#like there is not one place you could be standing in that apartment and not see pictures of me and my siblings

[helaintoloki]

Across the Hall

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings/notes: kind of a slow burn with fluff, angst, themes of insecurity, violence, reader has an abusive ex, eventual happy ending

a/n: this took me forever to write but hopefully you guys like it! and also friendly reminder that my requests are open so feel free to send in your ideas :)

summary: Bucky’s quiet life is disrupted when a new neighbor seeks his help

It starts with three knocks to his door.

Bucky had only been home for five minutes since returning from his workout when the noise startled him out of his contemplative state. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the interruption considering he wasn’t expecting company so late into the evening, but he felt obligated to throw on a sweater to cover his arm and answer the door for whoever stood on the other side.

The man is taken aback when he finds you standing there before him nervously wringing your hands together with a timid smile. He doesn’t quite recognize you, but he vaguely recalls hearing word of a new tenant in the building and assumes that must be you. He notes the way your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him and shifts uncomfortably in response, unsure as to what exactly it is you’re here for.

“Hi,” you promptly greet after regaining your composure. He’s much more handsome up close, and you hadn’t been prepared for that. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I kind of have a bookshelf that’s a bit too heavy for me to move on my own and I was hoping you could help me? I just moved in across the hall so I’m trying to get settled in, but it’s proving to be more difficult than I anticipated.”

The stoic man can’t help but to let out an amused chuckle at your predicament; you appear so jumpy and nervous after asking such a mundane request, but he oddly finds it endearing. Bucky was known to keep to himself and avoid interactions with other tenants, but he figured he could make an exception for a new neighbor.

“Sure,” he offers with a friendly smile, feeling oddly proud at the look of relief that washes over your features in response. He didn’t exactly have any exciting plans for the evening, so he could spare some time to help you move your heavy shelf.

“Thank you so much, you’re a lifesaver!” You exclaim before offering your hand for him to shake. “I’m y/n, by the way.”

“James,” he replies before cautiously taking your hand in his left one, thankful for the fact he’d left his leather gloves on when returning home. You don’t seem to notice his abnormality as you pull your hand away and lead the man into your apartment.

Unsurprisingly, it’s sparsely decorated and overflowing with boxes that have yet to be unpacked, but there are hints of personal touches spread throughout. The bookshelf in question sits in the center of the room, and by the scratches in the floor Bucky can tell you’d fruitlessly attempted to move it yourself before seeking his help.

“Just tell me where you want it,” he prompts you before grabbing the edges of the shelf.

“I was thinking of having it up against this wall next to the couch,” you explain while wildly gesturing with your hands towards the empty space. “At least, it will be against the couch once I buy one…”

“I take it you didn’t bring a lot of furniture with you,” he jokes lightheartedly despite how awkward he feels being in the apartment of a woman he’s only known for about three minutes. He moves the shelf with minimal effort, though he plays up the amount of strain he experiences so that you don’t become suspicious of how incredibly strong he is compared to the average man.

“I was kind of in a rush to leave the last place I was staying so I brought what I could,” you explain with a sheepish smile. “Thank you again for this, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replies easily before stepping back to admire his work. “This good?”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Anything else you need?” He offers, but you simply shake your head in response.

“I think that should be it for now, but if something comes up you’ll be the first to know,” you joke with a smile, appearing more at ease now with the man. Your face brightens before you wordlessly disappear into the kitchen, leaving Bucky alone and unsure if he should make his exit or not. However, before he can make a decision you quickly return with a Tupperware full of muffins. “Here, I just baked these an hour ago so they’re still pretty fresh.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” he tries to deflect with a bashful smile, but you’re insistent he take the container from your grasp and practically shove it into his hands.

“Really, take them. Consider them thank you muffins for allowing me to briefly inconvenience you.”

Letting out a small huff of amusement, Bucky finally relents with a nod and accepts your offering. “Thank you.”

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” you proclaim with a sigh before walking him out the door. “Have a good rest of your night, and don’t be a stranger.”

You part with a friendly wave before gently shutting the door behind him, leaving Bucky to stand aimlessly in the hallway with the container of muffins in his hands. He feels oddly warm and content inside, emotions that rarely follow interactions with strangers, but he figures you’re not really a stranger now.

However, you have interrupted his evening, for Bucky spends the rest of the night thinking about your smile.

~~~

Three days pass before Bucky decides to seek you out.

He isn’t sure what compels him to become so bold, but he knows that he has to see you again. You haven’t left his mind in days despite how hard he tries to push the thoughts down, so he figures he might as well get it over with and attempt to start another conversation. He can’t exactly recall any of his old moves back from his own time or know if they’re still reliable, so he approaches the situation the only way he knows how.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greets with a timid smile when you finally open your door. You look surprised to see him, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten at his presence. You thought the man charming but quiet and assumed his reserved nature meant he liked to keep to himself, so you’re pleased to see him again after the bookshelf fiasco.

“Hi, James,” you say with a pleasant smile. “What brings you here?”

“I was hoping I could trouble you for a cup of sugar?” He asks, face immediately heating with embarrassment at the insanely cliche request. James had a perfectly good container of sugar in his own apartment, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Of course! I actually just went grocery shopping, come in.”

Your apartment looks vastly different from the last time he’d been here, more personal touches spread throughout and only a handful of unpacked boxes still remaining. It feels warm and inviting, and Bucky swallows nervously as he processes the fact that this is only his second time in your space. Maybe he should leave you alone before he gets in too deep, before he has to ruin your camaraderie by coming clean about the person he really is and you decide that you don’t want an ex-assassin in your apartment anymore. Instead, he chooses to make small talk.

“How are you liking it here so far?”

“It’s nice,” you hum thoughtfully as you reach for the sugar up on the shelf. Bucky quickly looks away when your shirt starts to ride up with your reach, but he can’t ignore the way his stomach flips at the sight of a little skin. “Everyone I’ve met so far is friendly and it seems really peaceful. I like having my own place again.”

“Were you living with someone before?” Bucky prods, hoping he’s not asking too many questions. You smile faintly as you begin to pour the sugar into a small jar, but he notes the way it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Yeah, uh, my fiancé. Or, ex-fiancé now, I guess,” you murmur with a humorless chuckle. “It didn’t work out.”

Your usually cheerful demeanor has now dulled, and Bucky feels guilty for having brought it up in the first place. He isn’t exactly sure what to say or do to make it better, but thankfully you choose to save the conversation for him.

“What are you using the sugar for, by the way?”

Bucky stiffens, eyes widening slightly as he realizes he didn’t rehearse a script to go along with his lie. He wasn’t making anything, but he didn’t think he could flat out tell you that the sugar was just an excuse to see you again.

“Apple pie,” he quickly replies, wincing at the abruptness of his tone while you smile and carefully slide the jar of sugar across the counter his way.

“Sounds good. I’m more of a pumpkin pie girl, myself,” you hum thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’m not really a pie person at all. Just thought I’d try something new,” Bucky offers with a sheepish grin, eyes glancing around the apartment only to notice the empty space next to the bookshelf. “Still haven’t found a couch?”

“Nope,” you relent with a tired sigh. “I’ve been meaning to go couch shopping, but I’m kind of worried about how I’m gonna even get it up the stairs and into the apartment by myself.”

“I can help you with that,” Bucky blurts before he can stop himself. You appear taken aback at first, but a look of relief soon washes over your features at his words.

“Oh my god, would you really?” You exclaim with delight, and before Bucky can even process what’s happening you’re quickly throwing your arms around the man in an appreciative hug. He stiffens immediately upon contact, not used to such acts of affection and especially not from a woman as pretty as yourself. You, however, don’t seem to notice his awkward demeanor in the slightest. “You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he offers bashfully as he tries not to let you see how much of an impact your touch has on him.

“Does tomorrow around one sound good?”

“It sounds perfect,” he replies earnestly.

It isn’t until later in the evening that he realizes he’s never been couch shopping before.

