from me." He pulled back slightly, his hand still resting on your cheek. "I love that blushing smile of yours,"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you looked away, flustered. "Stop it," you muttered, though there was no real force behind your words.

Gale chuckled, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I can't help it," he said. "You’re too adorable when you’re flustered."

You sighed, finally allowing yourself to lean into his touch. "You're impossible," you said, a small smile playing on your lips.

Gale's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with joy. "And you love me for it," he said, his voice full of playful confidence.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrayed your true feelings. "Maybe I do," you said softly.

Gale's expression softened, his eyes filled with love. "And that's all I need," he said, leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

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Astarion:

Your stoicism was something Astarion found enticing. He was so accustomed to people succumbing to his honeyed words, yet you were an endearing challenge. His attempts to fluster you grew more elaborate, and you responded by retreating further into your shell, maintaining your cool exterior. But Astarion was nothing if not persistent.

One evening, the two of you were camped by a river, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the landscape. The gentle murmur of the water and the rustling of leaves created a serene backdrop. Astarion approached you as you sat at the riverbank, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Darling, have I told you how utterly captivating you are tonight?" he purred, his voice dripping with charm.

You glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Only about a dozen times," you replied, your tone even.

Astarion feigned a pout, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Ah, but it is always worth repeating, my love. Your beauty is simply breathtaking."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress the small smile that broke through. "Astarion, must you always be so dramatic?"

He grinned, stepping closer. "Only when I'm around you," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It's the only way to get that lovely blush to appear."

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks and quickly turned away, pretending to be engrossed in the view. Astarion let out a soft chuckle, clearly pleased with himself. It was the small victories. You regained yourself and turned back to him. "Liar, you are dramatic all of the time."

"What? Me? Never!" Astarion huffed in mock offense and sat down next to you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through you. Astarion moved his hand towards yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours.

"Tell me, love," he said softly. "Why do you always hide what you feel?"

You hesitated, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. "I… it's just how I am," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Astarion sighed, his expression softening. "You know, ordinarily I would call you a prude and make some crass remark, but I can't and that's your fault."

"I'm… sorry?" You turned to him, a confused smile on your lips, and he flashed a fangy smile at you.

"All of it is your fault, actually. You've done something rather terrible," Astarion continued. "You've made me realize what love is."

"Oh, what a villain I am," you chuckled, and Astarion rested his head on your shoulder.

"Yes, quite heinous," Astarion agreed with you. "I was quite happy calling love nothing but a fleeting justification for lust and desire, but you have managed to prove me completely and utterly wrong."

A moment of silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm. You felt Astarion's breath against your neck, his closeness a constant reminder of the growing bond between you.

"You know," you began hesitantly, "I'm not very good at this… expressing my feelings."

Astarion lifted his head and looked at you, his eyes full of understanding. "Neither am I, darling. I've spent centuries avoiding the very thing. But with you… it's different."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there. It was a side of Astarion that he rarely showed, and it made your heart ache with affection. "We'll figure it out together," you said softly.

Astarion's lips curved into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes. "Yes, we will." He leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It was slow and deliberate, a silent promise of the future you would navigate together.

As you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his. "I might not always show it, but… I care about you. Deeply."

"I know," Astarion whispered, his voice filled with emotion. "And that's more than enough for me."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Amidst the camaraderie of your group and the bond you shared with Halsin, you often found it difficult to express your emotions openly. This reserve only deepened as your feelings for him grew, creating a quiet, unspoken but not unpleasant tension between you.

Halsin, however, seemed to understand. Unlike others who might have been frustrated by your aloofness, he accepted it with a calm grace, finding solace in the small, meaningful moments you shared. He had grown accustomed to people throwing themselves at him, their affections often overwhelming and insincere. Your reserved nature was a refreshing change, a quiet testament to the depth of your feelings.

One afternoon, you found yourself in a serene clearing, the sun filtering through the canopy above. Halsin was sitting nearby, working on a small wooden carving. You watched him for a moment, admiring the skill and care he put into his craft. As if sensing your gaze, Halsin looked up and smiled.

"Come, sit with me," he said, his voice warm and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment before moving to join him, settling down beside him on the soft grass.

"What are you making?" you asked, your curiosity getting the better of you. Halsin held up the carving, revealing a delicate wooden bird.

"A gift for you," he said simply, placing it gently in your hand. You turned the carving over, marveling at the intricate details.

"It's beautiful," you said softly, a genuine smile breaking through your reserved facade.

Halsin's eyes softened, his expression filled with affection. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "I enjoy making things for you."

Touched by his words, you reached into your pack and pulled out a flower crown you had made earlier. An array of daisies and dandelions carefully woven with your love for him.

"Funnily enough, I made this for you," you said, handing it to him with a shy smile.

