#honestly the main problem with the official is his head

[xzowxzowx]

tried my hand at a quick revamp of the recent tord plush. I've never designed a plush before so please forgive me.

also some accessories for the lil guy..

[eternalguk]

Pink Hearts & Black Clouds | jjk. — teaser

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : tbc.

↠ Warnings : each drabble will outline specific warnings (the teaser has slightly suggestive content at the end)

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here is the official teaser for PHBC 🫶🏻! A small snippet to provide you a glimpse of our strikingly different, but beautiful couple. I hope you can follow this series with me 🤍 I will be trying my best to actively update, so you don’t have to wait too long between each drabble 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

It was hard to miss the two of you, even in a crowd.

First? Let’s talk about Jungkook first.

Jeon Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook with his tattooed arms and eternal scowl, which is carved so intricately into his beautiful face, looking as though he belongs on a concert poster for an underground band.

And next? Next, there was you.

Y/L/N Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N who is a vision in baby pink. With your sparkling, innocent eyes and glossy lips, you are a walking daydream who is entirely too bright for the man standing beside you.

Together? Together, you don’t just turn heads. You stop traffic.

No one can deny that you are a good-looking couple, even if most people couldn’t figure out how it all began let alone how it works!

A moody grunge college student and his bubbly, glittering girlfriend? It was the kind of contrast that had people whispering behind their hands. The kind of contrast that got you second glances and furrowed brows wherever you went.

“Are you done staring at me like that?” Jungkook grumbles, his tone flat as he catches your gaze lingering on him for what felt like the umpteenth time that evening.

The two of you were studying in the library. Well… Jungkook was trying to. You? You had busied yourself with organising your makeup bag following the TikTok you had just watched.

You don’t even blink. “Nope,” you say brightly, popping the “p” far too much for Jungkook’s liking.

“You’re too pretty not to look at, Koo,” you croon. “It’s a problem, honestly. What are the rest of us supposed to do when you look like that?”

You sigh, dreamily gazing at the man before you.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, the sharp piercings along his brow catching the light, but there was no hiding the faint pink creeping up his neck. “You’re irritating.”

“You love it,” you shoot back, shifting your chair inevitably closer until you were arm-to-arm with him.

Jungkook gulps, his dark gaze dropping to your lips, like he couldn’t help himself. He stands up, gathering his things as well as yours so you could head home.

There was no way he was going to get a single thing revised here, and you would eventually end up distracting other students around you as you always do. The fact that you still weren’t banned from the library simply shocked Jungkook.

Furrowing your brows, you follow Jungkook’s moves, lips forming a pout as you notice him packing away.

You weren’t making it easy for Jungkook. You never did.

“I don’t want to go home,” you begin, tilting your head as you try to figure out why Jungkook was packing everything away. Organising your pastel highlighters was next on your list of things to do.

“Didn’t ask,” Jungkook mutters.

Leaning up on the tips of your toes with a slow, mischievous grin. “Oh! Are we going home to do… you know what?”

Jungkook chuckles at your use of language. The day you would openly say sex in public? Well on that day, Jungkook… he had already decided that he would buy you all your makeup wish list.

He was currently torn between letting you win or pushing you away just to make a point, but in the end, you always won.

The small, almost shy grin tugging at the corner of your boyfriend’s lips told you everything you needed to know.

“Come here,” he mutters, giving in as his hand slipped behind your neck, his thumb brushing against your jaw.

Jungkook kisses you softly at first, like he wasn’t sure he should be doing it here in the middle of the crowd.

However, you are quick in helping him forget his surroundings the second you make a sweet little sound against his lips.

When Jungkook pulls back, just slightly, your lips are slightly less glossy and swollen. your lashes flutter as you blinks up at him, eyes glistening with need. He exhales sharply, like you’d knocked the air out of his lungs.

“You’re impossible,” he says in a low tone, shaking his head and laughing, knowing you’re turned on. “Can never go even an hour without wanting to be fucked.”

“And you’re smitten,” you tease, not even acknowledging Jungkook’s comment because there simply was no denying.

Instead, you press a kiss to his cheek, just to push his buttons further.

Jungkook’s scoff is immediate. He pulls back and starts slowly heading towards the exit.

Your brows knit into a tangle of furrows again and the infamous pout returns. Where was Jungkook going… without holding your hand?

“Come on then, doll,” Jungkook begins, pausing to turn around and beckon you towards him. “Standing there isn’t going to make you cum.”

You giggle, skipping towards your boyfriend as your mind begins to drift towards filth.

Oh, how you can’t wait to tie your delicate, baby pink bow around Jungkook’s bicep, his strong arm coiling possessively around your neck as you ride him, completely at his mercy.

I can’t wait to share more of this series with you <3 please comment below / send an ask if you’d like to be on the taglist !

[iayos]

𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐄𝐖𝐖) !

jjk boys and their icks… because no man is perfect…

jjk boys x implied fem!reader

cw : men being gross, slight nsfw in nanami’s part, very mild misogyny if you squint in megumi’s part, this post was literally just so i could rant kinda

a / n : long time no see… not much to say other than i’ve been busy !!! anyways hope you enjoy :)

yuji itadori - bad grammar

giving him the tamest one tbh because he’s such a sweetheart </3 idk why but i feel like he just has such shitty grammar… like he’s smart ! just not when it comes to grammar. for example, he mixes up his to, too, and two’s, his there’s, and don’t get me started on your vs you’re :/ again he’s the sweetest boy ever ! it’s just the fact he probably failed his lit classes…

megumi fushiguro - “females”…

i was so close to giving this to satoru but i didn’t cause he has shoko to hold him down, megumi on the other hand… look, i don’t think he’d say it in front of girls, but to other dudes, yk ? and i definitely don’t think it’s on purpose to try and be an asshole but it just happens. quickly unlearns it when he says it around maki though.

yuta okkotsu - referring to himself in third person

you guys know how elmo is like, “elmo wants to go to the park,” yeah… yuta does this. and no, it’s not ironically. he definitely thinks it’s cute too and sometimes it is ! but it’s to an extent. like it’s cute the first couple times where he is goes, “yuta loves you,” but then it gets weird and corny when he’s like, “yuta wants to get dinner,” like ermmmm ok…

toge inumaki - fish pics.

as someone who lives in those south i see these OFTEN. for those who don’t know, fish pics are basically when dudes hold up fish they caught while fishing and post pictures of them holding it… i think the main problem with this to me is that a lot of very weird and racist men do it, so that’s why i hate it. anyways i’m 90% sure he has an official art where he’s holding a fish ( i also didn’t know what ick to give him ).

satoru gojo - his height is his whole personality

this shit irks me so bad omg. as someone who’s short ( 5’0 ) and hates seeing other short people make their whole personality their height, it’s even worst when it’s a tall person. satoru is definitely the type to be like, “omg guysss i bumped my head otw hereeee i’m so tallll,” like no you’re just stupid ! he definitely has other icks but this was the main one i could think of… ik he gets on everyone’s nerves.

suguru geto - says “my bad” instead of “im sorry”

another personal one tbh. i hate hate hate when people do this especially if it’s something serious. i remember one time someone pushed me in the mud ( i didn’t fully go on, just my foot ) and i got mud all over my white shoes and they have the audacity to go, “my bad,” like yeah it is your bad lmao. anyways, suguru def does this often especially to shoko. i feel like he’s pretty clumsy and say if shoko’s studying and he knocks over a drink onto her books he’ll say “my bad” and not even attempt to help her clean it up. like dude at least say sorry or something idk ???

nanami kento - calls his dick anything but a dick

“my member” you are grown !!! say dick !!! he does it to be ‘classy’ but like, he is pushing 30 doing this, just say dick. i also think it’s a shame thing ? idk probably hanging out with stsg for most of his teen years rotted his brain so he hates hearing really nasty stuff but he won’t even say penis half the time. like it’s really not that serious nobody wants to call your dick a phallus ( it was also really hard to give him an ick ).

choso - using 🥺 / 🥹

oh BROTHERRRR this one pisses me off. i hate both of those emojis in general but especially when men do it, it’s cornball behavior. like aren’t you supposed to be fighting in wars ? stand up. but i don’t think he has any ill intentions at all, honestly just picks emojis that represent his mood often. however he definitely uses 😂 instead of 😭… sorry choso…

song : ick - lay bankz

[daeniradraconis]

Faceoff with Love - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack Hughes. The NHL’s ultimate manwhore. King of confidence. Untouchable… or at least, that’s what he thought. Until he falls hard.

Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, nothing too wild or serious

Hey, lovelies! 💕 This is Jack's story, the next installment in what I’ve officially named The Hughes Effect Saga—because let’s be real, every brother deserves their own story. I couldn’t resist giving the main characters names since this universe is growing, and honestly, trying to write it without them would’ve been mission impossible. So, just a heads-up: Thea is Luke’s love interest! (Though if you’ve read Age Is Just a Number…Right?, you won’t see her mentioned there, since that one started as a standalone one-shot.) You can read this without reading Age Is Just a Number, but it definitely gives you more background on Jack's story if you do!

Not gonna lie, this one took forever to write. It ended up being 16,472 words and 42 pages in my Word doc—so, yeah… buckle up! 😅

Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it! ❤️

For more fun: masterlist

—-

Jack Hughes, star of the New Jersey Devils, was enjoying a normal morning—until the noises coming from his little brother Luke’s room hijacked his thoughts. Jack had always been supportive of Luke, and he was genuinely happy for him. After all, Luke and his girlfriend had been through a lot—the pressures of the NHL, the relentless fans, and everything in between had made starting their relationship anything but easy. He knew how much effort they both put in to make it work, and he couldn’t help but admire them for it.

But the sounds from the next room? That was a different story. Jack tried to block it out, but it was impossible. The muffled conversations—and those other noises—had a way of seeping into his mind. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that bothered him, though. It was what he’d learned that really threw him off: Luke’s kink.

Some things were best left unsaid, behind closed doors. But there was Luke, sounding way too eager to ask permission for... well, things Jack had no business hearing. It was burned into his brain, and he couldn’t unhear it.

“Yeah, no. Nope. That’s it. I need to get out of here,” Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he kicked off the covers, grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, and yanked it over his head. “I need bleach. For my ears. And my soul.”

A coffee shop seemed like the safest escape—loud espresso machines, the comforting scent of fresh beans… anything to erase whatever the hell he’d just overheard.

As he stepped outside, he let out a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ick of the morning. He had morning skates later anyway, so at least this way, he’d be caffeinated and mentally prepared before hitting the ice.

By the time Jack reached the coffee shop, the tension in his shoulders had finally eased, the crisp morning air doing its job in clearing his head. As he pushed open the door, the familiar chime jingled, welcoming him into the warm, cozy space. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of people tapping away at laptops, a few others lost in their books, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

Jack stepped into line, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he took in the room. He could feel it—the shift in energy, the way conversations quieted just slightly, the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. He walked in like he owned the place. And in a way, he kind of did. Not literally, of course, but the moment he stepped inside, it was obvious—people noticed.

A couple of girls in the corner glanced up, whispering behind their hands. The old man at the corner table did a double take. A guy in line nudged his friend, a knowing smirk passing between them. Jack thrived on it. The attention, the recognition—it was something he was used to, and he had no problem leaning into it.

His gaze swept over the room, naturally lingering on the women who were stealing glances at him. A cocky smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and just for fun, he threw in a wink. A playful smile for good measure. Yeah, he knew the effect he had. Confidence? Absolutely. Arrogance? Maybe just a little. But it was the kind of charm that turned heads, and really, who could blame him? Jack Hughes wasn’t just another guy in the crowd—he was the one people noticed.

And he loved every second of it.

Jack was used to this. It was familiar. Easy. But then—he saw her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t whispering about him, or sneaking glances, or batting her lashes like so many others did. She was behind the counter, focused on her work, crafting drinks with effortless precision, her movements fluid and practiced. There was something about her—a quiet warmth, a presence that made the entire room feel at ease. She wasn’t just beautiful; it was the way she carried herself. Feminine yet self-assured, graceful but never trying too hard.

Jack felt it immediately—the pull. Like gravity.

His heart did this stupid little stutter, and before he even realized it, he was just standing there. Staring. What the hell?

This wasn’t him. Jack Hughes didn’t freeze up over a girl. He’d had flings, fun, no-strings-attached moments. He knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to walk away before things got complicated. But right now? None of that seemed to matter.

Get it together, Hughes, he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

But then, as if she’d felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met.

And in that instant, something shifted.

It was subtle. Electric. She had this knowing look on her face, like she could see right through him. Like she already had him figured out before he could even open his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack Hughes wasn’t the one in control.

Jack leaned on the counter, trying to play it cool, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. When she finally looked up, their eyes met, and for a second, the usual confidence he wore like a second skin seemed to fade.

She raised an eyebrow as she set her hands on the counter, a half-smirk forming on her lips. "Can I help you?"

Jack blinked, catching himself. "Uh, that depends. You serving coffee... or are you in the business of making guys fall in love too?" he said with a grin, though it came out a little less smooth than he intended.

She didn’t even flinch. "Just coffee. And bad pickup lines? They cost extra."

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Brutal." He leaned in, dropping the cocky act just a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll take a latte. And a blueberry muffin. Gotta keep it classic, you know?"

"Classic? More like predictable," she replied, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she started on his drink.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You analyzing me now?"

She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. "Not really. Just guessing you’re the type who thinks a smirk and a couple of cheesy lines will get you anything you want."

Jack froze for a moment, a little taken aback. "Whoa, right in the heart," he said, putting his hand over his chest in mock offense.

She didn’t even look at him this time. "You’ll survive. Might even build some character," she added casually as she reached for the milk steamer.

Jack smirked, his confidence flickering back. "Character, huh? I’ve got plenty. Some might even say too much."

She glanced up then, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Yeah? And who exactly are these 'some'?"

He leaned in a little closer, almost leaning on the counter now. "Oh, you know... fans, teammates, my mom... definitely my mom." He winked.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her fingers expertly crafting the latte. "Uh-huh. Sure, sounds legit."

Jack leaned back a bit, watching her. There was something about how she didn’t let him off the hook. It was... refreshing. "So what’s it gonna take?" he asked, trying to play it cool again.

"For what?" She finally met his gaze, eyebrows raised.

"For you to admit you’re already a little bit in love with me," he said with a teasing grin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She slid his drink across the counter without a hint of hesitation. "Jack Hughes, right?"

His grin widened. "So you do know me."

"Oh, I know of you," she said, turning away to grab a napkin, clearly unfazed. "You’re a good player."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Great player," he corrected her, but his tone was light, playful.

She looked over her shoulder, deadpan. "On the ice."

Jack laughed softly, the sting of her words taking a second to hit. "Damn, alright. Tough crowd."

She smiled, but it wasn’t the soft, flirty smile he expected. It was knowing. Like she already saw right through him. "Seen your type before. You walk in, flash a smile, throw out a line or two, and think the world’s just gonna roll over for you."

Jack leaned in again, his grin slipping into something more genuine. "And yet, here you are... still talking to me. Guess you must like it."

She hummed, considering this, before turning back to the machine. "Or maybe I just like watching a guy slowly realize he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is."

Jack’s smirk returned, and he picked up his drink. "So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?"

She winked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, Hughes. You have no idea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his muffin. "I’ve got to run. Practice later... but I’ll be back. You’re an interesting one." He winked, letting the last word linger a little longer than usual.

“Do not threaten me, Hughes,” she shot back, her voice dry but that little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack turned to leave, his mind still buzzing from their conversation. He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked out the door, but this time, it wasn’t the usual adrenaline of a win. It was something else.

Maybe... just maybe, she was right. He was used to being in control, but with her? Yeah, she wasn’t having any of it.

—

The ice cream shop had a laid-back atmosphere, with a few customers scattered across the tables, quietly enjoying their frozen treats. The soft hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the low buzz of the freezer in the corner. The casual, easygoing vibe was the perfect backdrop for Jack to make his usual, attention-grabbing announcement.

“So, I met a girl,” he said casually, his grin practically glowing with satisfaction.

Luke didn’t even look up, already bracing himself for whatever absurdity was coming. Jack had that look—an announcement, followed by something outlandish. Thea, however, shot him a pointed glance, arching a brow in that skeptical way she did so well.

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered, barely containing her amusement.

Jack scoffed. “Wow, way to be supportive.”

Thea smirked, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. “No, it’s just... every time you drop that line, I know I’m about to hear some delusional story about how she’s already swooning over you.” She shrugged with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is usually true. Flash that smile, and bam! Girls are basically tripping over themselves for you.”

Jack leaned back, clearly relishing the attention. “Exactly. It’s a gift.”

Thea rolled her eyes and casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, it’s just an ego boost. You’re like a baby with a bottle—constantly sucking up the attention.”

Jack, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his spoon. “Can you blame me? I mean, why not appreciate what I’ve got?”

Luke looked up now, giving Jack a resigned look. He was ready for the same tired routine. “Jack, have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—not every girl is going to fall for your whole act?”

Jack shot him a glance like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “Why would I think that? It’s never happened.” He paused, then added with a touch of uncertainty, “Okay, she’s a tough one, but she’ll come around. I think she just likes to play hard to get.” He could see the truth in her eyes—she wasn’t interested—but admitting that wasn’t an option. Not with his brother and Thea around.

Thea snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, the delusion’s strong with this one.”

Jack leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers on the table with a confident smirk. “I’m not delusional, I’m just a realist. And the reality is... I’m me.” He paused for effect. “And I don’t lose.”

Thea let out a dramatic laugh, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What’s so funny?”

Thea took another bite of her cone, her grin widening. “You. Thinking you’re untouchable. I love the confidence, but one day, some girl’s going to make you look like a fool.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for a shot with me? I could walk out of here and just point at someone, and they'd be all over me.”

Luke, who had been watching the exchange unfold, finally spoke up. “Yeah, except for this one. I’m guessing she’s got a little more sense than that.”

Jack groaned, dramatically rubbing his face with his hand and shooting Luke an exasperated "you little shit" look. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like I don’t have options. I’m Jack Hughes guys—the same guy who got a date with three different girls at last week’s game.”

Thea rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, that’s really a sign of emotional maturity.” She shot Luke a knowing look.

Luke just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “If Jack’s ego ever took a hit, we'd probably need a whole therapy session.”

Jack flashed a smug grin, fully aware they were kind of right. “Ego? What ego? I’m just stating the facts.”

Thea leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. State your facts. But you’re missing one thing, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

She tilted her head, clearly loving the moment. “This girl doesn’t want you.”

Jack’s smile faltered just a touch, but he quickly recovered. “Everybody wants me.”

Thea shook her head, the smirk never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack jumped in before she could.

“Okay, maybe except you!” He threw his hands up in mock frustration. “But that’s not my charm’s fault. You just have a thing for younger guys, so I never stood a chance. You pedo…”

Thea’s cheeks flushed, and she slapped his arm lightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Jack, you can’t call me that, you arrogant prick! Show some respect to your elders!”

Jack smirked, unfazed. “Oh, yes, yes… sorry, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how Thea had grown into herself. At first, their six-year age gap had made her uneasy, but Jack, being Jack, never passed up a chance to remind her of it. Luke knew Jack played this game on purpose—his teasing made Thea realize the age gap wasn’t as big of a deal as she’d thought. And over time, she’d become more confident, even starting to enjoy Jack’s dark humor. Of course, she’d never admit it, and Luke was thankful for that. Jack didn’t need any more ego boosts.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Luke muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself for the inevitable chaos. It wasn’t a prediction—it was a certainty. Jack wasn’t going to let this girl slip away, he new that.

Jack waved him off, though his signature, idiotic grin only grew wider. “Relax, Lukey. I’m unstoppable. She’s going to like me. Trust me.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temples as he massaged his forehead. “Ohhh, this is going to be such a disaster.”

Jack finished off his ice cream, still blissfully unaware of the train wreck he was about to walk into. “You two are the worst. But mark my words, she’s going to like me.”

Thea winked at him. “No, we’re just not here to feed your delusion, Jacky. You could use a reality check every once in a while.”

Jack rolled his eyes, the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. “You know what, Lukey? Maybe you should upgrade her to someone a little younger…”

“JACK!” Luke and Thea shouted in unison, but Jack only laughed, clearly finding his own joke far too hilarious.

— 

Jack pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell ringing through the night air, but tonight, it sounded more hollow than usual.

It was late—too late—the kind of late when the world seems to shrink into itself, wrapped in the silence of the night. The air carried the warm scent of coffee and sweet pastries, but Jack barely noticed. His mind was still spinning from the game. The Devils had lost, and his mood mirrored the dark sky outside—heavy, empty, and far too cold. Yet, despite the bitterness of defeat lingering in his chest, there was something else that kept nagging at him.

He wanted to see her.

The girl behind the counter.

It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name. But ever since the game ended—ever since he’d sat in the locker room, listening to Nico’s half-hearted attempts at positivity—his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced around, expecting the usual warmth and buzz of conversation that made the place feel so cozy. But tonight was different.

The lights were dim, and the usual chatter had faded—most likely because it was just two minutes to closing, and the last of the customers had trickled out.

Jack’s eyes immediately found her behind the counter. The girl from before.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted, just slightly—a brief flicker of annoyance before her face went completely neutral. He could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, especially not this late.

Jack leaned against the counter, flashing his trademark easy smile. “Hey there.”

She looked up, the briefest flicker of recognition crossing her face before it disappeared. She sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood. "You again," she muttered under her breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "What do you want this time?"

Jack grinned, undeterred by her tone. “Actually, I realized I never got your name last time.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Seriously? You came all the way back just for my name?” She paused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must be pretty special, huh?”

Jack shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guess I was too busy trying to charm you last time. But hey, I did promise I’d come back.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “So now that I’m here… what’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed some fresh milk from under the counter. “It’s Anja,” she said flatly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the name. “Anja, huh? Definitely sounds foreign.”

Anja shot him a dry look, hands almost slamming the milk into the fridge. “Yep. My dad’s German, my mom’s from New Jersey. Pretty exotic, right?”

Jack’s grin faltered for a moment, surprised. “Wait—your dad’s from Germany? That’s… interesting.” He paused, then added with a laugh. “That’s one combo I didn’t expect. My buddy Nico’s German too. He was born in Switzerland.”

Anja froze, staring at him. Then blinked slowly. “Wait—what?”

Jack, clearly proud of his random connection, rushed on, oblivious to her confusion. “Yeah, Nico’s our captain, super chill guy. Always telling me I should visit him in Switzerland one summer. We haven’t done it yet, but maybe next year. He’s like a brother to me, honestly. Don’t tell my real brothers, though—they’d flip. They get jealous if I even mention Nico.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, already knowing Jack had a habit of overestimating the significance of himself. She stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter. “No, Jack… Switzerland���s not in Germany!” She bent forward slightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Jack blinked, feeling a little foolish, but he wasn’t about to back down. “What? It’s a county in Germany, right? Somewhere near... uh, Munich…?”

Anja’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. She let out a laugh, half-pitying, half-astonished. “Oh my God, Hughes. Switzerland and Germany are two completely different countries.” She shook her head slowly, as if he’d just told her the Earth was flat. “You’re telling me your best friend’s from Switzerland, and you have no idea where the hell is that? Seriously, could you be more American?”