~~~

As Bucky promised, he accompanies you in your search for a couch and helps you carry it into your living room. It nestles in perfectly next to your shelf, and you couldn’t be more thrilled.

You invite him to stay for a movie in celebration of finally having a spot to sit, and though he promised Sam he’d meet him for dinner he doesn’t have the heart to say no to you. That’s how Bucky ends up nestled next to you on the couch enjoying his first ever viewing of Silence of the Lambs.

“So you’re telling me you’ve really never seen this movie before?”

“I guess you could say it’s been on my bucket list,” he admits with a diffident laugh, grateful you’re none the wiser to the truth his words hold.

“It’s one of my favorites!” You gush enthusiastically before passing him the bowl of untouched popcorn. “But I think that might make me sound crazy to admit out loud.”

“Crazy is good,” Bucky assures you with a tender smile, chest tightening at the way your eyes light up in response to his words. “I like crazy.”

You settle into the movie together with ease, enjoying snacks and answering any questions Bucky has about the film. It amazes him how naturally he can fall into spending time with you, almost as if you were merely long lost friends and not strangers who lived across the hall from one another. He hadn’t felt this way since Steve, but even then, what he felt with you was different. Special. You existed outside of his life as a Sargent or the Winter Soldier, and he enjoyed having you help him fulfill his need for normalcy.

A random sitcom now plays to provide background noise as you and Bucky continue to converse way past the movie’s end. You long to know more about the handsome stranger who has slowly become a normal part of your routine, and you hang onto every word he says no matter how heavy your eyelids feel.

“I’m not sure if I have a favorite song, but I definitely think I won’t be able to get ‘Goodbye, Horses’ out of my head for the next few days after watching that movie,” he confesses with a wry grin that has you quietly giggling into your hand.

“You seem like the type of guy who listens to oldies,” you note with a thoughtful hum, prompting him to shift uncomfortably from his place on the couch. “Would you say you have an old soul?”

“Something like that,” Bucky notes with a wince. He wants nothing more than to be completely honest with you, but he fears it may be too soon to unload his history on you. He’s not sure he could handle the hurt that would come from you pushing him away if you didn’t like the truth. “Do you like that type of music?”

“I did at one point, but I kind of fell out of it once I started dating my ex-fiancé. He hated it,” you note while scrunching your nose in distaste at the mere mention of the man. “He hated everything, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that why you called it off and moved here?” Bucky asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t mean to pry or be invasive of your past, but he wants to understand how any man could fumble an absolute gem like yourself.

“Well, that, and the fact that he had a habit of getting physical with me,” you confess casually with a despondent smile that fails to reach your eyes. Bucky rears back in shock at your confession, prompting you to quickly interject, “But I got out of there as fast as possible, and now I’m much happier on my own.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Bucky offers gently. “I hope you know how incredibly strong you are.”

Smiling, you carefully reach across and take his gloved hand in your own. Despite not being able to feel the touch of your skin, the warmth you emit is enough to have his heart racing in his chest when you tightly clasp his hand.

“You’re unlike any guy I’ve ever met, James.”

“Bucky,” he corrects you gently. Your brows furrow slightly in response, prompting him to let out a small chuckle at your puzzlement. He gently gives your hand a squeeze before continuing, “My friends just call me Bucky.”

Realization sets as your brows lower and lips pull into a delighted smile at his clarification. You gently return the squeeze before nodding in understanding, thrilled at the idea of having your first official friend in the city.