Halsin's face lit up with a broad smile as he accepted the crown, carefully placing it on his head.

"Thank you," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "It's perfect."

One evening, as the sun set and cast a golden glow over the camp, Halsin approached you with a soft smile. "Would you like to take a walk with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

You nodded, placing your hand in his. The two of you walked in silence, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of night creatures. As you walked, you felt the tension in your shoulders slowly dissipate, replaced by a warm sense of contentment.

Eventually, you reached a small, secluded grove. Halsin turned to you, his eyes full of gentle affection.

"I know you find it difficult to express your feelings," he said softly. "But you don't have to hide them from me. Though I say that I want to assure you that my love for you never falters. I see the warmth in your eyes, I feel the love in your touch, no matter how fleeting. I am yours entirely and I am more than honoured to call you mine."

You felt a rush of emotion, your heart swelling with love for the kind, patient man standing before you. Too many times had your nature caused a rift between you and past lovers, too often had you thought you were doomed to be alone forever.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. Halsin smiled, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

"There's no need to thank me," he said softly. "I love you, just as you are."

In that moment, you realized how deeply you had come to care for Halsin. Despite your aloofness, he had managed to reach your heart, filling it with warmth and love. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you knew that you had found something truly special.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Awww this ended up being a bit hurt/comfort for some of them but I hope you all enjoy this - Seluney xox

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pricklyjim · 1 month ago

Note

Hello! Your AU is amazing. Absolutely adore how you describe this world. Especially, when you write about the culture, history and politics of Cybertron. I'd like to know a little more about Orion (It's a bit of a pity that he won't stay small when he gets the Matrix. Gonna miss this small gremlin, but the only one who can kick Megatron's aft). I'd like to know more about how he became the leader of the Autobots. In the original, he was given this title through the Matrix of Leadership. But in your AU it had to happen in some other way. He is definitely understanding and well-read, but this is not enough to be a leader. So I'm interested in how he was chosen. Thanks in advance!

haha, so many people want Orion to stay small!! it’s kinda funny

now! onto why he was chosen by primus:

Essentially, once orion reaches mid-age, he is given a government assigned position, same as all cybertronian who leave their sparkling stage of life.

and he is assigned to be a scribe, given his caplet to wear. (like a uniform)

he worked day in, day out, over and over, to the bone and very much wearing himself out, however, one day, he stumbles upon some old texts,

writings hidden in the police confidentiality unit, from a mech who used to write about how his sire suffered greatly, wearing herself down, losing parts of her body to the mines, and breaking her body to work for the caste system.

so much sadness, so much pain and suffering, and orion connects with it, he becomes obsessed, reading every work, and eventually he decides to write his own scriptures, hevily inspired by megatronus’s works but far less aggressive.

he comes up with solutions, rather then stating they should abolishing higher caste members —he states how castes of all levels should work together to take down the system, rather then take down the higher caste.

this eventually leads to an explosion of popularity around his works, he’s thrusted into a lot of positive reviews and people backing him, and people put HIM, on a pedi-stool, and at first he leans into it, giving speeches and going to places ruined by caste to shed light on the situation that plagues cybertronian society.

some-where along the line rodimus is killed, magnus steps down, the government is in ruins. and this is when the people of cybertron, inspired by Orion and his works, hoist him up, they push him to take the role of leadership.

and how can he refuse? he did write those works, after all, he wanted to change the system, he’d have to eat what he ordered.

However terrified he may be, however must pressure he must carry, he must do so in order to be that firm pillar his community see him as.

Orions rise to leadership isn’t one he particularly wanted, but he can’t allow people suffer so he does what he need to do and leads, and that’s the quality that makes a Head-Prime.

he’s terrified of Megatron, of the mech he’s become, and the future ahead, but he knows that whatever happens he’ll never stop fighting for what’s right.

I know in most interpretations orion is given leader through the matrix, but i thought it would be interesting to make his leadership be one that he gains over time, and eventually leads to Primus approving.

to sum up the timeline:

Orion is megatronus’s fanboy #1 fan

makes his own political fanfic where he verbally bangs megatronus’s and his written work

People love his fanfic and they think that baby girl should lead them

RODIMUS FUCKING DIES

baby girl becomes leader and is conflicted at the fact his FAVVVVV has become CANCELLED and controversialAF

[Jims note: Also, if i kept Orion small, i fear i’d they end up looking like this_]

[AND I DO NOT FW THIS!!! I DONT WANT THISSSSSS]

[DRAFT LORE]

#lore #world building #transformers

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theunsinkableship1 · 1 month ago

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In response to @lillforpolin

Thank you for your measured tone and for taking the time to share your perspective. I appreciate the opportunity for respectful dialogue, and I’ll do my best to respond in kind.