Jack winced, but a grin quickly crept back onto his face, clearly unbothered by his own ignorance. “Hey, don’t forget, you’re half American too, so no need to get all high and mighty on me.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she crossed her arms.“Sweetie, you’re the one who thought Switzerland was a county.”

Jack shrugged with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. “Alright, fine. But I’ll take this as a win. I’ve officially upgraded to the ‘sweetie’ category.”

Anja shook her head, still chuckling at his relentless self-confidence. “A lost cause, Hughes. That’s what you are… a lost cause.” She gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe try opening some books next time. Girls like guys with an actual brain.”

Jack waved it off dismissively. “I’ll let you know I do read. But yeh my brother Quinn is the nerd. Seriously bookish. Let me tell you, it’s not helping him. He’s got zero game.”

Anja flashed a playful grin and leaned in closer, the sudden proximity making Jack’s heart skip a beat. Her perfume—a fresh, orange scent that reminded him of a rain-drenched forest—hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was warm, feminine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but notice the way the scent seemed to pull him closer, but he did his best to keep it together.

She lowered her voice just enough to make him focus. “Or maybe... he’s just a normal guy who doesn’t want every woman’s panties to drop the second he meets them.”

Jack swallowed, his eyes flicking to her mouth, noticing the way her lips parted just slightly as she spoke. He tried to focus, but the air between them was thick with tension, the heat of her so close to him throwing him off. “Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping low, his words teasing as his gaze lingered on her lips. “He just overthinks everything. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow in life, you know?”

Anja shook her head with a soft smile, muttering under her breath as she crossed her arms. “As I said, lost cause,” she added, only half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jack laughed, relieved she was still in the game. He gave her a wink, the confidence in his smile almost irresistible. “But a charming, good-looking, lost cause, right?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips and the amusement in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t really bothered. Her eyes briefly caught his, and for the first time, she noticed how his blue eyes weren’t just any shade—they had this grayish undertone that made them look almost stormy. It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she snapped back to the banter with a playful glint. “You really should’ve opened a geography book sometime. You can’t disrespect your friend this much. At least learn the basics about the poor guy’s life if you want to be his bestie.”

Jack’s grin widened as he leaned in, his light brown wavy hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression a mix of challenge and charm. “Hey—I’d happily let you teach me about Switzerland... or anything else. To be fair, I’d let you do anything with me.”

Anja let out a breathless laugh at his boldness, shaking her head, but her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “Yeah, keep dreaming, Jack.”

Jack winked. “Believe me I will. But seriously—just give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you.” Anja rolled her eyes again, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Whatever, Jack. You can beg, but the answer is still no.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees with all the dramatic flair he could muster, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Anja froze, her eyes wide, the mug she’d been about to place on the shelf still dangling in mid-air. “What the hell are you doing?!” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and something else—amusement, maybe. It was hard to tell.

Jack tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, still kneeling with a grin that stretched wider. “You said I can beg, but I wasn’t really begging yet, was I? Let me show you just how good I can be at it.” He fluttered his lashes and gave her the full-on puppy-dog eyes, cranking up the charm.

Anja stared at him for a solid minute, her brain clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head, stepping back like she needed to regain some personal space from this level of ridiculousness.

Jack, still on his knees, leaned in a bit closer with dramatic theatrics, his grin widening. He clasped his hands together like he was about to give a TED talk.

"Anja, hear me out," he began, voice dripping with over-the-top sincerity. "I know you think I’m a lost cause, but I’m not just any lost cause. I’m your lost cause. And let me tell you why."

He paused for effect, then continued, ticking off his points like a lawyer making a case. "First off, I’m a party. You want a good time? I’m your guy. I can keep things fun, always ready for an adventure, never a dull moment."

He held up a finger, ready to deliver his second point. "Next, I’m a manwhore. And I know what you’re thinking—‘Jack, that sounds bad!’ But no, hear me out. Being a manwhore means experience. I know how to make people laugh, I know how to charm, I know how to—" He shot her a wink. "Well, I know how to do a lot of things. So... experience? Check."

Jack then leaned back dramatically, spreading his arms out. "And, let’s not forget, I’m a hockey player. I’m rich, athletic, and—" he gave her a sly grin, flexing his arm slightly, "look at these muscles. I’ve got the athletic build, which means a lot of energy to spare. And when I’m not working out, I’m probably... in the kitchen making all the mistakes with cooking. And that’s actually a good thing! Because you—" he pointed at her, "You can be the queen of the kitchen, living out your baking dreams while I try not to set the stove on fire. My kitchen? Practically untouched, new condition. You can take over anytime."

Anja rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready for what came next. Jack, still grinning, suddenly pulled his shirt up slightly to expose a well-defined set of abs. His muscles flexed with a little extra dramatic flair. "See this?" He flexed again, holding the pose for a moment. "Hard work, dedication... and honestly, a whole lot of charm. You can’t argue with that, right?"

Anja froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before rushing to Jack. Kneeling beside him, she reached for his shirt, fingers scrambling to grab the fabric. She shot him a look of shock. “Oh my God, Jack, put it down! This is insane.” She yanked at his shirt, but Jack grabbed her wrist. His grip was unshakable, and he used his position on the ground to keep her from pulling away.

He moved closer, a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of his act. “I’m just proving a point. I’m the full package, Anja—athletic, a manwhore, experienced, and a terrible cook. The perfect guy to have fun!”

Anja gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement—as if saying, "Even you don’t believe this." She tried to pull her hand away, but Jack kept his grip tight, holding her wrist steady as his grin grew wider.

Jack shrugged, unfazed by the situation. “Alright, alright, maybe my geography’s a little off. But here’s the deal: You get to be the smart one with all the answers, and I’ll just nod and smile while you school me. It’ll be your show—I’m basically signing up to be your personal cheerleader. You’re the brains, I’ll be the brawn. Need a little backup? I’m your guy.”

Anja shot him a pointed, exasperated look, surprised but slightly amused as he kept his hold on her wrist. “So, Anja, what do you think? I’m the full package—fun, rich, athletic, kind, supportive, and amazing. What more could you possibly want?”

Despite herself, Anja laughed, though she fought to hold her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Seriously, put your shirt down already.”

But Jack didn’t move an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I'll be your biggest fan, always backing you up. And hey, I’m probably the best at making people laugh too.”

Anja couldn’t help but stare at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, much to her own surprise, found herself laughing again. “Hughes, you’re a complete idiot. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

Jack shot her a wink. “Oh, it counts for everything, Anja. Everything. So, what do you say? One coffee, no weirdness?”

Anja hesitated, still gripping his shirt, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. One coffee. But just so we're clear, Hughes—this is strictly a friend thing. No boyfriend talk. I’m not looking for anything, and I definitely can’t handle you as my boyfriend.”

Jack released her wrist, smoothing out his shirt, his grin still in place but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. I’ll settle for the friend date. A desperate man takes what he can get.”

Anja rolled her eyes, half amused. "Just... no flexing, alright?"

Jack chuckled, giving her a mock salute. “Alright, alright—I'll behave.”

– 

And Jack wasn't lying, about him being on his good behaviour.

He pulled up in his sleek car just as Anja finished her shift a couple days later. The neon lights of the coffee shop flickering behind her. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, shaking off the exhaustion of her shift, her apron swapped for a simple jacket. Jack leaned over from the driver’s seat, his grin wide, like a cat who’d just caught its prey.

“Ready for our coffee date, Anja?”

Anja rolled her eyes dramatically as she slid into the car, amusement flickering across her face.“It’s a friend date, Jack,” she corrected, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. “And what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

Jack’s grin widened. “Well, about that…” He gestured toward the empty streets. “It’s a bit late, and all the normal coffee shops are closed. But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.”

Anja raised an eyebrow.”Yeh that's what I’m afraid of.”

“No, no. You’ll love this. Trust me.”Jack chuckled. 

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an old, charming bookstore that looked like it belonged in another era—warm light spilling from its windows, a glowing sign that read Open 24 Hours. It had the kind of inviting presence that made you want to step inside and stay awhile.

Jack parked and motioned for Anja to follow him in.

“This is… a bookstore?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism but also curiosity. As she stepped through the door, the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Not just any bookstore,” he said, his tone teasing. “It’s got a coffee shop inside. And pastries. Perfect place for a late-night coffee date, if you ask me.” Jack flashed a smirk, leading her toward the back. “And you thought I’ve never read a book in my entire life—guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Anja smiled sweetly, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous. Creative,” Jack corrected with a grin. 

Inside, a barista was still serving warm drinks to a couple of late-night readers, the soft hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the crackling of an old record playing in the background. Cozy armchairs and beanbags were scattered throughout the room, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Anja glanced around, taking it all in. The soft lighting, the inviting scent of coffee and something sweet—chocolate, maybe—it all made the space feel like a quiet little world of its own. A place where time didn’t feel so urgent. “Okay… I’ll admit, this is actually kind of nice. Cozy, even.”

Jack flopped onto a nearby beanbag, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? You can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Anja groaned. “You’ve been in prime form tonight, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he shot back, flashing her another confident smile.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer. “What if we swap coffee for hot chocolate instead?” His playful edge had slipped away a little. “Figured something warm and sweet might be better this late.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden thoughtfulness. “Hmm, actually, that sounds really good. It is too late for coffee, and I could use a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Jack’s smile deepened, satisfied with her answer. “Good choice,” he said with a wink before heading to the counter.

When he came back, he wasn’t just carrying hot chocolate. Along with the two steaming mugs, he had a plate of warm pastries, their flaky layers golden and crisp. He set everything on the small coffee table between their beanbags, the sweet smell of cocoa and butter filling the air. Something about the simple gesture—just them, the warmth, the food—made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

Anja dropped her coat to the floor and sank into her beanbag, letting out a soft sigh as she got comfortable. Everything about this night felt softer, easier than she’d expected.

“I really wasn’t expecting this… but it’s nice.” She reached for her mug, glancing at him. “Just don’t let the compliment go to your head.”

Jack smirked as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “No promises.” He picked up a pastry and held it out to her. "I figured you'd appreciate a little something sweet to go with the moment."

Anja hesitated for only a second before taking the pastry. As she bit into it, the warm layers melted on her tongue, and she let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.

“Okay,” she admitted, taking another bite. “You’re definitely not wrong about this.”

Jack watched her, the sound of her hum catching him off guard, a hint of something shifting in his chest.

As they sipped their hot chocolate the café around them felt like its own little world—soft lighting, the distant murmur of pages turning, the quiet clinking of mugs against saucers.

Anja curled deeper into her beanbag, fingers wrapped around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her hands. Jack stretched out in his seat, looking just as content, his usual energy softened.

When they finished, Jack set his mug down with a satisfied sigh and shot Anja a look. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anja blinked. “Go where?”

He gestured toward the shelves. “You can’t just sit in a bookstore café and not browse. That’s practically a crime.”

She huffed a laugh but let him lead her toward the towering bookshelves. As they wandered through the aisles, Anja ran her fingers over worn spines, occasionally picking up a book to flip through. Jack did the same, moving ahead of her, plucking books off the shelves without much thought.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to his choices—until she caught a glimpse of the titles in his hands. The Odyssey. Moby Dick. War and Peace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “War and Peace? Really?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “What? I’ve got layers, Anja. I like to read, too. Not geography books, as you already know, but serious stuff. Might surprise you.”

Anja let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You? The manwhore of the hockey world? Reading Tolstoy? I thought you were too busy with girls and hockey to have time for this kind of thing.”

Jack smirked, holding up the book like it was a trophy. “Ha ha, really funny.” He shot her a look, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, girls and hockey are not the only things in my brain.”

Anja scoffed, reaching out to snatch the book from his hands. She flipped it open, skimming a few pages before looking back up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually read this?” she asked, holding up War and Peace like it was a foreign artifact. “Not just for, like, show?”

Jack placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, flipping through the pages. “Alright, prove it. Who’s your favorite character?”

Without missing a beat, Jack smirked. “Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Anja froze for a second, looking up from the pages, clearly thrown. “Wait, really? You’re an Andrei guy?”

Jack nodded, his expression dead serious. “What? You thought I’d say Pierre?”

“YES,” she said immediately. “Pierre’s the obvious choice. He’s way more... interesting.”

“Interesting? Pierre’s a hot mess for like, 90% of the book. The guy spends half his time getting lost, getting into trouble, and overthinking everything.”

Anja shot him a teasing glance. “Exactly. That’s what makes him interesting! He’s awkward, searching for meaning... vulnerable.”

Jack laughed, leaning closer to her. “Vulnerable? Or just indecisive? The guy can’t make a choice without spiraling.”

“That’s the whole point. He’s human. Complex.” She poked Jack’s chest with a finger, her eyes gleaming with passion as she leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Jack moved closer to her, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but Pierre’s a disaster. Andrei knows who he is. He’s a leader, a soldier, a guy who gets things done. That’s why I like him.”

“Oh, please,” Anja scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Andrei’s the epitome of a brooding, pretentious sad boy. He spends the entire book sulking, acting like everyone else is beneath him.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face as if she’d just had a sudden realization. “Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, actually.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a wide smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you calling me brooding and pretentious?”

Anja held his gaze for a beat, then shook her head. “Not exactly. But yeah, that sounds like you—at least the pretentious part. You’re not really the brooding type. You’re way too cocky for that. But I can definitely see some Andrei in you.”

Jack chuckled, a small spark flickering in his chest. He couldn’t help but like a woman who had both a strong opinion and a sharp mind. “I’m confident, not pretentious. There’s a difference. Andrei’s got his life together—he knows what he wants, he has standards, and he doesn’t just drift through life hoping things will work out. You can’t say the same about Pierre. That guy spends half the book lost in his own head, making bad decisions, and hoping the universe sorts it out for him. Andrei? He takes charge. If that’s who you’re comparing me to, I’ll take it.”

Anja shook her head, amused. “Not just that. Andrei’s just a ticking time bomb. All that ‘duty’ and ‘honor’... It’s like a mask he hides behind to avoid facing his own mess. You probably like him because, let’s face it, he’s a little bit like you in that sense as well.”

“Me? A mess? I’m hurt.” Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

Anja shrugged, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t act like it’s not true. You’re just like him. A little too obsessed with being ‘the guy who’s got it all together.’”

Jack smirked, shifting his weight casually as he placed Moby Dick back on the shelf next to them. “Andrei’s confident. I’m confident. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Anja raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But at least Pierre learns. He grows. Andrei? He just spends the whole book whining until—well, spoiler alert, he dies.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock disbelief, eyes wide. “Ouch. Ruthless. The guy goes through war, heartbreak, and personal tragedy, and you just—” He waved his hand dramatically. “Done. No sympathy?”

Anja grinned, flipping the book shut with a decisive motion. “Not my fault Tolstoy made him insufferable. I stand by Pierre.”

Jack looked at her, laughing in disbelief. “I can’t believe you read War and Peace and took Pierre’s side.”

Anja shot him a playful side-eye. “Oh yeah? You read it and picked Andrei. We’re clearly both making questionable decisions here.”

“I guess we can’t buddy-read Tolstoy together, huh?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Anja crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Good. I’d hate to have to explain everything to you.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh, while he tucked War and Peace under his arm again, giving her a teasing look. “Alright, book snob. Since you clearly think you know everything, what’s next? Are you going to try to convince me that Anna Karenina’s actions were justified?”

Anja gasped, eyes widening. “Jack. Don’t even start.”

Shaking her head, Anja grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, and Jack did the same. With their newfound selections in hand, they made their way back to their cozy beanbags. They settled in, the quiet rustle of pages filling the space between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Jack flipped through War and Peace, skimming familiar passages, while Anja lost herself in a biography of one of her favorite artists. The playful banter from earlier still lingered in her mind, but as she snuck a glance at Jack, something about the way he was fully immersed in his book made her pause.

She watched him for a moment, her smile softening. There was something oddly sincere about him like this—quiet, focused, different from the cocky, fast-talking guy she was so used to.

“Huh,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “Guess I underestimated you, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look up immediately, but a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face. “It happens,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She turned her attention back to her book, trying to focus. But every now and then, she found herself glancing up—watching as Jack absentmindedly ran a thumb over the edge of the pages, completely absorbed in his book.

Anja took a deep breath, smiling to herself as she sank deeper into the beanbag. Maybe Jack Hughes wasn’t just a pretty face after all. And maybe, just maybe, this friend date wasn’t so bad after all.

—

Weeks passed, and what started as a single friend date grew into something neither of them had quite expected. Something real and deeper. Jack started showing up at the coffee shop every day after practice, sometimes before games, sometimes after. He’d slip in quietly, pulling his hood up, and find a corner table by the window. And there he’d stay, right where Anja could see him. It was like a routine now, something familiar and comforting.

He’d sit there, watching her work, the steady hum of the café filling the space between them as he lazily flipped through a book. On quieter days, when Anja wasn’t rushing from table to table, Jack would start talking—about hockey, the latest game, or whatever TV show had caught his attention. Their conversations stretched beyond the usual small talk. They argued about politics, books, their childhood, even their biggest fears. Jack was always challenging the way she thought about things, pushing her to question what she believed. And though it sometimes annoyed her, Anja couldn’t deny that she actually enjoyed it.

She began to appreciate the complexity in him, the layers behind the cocky smile and careless attitude. It wasn’t just the light teasing that made her laugh. It was the way he could discuss some silly tv show one minute and then dive into a heated debate about the latest political news the next. And sometimes, when their conversations would die down, Jack would pull out a book, burying himself in it while Anja went about her work. They’d fall into a comfortable silence, the kind only true friends could share.

More and more, Anja found herself looking forward to seeing Jack walk in. There was something about him that made everything feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn’t long before their friendship spilled over into texts. Casual check-ins after games, long messages about something that had made them laugh, or a random book recommendation. Anja, to her own surprise, found herself enjoying it. She’d thought it would be strange, having Jack’s name constantly flashing on her phone, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. She wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but somewhere between the books they’d shared, the heated debates, and the quiet moments spent together, Jack had become a friend in a way she hadn’t expected.

And now, as she glanced over at him, sitting in his usual spot, flipping through pages of Inferno by Dante, she couldn’t help but smile. 

Then, as she turned to take an order at the counter, she heard laughter from across the café. She didn’t even need to look to know what was happening. Jack, as usual, had charmed a group of older ladies sitting near the pastry case.

“Oh, come on, Marge,” he said, grinning at one of them as he leaned casually on the counter. “You can’t tell me you weren’t a heartbreaker back in the day. I bet you had all the boys lined up.”

Marge, a widow in her seventies who came in every morning with her two best friends, waved him off with a playful scoff. “Oh, hush, you flirt. You’re just trying to sweet-talk me into buying you a cookie.”

Jack gasped dramatically, but his confident smile was still on his face. “Marge, I would never!”

Anja, overhearing the entire exchange as she filled a coffee cup, tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. She bit her lip, shaking her head as Jack continued his antics, effortlessly charming the older women like he was born to do it.

But then, when his gaze flickered back to Anja, something changed. The easy, flirtatious grin softened. His shoulders relaxed. He still had that effortless confidence, that natural charm, but when it was just the two of them, it was different. He didn’t need to perform. He let Anja see something deeper—something quieter, more thoughtful.

She walked past his table, setting down a fresh cup of coffee without him even asking. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she murmured, shaking her head.

Jack just smirked up at her, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “Yeah, but you like it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

– 

Jack hated these nights.

Another brutal loss. Another night of feeling like the weight of the entire team was sitting on his chest. With Nico out, the pressure had been on him to step up, to push the team to a win. And he tried. He fucking tried. But it wasn’t happening.

And to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t exactly peaceful.

A muffled whimper filtered through the wall. Then another. Then—Jesus Christ.

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his pillow over his head as if that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Luke and Thea were home. And happy. And apparently, they had absolutely no concept of thin walls.

And maybe Jack was just being petty, but it was hard not to feel... left out. Especially when he remembered how he’d been on with Anja these past few weeks.

Jack had never experienced a true friendship with a woman, but Anja was different. From the start, she made it clear that she only saw him as a friend—and that was fine with him. At first, he struggled to accept it, but over time, things shifted. They grew closer, spending hours together, laughing, talking, and sharing moments. Jack found himself explaining the New Jersey Devils to her—a tough task, especially since she was a Bruins fan and knew next to nothing about his team. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, and the fact that she didn’t seem to care made it even harder to keep his cool. Still, he couldn’t help but respect that she wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over him. It was... refreshing.

But still... there were nights, like tonight, when it hit him.

He couldn’t deny it—he was drawn to her. He loved their friendship, no question, but deep down, there was always that something more. That unspoken tension, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t ready to face it. Jack didn’t do love. It was just sexual tension, he told himself. It couldn’t be anything more. After all, Anja was a beautiful, young woman, and he was a ridiculously good-looking athlete. Of course, they had chemistry. But that’s all it was. 

And then there were nights like this, where his mind wandered off course, and instead of texting her—because that would be weird—he went back to his old habits. Hook-ups. Quick distractions. Just something to get his mind off things.

So, he picked up his phone and fired off a few texts. It was easier this way, he told himself. 

It wasn’t like he wanted anything serious with anyone else. He wasn’t looking for that. But sometimes, he just needed a reminder that he could still get attention from people. He still had that pull. Even if Anja didn’t feel the same way.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly healthy. But it was easier than dealing with the things that really mattered.

Five weeks since he’d met her. Four weeks since she had completely turned his world upside down. But that wasn’t her fault. He was the one who couldn’t seem to figure things out.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. But it wasn’t the message he was expecting.

A: Hey, Prince Charming.

Jack smirked, running a hand through his hair as he read the text. The nickname had started after their first friend date, when she’d looked at him with that amused glint in her eye and said he reminded her of a fairytale prince—all looks, maybe not completely dumb, but let’s be honest, not that smart either. He should’ve been offended, but for some reason, he fucking loved it when she called him that.

Another buzz.

A: So, that was a really shitty game. You sucked today.

Jack barked out a laugh. Jesus. He loved that this woman didn’t hold back. Everyone else always tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't bruise his ego. Not Anja. She came at him full force.

J: Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.

A: I don’t do sugarcoating. You were bad. Like, painfully bad.

J: Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder.

A: Anytime, Hughes.

Jack shook his head, still smiling as he stared at the screen. His other texts—the ones he’d sent out looking for a distraction—were sitting there, unread. He didn’t even feel like checking them anymore. Instead, he rolled onto his side, typing out another response.

J: So what, you just text me to roast me, or are you actually gonna make me feel better?

A: Oh, I was getting there. You’re a disaster, but at least you’re a pretty disaster.

J: Pretty disaster, huh? Wow, really boosting my confidence here.

Jack rolled his eyes, but a small smile spread across his face.

A: You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. You looked so sad out there today, I felt bad for you.

J: I don’t need pity. I need sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair, irritation creeping back in. The game had been brutal, and now he was staring at the ceiling again, the exhaustion weighing on him. Tomorrow’s practice would be hell if he didn’t get some sleep. His body was already aching from the game, and now this.