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Bucky it is.”

~~~

You knock on Bucky’s door with the hopes of having him over for dinner, but it isn’t your neighbor that greets you on the other side.

“Can I help you, little lady?” The man says with a playful smile. His stature is intimidating but his features are kind, and for a moment you find yourself forgetting what you even came for in the first place.

“Is Bucky home by chance?” You ask with a bashful smile, hoping your eagerness to see the man in question isn’t too obvious to his guest.

“He should be on his way back with some takeout,” the man explains. “You like Chinese?”

He doesn’t allow you to answer before opening the door wider and allowing you entry into the apartment. It feels wrong to do so without Bucky being present, but you don’t want to be rude by rejecting the kind man’s offer. You swallow nervously when stepping foot into his home for the first time; the apartment is tidy but scarcely furnished, though you’re not one to judge considering you went four days without a couch.

“You a friend of Bucky’s?” The man asks while pulling out a chair from the island counter for you to sit. You nod.

“I just moved in across the hall, and Bucky’s been helping me get settled in. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Oh, so you’re y/n,” he says with a knowing smile before offering a hand for you to shake. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Name’s Sam.”

“Nice to meet you,” you smile politely before freezing as his words finally settle in your mind. “Wait, really?”

“Of course, Bucky speaks very highly of you,” Sam affirms with a wink.

“What do I speak highly about?” A voice interrupts, prompting you both to turn your heads towards the man juggling boxes of takeout in the doorway. His eyes widen in surprise at your presence before a careful smile settles on his face. “Y/n, what brings you here?”

“I came to see if you wanted to join me for dinner, but I guess I’m jointing you and Sam instead. If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” Sam answers for him, heartily clapping the man on the back. “A friend of Bucky’s is a friend of mine.”

You hide your laughter behind your hand at Bucky’s obvious annoyance towards his friend and decide to make yourself useful by setting the table for dinner. Despite this being your first time in his apartment, you’re easily able to find your way around his kitchen. It amazes him how quickly you’re able to make yourself comfortable in his space and how well you mesh into his life as if you’d always been a part of it.

“You never told me she was cute,” Sam murmurs under his breath with a playful nudge to Bucky’s side. The Sargent merely scowls in response before elbowing him back with more strength than necessary. However, the two immediately act inconspicuous when you turn your attention back to them and sit down to enjoy dinner.

“So how do you two know each other?” You ask before taking a bite of broccoli. Bucky gives Sam a pleading glance and attempts to convey his want for you to be kept in the dark about his true identity, and thankfully the Captain is able to pick up on his signals.

“We met through a mutual friend,” Sam answers with ease. “We actually hated each other at first.”

“Hate is a strong word,” Bucky tries to defend only to deflate at the pointed look Sam gives him.

“I don’t know how you can stand living across the hall from him,” Sam quips much to his friend’s chagrin.

“I’m actually really glad to be neighbors,” you confess with a sheepish smile, face heating with embarrassment while you try to avoid Bucky’s gaze. “I didn’t think I’d be able to make any friends when I first moved here, but he’s made it so much easier on me.”

“What are neighbors for?” Bucky offers with a careful smile before finally meeting your gaze. The room is charged with romantic tension as you two take in the other’s presence, and Sam makes sure to point this out to Bucky hours later when you finally return to your own apartment.

“I’m telling you, dude, she’s into you!” Sam exclaims from his place behind the sink. “You should go for it.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky rebuffs with a scoff while taking a freshly washed plate from Sam and placing it on the drying rack.

“You’re kidding, right? You think I didn’t notice the eyes you were giving her?”

“What eyes?”

“You know, the eyes,” Sam emphasizes, immediately imitating the look of longing Bucky had worn earlier in your presence. The soldier’s face scrunches in bewilderment before he quickly shakes his head in displeasure.

“Don’t do that, that’s not what I look like.”

“That’s exactly what you look like,” his friend defends before handing him another plate. “Look, all I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to maybe tell the girl how you feel and invite her out for something nicer than Chinese takeout.”

“Alright, let’s say I ask her out. I pull out all the stops, and it goes perfect. She decides I’m the guy she wants to be with, and I decide that I need to come clean about who I really am in order for that to happen? What happens when I tell her she’s dating the Winter Soldier? When I tell her about the blood on my hands? She doesn’t even know about the arm.”

Sam is silent after Bucky’s line of questioning, and unsurprisingly, he doesn’t have an answer. The super soldier sighs before slumping against the island counter and allowing his head to hang in shame and regret.

“I’ve already lost one good friend. I don’t know if I can handle losing another,” he admits quietly, almost afraid to voice the thought aloud.

Sam rests a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder but remains silent, contemplating his next words before finally giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” he reminds him gently. “And you and I both know this girl is worth the risk.”

Bucky smiles faintly at Sam’s words, thoughts already straying to you and the light you’ve managed to bring to his life. He knows his friend is right, but he still can’t bring himself to make a move, at least not yet.

All he can do is hope you won’t mind having an ex-assassin super soldier for a boyfriend.

~~~

A harsh thunderstorm plagues New York and cuts off the power to your building. Your apartment is shrouded in candlelight as you make the best of what you have, and you’re grateful for the fact that Bucky so graciously offered to come over and keep you company until the electricity is restored.

“I hate thunderstorms,” you shudder after lighting another candle to set on the coffee table. “They weren’t very common where I was from.”

“They’re a little loud,” Bucky agrees pensively. Each clap reminds him of his foggy past in the war, and he finds himself fighting to keep the unwelcome memories at bay.

You seat yourself on the couch across from the man and drape your throw over your legs to keep you warm. The living room is freezing now that the heater is out, and despite the amount of layers you throw on nothing seems to help.

“I don’t think I ever asked this, but what do you do for work?” You prompt him after a moment’s silence. Bucky shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

“I, uh, I’m retired,” he replies lamely while offering you a meager smile. “Army veteran.”

“You served in the army?” You ask with piqued interest, shifting a bit closer to the man. “What did you do?”

“I was a Sargent.”

“I never would have guessed,” you say thoughtfully.

“It was so long ago, I don’t… really like to talk about it,” Bucky confesses, refusing to meet your gaze. He knows he’s not technically lying to you, but he’s also aware of the fact that he��s not giving you the entire truth. He doesn’t know how to be straightforward with you, too petrified of risking you becoming afraid of him and withdrawing yourself, but he can only hide his true identity for so long before you find out.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you immediately apologize only for Bucky to assure you it’s fine. “We can talk about something else. How’s Sam?”

“That topic actually might be worse,” he grimaces, but his lighthearted smile that follows signals he’s only kidding. “Sam is good, just busy.”

“Being Captain America?” You finish for him with a raised brow much to Bucky’s surprise.

“You know?”

“I don’t think it’s exactly a secret,” you reply with a sheepish smile while wrapping the throw tighter around yourself. “He looked so familiar when I first met him, and a quick internet search helped me put it together pretty quickly.”

Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat at your words. If you’d done your due diligence on Sam, who’s to say you hadn’t done the same for him? Knowing you, he feels it’s safe to assume you would have brought it up by now if you had found any real information about his past, and he tries to remind himself of this as he attempts to quell the panic bubbling inside him.

“I won’t tell anyone that I met him personally or that he visits this apartment building,” you assure him, incorrectly assuming the reason for his panic is a need to protect Sam’s privacy. “Not that I really have anyone to tell considering you’re my only friend here.”

“Thank you for that,” Bucky breathes out in relief, anxious to move on from the conversation. “But what about your friends back home?”

“I didn’t really have any,” you quietly admit. You look away almost shamefully and take a moment to collect yourself before you can meet his eyes again. “My friends were my fiancé’s friends, and I knew they would never pick my side over his if I told anyone the type of man he really was. I knew if I wanted to get away I had to cut them off too or they’d just tell him where I’d run off to.”

Bucky knows he has no right, but every time you mention your ex-fiancé he can almost feel the anger boiling inside him. He can’t comprehend how anyone could ever mistreat someone as wonderful and kind as you, and he knew if he ever got the chance to meet the man he’d make him pay for all the hurt and anguish he’d caused you. Bucky almost felt like your protector in a sense, like it was his responsibility to look after you now that you were alone in such a big city, and he hoped you didn’t mind the fact.

A sudden clap of thunder has you nearly jumping into the air as you immediately throw yourself at Bucky’s side and anxiously grip onto his arm. He’s grateful for the fact that it’s his right arm you hold onto, but he still finds himself stiffening at the sudden closeness. It’s been years since a beautiful dame has thrown herself at him like this, and his brain feels like it’s overloading as he tries to process the moment.

“I’m sorry,” you offer meekly, clearly embarrassed at your frightened outburst. You start to move away only for Bucky to pull you back, prompting you to look up at him in surprise.

