#hope everyone’s having a wonderful day!!!!!!!!!!!

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid - Part 2

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4705

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: Thank you so much for the response to part 1! And thank you to everyone who was so patient and understanding for this part taking a while to write. I hope you all like it.

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Wanda seems to be in a better mood lately, Natasha notices, probably because the two of you rekindled whatever complicated romance you had going on. And as sad and lonely as it had made Natasha feel, at least Wanda was being less rude to her, and that would always be a win in her book.

The grocery trips and errands she sends Natasha on are less demanding, although Natasha’s unsure if she’s becoming more comfortable or Wanda’s gotten less picky. Wanda still requests Natasha’s help for her weekly meetings, and Natasha cannot understand why someone who is unemployed goes so out of her way to find the most mundane, meaningless things to participate in. But it keeps Natasha paid and busy, and she still gets to see you a few times a week.

“What are you doing this weekend, Natasha?” Wanda asks while the two of them are in the kitchen. Wanda is on her laptop while Natasha stands at the counter, cutting vegetables for dinner.

“Um…” Natasha knows better than to tell Wanda the truth, which is that she’ll be sitting alone in her apartment for the next two days and eating ice cream on her couch. “Some friends invited me to go shopping with them at the mall,” she lies. She doesn’t have friends and she certainly doesn’t have the budget to shop at a mall after all the debt she still owes.

“I’ll be gone all weekend with some girlfriends,” Wanda says, not even acknowledging Natasha’s plans, which makes her wonder why she had even bothered to ask in the first place. “I’m not into wine tasting much, but the girls go nuts for it. I’m just going for the spa at the resort, between you and me.”

Natasha has no idea what to do with this information. But she’s spared from answering when the garage door rumbles open.

Wanda slams her laptop shut. “Oh, Y/N is home early.” She gets up to greet you. Natasha can hear your voices carry through the hall.

“You’re early tonight,” Wanda says. “I was just telling Natasha about my weekend plans to Vermont with the girls–”

“Your weekend plans?” you interrupt. “Since when did you have plans to go to Vermont?” Natasha has never heard you sound genuinely angry before. She stops cutting the carrots to focus on eavesdropping.

“Carol wanted to go for her birthday!” your wife says.

“Wanda,” you say, your voice lowering. “Our anniversary is this weekend. I booked us a stay at the Ritz and got us tickets to see Wicked–”

“Well, just ask for a refund!” Wanda hisses. Natasha is stunned that this is her first response to forgetting about her entire anniversary with you. “And we can celebrate when I get back–”

“‘Get back?’” you repeat. “That’s not the point, Wanda. Why don’t you ask for a refund for your trip–”

“I can’t do that to the girls,” Wanda says. “Carol’s been looking forward to this for months!”

You mumble something that Natasha can’t hear. She feels awful for you. Clearly, you had spent a lot of money and time planning a nice outing, and your wife didn’t seem to care one bit. In fact, she tried to put the blame on you for intruding on her plans. Natasha felt herself shaking with rage for you. You deserved so much better.

The two of you trudge into the kitchen and Natasha hastily goes back to cutting the carrots. Wanda is hanging onto your arm, tiptoeing to whisper into your ear but you shake her off and walk through the kitchen to the staircase. Natasha knows that Wanda is glaring at the back of her head, probably upset that she had overheard, but for once she doesn’t say anything and disappears after you.

The mood is particularly subdued when Natasha serves up roasted salmon with a colorful vegetable medley and mashed potatoes. 

“Thank you, Natasha,” you say as she hands you a loaded plate. 

Wanda doesn’t say anything when Natasha gives her a plate.

While the two of you eat in awkward silence, Natasha cleans up the kitchen, her final task of the day. She grabs her purse and heads towards the door, when she hears footsteps behind her.

It’s you.

“Can I walk you out to your car?” you ask. “I know it’s a safe neighborhood, but I don’t want you walking out in the dark by yourself.”

Natasha is so flattered by your offer she doesn’t stop to consider how Wanda might feel about this.

“Sure, I really appreciate that. Thank you.” She leads the way out of your house.

“Sorry you always have to park around the corner,” you add, maintaining a respectful distance from her on the sidewalk. “I’ve told Wanda the whole neighborhood knows you work for us. But she’s…” you trail off, clearly not wanting to speak ill of your wife.

“I’m sorry she forgot your anniversary,” Natasha blurts out. 

You seem startled that Natasha had been eavesdropping, but quickly recover. “Well, it’s…it’s not the first time she’s done it,” you admit in a soft voice. “I don’t know why I bother trying to do anything special anymore. It’s just another day to her. And it seems like she’d rather spend it with anyone but me.”

“She’s missing out,” Natasha says, surprised by her own confidence. “You’re a wonderful person and you deserve someone who will appreciate the efforts you go to celebrate important milestones like that.” She stops before she can offer herself up.

“Oh. Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” 

The two of you stop at Natasha’s beat-up Nissan. 

“Thanks for walking me to my car–” she starts.

“Are you busy this weekend?” you ask suddenly, in a rushed whisper as if Wanda is around the corner listening. “If you’re not, would you like to see Wicked with me at the Gershwin Theater? I told Wanda I could probably get a credit with the Ritz, but I don’t want to deal with the hassle of exchanging the tickets, too. You can come over Saturday night and I’ll drive us?”

Natasha is so shocked by your proposal she doesn’t even have the words to agree at first. Growing up, she had loved watching musical movies until the VHS tapes wore out, but she had never had the opportunity to see a live performance. Even now as an adult, she still didn’t have the time nor the budget to see a show. To hear you ask that you wanted her to join you, when you had bought the tickets for you and your wife to enjoy on your anniversary she had forgotten, sounded almost too good to be true.

But if Wanda found out you had taken Natasha instead of her…Natasha shuddered at the thought. Maybe this was stepping over the line of professionalism. Natasha wanted to keep her job (and her head), and as much as the opportunity was a dream come true for her, she didn’t want to take advantage of your kindness or weakness.

“Um, I’m supposed to go shopping at the mall with some friends on Saturday,” Natasha says, cringing at the patheticness of her life. “But really–thank you for inviting me. I’m sure you have friends you’d rather take over your maid.”

“I don’t have any friends,” you say, so deadpan that Natasha almost laughs but quickly turns it into a cough when she realizes you’re being serious. While you seemed more reserved than your wife, Natasha refused to believe you didn’t have a strong social network. You were in charge of your own company and clearly doing well if you lived in this neighborhood and could afford a personal housemaid like her.

“Good evening!” The two of you startle when a cheery voice comes out of nowhere.

“Hello, Mr. Vision,” Natasha says, spotting the eccentric man first as he walks by at a rapid pace.

“Late night walk, Vis?” you call out, and he nods with a wave, pumping his arms faster and milling away. The only thing Natasha knew about Vision was that he lived by himself at the end of the street. He had no wife or kids that she knew of, not even a job as he was constantly seen walking around the neighborhood at odd hours. But he never approached Natasha or made her feel uncomfortable, which was more than she could say for most of the people living here, so she was happy to ignore him.

When Vision moves out of sight, you say, “Well, if your plans happen to change…” You fumble in your pockets awkwardly, pulling out a bent business card and handing it to Natasha. “My cell number is on there. Text me before Saturday if you’re still interested.”  

“Okay.” Natasha doesn’t want to get your hopes (or hers) up, but she still isn’t convinced this is a good idea. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Natasha.”

She loves the way her name sounds coming out of your mouth.

***********************************************************************

Natasha is still unsure she made the right decision to turn down your offer to see Wicked. She even called her only friend, Clint, to ask if she should’ve said yes.

“Well, you’re just seeing a show together. Think of it like a work bonus or something. Bosses give their employees nice stuff like that all the time,” Clint says as Natasha picks at a box of takeout in front of the television. Cooking at home was not her favorite chore after doing it all day for her clients.

“Yes, but it’s just the two of us,” Natasha stresses. “Y/N got the tickets to celebrate an anniversary and Wanda already hates me as it is–”

“Nah, she doesn’t hate you,” Clint says.

“You haven’t met her! You don’t see the way she treats me.”

“Exactly. Maybe this is Y/N’s way of apologizing for her behavior,” Clint says.

“I don’t know…” It was already Friday night. Natasha didn’t have much time now to change her mind if she was going to.

“Be nice to yourself, Nat. Let someone do something for you,” Clint goes on. “You work so hard for these people all the time. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to see a live performance.” Natasha feels tears well up in her eyes. She wishes Clint was here in person so she could give him a hug. “Nothing bad will happen. Just tell Y/N you want to go before someone else takes your spot.”

Natasha takes a steely breath. Clint is right. It wasn’t a date. It just was her nice boss treating her out to a Broadway show. Never mind the fact that you had intended to take your wife initially. Wanda would never have to know, right?

“Okay. Thanks, Clint.”

“Enjoy!”

As soon as she hangs up, Natasha goes into her texts. She already created a contact for you the night you gave her your business card. Her anxiety is through the roof as she types out a message to you, then deletes it and starts over. She gets more and more frustrated trying to find the right words, before she finally throws in the towel and clicks “Send.”

Less than a minute later, you respond.

Happiness explodes inside of Natasha. She can hardly believe her luck. Not only does she get to see her first Broadway show, but she gets to see it with you, and have dinner on top of it. She darts over to her closet, looking for the nicest dress she owns.

Wanda be damned. Natasha was going to have a great night with you. 

***********************************************************************

“Table for two, please.”

“Did you have a reservation?” the blonde woman at the podium asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Oh, well, I’m so sorry, but we’re all booked out for the evening,” she apologizes. 

Natasha stands behind you meekly. She can’t even pronounce the name of the restaurant and doesn’t know what kind of food they serve, but it’s probably far beyond anything she could ever afford. She’s wearing a dark green dress that almost reaches her ankles and is conservative in protecting her assets, and spent over an hour doing her makeup, and she wonders if strangers will look at the two of you and assume you’re a couple. She wouldn’t go out of her way to correct them.   

“That’s okay. This was a last-minute plan for us,” you explain. “If Tony is working tonight, can you please tell him Y/N stopped by to say hello?”

“Wait, you know Mr. Stark?” the woman pales. “Don’t go anywhere. You said your name is Y/N?”

You smile and nod. The woman steps down from her podium and dashes into the back. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have any friends,” Natasha boldly teases. 

You turn and wink at her. 

“Tony and I went to college together,” you explain, although this implies you shared a friendship of some kind. “And clearly, his business is doing better than mine–”

The woman quickly returns with a short bearded man wearing a gray suit with red-tinted glasses that match his tie. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouts, embracing you in a dramatic hug. “You should’ve told me you were coming tonight! I could’ve put together a private booth in the back–”

“It was last-minute,” you say. “This is Natasha, by the way. She’s a friend.” Natasha is thrilled at the way you associate her with you.

“Hello, Natasha, I’m Tony.” He takes her hand and gently kisses her knuckles. He doesn’t seem surprised you haven’t brought Wanda along instead. “I take it you haven’t been here before, Miss Natasha? You won’t need a menu, I’ll have the chef bring out the best dishes we have tonight.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you say. 

“Follow me! You can have a table in our east wing. Where’s Wanda?” Tony says rapid-fire, turning around and leading them deeper into the restaurant. You step out of the way and motion to let Natasha go first, and she feels your hand graze her back as she walks past you. 

“She’s out with her girlfriends for the weekend,” you answer from behind Natasha. 

“Your anniversary is coming up, right?” Tony asks.

“Yes,” you respond, your voice suddenly tense.

The restaurant is packed, every visible table filled with customers, until they turn around a corner to a quiet, completely empty area.

“Pick any table. I’ll have a waiter come out with some drinks shortly,” Tony says.

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Natasha echoes, unsure if she likes this special treatment. You pick a table near the corner and pull her chair out for her. As soon as the two of you are seated, a waiter in a vested suit appears with a few bottles of wine, making suggestions and pouring samples into the glasses. Natasha doesn’t have enough knowledge to understand what he’s saying or differentiate the tastes, but she enjoys the experience. It feels strange to have someone serve her, when she’s normally the one waiting on people’s every demand. 

The two of you share several appetizers together. Natasha feels like she’s floating in a dream. You have been nothing but generous and respectful to her, but every time your left hand reaches across the table for the caviar, the wedding ring on your finger taunts her. 

The dinner itself is a four-course affair, including a rich chocolate cake that Natasha devours faster than she can fully enjoy. When the bill arrives (which Tony has already chopped in half), Natasha still asks if she can chip in (despite knowing full well she doesn’t have the money to cover even her portion), but you push her card away and give the waiter your black card.

The theater is three blocks from Tony’s restaurant, so you leave your car in valet parking and ask Natasha if she’s okay walking. She had not planned ahead very well, so she only has a thin cardigan to cover her shoulders. You notice her shivering and offer her your heavy black jacket that completely engulfs her frame. Your scent completely surrounds her now and Natasha swears she won’t wash this dress ever again.

The line into the theater moves quickly and Natasha follows you all the way down to the front, where your seats are perfectly center to the stage. She crawls over a few people, feeling a little smug about getting some of the best seats in the house. You had truly spoiled her tonight and she was never going to forget this. 

She leans over to whisper to you before the show begins. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ve already had so much fun and the dinner was amazing.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank you for joining me, and thank you for all the hard work you do for my family,” you say and Natasha beams. “Me and Wanda really appreciate it.” Natasha deflates a little at the mention of your wife, but she pushes her out of her mind to focus on her time with you. 

As they wait, Natasha props her arm up on the armrest between you two so she can hold the playbill at a comfortable angle to read. Suddenly, your arm drops heavily on hers and she looks at you in confusion. You’re reading your own playbill and don’t seem to notice that your massive arm is practically crushing hers.

“Um, Y/N?” she prompts, clearing her throat.

“Hmm? Oh!” You quickly move your arm off hers. “I’m so sorry, I thought that was Wanda’s arm,” you explain with a nervous chuckle. Natasha laughs too, although she isn’t sure if she should be happy or worried that she reminds you of your wife. She’d be happy to take Wanda’s place any day, though. 

The musical is amazing, impressive beyond anything Natasha had ever expected. She cries when Elphaba defies gravity, and after the whirlwind of the second act, she is among the first to give a standing ovation. She’s floating on cloud nine as she walks with you out of the theater back to the car.

The drive back to your home is quick at the late hour. Just as you're about to pull into the driveway, you slam hard on the brakes, jolting everyone forward. Vision power walks past the beams of your headlights, only breaking the pump of his arms to wave in thanks.

“What is he doing out so late?” you ask, and Natasha is relieved to know she’s not the only one who thinks his habits are a bit odd.

“No idea,” she mumbles, watching you pull onto the driveway and stop.

“Thank you so much, Y/N,” Natasha says, still giddy with excitement.“This was the best night of my life. I’ve always wanted to see a Broadway show, ever since I was a little girl. I never thought I’d get the chance, even after I moved here–”

“You’re very welcome,” you interrupt, seeming almost shy with the praise.

“I’m sorry Wanda wasn’t able to join you for your own anniversary,” she adds, although she’s not sure why.

You shrug. “Nothing we can do about it now. Besides, I’m glad you were able to join me and had such a fun night. I don’t think this would have been nearly as fun by myself.”

There is a pause and Natasha has to force herself to stop looking at your lips. If she had no self-restraint, it wouldn’t have taken much for her to lean over the center console and kiss you.

“Have a good night, Natasha. Drive home safely,” you say as the two of you get out of the car.

“Thank you again!” Natasha doesn’t even listen to music on her way home, riding out the high of what was easily one of the most memorable nights of her life in over a decade.

***********************************************************************

A few weeks later, Natasha is working a double shift: the first one at Steve’s house, and the second at yours. You’re away at work, as usual, but she knows you’ll be home before she leaves for the day, and she never takes any glimpse of you for granted. Wanda is also back to being demanding and cranky, and Natasha has no idea if you told her about the night the two of you had together. She had felt the silent instruction from you not to blab about her taking Wanda’s place and was happy to keep the memories to herself.

She’s in the front hall, mopping while quietly humming “Defying Gravity” to herself, when Wanda clacks by in high-heels.

“Natasha!” she hisses. “Didn’t I tell you to start in the kitchen? If I slip out here because the floor is wet–”

“So sorry!” Natasha apologizes, hoping that she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I’ll put a fan on.” She rests her mop against the wall and darts off for the $300 Dyson fan in the closet. After pointing it towards the gleaming floor, she pushes her cart into the kitchen and continues mopping. She makes sure to open the window to air out the smell, and notices Steve across the street mowing his lawn. 

She stares at him, wondering if he can see her, and her question is quickly answered when Steve waves to her. She returns his wave with a smile, then goes back to her task before Wanda can complain she isn’t working hard enough. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him back away from his lawn mower and answer his phone; he disappears into his house hurriedly. 

“Natasha! Always make sure you open a window when you mop!” Wanda’s screech comes out of nowhere. “The chemicals you use give me a headache!”

“Oh, but the window is open–” Natasha tries to explain, but Wanda silences her with a wave of her hand.

“I’m on the phone!” she says, pointing to the cell phone held up to her ear. Natasha bites her lip, but holds her tongue. “Sorry, honey, what was that? No, I was talking to the maid,” she says. Natasha perks up despite the way Wanda titles her. You’re clearly on the other line, and maybe you’ll be home sooner than expected.

But Wanda disappears into a guest room (your house had so many of those), and Natasha can no longer hear her conversation. She dutifully continues to mop the floor, careful to fan the mop in a semi-circle pattern so as not to trap herself in a corner. She moves the chairs to the hallway one at a time, cursing their awkward shape that makes them difficult to carry and taking special care not to scrape the feet along the floor. 

Wanda’s shrill voice carries through the house again, this time covering a topic that makes Natasha’s cheeks heat up.

“Oh my God, yes, I’m still thinking about last night,” Wanda says. “When you had my legs behind my head–”

Natasha tries not to picture Wanda folded up like a pretzel while you plow into her. But she can imagine herself in a similar position (she’s not so confident in her own flexibility, but she’d make it work for you). Your hands could probably fit around her whole thighs as you push her legs apart wider, thrusting your hips in long strokes to fit your big dick into her. Natasha is embarrassed to admit that the last time she had masturbated, she had thought of you the whole time.

How much more you’d fill her compared to the flimsy toy she was using. How you would feel throbbing inside her, your body pressed hot and heavy against hers as you beg for her permission to finish. Imagining having you like that, with that kind of control, brought Natasha to the most amazing orgasm of her life. If only you had been there to share it with her. 

“I didn’t know if you’d be able to go another round, but you proved me wrong,” Wanda continues, and Natasha picks up on how breathless she sounds. She wonders if she’s touching herself right now, with Natasha mopping in the kitchen. Somehow, that wouldn’t be shocking to her. “You were still so hard when I put you down my throat.”

A lightning bolt of arousal strikes Natasha’s core. She can’t focus on mopping anymore, staring blankly out the kitchen window, lost in the new filthy fantasy playing in her head, guided by Wanda’s narration. 

Natasha lies between your legs, her lips barely brushing your hips as she takes your cock down her throat. She prays her gag reflex doesn’t protest at the obstruction in her airway, but despite the slight discomfort, she wants to do this all day. Your pants and moans are like music in her ears, urging her on to suck harder and take you deeper.

“Please Nat,” your voice wavers. The muscle fibers in your thighs are visibly tensed and your back arches off the bed when Natasha pushes your hips down, trying to maintain some kind of control over you. But your body seems to have a mind of its own, with only one goal in mind. 

“It’s almost like I can still taste you.”

You poke at the back of her throat and Natasha can feel the hot throbbing of your cock in her mouth. She’s so eager to swallow anything you’ll give her, she’s almost embarrassed in her desperation, but when your hands cup the back of her head, pushing her down so she can fit the last inch down her throat, she knows the two of you are on equal planes of passion.

Your entire body flexes and the anticipation for Natasha is overwhelming. You finally inhale sharply as the first hot spurt lands on her tongue. 

“Being on your knees for me is a good look for you.”

Natasha tips her head back against the wall, her fingers tangling in your hair. One of her legs rests on your shoulder while the other is spread far apart so you can kneel between them, your mouth pressed against her heat. Your tongue swirls around her clit and Natasha fears she won’t be able to stay standing much longer. 

“Y/N,” she pants, clutching your head tighter and rocking her hips forward. “I need you.”

Your fingernails dig harder into her thigh to still her. You look up into her eyes and Natasha thinks she’s going to finish right there. “You have me, baby. I’m all yours.”

“But there’s really only one place you belong.”

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you grunt, almost sending Natasha headfirst into the headboard with every one of your thrusts. “I could stay inside you forever.”

Natasha hums at the praise. She’s holding on the bedsheets for life, spasming and clenching around you, trying to pull you in deeper. You fill her so perfectly, she’s convinced her body was made for yours. 

“Tell me I’m better than her,” Natasha gasps, fighting to delay her own release.

“Fuck Wanda,” you grunt, pulling back on Natasha’s hips at the same time you thrust forward, burying your entire length into her. “I love you, Natasha. You’re the only one I ever want to be with.”

A noisy car engine pulls Natasha out of her head. Her face feels flushed with arousal, and she knows what she’s doing the second she goes home. Your green car suddenly pulls into the driveway but stops. You get out and walk to the street, grabbing one of the trash bins and pulling it towards the house.

“I can’t wait for you to fuck me again,” Wanda says in the background.

The realization crashes down on Natasha’s head like a cold shower. She watches you grab the second bin with both hands, carefully walking backwards with it.

You’re not on the phone and you’re standing 30 feet away from Natasha. If Wanda’s not on the phone with you, then who is she talking to?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Who do you think Wanda was talking to? 👀

To be continued...(hopefully)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[conkreetmonkey]

Fun story: My last job was at a restaurant. They hired me among many other workers all at once. This is because the kitchen had recently burnt down, thankfully after hours and without hurting anyone, so they had to temporarily close and rebuild; can't very well run a restaurant with no kitchen, after all. Presumably they'd laid everyone off and were completely restocking their labour pool in like a week. My first day was wonderful. People were patient about training me, the manager was sweet and made sure everyone was staying hydrated, and she even personally brought me a glass of water while I was on my break. Like any person would have, I took this as a good sign. Then, over the next few months, things began to devolve. There's like 5 stories in there about the extortion, ER visits, second-degree burns, and explosive stress diarrhea, but basically that once sweet manager slowly became a demon, and my once fun and kind coworkers began doing things like threatening to harm my work bestie unless I performed unsafe work that was guaranteed to burn me due to inadequate PPE, or yelling obscenities at me for asking perfectly reasonable questions. It went from heaven to hell over the span of a single damp, mild autumn. So, as you can guess, I came to resent the place. But there's another element to it:

in my time working there, I would come to learn that the fire that destroyed the place was entirely preventable; there was a known gas leak in one of the deep fryers, and management knew, but refused to shell out the $15 to patch the line (just like they refused to give us PPE, or generally fix anything ever). Quite a long time after they found out and after many staff reports of this gas leak, one night, it somehow finally ignited, and a $15 expense suddenly turned into tens of thousands of dollars. One night, while I was manning the fryers, I noticed one of them was producing bubbles of opaque white smoke from under the oil. My coworkers assured me it was "normal" and "just some food stuck under there." I've worked many a deep fryer, and had been working those particular ones for months, and never seen such a thing before. It was pretty easy for me to put two and two together on that one. The lifers weren't having it and insisted I ignore it and get back to work. A few weeks later, I quit on the spot after getting cussed out over asking if anybody had put an order in the oven yet. My work bestie was fired shortly afterwards, for what she claims was written down as "disobeying orders." She was very allergic to the fryer oil we used, it made her break out in painful, swollen hives, but the lifers kept insisting on making her clean the fryers, so it was probably that, I imagine. Who knows, though? There came a point where it was never enough, no amount of speed or cleanliness or quality. We were always understaffed, and now they'd fired one of their best workers. I met another one of the coworkers I'd bonded with working elsewhere. It was retail, under a notorious asshole boss, but at least it wasn't there. Her arms were covered in deep burn scars the day she'd walked in, so I imagine she's used to it. I hope she'd okay. I should probably try to check in on her, actually. I never asked if she left or was fired. I know they never patched the leak. They didn't the first time. Of course they didn't learn their lesson, the whole place was just a number in the bloated investment portfolio of some silver spoon fatcat from Toronto, he didn't give a fuck. None of us ever even met him, or learned his name. Fully hands off. We'd pull like $15,000 or even $20,000 some nights, but all made minimum wage, and were always one call-in away from total collapse. They kept cutting hours. They would send people home in the middle of dinner rushes because "we're spending too much money on labour." Schedules became mere suggestions. We were never given end times to begin with. 11 or 12 hour shifts weren't uncommon on my end, but sometimes I'd only get 3. It was a coin flip every night. My point is, the place was managed, on all levels, by people who'd drown if it rained. Thinking about how perfect the place could have been still makes my heart rate increase. It filled a niche with absolutely no local competition. Our profit margins were absurd. And yet the dullards filling the office chairs didn't understand that you need cooks to produce food, and the place began creaking under their weight. I left before something gave. I suppose me leaving was something giving though, in a way. I worked my ass off for that place. I made them thousands, IN PROFIT, every night. I feel like maybe that triggered the exodus that followed, idk. Don't want to aggrandize myself too much. As far as I know, the second burning hasn't happened yet. But it will. It's all but guaranteed to. I hope that, just like last time, nobody's there when it happens. But I also hope that, unlike the first time, this time the entire place completely, unsalvageably burns down to ash, reduced to a concrete foundation. I hope there's nothing left to rebuild. I hope the cycle finally ends. I pretty much never got to take my legally mandated break again after that first shift, btw. Should have seen it as a sign, but it was just one shift right? They needed me, they said. They needed me.

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

That’s Not What Friends Do (part 2)

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Warnings: none, this is so short I’m so sorry I just don’t have the motivation to finish this ugh..

part 1

As soon as the Brazilian GP was over, you were overcome with guilt for not being there for Lando. You already knew how it would look like after an unsuccessful race, he would shift all the blame to himself and that failure would eat him up for days.

You couldn't help but wonder if anything would have been different if you had gone to Brazil with him. Probably not, but at least you could have given him the comfort he so desperately needed right then and there. And that's why as soon as he returned home, you immediately found yourself knocking on the door of his apartment in Monaco.

"Hey, Lan" You gave him a soft smile looking straight into his eyes when he opened the door.

He smiled weakly back at you, saying nothing. He didn't even need to say anything because you could see the sadness in his sleepless eyes, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight and comforting hug.

"What took you so long?" He whispered as he buried his head in your neck, holding his arms tightly around your waist.

"I'm sorry, I came as soon as I could" You said gently caressing the back of his head.

The evening went by with you trying to talk to him about it, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He just wanted to take his mind off what was, for him, a tough defeat and enjoy your company, so you didn't push it.

You ordered food, had dinner, and then turned on a movie. Everyone was on their own end of the couch, Lando was lying on the elongated part, and you were sitting a little further away from him.

As the movie went on, you kept adjusting your position because it became uncomfortable for you to keep sitting.

"What's wrong?" Lando asked when you let out a deep sigh. "Are you getting bored with the movie?"

"No, but my back is starting to hurt." You stretch as you say.

"Come here" He extends his arm, signaling you to come lie down next to him.

"It's okay, don't worry" You want to. So much. But you know you shouldn't.

"Come" He insists.

You sigh, but move over to him anyway, resting your head on his shoulder as he wraps his arm around you. The movie continues, but Lando completely shifts his focus from the movie to you. Lucky for him, you don't see his gaze drop down to you as you lie curled up next to him, but you definitely feel his fingers gently playing with your hair. You just hope that the butterflies you feel in your stomach don't jump out and give you away.

"Are you okay, Lan?" You ask looking up at him.

He smiles at you and places his hand on your cheek. "I'm better now"

You blush at his gesture, thinking to yourself this is not what friends do. Lando was almost certain he was going to kiss you tonight. This was the perfect opportunity with you on him like this, with you pressed tightly against him and in his arms. Everything was leading to that.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be with you for the weekend. I was really busy finishing up the project I'd been working on."

"Were you really?" He asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Of course I was. I don't understand why do you think I would lie to you?”

"I don't know." He shrugs. "Maybe you wanted to be with your date that you still haven't told me about." The butterflies in your stomach fly away as soon as he mentions the date.

At that very moment, so late at night, your phone, which was next to you on the couch, rang and the screen displayed Charles' name and surname and seeing that, Lando's heart dropped.

"Charles Leclerc? You're fucking Charles Leclerc?"

@tvdtw4ever @gulphulp @harrysdimple05 @444-leqz @htpssgavi @honethatty12 @l-vroom4 @enjoythebutterflies3 @charlesgirl16 @scopeiguess @dontsupressthejess

[desperate-gay]

Kristie mewis x reader panic attack or maybe a little relapse with reader and Kristie is there as her girlfriend .