First, I’d like to clarify that this space is not centered on blind adoration for either Nicola or Luke as individuals. In fact, my investment here stems not from a belief in their infallibility or an assumption of their moral superiority but from an admiration for the unique and genuine connection I perceive between them a bond that transcends mere professional camaraderie.

You mentioned women "adoring" a man. I want to make it clear that I don’t "adore" Luke or Nicola in a personal capacity. I respect their talent as actors and appreciate the qualities others, including cast and crew, have attributed to them such as Luke’s thoughtfulness and kindness and Nicola’s wit and professionalism. However, my engagement here isn’t about elevating either of them as individuals. Rather, it’s about supporting what I believe to be a rare and extraordinary bond between two people. This distinction is key.

I also do not believe either of them to be liars, though I acknowledge I could be mistaken. My belief in their authenticity is grounded in the consistent way they have been praised by colleagues and their own behavior. I trust that neither of them would intentionally “hard launch” a relationship in a way that would be disrespectful or hurtful, especially during a premiere, nor would they defend someone publicly who had behaved inappropriately. If I believed they were guilty of either, I would not be here.

You suggest that my presence here demonstrates support for problematic behavior on Luke’s part. I must respectfully disagree. The interpretation of the so-called “launch” during the premiere is not universally agreed upon. From my perspective, the situation is not as definitive as you suggest, and therefore, any judgment is premature.

If this act was indeed intended as you perceive it a deliberate public distraction on such an important night it could be concerning. With a background in PR, I can understand why this situation might be perceived as a misstep. However, precisely because of that perspective, I find it highly unlikely that this unfolded as part of any deliberate plan on his part. The nuances of public image management make such a scenario seem implausible, particularly given the potential for unintended backlash. Based on my understanding of Luke and Nicola’s dynamic, as well as the broader context, I see no compelling evidence that this was the case. Instead, it seems to me that assumptions about their intentions are being conflated with established facts.

You state that this community is accessible in minutes, which is true, but it is also purposefully created for a specific purpose: to discuss and explore the perceived connection between Luke and Nicola. It is not a space to challenge that purpose or derail it entirely. There are countless platforms where one can critique public figures and their actions. Actively seeking out a niche space, designed for a particular focus, to criticize or dispute that focus can come across as intrusive.

As you pointed out, you wouldn’t enter private spaces to challenge others’ dreams, yet by engaging here, it feels like you are doing just that. The idea that one must address grievances where “it all happens” is understandable to a degree, but this is not a general public forum; I only use the hashtags Lukola and lukolaland, it is a community centered around a specific belief. There is space elsewhere for broader critiques of fandom behavior or public figures, and I encourage utilizing those instead.

You raise an important point about double standards in how public actions are judged depending on the gender of the individual. However, this isn’t the lens through which I view Luke and Nicola. My interest isn’t about defending one over the other or excusing problematic behavior based on gender. My focus is their shared dynamic, which I perceive as unique and worth celebrating.

Ultimately, I believe in approaching this situation with humility. I don’t know the full truth none of us do. That’s why I refrain from declaring certainty about their personal lives. What I support here is not an uncritical endorsement of everything they do but rather a belief in their connection as something rare and special.

I encourage everyone, myself included, to remain respectful and grounded in discussions like this. If you find this community or its focus incompatible with your beliefs, there are many other spaces better suited for broader discussions or critiques. This space was not designed for universal agreement, but it does have a specific purpose, and I believe it’s important to honor that.

Thank you for engaging thoughtfully, and I hope this response clarifies my position.

I apologize if I wasn’t brief, but I hope my message was clear.

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mononijikayu · 9 months ago

Text

"the good life is just ahead of us." — gojo satoru.

Why he insisted on being the one to marry you, and not someone else, was a question that plagued your thoughts. After all, he had an uncle who could have fulfilled the role just as easily. The Gojo name alone would have been enough to shield you from the Zenin clan's influence.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: endless love - the myth by luyifei

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

masterlist

u s and t h e m

THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU WERE EXPECTING FOR YOURSELF. But you supposed here you were, a wife. The soft glow of paper lanterns illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over the two of you. You sat side by side, still adorned in your wedding kimonos, the delicate fabric rustling softly with each movement.

The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, a reminder of the ceremonies that had just concluded. The traditional wedding had been beautiful, a blend of solemnity and joy that now left you in a quiet, reflective mood.

You never expected to marry, not even as once an heir to the Zenin. The idea of marriage seemed distant and inconsequential, especially given your upbringing in the rigid traditions of the sorcerer clans. But fate had a way of surprising you, and you found yourself facing a future you never anticipated. And to make it even more unexpected, you were marrying someone younger than you, your kouhai, Gojo Satoru.

The age gap of just three years seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet it was enough to raise eyebrows among the conservative circles of the jujutsu world. But age was just a number, and both of you were of age, mature enough to understand the implications of your union.