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you with a comforting smile. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You find yourself slowly relaxing at his benevolent demeanor, and with his permission you slowly ease yourself back into his side and allow him to wrap an arm around your trembling figure.

The rain continues to pour outside your modest apartment, but you find yourself able to fall asleep in the comfort of Bucky’s embrace. The man never makes an attempt to move, not even when the power returns and the lights finally turn on. Instead, he allows himself to enjoy the warmth your closeness brings and admires your relaxed features as you sleep soundly with your head resting comfortably against his shoulder.

He could get used to this.

~~~

You scored a job as a waitress at a nearby diner to help pay your bills now that you’re completely on your own and your savings are beginning to run low, and Bucky notices that you’re gone from your apartment more often than not. His knocks go unanswered, and he finds himself feeling sullen in response to your sudden absence. You’ve invited him multiple times to come visit you at work and enjoy a free slice of pie, and on this particular day he decides to take you up on your offer.

It isn’t a long walk from the building, and he appreciates having an excuse to leave his apartment for once. His stomach is twisted in nervous knots at the thought of finally getting to see you again while he rehearses what he plans to say. Bucky’s boyish charm isn’t what it used to be, and his romantic moves are rusty from years of inaction. However, he is able to remember one move in particular that always went over well with the girls back in his day, and for that reason he stops at a local flower stand to buy you the nicest bouquet of roses he can find.

Bucky is a man in love, and if his gift goes over well, he plans to finally come clean and tell you everything about his past so that he can have a chance at being with you. No more beating around the bush.

The diner is empty save for a few occupied booths, and this makes it easier to spot you when he sets foot through the front doors. Though the sight of you immediately brings a smile to his face, it quickly fades when he notes the distress on your features. Your eyes are wide with fear, hands moving frantically as you speak to a man Bucky doesn’t recognize, and he doesn’t miss the relief that seems to wash over you when you meet his eyes from across the room and silently plead for help.

“Bucky!” You call with a nervous smile, anxiously wringing your apron in your trembling hands. “Perfect timing.”

“Who’s this?” He asks with a raised brow, eyeing the stranger up and down methodically. Bucky could easily take the man without question, but he still didn’t like the look of him. The man’s eyes were shifty and calculating, and his demeanor was one of arrogance and callousness.

“Bucky, this is Michael-“

“Her fiancé,” Michael boasts proudly with a braggart smile.

“Ex-fiancé,” you correct him through gritted teeth, “and he was just leaving.”

“Fine, fine,” Michael offers before raising his hands in surrender. “I know when I’m not wanted, but don’t think this is over.”

Bucky grunts in irritation when Michael goes out of his way to harshly bump his shoulder against your friend as he pushes his way out of the diner, leaving you a terrified mess as you stand trembling in the middle of the walkway. You swallow thickly and meet Bucky’s gaze with an apologetic smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’m sorry about that,” you offer quietly, hands still nervously wringing your apron. Bucky notes the subtle quiver of your bottom lip and the way your lashes flutter quickly to hold back tears. You look terrified, and he hates to see you so wound up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Bucky assures you gently as he sets the bouquet aside and takes your unsteady hands in his gloved ones. “Maybe you should sit down a minute and take a breath, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you murmur quietly before allowing him to gently ease you into the nearest booth. In your panic you hadn’t even noticed the flowers he’d brought, and despite your frenzied state you’re still able to offer him a bashful smile for his efforts. “Are these… are they for me?”

Nodding, Bucky grins before handing you the bouquet. “They’re for you, pretty girl. I thought they’d look nice in your apartment.”

“Thank you… for these, and for saving me back there. I can’t believe I froze like that.”

“What happened?” Bucky presses gently, wanting to know every detail possible so he can better protect you moving forward. You let out a shaky breath and absently fidget with the ribbon tying the flowers together as you begin to relay the events to your friend.

“I did everything I could to cover my tracks and start over, but he still managed to find me,” you murmur in defeat. “He wants me to come back home with him, and he says he won’t take no for answer. I don’t know what to do- he knows where I work, and it will only be a matter of time before he figures out where I live-“

“Hey,” Bucky urges gently, affectively stopping you from spiraling. “Nothing is going to happen to you under my watch. I’ll have Sam look into the guy, and in the meantime I’ll do whatever you need to feel safe, whether that’s walking you to work or crashing on your couch so you can sleep at night.”

You give him a watery smile and immediately rush to his side of the booth so you can throw yourself into his arms for a hug. He returns the embrace immediately, taking extra care not to use too much force with his vibranium arm while he holds you tightly to his chest. You don’t know when he’d managed to steal your heart, but you know that you’re falling in love with your neighbor from across the hall. He makes it so easy and has fallen into your life like a puzzle piece you hadn’t realized was missing from the picture. Unlike the men in your past, Bucky treats you with the utmost care and respect, and you adore him more than anything.

Bucky will keep good on his promise, and you trust him with your entire being to keep you safe.

~~~

As promised, Bucky has made it his own personal mission to be your bodyguard during your time of need. He drops you off and picks you up from work, accompanies you when you have to run out for groceries, and spends his nights sleeping on your couch. You feel guilty over the fact that the man is hardly ever in his own apartment anymore, so after some convincing you’re able to talk him into letting you cook him dinner at his place.

“Any word from Sam?” You prompt quietly while stirring a pot of marinara sauce on the stove. Life has been uneventful since Michael’s appearance at the diner, but you hate having to constantly look over your shoulder wherever you go. You don’t enjoy being on edge every waking moment and not being able to get a good night’s sleep, and you just want this whole situation to be over with.

“He hasn’t been able to find anything about your ex or his whereabouts. The man knows how to stay hidden,” Bucky replies with a scoff. The mere mention of him has the super soldier’s blood boiling, but he tries to remain composed for your sake. “But don’t worry. He can’t hide forever.”

Dinner is a quiet affair, and Bucky is disheartened to see how dejected and small you’ve become in the past few days. You aren’t yourself, not that he can blame you, but he just wishes there was something he could do to help you.

Nightfall comes soon after, and Bucky helps you get settled into bed. Despite being in his own apartment, he’s adamant that you take the mattress while he resumes his position on the couch. He thinks it will be safer that way, and he’ll be able to hear any threats before they make their way into the apartment.

“Try to get some sleep, doll,” Bucky utters softly, gently brushing his knuckles along your cheek before making his exit.

“Will you stay?” You blurt without thinking, surprising both you and Bucky as he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n, I… I don’t know,” he starts to say only for you to gently take hold of his hand and carefully tug him back towards you.

“I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’d feel better if you were here next to me,” you plead meekly, the exhaustion clear in your features. Bucky finds it hard to say no to you when you stare up at him with doe eyes and a trembling bottom lip; the sight pulls at his heartstrings, and so he finds himself carefully crawling into bed with you.