A: Oh, so now you want sympathy? Make up your mind, Hughes.

J: I’m just saying, I’m exhausted. And I’ve got thin walls here—Luke and Thea are having the time of their life, and I can’t escape it. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.

A: Ah, poor thing. Just not jealous?

J: Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is stick my dick in anybody. I don’t even know how Lukey does it. Guess being young helps… Maybe Thea was right about that stamina thing...

A: Jesus Jack! You really don’t have a filter. TMI! But…Well… I mean, if you need a place to crash, my couch is always available.

J: Wait, seriously?

Jack paused, blinking at his phone. He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. But there was a part of him that was already considering it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night to himself that didn’t end with him staring at the ceiling.

A: Yeah, I’m serious. We’re friends. Even if this is painful for me to admit. And I live basically 10 minutes from you. Just come over.

J: …Wait, you actually want me to crash at your place?

A: Just don’t make me regret this, Prince Charming!

Jack chuckled. This… this was definitely unexpected.

J: Alright, fine. I’ll take you up on the offer. Thanks, Anja!

—

Jack stepped into Anja’s apartment, every muscle in his body groaning in protest.

His legs ached from the game, his mind was a chaotic mess, but right now, all he could think about was sleep. Real sleep. Not the restless, half-conscious tossing and turning that had been his last few nights. He needed to crash—hard.

And then he saw her.

Anja stood in the soft glow of the apartment, wearing loose, dark pajamas, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—just her. Effortlessly beautiful, untouched by the outside world.

Jack’s brain stalled for a second.

How the hell was she this attractive without even trying?

He shook the thought away. It was exhaustion, right? Had to be. She was just… Anja. He was too damn tired to think straight.

So, Jack did what any man on the brink of collapse would do—he went straight for the bed, flopping face-first onto the mattress without asking.

Behind him, Anja leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know the rules. Couch.”

Jack groaned into the pillow. “Anja. Please. My body is broken. My soul is hanging by a thread. And that couch? That couch is where souls go to die.”

Anja snorted. “You’ll survive.”

Jack rolled onto his side, his eyes heavy with tiredness, but he still managed to give her a slow, teasing glance. "You’re seriously gonna make me crash out there when there’s a whole king-sized bed right here?" He patted the mattress like it was the most inviting thing in the world. "Come on, that’s practically a crime against humanity."

Anja lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are humanity’s crime.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. Name it.”

Anja smirked. “Anything?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“I want—” she paused for dramatic effect “—a New York Rangers jersey.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Okay, that’s just plain evil, darling.”

Anja smirked, knowing full well how much Jack loathed the Rangers. Her hockey knowledge was avarage, but she was well aware of the hostility between Jack’s team and their biggest rival.

Jack exhaled in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, new offer: I’ll make you breakfast.”

Anja let out a short laugh. “You can’t cook, Jacky. That’s basically a threat, not an offer.”

“Incorrect,” Jack said, giving her a playful look as he pointed at her.“I can cook. I just choose not to.”

Anja stared at him, unamused.

“Okay, fine,” Jack groaned, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I can make breakfast. Still counts.”

“That’s just eggs. And even those are awful,” Anja remarked dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, still technically breakfast.”

“Anja,” he said, voice grave. “I am a man at his lowest. My body is failing me, my will to live is fading, and you—” he pointed dramatically at her “—have the power to save me.”

Anja blinked at him, unimpressed. “You are so dramatic.”

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer passionate.”

She rolled her eyes again, exhaling like this whole act was physically draining her, and for a second, Jack thought she was going to send him to the couch anyway. But then she let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head like she already regretted it.

“One night,” she said, pointing at him sharply. “And no funny business.”

Jack shot up like he’d just been given a second lease on life, already pulling off his hoodie as he practically dove under the covers. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Anja muttered something under her breath about regretting this already, flicking off the light as she climbed into bed beside him.

Jack exhaled as his body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his muscles. But just as his brain started to shut down, he caught it—her scent.

That unmistakable mix of orange and peppermint.

It was everywhere. In the sheets, in the pillows, in the air itself, wrapping around him and settling into his skin like a slow, creeping warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

His body relaxed instantly, but his mind? His mind did the opposite.

He wasn’t sure why this felt different. Why she felt different. Why, after all the nights spent in beds that weren’t his, this—lying next to Anja, stealing her blankets, breathing in the scent of orange and peppermint—was the only thing that had ever felt right.

He hated how much he liked it.

Jack turned his head toward her, voice low, teasing. “You know, if you let me stay in this bed again, I’ll compose an original poem just for you.”

Anja groaned. “Shut up, Hughes!”

Jack grinned. “A sonnet, actually. Or maybe a haiku—short and sweet. You know, something like—” He cleared his throat, pretending to get serious before continuing, “Shall I compare thee to—”

Anja rolled over, cutting him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Enough,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, with a hint of something almost... hesitant.

Jack blinked up at her, his lips still pressed against her palm. The room felt different all of a sudden, as if the air had thickened. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe something else entirely, but the shift between them was unmistakable.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Jack could feel the heat of her skin against his face, and saw how her breathing slowed just a fraction, like she had only just realized how close they were. He should say something, crack a joke, break the silence. But for once, he didn’t.

And then—because he was Jack—he wiggled his eyebrows.

Anja blinked at him, like she was snapping out of a daze, and pulled her hand away, rolling onto her side. “You’re such a pain.”

Jack chuckled, stealing half the blanket. “And yet, here I am, still in this bed.”

Anja rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And honestly, how do you know what a haiku is? You didn’t even know that Germany and Switzerland were two different countries.”

Jack groaned, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I’m misunderstood,” he muttered, like he was truly burdened by it.

Anja laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the dim room. “Yeah, the real mystery, Jack Hughes. You’re dumb enough to confuse countries, but you’re cultured enough to drop haiku on me.”

“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his head and squinting at her with a playful grin, “I’m a complex man. Who loves literature.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. “And that’s exactly what makes you so damn annoying.”

Jack smirked, sinking back into the pillows. “Glad to see you recognize my complexity.”

Anja sighed, still facing away, though Jack could feel the faint shake of her shoulders as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Jack relaxed into the bed, the warmth of her body and the soft sound of her laughter soothing him. “Oh, I know I have.”

Anja scoffed, but Jack could hear the smile in her voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jack smirked, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, I will.”

—

Jack sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his coffee like it owed him money. His head was pounding, and the goddamn world seemed way too fucking chipper for his liking. His body was sore as hell from practice, but it was nothing compared to the frustration buzzing through his brain.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Jacky,” Thea chirped as she walked in, pressing a kiss to Luke’s head. Of course, Luke had to shoot her a goofy grin, like he was a damn golden retriever. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Shut up, pedo,” Jack mumbled, trying to sip his coffee without gagging. He didn’t care if his tone was off. He wasn’t here for their bullshit today.

Luke rolled his eyes, totally unfazed. “What the hell happened to you, man? You were all full of energy this morning—like, bouncing off the walls—and now you're just... this.” He gestured at Jack, who was hunched over the table like he was already dead inside.

Jack snorted, clearly not in the mood for a pep talk. “Maybe I’m just tired of people asking me why I’m an asshole. Get a new hobby.”

Yeah, Luke was right. He knew that. But honestly? He had way bigger problems right now. Like, Anja.

This morning had started off like some cheesy rom-com, and Jack was seriously starting to panic about it. He woke up, and there she was—her small, warm body tangled up in his, all soft and perfect. For a split second, he actually thought about kissing her—maybe snuggling, maybe even making her coffee. What the hell? When had he become the type of guy who fantasized about making coffee for someone? What was next, brunch? Fucking brunch?!

But, of course, it wasn’t until he was changing out of his hockey gear, post-practice, that he realized what a weird thought that was. He wasn’t exactly known for catching on to things quickly. He knew his flaws. But here he was, practically having a meltdown over the idea of wanting to snuggle.

And the worst part? The morning had been way too perfect for his comfort. Like, Anja didn’t even make the cuddling weird. Which, on any other day, would be a blessing. But now? He was thinking about her—and not in a “she’s a cool, funny friend” way. No, this was different. This was “I just woke up in her bed and I’m wondering if we should get matching coffee mugs” levels of insane.

They’d woken up, did the lazy morning cuddle thing—because apparently, Jack had no self-control—then they’d grabbed coffee. He’d cracked a few jokes about the news, she’d laughed like it was just another morning. And, damn it, it felt so normal. Too normal.

And then came the worst part: he kissed her on the cheek when he left. Like, a peck. And she blushed. She fucking blushed and wished him a good day like she was some picture-perfect, Hallmark-movie wife.

Did he just call her a wife? Oh, hell no. That couldn’t be a thing. He wasn’t ready for that.

He gulped down more coffee like it was going to fix this internal meltdown. The burn hit his chest, but the panic was still there. He had to shake it off. This was stupid. Anja was just a friend—no, not just a friend, she was a friend who he happened to share a bed with... and now apparently, his feelings? What the hell was happening to him?

Jack swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t him. He was the guy who had no problems keeping things casual, no strings, no feelings. But now? Now he was screwing up his own rulebook. Anja is a friend…just a friend!

Jack sighed dramatically, letting his frustration hang in the air like a thick cloud. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, alright? But I feel like a goddamn idiot. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this. I should be pissed about my game, but instead..." He rubbed his forehead, hoping it would somehow stop the mental chaos.

Luke, ever the observant little shit, raised an eyebrow. “So this is about her? Anja, right?”

Jack shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Well, no, I’m talking about the weather, Luke. Of course it’s about Anja. Who else would it be?” He paused, then—BAM—his brain hit him with a sudden revelation. Wait a second—this was actually Luke’s fault. “Actually, this is your fault, you know. If you and Thea weren’t busy mating like a pair of rabbits, I wouldn’t have had to leave the house yesterday!”

Luke’s smirk was already five miles wide. “Man, just admit it. You’re into her. You’re all mopey and pissy because you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

Jack glared at him like he just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck off. I don’t do feelings. And I sure as hell don’t do snuggling.”

He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd maybe over-shared just a bit.

Thea grabbed an apple from the fridge and plopped herself down on Luke’s lap “Snuggling? Snuggling? Oh, Jack, you are so gone.” She bit into the apple dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“You sure about that ‘no snuggle’ rule?”Luke teased, clearly enjoying the moment, as he lightly traced circles on Thea's exposed hip.

“Oh, Luke, do you remember what Jack said to Quinn?” Thea tilted her head, changing her voice to mock Jack. “‘Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro.’” She smirked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, God, please, feel free to enjoy my suffering. It’s what you’re best at.”

Thea clutched her chest like she was watching the best drama unfold right in front of her. “Oh, I’m living for this. You know, those moments that are so painfully awkward and secondhand embarrassing that they keep you entertained for weeks? Jack Hughes falling in love—now that’s the kind of content I’ll be replaying in my head forever.”

Jack shot her a glare. He knew exactly what she was referencing. That was his line—the same one he threw at Thea when he caught her sneaking out of Luke’s room. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little too smug about it at the time. And sure, he knew she’d get her revenge eventually.

But honestly? Making his brother and his date uncomfortable had been way too much fun.

Jack would love to say he’d learned his lesson.

But he was way too much of an asshole for that.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy every moment of this,” Jack grumbled, grabbing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Because this will be short. I’m just gonna figure my shit out. No more cuddling, no more kissing her on the cheek like I’m some goddamn romantic. I’m not built for this.” He slammed his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll find some random girl tonight, bang her, and get over this. Problem solved.”

Luke just shook his head, his curly hair bouncing with the motion, falling in soft waves across his forehead. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Jack shot him an icy glare. “Shut up, Mr. Pedo Lover.” He practically growled as he stomped over to the sink, banging the mug down.

Thea and Luke exchanged a look, their smiles knowing. They didn’t even need to say anything, and it pissed Jack off even more. He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, needing to get away before he said something even dumber. But in the back of his mind, his thoughts kept running. Fuck. What the hell was he even doing?

—

The music pounded through the bar, a steady, brain-numbing beat. Jack Hughes barely noticed, his attention fixed on his beer as he took a slow sip.

He was in trouble.

Not because of the game. Not because of a fight. But because, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t find a single fucking woman he wanted to take home.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem.

This Sunday night was supposed to be easy. A big win finally, a few drinks, a quick fuck. No strings, no thoughts, no mess. That was the routine. That was him. And yet, here he was, staring into his beer like it held the answers to his fucked-up brain.

It was Nico’s slap on his back that snapped him out of it.

“Come on, man! What the hell’s up with you? You’ve turned down, what? Ten girls already?”

“Four,” Jack muttered.

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, Jacky boy. You sick or something?”

Jack grunted, smacking Nico’s hand away when he pressed it to his forehead. He took another long swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would do something—blur the edges, dull the noise, drown out her.

Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Anja.

The fucking Anja Syndrome.

Every girl, every goddamn girl, he measured against her. And every single one of them came up short.

Too blonde. Too tall. Too high-pitched. Too weird with her fucking drink.

It was bullshit.

Jack never gave a shit before. He didn’t care if they were tall or short, blonde or brunette. If they had a body and were willing, that was enough. And yeah, he knew that made him sound like a dick, but he was 23, a pro athlete, and he’d be an idiot not to enjoy the perks.

So why the fuck was he sitting here, empty-handed, second-guessing his entire goddamn existence?

“Come on, Jack,” Bas nudged him, nodding toward the bar. “That little blonde has been eye-fucking you all night. Give her some mercy.”

Jack glanced over.

Petite. A little too skinny, but she had pretty greenish-brown eyes and a face guys would probably call “cute.” She was fine.

She should be perfect.

But she wasn’t her.

Oh, fuck off.

No more of this shit.

This girl was hot, and she was ready to go. She was exactly what he needed to snap himself out of this bullshit.

“Perfect,” Jack muttered. Ignoring his teammates’ laughter, he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet.

With long, confident strides, he crossed the bar, slipping back into the guy he used to be—the one who didn’t overthink, didn’t feel. He flashed his best smirk, the one that melted panties before he even said a word.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled, voice dropping into that low, rough tone that always did the trick.

The girl beamed. “Hey! Took you long enough.” She giggled, the sound high and grating.

Jack forced a smirk. “You know how it is—can’t ditch the team right away.”

He didn’t care about the small talk.

Didn’t want it.

He just needed this to work.

“So… wanna head to the back with me?” He made sure his tone left no room for misinterpretation.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

That was all he needed.

He took her wrist, weaving through the crowd until they reached the back exit. He’d spotted the terrace earlier—quiet, dim, completely empty. Perfect for what he needed.

And the second the terrace door swung shut behind them, Jack wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl by the waist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a force that had always been enough. His hands slid down her back, gripping, squeezing, searching for that familiar spark—that fire that always ignited the second he got a girl alone.

But nothing came.

Not even a flicker.

The girl moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing herself against him like she wanted to be devoured. It should have been hot. It should have sent a jolt straight to his dick, setting off that automatic chain reaction his body had perfected over the years.

But there was nothing.

Nothing except a creeping, cold frustration curling in his gut.

No. No, this was just in his head. He needed to push through it. He could push through it.

Jack deepened the kiss, tilting her head back as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing her into the brick wall behind them. He rolled his hips forward, desperate for his body to wake the fuck up, desperate for the heat to kick in, for the hunger to return.

Still nothing.

His pulse pounded—not with arousal, but with something dangerously close to panic.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle, threading her fingers down his chest, her nails scraping against his shirt as she reached for his belt.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, voice dripping with suggestion.

Jack flinched.

His stomach turned.

It wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to snap out of it. He could fix this. He just needed to focus.

He dropped his head to the girl's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging in. He sucked at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin in the way that usually made a girl melt against him.

She gasped, arching into him, nails raking down his back.

Jack felt nothing.

His body was like a fucking corpse.

Dead.

Unresponsive.

Refusing to play along.

And then, before he could stop it, before he could shove it back down where it belonged—her face flashed in his mind.

Anja.

That smug little smirk she got when she knew she was right. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to him talk, like he was the most interesting person in the world. The fire in her eyes when she called him on his bullshit.

The way her body had felt against his that one night when they slept in the same bed.

The way he’d spent every second since aching to feel it again..

Jack froze.

His entire body locked up, his breathing sharp and erratic.

The girl noticed immediately.

"You okay?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, hands still working at his belt. "Just relax, baby."

Jack jerked back like he’d been burned.

Baby.

She wasn’t her.

She would never be her.

And for the first time in his life, that mattered.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The girl frowned. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I— I can't. I— This isn’t gonna happen."

Her expression flickered with confusion, then shifted into irritation. "Oh, come on. You just need a little—"

She reached for him again, her hand slipping down toward his belt, but Jack caught her wrist before she could get any further.

"No." His voice was firm. Sharper than he intended.

She yanked her hand back like he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?" She let out a harsh laugh, crossing her arms. "What, you bring me out here just to waste my fucking time?"

Jack exhaled heavily, raking both hands through his hair. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were closing in on his lungs.

"You’re not her," he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Fuck. You are not her."

And that was the problem.

Her gaze darkened with annoyance. "Oh, so it's me that’s the problem?" She scoffed. "Classic. Maybe next time don’t bite off more than you can chew, Hughes."

And with that, she spun on her heel, shoving open the terrace door and storming back into the bar.

Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees bent, head tipped back against the cold surface. His breaths were uneven, his entire body wound too tight, but still—nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching uselessly in his lap.

His body had never betrayed him before.

Never failed him.

And now?

Now, it was screaming the truth at him.

The truth he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He didn’t just want Anja.

It was worse than that.

She was the only one who fucking existed.

And he was so. Completely. Fucked.

—

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The girl in the back. His body refusing to cooperate. The cold panic that had washed over him like a wave when he realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t want her—he didn’t want anyone. Not unless it was her.

Anja.

That thought hit him again. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He hadn’t realized how deep this shit went until now. He’d spent weeks trying to deny it, trying to make himself believe that it was just a phase. That he could get over it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Anja wasn’t just someone he was into. She was the one. She was it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. His mind was too loud. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Not right now. Not when his entire body was screaming one thing.

Her.

He reached the street and stood there for a second, trying to get his bearings. The world around him felt off-kilter. Everything looked distant, like he wasn’t actually here, like he was floating in some fucked-up dream.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out. He tapped through his contacts and hit the taxi app without a second thought. He needed to get to her. Now.

His finger hovered over the ‘Confirm’ button before he pressed it without hesitation. He didn’t even care if he was drunk—he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t keep sitting with the fucking mess in his head.

He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol, the remnants of the beers he’d downed earlier, swirling in his blood. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except getting to her.

The ride felt endless. The city lights blurred outside the cab window as he stared at his phone, willing it to stop feeling like it was vibrating in his hand. His mind kept replaying the images of Anja—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the sound of her voice when she laughed at his dumb jokes. God, even the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating made him want to crawl out of his skin.

By the time the taxi pulled up to her building, Jack didn’t know if he was angry, frustrated, or just scared shitless. Probably all of the above.

He handed the driver a few bills without even looking at the change, already pulling the door open and stepping out before the car had even come to a full stop. He jogged up the steps of her building, his hands clammy, stomach twisted in knots.

When he reached her door, he didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t wait. He just raised his hand and banged on the wood, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. He felt like he might pass out from the tension in his body, the anticipation clenching his chest tighter with every passing second.

It felt like forever before he heard the sound of footsteps. And then the door creaked open.

After a few seconds, he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then the door cracked open to reveal a very unimpressed, very sleepy-looking Anja. Fuck she was beautiful. 

She blinked at him. “Jack?” Her voice was groggy, her hair a mess. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I—I needed to talk to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Is someone else dying?”

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

Jack hesitated. “...A little.”

Anja let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Alright, go on then. What’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then ran a hand through his hair because shit, this was harder than he thought.

“Okay, so—” He exhaled sharply. “Something happened tonight, and I think I’m broken.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Broken?”

“Like, physically broken.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Like… I had a girl—a very hot girl, by the way—practically throwing herself at me, and nothing. Not a damn thing.” He pointed at his own chest. “My body just—betrayed me.”

Anja stared at him for a second. Then, to his absolute horror—she burst out laughing.

Like, full-on, body-shaking laughter.

Jack scowled. “Okay, rude.”

“Oh my god.” She clutched the doorframe for support, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Jack, I swear, if you woke me up just to tell me you couldn’t get it up, I’m slamming this door in your face.”

“It’s not about that!” Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it is, but it’s also not.” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Look, I was with this girl, right? And she was perfect—like, objectively, guys would kill to be with her. And I tried, I really tried—”

Anja snorted. “Poor girl.”

“—but the whole time, all I could think about was you.”

That shut her up.

Anja’s smile froze, her laughter dying in her throat.

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s the problem, Anja. It’s you. You’ve ruined me.” He pointed at her like she was some kind of criminal. “I used to be great at this. No thoughts, just vibes. But now? Now, I go out, I find a hot girl, I do my thing—except I can’t do my thing, because all I can think about is how she doesn’t laugh like you, or talk like you, or smell like you, or—fuck, Anja—hell, even the way she breathed just annoyed the hell out of me.”

Anja blinked. “...The way she breathed?”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Yeah! Stupid, right?! But it mattered! And you wanna know why? Because she wasn’t you.” He let out a frustrated noise, pacing in a small circle before turning back to her. “I fell, Anja. Hard. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with it, because I’ve never—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never been in love before.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or take him seriously.

Jack exhaled loudly, raking both hands through his hair. “So, yeah. I’m here. I’m standing on your doorstep like a fucking idiot, telling you that I’m gone for you. And I don’t even know what I expect you to do with that information, but I couldn’t not tell you, because keeping it inside was making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he watched Anja process everything he just blurted out like an absolute lunatic.

Then, slowly, she started smiling again.

And then—yep, there it was—she was laughing again.

Jack groaned. “Oh my god, Anja, I’m baring my soul here!”

“I know,” she gasped between laughs. “That’s what makes it so funny!” She wiped her eyes. “Jack Hughes, king of hookups, showing up at my door at one in the morning to tell me he’s emotionally constipated and in love with me? This is gold.”

Jack scowled, crossing his arms. “I take it back. I don’t like you anymore.”

Anja just grinned, stepping forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Too late, idiot.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She was close now. So close that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose, the way her lips curled just slightly at the corners like she was still fighting laughter.

Then, before he could say anything else, she reached up and flicked his forehead.

“Ow,” Jack muttered, rubbing the spot.

Anja smirked. “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

And then—finally—she tugged him down by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him.

Jack froze for half a second before his brain caught up.

Then?

Then, he kissed her back.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was everything he’d been missing, everything he didn’t know he wanted. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unmistakable scent of oranges that clung to her skin—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe without it. Without her.

When they finally pulled apart, Anja’s smile was wide, like she’d just won something precious.

Jack blinked at her, heart pounding. “So, just to clarify… you like me too, right? This isn’t just, like, a pity kiss?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the affection in her gaze was clear. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She laughed again, the sound like music to his ears, shaking her head as she pulled him inside.

And just like that, Jack Hughes—the guy who swore he'd never let anyone in—was completely, hopelessly lost.