It wasn't a marriage born out of love, at least not in the conventional sense. Instead, it was a pragmatic decision, a calculated move to protect yourself from the suffocating grip of the Zenin clan.

As you stole a glance at Satoru, you couldn't help but marvel at the stoicism that seemed to define him. Despite his youth, there was a wisdom and resolve in his gaze that belied his years. He carried himself with a confidence and grace that commanded respect, a stark contrast to the uncertainty that gnawed at your own heart.

But Satoru was adamant, his determination unwavering. He saw something in you, something worth protecting, and he wasn't about to let you face your fate alone. His loyalty and selflessness were qualities you admire, even as you grappled with the weight of his decision. And so, with a mixture of apprehension and gratitude, you embarked on this unexpected journey, unsure of where it would lead but determined to face it together, hand in hand.

Life as a Jujutsu sorcerer was a tumultuous journey, fraught with uncertainties and dangers lurking at every turn. From the moment you embarked on this path, you knew that your existence would be defined by battles against cursed spirits, the constant threat of death looming over you like a dark shadow. In such a perilous world, thoughts of marriage seemed like distant fantasies, unattainable dreams reserved for those fortunate enough to live outside the confines of the jujutsu society.

As you navigated the treacherous waters of sorcerer life, you couldn't help but envy the love story that your parents had shared. Theirs was a romance that had transcended the boundaries of clan politics and societal expectations, a testament to the power of love in the face of adversity. But such tales of enduring love felt like distant echoes in your own reality, overshadowed by the ever-present specter of clan obligations and duty.

Over the years, you had watched as your peers found love and companionship, forging meaningful connections amidst the chaos of their lives as sorcerers. Yet for you, the prospect of marriage remained an elusive dream, a distant star shimmering on the horizon but forever out of reach. Clan politics and the weight of tradition cast a long shadow over your hopes for a happy ending, leaving you resigned to the belief that such joys were simply not meant for someone like you.

With each passing year, your hope for finding a partner dwindled, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance of your solitary fate. The idea of experiencing the kind of love that your parents had shared felt like an unattainable fantasy, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been but never was. And so, you resigned yourself to a life devoid of romantic love, finding solace instead in the company of your fellow sorcerers and the shared purpose that bound you together in the fight against darkness.

There was no reason to settle down, to have that sort of normal that most people do. Not even when Kaiko was alive, not even when you were your father’s heir to the Zenin. And so, you lived your life as you always have — chasing after curses and killing them. Listening to the voices in your head. Let Kaiko haunt you in your dreams. Rinse and repeat. You were alright with that. You were more than satisfied with what you have.

You’d taken a break from doing missions a year ago. You had a breakdown a year ago, when Suguru left. And you didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of it. You didn’t want to see anyone. Not even your own mother. Yet your grandfather, Zenin Naobito, had visited you one day. And your whole world started to spin. You were forced to return to the Zenin clan against your will and an ultimatum was forced.

The prospect of being wed to your uncle Naoya to secure your position as Fushiguro Megumi's guardian had been a nightmare. You had always hated him, as much as you did every member of your father’s clan. But you understood why it was Naoya. All your other uncles were already married. Jinichi was not one to take another wife after he had brutalized the other with deadly childbirths. Naoya was seen as grandfather’s heir by the clan elders. And you knew that it was only a matter of time before they sprung up a trap.

You sat in the grand hall of the Zenin estate, the tension in the air palpable. Your grandfather, Zenin Naobito, was seated across from you, his stern gaze fixed on you with the weight of his authority. The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of the traditional paper screens and the faint sound of the wind outside. This was a meeting you had been dreading, but it was inevitable.

Naobito's eyes bore into yours as he finally spoke, his voice cold and commanding. "You know why you're here," he began, each word carefully measured. "There are matters that need to be resolved, and you are at the center of them."

You nodded, already anticipating the ultimatum that was about to be laid out before you. "I understand, Grandfather."

He leaned forward slightly, his expression hardening. "Your duty is clear. Marry Naoya and solidify our clan's future. In return, I will let you have the responsibility to take care of Toji's children.”

Your mouth felt dried. “And if I refuse?”

“If you refuse, well it is a simple matter. Jinichi will take over their guardianship. Considering Tsumiki is his daughter and Megumi is Toji's son, he has every right to them."

Your heart sank at his words. The idea of marrying your uncle Naoya was repulsive, but the thought of losing Megumi and Tsumiki to Jinichi's care was unbearable. He was brutal. Children had no need to be around such a man like him.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I agree to marry Naoya, I will be allowed to take care of Megumi and Tsumiki?"

Naobito nodded curtly. "Yes, that is the arrangement. Fulfill your duty, and the children will be yours to care for. Refuse, and you will have no say in their upbringing."