“Thank you,” you whisper gratefully as you shift onto your side to face him. Your noses are mere inches apart as you stare into each other’s eyes and enjoy the comfort of being together in bed.

“You’ll never have to thank me for wanting to take care of you,” Bucky whispers back while carefully pulling the blankets up higher over your shoulders. You feel the leather of his gloves brush against your bare skin and shudder before peering over at him.

“You sleep in those?” You voice curiously, prompting him to immediately stiffen in response. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without those gloves on.”

“I… have a prosthetic arm,” he confesses quietly, figuring now is as good a time as ever to tell you the truth. He refuses to meet your gaze as his lips pull tightly together into a frown, waiting for you to say something.

“Oh,” you hum softly. His heart pounds in his chest as he waits for judgement or disgust, but instead he feels your hand gently rest upon his left bicep. His entire body tenses, and he watches with bated breath as you run your fingers along the fabric of his long-sleeve shirt. You can’t feel the coolness of the metal, but you can sense the lack of flesh and muscle. He’s not sure how you’d never noticed before, but you weren’t exactly one for details.

“If it makes you uncomfortable I can sleep on the couch-“

“I think it’s cool,” you interrupt with a careful smile, no hint of insincerity or judgement in your tone. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to, but I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of.”

Bucky lets out an embarrassed huff of laughter and grapples with himself over your naivety. Would your opinion change if you knew what he’d done with his prosthetic arm as the Winter Soldier? He feels conflicted, but overall at ease with the fact that you seem receptive to his artificial appendage.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky compliments you before leaning forward to press his lips against your forehead. You find yourself moving closer so that you’re pressed against his chest, and it almost feels natural to him when he wraps his arms around your frame and pulls you tightly against him.

Nestled in Bucky’s warm embrace, you’re able to enjoy your first peaceful night of sleep since Michael’s return.

~~~

Bucky leaves your sleeping form behind the next morning to pick up breakfast sandwiches from the nearby bodega for you both. He doesn’t exactly have the supplies necessary to make a homemade breakfast, but he knows you’ll never say no to a coffee and your favorite sandwich. When he returns, he finds that his apartment is empty and you’re missing from the bedroom. Initially he figures you must have gone across the hall to your own place to freshen up for the morning, so he’s not worried.

Bucky decides it best to bring the food over to your apartment, but before he can even knock on your door he’s met with the sound of commotion coming from the other side. He hears your muffled voice frantically speaking to someone followed by the sound of shattered glass, your screams prompting him to break down the door and barge his way into the room.

You sit cowering against your bookshelf while Michael menacingly towers over you. A fresh bruise blooms along your cheek while hot tears make their way down your face, and you look to Bucky pathetically for help while curling in on yourself. The roses he’d bought for you now lay scattered on the ground with shards of glass accompanying them, allowing the man to easily piece together what had occurred in his absence.

“You again,” Michael scoffs before slowly making his approach towards the super soldier. He flashes a snide smile as he condescendingly speaks, “Thanks for looking after my fiancé while I was away, but I got it from here.”

Bucky is unmoving, his eyes cold and unrelenting as his hardened gaze stares down at the intruder. Through your tears you can note the enraged tick of his jaw and the way his hands are tightly clenched at his sides as he holds himself back from doing something he’ll regret.

“She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you here,” he nearly growls through clenched teeth. “You need to leave.”

“Or what?” Your fiancé provokes with a disbelieving laugh. “You think just because she bats her lashes at you and spends the night in your bed that makes you special? She’s a little attention whore, and you’re an idiot if you think otherwise.”

“You can’t talk about a woman like that,” Bucky utters lowly. His body is vibrating with rage, his ears beginning to ring while the tension continues to build within him. He notes the way you watch on helplessly from your place on the floor, and the last thing he wants to do is scare you by becoming aggressive, but Michael was making this feat more difficult with each second that passed.

“I can talk however I want about my own fiancé, pal,” Michael speaks before giving Bucky a harsh shove. The man remains unmoving, and your attacker momentarily falters when realizing how sturdy his opponent is. “Now do yourself a favor and mind your business.”

“Bucky,” you softly cry out, shoulders trembling and eyes pleading for him not to leave you.

James finds himself taking a deep breath in while allowing his body to relax. Michael’s antagonistic voice drones on, and he knows there’s only one way to remove this man from your apartment and out of your life for good. He just hopes you won’t hate him after what is to come.

His hand immediately shoots out and catches Michael’s throat, effectively cutting off his air supply and his ability to speak. Your startled gasp fills the room as Bucky lifts the man before throwing him through your doorway. He slams against the opposite wall with a deafening thud before landing on the floor, and despite the excruciating pain he feels in his body he still desperately tries to crawl away as Bucky takes slow steps towards him.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” Bucky taunts before kneeling down next to him. “You’re lucky I’m letting you leave here while you’re still breathing. But if you ever come here again, if you ever put your hands on her again, if you ever even think about her again, I’ll make sure you leave in a body bag. Is that understood?”

Bucky doesn’t receive an answer, but he knows he’s made his point clear when your ex pathetically scrambles onto his feet and books it down the hallway. Resting his hands on his hips, Bucky lets his head hang with a sigh. He didn’t enjoy having to berate the man in front of you, but he can at least take pride in the fact that your ex-fiancé will never bother you again thanks to him.

Bucky quietly makes his way back into your apartment and finds you carefully picking up the scattered shards of glass. You remain silent, even when he kneels down to help you, and he begins to worry that maybe he had gone too far.

“You okay?” He asks you in the softest tone he can manage. Your tired eyes peer up at him through wet lashes, and it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts before you can reply.

“Your glove came off,” you murmur quietly, and Bucky almost isn’t able to catch it.

“What?” He repeats before slowly turning his gaze to his left hand. Sure enough, his usual leather glove is missing and his metal hand is on full display. He swallows down the lump in his throat despite the building anxiety he feels, clenching and unclenching his fingers before looking back up at you. He must have lost it in the scuffle, and he’d been too engrossed in making his point clear to notice.

“That’s not a normal prosthetic arm… is it?” You feebly prompt him. Bucky refuses to meet your gaze and quickly stands himself upright before slowly backing away from you. He feels suffocated by his shame and his guilt, and as he takes in his surroundings he realizes that his worst fear is manifesting itself into reality right before his very own eyes.

He wordlessly leaves your apartment and swiftly locks himself back into his own living space. The walls are closing in around him, and Bucky can do nothing but let his anguish consume him.

He’d ruined everything.

~~~

You haven’t heard from Bucky in over a week and your knocks to his door go unanswered. You’re all alone again, and the isolation is suffocating.