Safe With You

Kristie Mewis x fem!reader

summary: during a girls’ night out, you encounter someone you never thought you’d see again, triggering a panic attack. Your best friend Kristie helps you through it and later helps reveal true feelings

“Ooo, this one right here!” Kelley yells, pointing out the downtown club. Some of the gotham girls, along with you, decided it was a beautiful night out and since you didn’t have any responsibilities the next day, it was a perfect time to go out.

“How many more do you think we’re gonna go to?” You ask, leaning over to Kristie’s ear so no other pondering friends can listen in.

“Let’s hope this will be the last.” Kristie huffs, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and dragging you along with the group.

None of the girls are drunk but most are definitely tipsy. You have only had about two and a half drinks within the past couple of hours, so you’re not feeling any effects while Kristie has only had three.

Kelley is the most drunk out of everyone, even the younglings, and when Kelley is drunk, she never wants to stop partying. Many of the girls are not protesting considering this is the first free day they have had in weeks, especially Ali with having to take care of her kids.

The group finds a table somewhat in the corner of the bar, and a few of the girls go to the bar to order drinks. Kristie and you both sit on the high-top chairs across from Midge and Jenna. Kristie and Midge are in a heated discussion on what’s the best way to style and take care of your eyebrows while you and Jenna watch them with amused smiles.

Suddenly, a prickling at the back of your neck makes you turn around and flit your gaze nervously across the crowded room, almost as if a sudden fog made its way into the bar. As much as you look, you can’t seem to find anything out of the ordinary.

Relief washes over your face when Lynn arrives with hands full of drinks, sparking cheers around the table. Sure you haven’t drank much yet, but that just gives you reason to drink more now. Once you get a hold of your drink, you begin to take multiple large gulps, shocking the girls around you.

“Damn girl, the drink isn’t going anywhere.” Lynn teases while the other girls laugh along.

Kristie just stares at you in bewilderment, not being used to this side of you. You blush under everyone’s gaze and look around the dance floor to try and remove the unwanted attention.

Within minutes, many of the girls are pulled onto the dance floor, leaving you with Kristie and Midge at the table.

“How about you? What was the last date you had?” Midge asks you since you’re the only one who hasn’t shared. You shift a little uncomfortably at the two girl’s stares, especially one being your best friend who you have grown attracted to within the past year.

“Umm, it was a blind date set up by my friend a few months ago. He was sweet and all, but I just didn’t see it going anywhere.” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink.

“What did he do? Profession wise.” Midge wonders, intrigued by your love life you barely share any detail about.

“A lawyer.”

“So let me get this straight. He was sweet, a lawyer, and a good friend of your friend. Was he ugly?”

“No, he wasn't ugly at all, it’s just, I don’t know honestly.” You exhale, rubbing your hands on the glass cup sitting on the table.

“There has so got to be more to that story, but I’ll let you off the hook. For now.” Midge teases with a daunting glare directed at you.

You didn’t even realize how silent the blonde next to you had become. You couldn’t say the real reason as to why the blind date didn’t become a second one when the reason is sitting next to you. Around the time of the date, you began to feel new feelings about your best friend, and you’re still trying to depict them.

“You never told me about that date.” Kristie states, finally speaking up.

“I didn’t think it was that important.” You say, tensing your shoulders up subconsciously at the scene. Kristie just hums, not believing you for a second but deciding to let it go.

Soon Kelley returns to the table, drunk and ditsy, claiming everyone is such party poopers. You all roll your eyes at the girl but chuckle, and soon the blonde next to you is dragged by Kelley to the dance floor.

Kristie looks at you with pleading eyes as her arm is getting tugged off, begging for you to get her out of it, but you just shrug with an entertained smile. You notice the midfielder lipping something at you with a glare, but you’re too tipsy to understand.

“So, about that lawyer.” You laugh at the younger girl’s persistence, shaking your head with a disbelief look.

“Midgey, like I told you-”

That’s when you hear it. That booming, raspy laugh just a few feet away from you. You thought you’d never have to hear that ugly sound ever again, but of course, you’re proven wrong.

You slowly turn around, and when you do, you catch eyes with someone you haven’t seen since Boston College. His sinister smirk stretches across his face as he takes a sip of his beer, eyeing you up while the fear in your eyes grows.

Pins and needles spread through your limbs, leaving you numb. The glass in your hand feels distant, as if it belongs to someone else. Your ears become muffled, blocking Midge’s worried calls out for you. And then your heartbeat. It starts to speed up five times its usual pace, causing your breathing to match its fast rate.

“Midge, what’s going on?” Ali asks, having come back to rest from all the dancing.

“I have no clue, one second we were talking and the next we weren’t.” Midge furrows her eyebrows with a worried expression, trying to figure out how to help.

“Here, help me take her outside.” Ali demands, continuing to try and grab your attention and ask if it’s okay if she touches you.

When you don’t answer, Ali softly touches your arm and when you don’t react, she wraps your arm around her shoulder to support your weight. Midge wraps her arms around your midsection once Ali stands you up, and you can’t even feel either touch.

The girls get you so close until you suddenly become deadweight in the corner of the bar, dragging the two girls down with you so you don’t get injured. Your knees curl up to your chin, and your arms wrap around your legs. Your whole body feels like TV static, numbing your mind along with it.

“What do we do? She’s clearly panicking!” Midge begins to freak out, becoming extremely worried at your state, watching tears run down your wide eyes.

“Go get Kristie.”

“What?”

“Go grab Kristie! Now, Midge!” Ali doesn’t mean to yell, but she’s not sure how long you’ll go without passing out. Midge nods her head determinedly and runs onto the dance floor through the sweaty bodies to find the midfielder.

You never thought you’d run into that pathetic excuse of a man again. The beginning of your relationship was great sophomore year, but then it began to grow more tense. Arguing about the future, miscommunications, and disagreements turned into pushes, then slaps, and finally full-on punches.

It took you getting a concussion to finally put an end to what was happening. Kristie was there from the beginning, constantly trying to get you to move in with her and leave him, but you just couldn’t. Despite the abuse, you felt as if he still loved you.

Then a few months after the breakup came the stalking and threatening. He would follow you to classes, work, and even practices just to scare you. Along with that, we would make burner accounts and threaten to lie to the dean to get you kicked from school, and show explicit photos to your friends and family.

It took Kristie speaking up for you to finally file a restraining order. Ever since then, you haven’t seen or heard a peep from the man.

“What’s going on!” Kristie’s voice cuts through the loud air, approaching your curled-up body.

“We don’t know.” Midge admits, biting her lip anxiously at the scene of Kristie trying everything to get your attention.

“Well, what the hell happened!” Kristie’s voice raises, absolutely terrified at the state you're in and wanting to do whatever she can to get you out of it.

“One second we were talking and then the next she looked around and went into this!”

“Looked around?”

The midfielder quickly glances around the room, attempting to follow in your footsteps, and that’s when she sees it. More like sees him. That same smug smirk she remembers seeing years ago.

“Kriegs, I need you to go grab security. Quickly.” Without any hesitation, Ali runs to look for bouncers while Kristie turns her glare from the man over to you with a softened look.

Your eyes are looking everywhere and nowhere all at once. They’re moving yet you can’t focus or see a thing, but when you hear that familiar soothing voice, your vision begins to unblur.

“There you are.” The blonde states, watching your gaze finally make contact with hers.

Within seconds, your breathing begins to slow, reverting back to its original pace as soon as it can, helping your body relax and unnumb. Just the sound of Kristie’s voice and the soft touch of her hand have helped tremendously, although you aren’t in the clear.

Your breaths have slowed down from before but it’s still rapid compared to the normal rate, and most of your body remains dizzy.

“What can I help you with, ma’am?” The bouncer asks, approaching you two with Ali right next to him.

“I need you to get that man out of here.” Kristie demands, pointing to the cause of all this chaos.

“We can’t kick him out without cause. We haven’t heard any complaints.” The man asserts with furrowed brows, but Kristie doesn’t seem to take it.

“Is a restraining order enough? Escort him out or I will, sir.”

Many of the girls who have now gathered around, not too close to overwhelm you, eyes widened with impressed looks and smiles as they watch the bouncer scram to escort him out.

“Wow. Don’t wanna mess with Kristie and her girl.” Nealy mumbles to a nodding Jenna.

Meanwhile, you’re finally making progress on being able to talk, hear, and breathe normally. A lot of your body remains tingly along with weakness, but the blonde girl alongside you helps you with everything.

“Here she is.” Kristie murmurs softly, her voice cutting through the haze in your mind like sunlight breaking through a curtained window. Her steady tone anchors you, and your frantic gaze finally meets hers.

“You’re okay, you’re safe. I’m right here.” She calmly says, her touch is gentle but firm, hands rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your arms.

Your chest heaves as you fight to regain control of your breathing, each inhale catching like a hiccup in your throat. But her words, her presence, they’re a lifeline. Slowly, the static buzzing in your body begins to fade, replaced by a dull ache and a tingling warmth where her hands rest on your arms.

“That’s it.” Kristie encourages, her eyes locked on yours. “Breathe with me, okay? In and out.”

You nod shakily, mimicking her deep breaths. Your lungs still feel tight, but the rhythm she sets calms the chaos in your chest. Gradually, the room sharpens around you; the distant thrum of music, the faint chatter of the girls nearby. It’s overwhelming, but Kristie keeps your focus tethered to her.

“There you go.” she says when your breathing finally steadies. “You’re doing so good, honey.”

Your heart stumbles at her words, warmth spreading through your chest despite the lingering fear. You manage a small nod, though the effort feels monumental.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, your voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t know what happened. I saw him, and-”

“Stop, you don’t have to explain right now. It’s not your fault.” Kristie interrupts gently, shaking her head.

“She’s right, Y/n. None of this is your fault.” Midge steps closer, her face lined with concern.

You exhale shakily, the pressure in your chest lightening as you take in their words. Slowly, with Kristie’s help, you rise to your feet. Your legs wobble, lightheadedness threatening to pull you down again, but her arm is already around your waist, holding you steady.

“Easy, I’ve got you.” She says softly, her steady grip grounding you.

Her closeness, the protective strength in her touch, is almost too much to bear. Your cheeks flush a deep red, and you glance away, hiding the way her presence affects you. But Kristie notices, of course she does. Her hand lingers on your waist as her gaze searches yours.

“How about we head home, yeah?” The older girl suggests with a small smile.

“Yeah.”

—

When Kristie suggested going home, you both decided to just stay over at her apartment. It was close and for some reason comfier than yours in your opinion.

The midfielder was quick to offer you her clothes to sleep in which included a t-shirt and shorts. You were so relieved to take off the tight pants you had on along with your bra that felt like it was pushing your breasts all the way into your back.

You’re both cuddled together on the couch watching some sitcom on the TV. Cuddling isn’t new to you two, but ever since you realized your feelings for the older girl, your chest tightens and your cheeks flush whenever she gets this close.

Within minutes you’re asleep on the blonde’s chest, your cheek resting on her grey sweater and hair splattered across your face. Kristie is not too far behind, having soothed herself to sleep by threading her nails through the top of your head while the show in the background plays lightly.

The night passes in a peaceful blur, and when morning comes, sunlight streams through the window, warming your face. You squint against the brightness, groaning softly as you blink yourself awake. The warmth of Kristie’s arm draped over you lingers, grounding you in the moment, but you still try to sit up as well as you can without waking the girl.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Kristie rasps, her voice low and husky from sleep, with a sleepy grin spreading across her face as she stretches her arms over her head.

If you were half asleep before, you sure as hell aren’t now. The sound of her morning voice, paired with the pet name, sends a shiver down your spine. You’re not used to this side of her, so confident, so close. It makes your pulse race in ways you’re not sure you can control.

Kristie immediately notices the change in your posture despite only being up for a few minutes. She slowly sits up next to you, watching the side of your face and observing your reaction to her getting closer to you. When you turn, you slightly jump having not actually seen her move up close to you.

“Hi.” You manage a shaky smile, your heart still racing from the sudden closeness.

“Hi.” The girl’s lips curl into a soft grin, her blue eyes flickering between yours as if searching for something unspoken. The way she leans closer makes your breath hitch.

A new tension rises between you two as you both stare at one another with longing eyes, wanting so much more but not making a move. You don’t want to pull away. Maybe this is when something can happen between you two, but you’re too afraid to make the first move.

Suddenly, Kristie’s voice breaks the air with something unexpected.

“Please tell me to stop if I’m doing something you don’t want or like.”

Your breath catches in your throat as her words hang in the air. Kristie’s voice is quiet, almost hesitant, but there’s a certainty in her tone that makes your pulse quicken once again. Her gaze remains locked on yours, searching for any sign of hesitation.

You should say something. Anything. But all you can do is stare at her, your heart pounding in your chest like it’s trying to escape, too nervous to do something wrong.

“Kristie.” You finally whisper, unsure of where the courage to speak comes from.

Her name falls from your lips like a plea, and that’s all the confirmation she seems to need. Slowly, carefully, she closes the small space between you.

Her hand brushes against yours, the touch featherlight, as if she’s giving you the chance to pull away. You don’t. Instead, your fingers curl slightly, brushing hers in return.

“Is this okay?” She asks softly, voice trembling just enough to betray her own nerves.

“Yeah. It’s more than okay.” You nod, barely able to speak.

A small smile tugs at her lips before she leans in, her forehead resting lightly against yours. Her breath is warm against your skin, and you swear the world outside her apartment melts away. It’s just you and her now, caught in this fragile, perfect moment.

Her hand lifts to your cheek, her thumb tracing the crevices of your skin. The touch sends shivers down your spine, and for the first time, you realize just how much you’ve wanted this. Just how much you’ve been concealing these emotions.

And then, finally, she kisses you.

It’s gentle at first, her lips brushing against yours like a question, but when you don’t pull away, when you kiss back, it deepens. Your hands find their way to her shoulders repositioning and anchoring yourself to her as her fingers tangle in your hair.

Time slows. The sitcom that played throughout the night fades into white noise. All you can feel is her warmth, her touch, and the way she makes you feel like the center of the universe.

When she finally pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, and her grin is sheepish.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” She admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

You laugh softly, your own face warm.

“Me too.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the tension between you two isn’t uncertainty. It’s the start of something new.

[russellbee]

I MIGHT SAY SOMETHING STUPID (MV1)

max verstappen x driver!reader (team & gender are ambiguous) summary. you've never been good at talking to people. you can never form the right words, hold eye contact, or in worst cases, think before you speak. so truthfully, you're not really surprised when you end up confusing max with your spontaneous confession. unbeknownst to both of you, lando brings you back together. (writing, texts, + a bit of smau) (3.3k) warnings. for self-hate & mentions of hate comments, mentions of anxiety(!!!), everyone is confused and oblivious (except lando!), george and max rivalry is very present, mentions of alcohol & intoxication, use of y/n, reader has parents (and is close-ish with them), sorry if your name is spencer (the name is used for a friend), george doesn't have a gf(!!!), mentions of sex (but it’s really nothing), and cursing. andi's note!! inspired by my beautiful adhd brain 😍😍 (and my max obsession, ofc!) the title is from 'i might say something stupid' by charli xcx but the song doesn't have anything to do with the fic!

nav+masterlist

You've seen multiple media outlets say that your mouth is disconnected from your brain with the amount of (accidental) out of pocket things you've said. Your first post-race interview in F1 ended with you severely embarrassed because you tried to make a joke but the way you worded it made it sound rude. You had backtracked as soon as you realized how it came off (honestly, it took too long) but you still had the comments you'd seen online stuck in your head.

Every season in F1 you get increasingly more nervous to talk in interviews or to the other drivers; the comments and articles gnawing at your self esteem. But with Max it's always been different. He can laugh off an unintentional brash remark or just raise an eyebrow and in a snap you'll realize what went wrong. So, because of how easy it is to talk to Max you've become close.

You're in Abu Dhabi, the season's ended and George Russell is getting on your nerves. He's in your sight, talking to Lando and Alex; laughing. You don't dislike George, he's always been nice to you but your love for Max trumps your like for George. Love?

You're just a little tipsy. It's fine.

As long as George doesn't go near you maybe you won't open your mouth. It's always hard to stop talking the second you get alcohol in your system; not a single word is filtered, it all just comes out.

Someone is staring at you, it better not be George because he knows what you'd do for—

"Are you alright?" Max sits down next to you, gin & tonic in hand. He's so— warm. His thigh is pressed against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his body through his jeans. (It's not really warm enough for shorts but you couldn't remember the weather from last year, so you're stuck in a pair of shorts you brought to Qatar.)

"Huh?" What he said comes back to you and you stammer, "Oh, sorry. I'm fine just thinking. I guess."

"Thinking?"

"Yeah, y'know." You really are thinking; thinking about how good his cologne smells and wondering if it clings to him night and day. Does he always smell this great? How have you never noticed this?

"What are you thinking— Do you ever feel like, really obsessed with someone? Like you see them and you want them. Bad." You cut through his question with your own (stupid) question. Neither of you are looking at each other. You're too focused on not looking at him, actually. Why do you always do this? Did you never learn how to talk to people?

You're so busy panicking that you don't notice your eyes are still on George, and Max has noticed; his lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Had he been reading things wrong?

You're waiting at your gate when you get the text. You feel your phone buzz against your thigh and you hope, and hope that it's Max. You're terrified to message him first, worried he heard the meaning of your question and didn't want to acknowledge it. He hadn't said anything last night. Maybe he's finally sick of you. Can't even let him speak, or think before you talk with a single drop of alcohol in your body. You squeeze your eyes tight and will your brain to stop talking. Then, after a deep breath you open Whatsapp and see it's from Alex.

alex albon

did you tell max to apologise to george?

You blink. What? Never in your life would you think Max would apologize to George. You wouldn't tell him to either. What had gotten into him? Who would be able to change his mind like that?

alex albon

y/nnn

you have read receipts on ik you saw this

You sigh, trying to slow down your brain so you can make your thoughts coherent for Alex.

you

sorry i was thinking

didn't tell him to do that

idk why he would, it's not like him

alex albon

alright thanks 👍

i think we're all confused rn haha

Your boarding group is called and you feel a little bit of annoyance bubble in you. This is gonna be stuck in your mind for the entire flight.

the best rookies

lando

i think y/n likes george

or that's what max thinks at least

alex

and how did you come to this conclusion?

george

That makes no sense

Y/n and I don't talk that often

lando

i saw them together b4 y/n left

they were staring at us

prob george tho

considering everything

george

Many people stare at us, Lando

lando

you don't getttt it

max looked like

mad but confused?? he was very focused on you

and y/n looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them

v embarrassed yknow

alex

y/n probably just said smth wrong

can't really see them liking george

george

If anything, Y/n likes Max

lando

max doesn't care when they do that tho

ik y/n likes max thats like super obvious

ugh u guys dont get it at all 😒

You had practiced your speech for the awards, had repeated it over and over in your head. P3 in the championship, a first for you. Then you made a fool of yourself, stumbled over your words. People had laughed a bit, but in the back of your mind you acknowledge it had nothing to do with the jokes you attempted. At least you didn't have to take any more photos.

Lando finds you as you're about to leave, wiping the tears off of your cheeks and steadying your breathing. "You weren't that bad you know?" Lando teases and you let out a breathy laugh. "Fuck off." He laughs and you both start to leave the venue.

You make meaningless small talk. Lando is going to ski with friends and you'll be visiting a childhood friend, Spencer, in London. You're both anticipating a better season. The valets go to retrieve your cars, and you're both left standing on the sidewalk. It's a little humid, but not enough to make you want to blast the AC.

"Did you see George's post on Insta?" Lando asks after the silence has settled. Your face scrunches up, "Sorry?" You would've been fine to stay quiet until one of your cars arrived and you'd say goodbye. Lando had other plans, apparently.

"His post saying goodbye to Lewis. The last picture was nice, wasn't it?" You feel like there's something Lando's searching for but you can't put the pieces together. "I don't follow George on Insta. I— It's not like I don't like him, it's just. We're not really close?" Lando raises a brow, and it's not like when Max does it. It's something else, and you don't understand. You want to ask why, what he's thinking, but the valet parks your car in front of the sidewalk before you can.

Lando moves forward when the valet gets out, holding the driver's side door open for you. What is going on? You look at Lando, questions floating in your head and then hesitantly get into your car. "Have a nice off-season." Lando's grin is triumphant. Not like when he's at the top of a podium, something different and unfamiliar, yet kind.

"Yeah, thanks." Maybe you just don't know him well enough.

Lando double checks everything. He looks through his and George's mutuals and looks through the likes on George's end-of-season posts. He's never been more determined to prove Alex and George wrong. (And getting you and Max together, of course!)

Oscar looks at him weird 'cause he's grinning at his phone, then teases him, asks him if he's got a girlfriend. Lando laughs it off, because how is he supposed to say that he's investigating into some grid drama? That he's trying to understand what happened after Abu Dhabi, with you and Max? George has been ruled out as a player in this game, none of you are that close.

In London, you facetime your parents. They show you everything in their little villa that you rented out for them, the sandy beaches and the bright ocean. They tell you that they miss you and you repeat the sentiment. A part of you misses Max more, and you try to push that down.

Spencer orders pizza, and you both relax on the couch as you wait for it to arrive. They make a noise, a bit contemplative but unsurprised, and you look up from your own phone. Spencer's looking at you with a wolfish grin. "Oh, no."

"Have you seen this?" Their voice is teasing as they hand you their phone. It's opened to a post on the F1 Instagram account, the caption reads: Celebrating Max's 4th WDC with pictures of the best friendship on the grid 🏆. You gape slightly at the first picture; it's of you and Max in Zandvoort '23 on the podium. You both have bright smiles, your focus is on drenching Max with your champagne. He's laughing, accepting the spray. You don't bother to look at the rest, a sick feeling building in your stomach that you've begun to associate with Max. You know what it means, but you can't acknowledge it now. You haven't talked in over 2 weeks.

The pizza arrives and Spencer makes you pay. You can't get yourself to eat a lot, too stuck in your mind to acknowledge your hunger. When you lay in bed later that night, you feel sick. You know it's not the food, you know what it is. In the back of your mind you wonder if you'll ever be able to accept your feelings or if you'll just have to get over it.

lando norris has made a groupchat

monaco dinner 😁😁 (alex albon, george russell, max 🏆, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, oscar piastri, you)

lando norris

alright everyone. need to know when you're all returning to monaco

"You're up to something," Oscar says from beside Lando. Lando raises a brow, a teasing grin on his lips. "Whatever do you mean, Osc?" His teammate rolls his eyes before scanning the table, landing at the empty seat next to George. Everyone is here, except you. Lando pretended he got a text from you saying that you'd be late, when in reality that's not the case. He told you the reservation was for twenty minutes later than he told everyone else. His plan needed to work and he didn't want you arriving earlier than intended.

"Y/n, someone who is always scared of coming late they come fifteen minutes early, isn't here. I'm assuming you have nothing to do with this?" Lando's grin grows wider. "Mate."

"Just wait."

You arrive at the restaurant 5 minutes early, since you had to walk and that led you to being noticed by some fans. When you go up to reception and say who you'll be sitting with, the host raises a brow before directing you to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Everyone is already there, drinks on the table. Worried, you look at your watch to see it isn't even the time Lando sent. You're early.

The only seat open is at the end of the table, to the right of George. It's also right across from Max. He looks surprised to see you, putting away his phone as you sit down. George says hi and asks you how your break has been so far. You make pleasant, friendly conversation with him. When Charles asks you a question you turn your attention to him, and notice that Max's mood has visibly soured. He must notice you looking, because he inserts himself into Alex and Carlos' conversation. You bite your cheek, trying not to seem annoyed or disappointed. You still haven't talked, and it's been seven weeks. He's liked your posts; the one from your trip to London, a set of gym photos your team took, and your photos from your other trip. No comments, just likes.

He doesn't talk to you for the rest of the dinner, instead he watches you make conversation with your other drivers. You stumble over your words, make mistakes and try to laugh it off. It's nice to talk to them, it just requires more energy. With Max, you don't have to worry about your never-ending rambling or your stories that tend to not make sense. It's easy. You miss it.

Dinner ends, you all split the check and go your separate ways. After getting your card back you head to the bathroom, just standing in silence for a few seconds. You need a break, especially if you run into some fans on your way home. The more you talk and force your brain to try, the more exhausted you get. The easier it is to snap or say something completely wrong. No one deserves to be on the receiving end of that.

You scrub your hands over your face, trying to wake yourself up. In your pocket your phone buzzes once. Then twice.

max 🏆

Are you still here?

I didn't see you leave.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you make yourself type slowly. Your hands are shaking. You need to get a grip.

you

yeah, haven't left yet

you're still here then?

max 🏆

Yep. Meet you at the entrance?

you

sure

As you leave the bathroom your brain has fired up again, what the fuck, repeating in your head consistently. Because, what the fuck? Why has Max all of a sudden decided to talk to you? What changed his mind?

He's standing in the waiting area, his plain white t-shirt covered by a jacket you recognize from the Alphatauri website. The corner of your lip twitches, as you fight back a smile. He's so predictable.

"Hey." His voice is quiet, like he was scared that you were lying. Like you'd hide in the bathroom till he left. Even though you're mad at him, you can't see yourself doing that, ever.

"Hi. Um, nice break so far? We haven't talked a lot," You let out an awkward laugh, cringing internally. Why did you bring that up? And in the first sentence too?

"I'm sorry about that, I've been busy," Max's smile is weak and your heart deflates a bit because you know when he's lying. He doesn't do it often, so it's easy to tell. "I meant to text you, really." But that isn't a lie. Huh. You stare at him for a second trying to make sense of what's going on.

"Did you drive here?"

"No, didn't have time to get gas. I mean— I did, I just forgot because I've been doing other stuff." Max smiles and everything feels almost normal again. The seven weeks of silence still looms over the conversation, like it's preparing to end your friendship forever. "I'll drive you. You didn't move, right?" He has a smile on his face, the one when he's trying to be funny. You feel that sick feeling building, and your skin warms.

"No, I should though. Apparently my neighbor almost set the complex on fire, and the one across from me she— she did something weird, I can't remember. But I know it caused a meeting for the building about some policy and everyone was really mad at her," You ramble, voice picking up as you get that giddy feeling, when you know you're really being listened to. Max leads you to his car and you get into the passenger seat. On the drive to your building, you finally remember the reason why your neighbor got in trouble.

"She got in trouble because she had sex on her balcony or something, and then someone saw and reported it. Holy shit, I can't believe I forgot that!" You laugh, face scrunching with your smile.

"Your neighbor?"

"Yes!" It feels really good to talk to Max again, to feel a true connection when you talk to him.

lando norris

hey mate

how's y/n?

max

Good?

Do you not have her number?

lando norris

no haha sorry

thought you guys were dating

things seemed off just wanted to make sure

max

Right.

We're fine

lando norris

but not dating? (max has reacted with 👍)

Everything has been good with Max. It's like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders now that you can talk to him again. You flew with him to Bahrain and now Australia. Media day is tomorrow, and Lando has texted you asking if you want to go explore, like neither of you have ever been to Melbourne. You say yes, anyway.

You're in the elevator going down to the lobby, when it stops at another floor. George is standing on the other side of the doors, and he smiles at you as he walks in. "Hanging out with Max?" He asks as the doors slide shut.

"No, Lando invited me out. He said he wanted to explore, which I don't really understand because he's been to Melbourne multiple times. Also, Oscar's his teammate so, I don't—," You stop yourself. "It'll probably be fun though, it's Lando."

"Lando invited you out?"

"Uh— Yeah? Why?"

"He invited me out as well, that's all." Oh.

Is he trying to set you and George up? The thought hits you like a truck and your nose scrunches up involuntarily. First, the questions about his Instagram and then making you sit next to him at dinner. You feel warm, anger building inside you. Is Lando oblivious?

↳ user since when are they friends????

↳ user you left out the part that lando was with them 💀

You and George walk back together, an awkward silence hanging over you. It was a fun day. You took pictures, ate good food. You had fun. It was just awkward because it seemed both you and George knew what Lando was trying to do.

You're waiting for the elevator when George turns toward you. You shift your eyes toward him, trying to make sense about what he's about to do. "Do you like me?"

Your eyes widen and for a moment all you can do is stare at George. "No, I— I don't know where Lando got the idea that I like you, but I don't." You're trying to be nice in case George does actually like you, but he lets out a breath of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Lando is..."

"He's Lando, I know." The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. You both walk in and George hits the button for your floors. "You do like Max though, right?" Once again you find yourself speechless. George laughs, cheeks turning red.

"Sorry, it's— It's really obvious, I don't know how Lando missed it." You're burning with embarrassment when you look away from George and mutter, "It's not that obvious." He cracks up, and you feel yourself growing warmer.