You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your emotions in check. "Grandfather, Naoya is not a suitable match for me. He is—"

"Megumi Fushiguro is the future of this clan, but he needs guidance." Naobito interrupted sharply. "Naoya will be his mentor. You will marry him and fulfill your role. This is not a matter of personal preference, but of duty and honor."

You looked down, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on you. "But what about the children? Naoya may be their biological relative, but he does not care for them. He sees them as nothing more than tools for the clan's power."

Naobito's eyes narrowed. "That is not your concern. Naoya will raise them according to the clan's traditions. Your concern should be with your duty to this family and help him in doing that duty."

You felt a surge of anger and frustration. "My duty is also to those children. They deserve a loving home, not to be treated as pawns in a power struggle."

Naobito's expression softened, but only slightly. "You have always been headstrong. As much as your father. But understand this: the clan's future depends on this marriage. Sacrifices must be made for the greater good."

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "And what about my happiness? What about the children's happiness?"

He sighed, as if the question was a nuisance. "Happiness is a luxury we cannot afford. This is the way of the Zenin clan. You were born into this family, and with that comes responsibility."

You looked into your grandfather's eyes, searching for any sign of empathy or understanding. There was none. Only cold, unyielding resolve.

"Grandfather," you said quietly, "I cannot marry Naoya. I will not subject myself or the children to a life of misery."

Naobito's eyes flashed with anger. "You dare defy me?"

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with determination. "I will do whatever it takes to protect Megumi and Tsumiki. Even if it means defying you."

For a moment, the room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then Naobito spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "You will regret this decision. You are turning your back on your family, on your duty. And the consequences will be severe."

You stood up, your resolve unwavering. "I accept whatever consequences come my way. But I will not let those children suffer because of the Zenin clan's ambition."

And for that you were imprisoned, a room which was made to restrict your power. You consistently refused, no matter what brutalizing, backhanded thing they do to you. You even refused to eat, refused to drink. You refused everything — if they weren’t going to be fair to you and just let you care for Toji’s children.

It was then that Gojo Satoru had intervened and did what he did best—forcing the higher-ups' hands and rescuing you from a fate you dreaded. Satoru's intervention was nothing short of a masterstroke, a bold and daring move that sent shockwaves through the higher echelons of the jujutsu world.

It was after all within the Zenin’s rights to do as they pleased with one of their own. A Gojo intervening in the matter of another clan was downright disrespectful. A harmful prospect at that — which sets precedence.

But he could hardly give a chance to care. With his unparalleled charisma and influence, he wielded his power like a weapon, manipulating the strings of fate to orchestrate your liberation from the clutches of Zenin Manor.

His actions were swift and decisive, catching even the most astute observers off guard. With a calculated precision, he leveraged his connections and resources to launch a daring rescue mission, breaching the formidable defenses of Zenin Manor with ease.

For Satoru, there was no obstacle too great, no challenge too daunting. He moved with a sense of purpose and determination, fueled by his unwavering commitment to your well-being.

With each step he took, he drew closer to his goal, his resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.And when he finally emerged victorious, cradling you in his arms as he carried you to safety, it was a moment of triumph unlike any other. The weight of your freedom hung heavy in the air.

When he finally laid eyes on you after a year apart, locked inside the oppressive confines of Zenin Manor, his heart shattered at the sight before him. He looked towards Zenin Naobito. He had never been more furious with the old geezer than he was at that moment. He knew that the Zenin were cruel, but to do this to you? He was just too angry. Too angry to control himself.

You, once vibrant and full of life, were now a mere shadow of your former self, your spirit broken and your body bearing the scars of untold suffering. The time in captivity had taken their toll, leaving you gaunt and hollow-eyed, a mere shell of the person he remembered.

For Satoru, seeing you in such a sorry state was a gut-wrenching experience. His heart ached with a pain he had never known as he took in the sight of you, imprisoned within the walls of Zenin Manor, your once-bright eyes now dulled with resignation.

With a surge of raw emotion coursing through him, Satoru's cursed energy went haywire, crackling and sparking with unrestrained fury. In that moment, all he could think of was freeing you from this prison, tearing down the walls that held you captive and whisking you away to safety.

Without a second thought, he gathered you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the suffocating darkness of Zenin Manor. His heart pounded with a fierce determination as he vowed to protect you, to shield you from any further harm.

In that moment, as he held you close, Satoru knew that he would stop at nothing to ensure your safety and well-being. For you were not just his senpai, but the person, besides Suguru, that cared about him most. And as he carried you out of Zenin Manor — all he could do was stare at you. Hoping your lilac eyes would meet his.

There was little chance he would let you return there. Not ever in his life would he let you set foot in Zenin manor again. He had taken you to your maternal home, Mikoto manor. Your aunt Arisu was there to welcome you, her face contorted to a mixture of relief and worry. She had ordered servants to call for healers.