You miss the man who had became a part of your daily routine and infiltrated your space with his kindness and warmth. You had fallen in love with him, your heart aching for him every time he was away, and now only a tightness in your chest remained in his absence. You hadn’t meant to embarrass him when pointing out his arm, and you meant what you said when you told him he had nothing to be ashamed of. Everything had happened so quickly you hadn’t had a chance to explain yourself, to explain that despite the fact that you knew everything, your opinion hadn’t changed of him.

Your meeting with Sam had led to a deep dive into the history of Captain America, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that your search had led you to a plethora of information on the hero’s close friend James Buchanan Barnes. You knew you should have stopped yourself from reading further and instead asked Bucky to explain everything to you instead, but once you started reading you couldn’t stop. You were overloaded with information about his time in the war, his relationship with Steve Rogers, his affiliation with Hydra as the Winter Soldier, and his role in the fight against Thanos. It overwhelmed you, but it did not deter you from the man or prompt you to end your friendship with him. You weren’t afraid of him, and you worked desperately to get him to see that.

You hold a freshly baked batch of cookies in one hand while the other relentlessly knocks on his front door. You’ve been at this for about a good five minutes, and though it has earned you annoyed looks from neighbors that pass by you in the hallway, you’re determined not to give up until he sees you.

“Bucky, please,” you beg in exasperation, knuckles beginning to turn red from the constant impact against the wood of the door. “I know you’re in there so please come out. I can’t take this anymore.”

You’re met with silence, but this doesn’t deter you in the slightest; you know he’s in there and can hear your pathetic pleas. What you don’t know, however, is that he’s leaned right against the door on the other side watching you through the peephole. His mind is filled with turmoil as one part of him screams to open the door and let you in while the other insists this is for the best. What good does he have to offer you as an ex-assassin? What kind of life can you live tied down to the Winter Soldier? Bucky can’t bring himself to put you through the torment and the danger that comes with being his partner, and he curses himself for ever letting you get close to him in the first place.

“I miss you,” he hears you relent, voice wavering as you fight back tears. “You’re my best friend.”

Bucky can physically feel his chest tighten at your confession, and it takes everything in him to not open the door. He doesn’t think he can stand the torture any longer, and he begins to move towards his bedroom only for your voice to stop him in his tracks.

“I know everything,” you utter gently, prompting his heart to leap anxiously in his chest at your confession. “I know that you were a Sargent in World War ll, and your best friend was Steve Rogers. I know you’re the Winter Soldier. I know… I know that in spite of all of that, you’re the kindhearted man who befriended the complete stranger that knocked on your door and asked for help to move a bookshelf. You’re more than your past, and it doesn’t scare me like you think it does. I… I love you.”

You let your forehead fall against the door and shut your eyes, waiting with bated breath for any sort of response or movement from the other side of the door. You’re given nothing, and it’s now that you start to realize your friendship with Bucky is most likely over. You slowly back away from the door and set the plate of cookies beside it before taking one last longing look at his apartment.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bother you anymore,” you finally sigh, turning to make your way back to your own apartment. However, the click of the lock turning causes you to freeze in your tracks, and you hesitantly turn around to face the man whose door you’ve been assaulting for the past ten minutes.

His blue eyes are glossy with tears that threaten to fall, and his tired features display the torment he’s endured while isolating himself from you. He looks at you almost in astonishment, and for a moment neither of you dares to move or speak. You don’t know what to say or how much he’d heard.

“You…” he starts to say before taking a nervous swallow. “You said you loved me?”

You manage to flash him a meager smile while anxiously stuffing your hands in your pockets and casting your sheepish gaze to the floor. “I thought that was obvious. Why else would I be showing up at your door all the time?”

A quiet laugh of disbelief leaves him at your words, and Bucky feels confident enough now to leave the doorway of his apartment and take a step closer towards you.

“So this,” he says while raising his left hand and flexing his fingers, “doesn’t bother you?”

“Why would it when that very arm kept me safe?” You utter gently, taking another step closer so that the space between you grows smaller. You hesitantly bite the inside of your cheek before slowly raising your hand and offering it to Bucky. A pregnant pause fills the air as he stares down at your outstretched fingers, his brows furrowing with uncertainty while he hesitantly clasps your hand in his artificial one.

The metal is cool against your palm and brings an instant sense of comfort as you lock your fingers together. You fit together perfectly as if your hand had been made for him, and a funny feeling tingles within his chest as Bucky comes to this realization.

“I’m sorry for shutting you out,” he professes earnestly, gently pulling you against his chest so that he can wrap his arms around your figure. “Everything felt too real, and I was terrified of the possibility that you might not want to be around me anymore.”

“You could never do anything to scare me away,” you assure him gently, your eyes full of sincerity as you peer up at him. “I meant what I said, Bucky. You’re my best friend, and I love you.”

“I love you too, doll,” he murmurs with an adoring smile. Using the tips of his metal fingers, Bucky gently angles your face so that he can meet your lips in a kiss. Your eyes immediately flutter shut as you melt against him and savor the feeling of being so close to the man you’d missed so dearly while you were apart.

It’s as if the rest of the world fades away while you share your tender embrace in the middle of the hallway where you’d first met months ago. You came to the city for a new start, but Bucky never would have guessed that your arrival would signal the start of his own new beginning.

A bookshelf brought you into each other’s worlds, and a kiss in the hallway would keep you together for the rest of your lives.

[gf2bellamy]

I have no idea if I hallucinated that requested this or smt, so totally ignore this if i've already asked.

But could you ever do a fic where spencer is at the hospital from that time he got shot at, and reader gets his belongings while he's in surgery and she sees a ring box in between them. (Engagement ring ofc) And she talks with spencer after and tells him that she saw it.

That's kinda the idea, love your work and thanks in advance if you decide to write it. 🥰

ring — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: spencer is in the hospital because of his neck injury , mention of a shooting, reader being worried / panicked , a/n: hii !! i loved this request so much that i ended up writing like 5 different versions of it - i hope you like this !! <33 ( also i definitely got carried away with this )

Blake had practically shoved you out of the hospital waiting room, insisting you go to Spencer’s apartment.

You didn’t want to leave—not when Spencer was still in surgery, not when every second felt like an eternity of uncertainty.

But Blake had been firm but kind. “He’s going to be okay, but he’ll need things when he wakes up.” 

You had resisted at first, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Garcia’s call hours earlier had sent your world spinning. “Spencer’s been shot,” she had said, her voice trembling.

You didn’t remember the drive to the hospital—only the blur of streetlights and the pounding of your heart. When you arrived, Blake had met you in the waiting room. She explained that a bullet had grazed Spencer’s neck, that it was serious but not life-threatening.

Still, the word “surgery” had lodged itself in your chest.