Thankfully for you, George gets off soon enough and it's just you. When you step off the elevator, you notice someone leaning against the wall by your door, scrolling on their phone. They look up when you come to a stop. It's Max, in another plain t-shirt and skinny jeans. You may hate the skinny jeans but they really show off his thighs, so it's not that bad. "Hi."

Max walks over to you, stopping so there's only a few inches between you. You can smell his cologne, see how blue his eyes are, and how his hair is a little out of place. He opens his mouth to speak but you speak before he can. "You look good, I mean—," You cut yourself off to prevent the inevitable ramble about how good he looks; your friends have heard it numerous times. Max blinks, the beginning of a smile on his face before he leans in and kisses you.

You make a little noise in surprise before you reciprocate, you reach for him blindly, grabbing onto his shoulder. It's easy kissing Max. You've been waiting for this, the soft press of his lips against yours, the heat of his hand against your face. The same sick feeling rests in your stomach, and you feel it; the way your heart speeds up when he's near and the hot flush that builds on your skin when he touches you. You never want it to end.

yourusername close friends story

[caption: @.maxverstappen1 🤍]

view replies

lando OMG DID IT FINALLY HAPPEN??

yourusername yes...? lando oh thank god my plan worked i was so close to locking you two in a closet yourusername HUH????

[disneyprincemuke]

the grudge * fem!driver

it takes the whole village to make them realise that racing should not be coming between the friendship they spent years building

pairings: alex albon x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, lewis hamilton x fem!driver, nico rosberg x fem!driver

warnings: -

notes: hi there.

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

(prev)

the past couple of days have been empty. eerily lonely at times when she wakes up just to drag her feet downstairs of her parent’s home to get a meal by herself and make her way back up after. prior to their predicament, she had planned so many activities to do with logan over their week off.

she turns over when she wakes up, just like every other morning and picks up her phone. hoping, wishing, desperately waiting for a specific text message to dawn her. there are several other notifications but they just don’t seem to matter.

when will logan text, when will he apologise— more importantly, when can they be best friends again?

she misses him.

she’s wondered over the past few days since they fell out mid-race, how other people get through something like this. it’s never been a problem, not for them, because they made a promise.

sure, they were young, but it was easy to think that they would never let their careers get the better of them.

she remembers speaking in hushed whispers, as if it was a crime, promising one another that they would always be best friends no matter what. they would never let what happened to others happen to them.

she hasn’t spoken to oscar much either. she tries to lie to herself and say that he’s probably busy spending time with lily and his family, but a smaller part of her assumes that he’s pulling away because of logan. oscar tries to convince her and say that isn’t the case, but she’s slowly starting to believe her lie.

she lays awake for some time wondering if logan missed her the same, or if reaching out had ever crossed his mind. she can’t be the only one feeling this way, right?

her finger hovers over his caller id, going back and forth the decision of dropping him a call. but she is still insistent that she is not wrong. he clearly clipped her car, so why should she? everyone could see that but him.

it hurts, but it hurts more than when she would get into days-long arguments with oscar.

she hasn’t had her own share of a heartbreak, but somehow hurts in the way that some of her friends would describe it to her. it’s more than the pain you feel when you’re falling out with a best friend.

instead, she locks her phone and gets out of bed to start whatever is left of her day.

is this really how it’s going to be? losing his best friend over one crash out of the many others they’ve had since they met?

he stares at the ceiling with stubby resting his paws on his stomach, pondering if he truly is doing the right thing by holding out.

but every time he thinks of finally apologising, he remembers every other time that he had to put aside his pride just to keep her around. not that it truly ever mattered — their friendship always comes above all else — he just finds it incredibly unfair.

how about this once, she is the one who puts her pride aside to keep their friendship? does it really have to always be him?

then he starts to wonder if he is the only one who thinks of their friendship this way. maybe he’s the only one holding onto something that’s dwindled over the years; she has new friends anyway.

logan misses her. the apartment simply isn’t the same without him waking up to his door opened slightly after she borrowed one of his hoodies to wear for a walk, or the shrill baby voice she likes to use when talking to their pets, or the whining and pouting she gives him when she doesn’t want to go out by herself but refuses to ask him if he wants to come with her.

sometimes he misses her more than a best friend should. though, that’s not really the point.

it makes sense now to him how friends fall apart when they’re in the same sport. but even with just one example, there’s also another pair of best friends who seem closer than they were before.

now he is conflicted. none of it makes sense at all.

but only time can tell if he is doing the right thing. or, if she would even realise that their friendship should be greater than whatever the hell the situation is right now.

“you’re telling me that you and rocky have not spoken for an entire week?”

logan shrugs, “yeah, i guess.”

alex’s gaze follows logan as he walks across the room to take a seat, an eyebrow raising in confusion at his nonchalance. “and you don’t plan to?”

“not unless she reaches out first.”

logan lifts his gaze from his hands and meets alex’s eyes. alex doesn’t even know how to go about the situation anymore – it seems like he’s said everything he could say to logan to try and amend their friendship. yet, there’s still nothing he says that could convince him otherwise.

it would be a shame to see a friendship fall apart over a crash during a race.

not everyone can have what they have and maintain it for as long as they have. of course, he knows, he’s best friends with george.

a week into their 2-week break and she is holding out longer than he’s expected. he’s very apologetic for the fact that her car had spun and hit the wall, but it’s just unfair that he was expected to be the one apologising for the crash itself.

the crash was caused by 2 people, not just him. he’s sure there’s something there that she could have done better to avoid the accident.

“i’m heading out to grab lunch with george after this,” alex grins, “would you like to come with us?”

“sure.”

she swings her hand up to stop the man from opening his mouth to speak to her, the door in her other hand. “don’t tell me you’re here for what i think you’re here for.”

“i’m not?” george grins with hesitation, dropping the pint of ice cream he’d gotten to soften her up for the conversation he wants to have. “come on, you need to speak to logan.”

she sighs and rests her hands on her hips. “i know sebastian sent you.”

he presses his lips together. “no, he didn’t.”

“it’s because i’m ignoring his text messages,” she scowls. yet she still takes a step back and opens the door wider and gestures for him to come inside. “i’m not stupid.”

george walks in, handing her the pint of chocolate ice cream he’d picked up. “it’s not your favourite brand, but it’s still chocolate ice cream,” he mutters. he turns as she closes the front door and huffs. “you need to speak to logan before all of this gets out of hand too fast and you regret it.”

“does he regret sending me into the wall?” she raises an eyebrow. when george continues to stare at her, blinking blankly, she nods and turns on her heel to walk into the kitchen. “you know this wasn’t my fault — you saw the footage, george! that’s so unfair!”

he sighs. he’s never been in this situation with alex, but he can only imagine how his world would around if they were. sure, it’s hard to get past something like this, especially at the stage of their career, but he just isn’t sure how to help either.

yes, logan had been the one to close in on her on the track, but why couldn’t they just recognise they were both wrong one way or another?

“okay, fine. whatever,” george says exasperatedly. “actually, i’m here to ask if you wanted to get lunch with alex and i later.”

she raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “sure!”

“sorry,” george laughs airily, putting his phone face down on the table. he moves into the booth alongside the younger girl. “alex is running a little late.”

“that’s alright,” she mutters, reaching out for the menu. she opens the menu before it dawns on her.

she lowers her menu and turns stiffly to george who is reaching for his menu and takes his seat. “what?”

“why are you sitting next to me?” she raises an eyebrow and throws her head back slightly.

george puts a hand to his chest. “do you hate me?”

she shakes her head. “no! it’s not like that,” she scowls, “you always sit next to alex when we get lunch.”

he tilts his head and narrows his eyes as he pretends to think. “do i?” he scrunches his nose. “i don’t always sit next to him.”

but he knows that she poses an incredible point. he, however, hadn’t expected her to be so observant, as opposed to her typical carefree and non-analytical nature. perhaps this entire fallout has changed her slightly, especially without logan always next to her.

she hums without another word, confusion still written on her face, before she looks at her menu again.

she’s been to this restaurant numerous times since moving to london. it’s actually her favourite. a classic between her and logan, always making it out of their way to get food here when they’re back in town.

she doesn’t actually need the menu — she orders the same damn thing every time, swearing to herself that she will try something new her next visit. which she is something she abides by most times, always ordering a new side dish or by forcing logan to get something she wants but is too scared to try.

“i thought you would have memorised that menu front and back considering how much you come here,” george jokes, his eyes darting from his menu to the entrance of the restaurant.

he shakes his leg in anticipation, aimlessly flipping through the pages yet he still has not retained one dish in his head. it’s never going to work.

in the back of his head, he hears alex’s voice telling him again and again that it would.

“funny. that’s the same thing logan says whenever we eat here.”

truthfully, george hadn’t even brought logan up in the time they’ve been together. he’s pleasantly surprised that she was the first to address him again after their initial conversation at her parents’ front door.

“does he?” george grins slightly.

“yeah,” she lifts her head, lips pursed together as she stares into the distance, “i always make him order something new that i could try because i’m too scared it won’t be to my liking.”

he’s surprised. he didn’t think logan could come up in such a peaceful topic at this time of day. he thought that she would keep it hostile even when speaking of him.

“that’s very thoughtful."

she grins. “yes, i guess he is a very thoughtful guy.”

george sits up and adjusts the sleeves of his sweatshirt. he clears his throat. “speaking of logan-”

“no.”

“what?” he cried incredulously with a hand in the air. “you brought him up first!”

“no.”

“fine.”

oh, they’re not going to eat at her favourite restaurant, are they? logan furrows his eyebrows as he’s led forward by alex and he increasingly gets more nervous as they get closer.

spending this much time away from her has made her miss her so much. he’s almost afraid that it might really be the end of their friendship at all.

he’s never eaten here without her. he acts annoyed all the time when she forces him to try a new dish every visit while she has the luxury of sticking to her comfort food, but truthfully, he finds himself searching for her voice in the silence.

can he really have a meal without her at her favourite restaurant? surely not. yet he follows alex inside without another word. he nervously looks around, finding remnants of all the meals he’s had with her here.

he sees george in the far corner of the restaurant, lifting his arm to wave at logan with a small grin. alex abruptly stops walking that makes logan halt before he can run into his back.

the expression on alex’s face is something logan has only seen a couple of times on the older guy. the thai sucks in a deep breath and holds his hands up in the air, “don’t be mad.”

logan raises an eyebrow. “why would i be mad?” he tilts his head as he tries to come up with a reason that assumption would come up. “it’s just a restaurant, i can eat here without rocky.”

“yeah,” alex nods with his lips pressed together. “that’s the thing.”

just then, a shrill and disgusted ‘what’ throws the relaxing aura of the restaurant off.

he knows that voice anywhere. he swears he is haunted by that scream in his sleep when he’s done something he shouldn’t have and is trying to keep a secret.

a head pops out of the plants in the divider. she turns her head and finds logan, standing in the middle of the restaurant just as shell-shocked.

so to hell with their argument, right? he should just apologise and get it done and over with then he can get his best friend back. and all will be right in the world.

logan swears that her gaze softened when she saw him standing there. he has to reason out with himself not to run over and pull her into the tightest hug he’s ever trapped her in. a lot has happened in the past week, and every time he thinks of reaching out, he hesitates.

in hindsight, why does he hesitate? this is literally his best friend in the whole world.

and she swears she will jump over this damned divider to get to logan. should she punch him or jump into his arms for a hug? this might be the longest she hasn’t seen the boy and the feeling of familiarity washes over her in relief.

“logan,” she says his name in a soft and airy sigh. the corners of her lips curl into a small smile as her shoulders drop from their tense position. “hi.”

“hi.”

his heart starts beating faster when she pushes past george to get out of the booth. alex jogs to where george stands, cozying up next to his best friend as they watch the scene unfold. they’ve never tried to parent-trap anyone into reconciliation before. this is a first and if they succeed, they would never shut up about it.

she walks over to him, smile still intact with her back straight. she stops right in front of him and her hands clasped in front of her.

her smile grows and she takes another breath. she can’t seem to find the right words to say to him now that he’s finally in front of her. “hi.”

logan grins, “it’s nice to finally see you again. i missed you.”

“i missed you too.” she presses her lips together and glances down at her feet momentarily. she raises her gaze again.

when george had finally told her logan was joining them for lunch, a million things ran through her mind. half of her thoughts wanted to start fighting all over again but the latter just wanted to sit down in silence and make up for all of the time they’d lost.

“did we really get ambushed by alex and george?” she snorts softly, looking over her shoulder where they stand with one another, staring intensely at them.

logan grins with a small nod. “i’m surprised they pulled it off, really.”

silence looms over them once again — the implications of the crash threatens another fight. logan’s heart starts beating faster as he remembers again why exactly he’s very persistent on getting an apology. just an apology, that’s all he’s asking for.

there is simply so much more to it than just the younger girl putting her pride aside over the crash. sure, whatever, he can come out and admit that it was ultimately because of a mistake from him on the track. what he can’t accept is the girl's unwillingness to initiate reconciliation.

does she truly care so little for him to be a part of his life?

“let’s go and get lunch,” she says, beckoning him forward to where alex and george are. she takes a couple of steps away. “i was really sad at the thought of eating here without you.”

“is that all you have to say?” logan raises an eyebrow. he stays planted where he stands. she whirls around in confusion. “we haven’t talked the longest in our lives and you’re just going to invite me to the table and act like we didn’t just have a fight?”

she presses his lips together and clenches her jaw. “if anything, you’re the one ignoring it — you caused the crash, remember?”

logan scoffs. how shallow. “oh, get over the crash already! you seriously don’t even see why this entire thing is an issue? are you seriously so stupid?”

“we were so close,” george mutters in a soft sigh. “why are they stupid?”

“i wish i knew.” alex purses his lips together before he steps away from the table. he clasps his hands together and steps in between the two, just as she took a step forward to answer logan. he holds his arms out to her to keep her distance from logan. “okay, i see it’s still too soon.”

“it wouldn’t be too soon if she could just realise how insensitive she’s being!” logan scoffs softly, pointing an accusatory finger at the girl. he’s fully aware of the eyes watching them in the restaurant. “i know racing is everything to you, but i swear if you keep acting like this, you’re going to lose every single person you love.”

she scoffs, taking a step back. her eyes start to glisten, making logan start to feel bad. “of course, it’s everything to me, i dedicated my entire life to get where i am.”

“yeah, so much so that you’re willing to burn bridges to stay where you are.” logan turns on his heel. “i will have lunch at home instead, alex. thanks for inviting me out.”

“if you missed her and she missed you, what’s the problem?” oscar turns the seat around to face logan. “good on alex and george for trying to get you guys back together while i was gone. i really thought all this would blow over by now.”

logan shrugs. he turns his phone over and over on his stomach, swaying back and forth. “you don’t understand. she’s changed.”

“you keep saying that, mate,” oscar sighs tiredly. he throws himself back into his seat. “i still don’t know what you mean.”

logan feels a little silly. saying it out loud suddenly feels so superficial and overtly sensitive. “it’s stupid.”

“well, if you’re letting this fight drag out this long, there has to be a reason behind it.” oscar smiles slightly and nods at him, truly curious as to why all of this has blown so out of proportion. “what is it?”

“when we crashed, we both got out of the car,” logan starts slowly, nitpicking his choice of words for the fear of sounding a little too unreasonable, “she never asked me if i was okay. it was a pretty nasty crash for both of us.”

that’s it, really. that’s his only problem with it — she had never asked, not once, if he was okay. she’d just started getting angry, which was understandable, but it never really hit him why he was feeling so sad until he started getting examined for his injuries a while later. he’s personally curious if she was feeling better, but she still hadn’t asked him yet.

which kind of sucks because he’s starting to feel like he cares more for her than she does for him.

“oh, i see.” oscar sits up. “okay, i totally get it. i’ll speak with her.”

logan shakes his head, “you don’t have to. if she doesn’t realise it on her own, what does it really say about her, you know?”

“i know, but i’ll try talking to her first.”

so oscar doesn’t exactly talk to her himself. truth is he can’t bring himself to be the one to speak with her about logan; he just knows he can’t pick a side. whatever she says, he’ll be trying to defend both sides and they’ll never get anywhere with it.

so, he asked if sebastian would speak with her. even then, sebastian hadn’t dared to speak with her about this. he would be able to have conversations with her about anything except this.

he just knows what she would throw back in his face so he already knew immediately that he shouldn’t be the one to.

so he went to the next best pairing who could potentially fix it.

the young girl gapes up at the duo towering over her as she sinks into the couch. she’s suddenly felt so small, a contrast to her initial bratty attitude from being interrupted from her lunch.

“what are you guys doing here?” she blinks. “why are you even together here?”

“what do you mean?” nico tilts his head. “don’t you like me? i thought you liked me? you said you like my presence.”

she furrows her eyebrows. none of this makes sense unless there’s something she’s failed to connect. “i do, but like… why are you here in front of me?”

“we just wanna talk,” lewis grins, folding his arms over his chest. “we need to talk to you.”

her confusion slowly contorts into something of suspicion. a scowl carves her lips as her eyes narrow into a glare. “seb sent you, didn’t he? this is about logan?”

“i told you she’s smarter than to fall for the excuse that we’re here just to spend time with her,” nico points out, turning to lewis. “she’s a degree holder, of course, she will see right through us.”

“and i said it doesn’t matter if she does. we just need to get the message across,” lewis rambles at nico before he turns to the girl. “i’ll keep it simple.”

she looks up, uninterested, sinking back into the couch with her arms folded over her chest. “okay. try and change my mind.”

“is logan your best friend or not?”

she presses her lips together. “yes, he is. or at least he used to be.”

“do you love him or not?”

she doesn’t answer. what does he mean by that? is there an agenda to this that she hadn’t anticipated for? is she really that obvious?

“what does that mean?” nico whispers. “you hate him or what?”

lewis rolls his eyes. “as a best friend. i don’t care if you’re in love with him, rocky. that’s not what we’re here for.”

she looks away momentarily. “yes, i love him as a best friend. what the hell does that have to do with anything? i’m sure he loves me too yet he doesn’t want to apologise.”

“is this racing thing seriously so much more important than keeping your best friend in your life, though?” nico smiles. hopefully, that gets through to her.

she scowls, “i don’t know — you tell me.”

“rocky.”

“it’s a genuine question, lewis.”

“this isn’t about us.”

“it can be if you want.”

“stop diverting!” nico yelps. “listen, okay, if you don’t fix this, you’ll need to live with yourself losing your best friend over one crash! not just for the time being, rocky, forever! for the rest of your life! can you really live with that?”

“maybe.”

“take me seriously!” nico stomps a foot on the ground. “he’s not going to leave the grid. can you really live coming into the paddocks on weekends all by yourself? no logan to carry your bags, no logan to giggle with when you want to, no logan to have meals with, no logan to come home to in your shared apartment with your pets. really?”

she sucks in a deep and shaky breath. she can’t. she really can’t see living the rest of her life out without logan around to annoy and cry to.

the past couple of days holding out from speaking to logan has been so difficult but can’t really get herself to admit to it. she can’t see herself winning any more races in the season and not leaving to celebrate with him, or flying back after race weekends to relax in their apartment with a bottle of wine.

lewis huffs. “you maybe need to be the one to swallow your pride if you don’t want to lose this friendship.”

“and i heard from the grapevine that you still haven’t ask logan if he’s okay.” nico looks away and innocently tries looking around the room to avoid her gaze. “his crash was pretty bad, you know. he had a concussion too.”

“did he?” she asks, her tone a little more gentle and her voice softer. “is he okay now?”

lewis shrugs. “go and ask him yourself.”

she stands up and brushes her pants. “you’re right. get out of my way, i’m going to apologise to my best friend.”

she pushes past both of the older men and grabs her car keys from the table by the door. she halts right before she makes it out of the room and turns. “thank you. i really appreciate this. i can’t imagine what it took you guys to get together just to put some sense into my head.”

she steps out. “maybe when logan and i make up, i could take some sense into you!”

logan expected it to come in the form of a short phone call, maybe a long text message. not for her to show back up at their apartment with takeout in her hands and a small grin.

“what?”

“can i come in?” she grins hopefully, peeking into the apartment. “i brought us takeout from our favourite place.”

logan steps aside and opens the door wider. “why are you asking me for permission? this is your apartment.”

“i know,” she sighs as she steps in to take off her shoes.

logan closes the door behind her and he puts his hands into his pockets. it’s still very nice to see her and he’s genuinely missed her more than ever.

distance makes the heart grow fonder or something like that.

he waits for her to start up a conversation. when they stand in silence, him staring at her back as she slowly takes off her jacket, he attempts to walk past her. he was watching a movie with stubby after all.

“how are you feeling?” she suddenly asks, stopping logan right behind her in the very cramp entryway into their apartment. she stands up straighter and turns around, attempting to make a step back when she realises their proximity. “i heard you got a concussion too.”

he can’t help but smile slightly. so that’s what she’s here for.

finally.

“i’m feeling alright. just whiplash and muscle pain, nothing new,” he admits softly. “what about you?”

she grins. “i’m feeling okay,” she mutters. “i’m sorry i didn’t ask if you were okay. you must have felt like i didn’t care about you at all.”

“you didn’t get your podium because of me. i’m sorry too,” logan puts a hand on her shoulder and shakes her slightly, “it was in the heat of the moment. sucks that it took you this long to realise though.”

“are we best friends again? i got us food.” she raises the bag of takeout with a giggle and a feeling of warmth in her chest. “we didn’t get to eat the other day, after all.”

“of course, you’re my best friend, you idiot.” logan throws an arm over her shoulders as they walk into the apartment. he ruffles her hair from the top of her head and smacks it gently. “let’s not fight about something like that ever again.”

“well, don’t crash into me again when i’m fighting for a podium.”

“seriously?”

“okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make that joke again in 3 weeks maybe.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @ironmaiden1313 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @c-losur3 @notawc @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @a-disturbing-self-reflection @mclarengf @xoscar03 @nomie-11 @green-thots @tinyhrry @iwilleatyourgod @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

[maeedrg]

What are we ?

part 2

fake dating trope Gojo X fem reader

ᯓ★

MASTERLIST of the series

part 1 part 2

Synopsis : Now everyone thinks you are dating the great Gojo Satoru. You are sent on a mission with him in the mountains, and realize that it’s actually a sweet honey trap made by the elders to hope you will come back with a ring on your finger, or a possible heir. What is wrong with them ?! And what is wrong with this sexual tension ? He is your best friend, for fuck’s sake !

Words count : 7.6k.

Warnings : fluff, romantic comedy, blood, sexual tension, slight smut, some dry humping (kinda), slight angst.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : I’m back with part 2 !!! I wrote it in less than a week after the part 1, I hope the part 3 will be out soon as well. Enjoy <3

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Against your will, Satoru and you were stuck playing pretend. Being his fake girlfriend for one night, became for another day, and then a week, and then already two weeks. Since the gathering, the gossip went faster than you thought, and quickly EVERYONE in the jujutsu society knew that The Strongest had a partner, to the point that even your own students were curious about it. Hearing Nobara saying she couldn’t believe that someone would ever want to date her obnoxious professor was somewhat funny, and embarrassing at the same time.

Because now, you have to lie to their face, and the worst is that Satoru was amused, and actually took pleasure in these shenanigans. He claps his hand with yours, kissing it in front of a disgusted Megumi, a shocked Nobara and an impressed Yuji.

“Is he even treating you well, L/n ? Blink twice if you are dating Gojo against your will !” exclaims Megumi, stepping closer, meanwhile Yuji tries to muffle his laughter.

You look at the teenager, and intend to not smile at his panicked expression. If the poor boy knew… You agreed, but didn't expect that dating Gojo would last more than a night. He wasn’t even your real boyfriend. So, deciding to tease the white haired professor, you blink. One, twice, and Megumi gasps loudly.

“I knew it !” he says glaring at your supposed abuser, but Gojo puts his hand over your eyes to stop you from blinking again, bringing you against him.

“Hey, she’s lying ! Y/n, don’t be mean like that…” whines the so-called Strongest, and you squirm, laughing.

“Professor, I believe you ! You both look very much in love !” insists Yuji innocently, and you can’t help but flutter at him saying that. You couldn’t see the facial expression Satoru did, his hand still covering your eyes. But you wondered if the pink haired student said that because you both acted well in front of everyone, or if because your real feelings were slowly showing a bit too much. Fuck, you thought you weren’t obvious. You hoped Satoru only saw it as you being good at pretending, and nothing more.

“Well, I know she is head over heels. I mean, who wouldn’t ?” Gojo scoffs playfully, being fakely arrogant in his tone of voice.

“You say that, but you are the one that admitted you had a crush on y/n since you were 15,” adds Nobara, but the moment she started her sentence, the hands of Satoru left your eyes to instead cover your ears. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the chance to hear what the brown haired one said.

“Uh ?” you mutter, confused, and Satoru looks down at you with rosy cheeks, shaking his head.

“Your amazing professors need to go now, kiddos. We have a train to take, so get up, go study or something !” exclaims Satoru, freeing your audition and sliding his arm around your shoulders to make you follow him. They all grumble before saying goodbye, and you wave at them as well. Indeed, you had an unexpected mission with Satoru to attend to. One that was located 3 hours away by bullet train from Tokyo. The higher ups were sudden when ordering the two of you to go there, resulting in having to stay sleeping at the location in a hotel. Not that it bothered you, just that it strangely was… out of nowhere. 

“Kids these days…” he sighs, and you glare at Satoru, side-eying him. He looks back at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Ok, you grandpa. And why did you stop me from hearing what Nobara said ? If she said something embarrassing about you that I don’t know, then well… I want to know !” you protest, and he looks away sheepishly, which makes you frown at his unexpected behavior.

“Ahahahah…. nahhhh. Nothing, don’t worry about that,” he replies, acting nonchalant and shrugging off what happened as if it was nothing special or interesting. 

“Satoru, don’t bullshit me,” you sigh, getting even more curious now as you lean closer to him. But he keeps a poker face, before sliding his sleeve and looking at his expensive watch.

“Oh my god, look at the time ! Quick, we’ll be late at the train station !” he says panicked, but you knew better than to believe him, because last time you checked, you still had 2 hours before you. Yet, he doesn’t let you really protest as he grabs you again, and makes you dash with him in the corridor of the campus.

“Hey, we aren’t even late !”

“Time is just an illusionnnn !” he answers with what looks like a mysterious voice.

“This doesn’t even make any sense !” you retort, exasperated.

Satoru dragged you with him, forcing you to run, get your bag and rush towards the car of Ijichi, the poor black haired man startled to see the two of you dash in his direction. It didn’t take longer than two minutes for the car to rumble and then it engaged in the road. 

Once you arrive at the station, finding where your train was located and then entering it, sitting down after putting both of your bags with your necessities for the night in the right compartment, you can finally breathe. Satoru and you were alone in the wagon of the bullet train, but too shaken from this supposed race against time, you don’t question it more. You sigh deeply, looking at the sun setting and then at the person sitting next to you. His long legs were kind of cramped, so you somewhat feel bad for him.

“So it’s some upper grades in the mountains ? Maybe once we arrive at the hotel, even if it will be already late, we should go see around the forest to do some scouting,” you propose, breaking the silence as Satoru turns his face to look down at yours.

“Agreed, but believe me, this mission will go quicker than you think,” he affirms confidently, shrugging before taking off some candies from his bag and opening it, munching on one.

“Why are you so sure about it ?” you ask as he gives you some candies as well that you gladly accept and eat. Oh, way too sweet… Satoru looks at you and even if his blindfold is covering his eyes, you see how his facial expression changes.

“Y/n, be for real. The higher ups are sending us together to this mission on purpose. Now that they think we are dating, they have a new goal in mind,” he explains as if it was logical, and you swallow before dusting your hands from the sugar.

“Which is ?” you pressure him to elaborate more on the matter, not sure about what he was implying. 

“Probably making us have babies as fast as possible, since they think I’m some kind of dog ready to breed,” he spats, rolling his eyes and munching more aggressively on the candy. You almost choke on your saliva.

“What the hell- and how can they even plot this when sending us to fight some curses ?” you answer, not believing it. After what happened at the gathering two weeks ago, you quickly understood the expectations the elders had for Gojo. Some of them are marriage and heirs. But here it was backfiring on you. At first, you thought they would stop pestering him with questions of arranged marriage. They did stop, nonetheless it’s a matter of you now ! You just were supposed to act like his girlfriend for one night, not to be questioned about becoming his wife and starting a family !

“Did you even check the location of the hotel ?” he asks, turning more on his seat to face you better.

“I did, so what ?”

“There is an onsen, many places to sightsee, and overall, it’s a touristic place that a lot of newlyweds go to for their honeymoon. Very romantic, if you know what I mean. So they basically send us on a date to hope for something to happen,” he explains, looking at you before trailing his gaze on the window.

“Are they serious right now ?” you question deadpan. 