Satoru whispered things to you as you lay there in his arms. But you were too weak to register everything. The stress and exhaustion had taken their toll, and it had taken a few days for you to get some rest, to gather your strength. The dark shadows under your eyes had slowly begun to fade, and the tight knot of anxiety in your chest had started to loosen.

When you finally awoke from the haze of exhaustion, the first sight that greeted you was Satoru, sitting by your bedside. His usual playful demeanor was replaced by an expression of deep concern, his cerulean eyes full of layers of worry and tenderness.

"You’re awake," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your weary soul. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "How do you feel?"

You blinked, still disoriented, but the warmth in his gaze anchored you."Satoru? What?....”

“Shhhh, how are you feeling?”

“I feel... better.” You whisper to him. “It seems….you got me out of Zenin manor. Thank you."

He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Good. You made us all worried."

You tried to sit up, but he gently pressed you back down. "Easy. You need to rest."

"I know," you said, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But I feel like I've slept for days."

"You have," Satoru replied, his smile widening a bit. "But you needed it. You’ve been through a lot."

You looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his concern. "Thank you, Satoru. For everything. I don't know what I would have done without you."

His expression softened, and he took your hand in his, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to thank me. I’d do anything for you."

For a moment, you were silent, just soaking in his presence. The warmth of his hand, the steady reassurance in his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the cold, calculating environment of the Zenin estate.

“How is—”

“I found them.” Satoru says to you, as though trying to reassure you. “They’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Your eyes reflected in relief. “Oh.”

“Yeah, made sure to hide them in a safe house, y’know?” He smiles at you. “Don’t worry too much, Genmei–senpai.”

You hadn’t heard him call you senpai in a while. You haven’t seen him in a while either. But the sound was refreshing. To hear him talk to you a little with relief. When he called you senpai then, it was because he wanted to play with you. Gojo Satoru was quite a brat. Granted, he’s still bashful about it. Still, you were surprised he was using it more respectfully. You sighed, letting your body release the tension.

"I was so scared," you admitted quietly. "I thought... I thought I was going to lose Megumi and Tsumiki. I thought I was going to lose everything there."

Satoru’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes blazing with determination. "You won’t lose them, senpai. I won’t let that happen. I’ll protect you. We’ll protect them together."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. "Together."

Just then, the door to your room creaked open, and your aunt Arisu peeked in, a relieved smile on her face. "Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling, dear?"

You smiled back at her. "Much better, Aunt Arisu. Thank you for taking care of me."

She walked in, her steps light and graceful. "Nonsense, darling. It’s what family is for. Your mother is on her way, and she’s been worried sick about you."

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for causing your family so much worry. "I know. I’m sorry."

Arisu shook her head, coming to sit on the other side of your bed. "Don’t apologize. You did what you had to do. And now, you’re safe."

You glanced at Satoru, who gave you a reassuring nod. "Yes," you agreed. "Now I’m safe."

From then on, you just let yourself have time to recover from what you endured in Zenin manor. Satoru would be on his regular missions every other day, but he would make time to see you. He brings new sweets he finds and likes at times. You didn’t like sweets. But the more he brought to you, the more you felt in tune with him in liking them. Sometimes he and you would just take a stroll around the manor gardens, losing your minds to the mundane sound of birds chirping.

As he and Suguru used to do, he’d rest his head on your lap and just take some much needed rest he couldn’t. He’s too overstimulated most days, you know that much. He was always using his powers around everyone and everything.

Here with you, he seems to find some peace. Some relief. There was no need for Infinity around you. There was no need to be around walls between you. He could just be himself around you. And you wouldn’t judge him.

There was a day you couldn’t get out of bed. The pain on your lower back was too much. Jinichi was too rough with his brute force when you were back in Zenin manor. And so you just stayed in your room, gathering your strength.Satoru kept you company, with some conversation and for a while, that had led you to ignore the pain.

Your mother had finally arrived, her face etched with worry but also relief at seeing you safe. Aunt Arisu hovered nearby, her usual grace and composure a comforting presence. You both looked at your mother and aunt. Satoru looked at you as your face contorted with concern. You could tell that if it was the two of them, it was unbearable news. His hand still holding yours, his cerulean eyes filled with unwavering resolve to protect you.

"Now that we’re all here," Aunt Arisu began, her tone gentle but firm, "we need to discuss the next steps.”

“For what?” Your face contorted into confusion.

“We can’t let you go back to the Zenin clan, and we need to find a way to secure Megumi and Tsumiki’s guardianship."

Your mother nodded, her eyes reflecting the same determination. "Arisu is right. We need a permanent solution, one that will protect you and the children."

“Yes, I know.” You retorted back. “That’s why we’re thinking about what to do.”

“We already have a solution to suggest.” Your mother whispers, looking at you softly.