It wasn’t until the doctor emerged to tell you the surgery had gone well that you finally agreed to leave. Spencer was stable, but he wasn’t awake yet, and visiting hours were over. Blake had told you, “Go pack a bag for him. He’ll need clothes when he’s discharged.” 

Now, standing in the middle of Spencer’s apartment, you felt weird.

The space was so him—neatly organized bookshelves, a chessboard set up on the coffee table, and the faint scent of Earl Grey tea lingering in the air.

It was comforting, but it also made his absence feel more pronounced. You took a deep breath and got to work, pulling out a duffel bag from his closet and starting to pack. 

You began with the essentials: a few pairs of pants, sweaters , and socks. You couldn’t help but smile as you grabbed a handful of mismatched ones. But then you remembered his purple scarf, the one he always wore when the weather turned chilly. It was his favorite, and you knew he’d want it when he was discharged. 

The problem was, you couldn’t find it. 

 You opened drawer after drawer, your frustration growing with each one. Spencer was organized, but the scarf was nowhere to be found.

“Where is it?” you muttered under your breath, your hands moving faster as you rifled through his things. You checked the top shelf of the closet, the hooks by the door, even the laundry basket, but it wasn’t there. 

Finally, in a last-ditch effort, you pushed aside the row of clothes hanging in the closet, your fingers brushing against something soft and familiar.

There it was—tucked away in the very back, as if it had been hidden on purpose.

But as you pulled the scarf free, something else tumbled out, landing softly on the carpet at your feet.

A small, rectangular white box.

Your breath hitched as you stared at it, your mind racing.

You carefully placed the scarf in the duffel bag, your hands trembling slightly as you bent down to pick up the box. 

The box was too small, too specific to be anything ordinary. You held it in your palm.Slowly, almost hesitantly, you lifted the lid. 

 And there it was. 

A ring.

A beautiful, delicate ring with a diamond that caught the dim light of the room, scattering tiny rainbows across your hand. It wasn’t just any ring—it was an engagement ring.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave, knocking the air out of your lungs. You sat down heavily on the edge of Spencer’s bed, your legs suddenly unable to support you. 

 “Oh my God,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your eyes were wide, your mouth slightly open as you stared at the ring, unable to look away. The diamond sparkled, almost as if it were alive, and you reached out to touch it lightly, as if to confirm it was real. The metal was cool against your skin, the stone smooth and perfect.

Your mind raced, trying to process what this meant. You couldn’t help but already imagine the moment he might have planned—his nervous smile, his hands fidgeting, his voice soft as he asked the question. The image was so vivid it made your heart ache. 

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, the ring cradled in your hand, your thoughts spiraling. But then, like a jolt, you remembered where you were supposed to be.

The hospital. Spencer.

He was still there, still recovering, and you were sitting here staring at a ring. 

Carefully, you placed the ring back in its box and closed the lid. Your hands were still shaking as you tucked the box into the duffel bag, burying it beneath the clothes and the scarf. You stood up, slinging the bag over your shoulder, and took one last look around the apartment.

 As you locked the door behind you and headed back to your car, your mind was still spinning.

The drive to the hospital was a daze. The streets blurred together.

Before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking lot. You sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly, trying to steady your breathing.

The ring. It was all you could think about. 

Finally, you forced yourself to move, grabbing the duffel bag and stepping out into the cool night air. The walk to the entrance felt surreal, like you were moving through a dream. The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and you made your way to the waiting room.

You sat down in one of the stiff chairs, the duffel bag resting heavily in your lap. Your thoughts were a swirling mess, replaying every moment, every interaction with Spencer over the past few weeks. Things that had seemed innocent at the time now took on a new meaning. 

A couple of weeks ago, he had dragged you into a jewelry store, casually asking what styles you liked. You had laughed it off, thinking he was just curious. Then there were the random dinners at different restaurants, him intently watching your reactions as you tried new dishes. “What kind of food do you like best?” he had asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. Now it all made sense. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice Blake walking in. She sat down across from you. It wasn’t until she spoke that you snapped back to reality. 

 “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice gentle. 

You blinked, finally noticing her presence. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Thanks,” you mumbled, forcing an awkward smile.

Your voice sounded distant, even to yourself, and you could tell Blake wasn’t entirely convinced. She studied you for a moment, her gaze flickering to the bag in your lap. 

 “Did you get everything you needed?” she asked, her tone casual. 

You glanced down at the bag, your fingers tightening around the fabric. “Yeah, I got him some sweaters, pants, and just… clothes in general,” you said, your voice trailing off as your gaze drifted to the wall behind her. Your mind was already wandering again, back to Spencer, back to the ring, back to the unanswered questions that were swirling in your head. 

And then, almost casually, Blake added, “And scarves?” 

That got your attention. Your head snapped up, your eyes locking onto hers. She was smiling slightly, her gaze knowing. “You found it, didn’t you?” she asked. She took in your wide-eyed expression, the way your hands tightened around the duffel bag, and she didn’t need an answer.

She already knew. 

“He asked me for advice,” Blake continued, shaking her head as if recalling the memory. A soft laugh escaped her, and you could tell she was amused by the whole thing.

“He did?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing to keep up with the conversation. 

“Yes,” Blake said, her smile widening. “He wanted to make sure he got it right. Spencer’s not the type to do anything halfway, you know that.” 

A smile tugged at your lips—maybe the first genuine one since Garcia’s call had shattered your world hours ago. You let out an emotional chuckle, the sound shaky. “It’s a beautiful ring,” you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“It is,” Blake agreed, her voice warm. “He spent weeks looking for the perfect one. Even spent hours in one store, agonizing over the details. You should’ve seen him.” 

You had to brush a tear from your eye as another chuckle escaped you. “That sounds like him,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

The thought of Spencer meticulously searching for the right ring, second-guessing himself, trying to make sure it was perfect—it was so him. So thoughtful, so Spencer. 

It was a lot to process and your mind was still spinning, when suddenly a nurse appeared in the doorway of the waiting room. 

 “Are you two here for Spencer Reid?” she asked.

You nodded immediately, jumping to your feet so quickly that the duffel bag slipped from your lap and landed on the floor with a soft thud. Blake reached down to pick it up, handing it to you with a small smile. “He’s awake,” the nurse continued. “You can see him now.” 

Your heart leapt into your throat, a mix of relief and nervousness flooding through you. You turned to Blake, expecting her to follow, but she stayed seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“Are you not coming?” you asked, your voice tinged with confusion. 

Blake shook her head, her smile soft and knowing. “I’ll give you two a moment,” she said gently. Her tone left no room for argument, and you realized she understood. The emotions were about to be high, the moment intimate, and Blake was giving you the space you needed. 