“Yep. I mean, it’s nothing cute. They don’t care if we enjoy it or not, they just hope that you either come back with a ring on your finger, or pregnant,” he sighs, shrugging. You don’t answer, your eyes not leaving him as you assimilate what he just said.

No way, no fucking way… Do they really want this ? First of all, Satoru is not even your boyfriend, so this situation was way more embarrassing. But even if he was, that still was wrong. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that ! I didn’t choose it either,” he whines, defending himself as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“God… why is their mindset so old fashioned ?!” you groan, taking your face in your hands, exasperated.

“Y/n, don’t worry. We deal with the curses and just enjoy the place like some free weekend, or some break from their annoying faces, yeah ?” he proposes, his hand gently ruffling your hair to sooth you down and lighten the mood.

“Alright, I wanted to relax anyway, so this is good, I guess,” you finish to answer, trying to stay positive. Satoru smiles at you, and like that, the train starts to move.

You were stuck here for three hours. Either you were listening to the yap of Satoru, or you were laughing with him. Yet, you grew tired. Today was a long day, and the night was already up in the sky. You lay more comfortably against your seat, and plug on your earphones. You decide to listen to some music, and Satoru notices that. He doesn’t even need to ask, you already are offering him one of your earphones. He grins and puts it on his ear. As the song starts, you look at the scenery.

Your eyelids grow heavy, and Gojo looks at you, before softly pressing your head against his shoulder. You relax, feeling more at ease in this position, and close your eyes. The movement of the train lulls you to sleep, and Satoru takes your phone, knowing the password, and changes the playlist to something more calm.

He stares at you as you soon fall asleep, and gently, the back of his fingers caress your cheek. He smiles to himself, taking his own phone carefully to not wake you up, and then he snaps a picture. Here it goes in his gallery and folder of pics he has with you for years. Something he valued to keep, and enjoyed looking at whenever he was feeling lonely, far away on a mission overseas.

It would be a lie to say that Satoru wasn’t excited at the idea of this mission, curious to see how it will unfold. Yeah, curious, that’s what he told himself.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

As you arrived, the first thing you both did was to register in the hotel. A reservation was already made, and you look around the luxurious place while walking inside the elevator. Satoru leans against the wall, looking down at you.

“What do you think the room will look like ? There is only one bed, you know,” he starts to ask, taping his finger against his bicep when crossing his arms.

“We sleep in the same bed everytime we hangout, don’t make a big deal out of it,” you shake your head, too tired to indulge his weird antics for the rest of the evening. After all, last time, you both ended up sleeping in a hotel room, and Satoru even had to give you his shirt so you wouldn’t be butt naked. The aftermath of the hangover was special… but you were used to chaos with him. 

“You’re no fun, come on, I’m sure the room will be decorated with roses and shit,” he taunts you, getting closer as he balances himself on his other leg. You look at him through the mirror.

“No, they will not go that far,” you chuckle nervously, and now, he stands behind you, looking at you too through the mirror. 

“Well, if the reservation is made under the idea of us being newlyweds…” he muses playfully.

“We don’t even have rings on our fingers !” you reply, and the doors of the elevator open. Satoru steps back, you follow suit and roam through the corridor.

“You think they care ?” he scoffs, taking the keys they gave you earlier, and he slowly opens the door of your assigned room. You enter first, searching for the light.

“Well, it’s just some logic- oh lord,” you cut yourself the moment you manage to illuminate the room. Eyes wide open, you stare at a big king sized bed with flowers creating a heart on the sheets, and some romantic decorations in the spacious place, on the walls, the floor, etc.

“Told ya, sweetheart,” whispers Satoru smugly in your ear. You shiver head to toe and enter quickly, looking around dumbfounded. He takes off his blindfold to look around better. 

“What the fuck ?” you say, narrowing your eyes and not believing what you were seeing. You laugh, taking some of the flowers in your hands. You feel bad that they took the time to arrange a romantic room, all that to not be used in the end. You would lie too if you didn’t feel flustered at the idea of actually doing something with Satoru. No, you should snap out of it.

“Fuck is the right word to say,” jokes your best friend, walking around and then stepping in the corridor of the room to see where it leads.

“I’m not having sex with you on this bed, Satoru,” you correct, looking at him entering somewhere and turning on the lights.

“Why not in the bathroom ? Check it out !” his face pops and then he disappears again in the so-called bathroom. You follow him and open wide your mouth when seeing again flowers scattered on the floor, with a whole jacuzzi next to the shower, and bottles of alcohol in a bucket beside it, with many candles ready to be lit.

“A jacuzzi ? Wine ?!” you almost scream of surprise.

“So, maybe we should fuck. I mean, the atmosphere is perfect,” he trails, lifting his blindfold to give you a seductive glance, even winking at you. And oh, the butterflies in your stomach start to move again, moving quite a lot actually. You roll your eyes, ignoring this growing feeling inside your gut, and he steps closer.

“What ? We already made out, this is the natural next step-,” he starts, before you slap the back of his head, “ouch ! I’m just joking with you ! Can’t even recognize the teasing of your own best friend !” he whines, pouting, and massaging his nape. Of course, it didn’t hurt, he just wanted to make you feel bad.

“I can’t know if you are really joking because you tend to sometimes be serious, like last time at the gathering,” you say as you step out of the bathroom, continuing to inspect the place. You wouldn’t be surprised if you saw sextoys somewhere in the drawers. At this rate, nothing could surprise you anymore.

“You accepted to make out with me,” he justifies, behind you.

“But at first you were joking about it, and it came true. So just in case, I’m not letting you joke about fucking. Annnd, I will not let you touch one drop of wine. You lightweight ass will not handle it,” you warn as you sit down on the bed, and notice how comfy it was just by taking a seat on it. At least, you will sleep well.

“Fine, fine, geez ! Then you don’t drink any drop of wine too,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why ? I hold well my liquor,” you defend yourself, frowning.

“And what if you end up drunk and jump on me trying to take off my clothes ? I’m innocent, you know ?” he scoffs, putting his hands in front of his torso as if he was shy, and you can’t help but laugh. His smile grows wider when he sees you enjoying his joke.

“Ah yes, very innocent… Alright, I won’t touch it too. But I will be bringing it home, it looks expensive and it would be a waste to not open the bottle,” you shrug, grinning slightly. Maybe you’ll share it with Shoko.

“You do as you please. Come on, let's check the forest before it’s too late, I’m starving and I don’t want to take too long,” he ends up saying as he grabs your hand to make you stand up, impatient, as he puts back his blindfold on.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You roam through the big trees, in alert, trying to sense any type of curses that could be lurking around the forest. Each time you breathe, some fog is created because of the cold weather, in contrast with your warm mouth. Satoru was some meters behind, using his Six Eyes to spot any danger, and even levitating above the mountains to have a better vision of the environment. You reach the top of the hill, the wind caressing your skin. You stop walking, the sound of the snow cracking under your feet dying in the silence.

It was oddly calm, and as you raise your head to see where Gojo was, you end up impressed by the galaxy above your head embracing the sky. Your gaze lightens, staring at the infinity of the stars, murmuring a tiny ‘woaw’ to yourself. It truly was a sight to see, a beautiful piece of nature. You understood better why some people had their honeymoon taking place here.

“We can see the sky perfectly clear, here,” says Satoru, suddenly appearing next to you, hands in his pocket and his blindfold down his collar to allow his eyes to be out. You gaze at him, his hair slowly moving from the wind. He stares at the emptiness of the sky and the horizon, and you can’t help but feel some melancholia and loneliness emanating from him.

“You’re here… yeah, it’s amazing,” you answer softly, still bewitched by the stars.

“Did you sense anything ?” he asks, stepping now in front of you, the moon illuminating his white hair. It should be illegal how ethereal he is. 

“Nope, only animals. And you ?” You shrug.

“It was faint, so hard to know exactly where,” he explains vaguely.

“Are the curses hiding from us ?” you joke, turning slightly to look behind, but there is nothing in the darkness of the night. Only the moon reflects on the snow, illuminating the area.

“They should be. I would be scared too, if I was them,” he teases arrogantly, and you turn back towards him wiggling your eyebrows.

“They should shake in front of us !” you exclaim, intimidating, and he explodes of laughter, you too. After some seconds, your laughs die down slowly, and you take a deep breath, smiling. It wasn’t going so bad for now, you thought. Satoru quietly stares at you, his eyes twinkling with something intimate and what seems like vulnerability.

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it ?” he murmurs oh so gently, his gaze never leaving your face as if he simply couldn’t look away. You look into his irises, not answering for a second as you are caught back by his saying. You then lift your head, and look at the moon above the two of you. Your lips stretch in a soft smile, and your eyes fall back on Satoru.

“Very beautiful,” you insist in a sweet voice.

But then, a strong presence makes itself known, and two curses appear from the sky, rushing towards the two of you. You directly step back, in a fighting stance, your back pressed against the one of Satoru to have a peripheral view of the new opponents. You groan, ready to strike.

“Oh, we have some company. Interrupting our date like that, man… read the room, damn !” whines Satoru, a cocky smile stretching his lips, before easily avoiding an attack. You don’t wait any second longer and rush towards the curse in front of you and activate your cursed energy.

It dashes on the side but you follow suit. In the background, you hear Satoru fighting as well, and from what you can understand, he’s toying with his enemy, surely bored even though it was a grade 1 curse. You rolled your eyes, used of his antics during battles, and threw a cursed punch to the jaw of your own opponent. It screams and falls back on the ground, blood splashed everywhere on the once white snow -now an ugly green- as it struggles to stand back up. You decide to achieve it in one last blow, panting. Suddenly, it’s gone. You turn around, catching back your breath to see if Satoru was alright. But then you notice the curse attacking him from behind. As a reflex for his safety, you scream :  

“Look out !” Satoru grins and before you can even blink, the curse just exploded from the technique of your best friend. You step back, the blow creating a strong wind than then dies down as quickly as it came.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he chuckles, saying it as if it was even stupid of you to dare worry for him in a battle. You don’t mention his arrogant tone, dusting your hands as he steps towards you.

“Well, that was way too quick…” you whisper. He stands in front of you, using his thumb to wipe some blood from your cheek. You look intently at him, the softness of his gesture in duality with the gruesome liquid he just took off.

“Don’t say that too fast,” he taunts, his smile growing wider.

“What do you mea-” you get interrupted by his arm swinging around you, and suddenly pressing your body against his. His hand is quickly on the back of your head to protect it. At the same moment, he raises his other fingers, and you can only sense the presence of a third curse jumping towards you from behind, soon getting annihilated by the red of Gojo.

Once it’s gone, you feel your heart beating fast in your throat, staying like that against the white haired male. You didn’t dare to move, still surprised from what happened, and surely because you didn’t want to step away from him.

“Thank you,” you end up whispering, before feeling his fingers caressing the sides of your face tenderly.

“Be more careful next time, y/n,” he says, more serious than usual. A facial expression that you weren’t used to see on him.

“You’re right,” you sigh, looking up at his eyes. His seriousness disappeared, now a fat grin is plastered on his handsome face.

“Our mission is done. Let’s go enjoy this arranged date, what do you think ?” he proposes, his thumb sliding down your neck, a lingering trail of fire on your skin, before he steps back.

“Dinner would be nice,” you accept, following him as he walks back down the hill. 

“You read my mind. I could eat for ten !” he exclaims hungrily, and as if the world heard him, his stomach growls of hunger. You chuckle at the sound, thinking it was cute.

“The restaurant of the hotel looked good,” you shrug, and he swings his arm around your shoulder to bring you centimeters closer so he could share some warmth with you in this snowy forest.

“As long as I can eat, I’ll go anywhere,” he comments, winking at you.

“Then let’s go, I’m starving too” you finish.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Eating at the restaurant felt like a blessing to your starved bodies. Least to say, Satoru did eat for ten. Not to add the desserts he ordered. Long used to his appetite of an ogre, you didn’t comment and enjoyed watching him eat easily pounds of food. Obviously, Satoru being Satoru, he insisted on acting like boyfriend and girlfriend even though the two of you were far away from the elders. His reason why : who knows, maybe they are secretly watching ? Yeah, right. You didn’t buy any of that, and ended up having to spoon feed him his dessert, and let him spoon feed yours, or else he’ll throw a tantrum. A damn tantrum at his old age.

Exhausted, the two of you came back to the hotel room. Nothing changed since you left : the romantic atmosphere was still present. As you both wash your hands in the sink of the bathroom, you look at the jacuzzi. You already were picturing yourself relaxing in it, surrounded by hot water and warm bubbles. Some wine in your hand would be good too. No, wait. No wine. The both of you agreed on that earlier. Seeing you eying down the tube, Satoru leans on the sink once his hands are dried.

“Should we try the jacuzzi ?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing at it, doing a motion with his chin to show the tube.

“We ?” you ask, drying your hands on a towel, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you and me. Who else ? Santa ?” he mocks, rolling his eyes. You huff at his teasing.

“I got it the first time. I mean, we’ll enjoy the jacuzzi, but not at the same time,” you explain yourself, more slowly, to emphasize what you mean as you look at Satoru to make sure it’s what you were thinking about. But the grin on his face says otherwise.

“No, at the same time,” he corrects.

“I don’t have a swimsuit,” you retort.

“Me neither,” he adds, shrugging, not caring about this issue.

“I will not go naked with you in the jacuzzi, Satoru,” you shake your head, warning him. Your best friend could be bold with his requests sometimes.

“Why not ?” he asks as if it was a genuine logical question.

“Seriously ? I don’t want to see your dick !” you exclaim, getting flustered. I mean, you did want to see his dick. But, not like that, in this situation. It would be too embarrassing. It was better if it only stayed as a fantasie of yours, anyway.

“Hey, you just hurt it’s ego !” He points, faking hurt as he puts his hand over his chest like he got damaged.

“Poor guy. Well, I’m not flashing you my coochie,” you laugh nervously when answering.

“I won’t mind-” you cut him off by giving him a warning glare. He flashes you a fake apologetic smile.

“Sorry. I mean, if you want I can put on my blindfold. I only can see cursed energy with it, no flesh or bones. Like that I would respect your privacy,” he suggests, stepping closer towards you, leaving the sink. You look at him approaching you.

“But on the contrary I would be seeing you naked,” you add, narrowing your eyes and staying straight on your feet when he looms over you. Why did he have to be so tall ? Damn.

“I don’t mind, you can look. I have nothing to hide from you.” He flashes you his playful smirk, showing his white teeth.

“You are shameless,” you sigh, shaking your head. 

“Ok, so what about our underwear ? No, wait, it’s gross, they are dirty… hum, then.. We are naked, buuuuut, we wrap a clean towel around our bodies, and go inside the jacuzzi with it. It will not be very comfortable, but better than nothing. What do you think ?” he ends up asking, tilting his head to the side. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking about it, hard. You would lie if you said that you didn’t want to try the jacuzzi with Satoru. And this idea of the towel wasn’t so bad. You take a deep breath before nodding slowly.

“That’s actually not a bad idea…”

“Perfect ! Then let’s go,” he muses happily, beaming at the idea as he suddenly throws over his shoulders his shirt, revealing his toned torso. Quickly, his hands are on his belt that he swiftly takes it off, and you turn away as you grab a random white towel and rush out of the bathroom.

“Wait, don’t change in front of me ! Geez !” you exclaim, flustered. This man had no shame ! You only hear his laugh, as he seemed proud of himself. You sigh and sit on the bed, taking off your clothes, thoughtful. You fold them, before wrapping the towel around your body. Ok, that shit was tiny… It barely reached under your ass, and you couldn’t move too much or else it would fall. Alright, you had to work with that.

You try to be brave, feeling oddly nervous at the idea of being like that with Satoru, before stepping towards the bathroom. The door was still open from earlier, and as you carefully look inside, you see him already inside the jacuzzi. He was sitting lazily, head tilted back, his Adam apple to your seeing. The bubbles reached his middle, and you saw the tiny towel around his waist, hiding any private areas. His arms were spread out on each side of the tube, and he slowly moved his gaze towards you when sensing your approach. Holy fuck, he looked temptingly hot. Way too hot. No, that was bad. This whole atmosphere was bad. Since you started this fake dating thing with him, your fantasies grew wilder, and it got harder each time to hide your feelings and desires for your best friend.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he teases, smiling cheekily. And God, that infuriated you so much. You glare at him as you carefully enter the jacuzzi, being awfully aware that the towel was way too small for you.

“Shut up,” you say, scouting away from him once you are completely inside the water. You sigh of comfort and pleasure, enjoying the bubbles against your body. It felt relaxing, your muscles needed that. 

“Why are you sitting so far away ?” asks your best friend, suspicious. You gaze at his half naked figure, his wet hair being slicked back, some drops falling down his face, neck, arms, chest. Ok, you should stop staring. And clearly, you felt like a dog. Why were you so tempted to just pounce on him ?! 

“Because you stink,” you reply, trying to hide your smile as you turn your head away and cover your nose. That obviously was a lie, Satoru always smelled something sweet, just like he got out of a bakery or a candy store. 

“Me ? Stinky ? I beg to differ ! Come here,” he scoffs, frowning, obviously offended, before suddenly grabbing you. He brings you towards him at light speed, making some of the water move around and splash. His arms wrap around your waist and squeeze you against his torso. You are now sitting in between his legs, your skin rubbing his. Holy shit, you swallow your saliva, looking up at him as you shift awkwardly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, his blue eyes boring into yours, and you bat your lashes nervously. You wished you could act like everything was ok, back to normal, but it was almost impossible.

“Like what ?” you mutter back. Suddenly, your throat is dry. You were thirsty, and not only for water. Ok, the romantic atmosphere wasn’t helping at all, not to add the proximity. You move a bit, but Satoru doesn’t let you squirm away, resulting in your face getting closer to his.

“Like you want to kiss me,” he murmurs, and your stomach drops. You look away, at his shoulder instead. 

“You’re just projecting,” you end up answering, like you were just joking around. But the wavering in your voice betrays you instantly. Satoru narrows his eyes, and his thumb starts to softly caress your thigh, right below the towel. Your heart starts to beat incredibly faster.

“So you say I’m the one that wants to kiss you ?” he muses, smug. His eyes search yours for any truth, but you continue to look away.

“Kinda,” you simply say, and try to gather your courage to look back at his face. It would be weird if you stared away for too long, right ? Wrong, the moment you turn around, your lips are only a few inches from his. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Don’t tempt me,” he ends up saying, his breath caressing your lips. You look at his, pink and moisturized. Tempting, and you knew from the gathering that they tasted sweet.

“I didn’t,” you simply answer, and his thumb draws a circle on your thigh.

“You are.”

“You’re dumb,” you chuckle nervously, not knowing what to say. He smiles, like an idiot that just won the lottery.

“Love makes you dumb,” he says, kissing your cheek. You open your eyes wider, not sure if what you heard was correct. Did you ? Is he serious or just joking around like usual ? No, Satoru is your best friend. FRIEND. Get that in your head. You both loved to tease each other, so it was nothing new. Yeah, just the usual joking around, exactly. You take a deep breath and inhale a laugh, trying to not sound too nervous.

“You take your role of pretending to be my boyfriend very seriously,” you say, and his arm loosen a bit, allowing you to get more comfortable. You back away, leaving slightly his warmth, getting on the opposite side of the tub to face him. Even if the jacuzzi wasn’t very large, your legs tangling together, you at least could breathe better. Hoping to clear your clouded horny mind.

“I’m serious,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. You stare back, not answering, because at first you didn’t know how to react to his words. Some seconds pass, the tension still present as ever. You bite your lower lip, and then play with the hem of your towel, before sighing.

“Satoru…,” you start to say, in a soft voice.

“Hmmm ?”

“Do you think it would be that weird if we really started dating ?” you ask, looking into his eyes. He holds your gaze. Wait, why did you ask that ? You actually blurted this question out of your mouth without realizing. But you were dying to know his answer. It was vital.

“No,” he says, as simple as ever.

“Why ?”

“We’re basically acting like an old married couple all the time,” he explains, flashing you a teasing smile, chuckling. You chuckle back too, and then gently look away at the candles.

“True. But you don’t do commitment,” you say, more bitterly than you wanted. You hated yourself for saying the words Naoya said back at the gathering. It made you feel nauseous. Yet, you couldn’t help but know a part of what he said was true. Satoru didn’t give his heart like that. The risk of doing that was too high. Walls were all around him, making it almost impossible to reach his heart. 

“I… do,” he answers awkwardly. Oh no, did you make him uncomfortable ? But it was too late now, you couldn’t stop from speaking your mind. It was weighing heavy on you, after all. Could he really blame you for that ? Maybe. Or maybe not. It was too complicated.

“I know, you don’t have time for real relationships,” you say vaguely.

“Y/n, being The Strongest means…” sighs Satoru, frustrated.

“A lot of responsibilities, and you aren’t allowed to be vulnerable. So committing to someone is a no for you,” you cut him in his sentence. There is a pause where he stares at you longly, silent, frowning.

“I guess…”

“But I’ll always be here for you, you know that, right ?” you whisper, looking back at him, feeling bad for this change of mood. His lips stretch in a small smile, and you feel like you can breathe again. 

“I know.”

A second passes. You don’t talk, him either.

“Me too. I’ll always be here for you.” You smile at his words. You melted a little as well.

“I know,” you whisper. He looks at you like he wants to devour you.

Before you can understand what is happening, he suddenly looms over you, grabs your face, and kisses you. Tenderly. Oh, you think you just died and came back to life in a matter of a heart beat. Talking about heart, it’s hammering widely now. You shiver, as his hot and heavy breath is heard, mixed with the feeling of his hands cradling you with care and softness. You can’t resist, and answer the kiss. What was happening ? Why was he kissing you ? It wasn’t like at the gathering. No. It felt different. His lips move against yours, tilting his head to the side as he leans closer, impossibly closer.

“Don’t mind me,” he whispers in between a new kiss, his left hand sliding behind your head to hold you. “I’m just…” he continues, his lips more passionate, needier at each breath he takes, “... practicing,” he ends up saying, his knee sliding in between your thighs. Holy fuck, your towel suddenly feels suffocating, making you want to take it off. No, rip it off.

“Practicing for what ?” you ask in a short whisper as he cuts your breath by claiming your lips all over again. It was fierce, impatient. His right hand slides under your towel, reaching your thigh, inching towards your butt.

“If we need to put on a show in front of the elders, again,” he explains, before smashing his lips against yours, not allowing you to answer or utter a word aside from a moan. Your body feels like jelly, his knee dangerously close to your heat, his tongue caressing yours.

He sucks on your lip before devouring your mouth with so much want, like you were the last meal of this poor starved man. His fingers grips your hair, his other hand squeezing the fat of your inner thigh now. He opens more of your legs to slide them around his waist, as he stands up. You gasp, but he drinks it, his arm supporting you and grabbing your ass to keep you steady. Your body feels like it’s on fire, the water rushing down your two bodies as the kiss gets more intense. 

Not only the water got you wet, and you moaned against his tongue. Your breast is about to spill out of the towel, pressed on his torso, your nipples getting hard. He feels it. It’s making him crazy.

Satoru steps out of the jacuzzi without any difficulty, carrying you in his arms, and puts you down on the sink to continue kissing you. Even if the air around felt colder as you left the warmth of the water, your bodies are simply heated to the bone. He grabs your waist, bringing you closer, and you swear you just felt something hard. You glance down, and open your eyes wider when you notice that under his towel, Satoru is hard. Hard like a rock.

Lord have mercy. 

It grinds against your clothed cunt, and you can’t help but moan. It twitches, and his hands dig dipper in your fat. His tongue caresses you sensually, and you hear him groan. He then suddenly parted his lips away from yours, breathing heavy, panting like a dog, forehead falling on your shoulder.

“Y/n, push me away,” he suddenly says, catching back his breath.

“What ?” you ask, confused, still shaken from what happened.

“Or slap me, if you prefer,” he adds, his wet hair sticking to your skin as his hands roam up your back. You shudder, his touch feeling electric.

“Slap you ? Satoru you’re talking nonsen-” you start to answer.

“Please,” he cuts you, tilting his face to the side so you could look into his eyes. You gulp.

“Why ?” you whisper.

“Because I need to get away from you before we cross a line, and I don’t have the will to stop. So please, make me stop,” he begs. Satoru is begging you, looking weak, about to snap, about to crumble completely.

“And what if I don’t want to stop ?” you dare answer. 

“Y/n, please,” he insists. You stare into his eyes, and see all the self restraint in his gaze. You take a deep breath. You wanted more, but Satoru was right, it would be crossing a line. A line that maybe you weren’t ready to cross yet. Not now. So, reluctant, you push him away. Satoru steps back, putting his hand in his wet hair. You fluster, crossing your legs. He grabs a dry towel, and throws it at you. You catch it as he takes one too, wrapping it around his waist to take off the wet one and put it to dry as well.

“Let’s dry ourselves and go to sleep, yeah ? I’ll bring your pajamas so you can change in the bathroom,” he announces without waiting for an answer. You stay like that, unmoving, not knowing how to react, and he is already back, giving them to you. You barely notice him kissing your forehead, like an apology, before he turns around and closes the door to leave you the intimacy you needed to get changed.

… Ok. What just happened ?! 

Like a robot, you take off the wet towel and dry yourself with the other one. You don’t know how long you took, but once you are finished, you are stepping in the bedroom. You see him already under the covers, the flowers that formed the heart on the sheets are now down on the floor. His arms are crossed behind his head, and he glances at you when you arrive. Only the light of the moon outside was illuminating his face. You felt shy after what happened. There wasn’t the excuse of alcohol or annoying the elders to explain this steamy hot kisses session. The two of you knew that “practice” was a terrible lie. You sigh as you slide under the covers, and turn your back to Satoru as you try to calm down.

“Good night,” you end up saying.

“Good night, y/n,” he says, and God, it was awkward. You felt him shift slightly, his body brushing against yours. Some minutes passed in silence, only the sounds of your breathings in the quietness of the night.

“Do you hate me now ?” he suddenly asks out of nowhere, and you turn around, looking at him surprised.

“What ? Why would I ?”

“For kissing you like that,” he explains, and you look away, recalling his lips on yours. You fluster and sigh before answering “no, Satoru. I don’t.”  He smiles and then scoots even closer before wrapping his arm around your body, snuggling your back against his chest.

“I thought you were mad,” he whispers in the crook of your neck as he inhales your scent.

“I’m not, I promise,” you say gently.

“So… if I did it again, you wouldn't be mad, right ?” he teases.

“Don’t push your luck,” you chuckle softly.

“At least I asked,” he hums.

“Sleep, Satoru,” you order him. God, it felt good to talk back normally with him. The tension slowly died down. Because if it stayed like that, you wouldn’t have been able to sleep.

“Yes ma’am,” he ends up answering before kissing your cheek in a giggle.

It took you longer to fall asleep than usual, but at least, you managed to.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ  

The next day, the two of you didn’t talk about what happened, not even once. The rest of the day was full of the two of you being busy strolling around the city and the mountains, before having to go back to Tokyo. Later in the afternoon, after eating at a small local restaurant, you went to take your bullet train. Again, you had three hours to kill. Satoru decided to pester you, which ended in you wanting to kill him, but that only amused him more. He eventually calmed down when you both shared your earphones to listen to music, slowly falling back asleep against his shoulder.

It’s in a sigh that you stretch, done with the report you just had to do to the elders about the mission. Satoru grins, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Their faces were hilarious ! They were so mad that their little plan didn’t work !” exclaims Satoru, laughing, proud of this outcome. The plan did kind of work, actually. But not like the elders expected. You decide to not mention it.

“If they want new sorcerers so bad, why don’t they try to have kids themselves ?!” you sigh, walking next to him in the corridor, and Satoru glances at you.

“I think their sperm is like ashes, so probably it won’t work even if they tried,” he jokes, even though what he said had a big part of truth. You choke on your saliva, your face distorting with disgust.

“Ewwww, I just imagined it !” you cry out, Satoru explodes with laughter, and you soon do too. When he was laughing, it was impossible to not follow. It was way too contagious.

“Ahhhh… Sometimes I just wish I could annihilate all the elders without the consequences,” he suddenly says, looking at the sky.

“What ?” you ask surprised, not sure of what you heard.

“What ?” he repeats innocently, as if he didn’t say anything. You chuckle, shaking your head.

Everything was just fun and giggles (and hot make out sessions) for now. But going against the wish of the elders meant business. They didn’t care about your happiness as a couple with Gojo, -even if it was fake-, nor even cared about him as a person in the slightest. All they wanted was for him to work himself to the bone as The Strongest, and carry his duty as the head of the Gojo Clan, meaning marriage and heirs. If you weren’t able to give him that, then they would soon need to… get rid of you. And find a better suitor for their goals.

Fake dating Satoru brought you more problems than you originally thought. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Part 3 coming soon !