—

It took Jack three months to finally introduce Anja to Luke and Thea. Not like he didn’t want to shout it out to the world the very next morning after his drunk love confession that Anja had said yes to be his girlfriend. The thing was, saying those words had felt strange, almost surreal for Jack. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a real relationship—maybe back in high school? But high school felt like a lifetime ago. And back then, relationships were fleeting, brief. Nothing like what he felt for Anja.

But after meeting Anja, everything started to feel different. Jack couldn’t stop thinking about how he felt when he kissed her, when she smiled at him, when they were together, just the two of them. It wasn’t about sex, and that was the biggest shock to him. Every relationship he’d had before had always been tied up in physicality—chasing the high of the next touch, the next kiss, the next night. But with Anja, things were slower. The chemistry was undeniable, but they didn’t rush into anything. They took their time. And Jack was fine with that. 

So when Jack finally brought Anja around Luke and Thea, it felt like a milestone. They immediately clicked with her and both of them could see how well Anja handled Jack’s sometimes overly confident, sassy nature. Anja, in her own calm, collected way, knew how to ground Jack. She didn’t put up with his antics, but she didn’t try to change him either. They balanced each other out perfectly. Jack made Anja more confident, and she made him more humble. The shift in him was noticeable—his arrogance softened when she was around.

Things between Jack and Anja were effortless, natural. They’d fallen into a rhythm—hanging out with Luke and Thea, then slipping into quiet nights together. They’d binge-watch their favorite shows, wander around town grabbing food at random spots. But as their connection deepened, so did the tension—the unspoken feelings Jack wasn’t ready to confront.

Anja had made it clear she wasn’t in any rush, but Jack noticed a flicker of impatience in her over time. And he understood why. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to mess up what they had by diving into something physical, especially after everything he’d been through. Every other relationship had been based on attraction, and they’d all ended in disappointment. This time, he wanted something real. He wanted something that could last. He cared too much about Anja to risk ruining it.

Then came that night. After a double movie date with Luke and Thea, the evening wrapped up with everyone saying their goodbyes. Anja had laughed with Thea all night—joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Jack watched them, captivated by how easy and natural it all was. And more than once, he found himself just staring at Anja, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

As Luke and Thea headed off to their room, Anja turned to Jack, her smile soft but knowing. She stepped into his space, her body warm against his as she slid under his chin, leaning into his chest. Jack’s breath caught, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume only made everything more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, playful.

"Hi, baby," Jack responded, his smile matching hers, but there was something more beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She was up to something.

Anja’s fingertip traced small, slow circles on his neck—light, teasing touches that were enough to make his body respond before his mind could catch up. "So, I was thinking..." she said, her voice filled with mischief.

"Dangerous thing to do," Jack teased, his voice rougher than he intended, heat already pooling in his chest. He could feel his body weakening.

Anja giggled, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Shut up, you."

Jack grinned, but his thoughts scattered. Her touch was like fire, and it was hard to think straight with her so close.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it now—something more vulnerable, something Jack couldn’t ignore. "I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Your schedule’s been all over the place, and I’ve been working late shifts... It’d be nice to just snuggle with you. You know, wake up next to you."

Jack’s brain short-circuited. The thought of waking up beside her, of having her close, overwhelmed him. Just the way she said it—her words carrying something deeper—made his heart race. He couldn’t focus on anything else. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sly smile on her lips, the gleam in her eyes—it all made it clear she wasn’t just asking to stay. She was asking for something more.

Jack kissed her temple—soft, quick—before answering, his voice unsteady, without thinking, “Sure, Jaja. That sounds amazing.”

"Thanks, baby," she said lightly, almost singing the words. "I’ll just grab one of your T-shirts for PJs and take a quick shower."

Before Jack could even process it, Anja jumped up from his lap, leaving him sitting there alone, his mind racing. She was leaving him spinning, and he had no idea how to catch up. He tried to steady himself, but his thoughts were already scattered, caught between what he wanted and what he was afraid of.

“Minx,” Jack murmured under his breath, leaning back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to play along—not yet. Anja deserved more than a rushed moment while his brother and his girlfriend were just down the hall.

Still, the thought of her in his T-shirt, of her curled up beside him, made it hard to resist.

—

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything else. Hockey stats. The weather. The existential dread of taxes.

Then the bathroom door clicked open.

Jack’s head snapped up.

Anja stepped out, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, darkened from the water, strands sticking to her collarbone. His breath stalled in his chest as his gaze drifted lower, catching on the oversized white T-shirt she’d chosen.

His T-shirt.

The fabric was old, worn thin from years of washing, clinging just enough to show the shape of her body. It barely covered her thighs, teasing at modesty—but when she moved, the dim light made the cotton damn near see-through. And under that shirt…nothing. Not even a pantie.

Jack’s grip on his phone tightened. Hard.

She knew what she was doing.

Anja smirked, catching the way his dark eyes flickered over her before he forced them back up. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. She crossed the room slowly, stepping onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate slowness. Her fingers traced over his bare arm, featherlight, enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head, “I could have brought my own pajamas.” Her smirk widened. “But this just felt… better.”

Jack swallowed hard, his back pressing against the headboard like it could somehow create space between them. He needed to slow this down. He needed to say something—anything—to keep himself in check.

“Anja…” His voice was low, rough, a warning.

She didn’t let him finish.

Curling up beside him, she let her lips graze his jawline, barely a whisper of contact. Jack went still, every muscle in his body wound tight. Her breath was warm against his skin, her presence intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Relax, Hughes,” she teased. “I know what I want.”

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to touch her. Badly. But if he did, there’d be no going back.

Anja’s fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, her nails tracing faint patterns across his stomach, slow, exploratory. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered against his ear. “Not just the careful version of you. I want all of you.”

Jack clenched his jaw, tilting his head back, fighting for control.

“Anja…” he ground out, his voice thick with restraint, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She shifted, straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t I?” she challenged, her gaze locked on his.

Jack knew that look. The same one she’d given him in the bookstore the first night they met—the night they sat there, arguing over War and Peace, the night he’d felt something shift inside him. That knowing, unwavering gaze.

“I saw you, Jack,” she said softly. “Not just the cocky hockey player everyone else sees. Not just the guy who acts like nothing gets to him. I saw You. And I think—no, I know—that we are perfect for each other. So stop fighting. Stop being afraid that being yourself will chase me away. I trust you. With my heart, with everything.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a breathless whisper.

“So take me, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint snapped like a frayed thread.

His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him. With a rough growl, he flipped them over, pressing her into the mattress, his body caging hers in.

His lips crashed onto hers, all heat, all desperation. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was every moment he’d held back, every time he’d wanted her and hadn’t let himself have her.

Jack’s hand slid up, fingers curling around her throat, firm enough to make her breath hitch. His grip wasn’t tight—just enough to remind her who was in control. He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing the soft gasp she let out.

Anja rocked her soaked core against his thigh, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging, demanding more.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath ragged, lips swollen, self-control slipping fast. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Luke and Thea are in the other room. And you won’t be quiet if we start, darling.”

His eyes locked onto hers���one last chance to stop him.

Anja arched up, pressing her body flush against his, nails scraping down his back, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her smile was wicked, teasing. “Pretty sure we’ve both heard enough of them to know they’re not exactly holding back.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice pure sin. “It’s our turn.”

Jack’s smirk was slow, dark—pure fucking trouble. That cocky, self-assured look that had driven her crazy since day one.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her throat, making her shiver. “You just opened Pandora’s box.”

[lttawnymadison]

TGCF Revised Version Afterword by MXTX

Since I kept seeing snippets of this, I wanted to read the whole thing for myself. I'd already bought the book on JJWXC and did an MTL for this. It's so wonderful that she's back and sharing new things and that the revised is finally done! - Tawny --------------------------------------------- The author has something to say:

Seeing the small red clay stove again.

———— Afterword of "Heaven Official's Blessing" 2022

■ Finally done!

Long time no see! It's another afterword starting with "finally." Without further ado, seasoned readers would know that I make substantial revisions. For instance, scenes like the Bai Feng Mountain Hunt and the ending recognition of Sizhui in the serial version of "Mo Dao Zu Shi" were not originally there.

The revisions in "Heaven Official's Blessing" are the most extensive of all my works. It was a huge project, as it is also the longest in terms of length, serialized over eight months. Due to poor health and other reasons, the revision process was interrupted for a long time before I picked it up again, and it sporadically took about five to six months over several years.

In the era of web novels, there are endless new entertainments, and honestly, not many people re-read a story. Plus, some problems in the serialized version are structural and can't be changed, but I still tried my best to address my regrets. After all, when I was serializing it, I was almost always in a feverish and sick state, barely pushing through. Additionally, I often enjoy comparing different versions of my favorite authors' works back and forth, finding pleasure in the process. So, for readers, discovering "Wow, this part has changed!" is like starting a new journey with Easter eggs in a second round.

■ The new revised version includes about 100,000 words of new content!

These 100k words are mainly concentrated in the latter half of Volume 1 and Volume 3, but there are plenty scattered throughout the text. For example, I fulfilled a promise to A-Hua, giving him several new outfits. Seeing A-Hua dressed beautifully in a new hairstyle to meet his gege made me happy.

In terms of the intensity of revisions, personally, I feel it goes like this:

Volume 1 and Volume 2 > Volume 3 > Volume 5 > Volume 4.

Additionally, the new version cuts some redundant words and plots that weren't very meaningful. However, I tried to keep all the original interactions between Hua Lian as complete as possible. If some minor interactions are missing, they weren't deleted but moved around.

■ One day, I suddenly dug out something.

An antique from 2017, a folder called "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection."

Curiously, I opened it and read with interest.

● Comparing the original setting outline and the main text, the highest fidelity is in the main storyline between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian.

A-Hua, restored at a ratio of 1:100.

Hua's character setting is the most detailed, and virtually every point made it into the main text, including details like "ghosts don't like the sun, so Hua Cheng sometimes drapes a red cloth over his head"...

Points not used, listed a few:

As a child:

· After being saved from falling off a city wall, he foolishly followed a parade over and over again, grabbing people to ask, "Who is that? Who is that person?" People told him, "That's the royal son, the future Celestial God, the most outstanding Crown Prince of Xianle Nation ever!"

(This point couldn't be used because in the text A-Hua was held in the Crown Prince's arms after being saved)

· At home, he was often punished to stand or kneel, not given food, and wore old clothes, accused of stealing money. Whenever he argued with his family, he would stubbornly sleep in the Prince's temple overnight.

· Went to Mount Tai Cang to volunteer sweeping red leaves at Huangji Observatory, just to sneak peeks at his future wife happily swinging.

After becoming the ghost king:

· One of his hobbies is buying and building houses everywhere.

· Very protective of his leather boots, would (badly) polish them until they shone.

· To other devout followers of Xie Lian, he said: "You have good taste."

· Secretly prepared many betrothal gifts for his beloved god, wanting to marry him!

The character setting of Xie Lian as a teacher in the serialized version compared to the initial draft, the serialized text subtly differs. The initial draft was more... exquisite and elegant, very serious. The serialized text is more... humorous. I think perhaps because some plot points were tragic, Xie Lian thought he should be happier to make the readers more relaxed, so he drove me to adjust his mental state! But due to the spiritual oppression at that time, the character's depth was not enough, while in the new revised version, I hope he can show a more self-content state on the same core basis.

Excerpts from the unused original setting:

· Super easy-going. Easy-going means: if given fifty bucks, he would happily dress in drag and dance. Accepts haggling. Thirty bucks works. Twenty bucks too!

· The observatory is small, the house is broken, wants to grow flowers. Leaks during rain, so he uses a bucket to catch rainwater.

· Because he can't afford a caretaker, he cleans himself, and also feeds chickens. Chickens eat flowers. Keeps a cat.

· Completely engrossed in discussing serious matters, he unknowingly finished all the broken sweet dumplings!

● Water, Earth, Wind original setting:

The highest fidelity is the main line between Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, followed by the Water, Earth, Wind subplot.

The main conflict hasn't changed. Just... how could the original setting of Water, Earth, Wind be so dark and terrifying!

The character morals in the main text improved a lot, otherwise, the original Black Water would be sheer scheming + murderous! The ending for the Wind Master would have been more tragic.

The Venerable of Empty Words suddenly became an improvised character. It seemed like an ancient fable-like monster, making the main text more interesting than the original setting.

Overall, the formal version is a bit better written than the original draft.

● The unfortunate life of Lang Ying:

Lang Ying? Is there such a character? I don't remember!

Ah? It seems there was such a person, but I don't remember any of his plotlines.

This is most people's feeling towards the character of Lang Ying. It's not a delusion because he barely had any significant plot. In fact, any valuable scenes could have been replaced equivalently, so in the new revised version, I deleted this character.

But, in the 2017 setting collection, I suddenly found that I had actually opened a separate document for Lang Ying, and his role was defined as a "growing-type BOSS!"

I was silent.

And immediately opened the document, curious about my initial setting. A "growing-type BOSS," how did he become someone whose deletion went unnoticed...? (I even don't know how to address him!)

Who knows, perhaps out of excitement, I accidentally pressed the wrong shortcut, and somehow it became irreversible, leaving only an empty document for me to stare in disbelief. The once "growing-type BOSS" has now forever become a mystery!

This is the unfortunate life of the deleted Lang Ying.

· There was another document in the setting collection called "Swordsmith." I opened the document and read it with interest.

I was shocked. Because I completely forgot I had conceived this story. Why didn't I write it?!

Darn.

I know why I didn't write it. This story... it had no ending!

——————— Thus, the magical glimpse into the "Heaven Official's Blessing Setting Collection" concludes!

■ I like men with stories!

Maybe because I watched an outstanding work as a child. It was a memoir, the protagonist in the biography was gentle and affable, and the protagonist in the memories was cold and ruthless. The story was scattered with the poignant fragrance of white plum blossoms amidst bloody and stormy circumstances.

This almost perfect work deeply influenced my aesthetics, leading me to be most interested in the memory parts of characters in various works. Although many viewers prefer the present scenes, often asking when the memories will end, I actually find these intense and painful memories to be the most fascinating!

A story is the history of a character, as well as the key to their personality. A person with a story stands before me like a puzzle. The way to solve this puzzle is to understand their story. Because the biography makes one curious to know more about a character they like, loving them more now because of their past. When serializing "Heaven Official," my greatest pain initially was telling myself, "This time I don't want to write a memory slaughter," deliberately trying to avoid a structure similar to previous works, yet I still hadn't found a better way to express it, resulting in my deep dissatisfaction with the later part of Volume 1. I was also hesitant to fully commit to the memory scenes in Volume 2, and with the heavy mental burden, this part was very painful to write. When revising, looking at Volume 2 was almost unbearable, because I'm the type of person who, as a child, would immediately switch channels when a TV show's protagonist was about to be wrongfully accused or embarrassed. I couldn't help but knock on a friend's door and ask:

Me: Was the author suffering some kind of mental trauma at the time? This negative energy is too horrifying, the protagonist is so pitiful, I really admire anyone who could read through Volume 2 completely.

Friend: Do you even have the right to say that?

But the memory slaughter in Volume 4 was much freer, written in one breath, so the revisions for this volume were also the least.

So, will you still write large segments of memory slaughter?

Um, well, we'll see, haha, hehe...

■ Closing Remarks:

Lastly, I'll address the question some asked me, "Will the new revised 'Heaven Official's Blessing' be more torturous?"

Me: You're talking nonsense. 'Heaven Official's Blessing' is a sweet pampering story, thank you!

Acknowledgments:

Shi Nai'an wrote in the preface to "Water Margin": "On snowy nights, about five or six people listen to my storytelling; on rainy days, about seven or eight; on bright and sunny days, about ten. I read, everyone listens, and we are all happy, with no other thoughts." When I read this as a young person, I was delighted. What divine days! Writing first to entertain oneself, then to entertain others. Self-expression and self-acceptance are certainly primary, but the affection of others is also a significant positive feedback. Thus, first, I thank the steadfast readers who have accompanied me all this time. I've thought about just walking away amidst the noisy disputes; abandoning the account amidst the tumultuous world! It seems not bad. But looking back, I can't bear to leave some truly sincere readers.

I've had authors I liked disappear from the internet, and I always feel like a part of my youth has vanished, a feeling quite distressing, reminiscent of overly grand and harsh things like the tears of the era or the torrent of history. So, I want to accompany my readers as long as possible, hoping that the day of parting comes later. Perhaps I'm not good enough now, but I will strive to be better in the future. Or perhaps you've never truly understood what kind of person I am, or even completely misunderstood me, but as long as you genuinely like my stories, we can sit down and chat.

And, I must mention my friends, who can be described as having the courage of a hero. Long time no see, Teacher Changyang's illustrations are still as beautiful as those of a celestial being, I hope Teacher CAS can go to bed earlier and worry less, and Teacher Kuohao, who despite a heavy workload, still fully honored our agreement. The "Heaven Official's Blessing" radio drama is really fantastic! It reminded me of the original intention of writing this story, and I was very moved. If it weren't for the silent companionship and efforts of these old friends, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu might have stopped writing back in 2016, disappearing from the world of martial arts, and thus, "Heaven Official's Blessing" would not have been born. I look forward to retracing the paths we once walked together when gathering ideas. And many friends who reached out to help and encourage me, thank you for accompanying me through the snowy nights.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Okay here we go

Does Stanfraud's eye still bleeds, like when Bill was possessing Ford or doesn't because of his bigger connection to Ford's body?

Is Stanfraud an uncle/big brother figure to Soos, like Stanley is his dad figure? Does Bill even care about him even a little😢

I know that the main focus of this au is on Bill, but since Stanley didn't try to pretend to be Ford, how did Stanley's and Filbrick's first meeting went after the whole "getting kicked out" thing"? Especially since both Stan and Ford were definitely broke at the time

You mentioned that Bill still has access to a little portion of his powers, what are they exactly?

Anyway your au is genuinely awesome and seeing it on my dash is always a huge treat 💛💛💛

Okay the first question I really want to answer because I’ve been thinking about this:

— His eye definitely bleeds on occasion. Even though he is far more connected to Ford’s body here, he’s still a demon possessing a host. He shouldn’t be there. There’s some outer force keeping him trapped. So I have thought about the fact there would probably be some lasting impacts on the body due to possession exposure for so long, such as the eye bleeding becoming a regular problem and gradual loss of vision in that eye. There may also be other physical impacts, but I’ll work on those when I manage to get down an official design for him.

— Great News! He is like Soos’ weird uncle! That may be where he learned to be somewhat decent around kids, honestly. He absolutely tried to mess with him at first, make jabs, tell him the date of his death, attempt to drive him to madness just a little (this is why Stan had to get rid of the last handyman), but Soos proved to be incorruptible and took all of Stanfraud’s weirdness in stride. Bill does end up caring about him. He goes as far as to liking their conversations. Soos keeps up with his chaos! Even Bill isn’t sure what’s going on in that head of his (when he gets his own body back he’s going to find out).

— Though Bill is the main focus of the plot-change, the other aspects are equally as important and so I’m glad they also have people’s interest! Their first meeting is… tense, to say the least. If Filbrick has any regrets, which I think I’ll leave up to interpretation, he’s far too stubborn a man to show them, and would rather dig himself further into a hole than admit he made a mistake. Stan desperately just wants to ignore all the scathing comments and get this little reunion over with, until Filbrick makes a comment about Ford, then Stan snaps. You can insult him, he probably deserves it, but not his brother. Sure, they may not be his brother right now, but the intent is there, and that’s what counts.

It cuts everything short, with Stan grabbing Fraud and telling him they’re leaving (He doesn’t complain).

With Filbrick, I do kind of want to explore their dynamic over the years while he’s still alive, especially with Stan, but also with how he’d treat ‘Ford’ and his odder behaviour. I don’t want to just make Filbrick a one-dimensional character though, as I think there’s a lot to be said about the cycle of abuse and parental projection so. While the AU may be based around the question ‘what if Bill got stuck possessing Ford?’ The answers it has lead me down a lot of different paths to explore — such as this!

— The powers he has access too lessen over time, but currently he is somewhat capable of seeing potential future outcomes (ciphervoyance), pyrokinesis, telekinesis, faster healing factor and teleportation. Note that all of these are in a much weaker state and drain Ford’s body and by extension Bill heavily — especially teleportation. Doing that once can cause him to pass out, so it’s more of an emergency thing, most his abilities are honestly. Too much focus is required.

And I’m so happy to be a little treat on your dash!! I hope you enjoy all this just as much!

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

12 Days of Christmas: 2024 Christmas Event

Day 7: Snowed In

Pairing: Four x Reader

Warning(s): N/A

Notes: I honestly love this one lol; did get a bit suggestive, but I'm keeping this clean for y'all.

Main Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Previous Day | Next Day

Well, you thought as you stared out the half-covered window into a veritable sea of freshly-fallen snow, there's no way I'm going to work today. It wasn't often that it snowed in your part of Hyrule, and even rarer that it reached the awe-inspiring height of what had to be mid-thigh on you. Fuck that, you might as well use those vacation days you'd saved up for moments like these, especially when your boss was a tiny old lady who lived a mile up the road, meaning she wouldn't be caught dead wading through the catastrophe that was last night's blizzard.

There was a creak, and you were torn from your thoughts when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. "You're up early," Four murmured against your shoulder, his breath puffing across the bared skin where your tunic sagged, and you couldn't help but huff a laugh at the countless memories of him waking before dawn. Sometimes it was nightmares, and occasionally insomnia, but you'd found it was usually to get a head start in the forge. You had no complaints, especially when he wore that sleeveless tunic beneath his heavy apron. A contemplative silence followed. The snow outside continued to fall. "...You're not going to work, are you?"

You shook your head, placing your hand over his clasped ones. "Not a chance, I value my life."

"Good, I was worried," came his smartass response, and you smacked his wrist in retribution. "Sorry, sorry, I was distracted."

You shouldn't; it was a trap of the highest caliber, primed and waiting. Despite this revelation, you opened your mouth for something that wasn't food or dick and took the painfully obvious bait. "By what?"

Four pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder before delivering the very blatant, very terrible punchline: "You."

"Wow, for realsies?!" You gushed, and the sheer force of his eye roll could have broken down more doors than you'd seen the knights of Hyrule do on their off-time.

"You're a menace, you know that?"

You didn't even try to contain your glee. "Absolutely. It's my best trait."

Four, unfortunately, was less than impressed. "That's beside the point," he huffed, the tip of his nose ghosting over your flesh.

"Actually, I think it is the point," you shot back, giggling when he held you a bit tighter, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that made you want to take the holiday festivities to the bedroom. Again. "But since you're so desperate to change the subject since I'm obviously right, how do suppose we spend our first official snow day?"

"I have a few ideas," responded your boyfriend, a little too casually to be completely innocent.

"Oo, like that creaky floorboard by the kitchen?" you asked like the little shit you were. "Or that very dangerous loose nail on the porch?"

"Actually–"

"Or! Didn't you say the forge needs a deep clean?" you smirked, turning around in his grip to wrap your own arms around his shoulders, giggling when the point of his nose brushed your sternum.