You looked between them, confusion and apprehension swirling in your mind. "What do you mean?"

Arisu exchanged a glance with your mother and then with Satoru. "We think you should get married."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Married?"

"Yes," your mother continued. "To Satoru. It would remove your status as a Zenin and give you a new standing. With Satoru’s influence, he could pressure the higher-ups to let you take guardianship of Megumi and Tsumiki. You’re their aunt, and Satoru would be their uncle by marriage. It would make things much easier."

You felt a wave of apprehension wash over you. "But… I’m three years older than Satoru. I don’t want to force him into this. It’s not fair to him."

Satoru’s grip on your hand suddenly tightened, and he leaned closer, his bright blue eyes locking onto your lilac orbs with an intensity that took your breath away. "It’s fine," he said softly but firmly. "I want to do this. Not just to protect you, but because I care about you. This isn’t just a duty for me."

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and determination in them. "Satoru, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to tie yourself to me just because of this situation."

He chuckled, a soft, genuine sound that made your heart swell. "You think this is just about duty? I’ve wanted to protect you for so long, senpai. Before all this happened. I care about you…..so. I don’t think this would be an issue, senpai.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words. "But… are you sure? This is a big decision."

"I’m sure," Satoru said, his voice steady. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to marry you, and I want to protect Megumi and Tsumiki. We can do this together."

Your mother and Aunt Arisu watched the exchange with hopeful expressions. "It’s the best solution," your mother said gently. "And it’s clear that you two care deeply for each other."

“You don’t have to love each other now.” Arisu says to both of you, smiling. “But well….that grows with time. It’s enough to care now.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settling over you. But as you looked into Satoru’s eyes, you felt a sense of peace and certainty. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He says to you, his smile ever so tender.

"Alright," you said softly. "Let’s do it. Let’s get married."

Aunt Arisu smiled, her eyes shining with approval. "Good. We’ll make the arrangements. It will be a small ceremony, just family. You only need witnesses, after all.”

Satoru squeezed your hand, his eyes reflecting his relief and happiness. "Thank you," he whispered. "For trusting me."

You smiled back at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you, Satoru. For everything."

Satoru broke the silence first, his voice soft but laced with his usual confidence. "So, what do you think? Not exactly the wedding you imagined, huh?"

You glanced at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's not the wedding I imagined, no. Well….I didn’t expect one. But it's for a good thing. Thank you, Satoru, for everything."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. The simple gesture was grounding, a reminder of the bond that had brought you to this moment. "I couldn't let them force you into that marriage. With Naoya? Not a chance, senpai! You deserve better than that."

"Hm...all for the best. For Tsumiki and Megumi too."

He grinned. "Exactly! Tsumiki and Megumi deserve a guardian who genuinely cares about them, y’know? Not someone using ‘em for power."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude and affection for the man beside you. "I never expected to marry at all, let alone under these circumstances. But I'm glad it's you. I know we'll make this work, no matter what."

Satoru's cerulean eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "We'll figure it out together. This marriage, it's not just about duty or obligation. It's about us, and what we want for our future."

A silence settled between you, comfortable and filled with unspoken promises. The magnitude of what lay ahead was daunting, but with Satoru by your side, it felt manageable.

“You know you don’t have to call me senpai anymore, right?”

He blinks at you. “But aren’t you still my senpai?”

“....I am your wife now, aren’t I?” You felt your ears turn red at those words. You look at him shyly. “You…you can call me Genmei. Or….or whatever you prefer.”

“Then, I’lll just call you wife!”

“S-satoru—”

"So… wife!" Satoru said after a moment, a mischievous glint in his eyes against his dark glasses. "What do you think this marriage is going to be like? Any rules you want to set right away?"

You felt yourself turn redder than before. "You want to go with that right away?"

He grinned, leaning in closer. "Absolutely. We need to set the ground rules. Like, I get the right side of the bed, and you’re responsible for all the snacks during movie nights."

You looked at him stupefied but then you laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension and filling the room with warmth.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile. "Oh, really? Well, in that case, I get control of the remote, and you’re on dish duty for the rest of the year."

Satoru feigned shock, clutching his chest dramatically. "Harsh! But fair. Deal. And one more thing – you have to kiss me goodnight every single night."

Your mouth opened agape as you shook your head, blushing. "Absolutely not!"

"Eh! Why not? Are my lips not kissable?"

"T-that's not what—"

"I'm a good kisser, y'know! You'll waste my talents if you deny me."

"You drive a hard bargain, Gojo Satoru." You grumbled at him. "....Only in the cheek."

"But I want it to be on my lips!"

"Well that's not what I want!"

Satoru sighed dramatically. "But I want more than that."

"Well too bad, that's all you're getting from me."

He smirked, winking at you. "Well, you can't blame a husband for trying. You'll say yes one day!"