[darkroom-fanzine]

[And the curtain opens...!]

[Image Description: a black and white banner gif showing Siffrin from In Stars And Time as he wanders through the third floor of the House. He is posed in the center of the image, faced to his left (viewer's right) as if moving in that direction. Behind him are four trailing repetitions of his image, each one losing opacity as they get further away, with a final fifth one having its values inverted, appearing instead as Mal Du Pays. Floating around them are six polaroid photographs, the first covering up the right half of Siffrin's face, showing instead a values inversion of it within its borders, their expression blank. Beyond that in order from closest to Siffrin to farthest away, the polaroids show Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie, and one that is indistinguishable, all members of the party with their faces distorted out, while the last one is distorted beyond a potential for recognition. On the other side of Siffrin, to his left, is a flash-like burst evocative of a camera flash or a star (much like Loop's head), partially hidden over by Siffrin's shadow. Around the brick walls in the background and partially growing over the bottom left of the foreground can be seen the King's hair, and in the bottom right is text reading: "Darkroom | an ISAT Fanzine". The entire thing has been animated to look as if the lines around Siffrin, their shadows, and all the distortions over the polaroids are boiling, while light shines off from around the flash/star. End ID.]

[Hello, stardust~! How can I help you on this wonderful new loop?]

Welcome, everyone! This is the blog for the upcoming project, "Darkroom: an ISAT Fanzine". We are excited to finally announce our beginnings, and hope you will stick around to see what it is we have to offer!

Firstly, let us introduce ourselves. The mod team for this fanzine comprises of myself (@actingwithportals), as well as @voidedtea, @publiccmenace, @astrangeavenue, @sundimus, and @plasticteabag. Between the six of us, we have experience as leads, co-leads, moderators, and contributors on four individual fanzine projects, and are all excited to begin work on something new!

Now, let's get to the fun part, shall we?

[Darkroom: Negative Space, Long Exposure, Afterimage.]

The theming for this fanzine centers around the idea of distortions, how they obscure what we see and perceive, and how they can bring to light an entirely new perspective hidden behind the more easily comprehensible. In Stars And Time shows us throughout Siffrin's loops how the order of a carefully curated script can bring about a chaotic mental state, and how the chaotic breaking down of these self-imposed walls can bring about the order of accepting vulnerability.

Change is often destruction, and in the midst of that destruction can be found something beautiful, something to live for. This is the idea we hope to present through this fanzine.

[Fanzine Content.]

The Darkroom Fanzine will be a multi-media culmination of fanworks created by fans, for fans, and available for free download on Itch.io. Creations can vary anywhere from art, to writing, to music, to essays, to crafts, to whatever you can think of that you would like to see included in this project!

The only restrictions we will be enforcing is content that lies outside of the existing rating for the game, meaning no 18+ subject material.

However new you are to your Craft—whether it be writing, art, edits, collages, or anything beyond—your skills are welcomed here. From beginners to professionals, all are encouraged to apply! Once we hit an internally agreed upper limit of participants, we will lock the sign-up form should that limit be reached before the end date of the sign-ups occurs.

[Interest Checks.]

To kick this off, we are opening an interest check form to gauge interest for this project. The form will remain open from January 23rd through February 22nd, upon which the following day (February 23rd) the sign-up form will go live.

[Curtain Call.]

Thank you all for taking the time to read this far, and if you have any further questions/inquiries/concerns about this project, our askbox is open! Relatedly, you can also shoot us an email at darkroom.fanzine@gmail.com.

INTEREST CHECK FORM HERE.

[See you under the Favor Tree soon, stardust~ ✨]

[theocddiaries]

[In Stone's café, Shadow brings the bill to Maddie, who is sitting with her children. He gives Sonic a piece of cake.] Shadow: On the house. Knuckles: Oh, nice! If I’d known we’d eat for free because you’re dating the waiter, I would’ve asked him out myself. Everyone: Shhh!! [They see Robotnik passing by with a box in his hands. He stops and looks at them after hearing the commotion. Maddie waves, and he nods in acknowledgment before leaving the café.] Tails: It’s not the meal that’s free; it’s just the piece of cake for Sonic. Knuckles: Ugh, it’s always Sonic! Why never me?! …Oh, right, because now you’re a couple… Everyone: Shhh! [Robotnik, comes back into the café, looks at their table suspiciously. They all give him fake smiles, and he continues on his way.] Shadow [in a low voice]: Knuckles, for the umpteenth time, you can’t say that here because Ivo and Mr. Stone don’t know. Knuckles: What? That you lost your voice? Sonic: That he’s dating me, knucklehead. Maddie: Sweetheart, trust me, you’ll feel better if you tell them. Shadow: No. They’re letting me live in their house; I can’t impose even more by telling them I’m dating Sonic. No offense. Sonic: None taken. Tails: But Maddie’s right. You don’t have to tell Eggman; you could tell Stone, and he could tell him for you. Knuckles: Who’s "he"? Stone or Robotnik? Robotnik [about to leave again]: What? Knuckles: What? Robotnik: Were you calling me? Knuckles: No. Robotnik: Oh. Knuckles: We were mentioning you. Robotnik: What??? Maddie: Yeah, because we wondered if one can order food to go here? Robotnik: The hell I know. Ask Stone, it’s his café. Sonic: Then what are you doing here all the time, coming in and out? Robotnik: What does it matter to you, little pest! [continues on his way] Shadow: Sonic, you’re not making it easier. [Robotnik comes back in, still holding a box.] Sonic: But what's he even doing? Knuckles: Wait. Does Robotnik know or not? And what is it we know? Because I’m-- Maddie: Knuckles, honey, remember this morning when you asked me if you could use the living room to do your training? Knuckles: Yes. Maddie: Well, you can. Let’s go. [gets up] Knuckles: Oh, yes! [jumps out of his seat]: Free food and a family training session, this is the best day of my life! [Tails gives Maddie a pleading look, but she just makes apologetic gestures as she ushers him away. Sonic and Shadow are left alone.] Sonic [stands up]: Look, if it helps, I think Stone will take it well and support you. And they’re not 'letting' you live with them. You’re part of their family; they won’t kick you out over something like this. And if it ever happens, which it won’t, you’re always welcome at my place, okay? [puts a hand on his shoulder] Shadow: Thanks-- Robotnik [approaching with Stone, still holding the box]: Shadow. [Shadow sweeps Sonic’s legs out from under him, making him fall, so it looks like he was holding his arm to keep him from falling.] Robotnik: How many times do I have to tell you to just let him fall? I deserve to laugh, too. Sonic: Eggman, why don't you go to hell? Robotnik: Later. Now, Stone and I want to tell Shadow something. Stone: Shadow… Um. Ivo and I are dating. Sonic: My condolences, Stone. Robotnik: Shut your mouth! Stone: Is that okay with you? Shadow: Yes. Sure. Stone: Really? [sighs]: That’s a huge weight off my shoulders. Robotnik: Mine too. [shows them the box, which is empty]: I've been walking with an empty box because I didn't know how to approach this. [sets it down] Stone: It’s best to just say it. We’re all family; we can’t keep such important things from each other. Shadow: …Right. Stone: Well, when you’re done with the tables, come help me prep the daily special, okay? Shadow: Sure, I’ll be right there. [Stone leaves with Robotnik.] Shadow: …I guess I have to tell them, don’t I? Sonic: It’s your call. But I’m glad you see Stone is trustworthy. Shadow: Hm… [grabs the box]: First, I’m going to take a walk with this and hope it helps me too.

[callsign-rogueone]

house calls

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!)

words: 1.7k

🏷: set in the second half of iron flame. some soft moments in aretia with the gang before they head back to school. peach is a baby whisperer, sawyer is adorable, deep convo at the end, mentions of wildfire and mild peril (they both lived, clearly), made some more stuff up about sawyer’s family, teeny ridoc and sweetheart cameo, replacing jesinia with peach here kinda… more hints about peach’s relationship with the gods, I hope it’s not obvious that I’ve only seen snow twice and have never interacted with a baby, their next chapter will be the end of iron flame for them, including… that. (spicy chapter before this one tba!)

You aren’t expecting Ridoc to be the one to answer the door, but he offers you a grin nonetheless. “Hey, P!”

The rest of the squad turn their heads, waving from where they’re crowded into the living room, along with several riders and fliers you’ve never met.

“I was wondering where y’all ran off to,” you laugh. You stomp the snow out of your boots before you step inside, letting down the hood of your cloak. “It’s going to storm tonight, so I asked if I could go around and make some house calls before everyone gets snowed in. This is my last stop.”

Sawyer takes the giant basket you’re holding, offering his arm to hold onto as you take off your boots and set them in the heap by the door. “That’s new,” he manages, finally noticing your outfit.

“Major Aisereigh gave it to me. She said it’s a traditional Tyrrish dress. I think it’s the nicest thing I’ve ever owned,” you laugh, brushing off the skirt.

Sawyer continues to blink at you, taking it in. Nice is an understatement. It looks like it was tailor-made for you — a bodice that’s just the right amount of tight in the places that matter, strings tied in a bow behind your back to cinch around your waist before it melts into a long pleated skirt that ebbs and flows with each step you take, woven with a complex striped pattern. You’ve layered a white long sleeve underneath for warmth, but it could just as easily be worn without on a summer day to dance around in a field of wildflowers.

You’re covered from wrist to ankle, but you’ve never looked more beautiful as you do now, winter sunlight warming your skin, snowflakes melting in your eyelashes and the cold warming your cheeks.

“Say something,” Sliseag prods.

He finally finds words. “You look absolutely perfect in everything you wear, but this… this might be my favorite.”

“I think it’s mine, too. This beats those terrible robes any day. And it feels more… me than the rider’s uniform. Oh, hi!”

He clears his throat, making a hasty introduction. “This is Rhi’s sister, Raegan. Raegan, this is my girlfriend — she’s training as a healer.”

“Everyone just calls me peach,” you offer, extending a hand to shake. “And who’s this?”

“Lukas.”

“Hi, Lukas,” you coo. “You’re such a cutie. How old is he?”

“Just about six months.”

“Congratulations, both of you. How are you doing?”

“He made a good adjustment to the move, thankfully. But he’s teething now, which has been a struggle, especially at night. Neither of us are getting much sleep.”

“Oh, I bet,” you empathize. “My mom would suggest letting him chomp on a cold washcloth — but I’m sure Ridoc could set you up with plenty of clean snow for him to snack on.” You touch Sawyer’s elbow — he’s still lingering by your side. “Don’t let me distract you. And there’s snacks in there, if y’all want anything.”

————

When you finish up with Reagan and Lukas, Sawyer waves you over, half a cookie in hand. “How did you… These taste exactly like my mom’s.”

“I’m glad,” you laugh. “It’s her recipe.”

He looks at you like you’ve just told him that you genuinely believe that the earth is flat and the sky is just a blue bed sheet strung up to dry. “She gave it to you?”

You laugh. “Yes! We made them together, while you and the boys were out fixing the fence, and she wrote it all down for me. Said to hang on to it for the future when I had a household of my own.”

“Peach,” he says, way too seriously to still be still talking about cookies, “she’s never given anyone that recipe. Even my aunt doesn’t know it.” You don’t seem to understand the significance of this, but he certainly isn’t going to explain that his mother gave you the seal of approval to join the family.

“You Lucerans are weird,” Ridoc says, shaking his head, but not before he swipes a cookie out of the box.

“Take one for your girl, too,” you nudge quietly.

“I’m gonna break it in half,” he responds over his shoulder. “More romantic that way.”

You shake your head, amused. “That’s actually adorable.”

“It is,” Sawyer agrees. “Sometimes I wonder how he landed her, and then he does stuff like that.” There’s a soft silence before he speaks again. “How are you feeling? Being here?”

It’s been a few days since your arrival, and you’re still getting acclimated — getting to know everyone, and no longer getting lost on the walk between the infirmary and your room.

“It’s good,” you answer. “Different, but good. It feels like home, in a lot of ways. Like being home, but with friends.”

He gazes at the group, who are comfortably chatting and laughing as they work, spread out across the floor and crowded around every chair and table in the house. “Like it’s Harvest day, but all the time.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Like that.”

There’s a soft cry from the cradle, and you turn immediately, striding across the room. “You’re okay, sweet boy,” you coo, gathering him into your arms and swaying gently to comfort him. He quiets almost immediately, content just to be held.

“How?” Sloane asks in sheer disbelief.

Sawyer looks at you, shrugging. “She’s always been beloved by animals and babies.”

“You’re dating a fairytale princess, dude,” Ridoc says with a soft laugh.

“I know,” he replies, still watching you with the little boy, who is now resting happily against your shoulder as you hold him. “She’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

“You better marry that girl,” Maren orders, pointing her pen at him.

“I plan to.”

The table sits with the admission for a moment before they resume their studies.

He watches you turn to Raegan, speaking quietly so you don’t disturb the babe — you must have promised to watch him and let her get some rest, as she offers you a grateful smile and disappears through a door in the corner of the room, closing it behind her.

“You don’t happen to know any old Lucerish, do you?” Violet asks quietly, sounding exhausted.

“Only some old sayings. Farmer’s wisdom. Probably not anything that would be in there.”

“Humor me?”

You lean against the armrest of the chair Sawyer is sitting in, still holding the baby — he curls an arm around your hips, keeping you steady as you lean down to read the journal. The page she has open is covered with swirling symbols, most of which you’ve never seen before. But besides the numbers… “I know that one,” you say, gently tapping one of them with a fingernail. “Atem. Breath.”

She blinks at you, her brow creasing. “Breath?”

You nod. “There’s an old adage about harvesting fall vegetables — when you can see your breath in the morning for the fifth time that season, you should pick everything you can that day or take it inside. Otherwise the frost will kill it within the week.” You continue scanning the page. “But the rest… I have no idea. Kids aren’t taught any of this in school, especially not where we’re from. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

“No, you helped a lot, actually. I’m gonna head back to the house; I need to talk to Brennan about this.” She stands, piling everything into her bag. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”

You slip into her chair, tucking your legs underneath you — it’s much warmer inside than out, but it’s still a bit chilly in here.

Aretia really is like home.

——————

The fresh snow crunches under your boots as you make the walk back to school, side by side. It’s so quiet out here that you almost don’t want to speak at all, but now that you’re finally alone, you can say what’s been on your mind for the last two hours.

“Do you remember the fire?” you ask softly. “When we were still in school?”

“Of course I do. How could I possibly forget that?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, watching the trail of footprints in front of you — the rest of the squad had left a bit earlier than you did. “I kept trying to forget, but it didn’t work. Thought you’d brushed it off — you were always the brave one, not me.”

An unusually dry year had led the fields to burn easily, strong winds sweeping the fire through the landscape in a matter of hours — quickly enough that when you and Sawyer finished up your daily chores, you realized you were trapped.

“I thought we were going to die in that barn,” you admit. “I prayed for a little while, to all the gods I could think of, but eventually I just accepted it. We were hardly fifteen, but we’d lived good lives, done good things and helped feed our families and dozens of others for years. And we were together. That was it, really. That we were together, holding hands.”

He holds you a little closer as he responds. “I think about that day a lot. Whenever I’m scared, or I need to be brave, I think about the two of us sitting in that gross water trough, soaked to the bone and waiting to die, and I tell myself that we were spared for a reason. What that reason is, I have no idea. But if it’s anything, it’s probably this.”

“Probably.”

“What made you think of it?” he asks.

“It’s been on my mind a lot lately. Probably because y’all smell a little bit like smoke all the time. But hearing some of the things you all talked about today... I still only have half an idea how any of this works, but I know it’s not good, and it won’t be easy, either.”

He makes a soft noise of agreement, but lets you continue.

“My point is, I think we could get through anything as long as we were together. Including this.”

“I feel the same way. And just like then, I don’t plan on letting go any time soon.”

You laugh, remembering how you’d refused to separate, falling asleep on the floor of his grandparents’ living room still holding hands.

“Neither do I,” you say quietly. “Neither do I.”

[okaysonny]

Hiii!!! Omll I js came across your page few days ago, love the way you write the Characters!! I was wondering if I could request a Vin Jin x reader, in general just fluff and goofing off like two mischievous idiots, and Mary having to deal with their bs a lot. Also could you include Reader and Mary bonding time like I feel like they would honestly be best of friends!! 😭

If you picked this up thank you so muchhh and don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated! 🫶

karaoke night ╏ vin jin + mary kim

𝄞 summary: your karaoke night with mary takes a chaotic turn.

𝄞 details: fluff, f! reader, won't make sense if you haven't read jacedaichi case files arc!

𝄞 wc: 780

𝄞 A/N: anon! thanks for being so nice 💘 hope you like it :)

the plan had been simple. you and mary, a chill karaoke night, a fun time.

until vin jin finds out, of course.

“are you kidding me? karaoke again? i’m a rapper. i’m basically built for this” he boasts. “you’re welcome for blessing you girls with my skills”

now, here he is, sitting on the couch in the private room with an air of importance.

mary sighs. “...this was supposed to be relaxing”

vin jin scoffs. “relaxing is listening to me rap. instead we’re stuck here listening to amateur hour”

you roll your eyes, flipping through the song list. “you talk a lot for someone who can’t rap on beat”

vin jin slams his hand on the table dramatically. “what did you just say? i’ll have you know my skills are—”

“trash” you say, cutting him off. “anyway mary, how do you feel about singing illusion? it's my favourite DG song!”

mary’s eyes light up. “mine too! let's do it!”

as the music starts playing, you and mary grab the mics, your voices completely off pitch, but enthusiastic nonetheless.

vin jin winces, sinking deeper into the couch — as if your singing physically hurts him.

“this is painful. how does DG even make money? they should put my songs on here instead. then you’ll see what real talent sounds like”

you smirk, lowering your mic. “your talent? you mean the ability to make everyone’s ears bleed?”

mary stifles a laugh as she tries to focus on singing.

vin jin grits his teeth. “you’re just jealous of my raw skill!”

“oh...i'll show you some raw skill alright” you shoot mary a devilish grin and select a new song.

mary’s eyes widen in horror as she sees the title. “no...you wouldn’t. stop! you know what’ll happen!”

vin jin looks confused, his eyes darting between you two. “what’s the big deal? what did she—”

the instrumental to duke’s song starts playing.

he freezes. “you…you bitch!”

to mary’s resigned disappointment — vin jin can’t stop himself.

“You look like you're an aboker, Y'all just clueless!” he barks the lyrics into the mic, standing up abruptly.

vin jin moves involuntarily to the beat, his body already betraying him.

you cackle hysterically. “oh my god, he’s doing it! he’s twerking again!”

“shut up! i can’t stop!” he shouts as his hips shake — quite aggressively.

mary watches in disbelief. “...stop twerking” she mutters.

for just a moment, mary finds herself thinking about the old days in cheonliang. the teasing, the laughter — it felt…familiar. she didn’t say it, but the sight fills her with something warm.

after some more singing (and vin jin refusing to acknowledge he’d ever twerked), the three of you wrap up the night.

vin jin had stalked off, grumbling about how he’d been “set up” and “betrayed by the system,” leaving you and mary walking home together.

“you two are exhausting” she says, though her tone is more amused than annoyed.

“pfft, admit it. watching vin twerk made your whole week” you bump elbows with her.

“watching vin twerk will haunt my whole week” she shoots back.

but mary shakes her head, her smile undeniable. “you guys are so ridiculous, but it’s kind of fun. makes me think of…”

— of her friends back in cheonliang. the teasing, the ridiculous antics, a place where mary felt like she belonged. watching you and vin jin tonight, it almost feels like those days again.

“...yeah?” you ask, noticing her distant look.

mary blinks, snapping back to the present. “nothing” she murmurs. “just thinking”

“about how you can’t wait to sing with me again?” you beam, pleased with yourself.

“...sure, we’ll go with that” she replies dryly.

as you continue down the street, the conversation shifts to lighter topics — what tunes you’d sing next time, why DG suddenly announced his retirement, and if vin would ever admit he likes duke’s songs.

when you reach her house, mary turns to you, her expression soft. “thanks for tonight. it was…nice”

you grin. “you’re welcome. karaoke wouldn’t be the same without you”

mary raises a brow. “you mean it wouldn’t be the same without vin embarrassing himself”

“okay, true. but you make it better! you keep us from being too chaotic” you nod in satisfaction.

mary rolls her eyes, but there's a flicker of genuine gratitude. “someone has to”

you smile warmly at her. “...goodnight, mary”

she gives you a wave, before disappearing inside.

you stand there for a moment in contemplation. you can’t shake the feeling that mary had more to say, but you leave her be.

you tuck the moment away, turning to head home, already thinking of what you could bring to karaoke next time.

divider: @thecutestgrotto

[atangledfate]

It was no surprise to dawn that Twist struggled to understand a gift of gaia. It wasn't really something most mobians thought about at least not the why. most just accepted that some of them were born special, and gifted. To some it was being touched by light gaia and to others it was thought to be a curse of Dark Gaia. Still many more informed thought was simple mutation but, the truth was no body really knew. Mobians were just born gifted, or curse and had to live with there abilities. Dawn never believed for a second it was worth thinking to deeply on.

" hah! no problem, honestly i wish i knew the real reason but ya know my ma' use to say--- some mysteries in life are meant to stay a mystery. Now go clean your room! "

Her duplicate smiled as she lead twist down the hall to the triage wing where many of the worse injuries were being kept. Lots of duplicates rushed around with carts and first aid kits trying to care for many patients.

" Yea, Capitalism is always a drag... But i bet there is some program to help out. Well anyway it was just a thought..."

Her ear twitched at the mention of watching someone lose an arm and being fine. She had to endure such wounds during the war, and while her duplicates tended to disappear when suffered major injury. She still had vivid memories of getting sliced up, crushed, or maimed during the war. It didn't leave a mark on the real dawn but the mental trauma of enduring was everlasting mark on her psyche.

" Here we are... come on let's get these folks patched up... and ready for transfer to GUN's facility. Least the ones we can move! "

=============================================

In truth Jewel didn't know much about Yara's family but they did have a well known reputation concerning thieves. Made her wonder if that's how he lost his tail, or if he was born that way. She just hoped the prince would treat them well and not be to hard on them. She made a mental note to check up on them later. though Surge's report did seem to worry her to no end. Why was GUN being so cruel? she'd always had goo report with Mr. Tower, and now this?

" I See... that's still concerning. Thank you Surge for the update. Also thank you again Highness... your talents are still most welcome. But i did mean what i said. I expect you to treat the boys well... i'll be checking on them to insure they aren't mistreated in the days ahead...everyone deserves a chance at redemption after all."

She turned to Surge and buzzed up to eye level as she felt it helped her seem more commanding.

" Surge i need you to get me back to command as soon as possible. I can't help but feel my place is in the command center with the others. With things feeling a bit dire... i need to try and contact General Tower and see what is actually going on... i can't believe he'd authorize a move like this..."

"Can't say I even understand Gaia Gifts even having it explained to me, though that's the best way anyone's explained it to me." Twist supposed all the doctors explain it in a lot of detail instead of just giving a simple and easy answer. The lemur supposed the gifts were just so complex most figured a more detail explanation was helpful, though it just made him have more questions.

"Thought bout it, though I don't got that kind of cash and insurance won't cover something like that." Twist and his family lived rather comfortable, though cybernetics were expense. Though now it made him wonder what his G.U.N contacts could do. Maybe he could even return to service as he wasn't that old. Something he'd worry about later as there were more pressing matters.

"I've see a solider lose their arm right in front of me and didn't so much as flinch. I'm sure I can handle whatever injures are here." Twist had seen some major injuries during his service so not much could shake him. The lemur would simply start to follow one of the copies of the nurse. He might have to shake of some of the rust to remember everything, though it shouldn't take long.

===========================================================

"I know my parents don't have the best reputation, though I can assure you I am nothing like them." Yara's parents weren't cruel, though they have always been seen as rather ruthless with their rule as punishments for crimes were often swift and at times harsh. Makes for a secure kingdom, though also a tense one when it comes to the people that live in it. "My talent isn't in healing, though I can revert the damage enough to where you basically got a small bump on your head." His main skills were in his Illusion Mist.

"We'll still be careful not to get on your bad side. Last thing we need is to be on your families bad side again." Rough was surprised they managed to make it out of Midesta the first time and doubt they'd get lucky again. Though Yara was always has a softer approach then his parents. The skunk was glad to hear they let him take charge of running things.

"It ain't that bad, just G.U.N being a bunch of dicks and wanting you lot to close up shop so they can poke their nose around. Guess they knew about Clutch and Mimic here, yet didn't want to share that information with you guys." Surge supposed she should be glad as she was sure they'd throw her and Kit under the bus as well.

"I suppose I should contact my representative in G.U.N to inform them about my punishment for Rough and Tumble. They may not be completely pleased, though my family has always held a good relation with them so I doubt they'll put up much of a fuss about it." Yara supposed it helped the two skunk brothers were rather small time criminals.

[stephdrawsjohnlock]

Fandom Trumps Hate 2025!

Looking for a scene drawn for your story? A piece to help inspire you to write a fic? A new icon? How about covers for your story with full print-ready Graphic Design service? Maybe a pinup, or some trading cards (up to 10)?? Maybe a gift for someone, or just your vision of a character(s) (up to 3 character sheets) for your AU?

Well, that’s just some of the stuff I’m willing to offer for this year’s @fandomtrumpshate​​ Charity Event! FTH is a WONDERFUL community project that supports amazing non-profits through donations for fanworks via this wonderful annual event!

I am offering ONE fanart Piece for BBC Sherlock or Good Omens!

Because of my day job's circumstances this year where I will be guaranteed to be indisposed for about 3 months and unable to work on my personal projects, I feel I am only able to offer up one piece this year instead of my usual 2 to 4. This will be my sixth year, and the piece will be for either the BBC Sherlock or Good Omens fandoms, starting at 10$ for the non-profit of your choice!

Here are some past FTH pieces I’ve done, if you’re interested in seeing the scope of the work you would be getting from me:

2020:

GO - :FTH 2020 – Lagniappe for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

GO - :FTH 2020 BONUS – Réveillon for Big_Edies_Sun_Hat:

2021

SH - :This Year: (FTH #1 for @discordantwords​​)

SH - :Burlesque Johnlock: (FTH #2 for @ohlooktheresabee​)

2022

SH – :A Quiet Moment: (FTH #1 for @totallysilvergirl)

SH – :Against the Wall: (FTH #2 for @anarfea)

2023

SH – :Let Me Come to You: (FTH #1 for  ShakespearelovedLadyMacbeth)

SH – :Couch Cuddle: (FTH #2 for @discordantwords)

SH – :More Every Minute: (FTH #3 for @totallysilvergirl)

2024

GO – :Come On, Dear: (FTH #1 for Box Human)

GO – :You're Alright?: (FTH #2 for mltrefry)

====

And of course, you can browse all my art (primarily fanart) to see my range:

@stephdrawsjohnlock​​

stephdrawsfanart on Instagram

@stephratte​​ (Primary Multifandom Art ​Blog)

stephratte on deviantART

I will draw any ship from either of the above fandoms, though I do prefer Johnlock or the Husbands. All my work is done digitally at a minimum 2000x2000 print-ready piece in Procreate. Traditional media (markers, India ink, and pencils) is also available if you prefer, done on illustration or marker paper at the paper’s size, with the option of acquiring the original if you choose. I will also do it at a requested size if you have a preferred format for something specific (like a book cover or a comic panel). Feel free to DM me if you have any questions before bidding on me, or to see if I am able to draw what you would like!! I want you to be satisfied that I can achieve what you want!

The browsing begins on February 21, and the bidding opens on February 25! I hope I once again get a chance to do a fantastic piece for one of y’all!! I love doing this so much, so keep an eye out for the official info post link once FTH officially opens!

Thank you to everyone who is interested!

**NOTE!! If you've bid on me before and want to try again, I've changed my User Name this year to this blog's name, StephDrawsJohnlock (I-J), for easier finding once the listings are posted!

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hi everyone it's another Wednesday <3 I was tagged by the wonderful @ladytanithia @changelingsandothernonsense @lillxart @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@umbracirrus @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @sanza-17 @hircines-hunter @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

Was hoping to post some more Vevora/Aicanatr stuff but unfortunately it just ain't working rn but! I was able to get some writing done on a wip that's been sitting around since November. Below is some of my Theomar love confession rewrite <3 Man down so bad he volunteered to go to Windhelm post-Civil War as an excuse to see her <3 <3 <3 Under cut for length, one slightly horny line, and she takes that mer drinking at the Cornerclub :P

There could not be a worse time for him to fall for her, become so entangled in wanting her that it made him desire to abandon his post. But if that were a doable feat, then the standards that made him feel that way would not be as strict as they are. Their deeply grim reality did not stop the love, admitting it to himself had been like a dam bursting; the drops of sustaining professional praise could not compete with the rapids of intimacy. Her hands on his face, letting him lie on her breasts and listen to the calming sound of her heartbeat, how her legs would pull him in closer until he was- Enough. There he went getting too far ahead and wrapped up in her yet again. The sigh heard from him sounds more of a stifled groan to which he gets a confused, yet intrigued look from the Imperial woman. He provides a quick cover up. 