Four's eyes narrowed, and you swore they flashed a bright, brilliant blue before fading to a familiar, muddy green. Despite the height difference, his gaze made you feel like he was at least a foot taller. "It will when I'm done with you."

"Wow, no breakfast first?" you joked, watching as the tips of his ears pinked, though there was nary a crack in the expression he was giving you.

There it was; a deep, unfiltered violet. "Who said I wouldn't be eating?"

Well, hot diddly darn, he had you there.

Despite the many, many innuendos shared between you and Four throughout the morning, the forge remained mercifully undefiled, which was a miracle unto itself.

You didn't flinch when the Hero of the Four Sword tugged your arm, expression drawn. "It's no problem, I can–"

"No," you adjusted your bandana and glared at the top corner of the room, where a large spiderweb resided. Let it never be said that you two skimped on cleaning duties, but the frequent adventuring had taken a larger toll than you originally assumed. "I've got this, Link. You're too young, too beautiful."

"You say that like you're not–"

"Hush, beloved," you used your free hand to press a finger to his lips, making sure to sound as dramatic as possible. Fuck common sense, you wanted to be ungovernable. That, and the romance novels you'd taken to in his absence. "With love comes sacrifice, and this is mine. Do not despair, my fate is sealed."

Four's gaze was one of amused exasperation. He released your arm, running a hand through his stick-straight strands. "At least let me get you a chair? We both know that broom isn't long enough."

"If you must," you simpered, leaning on the broom like an overly emotional maiden, just shy of placing the back of your hand across your forehead. "Know this: every second lost is a sweet sorrow, my love."

"...How do you feel about expanding your reading horizons to nonfiction?" your boyfriend asked dryly, irises swelling with a familiar purple color.

"Gasp!" You slapped a hand over your heart. "Blasphemy!"

Even though Four was pretending to be unamused, not even a fool couldn't miss the way the corners his mouth ticked upwards. "...I'll get that chair."

"You're the man," you grinned.

"I'm the man."

You were ready; the chair was properly positioned beneath the web and the broom was appropriately brandished in your dominant hand, aimed directly at the bane of your sleep schedule. That damn spider.

"You've got this," Four encouraged from below, holding the chair to prevent it from tottering. "Remember: strike quickly to disarm your opponent."

"Got it," you said, eyes trained on said opponent. The broom was no sword, but it might as well have been in your hands. "Strike quickly... like a bee. A really quick bee."

"Buzz buzz," were Four's next words as his intrusive thoughts won once again.

"Fuck yeah, baby," you grinned, drawing your arm back, pointing the base of the broom at the web. "Buzz me up."

"Oh, I'll–"

It happened so quickly. You inhaled. Exhaled. Prepared yourself for the possibility of failure, though it was hardly an option. Then, you struck, slamming your broom into the epicenter of the woven threads with a dull thud.

Then, out of nowhere, a dark blur whizzed past your face, and you felt something land in your hair.

You couldn't help it. You screamed.

"Oh my Hylia!"

It was on you; it was fucking on you!!

You shrieked again when something skittered across your scalp, practically tearing your bandana off to dislodge the creature, which was your second mistake of the afternoon. The bandana, complete with a small black blog clinging to the edge, sailed downwards, splatting against Four's very confused, very shocked face.

"Wha–" The hero let out a muffled sound of bafflement, tearing the cloth away from his beautiful face, and promptly gasped when he caught sight of the very alive, very fast addition. His hands scrabbled to remove it, but the fucker was quick. "By the three–!?"

Amid the chaos, you managed to hop down from the chair, brandishing your broom like a weapon of m-ass destruction, feeling nearly feral from the adrenaline rushing through your veins. "Stay still!"

Four's gaze snapped up, and you caught the very second he registered your next move. Terror coated his expression. "WAIT–!"

You whacked the broom against his chest, screaming in terror when the spider skittered onto the thick bristles, heading straight for you. A string of curses left your mouth, and you would have been impressed with their variety had you not feared for your very life, flinging the object away like it had burned you.

It clattered to the floor. The spider escaped. You felt ready to pass out.

Slowly, you turned to Four, wheezing and clutching his chest. Slowly, you spoke.

"...Fire rod?"

A determined expression crossed the hero's face. He straightened. "Fire rod."

Gotta put some holiday fails SOMEWHERE lol.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Act 4 Prologue (Matias Asbrink)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

At the same time, in Acroite.

Large snowflakes fluttered down like flower petals, painting the traditional stone-built streets white.

The main street, illuminated by street lamps, was bustling with crowds of people. However, there were no troublemakers here, no drunken shouts or fights like in other countries.

In this country, governed by the strictest laws on the continent, those who disturb the peace are quickly apprehended and held accountable for their crimes.

Yet amidst the orderly and well-maintained streets, there was a corner where women gathered unnaturally.

Woman 1: “Please join me at the lovely party I’m having tonight.”

Woman 2: “That’s not fair. Please also come to my party.”

Woman 3: “Where are you off to at this hour? If you’re interested, would you like to join me for dinner?”

Matias: “I have work to attend to. Please excuse me.”

Slipping smoothly out of the midst of the women, with his golden hair gathering the twilight’s glow and snow-shadowed eyes tinged with melancholy, was Matias, the guardian of Acroite’s law.

Though his appearance and demeanor were stern, there was an alluring aura about him that made the women gaze at him dreamily.

Matias: “Haah.”

With a sigh, he casually brushed back his smooth blond hair, eliciting another round of cheers from the women behind him.

A colleague, a judge, then playfully tapped his back as he swiftly walked away to escape their intense stares.

Lars: “Quite the charmer, as always, huh? Matias.”

Pushing up his round glasses, the man smiled teasingly at Matias, and his expression changed to a more relaxed one.

Matias: “Lars, if you saw that, you could’ve helped me.”

Matias: “You know I struggle with women.”

Lars: "I know, but having too many admirers is honestly a problem I envy. I wish I could trade places with you."

Matias: "You wish you could trade places with me? Did you see those women? They had the eyes of warriors determined to annihilate their enemies."

Lars: "I think they were all beauties, though."

Matias: "Whether they're beautiful or not doesn't matter. The only woman I need is my soulmate."

Matias: "She doesn't need to dote on me or stare at me like those women. All she needs to do is wish me luck, fix my tie, give me a kiss, and wave goodbye before I head to work."

Lars: "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I've heard about your embarrassing fantasies more than a hundred times, Matias."

Lars: "Are you alright, though?"

Matias: "I've been saying it since earlier, but I'm not okay. You have to back me up next time."

Lars: "I meant about the trial. The defendant this time is your friend, right?"

Matias: "Ah, yeah. We were roommates for a while back in the Royal Academy. We enlisted together and served in the same unit."

Lars: "You were close then."

Matias: "He was a good guy. Cheerful, smart, and quick-witted. He was good with women too, effortlessly handling situations like earlier."

Lars: "I see. Matias, about that..."

Matias' snow-shadow-colored eyes gaze straight at his colleague, looking somewhat uneasy.

Matias: "It's fine."

Matias: "I'm a man of the Asbrink family."

The Royal Court, which determines the nation’s justice, was filled with a solemn atmosphere tonight.

The defendant and his defense attorney, the government officials prosecuting his crimes, and numerous citizens in the gallery all watched with bated breath as the five judges, especially the guardian of the law, sat atop the judicial platform.

Matias: “I’ll now deliver the verdict on the suspicion of unauthorized leakage of classified Acroite military information.”

Matias: “Defendant, step forward.”

The defendant stepped onto the witness stand.

Though looking severely worn out, his eyes, fixed on the guardian of the law, held a faint glimmer of hope.

It was well known among some circles that the defendant had a friendship with the guardian.

As everyone sought to interpret the meaning behind the intersecting gazes, the sound of the gavel resounded.

Matias: “Death penalty.”

After delivering the merciless verdict, the courtroom fell into a brief silence before erupting into chaos.

Defendant: “Matias, are you really going to kill me!? Me, who ate, slept, and fought alongside you? We're friends, aren't we!?”

Defendant: “You can’t do this!”

While the defendant cried out in despair, Matias appeared entirely unaffected.

Matias: “That does not excuse your crime.”

Defendant: “Isn’t a death sentence too heavy for a single mistake?”

Matias: "The law is justice. If you are a citizen of Acroite, obedience is absolute."

Matias: "All you can do is comply with the verdict that has been passed down."

With a detached voice, Matias continued to gaze directly at the collapsing defendant, seemingly in despair.

Matias: "The execution will be carried out in five days, at noon."

Defendant: "M-Matias..."

As the defendant was taken away, Matias watched them with his snow-shadow-colored eyes.

To dispel the murmurs, he struck the gavel twice.

Matias: "This concludes the session."

As the people left the courtroom in silence, he stood alone.

It was unusual for him to stay in the courtroom after it had adjourned, without a clear reason.

Walking to the spot where the defendant had collapsed during the trial, he gently touched the witness stand with his fingers.

Though his snow-shadowed eyes flickered slightly, he murmured with the same emotionless voice as during the trial.

Matias: "I did the right thing."

Matias: "I'm Matias, the next king of Acroite, a proud man of the esteemed Asbrink family."

Matias: "Until all evil is condemned, I cannot afford to stop."

☆ Ikepri Masterlist

[dollyyss]

The idea of the main four + butters and how they comfort you when you’re sad and distant?

Idk I be in my feels lately 😭🙏 BUT UR WRITING IS SO GOOD PLEASE

I’m actually getting some requests and I’m so fucking thrilled you have no idea, but I’m trying to push this one out as soon as possible to try and cheer you up!!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The main four + butters comforting reader who’s been sad and distant.

Established Reltionship ₊ ⊹

All characters are aged up! Highschool AU! ‧₊˚✩彡

Kyle, Stan, Kenny, Cartman and Butters 𐙚

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of being sick in Stan’s part,

Kyle 🐇𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒🪐

- He’s the problem solver, the “tell me what it is I’ll fix it” rather then the one to comfort right away. Kyle isn’t so great with emotions, right away at least.

-He’s probably confused at first. He try’s to give you your space as that’s what you seem you need since you’re being so distant from him. But even when he is giving you your space, any class you two have together he’s glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re okay. He’ll take down extra notes for you if he notices that you’re just not participating.

-He’s worried for you, when school is over and you won’t even let him drive you home like he usually does? That’s when he speaks to you.

-He finds you in the crowd of high school students getting ready to go home, on your phone putting your earbuds in to walk home until a large hand grips your shoulder “baby what are you doing?!” You look back at Kyle in slight shock not exactly knowing who was touching you at first. “Home?” It was the first time you spoke to him today and though he was worried about you he was at least happy you finally spoke. “Well I waited by your locker.. and when you didn’t show up I figured you’d be at my car, let me take you home please” he grabs your gloved hand and leads you to the car and once you arrive you take your hand out of his. This causes him to close his eyes tight and turn to look at you “look. Y/N I have no idea what is going on with you today okay and I’d love to help you but you can’t push yourself away from me. I understand if you don’t want to tell me but please don’t ignore me. When you’re ready to tell me we can fix the issue.” You look up at him with slight teary eyes and he’s a bit taken back “can you just hold me..?” Your voice is what breaks him. “I’ve just been really tired.. I’ve been stressed I just.. was having an off day..” Oh. He feels bad now for looking at the more logical side and wanting to fix it when all you really needed was for him to just be there. He slowly leans his back against the passenger door and pulls you in by your arm, his hands gripping onto you tight and pressing his chin to your head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you just needed me..” you snuggle into his open jacket, his warmth engulfing you as his thumbs rub at your back. “I love you, yknow that? But don’t ignore me next time please.”

Stan .° ༘🎧⋆🖇₊˚ෆ

- I think Stan gets a bit distant himself when you get like this. He doesn’t understand why you’re closing him out and not speaking to him so like Kyle he kind of lets you be. But I think it’s more due to his own insecurities. Wendy was like this before they broke up officially. So seeing you get cold on him.. he wants to throw up but not out of butterfly nerves no out of actual fear that you’re just breaking up with him. Buts it’s not the case, you’ve just had a really shit day and honestly all you wanted was Stan.

- once he’s done throwing up out of actual fucking fear he’s shaking to find you because it hits him that.. you’re just upset. And he shouldn’t be freaking out like this.

- “Jesus Christ Stan.” Kyle wraps Stan back up in his jacket as he stands back up, wiping his bottom lip and flushing the toilet rid of his vomit. “Just talk to them, I’m sure they’re just upset, maybe all they need is a hug, I don’t know maybe some time with their boyfriend” Kyle notes as he grabs Stans hat off the floor and swallowing slightly disgusted at how damp it was from Stan sweating so much from getting sick. “Maybe dude I don’t know they’re not usually like this when they get upset they’ve never been so cold to me like this.” There was silence as they walked out of the boys bathroom “there’s no harm in trying.” The ginger stated as he handed back Stan’s hat and walked off to get ready for his next class. When Stan found you, you were closing up your locker and running your hands through your hair. It was clear you were tired, your eyes had almost been weighed down, your hair was slightly messy, your coat seemed baggier, you just looked. Sad. Stan approached you softly taking you into his arms “Stan, there are like.. a shit ton of people around us right now.” He only sighed and placed his head in the crook of your neck “just, stand here for a minute please. I know you’re upset and I’m sorry I hadn’t realized sooner” he swayed you side to side for a moment, taking in his cigarettes and cologne before looking up at him. “Thank you..” he hummed gently before placing a kiss to your forehead, pushing back your hair “come to my place after school? We can watch a movie, anything you want. “Sure Marsh..” you paused for a moment “did you.. get sick.?” You looked up at him with curious eyes before he placed a hand on your face and pushed you softly “shut up.”

Kenny ₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉

-there is no being distant with Kenny. He knows when you’re upset and he acts on it so fucking fast. The minute he sees your eyes have changed in demeanour he’s there in a heart beat.

-He’ll never pry you with questions, he’ll never make you talk about It if you aren’t comfortable in the moment. He lets you take your time and he’s there for you to use to feel better. He’s always aware when something is off with you, he knows when something is too much for you, or you just need a moment. Kenny may be a little ass hat but he’s very aware and caring when it comes to you.

-“ Clyde you’re actually such a fucking dumbass” Kenny spoke up. His arm had been around your shoulders, both sitting in the cafeteria while Kenny spoke to his friends. The toothpick between his lips twirled between as him and Clyde went back and forth ripping on each other, for no reason at all. “You really think Bebe still likes you? News flash pretty boy she doesn’t, should have seen her at the party last night trying to get with every fucking jock she laid her eyes on” Clyde and him both laughed as Clyde punched his arm in a playful manner. As the rest of the boys chimed in Kenny softly looked at you. “Hey you, you’ve been quiet you okay?” His hand softly rubs at your shoulder, taking his toothpick out of his mouth and placing it on the food tray. You slowly nod your head before looking down at your hands; fidgeting with them. “No you’re not.. is everything too much for you right now? Too loud?” You look at him a bit teary eyed and he had his answer. He got up with you grabbing your hand and grabbing your book bag to walk with you through the back of the cafeteria doors that lead to some stairs behind the school. Once he got to the steps he set your book bag down, sat you on his lap and took his parka off to place over your body. “Kenny you’re gonna catch a cold.” You stated sniffling as he shook his head “don’t worry about me pretty baby, you’re what’s important right now” you rest your head on his shoulder, your arms coming to wrap around his neck and you cuddle into him. He lets you sit in silence with him, closing your eyes and relaxing into him.

Cartman 🎧✮🧺✧˖°

-Mm. Rather then the hugger he’s the stupid fuck that does stupid shit to make you smile. He’ll kinda go to outrageous lengths to get your attention, because he’s an attention whore for you so shut up.

-he honestly doesn’t like when you’re upset because he says it kills his mood but he also just wants you to be happy with him. So what’s better then to ruin someone’s else’s day just to make you feel better. He may or may not also buy you some food and a stuffed animal to cheer you up.. because him dicking around gets him a scolding from you.

-“.. what? What do you want me to say? I’m not saying sorry. That Jew totally deserved it.” You cocked a brow at him, arms crossed and foot slightly tapping on the ground as you looked up at him. Cartman swallowed. “Babe.. babe listen to me okay? I’ve always hated that ginger devil spawn anyway okay it was coming to him sooner or later” he said in a soft tone to cheer you up in which you only rolled your eyes at him. He sighed and looked down “I’m sorry.. here..” he grabbed the large bear and McDonald’s from the porch and placed them in your hands. “Now do you forgive me..? Will you be you again, you’re kinda killing my vibe here” “cartman you stupid fucking idiot.” A laugh escapes your lips when you take the food and bear and place them on your stairs. You pull him into a hug and kiss his cheek “I’m not an idiot..” he mumbles but smiles ever so slightly into the hug knowing that he was able to make you happy even if it wasn’t him doing some stupid shit to Kyle. At least he managed.

Butters ˚☆🐈*๑

-…He’s crying. I mean it. He’s balling his eyes out. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do when you won’t talk to him and you distance yourself from him. The boy is about 10 seconds from having a god damn panic attack.

-he’s gentle with you, he’ll pull out some colouring pages for you to do because he knows how much they calm him down and put him in a better state of mind so he lets you colour some. He’ll even print out any specific ones you like. And he’s there. At your hip. Not leaving your side until you have a smile on your face.

-he becomes really touchy, when you tell him you just aren’t having a good day he understands and he pulls you in close to him, his head resting in yours while he listens to your rant about anything that’s bothering you.

- “darlin.. your quiet, very quiet” his hands interlock together before pulling apart and his fingers then pick at his other fingers. “Well I don’t quite like you like this..” he mumbles to himself before he’s biting his lip. You look up at him with a gentle look, teary but gentle and he could fall apart right there. He almost starts crying with you “oh dear! Oh gosh heaven above!” He’s rushing towards you instantly his hands quickly finding anything warm to wrap you in and pull you to his chest “you wanna colour! It’ll help you stop thinkin’!” He brings up the option and if you say yes he’s practically flying towards his colouring sheets, many having intricate designs and patterns and some being simple. “Pick which ever one you’d like” he grabs some art supply’s and displays it all on his bedroom floor for you. “Butters..” he cocked a brow looking up at the sound of his name “hm?” You look at him gently and place a kiss to his chin “I’m sorry if I was being distant, just not having a good day is all..” you lean against him. “Well that’s alright! We all have those days, you can’t have good ones without em, you just scared me a little that’s all.. heh” he pushes some hair out of your face and squishes his cheek against yours. “You uh, you wanna talk about it?” With a quick nod he immediately is sitting criss cross beside you, his arms around you as you colour and rant to him about how you felt. His lips press to the back of your shoulder and he watches you contently listening to every single word that poured out of your lips. His hands rub your sides and he’s staring as lovingly as possible at you.

[alevolpe]

Hi, I hope you’ve been doing well!

I love your art and interpretations of the characters, especially in regard to your ideas about each senshi’s fuku design. I was wondering if you had any particular opinions on the official Classic, Super, and Eternal forms? Anything like design elements of the fuku to even the colors for each senshi? Apologies if you’ve been asked something like this, I just really enjoy your thoughtful responses you give in your asks.

Thank you so much! Means a lot.

I don’t have a lot of opinions on the forms past the Classic forms, I don’t hate them, but I just feel a bit.. indifferent. I know people like them, but I don’t tend to think about power-up forms very often, I just love the base forms too much.

Regarding if I have any problems with them, yeah. They do tend to fall a bit under the redesign upgrade problem a lot of shows and even games characters have. When trying to freshen up a design, a lot of them tend to trip over themselves and just take “redesign” as “over design” aka add more shit or overcomplicate shit.

Now Sailor moon does NOT have too much of that, overall the upgraded designs are not too bad. Not my favs, but not bad.

Let’s take a look at them shall we. (For the sake of brevity I’ll just keep this discussion on Sailor Moon’s design and not the other senshi. Mostly cause she gets changes the most and secondly cause their changes are not as prominent)

I LOOOVE Sailor Moon’s original design, her classic fuku is Classic for a reason. The deep navy blue and magenta red fit her so well and they help make the blonde of her hair, tiara and smalldecorative moons pop.

Her silhouette is very simple, it has a very nice flow with her hair being the only long element, allowing for fluidity but most importantly clarity. Her nice soft hair buns, bangs and lack of sharp angles in her uniform work amazingly through shape language (made a post about it here) to make a comforting and friendly appearance.

Also small note but I adore how her bangs and tiara come together to form a quite subtle but present heart shape. (She’s so cute)

Now her Super form is honestly.. pretty good! Doesn’t beat the original, but I like the direction. The stronger incorporation of white ties nicely to the element of her becoming queen in the future, adorning a white gown. The splashes of color on the skirt are also a nice touch, reminds on of bleeding soft watercolor runnning down a blank page, fits with her butterfly theme too (this part makes sense in my head, hopefully u get it).

Now to the not so good part, the shape.. she’s so sharp. It’s NOT a dealbreaker, I think it could work with the theme of her growing more into her role as Sailor Moon, gaining confidence and thus allowing herself to appear a lil more dangerous, but still soft. It’s important that the sharp angles present in her uniform do not interfere with the hair shape, the buns are still there, as soft as ever.

And now to her Eternal form. I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it either. Weirdly enough my main problem with it is not what seems to bother everyone else, the bubble sleeves, but the colors. I don’t like the colors. The blonde of her hair is now mixed in her skirt, the classic soft magenta red is turned into sharp deep red, the color of her bubble sleeves is really distracting cause it’s the only pink element present and the skirt triple layer ending up of the darkest color does not allow the eye to slide off it to the shoes easily (unlike say if it was darkest color to lightest from top to bottom, instead of the opposite).

The color reversal on the shoes is not a deal breaker either, again that “white taking over” theme is nice, but it’s like.. broken. Her skirt is back to being colored more than before so the thematic washing of the colors is undone in this form, instead taken over by a various assortment of bold colors.

I also think that the angel theme was slightly overdone, the 2 pairs wings on her back pair with the wings on her broach are just a bit too much for me and overcomplicate the simplicity of her broach. It’s like, do you get she’s an angel yet?! Here, have another pair of wings!

Lastly, it rlly bums me to see her nice simple silhouette being muddled by the wings, even though I don’t hate the wings themselves. Just what they do to her silhouette.

Overall I think I tend to have more problems with the uniforms than most people cause they do follow a theme that most people LIKE in sailor moon, which is a regular average girl becoming something larger than life, but idk.. the original uniform just gives off that vibe of the friendly down to earth girl who everyone knows in town. It brings a sense of unity and space in a way, cause it feels more urban, while the other uniforms start incorporating more and more abstract themes which, to me, take a bit away from the flawed but relatable comfort of this messy, imperfect, but trying her best Usagi Tsukino who’s wearing a uniform to help the people she loves around her.

[sunflowersteves]

just to see you smile || m.o.

pairing || Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

summary || as Spider-Man, Miguel was forced to be prepared for many situations, like multi-universal travel, but losing you and Gabriella wasn't one of them.

author's note || do i only know how to make angst for this man bc damn

warnings || grief, main character death (reader), heavy angst, some fluff, potential spoilers, gabriella isn't the reader's child, miguel is anti-therapist, non-canon (sorry miguel ik)

masterlist

“I thought I might find you here,” Peter says. Mayday makes grabby hands at Miguel beside her, little chubby fingers grabbing onto his soft sweater. Peter looked down, taking note of the fresh, bright marigold flowers and the sweet, sugary bread that sat on top of the gravestone. 