"You wish." You grumbled.

"Anything else?" His dark rimmes glasses lowered as he leaned close to you. "Anything my sugars wants?"

"S-sugars.....Satoru, really?"

"Hey, its either that or wife."

"Oh whatever." You gave into him. You looked at him. "What do you expect from the marriage?"

He looked back at you. "Well, what do you expect from me?"

You shake your head at him. “I just…..there should be no rules. Let's be honest with each other. And let's take things one day at a time.”

“I agree,” He nodded at you. “There’s still so much more I have to know about you, y’know?”

“I’ll tell you everything you wanna know.”

“Same here.” He grins at you. “Just ask first, ‘kay? So I’ll know what to say.”

“And if you wanna see other women, I’m fine with that—”

He suddenly frowns at your words. He looked almost like a child about to throw a tantrum. “Why would I wanna see other women? I’m married to you! I said my vows and everything!”

“It’s not like we’re in love, Satoru!” You rubbed the small of your neck, feeling your face warm at his words. You purse your lips at him.

Satoru leaned back, a playful smirk still dancing on his lips. "Yet," he said with a wink. "Who knows? We might just surprise ourselves."

You hit his hand lightly, turning away as you grew into scarlet. “You’re unbearable.”

“Well, I am an optimist. One man can dream, y’know?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't suppress a small smile. "Always the optimist, huh?"

"Of course," he replied, his tone shifting to something more sincere. "Besides, love or not, we're a team now. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect you and the kids."

Your heart softened at his words, and you felt a rush of gratitude and affection for him. "Thank you, Satoru. I just... I don't want you to feel trapped."

He reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Hey, if anyone's going to be trapped, I couldn't think of anyone better to be stuck with. Besides, this isn't just about duty. It's about making sure you, Megumi, and Tsumiki are safe and happy. And if that means playing house and pretending to be a perfect husband, well, I'm up for the challenge."

You laughed, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. "Alright then, husband. Let's see if you can live up to that title."

Satoru grinned, leaning in to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Challenge accepted, wife. Now, about those snacks..."

You shake your head at him.

But a smile echoes on your lips.

You were stuck with this man for life.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The good life is just ahead of you both.

epilogue

Years later, the house was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter as you, Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki tackled the task of spring cleaning. It was a rare day when all of you were together, now that Satoru rarely has days off. So, on his rare day off, he was happy to clean with you guys.

So far, you can say that the atmosphere was light and joyful. Today’s task for you to clean was the attic. You were tasked with rummaging through old boxes, so you do — but that’s when Tsumiki stumbled upon an old photo album.

"Hey, what's this?" Tsumiki asked, pulling the dusty album from a box labeled "Memories."

Satoru's cerulean eyes lit up as he recognized it. "Oh, that's our wedding album! We haven't looked at that in ages."

With curiosity piqued, everyone gathered around as Tsumiki opened the album with genuine care. The first photo was a beautiful, traditional shot of you and Satoru in your wedding kimonos. You looked serene and elegant, while Satoru wore a proud grin. You were relatively tall, but Satoru was just even taller. And bigger, even when he looked that slim.

"Aww, you both look so lovely!" Tsumiki swooned, her eyes sparkling.

Megumi, on the other hand, looked mildly horrified. "Do we have to do this?"

Ignoring Megumi’s grumbling, Tsumiki flipped to the next page. The following photos were less formal: Satoru making silly faces during the ceremony, you playfully swatting him with your fan, and the two of you attempting to feed each other cake, which resulted in frosting smearing across Satoru's face.

Tsumiki burst into laughter. "Oh my gosh, Satoru-san, you look ridiculous!"

Satoru chuckled, unabashed. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting."

Megumi cringed as he saw a photo of Satoru posing dramatically with a bouquet, striking a superhero pose. "This is so embarrassing," he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Tsumiki, flipping through the album, came across a photo of Satoru mid-dance, his kimono flaring out around him, and you were laughing so hard you were bent over. "This one is my favorite," she declared. "You both look so happy."

"That was a fun moment," you reminisced, leaning into Satoru. "We were trying to do a traditional dance, but Satoru kept improvising."

"Improvising?" Satoru protested playfully. "I was enhancing the dance!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "I can’t believe we’re related to you."

"Oh, come on, Megumi," Satoru said, ruffling the boy's hair. "You know you love me."

Megumi sighed but didn’t move away. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As you continued flipping through the album, the laughter and stories flowed, filling the room with warmth. It was a reminder of how far you had all come as a family, through the challenges and the joys. Even in the midst of your duties as jujutsu sorcerers, moments like these were precious.

In the end, it wasn’t just the silly wedding photos that made the day special. It was the shared memories, the love and support that bound you all together. And as you closed the album and set it aside, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together—just as you always had.

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