“My apologies, it would seem I let myself get distracted by you again.” 

“Why Commander, you really must get better about that.” No. He had no intention of pushing her from his mind, it had already proven to be a losing battle. He prayed to be freed of her to now welcome the torment, retreating further into her. If had any power in the situation, he would absolutely not be in Windhelm right now, planning how to tell this Imperial soldier that he loved her. “I wouldn’t want you losing sight of things.”

“Oh, I think you would like it very much.” Finally, he remembers her question. “And yes, I did come all this way to see you. You ran through my mind constantly these past months, how could I not take advantage of the opportunity?” 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Controlling the elation he feels is difficult, uptick in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I did think about you on occasion.” When? Despite desperately wanting to know, he refrains, content to know she has noticed his absence. “It has been a few months, it is good to see you. Despite the circumstances…” Her words trail off a bit towards the end, the similar look from before only now she does see him. Staring up at him, her left eye twitched as though she would begin crying again.  

“You wouldn’t want to join me somewhere, would you?” Please he thinks. Please let me steal you from them, just a moment Theodora. Tapping her finger to her chin, she smirks at him. 

“Hmmm, I will but only if you join me somewhere first?” Oh What did she have in mind? He assumed she knew the city better than him, maybe there was somewhere else they could go…

“Tell me what do you have in mind?”

“Well, after the day I’ve had, I need a drink.” A quick glance at their surroundings before she taps his chest. “And I imagine you could use one as well.” 

“It would not hurt.” Anything you would like. That is what he wishes to say. Have his only concern making her happy and if there would be something other than mead available. But he has far more worries than that. 

“I cannot imagine the tavern will be a safe place for us.”

“No it would not be.” Confusing the Thalmor, she laughs. “Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d go there?”

“Where do you drink then, Theodora?” 

Regret is not what he feels, sitting at a table that is continuously blasted with cold air as the patrons of this Cornerclub, as it were, shuffle in and out. Offhandedly he wonders if they were passing by him purposely, seeking out more chances to lour at him in the way only Dunmer could. The scowls form the Nords, the shifted glances half outside his vision, those were all too easy to interpret: Damn elf. Uninspired. But the Dunmer, oh the Dunmer could hate with such sincerity that as the few who uttered something in addition to their glares, they did not need to say it in the common tongue. The Dunmeris meaning of the word unknown, their tone alone conveys the intent of an insult. It’s not important for him to know exactly how he is being insulted, though he could harbour a guess or two, simply saying it for their own satisfaction. It was somewhat impressive, in a peculiar way, but nonetheless, Ondolemar is slightly impressed. Perhaps he was just glad to be in the company of mer, regardless of what type of mer they are. Yet what does rouse further intrigue in him, however, is the decidedly lack of similar treatment Theodora receives. 

Ordering in their language and going relatively unnoticed as she returns to him, two strange jars that resemble nothing he had seen before, he comments on it. Not completely surprised as why would she frequent an establishment she was not welcomed in, this is still strangely welcoming. 

“You’re well liked here.” The woman places one jar in from of him before chuckling at his notion. Lovely to hear her laugh again after the pain that marked her face when they first spoke. 

“I wouldn't go that far, Commander.”

“You wouldn’t?” 

“I wouldn’t.” She opens the jar and takes a mouthful. “But speaking Dunmeris, having lived in Morrowind even if only for a few months, it does help. Still an Imperial bastard but I don’t have to pretend to be interested in mead and a poor rendition of the Dragonborn Comes at Candlehearth Hall.” Cyrodiil natives prided themselves on being cosmopolitan but Theodora was a true example of that. 

“Clearly you get along with many different kinds of people.”

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. He himself is the most damning evidence after all, but it is humorous her assessment of her person. 

“Well, I suppose Imperial bastard is correct in the most literal sense.”

“I prefer the term love child I’ll have you know.”

"Equally true, from what you have told me." He takes the lid off the concoction in front of him. “What would I be?”

“I suppose you could go ask, I bet Ambarys would be willing to tell you to your face.” Directing his attention to the barkeep with her eyes, the Altmer instead chooses to remain with the reason he’s here at all. Less interested in what he thought of her choice in company and more in enjoying what he came all this way for; her. 

“I believe my imagination will suffice.”

[theharrowing]

MY CHELL!!!!!!!

i read this review back when you posted it but life has been so hectic that i haven't had a chance to respond 😭😭😭 but i am here now and so excited to see (once again) what you have to say.

that ursula gif tho 💀💀💀

how i picture you wiggling in your seat:

you know, i hadn't fully considered the image of Taehyung in a balaclava, but now that you mention it..........................yes.

Stroll in with a pair of bloody chopsticks and a simple, “Darling”...what a charmer.

lolol idk why this is so funny to me.

definitely manipulative to bring Jimin along. i did my best to paint it as him bringing the whole crew as man power but those of you who've been paying attention know that Jimin is not a fighter, and that at the end of the day, he is absolutely a bargaining chip.

MC comparing Yoongi and Ryujin hurts. I can see what she means but damn does it hurt to admit it. After all is said and done, Yoongi is a shady ass dude with a shaky track record in love. The way he goes about things aren’t always clear and are often very infuriating.

yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. sigh lmao. this is something i have been anticipating showing for a long time and i am glad you had thoughts.

i actually had other plans for Ateez, but i scrapped some chunks of my outline that i didn't think suited the story anymore and lost those characters in the process. now they are heeerrrreeeee haha. i also think they fit the vibe, honestly.

I love that you can include such innocent and cute scenes in between the death, sorrow and destruction. 

that's what i do hehehe.

The one on one talk went a lot better than I thought it would. MC needed to let those tears out with Yoongi and I’m more at ease that he is willing to wait for her mental health to get better. Healing takes time and having him/the guys not push for her to come home too soon means a lot.

....................we'll see how this thought has aged in chapter 24 lmao. i know you will have WORDS.

There is a subtle shift in the family dynamics or I could just be reading too much into it but with Seokjin’s bullshit out in the open, it seems to me that everyone is a little more relaxed. Not as on edge with being alive. 

you are so observant 🥰🥰🥰

your observations re: ryujin & yoongi (and ryujin & mc) are on point. definitely nothing is black and white but where are the lines drawn, and where are they grey???

I hope Yoongi puts a fucking bullet in Ryujin’s skull, right between her eyes! This slimy two-faced bitch! Harmless my ass! I want to reach through the screen and punch Ryujin myself!

THANK YOU FOR READINGGGGGGG!!!!!!!! you will get answers soon but i wonder if you will also have more questions. my hope is that from chapter 24 on, all we are doing is answering questions and letting all of the pieces finally fall into place. it's.................going to be a mess haha. SEE YOU SOOONNNN!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 😍🥰💜😍🥰💜

Collateral 🗡️ 23: This life of death and destruction

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon

🗡️ word count: 13.6k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+ 

🗡️warnings: violence (a man gets stabbed in the eye, weaponized chopsticks, blood); recreational drug use & getting drunk; vomit.

🗡️note: are we ready to continue this story??? the cast of characters has doubled in size, and i think the angst & drama has multiplied, as well. i wrote this opening scene on april 20, 2023 moments after watching the Haegeum mv. it feels good to have finally built the rest of the chapter around it over a year later. this chapter is like 80% dialogue, lol sorry. we are setting up for what is to come in the rest of the fic. enjoyyy!!!

🗡️ also note: in this chapter, mc is borrowing clothing. if you are comfortable with imagining the clothing belongs to the thin kpop idols, please do. if you are not, then please don't. i am not making assumptions or allusions to body size but instead trying to paint a picture of being at the mercy of others.

🗡️ if you have not read the Yoongi POV chapter, i strongly recommend you do so before reading this.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

“He looks hesitant,” Ryujin drawls in a bored tone. She turns to face you and her lips upturn at the edges, eyes sparkling. “Like he’s scared of what he may find when he gets here.”

The air is stiflingly hot, creating a sticky film over your skin, and your body feels heavier than it should. In this humidity, you are dizzy and agitated. More than anything, you are not ready to come face to face with the man who has caused you so much confusion and mental duress.

“Good,” you say, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Your fingers dig into your hip bones, and you do your best not to shuffle anxiously. You do not fully believe in your conviction, but you want your performance to be believable enough that the girls don't think you're weak. “He should be.”

“Looks like he brought all the family men,” she adds, turned back to watch their approach. 

Your heart flutters suddenly, wondering whether she means Jimin is there too, unable to hide the tremble in your voice as you ask, “A-all of them?”

This time, when Ryujin faces you, her expression appears contemplative, almost sad. 

“All of them,” she confirms, causing nausea and excitement to stir. 

All you can say in response is, “Oh.”

Before you can stop yourself, your feet are carrying you forward, toward the window. You do not fully approach, not wanting to be seen, so you stop as soon as you spot them walking in the street toward the noodle shop downstairs that doubles as your hideout. 

Seven figures approach in a V formation. Six of them wear ratty dark t-shirts and khaki pants, and they hold what look like juvenile weaponry—baseball bats and chains. Over their heads are balaclavas, reminding you of Christian's men. Is it meant to taunt him, you wonder. Do they think they will find him and his men here?

Yoongi is in the center, leading the charge, with no face covering and wearing a baby blue satin bomber jacket with thick white lines down the sleeves. On the breasts of the jacket are embroidered dragon heads, reminding you of Namjoon. 

Namjoon. The thought of seeing him again, like this, makes your insides stir. You feel the urge to vomit, but you hold your ground and watch as the men approach, wearing a frown on your lips. 

When the heads disappear from sight, you turn and listen for the silence that lingers in the air, save for the thrum of your pulse. A calm before a terrible storm.

Ryujin lets out a long, loud trill of a whistle—a signal, no doubt—and you listen as the 

hideout breaks out into chaos. Men scramble through the short hallway that leads out into the open space that Yoongi and his men will soon enter. 

"No guns!" Ryujin commands as she stomps through the space toward the hallway, clad in a white tank top tucked into a short black tennis skirt and tall leather equestrian boots. "You are on the defense only. Do not harm a single hair on any of these men's bodies. Do so and you die!"

As you stand near the window, you listen to the street commotion below. Vehicles drive along the narrow roads, vendors shout while ringing bells and chimes, and in the distance, a dog barks. 

You know that you will not hear the men's approaching footfalls, but you listen for them, anyway. Yoongi and the family men only need to walk through the small dining hall of the open-air restaurant below, then up a flight of stairs. You hear nothing that might give their positions away. 

"Wanna hide?" Hwasa—the nickname of your darling friend Hyejin—asks. She rests her chin on your shoulder and loosely wraps her arms around you, engulfing you in a perfume of roses and lilies.

You shake your head and mutter, "No," watching the doorway for any movement.

Finally, heavy footfalls echo through the space, giving you goosebumps, and when you hear the sounds of shouting followed by someone running into the room, you hold your breath. 

"Fuck, fuck!" a man yells as he rounds the corner and cowers, shaking like a leaf in the wind. He seems to be patting himself down for a weapon, then he sighs and squeezes his eyes closed as he presses his back to the wall. 

"Ya!" Hwasa yells, making the man gasp. "What is it?"

"B-big Duri," the man stammers, eyes wide. He shakes his head quickly as if attempting to clear away his thoughts. 

Duri is a hulk of a man who stands watch at the top of the stairs. He is as muscular as he is tall, with a bit of softness around his belly, and his towering status has earned him the title Big Duri from the other men. One snarl from him makes men cower away in fear.

"What about him?" Hwasa asks.

"He was s-stabbed," the man says, staring at the floor. "In the f-f-fucking eye."

Hwasa drops her arms from around you and stands up straight. You open your mouth to speak but find no sound can pass your lips. 

Footfalls approach, heavy and fast. You are not sure who you expect storming in from the hallway, but for some reason, it is not Yoongi. 

He walks in assuredly like he owns the place, dark hair framing his face in waves. Clenched in his right fist are two bright red chopsticks that look like the ones served at the restaurant downstairs, and you could swear the thinner ends of them are dripping with blood. 

"Darling, let's go," Yoongi says, wide eyes fixed on you. He looks like a madman with his hair somewhat disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his throat.  

You are surprised to see Yoongi dressed as he is. Under the pastel jacket is a white tee tucked into loose-fitting blue jeans. When was the last time you saw him in blue jeans? Your first trip to Hong Kong?

You heavy-blink, breaking from the thought process, and attempt to hold steady and keep cool. But you do not feel cool. Your pulse quickens, and you worry you might faint. 

"I'm staying here," you say, voice trembling. 

You half expect Yoongi to storm over and grab you by the arm. Part of you even feels saddened when he stays where he is. 

"Darling," Yoongi says, lifting his free hand to wave you over. "I'm not asking you twice."

"How many men did you kill out there?" you ask, eyes on the chopsticks that drip blood beside his dusty white sneaker. Yoongi's arm drops to his side and he heaves a weighty sigh, shoulders falling. 

Behind Yoongi, Ryujin saunters in. She grins and stands beside Yoongi, resting her head against his shoulder as she reaches for the bloodied chopsticks in his fist, saying, "You owe me a bodyguard."

Yoongi—whose eyes never leave you—throws the chopsticks to the floor, off to the side. They clatter against the uneven wood, and you wince at the thought of blood splattering. 

He mutters, "Fine." 

With that admission, you surmise that Yoongi has, indeed, stabbed Big Duri in the eye. How he managed to do so when he is so much smaller than the man is beyond you. You would be amused by the visual of Yoongi leaping onto him like a kitten if the situation were not so infuriating. 

Slowly, Ryujin lifts her head from Yoongi's shoulder. She turns her gaze to you as she says, "She doesn't want this life, Yoongi. She told you so, herself."

"Darling," Yoongi says, seemingly ignoring Ryujin, making her roll her eyes. "I will make some changes. We will figure it out. Just come home."

You shake your head. "I told you I wanted to leave."

"You are in danger," Yoongi insists, and you scoff. For the first time since you have arrived to this dingy place, there has been no hint of violence until he turned up. 

As Yoongi sighs, his nostrils flair. You can clearly see that he has something on his mind, but he remains still and silent. 

Anger rises, and you clench your fists at your sides. This is not the reunion you expected, but you cannot say you are shocked. "I told you I no longer want this life, and the first thing you do is stab a man—a good man!"

"Darling, I—" 

"Go home," you interrupt. 

Yoongi watches you, expression cold save for a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Every nerve in your body wants to propel you forward and into his arms, but you do not want to return to the home of a maniac who attacks men with chopsticks, beautiful as that maniac may be. 

"I have told you time and again that I cannot handle this life of death and destruction! And here you are, bringing it straight to my feet. Go home, Yoongi."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, raising his eyebrows. In the doorway, you see Namjoon appear, balaclava raised to his forehead. His dark grey tee is smeared with sweat and blood, and before he can open his mouth to speak, you turn around. There is absolutely no way you will be able to keep your strength if you are forced to face any more of them. 

"She wants you to leave," Hwasa says. You are grateful for her as you hear the heels of her boots against the rickety hardwood. "Now!"

"I want to speak to her," Namjoon says, and you are surprised to hear Yoongi say, "She does not wish to speak. Come on."

As their deep, low voices mutter, tears fill your eyes. You breathe in deeply, hoping to ward them off, but as you exhale, the air comes out shattered, and you know that you are only moments away from crying. 

"Tomorrow night, we can sit down and discuss matters," Ryujin says. 

You keep your eyes on the late afternoon sky, hanging on her every word. 

"Amicably," she continues. "No weapons. No hot tempers. And you have a man en route to Busan to take Duri's place when we arrive. Deal?"

"All of us?" Namjoon asks, and you fight the edges of your lips, which curl into a sad smile. 

Ryujin sighs. "Yes, all seven of you sordid little devils. Now get the fuck out of my hideout. You gave our darling a scare and I will not have her fainting because of it. I will send you a time and place, and you will show up dressed as respectable men. Seriously, what the fuck are you guys wearing? You look like trash."

Ryujin's voice fades as she continues to berate them, footsteps retreating, and it occurs to you once more that somewhere out in the chaos is Jimin. You turn, and the movement causes Yoongi's head to lift and eyes to open wide and expectantly, standing halfway in the hallway. You were not expecting him to still be here. To your disappointment, Namjoon has already left the room.

"Is Jimin here?" you ask. 

Relief floods Yoongi's face, and he cracks a smile, nodding as he says, "Yes. Come see him."

You shake your head, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. 

"Glad he's awake," you say. "Perhaps I will see you all tomorrow." 

Yoongi's expression turns sad, and you watch as he mouths the word perhaps before you turn your attention back to the window. The sound of his shoes retreating makes you want to throw up, and you swallow it down as a single tear streaks your left cheek. 

* * *

Ryujin lies on a large fur rug that she has pulled near the window. Atop the rug is a mess of blankets and pillows, and her limbs tangle with those of Hwasa and the other three girls. 

You sit arrow straight on the wide window sill, staring at the street below. The sky slowly darkens, illuminating the buildings with an orange glow that is exaggerated by the neon lights on each restaurant and storefront. 

"Yes, Yoongi," Ryujin says into her phone, playful irritation in her tone. "I swear to you there is nobody by that name in our ranks. Seokjin-oppa has already warned me about his possible presence."

You listen, hoping to hear traces of Yoongi's voice coming through the phone, but you know that it is hopeless; his dulcet tones do not exactly travel far even while in the same room as him. Muffled and at a distance, the notion is hopeless.

"You know," Ryujin continues, "you would have less to worry about if you hadn't stabbed my most trusty security guard in the fucking eye with a chopstick."

Her words make you wince, and you turn away from the window, staring at the empty wall opposite where Ryujin and the girls rest. The floral wallpaper is peeled in places and tinted brown from water damage, but otherwise, the space is clean and empty, save for six suitcases and the items Ryujin has brought in and strewn about for comfort. 

Outside of this room is a hallway that connects to more rooms, though you have not bothered to look into any of them, save for the bathroom, which is the first room to the right as you exit this one. Whatever this hideout was originally built for, you do not know, and you do not care, although you imagine at least one of the rooms could serve as office space for the restaurant below. 

A shrill laugh barks through the air, making you jump. You gaze over your shoulder to find Ryujin's head tilted back, eyes closed as she full-body laughs. 

"Don't be a fucking idiot," she says, opening her eyes to meet your gaze. "No scrub in clown paint is going to buy our little darling from me. Now get some sleep; we'll talk about this tomorrow evening, as promised."

Something about Ryujin calling you our little darling sends a chill along your spine, and you turn back to staring at nothing. She ends the call abruptly, and you hear as her phone clatters against the wooden floor, undoubtedly tossed aside. 

"Darling," Ryujin calls, voice soft and pretty, causing your shoulders to rise to your ears as if protecting you—from what, you are unsure. 

You swallow hard. "Hmm?"

Ryujin giggles. "Come. You're so tense. Relax with us."

She is correct that you are tense. You have been tense for days. When you got into her car at the airport, she said you would be here for two or three days, but it is going on a week, and you are tired of sleeping on rugs in a pile of bodies. You want to return to a bed. Any bed. 

As you turn to face Ryujin and the others, you are struck by a sense of homesickness and longing that makes your stomach churn. Hwasa and three slender beauties called Solar, Wheein, and Moonbyul crowd Ryujin, who sits up on her elbows, gaze fixed on you.

Hwasa's head is against Ryujin's left shoulder, near her breast, and she watches you, as well, gaze soft but pleading. Moonbyul, with her long, straight hair lightened to a pale gold blonde, has her head on Hwasa's tummy, curled in on her. The other two are resting similarly, with Solar clinging to Ryujin and Wheein clinging to Solar, long dark hair draped over limbs which are draped over more limbs clad in white cotton and black spandex. 

You watch them in their near-stillness, questioning where you would fit. Clearly, the five of them are tight. They call her mother, and she proudly dotes on them as if they are her precious children.

Ordinarily, you wait for everyone to begin dozing off, then you curl up on one of the outside edges, back turned from whichever woman is beside you. But you know that Ryujin wants you to be physically close to her—you can tell by the way she watches you.

What would physical closeness to a woman like her entail, you wonder. 

"So shy," Ryujin pouts. "So moody."

Hwasa, as if mirroring her energy, juts out her bottom lip. 

Ryujin tilts her head, studying you. "What does the lady require to help take the edge off?"

Although she is not explicitly saying so, you know that she is offering pills. Every day that you do not give in and crawl to Ryujin and her pile of women, she assumes it is due to some defect in your ability to relax. In a way, you suppose, she is correct. 

"Going home would take the edge off," you respond, voice flat and lacking all mirth.

Ryujin sighs, and her pretty, impish smile falls into a dramatic frown. "I, too, would like to go home. And I promise that we will, soon. Yoongi is convinced there is some third party attempting to track you down, and he has been insistent on weeding the man out. He seems to think that you are safest while remaining in hiding. I, however, think we are sitting ducks."

You hum and nod.

She sits up ever so slightly, causing the clinging women to shift along with her movement. "What do you think?"

What do you think? Such a simple, innocent question, yet it stirs an anger in you that is so deep, festering in the dark pits of you that are fed by lack of proper comfort and sleep. 

There is a part of you that wants to snap at Ryujin and ask whether she really cares what you think. You want to storm up to her, take her by the straps of her white tank top, and shake some sense into her while demanding she returns you to Korea at once. 

Another part of you worries that Yoongi is being too paranoid to think clearly and that he is making an already strange situation worse. You find it hard to believe Christian has weaseled his way into Taiwan and is lying in wait to pounce, if that is what the phone call just now suggests.

But, then again, you never would have imagined Christian would show up with a briefcase of money, nor did you expect to see him turning up to the mansion in the middle of the night. Still, the notion feels ridiculous. You're not in Korea anymore. 

You shrug, purse your lips as if you are thinking it over, and say, "I don't really know."

Truth be told, you are exhausted, catapulting emotionally from one extreme to another, finding it impossible to truly relax. You are not sure whether Ryujin has done anything to deserve your vitriol; she has kept you safe and fed, even if you are slowly succumbing to exhaustion-induced hysteria. 

Her history with Yoongi notwithstanding, she appears reasonable and kind. It is hard to hate her for her past when it has opened up Yoongi's arms to you—for better or worse. It is not as if you regret the time you have spent with him.

And, if you are being honest, you wonder whether the transgression between them was as simple as the men put it, or if there is more to her side of the story. Surely, she did not wake up one day and decide to betray the man she loved.

Or, perhaps, she is charming you the way Yoongi did. What better way to tame a wild beast than to uproot it from the comfort and safety it has grown accustomed to and force it into close proximity, giving it no other choice than to be grateful and eventually feel some semblance of love toward its captor. Maybe she and Yoongi have more in common than you realize.

The thought makes you snicker, and you stand, taking notice of how Ryujin lifts her chin and watches you. Hwasa stirs and sits up, causing Moonbyul to roll off of her with a groan and clench onto the pillow below her.

"Going to the bathroom," you say.

Hwasa stands as Ryujin sing-songs, "Buddy system," causing you to smile and roll your eyes. 

You are not allowed to do anything outside of this room—including taking a shit—without the accompaniment of one of the girls. Lucky for you, Hwasa is always willing and eager to be close.  

Hwasa tiptoes over and snakes an arm around your elbow, momentarily resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you walk. You have come to enjoy her company quite a bit, and you are relieved to have her here. 

While it was shocking to lay eyes on Hwasa after your plane landed in Taiwan, she was very clear and open about her circumstances, and you found it easy to trust her. According to her, Seokjin and Jimin gave her the position at Paradise knowing she was one of Ryujin's women, reminding you of Hyunjin and how he and his family were safe, after all. 

Yoongi may not have been working directly with Ryujin this entire time, but it seems that his men have been. And, judging by how comfortable he seemed with letting Ryujin touch him and boss him around earlier, you do not suspect that he harbors the same ill thoughts that he seemed to when you first encountered her all those months ago. 

You wonder what has changed. Has it been your presence in his life, or something more? After all the destruction Ryujin's team has caused Yoongi's family over the last several months, ending with Jimin in a coma, some sort of truce had to have been made. You have heard whispers of conversations, but you are curious about the specifics. It seems the woman who was at the helm of the destruction, Hyungseo, is not here. 

In due time, you think. You have no doubt Ryujin will open up to you.

As you and Hwasa leave the room and venture quietly into the hall, two armed men look up from the game of Chinese checkers that they play on the floor, and smile. They are beautiful, and you smile back, yanking your gaze away from them before you are able to make any more of an impression on either of them.

Admittedly, you are lonely. Physically, emotionally, sexually…and there is something in the gleams of their eyes that stirs you deeply, but you know that it is not them who do it for you. 

It is their eyes. They share the same piercing, knowing gaze of hunger and brutality that glimmers in the eyes of the family men. Your family men. 

"I think Yunho likes you," Hwasa teases, voice loud enough for him to undoubtedly hear, though you do not turn back to look. 

Instead, you press your palm against the cold metal door leading into the small bathroom and sheepishly ask, "Which one is he, again?"

A snicker comes from the floor, undoubtedly from Yunho's companion Seonghwa, and you turn as you enter the dimly lit room, grinning widely at your friend. The bathroom door swings shut, and the scents of toilet cleaner and bleach sting your nose. 

There are three toilet stalls in this room with mint green painted metal doors. The walls are a similar shade of green, and the yellow and white tiles on the floor are chipped in places.

You make your way to the sinks straight ahead and turn on the water, which is always cold, and run your hands under the stream. On the counter, in the corner, is a large black makeup case containing travel-sized toiletries for yourself and the rest of the women, and you open its lid and rummage around for your toothbrush and toothpaste. 

"How are you holding up?" Hwasa asks as you unscrew the cap from the toothpaste and squeeze a small dollop of its contents onto your bristles, careful not to take too much. 

You shrug, and rather than respond, raise the brush to your mouth. The mint is cloyingly sweet as it hits your taste buds, and you close your eyes, worried that its minty sting may tangle with your emotions and cause tears to well.

"Will you be joining Ryujin to meet with them for dinner tomorrow?"

Without opening your eyes, you begin to shake your head, not sure whether you can handle sitting at the same table with all of them. But then Jimin's bright, gleaming smile crosses your mind, and you shrug and nod. You may as well. 

Hwasa chuckles, and her hands rest softly on your shoulders before giving a gentle squeeze. All at once, you relax, dropping your shoulders and tipping your head forward, instinctively giving her permission to do anything she would like. 

As you finish brushing your teeth and tongue, she squeezes your muscles and rolls her thumbs in circles. You hold the small plastic brush between your teeth, feeling a dribble of frothy, minty spit roll down your lip to your chin, and you rest your palms against the counter until Hwasa lifts her hands away. 

"I suppose I should brush my teeth, too," she says with a pout in her tone, and you open your eyes to see her squirting some paste onto a matching toothbrush that she has written AH on in large letters for Ahn Hyejin. 

You spit, rinse, and spit some more, then use the inside of your sweaty black tank top to dab the moisture from the edges of your mouth. When Hwasa is finished, the two of you link arms once more and make your way out of the bathroom, ignoring Yunho and Seonghwa as you walk by. 

The rest of the girls, led by Ryujin, walk by in a fit of soft giggles, and you make your way to the pile of blankets and pillows, feeling physically exhausted despite being uncertain of whether you may actually be able to sleep. 

Hwasa follows and lies down beside you, beaming as she scoots nice and close and wraps an arm around your waist before you have a chance to roll away and face the wall. 

"Not so fast," she says, causing you to chuckle despite yourself. "You always roll away. Snore in my face for once."

Affronted, you attempt to wiggle out of her hold, surprised by how strong she is as she holds you in place. "I do not snore."

Hwasa rolls her eyes, says, "Everyone snores a little," and wiggles closer as her hold on you loosens—so close your noses nearly touch.

You feel too warm, and the scent of Hwasa's perfume mingling with her body heat stirs something inside you, filling you with the urge to flee. You are lonely, and she is beautiful and soft, and suddenly it feels as if all the air has been sucked from the room.

At a loss, you close your eyes. Whether you roll your body away or continue to face her, she will not create more distance because she cannot. As soon as the other girls return, they will pile into the bed, and you will feel the weight of ankles and wrists drape over you. 

"Good night, pretty dove," Hwasa sing-songs. 

You crack a smile, unable to hold back despite how dangerous it feels to allow yourself to be anything but stoic and collected for the time being. The nickname reminds you of Paradise and of Jimin, and you are unable to hold back. 

"Good night, Hyejin," you mutter in response, forgetting her nickname for the familiar one as her warmth and comfort lulls you fast into a sleep you did not expect to come. 