Miguel’s eyes closed—breathing in and out of his nose as if to control the space around him. It was getting harder and harder, though, as time passed on. 

It had officially been three years. One-thousand nine-hundred and five days.

Miguel didn’t say a single word. He just stared at the gravestone in front of him, hoping that Peter would leave. If Mayday wasn’t here, he definitely would have left by force, if needed. 

“C’mon, I’ve told you before.” Mayday giggled and babbled at her father’s words. “You need to talk to someone about this stuff.”

He paused, gauging Miguel’s softened expression on the engraved stone. “You already know the damage you’ve done—t-to Miles.”

This time, Miguel just scoffed. He turned to Peter, and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of his friend. Miguel had large bags under his eyes and a familiar pain that was etched across his face—one that Peter knew too well. “Yes, I’m sure Ezekial Sims from Earth-616 will solve all of my problems and grant all of my wishes.”

Peter just sighed and subtly rolled his eyes. They stood in silence, with the occasional babble from Mayday. Peter, though, just continued to stare at the man in front of him. 

He was broken—pieces of him scattered across the memories of you and his daughter. It was all he seemed to think about in the shining sunlight or the dark, drastic moonlight. 

 “All I need is them, Pete.”

Peter nodded in understanding. He knew. He understood that kind of deep-set pain never went away, but Peter also knew that everything eventually got better. No, it wasn’t time. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, as the saying goes. 

Miles helped Peter. Miles dug Peter out from the sinking hole that he had been placed in by life and the atrocities that continued around him. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t sulking. It wasn’t crying in the shower.

It was Miles. The goofy, talented, and crazy smart kid made Peter realize he needed to take that leap of faith. He got therapy, cleaned himself up, and he got better. Honestly, for Miguel, Peter wasn’t sure the last time he saw the brooding man laugh—let alone smile at anyone or anything. 

What Peter didn’t know was that Miguel smiled quite often.

He smiled when he looked at the glass-shattered photo of you in his bedroom. He smiled at the video of you and his daughter making a mess in the kitchen. He smiled as he daydreams about what you would do if you saw him now with every single Spider-person in all of the universes. He smiled at the video he took of you on the beach with the sand scratching against your leg and wind blowing against your dress.

So in his defense, he smiles all the time. 

“C’mon, Miguel, stop!” You laughed. It was loud and boisterous against his ears, and he wanted to cherish the sound for all of eternity. 

He held onto you even tighter, the waves crashing up against his knees. His smile is bright—just as bright as yours. “I made a promise, pumpkin. If you don’t shout the words, I’ll drop you.”

You squealed in anticipation, and your hands only seemed to latch onto his shoulders even more. “date prisa ahora.” He whispers against your ear. You only seemed to grip onto him tighter, but your smile seemed even wider.

“Okay, okay!” You breathe, shoving your head into his neck. “Humph. Humph.” 

Miguel grinned. If you saw him now, you would see a certain teasing gleam in his eyes. “What was that? I can’t hear you, pumpkin.”

You screeched again in his arms as he faked a slip of your form. He was still grinning ear to ear, and he couldn’t get enough of the laughter that bubbled up around your protests to him.

Something deep and connected possessed his entire chest. He could feel that ounce of love that blossomed beneath his heart and prodded against his stomach.

“I love you!” You shouted. Some of the fellow vacationers along the beach had turned their heads at the booming sound. Miguel laughed—the sound rumbling against his chest, and it made you bounce in his arms. 

“Was that so hard?” His arms tightened around the underside of your neck and the other holding up your legs. He slowly, yet surely, backed up from the roaring ocean and cascading waves. 

“Extremely, and I’ll never say it again,” You teased. 

Miguel gasped in defense, placing a hand on his chest. Without the support, you shrieked and grabbed onto his shoulder. “Miguel!”

He shook his head, his smile only widening as he just couldn’t help it. “And just when I thought I was gonna say it right back, pumpkin.”

Miguel opened his eyes. Peter was still there with his daughter, which prompted a gut-punching sigh to release from his lips. He shook his head, desperately wanting the memory to no longer sear against his brain. He wanted it to be real.

“Just know you’re not alone, man.”

He nods. The pain of your passing. The ache of Gabriella’s passing. It was all becoming too much. He didn’t think it would hurt anybody, let alone the two of you. 

But he did. He really, really did. 

With that, Peter takes his leave. May had most likely needed a nap by now and was going to take her home to Mary Jane. He looked back one last time, and he swore he almost missed it.

A single tear slid down Miguel’s face as his eyes stayed locked onto the two headstones. It was as if his eyes couldn’t leave—like you and Gabi would be gone if he did. 

Ultimately, he knows he’s not alone. He’s never alone—not as long as yours and Gabriella’s memories are still etched into his brain.

He’s never alone. 

Miguel rubs his eyes, the sleep that hovered around them still prominent. He looked over to the bedside table to read the clock. 4:45 am. 

He heard a crash of pots and pans in the kitchen. A smile rose onto his face at the sound of laughter in the kitchen. He quietly puts on some pants that were discarded on the floor.

He then shuffles over to the door of the bedroom, and his feet pad against the wooded hallway. He hears another crash and then a gasp. His ears perch at the sound, and his shoulders tense—his mind thinking the worst. Then, his large frame sags in relief as he hears another fit of laughter and giggles. 

He finally makes his way into the kitchen, and it was a sight to be seen. Miguel leans on the doorframe while he watches you and his daughter. You two are covered in flour and sugar—from head to toe.

“Gabi!” You laughed, wiping some of the sticky dough from your cheek. She had just smeared some across your face in an attempt to get you back for getting chocolate on her arm.

“I got you!” She yells in glee. You laugh again at her antics and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, kid. You definitely got me that time.”

Her eyes shine brightly up at you, and then they see the tall form in the corner of the kitchen. “Papa!” 

She runs over to him and crashes him into a hug. You turn around and smile at a very sleepy Miguel. You were tired too, but you also didn’t have a spider verse to run. 

“Gabi had insomnia again.” He nods in response. God, he was really tired. It was starting to become unbearable as his eyes slid close again. “Want to try a cookie?”

He decided right then and there. Fuck sleep. How the fuck could he say no to that?

Miguel blinked. He blinked once more. Before he knew it, tears cascaded down his face at the sweet memory of his family. 

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t sob. He didn’t cry out. He just stood there and let the tears drip onto the grass. 

Miguel, you’re never alone. He reminds himself.

He is never alone.

[violetmuses]

Tandem - Multifandom Crossover ❤️‍🩹

Title: Tandem - Multifandom Crossover ❤️‍🩹

Fandoms: “Rebel Ridge” + “Bad Boys” 

Characters: Terry Richmond + Armando Aretas

Love Interest: Female Reader 

Main Storyline: When Terry Richmond arrives in Miami, who knows what could happen next?

Tandem Masterlist

@peaxhygirl @superstar-t20 @adoresmiles @klssngss @deja-r @hyper-trash-panda @amethyst-loves-bucky @planetblaque @sweettea-and-honeybutter @lovedlover @xjjawsomex @readingisahobby @kindofaintrovert @nelo0wesker @gg-trini @cloveroctobers @maliagurl @nobodygetsza @twinklestarslight @yassbishimvintage @sweetiepie4190 @persethegawd @mangoes03 🏷

=====

2024

Relocating to Miami, veteran Terry Richmond wanted to start life all over again after escaping the rural and dangerous town of Shelby Springs. 

Upon entry, the new apartment offered more than enough space. Justice grounded some peace, but even with his cousin avenged, time still burned. 

After taking this much-needed shower to clear emotions, Richmond dumped the weathered backpack and organized his very few items. 

Learning the brand-new area, Terry signaled that elevator and chimed down. Modern decor prolonged this lobby as sunlight illuminated. 

Just before Richmond headed outside, one different man entered the building. 

Detective Mike Lowrey of the Miami Police Department would introduce himself to staff members. 

“Someone will move here, but we'll handle everything.” Lowrey took charge. 

Red and blue overcasts crossed that Florida skyline. Even sirens wailed. 

What the hell? Terry thought. 

Just when Richmond planned to ask questions, the entrance opened. 

Officials escorted this handcuffed man right into the complex and Richmond's nerves heightened with each passing moment. 

“Yo, what's going on? You good, man?” Terry almost gritted his teeth. 

This guy named Armando Aretas wouldn't respond at first. 

Wearing this Bud Light shirt, Aretas chose one trucker hat that veiled his brown eyes. Jeans covered both legs and boots stepped along. 

“It's fine, we got it.” Lowrey noticed Richmond's concern and tried to settle this problem down. 

“What in the world?” Several people offered questions as well. 

Yet when police unfastened Armando's handcuffs, voices shared relief in all directions. 

“Come with us.” Lowrey gestured to Richmond and led Aretas near the elevator. 

“Yes, Sir.” No matter what, Terry offered respect as all three individuals moved upstairs. 

________

“It's a long story, but Armando is my son.” Lowrey stood in the hall with Richmond once Aretas settled his own apartment. 

“Why bring out that police motorcade?” Terry squinted. 

“Like I said, it's a long story. Just know that he works for the department now.” Lowrey explained. 

“Aight.” Terry cleared his throat. “If he's not in trouble, I'll feel better honestly. Thank you.” 

“You're welcome.” Detective Lowrey excused himself from Richmond and returned to Armando's space.

Time would explain what happens now. 

*****

Armando woke up as sunlight greeted the bedroom windows. Gaining this furnished apartment, he organized essentials yesterday. 

Packing his new laptop bag, Aretas left to “explore.” 

Reaching the hallway, Armando pinged this elevator and noticed that someone joined. 

“Terry.” Richmond ended up clipping his name first. 

“Armando.” Aretas wouldn't make eye contact, but followed Terry's lead with introductions. 

“You good?” Terry repeated his genuine question from yesterday. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Armando accepted Terry's kindness. 

Heading outside, both men walked in silence as vibrant lanes of South Beach lined up. 

Cheerful voices beamed and upbeat music played out loud from vehicles while Terry acknowledged surroundings. 

“Found a coffee shop.” Richmond pointed near one storefront and welcomed Armando past its threshold. 

“Good catch.” Aretas moved. 

_____

“Morning. Could I have some black coffee and a muffin, please?” This muscular man stepped toward the counter and greeted you. His bright eyes nearly prompted your heart to rattle. 

“Got it. Anything else?” You grinned while counting his order. 

“No, Ma'am.” Terry almost smiled not long after paying up.  

“Can I have a name for the order?” You set out markers. 

“Terry.” Richmond quickly stated his own first name

“Thank you. Just wait for a second.” You prepared everything. 

Stepping out of the line, Terry gave room for  different customers, but noticed Armando using his laptop from this window seat. 

“You want something?” Terry leaned inward this time around. 

“I'll get up in a second. Appreciate it.” Aretas noticed Richmond's words again. 

“Terry?”  As expected, you called Richmond's name. 

“Be right back.” Terry reached the main counter again. 

“Here you go.” You handed out his order and smiled once more. 

“Thank you.” Terry almost grinned before sitting back down. 

______

Armando stepped up next and Terry observed everything. 

Once you rang more items and called Aretas, Armando gathered his regular coffee and took one scone, not even messing up his device. 

“Not bad.” Aretas said. “I'll have to leave soon, but thanks for helping.” 

“No problem.” Terry nodded, but looked elsewhere as this Porsche rolled near the curb. 

“Gotta go.” Taking coffee, Armando stepped outdoors and joined the passenger seat of Mike Lowrey's classic ride. 

______

Staying behind at the coffee shop, Terry observed how you handled customers and clocked out that afternoon, leaving this place just in time for lunch. 

“Excuse me?” Richmond stood from that window seat and questioned you. 

“Yes?” You welcomed him outside as this bench waited near the storefront. 

“I'm new here, so thank you for the coffee.”  Terry stepped forward and shook hands.

“Of course.” You smiled. 

“Something happened at my apartment complex yesterday. This guy moved in, but officers showed up and…” Richmond trailed off when you cleared your throat. 

“Armando Aretas…” You nearly whispered. “The police are quiet for different reasons now, but look up his name whenever you can. Most of that information is public.” 

“I will. Thank you.” Terry stood and began to walk away, but you spoke up once more. 

“See you tomorrow?” You wanted to know if Terry would come back. 

“Yeah, I don't mind. Take care.” Terry nodded and bid farewell, leaving your side. 

******

Buying his own laptop, Richmond planned to learn information. 

Nothing could've prepared him for upcoming details, though. 

What the fuck?! 

Realization tunneled this search. Soon enough, Terry's heart raced and dropped all at once. 

Aretas launched havoc on several counts and attacked officials from the Miami precinct four years ago. 

Richmond even found one vital news report from the large-scale case: 

“Famed Miami Detective Mike Lowrey was shot one evening. The video quickly surfaced online and went viral in a matter of hours. Footage first appeared on the darknet and soon spread to mainstream social media platforms. Authorities believed that the shooter uploaded this video himself.”

Damn! Terry slammed his laptop, fed up beyond words. 

No matter what, Armando's crimes remained true with permanent ink. 

*****

Another morning brightened, yet Terry's mind clouded again. 

When Armando's main door opened, Richmond almost flinched while unarmed. 

“Hey, hey, Woah! You good, T?” Armando lifted his empty hands. 

“The barista warned me and I did some research last night. Y'all left out too much.” Richmond turned frustrated without yelling. “Nobody told me about your case.”

“Dammit!” Aretas paced back and forth, quietly upset. “I can explain what happened, all right?”

“Go ahead.” Terry arched his brow. “I got plenty of time on my hands.”

_______

Sitting with Terry in private, Armando started talking first. 

“After leaving the military, I joined the family cartel. My mother planned everything and hoped that I wouldn't spare Lowrey.” Aretas grounded his truth. 

“What happened to your mother?” Terry settled the question. 

She's dead.“ Armando never hesitated with that phrase. 

“Damn, man.” Richmond attempted. “The case is harsh, but I'm sorry.”

“Honestly, there was nothing good about our situation.” Armando declined. “She lied to so many people.” 

“You learned the truth now, right?” Richmond attempted. 

“Yeah, but you know what? I really don't wanna talk about this anymore.”  Mentally exhausted, Aretas stopped debating and glanced toward his new watch.

“Fair enough. You're right, so let's get out of here.” Apologizing, Terry stood from the bench and followed Armando to this new spot. 

*****

“Hi, Terry. Good morning.” You've smiled and already learned his order as Richmond faced the register. 

“Morning. Thank you for giving the update with Armando. We've talked.” Richmond quietly acknowledged how he checked details last night. 

“Of course. We can't risk more issues if people haven't learned that case because Armando just got back.” You nearly whispered the response like code 

“You know a lot about this one.” Terry glanced around. 

“I used to work as an informant.” Still facing Terry now, you offered black coffee and handed over this muffin again. 

Wow. Richmond noted. 

_____

“Hey.” Slightly accented English rasped near your direction when Armando stepped forward. 

“I'm not a snitch.” There's no joyful greeting this time around. “We've lost too many people and I just want everyone else to be safe.” 

“I know.” Aretas completely understood your point. 

“Listen, I'm not afraid.” You arched one brow while ringing up his regular coffee with another scone. 

“I searched your name, too. Why give up the police department for a coffee shop?” Aretas moved ten steps ahead and had learned all about your skills. 

“You.” Your genuinely pleasant voice darkened for the first time. “Once the case guaranteed prison, I quit.”

“Thought you weren't scared?” Armando slyly chuckled and departed the line, waiting for his order. 

____

“Armando?” When you called his name, the area nearly silenced and almost everyone held their breath. Even Terry closed one fist to veil his mouth. 

“Ooh!” Everyone observed as you traded the items. Within seconds, Armando stepped back and didn't face drama. 

When Aretas sat back down, Terry almost smirked. 

“Why the face?” Armando clipped. 

“She hasn't kicked you out.” Richmond pointed near the register as you kept working. 

“Whatever.” Aretas casted both eyes toward that ceiling. 

______

Armando exited that local coffee shop as Mike Lowrey's classic Porsche rolled out again. Before long,  Richmond sat with privacy this time. 

When you began to leave for lunch once more, Terry still noticed your presence. 

“Don't worry.” Terry laughed and opened the front door for you. ‘I'm not hard-headed like Armando.” 

“Very funny.” You walked toward Florida sunlight and joined the storefront bench as usual. “Any plans today?”

“No, Ma'am. Still figuring out my apartment complex.” Richmond glanced toward you. 

“You'll learn.” Now, your gentle voice encouraged him. “Living somewhere new is a process.”

“I understand.” Terry nodded. 

“Oh, shit! Sorry, but I gotta go.” Your phone buzzed seconds later. 

“No problem. See you.” Saying goodbye, Terry watched you almost jog around the block for some odd reason. 

What now? Richmond thought. 

*****

Once you entered this restaurant, confetti popped upwards. 

“Happy birthday!” Members of the AMMO squad cheered after standing from this large table. 

“I thought you needed something! This is my lunch break.” You hugged weapons expert Kelly and tech genius Dorn laughed for a moment. 

“We've already cleared the schedule with your manager.” Captain Rita Secada welcomed your spot from that table. “Take this weekend off.”

“Thank you, Rita. Everything looks great!” You smiled toward the platters and would share each meal with friends. 

Just before indulging, you realized that Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike Lowrey's longtime partner and best friend, peeked around one corner. 

“Where's my niece? Happy birthday, girl!” Marcus shuffled footsteps into the private room. 

“Thank you, Marcus!” You opened both arms to hug Burnett and still observed his recovered heart. 

Not long ago, Marcus collapsed during Mike Lowrey's wedding. 

Lowrey fell in love with Christine, an experienced physical therapist. She also help .ed Mike heal with his shooting recovery that took place years back. 

“Doesn't matter if you've left the team. You're still important, Rook.” Marcus shortened one of your nicknames. 

“I appreciate it. How's everyone?” You acknowledged Burnett's family. 

“Everybody's fine. Megan just gave birth to a baby girl.” Smiling, Marcus counted his second grandchild. 

“Aw! Congratulations, Grandpa.” You laughed while messing with Marcus. Even Kelly almost giggled. 

“Pop-Pop.” Marcus corrected the title and arched his brow toward you. 

“You're still old!” You joked right back and everyone cackled. 

_______

“Happy birthday to you!” Servers pushed the cake forward as everyone sang along. 

Grateful, you blew out candles and prepared your sweet tooth, sitting beside Kelly and Rita. 

“Oh, damn! You cut the cake already?” Detective Mike Lowrey showed up with his wife Christine. 

“Might bring this party to the house, Rook. Now we're crammed in here!” Marcus chuckled. 

“Stop it, Marcus! Let's get some cake and go from there.” Mike jokes with his best friend. 

Even you hugged Christine, sharing dessert with everyone as sunset arrived. 

There was no better feeling here. 

******

Armando returned to this apartment and showered after trading used car keys from Mike at the precinct. 

Lowrey had just picked up his wife Christine to celebrate your birthday elsewhere. 

“Going back home with everybody if you wanna visit.” Mike called. “We can't stay at this restaurant all night.” 

“I don't think she likes me.” Aretas knew better than to interrupt your surprise. 

“Even you and I need to work on things, but I'm trying all right?” Lowrey still attempted. “Come over. It'd be good.” 

“I know. See you later.” Armando hung up, prepared to deal with the occasion. 

****

“Don't argue tonight.” Marcus warned both  you and Armando. 

“Hey, be careful. Now you're instigating.” Lowrey cautioned Burnett. 

“Hold up, I brought wine.” Settling down Mike and Marcus, Aretas carefully held two bottles. 

“Thank you.” Mike welcomed Armando inside and you found Christine again, heading to the backyard. 

______

“Still mad at me?” Armando offered the question while sharing cake with you. 

“No.” You shook your head. “Only cautious.”

“That's fair.” Aretas nodded in return as music played. 

“In all seriousness, how are you doing?” You wanted to help Armando regardless. 

“Better. Things are pretty quiet.” Aretas offered his vague response. 

“Started messing with Terry yet?” You laughed about one regular from the coffee shop. Terry Richmond even became Armando's neighbor.

“No, but can I ask you something?” Aretas leaned back in his chair. 

“Yeah?” You silently waited for Armando's next move. 

“You want him?” Armando clipped the unexpected idea. 

“What are you talking about?” You squinted. “We just met.” 

“Y'all smile almost every day now.” Aretas pulled his observations with Terry. Even coffee transactions looked more joyful. 

“It's none of your business, but you sound jealous.” You nearly laughed. 

“C'mere.” Throwing out trash for both of you, Armando started flirting. 

“Yes?” You stand from the table and trailed Aretas, intrigued. 

“Stop ignoring me.” His slightly accented English nearly whispered to reveal this truth. “It actually hurts my feelings.”

“Did I hurt your feelings or bruise that ego?” You corrected his phrase this time. “Get it together, okay? You're not the big bad wolf anymore.” 

Taking your words, Armando became outright silent as you walked away and started dancing with everyone else that night. 

*****

The next morning, you wake up after somehow choosing this living room floor. 

In some corner, this air mattress waited nearby and even one of Armando's wine bottles looked empty. 

What happened last night? Your now pounding mind buzzed questions. 

When Kelly emerged from the kitchen, you took random sunglasses to dodge brightness. 

“Where's everybody?” You stood up and joined K, greeted by many choices to eat. 

“Mike and Christine are running errands, Rita left, and Dorn took my car to the auto shop.” Kelly pinpointed almost everyone. 

Before you'd question Armando's spot, footsteps moved toward the living room. 

“You're wearing my sunglasses.” Aretas chuckled and gestured by your face. 

As you gaped while embarrassed, Kelly covered her mouth in shock. 

______

“What happened last night?” You offered the question between Armando and Kelly. 

“Lots of drinking and dancing.” Kelly just smiled towards you. “We all crashed down here when Mike and Christine went upstairs.” 

“How much did I drink?” You absolutely cringed right now. 

“You finished that wine bottle with Armando and danced together.” Kelly took a moment and drank water. 

“Dancing?” You then furrowed your brow near Aretas. 

“Yeah, it was fun.” Armando nearly smiled, but caught himself. 

“I definitely have some videos. Hold on.” Kelly seemed more and more humored. 

“Oh, no!” You removed the sunglasses, but still veiled your face this time. 

Just when Kelly began scrolling, Armando's phone started ringing.  

“Hello?” Both you and Kelly stopped messing around when Aretas picked up the call. 

“Dude, it's Terry. We need help, man!” Terry Richmond somehow contacted Armando. 

“What happened? I'm listening.” Aretas put Richmond on speakerphone to hear every detail. 

“The coffee shop's manager is dead.” Terry exposed that truth loud and clear. 

*****

As sirens wailed throughout and emergency lights flashed beyond direction, yellow tape met that coffee shop when law enforcement intervened. 

For the first time since quitting, you prepped one of the uniform jackets and dodged guidelines to help. Sitting back would never become an option. 