You actually feel…good.

* * *

The rattle and clanking of dishes and silverware have all of your nerves on high alert, causing your pulse to spike and your palms to sweat. You are acutely aware of the fact that at any moment, several men you miss and adore are going to come walking into the private dining room to join you, Ryujin, and Hwasa, and you are going to have to face them.

Each time a member of the serving staff enters, your eyes dart up in panic, and each time they bow apologetically, confusion painted across their features. Under the table, from your right, Hwasa grips onto your hand and mutters kind words that are lost over the pounding of your heart. 

When your trio arrived first, you were grateful. You assumed that by the time you waited on the arrival of the men, your nerves would have calmed and you would have composed yourself. 

But you were wrong. Oh, how you were wrong. 

With each passing second, your heart riots behind your ribs, quick and dizzying. You feel the urge to excuse yourself to the bathroom, but you are terrified of what it may do to Yoongi if he arrives to find that you are not sitting at this table. 

Food and drink are brought in. Large dishes covered in steaming meat, vegetables, rice, and noodles. Carafe after carafe is set down, and as you sit forward to peer into one of them, Hwasa says, "That is kaoliang. Fermented liquor from China." Your mouth begins to water, but you are not sure you are ready just yet to start drinking. 

Shadows linger outside the door to the private room, tall and wide blobs obscured by the privacy glass. Ryujin glances at her watch, mutters, "Fucking finally," and stands, causing Hwasa to stand as well. 

You remain glued to your seat. Even if you wanted to stand, you are not sure you would be able to. 

As the door slides open, your heart pounds. Seokjin enters with a smirk and a bow of his head, followed by Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jeongguk, Namjoon, and finally, Yoongi. 

Jimin beams, eyes and mouth wide and happy, and he rounds the table in a rush, pushing past Ryujin, who attempts to pull him into a hug. Your eyes fill with tears, and as you finally get onto your feet, legs wobbling beneath you, the tears spill, streaking your cheeks. 

You stumble and crash into the papered wall from the force of Jimin's hug, elbow scraping and stinging, but you do not care. Jimin smells and feels so familiar, and you sob in his arms, burying your face into his black lapel and letting out a deep, shattered breath.

"Oh my god," you manage to mutter against his shoulder, and he tries to loosen the hug to hear you speak, but you shake your head like a petulant child and pull him closer, refusing to let go. "I was so scared, Jimin. I thought I might never— I've missed you so much."

Voices greet one another, and chairs scrape across the floor, signaling that the others have begun to find their seats. This time, when Jimin begins to release the hug, you allow him, dropping your hands from his shoulders but holding them loosely around his hips.

Jimin's eyes are glassy with tears, and hair is slightly longer, almost grown out into a mullet. For the first time since you have met him, it is brown, and you mutter, "Nice hair," while doing your best to smile widely despite still crying. 

He grimaces at you, lifting his hands to thumb away the moisture under your eyes. Then he leans in, kisses the tip of your nose, and says, "All better, dove."

"Thank you," you whisper, sound lodged in your throat, then you release Jimin for good and pivot to take your seat, taking a deep breath before allowing your eyes to fall on the rest of the men. 

To your surprise and dismay, you find Ryujin sitting across from you with her eyebrows raised and a sharp, devious smile playing on her lips. To her left is Hwasa, and to her right is Jeongguk. You do not need to look to see that Yoongi and Namjoon have taken the seats on either side of you because of course, they have. Where else would they be?

But you do look. You sweep the sprawling rectangular table, starting with Namjoon at your left, then Hoseok, with Seokjin at the far end, where you anticipated Yoongi might sit. Past Seokjin is Taehyung, then Jeongguk, then Ryujin, who is leaning to the side and whispering something to Hwasa, whose hand reaches to where Jimin sits on the other far end. 

Jimin inspects Hwasa's rings and nails, dainty fingers tracing delicate lines. When she turns back to look at him, there are tears in her eyes, and you realize belatedly that she has missed him, as well. Of course, she has.

You do not look at Yoongi, gaze ending with Jimin. Yoongi clears his throat, causing Ryujin to stand, and—feeling uncomfortable with also standing while she speaks—you quickly have a seat. 

Ryujin bows her head, hair pulled in a tight bun at the back of her head. She, matching Hwasa, wears a black suit with a white silk blouse, blending in with the black suits and black satin undershirts the men wear. You are the odd one out in a sleek black evening gown; Ryujin was insistent. At least it, too, is satin. 

"Gentlemen," Ryujin says, and all at once, the men stand, bow their heads, and sit, including Yoongi, who scoots in close beside you. "Thank you for joining us tonight. I trust you have found us a replacement bodyguard?"

Yoongi hums a gruff, low note, and you are acutely aware of his presence by your side. His scent—earthy and musky, ever so slightly tinged with citrus—sneaks past the savory blend of food smells and floods your senses. You swallow a lump of trepidation that has crept its way to your throat. 

"First of all, I would like to thank you for trusting me with taking care of our little darling," Ryujin says, turning to look at Seokjin. She remains standing. "As you are all aware, things between Yoongi and I have not always been easy. But, moving forward, I would like for all of us to remain amicable."

At this, Ryujin's eyes land on Yoongi. She appears fierce and ruthless in the way she looks down at him, lips upturned as if to show that she is enjoying this position of power. 

You glance from the corner of your eye to find that Yoongi peers back up at her, sitting tall on the edge of his seat. His expression is blank, as is to be expected. There is a long pause during which you wish someone would speak or move to eat or drink—anything to cut through the tension.

Finally, Yoongi folds his arms over his chest and sits back, shifting his weight in a more relaxed position. He clears his throat, and you turn your gaze to the piles of meats, vegetables, noodles, and rice. 

It sounds as if Yoongi attempts more than once to speak but struggles to find the words. At this, Namjoon sits forward, pulling your attention to the left, and he asks, "May I?"

Ryujin's face lights up. "Of course, Joonie-oppa. The floor is yours."

"Firstly, thank you for your hospitality. The hideout was certainly difficult to locate—"

Ryujin snickers. At this, Jeongguk stands, facing her, "Look, noona, if you would have answered your phone, we never would have shown up there with—"

"Sit down," Ryujin snaps, turning a playful but intense glare on Jeongguk, whose mouth snaps shut as he takes his seat. Beside him, Taehyung snickers. "I didn't answer my phone because I wanted to converse with her before making any choices, and you idiots acted irrationally."

At the word her, Ryujin lifts her hand and gestures to you, momentarily pulling your gaze. Although you do not glance around, you are certain that all heads turn to look your way, causing you to shift uncomfortably in your seat while you begin watching droplets of condensation streak your water glass.  

"Pardon us for being concerned," Yoongi responds, voice tense and pained. 

This seems to quell whatever emotion that has Ryujin acting defensive, and she slowly takes her seat and reaches for the bottle of kaoliang. All seem to be waiting for her response, and she takes her time lifting her glass to her lips and sitting back in her chair. 

"Nobody faults you for being concerned, oppa. But you need to be more considerate of the reason she has come to me in the first place."

Yoongi must open his mouth to speak once more because Ryujin lifts her hand to stop him before she continues. 

"Yes, I know that you are concerned for her safety, especially in the wake of some mysterious man from her past showing up out of nowhere. But she was already planning on leaving for mental health reasons. So maybe storming in with chopsticks blazing is not the wisest way to reunite with someone who is already shell-shocked from all the other bullshit she has had to witness."

"Some of the bullshit was at the hands of your people," Namjoon interjects. 

Ryujin levels her gaze on him. "The most heinous bullshit, I would imagine. And as you can see, Hyungseo is not present. I am dealing with her, and Seokjin, Yoongi, and I have already discussed ways I can help with harm reduction."

Your gaze moves to the right, to Jimin, and you are surprised to find he is already looking at you. You smile, unable to stop the tears that form from how relieved you are that he is alright. 

"I know that trust has been tarnished between our families, and that myself and my girls have taken things too far," Ryujin admits. "I sent my people out to scare you, and they did so much more than that. I will never stop feeling sorry for what has happened. Not a night has gone by that I have not been filled with regret over someone so precious to all of us becoming seriously injured."

Ryujin lifts an arm, reaches over Hwasa, and holds out her hand to Jimin. He takes it without hesitation. 

"He could have died," Jeongguk says, brows knit in a frown. 

Ryujin sighs. "I know this, Ggukie. And I am so, so sorry. I am determined to quash any bad blood and begin earning your respect. Tomorrow we leave for Busan. Once we are all back home, Serendipity will be opened for a night of drinking, drugs…whatever you heathens do."

To your surprise, many of the men snicker, amused. 

"Seokjin and Hoseok already have a security team on standby so that you are not only relying on my people to keep you safe," Ryujin continues. "The era of family feuding is over. I am happy with my little piece of the peninsula, and I want drug operations to continue in a way that is lucrative for both of us. We will remain your first line of defense in the harbor, and in return, all that I ask is that we get free reign in Seoul to come and go."

Yoongi clears his throat. "If Sunmi-noona will accept the offer, she can be your liaison in the city once more."

At this, a mischievous smirk tugs on Ryujin's lips. She gives Jimin's hand a squeeze before releasing it, then raises both elbows to the table to cradle her chin in her hands. "Tell me, oppa. Why does Sunmi-unnie spit at my feet whenever I mention your name?"

Yoongi says nothing. 

Rather than press him, she winks, then reaches for a large metal spoon and begins to fill her dish. Everyone hesitates, and it is Jeongguk who breaks the tension and follows suit, scooping food onto Taehyung's plate and causing the others to act in kind. You sit still, unsure whether you have an appetite. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks at the same time two fingers gently caress the back of your arm. 

Your evening gown is a form-hugging halter top with a low back, leaving your skin open to soft, delicate assaults like the ones Yoongi likes to conduct in gentle motions. You flinch but try not to pull your arm away, worried about hurting his feelings.

Yoongi chuckles softly. "Are you not hungry?"

You shake your head but mutter, "I don't know."

"Should I have sat elsewhere?" he asks. He shifts as if he is looking over and around you, and you imagine he is speaking nonverbally to Namjoon. 

The room is too bright, the food and cologne smells are too numerous, and the sounds of voices and silverware and porcelain are too loud. You raise your shoulders to your ears, then turn toward Yoongi, still unable to meet his eye as you ask, "Can we talk somewhere else?"

Yoongi stands, says, "Excuse us for just a moment," and waits for you. 

As you stand, you catch Ryujin's eye. She appears concerned and places her palms on the table as if ready to stand and defend you. 

You nod and say, "We'll be right back," and watch as she relaxes. 

A warm palm presses against your lower back, and Yoongi guides you toward the door, out into a small hallway, and to the left. The restaurant's main dining hall is to the right, and you are thankful to walk in the opposite direction, not sure whether you can handle another person's eyes on you. 

Yoongi walks into an empty private dining room, switches on the light, and holds out his arm for you to enter. As you step inside, you hear him conversing softly with who you assume to be an employee, and then he joins you, closing the door behind him.

As you stand and face the large, empty dining room, you expect Yoongi to touch you or prod you into speaking. Perhaps you expect him to beg you to return home. Instead, he seems to be waiting.

After only a handful of seconds, you decide you cannot take it anymore. Every ounce of you yearns for Yoongi, and knowing he is so close and being so patient has you reeling. You turn and quickly step toward him, reaching for his lapels and burying your face against his chest. He smells like home, and as he wraps his arms around you, warmth fills your chest, and you begin to cry.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I'm sorry I had to leave. I miss you, Yoongi, but I can't stand being there. I can't do it."

"Shh," Yoongi whispers, lips pressing to your temple, causing you to cry harder. It has only been a week, and yet you feel as if you have been away from him for so long. 

"I'm sorry we keep creating distance. I don't know how to make it work out. I'm so scared, Yoongi." You are fumbling, mouth on autopilot, dredging up each time you and Yoongi were apart, feeling somehow responsible for everything despite knowing you have always only done your best. 

"Yesterday was a mistake," Yoongi says, peppering kisses from the crown of your hair to your cheek and back up. "I was terrified and not in my right mind. You left in a frenzy, and then there was that letter, and it all been very confusing—"

You sniffle loudly, letting out a sound that halfway sounds like a laugh. "Oh my god, the letter. I'm so sorry."

Yoongi chuckles, gently grabs your shoulders, and pries you away from his chest. You allow him to move you, and you stand straight but keep your eyes on his black satin shirt. You do not want to see his scar or the pretty way in which his eyes downturn when he is sad. 

His voice is soft and conspiratorial as he says, "I almost killed Seokjin after I found it."

With wide, surprised eyes, you look up, unable to hold back any longer. Yoongi's smile is loving and big, and his eyes sparkle with happiness, making your stomach roil with uncertainty. His scar is still so red against his soft skin, but it adds so much to his allure and beauty.

"I was under the impression you were running away with Barom, what with the timing of it all. You packed a bag, left behind all of our gifts, and disappeared into the night the moment he arrived."

Despite Yoongi's high spirits, you shake your head somewhat desperately. "I wrote it earlier that day, thinking I might run away a night or two later. I was scared that if I said goodbye, I wouldn't be able to leave." Tears build once more, and your body goes limp, hanging against the weight of Yoongi's hands. "Yoongi, I'm so—"

"Alright, no more sorries," Yoongi says, pressing against your shoulders enough to signal that he would like you to stand up and get your shit together. "Seokjin explained your conversations and motives to us already, and I have long since forgiven the both of you. I understand why you felt you had to sneak away. Remember when I went missing in Hong Kong? I was also in the midst of a mental health crisis, darling. I have no hard feelings."

You straighten out and search Yoongi's eyes for any hint of dishonesty, but all you find is a soft, loving gaze looking back at you. With a relieved sigh, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, pressing the side of your cheek against his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart. 

"I love you," you say, feeling the words fill you with warmth. 

Yoongi drapes one arm over your shoulders and rests his other hand against the back of your head. "I love you, too," he says. "And if you need time and space, I will give it to you. Despite everything, I trust the girls to take good care of you."

"Is it weird?" you ask, pulling out of the hug and stepping back only far enough to see Yoongi's face. His only response is to raise one eyebrow. "Being around her again, I mean. Was she always so bossy?"

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head. "I suppose it is a little weird, but we were friends first and foremost, and being friendly with her again feels easy. She has not always been that bossy, per se, but she has always been strong-willed enough to face all seven of us down the way she did tonight."

This makes you laugh, and you lean into Yoongi once more, tilting your head to press your lips to his throat, just under his chin. 

"Thank you," you say. Yoongi hums, and you add, "For giving me time and space. For being understanding. That night was a fucking mess, and I have been really scared for what the aftermath may look like."

"No hard feelings," Yoongi repeats. "As long as you are happy."

All at once, you are flooded with myriad thoughts. Are you happy? This last week, while being more or less calm on your nerves, has also been lonely and strange. Would you feel better if you cut your losses and went back home to your men, where everything felt familiar again? Could you cycle through medications until finding the magical cocktail that would allow you to be whole again?

No, you think. Probably not. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, voice soft and uncertain. "I don't know how long I might need. I can't promise—"

Yoongi kisses your forehead, pressing his lips slowly as he hums. He says, "I'm sure. We can figure it out one day at a time."

With everything out in the open, your stomach pangs with hunger. You smile and ask, "Can we go eat now?" and you are delighted when Yoongi smiles with relief and says, "Yes, of course."

With his thumbs, Yoongi rubs below your eyes. His hands linger on your cheeks, and you expect him to lean forward and kiss you, but he drops his hands a beat later, then grabs onto one of yours and asks, "Shall we?"

Yoongi leads the two of you back to the dining room, and as you enter, you are pleased to find the entire table has erupted into pleasant conversation. Jeongguk's arm is draped over Ryujin's chair while Hwasa emphatically tells them a story, and Jimin is leaning close, listening with his chin propped onto his hands. 

Taehyung is explaining something while glancing between Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok, and as you and Yoongi round the table and return, nobody acknowledges the two of you until you take a seat and Namjoon—eyes still on Taehyung—gently places a hand on your knee. 

It is only when you begin to reach for half-empty bowls of food that Namjoon takes your plate in his hand that you realize how long it has been since the two of you have spoken. You are once again overwhelmed with emotion and fight the urge to say sorry a hundred more times. 

Instead, he points with a large metal spoon and says, "Both of these dishes have a tangy garlic sauce, but this one is a bit more spicy."

"I'd like to try both," you say, watching as Namjoon spoons a heap of chicken with vegetables onto your dish, followed by a heap of tofu and peanuts with vegetables in a slightly redder sauce full of chopped red peppers. 

As Namjoon sets your plate in front of you, you reach with your long metal chopsticks with the intent to gather some noodles from a dish that is across from Yoongi, out of Namjoon's reach. However, Yoongi takes the dish and begins to scoop some onto a smaller plate for you, and you sit back with a smile and wait for him to finish. 

"Still having those dreams?" Namjoon asks.

You know in an instant that he is referring to the dream that you wrote about in your letter, and you feel silly as you bite your bottom lip and nod. 

"That has to be really stressful," he says, reaching for a pitcher of water to fill his empty glass. 

You smile sadly, imagining his white shirt filling with blood. It is stressful, but— "On the plus side, I get to see you."

As you lift your gaze to meet Namjoon's, his furrowed brow and wilted frown gently lift, not quite into a smile, but at least something a bit more relaxed. 

"Hi," you say softly, taking in Namjoon's familiar, beautiful face.

His smile widens, creasing his cheeks with dimples. He mutters, "Hey, you," and the soft, dulcet tone of his voice fills your chest with warmth. 

You open your mouth to tell him that you love him. That you miss him. That you're sorry for leaving. So, so sorry. 

But Ryujin loudly asks, "Caviar?" pulling the attention of everyone at the table. 

Behind her, waitstaff hold new plates, and everyone nods in agreement before continuing their conversations. And although you could pour your heart out now, Hoseok steals Namjoon's attention away, and you decide the moment has passed.

Food and drink continue to appear in waves, and suddenly, you are tipsy and full and tired. Namjoon stands to walk around the table and have a quiet conversation with Ryujin, and Jimin seizes the opportunity to steal his seat. He and Jeongguk discuss business operations at Paradise while you rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes listening to the sound of his voice. He is alive. He is awake. 

He speaks slower, and there is a rough quality to his voice that was not present before. It seems to take him more time to process what is said to him, and he reacts as if on a delay. But he is here and alive and awake. 

Only when more kaoliang is poured, and Ryujin raises a toast do you sit up and take your cup. You barely hear what she shouts, booze and excitement slurring her speech, but you make out the words together, family, and happy, and you tap your small glass against as many as you can reach before shooting the strong liquid down.

A large, warm hand rests on your right knee, and as you set down your empty glass, you turn to find Yoongi watching you, glassy-eyed with a smile on his lips. You attempt to smile back but instead, swallow thickly and search for something to say. Luckily, he speaks first.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it has been without you at home?” Yoongi’s gaze becomes pained but remains soft, tugging at your heart. 

And although the sentiment is sweet, you are unable to ignore the impossibility of his question. In fact, for some inexplicable reason—you suppose you must blame the alcohol—you become somewhat annoyed.

You ask, “How could I possibly know that? And anyway, don't you have your hands full as it is?”

Across the table, Jeongguk snickers. It takes Yoongi a second to react, and you are glad when the corners of his lips raise into another smile, even if just for a second. 

“Being around those girls has made you sassier than you were before, darling,” he mutters under his breath. 

You roll your eyes. “It has only been a week, darling.”

Leaning close, elbows on the table, Yoongi lowers his voice and says, “It only took me about a week to begin wearing you down.”

Arousal stirs from the tone of his voice, but so does your stomach. Being kidnapped and worn down is not exactly a topic that you delight in discussing. You must not show your dissatisfaction, however, because Yoongi leans in close and presses a soft, warm kiss against your cheek. 

As the raucous dinner comes to an end and you begin to wish everyone a safe trip home, Jeongguk finally approaches. You have been holding back the urge to kick him in the shin all night, feeling somewhat scorned by his lack of attention. 

"So you're going to stay with the girls?" he asks, standing close enough to wrap you in an embrace but keeping his arms to his sides.

You nod and find it hard to hold his eye contact, looking down at his satin-clad shoulder instead. Jeongguk lifts a hand and delicately places two fingers under your chin, tilting your head until you look him in the eyes. The contact of his skin against yours sends an electric current through you, and you shiver. 

"Call me if you need anything. I can be to Busan in a matter of hours."

Sheepishly, you glance down again and mutter, "I don't have anyone's number anymore."

Jeongguk drops his hand, turns to the left, and says, "Seokjin-hyung! What the fuck, man?"

Arguing ensues, but you are too distracted by Namjoon wrapping his arms around your side and pressing his lips to your neck. Suddenly, your bones are jelly, and you stumble to the right, leaning your weight against his embrace. Yoongi joins, taking your chin in his hand in a similar fashion to Jeongguk, and tilting your lips against his. 

"We'll be ready whenever you are," Namjoon insists, lips grazing over your skin. "Whatever you need…please don't shut us out."

Somewhere behind Namjoon, Seokjin shouts, "Yah! I'll upload everyone to her contact list. Quit fussing!"

"Okay," you mutter while smiling against Yoongi's retreating mouth, unable to find anything more substantial to say despite it all lying in wait at the tip of your tongue all night. 

"We miss you," Yoongi says, pressing another kiss against your temple. "But we can wait if that is what you need."

Tears well and you fight the urge to sob. Not here, you tell yourself. Not now. You have already cried so much.

You hug everyone, even Seokjin and Hoseok. Jeongguk attempts to play it cool, but he stares at your lips the entire time, and you practically beg him to kiss you before ultimately letting him walk away. Jimin litters your cheeks and temples with loud, wet smooches, causing you to giggle and shriek. 

Taehyung asks about your medication, making your heart ache from his kindness. You briefly inform him that you have been having no dizzy spells, and he promises to send you more medication as soon as you are in Busan. 

Finally, Namjoon and Yoongi pull you into another three-way hug and take turns kissing your lips, cheeks, and forehead. They mutter soft, sweet phrases that you only make out the tones of, feeling the whooshing of your pulse as you begin to question whether you are making a huge mistake and should just grab your shit and go home. 

And then, all waving and clambering out the door haphazardly, they are gone, and the room is quiet. 

You sigh and glance around at the dregs of food and alcohol, feeling simultaneously full and empty in more ways than one. Tears fill the edges of your eyes, and you do your best not to blink, worried that any movement will cause them to spill. 

Ryujin sighs loudly. "Alright, well, this was fun and all, but I want to get fucking laid. You girls down for a night on the town?"

You glance down at your outfit, ready to complain, only you look good enough to go to a nightclub and find you have nothing to say to the contrary. You even wear a pair of cozy black ballet slippers, which you slid on while feeling unsure whether you could handle so many tumultuous emotions while wearing heels, and for that, you are grateful. 

"Sure," you utter while turning to Hwasa, who has a drunk but devious grin tugging on her lips. Her smile widens and she claps excitedly.

The drive to the nightclub is long, and you are exhausted by the time you arrive, having been fading in and out of a stupor. You feel more drunk than you had earlier, and you are tempted to suggest taking a cab back to the hideout alone. Of course, that would never fly. You can already hear Ryujin singing buddy system in your head.

Hwasa eagerly pulls you from the back of the car and chuckles as she rubs her fingertips along the edge of your hairline and says, "Poor sleeping beauty. We'll get you something that will wake you up, okay?"

You respond with a halfhearted smile and nod, and she takes your hand in hers and yanks you to the door, not bothering to stop for the security guard who, to your surprise, makes no move to stop you either. Inside, loud bass-heavy club music plays, and you are led through a series of hallways until you enter a large room full of the rest of Ryujin's girls and a group of men. 

The room is dark and somewhat hazy, lit by strips of purple lights along the ceiling and floor. Short two or three-person sofas line the mirrored walls and are dispersed throughout the space, most of which are occupied. On tables set beside each sofa are bottles of champagne and piles of cocaine, with glasses large and small scattered throughout and topped with small lamps that emit very little light.

Ryujin approaches a man sitting amidst the chaos by himself, sitting hunched over with his elbows on his knees, thumbing through his cell phone. You are curious whether these men are people she knows, and you watch to see how familiar she is with the lone man, but Hwasa steps in your line of vision and takes your chin in both of her hands. 

"Coke?" she asks. 

You want to say no, proud of yourself for being off the shit for as long as you have been away from home. But you are certain that without it, you will not survive this night, so you nod and allow yourself to be tugged further into the room, to an unoccupied table. 

"Don't worry, this is from our stash," Hwasa says as she picks up a discarded rolled-up 100-dollar Taiwanese bill and tightens it between her finger and thumb. "Moon and Solar were in charge of overseeing the distribution process."

You mutter, "How generous," doing your best to smile, and watch as Hwasa snorts a small pile into one nostril and then the other. When she hands the bill to you, you take in a deep, slow breath, and let it out, then lean forward to snort from the edge of the pile first into your left nostril and then your right.

As you let the bill fall to the table and tip your head back, sniffing in again on each side, you ask, "Does Ryujin know these men?"

"Mmhmm," Hwasa hums as she fills two glasses with champagne and hands one to you. "A few of these guys worked at Paradise while I was there, and some of them are from Serendipity. Maybe you know them."

"Oh," you say, pulling the glass to your lips but stopping to ask, "How did they end up here?"

Hwasa purses her lips and tilts her head, making a show of how hard she is trying to conjure the answer to your question. Then her eyes widen and she says, "Oh! Some guy started to come around to Serendipity and just sort of gathered the rest of these guys up as, like, a posse. I don't really know what they do, to be honest, but they always dress up in matching suits and cover their faces, which is creepy as hell."

Your stomach tenses, and you feel too anxious to turn your head to the left and figure out who Ryujin is talking to. Although you know that there is absolutely no way in hell it is Christian, something about the description of the men reminds you of his men, and you begin to wonder whether there really was credence to Yoongi's worry surrounding the possibility of Christian being on this island.

"What's his name?" you ask, voice barely loud enough to be heard over the music. 

"Hmm?" Hwasa asks into her champagne glass as she leans closer. 

You begin to glance over to where Ryujin and the man are, but your heart pounds so hard, you worry you might be sick if you see him. 

"The man who gathered all the guys, from Serendipity, " you say, leaning closer. 

"What's his name?"

"Oh," Hwasa says, taking a slow slip of her champagne while her wide, dark eyes stare past you. She blinks owlishly, then pulls the glass from her lips and says, "He has a nickname…Insanity? Something like that."

Unable to stop yourself, your head flies to the left, searching the features of the man whose lap Ryujin has claimed with her legs. His nose is sharp and somewhat hooked, and it is not a familiar shape. Worried, you glance around the room, but there is no sign of Christian, as far as you can tell. 

"Something the matter?" Hwasa asks, touching fingertips to your arm and making you nearly drop your glass of champagne. 

You must look frantic when you turn back to her, based on the fear that pulls at her pretty features. You blink and wet your lips, shaking your head. Unconvincingly, judging by the way her brows knit and she continues to stare at you. 

"I just..." you swallow thickly and glance around the room once more, slowly scanning every face you can see. "I just thought he sounded familiar."

Hwasa makes a small sound, and you scan several more faces before returning your gaze to her and asking, "Huh?"

"It's just," she says, uncertain, "well, I heard he was previously working on Jeongguk's team, back when he was a drug runner. So…maybe he is familiar?"

Something is not adding up. Although Seokjin mentioned that he has kept Christian around to do whatever he pleases, it seems odd that he would be known to these women as someone who was once part of Jeongguk's team. As you recall from the day you were taken to the mansion, he did not seem to perform his drug-running duties to Yoongi's liking. Did Seokjin keep him on Jeongguk's team even after that day? Could he have had something to do with the group of men Jeongguk massacred with kunai knives for fucking him over?

You stare at your glass of champagne trying to make all the pieces fit, but it feels like you are missing a huge chunk of information. 

Hands touch your shoulders, causing you to jump. You mutter, "Shit," under your breath at the same time Ryujin's high, somewhat mocking laughter fills your left ear. 

"So sorry to scare you, pretty darling," she slurs, sounding quite inebriated. 

"Don't worry about it," you say, attempting to loosen your posture. Ryujin's hands remain on your shoulders and you do not want her to feel how tense you are. But then she squeezes your shoulders and you close your eyes, this time succeeding in relaxing. 

"How do you feel after such an emotional dinner?"

"Good," you respond while her thumbs circle over your muscles. You wonder whether she is the reason Hwasa always gives massages. Or perhaps it is the other way around. "And, I don't know. I guess also conflicted. Homesick."

Ryujin's hands fall away and she rests her chin on your left shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around yours and pinning yours to your sides. Hwasa busies herself pouring a third glass of champagne. 

"You really like them, hmm?" Ryujin asks. 