“Estimated time of death?” You questioned experts after joining that crime scene. 

“Last night around 10:00 PM.” One professional spoke up this time. 

“Quick kill. Discreet enough to avoid some outward panic.” Mike observed, requesting for you to bring Terry Richmond for questions. “Get Terry, Rook.”

“All right.” You turned away from that body bag while the forensics team moved along. 

______

“Explain what happened, T.” Drifting back to the police station, you joined Armando while Terry occupied this interrogation room.  

“Uh, everything seemed normal. Walked by the coffee shop and picked up my order as usual, but when I left that restroom to go home, there was spotting on the floor.” Terry leveled his response right now as bright eyes focused. 

Spotting? Fuck! You realized. Blood. 

“Where did you find that spotting?” You offered more questions for Richmond while Armando typed. “Did you see anything in the restroom?” 

“No, Ma'am.” Terry cleared his throat. “There's an employee door and office space located directly across from restrooms.”

Bingo! Of course you memorized the layout this year and pictured each area. 

“Who found that body?” You offered that chance just in case. 

“I found your manager sitting dead in his office chair.” Richmond's deep tone answered. 

Despite remaining composed, your heart still dropped. 

______

“We'll block this area until further notice. Who knows what else happened?” Returning to the crime scene, Lowrey took charge again. 

“Looks like another homicide case.” Marcus Burnett cringed. 

“Nope.” Lowrey declined. “Our squad just confiscated plenty of drugs, too.” 

“What the hell?” Burnett still can't believe what's going on. 

“Rook, bring Terry along.” Lowrey asked you to invite Richmond near everyone else as a precaution. 

Here we go. 

*******

Once this team confirmed an investigation, Mike, Marcus and Rita returned home before kicking off the police department's brand-new game plan. 

You bring Terry around as expected and gathered remaining members of the AMMO squad. 

“Sorry for the last-minute rush. We can't take any chances if you stay near that crime scene.” You explained this plan as Terry entered your house. 

“Don't worry. I get it.” Terry nodded, glancing around. 

“Make yourself at home. Kelly and Dorn would crash here all the time.” You welcomed Richmond. 

“Thank you.” Terry nodded and gathered his backpack, scoping the residence just in case.  

______

While Kelly and Dorn occupied one of the guest rooms, Terry showered upstairs. 

Down by that kitchen, you've set up this Bluetooth speaker and quietly played music while cooking for everyone. If only circumstances improved. 

“Hey.” Slightly accented English caught your attention and you carefully turned around. 

“Almost done making dinner. Did you need something?” You asked. 

“Where's your outlet? I just need to charge my phone. ” Aretas lifted his cell. 

“Check underneath my kitchen counter.” You gestured for a moment and finished cooking as Armando walked over. 

“Thanks.” Armando plugged the phone and washed his hands, setting the table with five plates or matching silverware like second nature.  

When that kitchen table looked ready this evening, you'd texted the group chat and everyone started heading downstairs without fail. 

“Smells good in here.” Terry almost smiled over some good news. 

“Thank you, T.” You still expressed gratitude right now. 

“You're welcome.” Terry's bright eyes almost glinted once more. 

Kelly and Dorn sat together, but Armando observed when Terry found this spot near you. 

“Let's not mention the case. How's everyone feeling?” Dorn spoke up next. 

“Never respond. We'll end up with therapy cards…Ow!” When Armando faced Terry, you stepped on his foot under the table. 

“Don't be rude.” You say.

“That hurt.” Aretas clenched his words near you and Terry sipped water to avoid laughing. 

“Get some ice or stop complaining.” You're just trying to eat and Armando frustrated nerves once more. 

“Damn!” Even Terry chuckled while Kelly and Dorn almost looked on. 

“What's so funny?” Armando clipped venom toward Richmond this time. 

“Chill…” Terry warned. “Regardless of the case, you're getting uptight now.”

At that moment, Armando stopped talking and excused himself from this table, choosing to finish his meal outside near the patio. 

Ditching your meal, you followed his path and closed the sliding door. 

______

“What the hell?” Your voice started debating. “You can't keep doing this shit!”

“Go back inside and leave me alone.” Ignoring his plate now, Aretas locked eye contact with you. 

“Don't tell me what to do in my own house!” This nearly raging tone gritted anger. “I brought y'all here for safety reasons.” 

“Why even do it?” Armando kept going. “We can take care of ourselves and you're not a babysitter.” 

“I won't leave anyone behind, not even you, Armando.” No matter what happened next, your words shared this vow. 

“Thanks.” Heading back, Aretas found his spot at the table and tried to feel better. 

******

“Everything okay?” Terry checked on both of you when Kelly and Dorn planned to sleep. 

“We're good. See you in the morning.” Armando nodded and would shower late before resting himself. 

“Aight, see you tomorrow.” Richmond dapped up Aretas for the evening, but stayed downstairs with you. 

Glancing over your shoulder, smiled for their moment of kindness. 

_____

“Don't worry. I'll straighten things up. It's the least that I can do. Terry wanted to help out as you'd reorganize the kitchen. 

“We'll work together. Deal?” You compromised instead. 

“Deal.” Terry cleared different places as you cleaned up. “So how long did you stay with the police? Y'all have pictures everywhere.” 

“About seven years.” You've signaled the dishwasher. “AMMO wasn't even founded yet when I joined that precinct.” 

“Impressive.” Terry almost whistled before fanning out this new trash bag for the garbage. 

“Thank you.” You smiled and described the origin of your nickname: Rookie. “Mike and Marcus call me Rook because of my age. It's not an academy thing.”

“You know enough information and can't feel outdated here.” Terry washed his hands before sitting down in the living room once you both finished responsibilities. 

“Yeah. It's sad, but let's just say that older CIs aren't discreet anymore.” You joined Terry. “No comfort means no details.” 

“How did you find Big Dawg?” Almost laughing, Richmond vaguely referenced Armando. 

“Someone called with an anonymous tip that night.” You explained. “We locked down coordinates and found a bloodbath sprawled out near the Miami Harbor.” 

Shit! Richmond shook his head. 

“How rough?” Terry went on. 

“No survivors: shootings, stabbings, money toppled over that dock. It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen.” You remembered the problem, but never crossed Aretas until now. 

Before Terry asked further questions, you both looked up to see Armando heading back downstairs. 

Fuck. You thought. 

Fresh out of the shower, Aretas wore this tank top with loose pants, heading back to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing?” Changing the subject, you leave this couch and watch Armando get a snack. 

“Can't sleep?” You laughed. 

“Isn't it obvious?” Aretas casted both eyes toward that ceiling and found one bowl, dumping popcorn. 

“Grouch.” Chiding Armando, you gathered more snacks to share with Terry as well. “What's wrong this time?”

“Nothing.” Aretas declined. 

“Hey, don't start that shit again. “She's just checking on you, all right?” As his deep voice returned, Terry defended you while correcting Armando. 

“Stay out of it because I wasn't even talking to you.” Aretas clipped right back. 

“Be grateful that she didn't throw us to the wolves now.” Richmond nearly sized up Aretas while talking about your home. “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” 

“Stop taking charge.” Armando backed off and gestured around. 

“What are you talking about?” Terry squinted, puzzled. 

“You moved here and everybody thinks you're special, but I can't even spend five minutes alone with her.” Armando expressed himself. “Maybe we'd have a better relationship if you'd back off.” 

“Not my problem.” Terry lifted both hands, sitting beside you once more. 

“What do you want?” You crossed both arms and looked toward Armando. 

“Don't ask me that.” His voice noticed you even more as Armando took the popcorn and headed right back upstairs. 

“What?” Frustrated, you squinted near Terry by this point. 

“It's better for everybody if you talk to him. Good night.” Arching his brow, Richmond leaves you as well. 

______

When you finally planned to sleep in your own bedroom, someone knocked. 

You opened this door to see Armando standing in the hall.

“Hey. I'm sorry for irritating you…” Your voice trailed off when Aretas stepped closer. 

“I'm sorry.” His brown eyes locked your presence when Armando sniffled quietly. “I just…”

“Yeah?” You tried to listen because his voice still mattered. 

“Nothing changes what I did, but y'all still ganging up on me doesn't help, either.” Aretas expressed more feelings. “I might as well go back to prison.” 

“Maybe if you weren't so quick to hide from everyone, things would be different.” You offered another perspective. “I just wanna solve this case and go back to normal.”

“I know. It's not easy for me, but I'll try. Get some rest, okay?” Struggling this time, Armando stepped back and you could sleep without interruptions. 

******

By morning, everyone settled around the kitchen together when you finished cooking breakfast. 

“Pass the hot sauce, baby girl?” Terry slipped that nickname by you while looking for one condiment. 

“Here, T.” You didn't even correct him and exchanged the bottle, picking up silverware to eat again. 

“Thank you.” Terry nodded and spiced eggs for his meal, moving on. 

Dorn and Kelly froze in unison here, surprised beyond words. 

“Espero que te quemes la lengua.” Using his native language of Spanish, Armando wanted Richmond's tongue to burn. 

“What was that?” Terry caught on. 

“Doesn't matter.” Aretas stood from the table and noticed Richmond once more. “Help us solve the case or leave.”

“Back up. Gettin’ tired of your attitude.” Of course Terry wouldn't fight, yet patience grew thin. 

“Guys…” Dorn wanted to settle this problem for  everyone, but Kelly stopped him. 

Terry sat back down and still warned Armando. “I thought you wanted another chance here.”

“Stop assuming shit. You have no idea what's going on with me.” Aretas defended himself again. 

Out of nowhere, your phone rings, breaking silence and moving tension elsewhere. 

Putting the call on speaker for everyone, you know better this time. 

“Hello, who is this?” You leveled this question for so many reasons. 

“Hola, Mami. Que tal?” One familiar chuckle reached your phone when Armando's old goon Zway Rodriguez picked up. 

“What did you do?!” After reaching his breaking point, Aretas snapped upon realization, held back by Terry and Dorn when hearing Zway's voice. 

“Just keep me out of prison and I'll explain everything. Otherwise…” Zway requested his own terms. 

“What?!” Armando's rage only worsened, but Terry and Dorn still wouldn't let go of Aretas. 

“Be careful, man. I'd hate for this special girl to be the next target.” Zway dropped that call, bringing everyone into this chaotic frenzy. 

******

“Are you saying that Zway killed this coffee shop manager?” As you stayed home, Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett gathered AMMO members near the department. 

“We'll find out soon enough.” Dorn tracked information to find puzzle pieces for the case. 

“Compromised again?” Mike questioned protocol once more. 

“No, but if we don't listen to Rodriguez, she'll be dead.” Dorn grounded the truth with your safety and planned to lock that case. 

“Be careful while you plan Zway's interrogation, all right?” Marcus and Mike also warned Captain Rita Secada. “We can't even put Armando in the same building.” 

“Fair enough. Go ahead and deal with Rodriguez yourselves.” Rita stepped out of the precinct. 

________

“Listen, be grateful. Armando would've kicked your ass, Zway.” Marcus Burnett paced back and forth while questioning Rodriguez. 

“No, Marcus. If it wasn't for us, Zway would be dead at the morgue tonight.” Mike folded both arms and stood in one corner. 

“Keep me out of prison.” Zway dared to speak this time. 

“First of all, don't fuck around. Did you kill the coffee shop manager or not?” Mike Lowrey squinted. 

“Yeah.” Zway dropped his bored response without showing emotions. 

“Why?” Mike prompted immediate eye contact, keeping composure. 

“It's all revenge.” Zway continued. “I even planted drugs y'all found at the coffee shop.”

“Revenge for what?” Mike questioned. 

“When Armando shot me near that helicopter four years ago, I fell into water, but survived.” Zway revealed. “Keep me away from prison unless you want problems.” 

Glancing toward one another, Mike Lowrey and Marcus Burnett left the interrogation room. 

_______

“It's official, y'all. Zway just confessed to everything.” Marcus exposed the truth. 

“Is it possible to keep him out of prison?” Dorn looked concerned. 

“No. We need a different plan.” Marcus shook his head. 

“We've got no other choice, then.” Lowrey darkened his voice. 

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Marcus worried. 

“Somebody needs to kill Zway.” Lowrey couldn't turn back this time. 

_______

While staying home as a precaution, you find Terry and Armando in the living room. 

“Hi.” You spoke up. 

“Hey.” Both protective men faced your direction as sympathy reached their eyes. 

“Thank you for looking out.” You've expressed so much more gratitude. 

The doorbell prompted all three of you to glance forward, but Terry checked your RING Camera first. 

“It's Lowrey and Burnett.” Terry pinpointed your friends. 

“Let them in, T.” You offered permission, but Armando stood up anyway, ready for the next plan. 

“Before we start talking about this shit, c'mere, Rook.” Lowrey opened both arms to hug you. 

And for the first time since handling Zway's call, your eyes began to well up. Even Marcus wouldn't pass jokes. 

“What's the plan?” Your kind voice lowered without hesitation. 

“Somebody needs to kill Zway, but Armando can't do it or he'll go right back to prison.” Mike revealed this truth. 

There's no other choice. You've realized the possible outcome. 

“All right, then.” Enough was enough. “Bring the squad together and back me up. Whatever happens, I'm not going down without a fight.”

______

By nightfall, members of the AMMO squad returned to your home and prepared this attack from different corners. 

“Watch the house, Terry.” You offered brief yet vital instructions. “That's all we need from you.” 

“Yes, Ma'am. Be careful.” Armed himself, Richmond focused as you rolled out with everyone and silently waited for more. 

******

“Have Armando take henchmen, Mike!” Marcus yelled out loud while steering another motorcycle and neon lights painted streets. "Don't let him catch Zway!” 

“This is a battlefield, Marcus!” Lowrey moved among blaring engines. “No more rules. I am not responsible for Armando tonight.” 

“What about his redemption, Mike?” Marcus still attempted to be logical. 

“If Rook dies, Armando's second chance won't even matter.” Lowrey gritted his teeth over your chance to live. “Let's go!” 

______

Zway Rodriguez punched speed without fail as racing motorcycles caught up. 

Glancing past his shoulder, Zway quickly realized that someone lifted their firearm while still directing the motorcycle. 

No! Only one person crossed missions through anger four years ago. 

Armando returned. 

“It's Aretas, move faster!” Zway attempted to warn other goons. 

While Zway prepared to dodge Armando, he didn't even notice that your motorcycle joined this fight. 

“Here's payback.” You pulled this trigger and immediately spiraled Zway's route, dashing to escape between shadows. 

“Zway's dead!” Armando turned near you without removing his helmet. 

“Follow back to my house! We gotta check on Terry.” You would return home as expected. 

******

No targets, only silence. 

Terry Richmond heightened awareness while keeping watch in your home. Even distant sounds located for the neighborhood matter at this point. 

When engines revved out loud to line up vehicles this evening, Terry knew that signal. 

The AMMO squad returned. 

“Open the door, T!” You hurried to run inside with everyone else. 

“C'mon!” Terry almost pulled the doorknob this time. 

Kelly and Dorn entered first, no longer hiding in that surveillance van. 

Mike and Marcus pulled through next as Rita stepped up before long. 

When you and Armando reached this house, pain nearly dampened Terry's face. 

Regardless of the plan, it's still a miracle that you're alive. 

Just when this group would settle with relief, lights shut down as the home turned pitch-black. 

“Stay armed and keep watch here! No friendly fire.” Terry warned you and the AMMO squad. 

Within seconds, glasses shattered from rear living room windows as bullets rattled, searching for carnage. 

“Look out!” You screamed, trying to defend yourself while every moment prompted chaos. 

Yet when lights returned for the living room, everyone else glanced around, realizing that Armando and Terry no longer battled here.

“Be careful while searching for them. We gotta move!” Lowrey stepped over countless bodies while instructing all of you. 

Where did y'all go?! Your thoughts rushed as panic heightened even more. 

______

“No corras!” Rasping Spanish once more, Aretas warned enemies not to run. Seconds later, vengeful bullets sparked through lethal fire. 

“I hear Armando's voice in the garage.” Kelly finally noticed echos. “Go, go, go!” 

Scoring the garage, you found absolute carnage here. Even Terry moved forward and disarmed other goons.

“Listen! Either deal with me or I'm throwing you to him. It's your choice.” Richmond still warned targets about Aretas. 

As bullets raced, fear struck combatants every single time. 

“Give me your weapons and leave.” Terry gritted without hesitation. 

While still fighting others, everything slowed down when this bullet pierced time. 

You fell back and toppled against the hard floor right now. 

“Dammit, she's hit. Armando!” Terry barked through shock. 

As blood spilled with each passing moment, you wince despite the guard of your own vest. 

Footsteps rushed to your aid as you still recognized Kelly and Dorn. 

“Call paramedics!” Dorn hurried. 

Rita, Mike and Marcus kept fighting elsewhere in the house, not realizing your injury yet. 

“T….” You struggled, grimacing without assistance. 

“We'll handle this, all right?” Terry still planned to help right now. “Keep your eyes open.” 

Soon enough, Footfalls dashed to reveal Armando's presence. 

“Move!” Slightly accented English pulled more feelings when Aretas shoved Richmond out of his way. “What the fuck happened?!

Entering the garage themselves, Mike, Marcus and Rita stood flabbergasted on sight. 

“Aw, shit!” Mike grilled everyone over your accident. “She's losing too much blood past the vest. Where's medical?!” 

“I already called for help!” Dorn shouted with an explanation. 

“Well, medics better hurry up and reach that bullet!” Marcus exposed his anger. “My niece is dying.” 

Just when you trembled near deadly pain, sirens wailed outside once more. 

******

While beeping sounded, fluorescent lights almost blinded your vision as you woke up in the hospital. 

“Hey, Rook.” Detective Mike Lowrey joined your bedside this morning. 

“H-Hi...” As you struggled talking, exhaustion replaced that cheerful voice. 

“Just take it easy.” Mike cautioned. When you sat up, different wires aided. 

“Terry and Armando?” You looked for Richmond and Aretas. 

“You got it. I'll get 'em right now.” Mike pointed between you and the door. 

_____

“She's awake, c'mon.” Crossing the lobby, Mike updated Terry and Armando as you wished.  

“Made it. How are you doing?” Before long, Terry knocked first and held flowers, showing this rare yet great smile. 

“Tired.” You attempted.

“Better than nothing. You're still here.” Terry joined the bedside chair and sat down. 

“What happened?” You couldn't help asking questions despite everything. 

“We barely reached the hospital and experts took out your bullet during surgery.” Richmond never lied. 

“Thank you.” Your pained voice expressed gratitude once more. 

“You're welcome.” Terry said. “Have you eaten yet?” 

“I can't stomach anything. Maybe later.” Even your throat seems uncomfortable. 

“Okay.” Richmond took notice. Let me know and we'll help out.” 

Knocks resumed and Armando stepped in, no longer wearing tactical gear. 

“Hey, sorry.” Aretas walked closer. “I got some water for you and the vending machine held up.”

“Thanks.” You tried. 

“We just found out that you'll be discharged soon.” Armando revealed. 

“How soon?” You questioned. 

“Tonight or tomorrow.” Armando nodded.

“Thank you.” It's a habit just to repeat that kind phrase. 

Even while you smiled through fatigue, your mood  brightened again. 

*****

Given permission to leave that hospital, you could finally return home, but wouldn't handle work until further notice. There's no other choice this time. 

Headlines soon revealed that the coffee shop became defunct. This establishment pulled too much drama following Zway's dark investigation. 

During your recovery, even Armando helped on a regular basis and only slept from his downtown apartment when working at the police station. 

Sooner than later, Mike Lowrey and Marcus  Burnett had planned another special cookout for the department. Friends still invited you today. 

Planning to leave with Armando, you both signaled the group chat first. 

“Where's Terry?” Moving near that driveway, you haven't heard from Richmond yet. 

“I don't know.” Armando finished packing this car as you joined the passenger seat. “He might've gone to the park early or something.”

Just before Aretas would drive, another vehicle pulled up. 

Richmond turned down the driver's seat window of this brand-new SUV.  

“What are y'all waiting for? Let's go!” Chuckling through joy, Terry guided your route toward the public park. 

This happy ending could shine at last. 

[takeurexam]

dynasty || II

genre:

non idol au, time travel, romance, rivals to allies to friends to lovers, crown prince to emperor taehyun, reader gets appointed as an concubine

pairing(s):

taehyun x reader

(warning, this does not reflect the REAL idols personality, and no smut will be written to respect the idol, and i am not comfortable as well, and the taehyun in this ff is not the actual taehyun)

summary:

in which you, an excellent law student about to graduate collage suddenly gets dragged into the past, meeting the famous-fawned over emperor of the kang's dynansty. but you getting dragged into this mess was beyond a mystery, and it seems like you have something deep to discover. meddling with the past is a risky decision after all.

dynasty masterlist

2. Mountain

The Kang Dynasty was a family famous in history books- they maintain their reputation even when they're remains and only found on history books, museums, and people still fawn over them.

As a collage student, you would encounter this topic in history. Students fawn over them because of their 'good deeds' and 'glamouring' looks. Especially the emperor in this generation you're traveled into, Kang Ta...

"Who was he again? Gosh, I havent thought about history in a while." You get lost in thought as you clean the campsite of Soobin and Hobak as a sign of gratitude for saving you.

Its been officially a day since you've arrived here; you've built the pieces and it seems that you have time traveled for some absolute crazy reason.

"It was those masked people. Im so sure! I thought they were theives.." You sigh as you finish gathering the leaves on the ground and throw them in a pit.

"Somehow.. I still have this chopstick." You put it in your hair as you remembered the ladies from this dynasty wearing them on their hair. "I think it was that lady. Or she maybe predicted this and wished for my downfall because I looked stupid." You mumble to yourself as you grunt and sit down on a big rock waiting for something to happen.

Soobin and Hobak were cool honestly. Soobin was handsome but really introverted. He could just say one word for the day and go on. Hobak on the other side, is short compared to Soobin and very talkative, what a unique duo.

They went out to town because Soobin needed more herbal medicine for you because he thought you had memory loss or things that you couldnt understand what he was saying.

You wipe your hands and stand up to go back to your tent which was originally Hobak's that he was kind enough to share.

"Hey! Were back!" You hear Hobak shout before you could even reach your tent.

"Yo, something happen?" You ask.

"Nothing really crazy, but I saw the Crown Prince today! He looked handsome as hell but not as me. Anyways, I dont know why they're at Daedo, but it seemed really suspicious and at the same time important." Hobak rants on, and Soobin just nods his head.

"Cool. I cleaned a bit for you guys, and dont worry, I didnt displace anything." Soobin smiles at your work and places down the baskets he brought.

You all go inside the main big tent which is where the two of them eat, make ingredients and make medicine.

"What are you planning to do?" Soobin asks you.

"I dont know.. I still havent gained my memories, but the best thing to do right now is explore. The problem? Im broke." You knew that saying you time traveled is just pure stupidity because one, they dont know that, two, you'll be called crazy. So adjusting to Soobin's diagnosis would be for the best.

"You can work for us. I can give you money." Soobin happily drops out paper in the table and grins, "You'll be like an herb collector for me."

"Sure, that would be cool." You grin back and write his so called 'requirements' in the paper he placed down.