"Yeah," you say, possibly too quiet for how loud the music in this room is. "Most of them, anyway."

The last part is a joke. You like Seokjin and Hoseok just fine, but you are certainly not as close to them as you are to the others. Taehyung, too, for that matter, although he has had the pleasure of watching his boyfriend rail you, which has formed its own kind of bond between the two of you. 

"What is your relationship with the guys?" she asks. 

Hwasa hands her a glass, and she releases her hold on you and takes it, muttering a soft, "Thank you." 

You turn to face Ryujin. Although you still hesitate to become too close to her, you do feel comfortable in her presence, all things considered. If Yoongi is willing to trust her again, then perhaps you should be, too. 

"Yoongi, Namjoon, and I are a thing." After a pause, you add, "And…sort of Jeongguk."

Ryujin's mouth falls open and she gasps. "I need to know more!"

You feel your cheeks become hot, and you pick up your glass of champagne, which Hwasa has filled. But rather than explain, you ask something that has been on your mind for a while.

"Before, when you and Yoongi were together, was Namjoon…" Unsure how to finish the sentence, you trail off. Luckily, Ryujin knows just what you mean. 

She nods. "Yes. Romantically, those two have always been the closest. Namjoon and I were never super physical. We were just very, very comfortable around one another because of Yoongi."

Interesting. You suppose this makes sense, remembering a conversation between you and Jimin a while back when he told you about how marrying Ryujin was a means to an end more than anything else. 

"Yoongi and I were meant to bring two families together. And, don't get me wrong, we were physically and emotionally attracted to one another. But we also had more fulfilling relationships on the side. For Yoongi, it was Namjoon."

"And for you?" you ask before you can stop yourself. 

Ryujin smiles wide, but then it falls to a frown. She shakes her head. "Doesn't matter. Nobody you know."

You nod and accept her answer. You suppose that perhaps the two of you are not that close, yet. In tandem, you and Ryujin raise your glasses to drink. But then she yells, "Oh!" and you startle enough to nearly spill your champagne onto yourself. "Jeongguk, though! What happened with him?"

You tip your head back and chug the rest of your bubbly. It is truly miserable to drink quickly, and you instantly regret your decision, feeling the carbonation sloshing around in your guts. 

"We, uh…" you begin, feeling shy. Why do you feel shy?

"You should see those two," Hwasa interjects, causing your face to heat even more. "They bicker like children but then circle one another like feral animals. I can only imagine their chemistry behind closed doors."

Affronted, your mouth falls wide. "We what? No we do not!"

Hwasa nods, grinning. "Yes, you do! I thought the two of you were fucking for sure when I first started working for Jimin. I was shocked to learn Jeongguk was with Taehyung and you were with Yoongi."

"And Namjoon," Ryujin supplies. 

Hwasa's grin widens. 

You raise your hands to your face as if to hide. This day has been exhausting, and these two are giggling at your expense like a couple of school girls. 

"Oh, stop," Hwasa says as one of your hands is tugged down from your face. You open just the one eye, keeping the other closed tight behind your palm. "Everyone wants a piece of your ass. Don't be shy about it! Embrace it."

With a sigh, you shake your head. "Not everyone," you groan, feeling defensive.

"Everyone with eyes," Ryujin says, waggling her eyebrows while Hwasa makes kissy noises. "I would shoot my shot if you weren't already so taken."

Hwasa nods and says, "Me too!"

Suddenly, it is too warm and too loud in here. "I need a stronger drink!" you declare, making both women laugh. 

You take a step back and turn, moving in autopilot toward the door before realizing you have no idea where you are nor where a bar in this building is. 

Ryujin takes your right hand and yanks you gently back, sing-songing, "Ah, ah, ah, not by yourself."

"Alright," you concede, interlocking your fingers with hers. As you begin to walk toward the exit, your left hand is engulfed and you glance to find Hwasa is coming along. 

You exit the mirrored room and turn right, taking a dark hallway about halfway and then turning right once more, through a thick black curtain that is guarded by two men on the other side. There is a bar directly to the right, and Ryujin tugs you to the counter and orders a bottle of whiskey that you do not catch the name of. 

With a nod, the bartender grabs an unopened bottle from a high shelf and then delicately stacks three medium-sized glasses. Hwasa takes the glasses, Ryujin takes the whiskey, and your hands remain held by both of theirs. 

Back in the mirrored room, you return to the table off to the right, toward the back. The girls release your hands to pour three drinks, and you fidget by pinching the satin of your skirt between your thumbs and knuckles, suddenly feeling antsy. 

"Cheers," Ryujin declares as she slides a drink in front of you. You take it, hold it up, and tap it against their glasses, then pull it to your lips and smell the strong, bittersweet liquid before taking a sip. 

The potent, boozy caramel flavor that you have come to expect is accented by a hint of something earthy, possibly wood. You take a bigger drink, hold it on your tongue, allowing your taste buds to open and fully experience the onslaught as they adjust, and then you swallow it down. 

"Tomorrow, we return to Busan," Ryujin says for the second time tonight as the whiskey flows down into your chest, filling you with warmth. You look forward to being at a proper home rather than on some random floor in a balmy, empty building. 

"I'm looking forward to seeing your home," you say, sounding far more meek than you intend to.

"I'm looking forward to hosting you."

Hwasa leans her elbows on the table and says, "You finally get to have your own room. That is, of course, unless you want to stay with me."

The playful smile on Hwasa's face, paired with her tired and intoxicated bloodshot eyes is almost enough to make you melt. Almost enough to make you follow her into any room she wants to lead you into. 

When you shrug and say, "Honestly, I may be too lonely to sleep alone," you are being brutally honest, and not all all flirtatious. 

"I can even decorate it like your room in the mansion," Ryujin says. "Is it still yellow?"

Her words halt your movement of lifting your glass back to your lips. "How did you know that?"

Ryujin rolls her eyes and says, "Please, nothing about that man has changed, down to the way he likes to outfit you. It's exactly as it was seven years ago."

Bile swirls around in your tummy, and you set the glass down on the mirrored table with a clank that is louder than you intend. Could that be true? Is Yoongi really outfitting you in the same fashion he was outfitting her all those years ago. 

Hwasa clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and swats at Ryujin's arm, muttering, "Mother, don't say things like that to her," under her breath. 

You shake your head, determined to not show how strange the information makes you feel. But Ryujin turns, pouts dramatically, and wraps her arms around you. 

"Oh, sweetie, I don't mean to suggest he was trying to turn you into a second me. He just seems to have the same tastes and fashion sense, is all. Trust me, he loves you way more than he could ever love me. I can tell."

You have no idea whether Ryujin is being truthful or trying to make you feel better, but you decide that either way, you see no use in dwelling on it. You are going to be living under her roof for the foreseeable future, and becoming upset whenever she says something a little too blunt, snippy, or insensitive is not going to get you anywhere. 

With a nod, you say, "I know. Don't worry." But it only makes her squeeze you tighter. 

"Just look at his bullshit excuse for taking you home with him," she says. "Collateral, my ass."

What an odd statement. You ask, "What do you mean?" But what you really mean to say is what do you know?

"The man takes you as so-called payment from your ex but then spends millions of dollars on a wardrobe, an armored vehicle, the most lavish birthday party in all of Seoul. Make it fucking make sense!"

Ryujin releases the hug, and as soon as you are free, you slam back your whiskey and pick up the 100-dollar bill, squeezing it tighter into a tube. Ryujin whoops and claps as you lean close and snort from the edge of the cocaine pile into your left nostril and then your right. 

"Mommy needs some, too," she says as she takes the bill from your hand and leans forward. 

You tip your head back and raise a knuckle to each nostril, sniffing deeply to make sure none of the drug is stuck inside your nose cavity, then you stand up straight, stretching your back by pushing forward your chest, and reach for the bottle of whiskey. 

"Partying so hard without me?" a male voice asks from behind you, and you nearly drop the bottle. 

The tone, the accent, and the cadence all confirm your fears are true.

"Christian?" you mutter as you spin, and you almost do not believe your eyes. 

From the expression he wears and the way his gaze falls to the floor, eyes widening as they lift to your face, you wager he also cannot believe his. 

Christian steps forward and you take a step back, elbow hitting the table and causing you to grip tighter to the bottle of whiskey. 

"Barom-oppa!" Ryujin shouts as she pounces on Christian, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

"Hey there, dearie," he says, lifting his arms to return the hug, never taking his eyes off you. 

Christian looks somewhat normal compared to the last time you saw him, with a white and red floral button-up tucked into black slacks, and a black leather blazer. His hair has some product in it to give it a slightly messy style, falling in front of his eyes, and he wears minimal makeup. 

But there is a darkness to him. Smudges around the eyes rather than clean lines, tattoos on his throat and neck. On his left hand, he wears a black leather driving glove, and across his nose is a red scuff, as if he has been punched. Under the rich musk that fills the air around him, you sense the stale smell of cigarette smoke, and he has silver hoops in his ears and one in his left nostril. 

A lot has changed about Christian in the months since you have known him. 

Ryujin releases their hug and takes a step back, causing Christian to look down at himself and rub his hands down the front of his jacket as if her tiny body could have somehow managed to do anything to the leather. Then he stands up straight and shakes his head to the side just enough for his hair to move out from in front of his eyes, and you realize that his left eye is completely white. Is it…missing? 

"Oh my god, your eye!" you shout, lunging forward before you can stop yourself and raising your left hand toward his face while your right hand nearly drops the whiskey bottle once more. 

Christian takes your wrist in his gloved hand and holds firmly onto you, and your entire body flushes hot with nerves as you realize the mistake you have made. The way his gaze holds onto you, even with only one dark iris and pupil, is piercing and intense, and you attempt futility to pull your hand away. 

"Funny story how I lost that," he says, expression pulling into a strange, sad grin. He leans close, nicotine on his breath as he says, "I'll have to tell you some time."

You pull on your arm, desperate to release it, but his grip is far stronger than you remember. Should you be afraid of this man?

"Christian," you begin, glancing from your hand to his face. 

"Perhaps over drinks, some time," he continues. "Just the two of us."

You nod, willing to lie to him if it means letting you go. Panic rises as you continue to take stock of how different he is from the man you used to know. 

Ryujin takes the whiskey from your hand, sets it on the table, and then grabs his hand in both of hers as she says, "Alright, that is enough of that. I need you two to play nice."

The room returns to view, and you remember why you are here and who you are with. You realize belatedly that these two not only know each other but that they are friendly with one another. 

"Wait," you say, turning to Ryujin, "you told Yoongi—"

"Look, I lied to him," she says, cutting you off. 

Your mouth falls open and your pulse whooshes in your ears. "You…but…" Could she possibly know what she has done by bringing the two of you together? "Why?"

Ryujin chuckles and steps close to Christian, placing her dainty, manicured hands over his chest. "Oppa is harmless. You know that! And Yoongi…well, he's paranoid. Trust me, darling. Nothing bad will happen to you."

You are not so sure you are convinced, but you know that freaking out will do nobody any good. Especially when you are so far away from home. You are not eager to show any more weakness to any of these people. Especially the one they call Mister Insanity. 

Someone shouts for Christian, using the name Barom, and you turn quickly back to the table. Your glass contains more whiskey, courtesy of one of the women, you assume, and you pick up the glass with shaking hands and slam it down, then reach for the bottle again. 

Intoxication roils through you in hot waves, and you squeeze your eyes closed to take a deep breath in and out before shooting more whiskey. A small hand touches your lower back, and you wish you were curled up in a bed all by yourself, far away from these people and this music. You are tired of being touched.

"I know it's weird to see an ex," Ryujin says. "Sorry for surprising you like this. He told me he wouldn't be around tonight."

"How did he lose his eye?" you ask, focused on the wrong thing as you turn to face Ryujin. You tremble so hard that your teeth clatter. 

Her smile falls to a frown and she shakes her head. "That isn't my story to tell."

You nod, accepting her answer, and turn to Hwasa, who watches you with a concerned expression. You mouth the word, "Bathroom?" and she nods and rounds the table, taking you by the arm. 

"Down the hall to the left," Ryujin says. 

As you walk through the room, you squint, attempting to ignore all the movement in the mirrors in your periphery. It's too much. Everything is too much. 

The darkness of the hallway is a blessing and a curse, relieving you from the chaos of the private room while introducing challenges of its own; it is almost too dark and somewhat claustrophobic. 

You stumble and Hwasa's hold on you tightens. She picks up the pace and leads you straight into a single-stall bathroom, then turns on a light that is thankfully relatively dim. The moment she closes and locks the door, you stumble forward, fall to your knees on the rough tile before the toilet, and vomit the contents of your stomach. 

Your mind races with myriad thoughts, but one is the loudest of them all: What the fuck is Christian doing here?

*

Oh, oh, I broke down all my doors Oh, do you see it now? Nothing was fixed at all

I never asked to be like this

🎵 visit the playlist

hello, hello!!! we meet again!!! i hope you have all been having great middle of the year months! things have been ok for me but i have been reading a lot more than i have been writing. how did you feel about this one??? it is a little slower, as it is setting the stage for the final chapters. any guess how things are going to go? how do we feel about the new (and returned) characters??? it felt really nice to writing Jimin into the scene again. 💜 i'll be honest, describing Ryujin & the Mamamoo girls laying on the rugs and blankets made me think of Quanxi and her harem of fiends from Chainsaw Man.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT BLAHBLAHBLAH LIKES ARE ALSO AMAZING AND SO ON. 💜 tags will be coming in reblogs. also, character asks are always active if you have some burning questions or comments (just don't expect me to outright spoil anything hehehe.)

i love you, stay hydrated!!! if you are somewhere with a heatwave, stay cool!!! 😘😘😘 until we meet again!!!

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Collateral is copyright 2022-2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved. no translations of reposts allowed.

[sufferu]

Lo and behold: the first published draft from the Julimilia subplot of Back to Zero.

Paralleling the “I love Emilia” moment from canon was a stroke of absolute genius. Thank you to whoever suggested that one. I hope you enjoy! :D

BTZ I Ficlet: The Guy You Like

____

All of the political camps had come together in celebration.

This particular celebration had been in the planning stages for weeks. Subaru wasn’t entirely aware of what it was for, really. He probably could have asked, but at a certain point his lack of knowledge had become humiliating to admit, and — everyone already thought the least of him. He couldn’t make it worse. But what he DID know was that it was big, and important, and that everyone was working hard to make it as festive an occasion as it could possibly be. Which meant, of course, that he was absolutely not allowed to mess it up.

He didn’t plan to, of course. He had learned his lesson about messing up important events, he really had. And he had tried his best to help everyone prepare this time, as a way to try and — make amends, for that horrible thing he had done that nobody had ever really forgiven him for. He hadn’t been allowed to help with most of it — the most common response to him offering to help was a scornful laugh followed by some variation of “I think you’ve helped out quite enough already,” — but he had done what he could. He thought that he had done pretty well, too. It was almost enough to make him feel proud of himself.

The festivities had gone amazingly so far. The decorations were top-tier, with lights and streamers and sculptures all fit for royalty brought out to make the grounds look as wonderful as possible — grounds which would have look great regardless, because this celebration was being held within the castle of the Lugunican Royal Family. Then there had been several demonstrations, with professional dancers and choirs and theatre troops all taking their turn to entertain the masses. Food and drink had been supplied throughout the night, and although Subaru had only been able to stomach so much food and vehemently avoidant of the drinks, all of it had looked and smelled incredible. Some stalls had been set up by vendors looking to sell souvenirs, too, and although he hadn’t been all that excited to buy anything, exploring all of the bright and festive items had been a fun way to pass the time.

There was something else, though. Something that he was truly, genuinely looking forward to. Because there wasn’t just going to be food, and drinks and games, and performances, and elaborate decorations meant to steal away the breath of all who entered the festivities. There was also going to be a DANCE.

For weeks now, in between his helping with preparations, Subaru had been trying to learn to dance properly — the sorts of dances that would be proper for a Lugunican celebration. He had taken out books from the Library, enlisted help from Liliana’s songstress abilities and Joshua’s instruction as an experienced nobleman, spent hours upon hours practicing away in the empty rooms of the Karsten Manor — all in the hopes that when he day finally came, he could finally approach Emilia, hand outstretched, and voice the words: “May I have this dance?”

He still wasn’t the best at it. Sometimes he mixed up the steps and ended up slipping out of order for the song, or accidentally slipped into the female role instead of playing that of the male like he was supposed to, or tripped over his own two feet and crashed into the floor. Wilhelm had looked at him so disapprovingly, the few times the old man had walked in on his practice sessions. But — he thought he was pretty good now, right? He had been trying so hard, so that meant he had to have gotten somewhere by now, right?

He must have. He knew that he must have. That was — it must be true, he knew it.

Anyway, it was too late to lament about that sort of thing. The dance was going to begin very soon. There was no more time to practice.

Subaru tried to swallow past his pounding heart, eyes scanning the room rapidly in search of Emilia. She had to be here, right? Surely she’d be here, she had been working just as hard as everyone else to make this celebration as much of a success as possible. But for a long moment he couldn’t find her, and he felt his heart drop more and more in his chest. This was his final chance. He had screwed everything else up. Every other attempt he had made to prove himself in her eyes had backfired, again and again and again — he couldn’t fail this time, too! If he failed one more time, then he knew that she’d never ever give him the time of day again, and that meant she’d go after—

If she wasn’t here—!

But then he saw her standing right near the back door, and suddenly he felt as though his breath had been stolen right out of his chest.

Emilia looked more gorgeous now than she had ever seen before. She was wearing just a simple lavender dress, nothing lavish or spectacular like Priscilla or Anastasia or half of the other ladies in the room, but somehow that simplicity made her the most dazzling of them all. The color brought out the richness of her eyes, the texture complemented the pearly sheen of her silver hair, and the dark bow that cinched her waist accentuated the shape of her body in all the correct ways. The light gold of her shoes and her thin necklace shimmered, tying the entire outfit together like a true masterpiece. Forget dancing: if Subaru could just stay right here, admiring her as a heavenly work of art—!

Subaru suddenly saw who it was that Emilia was looking at, and his heart dropped right back into his stomach.

Because of course she was looking at Julius.

And Julius looked incredible. He wasn’t wearing his knight uniform, not this time. Instead, he was wearing a Japanese-inspired — Kararagi-style, that’s what it was called here — a Kararagi-style kimono, with the haori and nagaki both colored a dark and royal purple, a pale gold obi belt, and a lavender hakama draping down from his hips. It was enough to take a person’s breath away. Compared to Subaru, who had really only been able to put together one of the fancier maidservant uniforms for himself…

It couldn’t have been considered a surprise, really. Julius was the epitome of what it meant to be a good knight, a good suitor, a good man. He was strong, and clever, and charming, and one of the most gorgeous people Subaru had ever laid eyes upon. It was no wonder that Emilia was looking at—

Julius outclassed Subaru in every possible way. He was stronger, smarter, more eloquent, more beautiful. He was everything that he could never— There was a reason he had never won against—

Subaru swallowed, re-summoning his courage and preparing to take a step forward. He would win this time.

This time, he would win. This time, he would beat Julius at something. This time, in the area that mattered most, Subaru would come out on top. All he had to do was—!

Emilia has such a beautiful look on her face.

And just like that, Subaru’s mind came screeching to a halt.

It was dreamy, and longing, and full of love. It was the kind of face that would stop any self-respecting man in his tracks through the sheer awe that it would inspire within his heart. It was the kind of face that Subaru had always wanted her to aim his way for once, with those round eyes and rosy cheeks and soft smile that men would wage wars over, if only the woman were to ask.

Subaru wanted her to aim that look his way. He wanted her to look at him with that soft look in those amethyst eyes. He already thought that she was beautiful, but if she had just been looking at him with such a wonderful expression, then this scene would have been perfect. That was what he wanted, more than anything else—!

No, you don’t, a voice whispered in his mind. There’s something else you want more than that.

Subaru wilted.

The voice was right: there was something he wanted above even that. More than her smiling at him so warmly and softly, more than holding her gaze as they danced across the room together, even more than her holding room in her heart for the likes of him — Subaru just wanted her to keep making that face, forever. Keep making it, and aiming it towards someone who could really give her that fairytale ending she deserved.

…Subaru knew that Emilia was in love with someone. And he knew that this someone was not him.

And I really can’t blame her for that, can I?

—Subaru knew what he had to do.

“It’s a nice party, isn’t it?”

Emilia blinked, startled out of her thoughts. Subaru thought she always looked so beautiful when she was a little bit flustered. “Subaru?” she asked.

“The one and only!” he answered, forcefully cheerful. “I couldn’t help it: seeing a beautiful woman all on her own at a party like this doesn’t make any sense, right? She should have guys falling over themselves to ask her to dance with them! Any other scene just doesn’t make sense for such a wonderful heroine…”

“Ah…” Emilia pressed her lips together. “I don’t think…”

Her lackluster reaction said everything, didn’t it? Subaru straightened up, letting his teasy flirtatiousness fall away. She didn’t want him. She was never going to want him. He already knew that.

Instead, the person she wanted was—

“You know,” Subaru pondered. “I think you’re supposed to ask the guy you like to dance, at an event like this.”

“A— Ah.” Emilia blushed, shifting uncomfortably. “I guess you’re right.”

It wasn’t him. He knew that already.

“So what’s keeping you?” he pressed. “You were looking forward to it, right? Everyone’s been rushing like mad to make sure this party’s as good as it gets, and I know you were one of them. But…” Subaru glanced across the room, to where Julius was engaged in conversation with Reinhard. “You haven’t even gone up to talk to him yet.”

“I— I know I haven’t— ah?” Emilia started, as if she had just registered his words properly. “…Huh?”

“The guy you like,” Subaru repeated. “You haven’t gone up to talk to him once. Don’t you want to dance with him tonight? You’ve worked so hard to get everything to this point, right? Shouldn’t you celebrate?”

“The guy I like…?” Emilia repeated.

It wasn’t him. It was never going to be him. “Yeah,” Subaru said.

Reinhard’s posture had stiffened. Julius was frowning at the Sword Saint, looking somewhat confused. There was no way for him to understand what the two of them had been talking about from all the way across the room like this.

“—Ah.” Emilia had seen where he was looking. “The guy I like…”

“Uh-huh.”

The world was quiet for a long moment.

“I’m not sure,” Emilia said softly, averting her eyes. Even when she was nervous, she looked beautiful. “I mean…”

“What’s there to be unsure about?” Subaru asked. “You like him, don’t you? And I’m sure — I’m sure he likes you back.” Who wouldn’t? Emilia was perfect. “And— there’s nothing wrong with giving it a try, right?”

Emilia was blushing. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy,” Subaru teased, trying to stifle the lump in his throat. “You’ve worked so hard to make all this happen, so shouldn’t you try and get what you want out of it?”

“What I want…?”

And what she wanted was never going to be him.

Subaru swallowed, and then took her hands in his. They were small, and soft, and tapered gracefully at the fingers. Emilia blinked slowly back at him.

“I know that it’s been — rough,” he said. “I don’t know what you’ve been working so hard on, but I know it’s been hard. You deserve a fairytale happy ending after all that, don’t you?”

“A fairytale happy ending,” Emilia echoed.

“Yeah. With a shining prince and a white horse and a bunch of talking animals.”

“Oh, you’re being silly again,” she laughed. There was something sad in her voice. It made his heart clench. “But…I don’t think—”

“Don’t think about it then,” he rebutted. “Everyone knows you earned it! Don’t think about it, just reach out and take it!” Her hands were so gentle, just like everything else about her. “You can ask for forgiveness later if you mess up, but can’t you think of yourself just this one time?”

He was right there. He was right there, if she wanted to reach out and take HIM—

But he already knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Subaru couldn’t stop now. “Emilia,” he said. “You are—” Beautiful. Wonderful. The most incredible woman in the world “—amazing. Anyone who doesn’t see that is…” He shook his head. “I’m sure he sees it, too,” Subaru insisted, even as his voice cracked. “Why wouldn’t he? You like him for a reason, don’t you?”

Emilia stared back at him, eyes round.

Subaru thought of everything that had happened over the past three years. He thought of those hours she had sacrificed, patiently helping him read through those same old storybooks, even as he made mistake after mistake. He thought of how hard she had fought to keep him in Lugunica, even when the Emperor of the neighboring country had been adamant on dragging him away, no matter how much he may have cried about not wanting to go. He thought of how she had arranged to keep him fed and settled even back when she had fully intended on never seeing him again. Finally, he thought of that moment when she had first saved him in that alleyway, in a timeline she was never going to remember, and realized that he had never felt so small before in his life.

“You’ve done — so much for me,” he said meekly. “I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more. And — that’s the kind of person you are to everyone, so I don’t think anyone here ever could, either. So…I think that you should focus on yourself for once, right?” He swallowed. “What is it that you want, Emilia?”

For a long moment, there was silence.

Emilia took a deep breath, and finally she looked him in the eye. Her beautiful eyes were large, and slightly watering, but the strength of her resolve made them the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Subaru,” Emilia said.

Subaru made it a point to smile. “Yeah?”

“I love Julius.”

He had known that. He had known that from the start. That had been the whole point of this conversation. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his smile intact.

So why do those words still…!

“I think he’s a truly wonderful person,” Emilia said slowly. She was still holding his hands in hers. They weren’t warm, exactly, but they were so soft and gentle that it really didn’t matter. “I love the way he laughs at silly things. I love how much he loves fairytales, and old stories, and spending time reading them over and over again. I love how he always wants to help anyone and everyone, just because he thinks that it’s the right thing to do. I love how reliable he is: even when everything seems reeally hard, and nobody else has the strength to keep going, I know that I can trust him to…” she trailed off, her eyes glistening. “I want to see him smile,” she said. “I want him by my side, as we build a future together. Even if he tells me that he’s not enough, that there’s someone else he thinks is better, that he doesn’t think he’s the one for me…” Emilia smiled, warm and bright. “I know that I want him next to me, always.”

The one Emilia loved must be a very special person indeed, for her to speak about him in such a way. The look on her face stole Subaru’s breath straight from his lungs. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that he wanted her to keep that dreamy, enamored smile forever.

Even if he knew that such a smile, such a beautiful, wonderful smile, could never be kindled by the likes of—!

The Self-Proclaimed Knight could no longer deny the truth: to the likes of Julius, the Knight of Knights, Natsuki Subaru could never even hope to compare.

“I…think you should ask him to dance with you,” Subaru managed to say, and he managed to say that with a smile, as well. He couldn’t feel his face, but he hoped it looked genuine. He didn’t want to — this was for Emilia. He had to remember that. “I’ll bet that if you do, he’ll say yes.”

How could he not, if she were to ask him with a look like that in those amethyst eyes?

“Eh?” Emilia started, her eyes darting this way and that. “Ask him to dance?”

“Why not?” Subaru encouraged, trying not to look like he was stabbing himself in the gut with every word. “We’re at a dance, aren’t we? Isn’t asking the guy you —” He swallowed. “The guy you like to dance with you — that’s what you’re supposed to do here, right?”

And it was never going to be him.

“Uh, I suppose so, but…”

Subaru didn’t let himself hesitate, because if he did then he’d never be able to do it. “Go on already, go!” he said, lightly pushing her shoulder so that she was looking to where Julius had at some point stopped talking to Reinhard and started arguing about something with Ferris. He saw her gaze soften when she caught sight of the greatest knight in the kingdom and tried not to burst into tears on the spot. “You only live once, don’t you? Shouldn’t you try to live without any regrets?”

“I— yeah.” Emilia took a deep breath. “Yes, you’re right. …Thank you, Subaru,” she said, so sincere it ached. “You really are…” her voice trailed off.

There was no possible way for her to end that sentence politely, not with him as the subject, and so she simply smiled, squeezed his hand one last time, and then started walking — away from him. Subaru almost lost his nerve and called after her, but he managed to hold himself back. Because the guy Emilia really liked was never going to be him.

—Subaru caught Julius staring at him, from across the room.

He kept his smile fixed firmly on his face. This was the right thing to do. This was the right thing — he was doing the right thing, he knew he was.

Julius stared back at him for a long moment before he smiled, victorious in the field that mattered most of all, and graciously accepted Emilia’s hand in his own. Then the two of them proceeded to the dance floor, graceful and beautiful and perfect and everything that he was never going to be.

Subaru couldn’t even bring himself to feel angry. How could he? Julius had won, fair and square, just like he always did. Just like he always would. Because Subaru was never, ever—

Julius and Emilia were dancing peacefully, now. Julius was doing everything perfectly, not mixing up the steps or confusing the male and female roles or tripping over his feet or anything of the sort. There was no reason for him to be here, now. This was the one blessing he had been granted this night, because Subaru just couldn’t take it anymore.

The door slammed shut behind him, but nobody would have heard it over the sound of merriment from inside the ballroom. It wasn’t until Subaru had started to run down the long, empty hallway that tears finally started to fall down his face.