Morning comes, you hear the chickens attempt to wake you up for your first task, which is to travel to the mountains to find herbs Soobin needs.

"Wait. How do people find their way home though.." You thought as you prepared to go out. "It is what it is."

You walk over to the main tent and see Soobin sitting, drinking a cup of coffee. "Heres the list." He smiles.

"Good mood?"

"I like seeing people volenteer to help me."

"Cool."

You take the list and shove it down your pockets, "If you dont need anything else, then i'll be on my way." Fixing your shoes, you get ready to leave to the mountains.

"Goodluck." He smiles again.

The mountains were filled with leaves as it was autumn, and there were many trees compared to the present. It was truly refreshing to see a nice environment after a while.

"If I get killed by a bear, will I go back to my time?" You talk to yourself as you go on the mountains.

"Holy! Its this thing from the list!!" You look at the drawing and the plant and see alot of similarities, "Bingo." You pick up the plant and put it in your basket.

"Checked.." You put a check mark using charcoal that you randomly found in the ground.

"Next!" You hop on.

Soobin advised on how to get home, that to try and head to Daedo, which was at the South and Hobak would pick you up because he had errands there.

You knew directions enough to go, so it wasnt much of an problem.

"Ooh! Another one." You pick up another plant and mark it with the charcoal as you go on once again to the mountains.

You left the base at exactly morning, which for you was eight in the morning, and you had no issues on the way so far. Soobin's list is almost complete so you had no worries because you seemed lucky today.

"Check, check.. check. This is easy!" You giggle as you jump around the leaves.

"It dosent seem to bad to be in this dynasty. It feels good to have an escape from the suffocating gates of university and issues going around. It feels like life just became fresh again here." You sigh as you feel the wind swarm around with your thoughts.

"One last plant! And lucky for me, its over here." You crouch to the ground and pick up the plant and place it on your basket. "Wooho!"

But somehow, you couldn't shake off a weird feeling. Because everything was going so well; nothing has happened to you. And you felt like something right now is gonna go wrong.

........

"WHAT THE FUCKK!" You get trapped in a net, which seemed like a booby trap for animals and hunters to catch.

"I PREDICTED THIS. URHRHRHG." You groan and move around the net to try and make it give up because of your heavy ass.

You hear footsteps approach and you just start praying in your mind that they dont kill you and actually let you go and they're a kind soul and..

"Why are you here? This wasnt made for you." A tall man in a pony tail with his long hair and wearing black armor as he held a sword. He was hot as well.

"Whats good?" You smile at him awkwardly as you were in a position with tangled arms and legs.

"Who are you and what is your purpose?" He draws his sword. "Hey, hey! Im good- im innocent! Uh- im just looking for herbs!" You shout.

"See?" You shake your basket at him. He looks at you with a raised brow but dosent draw back his sword.

"So please, help?" You grin.

He dosent reply and cuts the rope with his sword which drops you to the ground "Ouch!" You fall ass flat.

"Thank you.. uh.."

"General Beomgyu of the Palace."

"Yeah! Thank you so much dear General Beomgyu!" You jump around in joy as you hug your basket.

"Its dangerous out here. Why are you collecting herbs?" He asks with his sword drawn back and crossed arms.

"It is? I never encountered any danger." You were lying. You saw booby traps in some areas, like alot. But decided to avoid them, but this trap you fell in was well hidden.

"...Okay. Who do you serve?"

"Uh... Soobin. Do you know him?"

"Oh. Its Soobin." He mumbles as he fixes his throat, letting the air engulf the two of you. He speaks after a while, "I have to get going."

You suddenly have an idea in mind, "Wait-" You stop him from walking, "Where are you heading to?"

He looks at you suspiciously but still answers, "Daedo." Your eyes brighten as you grin, "Can I come with you? Arent you concerned about the dangers lurking? Then a General like you! Can help me." You smirk as he looked genuinely suprised at your remark.

He thinks for a while, "Alright. Just dont be a bother."

"Wooho!" You shout with your fists thrown into the air as he just eyes you and proceeds to walk the direction to Daedo.

"Hey, do you serve the Crown Prince?" You ask as you both walk down the leaf filled ground. He looks at you for a short time and looks away.

"Yes, I do."

"Why are you here at Daedo?" You ask him. You remembered Hobak ranting about how the Crown Prince's prescence was both suspicious and seemingly important.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because im curious? Who lets the Crown Prince go along Daedo randomly?" You shrug as you two walk down a path.

He hesitates to answer, "We have business here in Daedo. You should be aware then that I cant share that information to you."

"Im aware, I just wanted to see if you would tell me or not."

"What?" He looks at you a little confused, "You're crazy."

You laugh at his comment, "Thanks."

You both become silent for the meanwhile as you observe your surroundings- you might need to know this place for future tasks or just incase you get lost.

"What do I even do after? I dont plan on working my whole life for Soobin. Well, that dosent seem so bad. I can explore Daedo then go practice fighting to look cool and build a base and-" Your thoughts get cut by Beomgyu, "We're here."

"Oh, theres my friend!" You notice Hobak near a corner. "Well, General Beomgyu, I wont forget you!" You wave goodbye as you run to Hobak.

"I wont forget you too." He mumbles under his breath before heading to his designated place.

<previous chapter

>next chapter

hi everyone!! heres the 2nd chapter <3 hope you enjoyed!

for kdrama lovers, if ya know empress ki, you know who im referencing beomgyu to (general taltal) i love him teehe

welcome beomgyu ‼️

[justa-moth]

this is an incredibly niche thing that will appeal to maybe like one other jrwi fan, but:

what crew i think various riptide characters would be on if they were tech theatre kids

because why not :]

Jay: - oh Set Crew for SURE dude - shes the head carpenter - she knows how to use every tool in the shop - she's the one helping the newbies learn said tools - she'll yell at you to be safe but also do the worlds most unsafe things - she probably gets thrown on fly rail alot and is bitter about it because she'd rather move stuff on stage

Chip: - Set - Now he might not be great at it - but he would just really enjoy using the power tools - (and Jay would be on his ass about it constantly because he is Not safe like at ALL) - he probably gets put on like the super heavy set piece for a scene change and will do nothing but complain about it

Gillion: - ok this one was hard - i dont think hes set crew - but i do think hes usually been crowned the official Heavy Set Piece Mover - just because hes the theatres resident Strong Man - honestly i think he's scared of most of the power tools tbh jhkfsdjhk - he's probably just general stage crew, aka just the jack of all trades guy that any of the crews can use if they need an extra hand - (however he never helps any of the crews that require like a steady hand, like makeup, costume, or props, just bc of how big and clunky he is hjkfsdjkh)

Queen: - probably props or makeup/costume - theyre utterly terrified of ANY power tools and will avoid the shop like the PLAGUE - she probably really enjoy just sitting and working on small details for props while they blare music - (she is also the person in the theatre with the BEST music tastes, literally the best rehearsal playlist) - you look away from queen for maybe an hour and he will come back with the most intricate and beautifully designed prop - and it ends up having maybe 5 seconds of screen time and will have to get deconstructed once shows over

Gryffon: - okay so he's the guy that everyone thought would be the resident strong man when he joined the theatre. - and while technically he is, this poor man finds a way to break fucking anything - working on a set piece? it will crumble when he walks in the room. - working on lighting? they lamps will explode - he's the murphys law man. if anything could go wrong, it Will if he's in the room - its gotten to the point where every show the theatre does a ritual to the Theatre Gods in hopes that gryffon's powers of Pure Destruction may be nullified long enough for them to actually get shit done - he probably just gets put on fly rail because thats the only thing he hasn't managed to break

Alphonze: - Lighting / Sound for SURE - i would trust this man to operate the board - he's literally a god at programming cues, hes always on time - he cuts the mic out the SECOND the actor leaves the stage, he gets mic problems fixed INSTANTLY - if somethings wrong with a light, he IMMEDITAELY knows how to fix it - he is essentially the Antichrist to gryffon's destructive power - its the Theatre Superstition that if Alphonze and Gryffon are in the same room for too long it'll cause a singularity

Lizzie: - Set or maybe even Stage Manager - she's probably stage manager, but like only hangs out with techies - because being in the room with the cast and their songs for too long makes her just actually wanna die - shes super chill, but then tech week hits and she means BUISNESS - her ass gets things DONE - they could be in any stage of the creative process, and lizzie will find a way to speedrun it in the best and most efficient way possible

Caspian: - Makeup / Costume - like i imagine him helping people do their makeup in the dressing rooms before show - he would also be that one poor head costume manager helping the main character with the worlds most stressful quick change - or the poor mf who has to speed safety pin someones clothes together because it ripped mid performance

Marshal John: - literally THE set guy, aside from Jay - you need something heavy moved quickly? get john - power tools broken? get john - literally any problem that could easily be solved by a Big Strong Man? john. - he, like gillion, is the other Resident Strong Guy - however all prop people know to never get NEAR him, because this poor man has a way of literally just breathing on a prop and causing it to shatter - he's just big and clunky and can't handle delicate things

Drey and Finn: - the resident Uncles of the theatre - they don't work there - but theyre there to support their Kids TM - drey probably donates random pieces of furniture to the set department - and finn makes BANGER meals for the crew when it gets closer to performance - and they work like 12+ hours without eating - finn will MAKE SURE these poor kids get their nutriants

Earl: - in the same vein, he's also just one of the resident Uncles - once before a performance earl didn't make them juice - and literally Everything went wrong - so now everyone is convinced that Earl's juice is Magical and Blessed - and if the theatre doesn't get blessed by his juice, everyone fears for their life - Earl uses this to his advantage, and will actively threaten people to drink his juice by saying like "if you don't drink this i'll make sure that chandelier breaks right before the finale!!" - and the poor set crew kids just start SWEATING

[cringebuthappy]

So, here is my little essay for that one person who's interested in my idea.

First things first, my other fic. I translated it, as promised, and you can read it here. I was honestly very surprised that people took it so well. I should thank you for giving me the motivation and courage to share my little experiment with others.

Now to the concept. Its main idea is to describe my subjective perception of Mouthwashing plot, which I developed after watching the trailer and playing The Last One and Then Another. As the developers intended, I mistakenly thought that Curly was to blame for the crash (and thanks to the cake scene from the trailer, it seemed to me that he could sit and talk, lol. This also became part of my new idea), and the main point of the game is to understand why he did it. Around the same time period, I played Cruelty Squad and became so deeply imbued with the atmosphere of corporate suffering and torment of the flesh that I wanted to add it to my work. Depression Nap is the official theme of this fic, check it out.

Below are descriptions of cruelty and references to suicide.

The Earth is slowly dying. Natural resources are almost over, the air is polluted, Sun explosion is just around the corner, people are eating plastic. In order to somehow escape from extinction, humanity explores space in search of a habitable planet, and the most prosperous of people can already leave the dying garbage dump and start living on a large spaceship resort powered by the energy of another star (like in WALL-E). Companies like Pony Express specialize in delivering various stuff to colonizers and refugees from Earth.

Curly developed depression amid general hopelessness. Constant advertisements on TV are saying the Earth will die soon, streets covered in toxic smoke, everything is getting more expensive very quickly and is rapidly falling in quality. Curly is tormented by one thought: before all this is over, the situation will become unbearably bad. And it scares him.

Pony Express, this cheap and unethical company, receives an offer to make a delivery to the very space resort. It takes 5 years to fly there by cargo ship. Of course, during such a long flight, the crew members will simply tear each other apart from boredom. The solution is quite non-standard: to make boredom not a hindrance, to reduce the need for all kinds of pleasures. Create a so-called dopamine block by injection.

My friend, when I told him about it, said: "Yeah, so they have money for injections, but they can't give them a couple of board games and a TV with CDs, right?" Yes, but a couple of board games and cartoons won't help you last five years in isolation. In addition, they still need sexual satisfaction, and dopamine is also responsible for arousal. With one injection, you can forget about the human needs for five years. Minor side effects: problems with perception and the gastrointestinal tract.

One problem with these injections: they react very poorly to sugar. Therefore, there are only sweeteners on the Tulpar.

The dopamine block works poorly on the already depressed Curly, making him feel even worse. He sees the deplorable condition of his crew (imagine someone looking at the drying paint with a manic smile, drooling yellow from their mouth), and after four years of being in this mentally retarded hell, he can no longer tolerate it and decides to commit suicide.

The most painless and quiet way to do this is to swallow something in quantities incompatible with life. In a last rebellious outburst to annoy Pony Express, Curly decides to drink mouthwash, which he knew about due to his position as captain. But wait a minute: this killer mixture contains a huge amount of sugar. As soon as Curly takes a sip, the dopamine block in his head explodes with a huge bright flash. A star is born.

Emotions, desires, years of suppressed excitement pile on Curly at once, and he begins to go crazy. The chemical in his blood mixes with sugar and creates madness.

Fun fact: a lack of dopamine is a sign of schizophrenia.

"We will become great. Let's be reborn among the stars." says Curly during his birthday celebration and crashes the ship a few minutes later.

As I've already said, Curly hasn't lost his ability to speak, and his speeches are full of religious nonsense about rebirth through torment. While the crew is desperately trying to find out why he did what he did, he tells them about the great plans, cosmic dust and the incredible abilities of the human soul. In the end, he convinces the crew to open the cargo hold, after which everyone starts drinking mouthwash for their own reasons. Dopamine blocks break down, everyone starts to go crazy in their own way, converting to a new faith.

Let's look at each character individually.

Swansea. He's already familiar with addiction, but he drinks the most. He turns into a bodyguard, a warrior with an axe in hands, guarding the peace of his idol. Silent and emotionless, like a stone golem, he accompanies Curly, carries him around the ship and protects him from Jimmy's attacks. Realizing how meaningless all these years of abstinence and proper living had been, Swansea suddenly became empty and now can only follow simple and understandable instructions. His soaked brain no longer perceives joy.

Daisuke. He's a child who is looking for a strong mentoring figure, which is what Curly becomes for him. He absorbs all his crazy ideas like a sponge and retells them to other crew members, spreading the word of the prophet. He tries to be like an object of his adoration, like his role model, because he himself has no stable goal and no understanding of how to achieve it.

Anya. May all her fans forgive me, but in this universe she is a nymphomaniac. And before you try to strangle me, let me explain.

No, she wouldn't throw herself at every member of the crew in a wild fit of passion. Despite everything, she is still Anya, a modest and reserved girl. She aches with desire, but hides it deep inside, swallows it and continues to be obediently silent. She is like a concubine by the king's side - meek, obedient, confident in him, unconfident in herself.

Why is this necessary? Firstly, to create a striking contrast with the original and emphasize the evil irony. Secondly, to reveal one of the aspects of my hyperbolized dopamine explosion, which, among other things, manifests itself in increased sexual desire. Thirdly, to pay homage to the book/game I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream (listen, listen! I HAVE NO MOUTH THAT I MUST WASH), in particular to the character Ellen, who was chaste before the events of the book, but after turned into a sex addict (in the game she was sexually assaulted before the apocalypse).

Jimmy. Ironically, he remained the most adequate member of the crew, because he didn't drink mouthwash until the last moment. He was unsociable and communicated only with Curly, and therefore felt deeply betrayed when he crashed the ship. Despite a long and close relationship, Jimmy didn't understand how Curly's depression worked, and all possible reasons for his action seemed stupid and far-fetched to him. He misses the Earth a lot, misses simple joys like favorite dishes and sunny weather, and gets very angry when Curly, like a propaganda radio, broadcasts that Earth is bad and they need to forget about it. Jimmy is the only one who keeps asking Curly why he messed up everything, and when he gets a vague, delusional answer, he hurts Curly, and then tries to kill him, after which he is tied up, forcibly watered with mouthwash and left under Swansea's supervision.

Further events may seem a little strange. That's because I haven't really thought them through. Inspiration comes during writing, but I never got to this stage.

Six months after the crash, Daisuke, after listening to Curly, commits self-immolation, trying to become like his mentor and, according to his twisted theory, be reborn into an immortal disembodied being, carelessly plowing the expanses of space. Jimmy, taking advantage of the situation, puts pressure on Swansea's guilt and convinces him that this can't go on, that Curly needs to be stopped. Swansea frees Jimmy, and they head to the medbay, where Anya has already closed up with Curly and a gun. When Jimmy and Swansea do get inside, Anya, frightened by the axe, shoots the entire barrel at Swansea. Scared and angry, Jimmy picks up an axe and rushes at her. In result: Anya is killed, and Jimmy is left alone with a rotting source of insanity, hallucinations and addiction to mouthwash.

Jimmy continues to live on the ship with Curly. Oh, look, the captain has become normal again! He's grown over his skin, started walking again!

'course not. There he is, Curly, lying dead. He died shortly after the rest of the crew. Jimmy was left with corpses and a nonexistent friend pouring sugar poison into his mouth and ears.

After an indefinite amount of time, the Tulpar, floating freely through space, falls on the radars of that very resort ship. A small shuttle with a reconnaissance team separates from it and decides take Jimmy to the base. Jimmy, obeying an imaginary Curly, kills everyone in the shuttle, gets behind the wheel and directs his kamikaze ship at full speed directly into the side of the resort ship.

Because we survived for a reason, Curly tells him, putting his nonexistent hand on his shoulder. We've become prophets, we're obliged to enlighten humanity. Through torment, we will all be reborn and become stars. Careless deities living in the boundless cosmos.

WITH YOUR FEET ON THE AIR AND YOUR HEAD ON THE GROUND

TRY THIS TRICK AND SPIN IT

YEAH

Yes, I love Fight Club.

Well, that's all. The ending is open, but I think it's quite understandable. If you want to discuss something else, let me know, I like to chat. Thank you for reading my little flight of fancy.

[floral-moon-light]

Ok, the entirety of Purgatory for the QSMP is now officially over, so I am going to talk about it and the Cucurucho streams and related media that has poped up! I'm not going to give a day to day rundown of Pergatory, so if you came for that I suggest instead going for the vods. Personally there was to much fighting, sound, and general chaos (along side the fact that the majority of the streams were long) for me to give a good recap of all the days.

However, I will give a timeline of events outside Purgatory; if you do not want to be spoiled about Cucurucho's actions or any related news, I suggest you look at the QSMP Twitter and Cucuruchos streams!

Ok, so timeline of the events on Pergatory and QSMP.

QSMP Islanders wake up on Egg island and are split into 3 teams: Bolas!?! Headed by Philza, Soulfire headed by Tubbo, and the Green Gay Ninjas headed by Etoiles. Where the teams would spend 2 weeks competing to try and save some of the eggs.

At the half way point (day 7 or 8) the Green Gay Ninjas team were eliminated, and roughly the same day we got the first of 2 streams with Cucurucho as our main actor. The stream at the beginning was just Cucurucho at his home going about his normal life outside of being in charge of the local Federation branch. However, during this we get the actual timeline of when this happened in the flow of Purgatory. The video that played while sending the islanders off the island played before Cucurucho's eyes and the bear was from the sounds of it confused on what was going on. Pointing to the fact that Cucurucho was either not kept in the loop, or that potential the broadcast was not actually the federations doing. After which Cucurucho gets an island report from a federation worker with glasses (which, cute) that points to a huge problem involving what we later learn is called the "shadow virus" before calling for a meeting with all available federation workers.

During this meeting we learn a few things (this is I no particular order). 1. The workers and guards are definitely scared from Cellbit's murder spree, but do not known it was him. 2. The coffee machine is broken and a federation worker is not happy about this fact or the fact they have to drink tea instead. 3. A worker reports that while the islanders were sent off because of matanance, they have lost complete contact with them likely due to a third party (-cough cough-eyeball man -cough cough-). And as such suggested sending someone off to try and gain contact and return the islanders to the island. 4. The scientific team has yet to figure out anything involving the black concrete 5. Fred is still missing and the federation workers are worried. 6. The code entities were trying to send out a signal... And the reporting federation member also mention a plan to fource all federation members to drink apple juice?

Honestly part of what the initial meeting showed along side all that was revealed was the individual personalities of all the federation workers. Something Cucurucho does not reprimand them for, instead just seeming to sigh at.

After this Cucurucho sets all but one federation worker/guard to go clean up the black concrete, with the last member being sent off to Egg island. Cucurucho also left a note for Forever asking to talk.

After this we a stream showing us the federation worker that was sent off on Egg island, infected by the shadow virus and seemingly being forced to help direct the team allocation of green between the two remaining teams, before the worker promptly drops dead.

We don't see the last Cucurucho stream till either the 17th or the 18th where in we are given a tour of part of the upper level of Cucuruchos home before He sets of back to the federation office for an update meeting with all workers not in the med bay or in a good enough state to preform tasks and talk.

We see that the office has been mostly cleaned up, but the shadow virus now infects the majority of the federation workers with one worker being infected by something else. Once in the meeting room, where a table had been set up closer to the podium a new set of reports was given (interrupted on occasion by Cucurucho getting distracted by lizards that are somehow in the facility.)

(also, new Cucuruchovoice lines!) the updated reports are: 1. There is still no progress on the murders, but it is very likely an Island member conducting the action. 2. All actions to try and trace the islanders have failed, and the worker sent off was also lost. While mentioning that the islanders left by a non-official route. 3. The eggs are still missing, and they have no apparent leads on what happened to them. As well as mentioning that the Eggs should not have been able to leave on their own... Also, the apple juice worker again says a plan to get all to drink it. 4. ... The coffee maker is still broken, and the worker seems to be going insane from the tea... 5. As well as a report of while cleaning resident homes of the black concrete finding code monster residual.

The last report was an unofficial one while the group checked out the progress on removing the black concrete... During this, Cucurucho fell into a deep hole that was left unfixed in front of the bridge to the president's office, leading to Cucurucho giving an exasperated sigh before saying "it's tough to be a boss sometimes". The unofficial report reports the biggest spot of the second virus problem, this time relating back to the code monsters and the code egg. Leading to samples being taken.

After this, while Cucurucho went to leave a note to Foolish with a guard and a single worker once of the little eyeball creatures from Pergatory (Luffy) sails into the area and Cucurucho has a brief interaction with them as the child reveals "purgatory" that something is happening with the residents, as well as the instigator of Pergatory. Eventually leading Luffy to be taken into custody to gain more information before Cucurucho goes home with the picture of the purgatory man as he questions who they are in relation to this incident.

After this the end of predatory happens where a tie is broken between the Bolas and soulfire team in Bolas's favor. After which the predatory man reveals they have a spy in their talks and tells them to play hide and seek with him. Bringing them to an area with a federation worker with a single eye before the eggs are revealed, as well as El Quackity being the spy. It is then revealed that the egg "choice" was a single egg chosen by luck, before a confrintation leads to the island creator setting off a nuke timber. That leads to most of the islanders not making it off? (certain. Need official channal information that might not be available till wensdsy if Phil can't get on QSMP tomorrow.)

Also, on the official twitter a video of Richarlison having survived the bomb is shown as well as a missing poster for... Cucurucho...

Whatever is going on has just made everything much more confusing.

Also, just an odd note, has the QSMP info canal logo changed to a black cucurucho face for anyone else (or... A white shirted man screaming?)? Or is this just me...