You smiled, gratitude washing over you. “Thanks, Blake,” you said, your voice sincere. She nodded, her eyes warm, and with that, you turned and hurried after the nurse, the duffel bag clutched tightly in your hands. 

The walk to Spencer’s room felt both endless and far too short.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand questions, but all of them faded into the background when the nurse stopped outside a door and gestured for you to go in. “Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely audible.

The nurse gave you a reassuring smile before walking away, leaving you standing there, your hand hovering over the door handle. 

 You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and then pushed the door open. The room was quiet, the only sound the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Spencer was lying in the bed, his eyes closed, his face pale. For a moment, you just stood there, taking him in, relief flooding through you at the sight of him alive and breathing. 

 And then his eyes fluttered open, as if he could sense your presence. “Hi,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

 “Hi, Spence,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you closed the door behind you and stepped closer to his bed. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the faint lines of exhaustion and the bandage on his neck.

You set the duffel bag down on a nearby chair, your hands fidgeting nervously as you tried to find the right words.

But before you could say anything, Spencer’s lips curved into a small, tired smile. “You’re here,” he said, his voice soft.

“Of course I’m here,” you replied, your voice breaking slightly. The words felt inadequate, but they were all you could manage. Spencer watched you with a weak smile, his eyes soft but tired.

You weren’t entirely sure how to approach the situation. Your hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, unsure whether to touch him or keep your distance.

“How are you feeling?” you asked, your voice gentle as you stood right next to his bed, close but not quite touching. 

 “I’m okay,” Spencer said. He tried to sit up slightly, wincing as he shifted. You instinctively stepped forward, your hands reaching out but still not making contact. “You sure? Do you want me to get you something? Water? A pillow?” you offered, your voice tinged with worry. 

“No, no,” Spencer shook his head, managing a small smile as he finally settled against the raised bed. He glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, and then he whispered, “You can touch me.” 

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you just stared at him. He had noticed—of course he had. Your hesitation and your fear of hurting him if you touched him.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You immediately rushed to sit down on the edge of the bed, where he had slightly patted the space beside him with as much energy as he could muster. Your hands found their way to his face, brushing the hair away from his forehead, your fingers trembling as they traced the lines of his face. 

“God, you scared me so much,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding in. Spencer closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as you continued to gently twist his hair between your fingers. Your hands eventually drifted down to his face, brushing over his cheekbones, your touch feather-light.

Spencer let out a soft sigh, his eyes still closed, his breathing steady but shallow. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

When he opened his eyes, you stared at him for a moment, trying to absorb the fact that he was really here, awake, and alive. The relief was overwhelming, but so was the flood of emotions you’d been holding back. You wanted to say so much, but the words felt tangled, caught somewhere between your heart and your throat. 

Instead, you forced a small smile and shifted the conversation to something lighter. “I got you some clothes,” you said, gesturing to the duffel bag. “I figured your hospital gown isn’t exactly comfortable.” 

“It’s not,” Spencer admitted, his voice still weak but with a hint of amusement. You set the bag on your lap and opened it slightly, pulling out a few items to show him. “I got you some books too,” you added, hoping to distract him—and maybe yourself—from the heaviness of the moment. 

Spencer’s interest was immediately piqued, his tired eyes lighting up just a little.

“Which ones did you—” he started to ask, but then he stopped mid-sentence. His gaze had landed on something in the bag, and his expression shifted.

You followed his eyes and realized what he was looking at: the purple scarf. It was peeking out from beneath the stack of clothes.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker.

Spencer’s mouth opened slightly, his eyes darting from the scarf to you and back again. You could see the realization dawning on his face, and your stomach dropped. 

“It was an accident,” you finally said nervously, breaking the silence. Your voice was rushed, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to find it. I was just grabbing your scarf because, you know, it’s freezing outside, and I thought you’d want it when you’re discharged, and—” You stopped yourself, realizing you were rambling. “I’m sorry,” you added, shaking your head and offering an awkward smile. 

Spencer, meanwhile, was full-on blushing, his pale cheeks now flushed with color. It was a stark contrast to how he’d looked just 20 seconds ago.

He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, clearly at a loss for words. His cheeks were still flushed, his eyes darting nervously around the room before finally settling on the wall behind you. He looked completely lost in thought, his mind racing a mile a minute. 

“No—it’s… it’s okay,” Spencer finally managed to say, though his voice was quiet and hesitant. He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed on some distant point as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Spence?” you asked softly, your slightly trembling hand reaching up to gently cup his face again. Your touch seemed to pull him back to the present, and his eyes slowly met yours.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Your hand fell from his face, but he caught it before it could retreat, his fingers intertwining with yours. His grip was firm, almost as if he were afraid you might pull away. “I asked Blake for advice,” he admitted, his tone sheepish. 

“I know,” you whispered, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She told me.” 

Spencer didn’t seem surprised that Blake had shared that with you. Instead, he nodded, his eyes dropping to your joined hands.

“I wanted it to be perfect,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration. “I had a speech prepared, and I—I was going to have this whole routine on how I would ask you.” He tightened his hold on your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’m sorry you found out like this,” he added, his voice hesitant.

He opened his mouth again, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away, as if he couldn’t bear to hold your gaze. 

The room fell silent. You could see the disappointment in his expression, the way he was beating himself up for not being able to execute his plan the way he’d envisioned. But to you, none of that mattered. What mattered was the love behind it, the thought and care he’d put into something so meaningful. 

After a beat of silence, you finally spoke, your voice soft.

“My answer is the same either way,” you whispered. 

Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“You want to…?” he started, but he didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The hope in his eyes said it all. 

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes. “Of course I do, Spencer. How could I not?” 

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire being. He squeezed your hand tighter, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again.

You smiled, your own eyes slightly glossy as you looked at him. The room felt quieter now, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

“Now you have to heal faster,” you whispered, your voice teasing but tender as you brushed your thumb over his fingers, “so we can get working on our wedding preparations.” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the word wedding, his lips curving into a smile that was equal parts shy and delighted.

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if he were trying to process the reality of what you’d just said. Then he let out a soft laugh, the sound warm and genuine despite the hoarseness in his voice. 

“Wedding preparations,” he repeated, his tone a mix of awe and amusement. “I… I hadn’t even gotten that far in my planning yet.” He paused, his smile turning sheepish. “I was so focused on the proposal that I didn’t think much about what would come after.” 

You chuckled. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of ideas,” you said, your tone playful. “But first, you need to rest and get better. No more getting shot, okay? I can’t have my fiancé—” The word felt strange but wonderful on your tongue, and you paused, savoring it for a moment before continuing, “—running around getting himself hurt.” 

Spencer’s smile widened at the word fiancé, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Fiancé,” he murmured, as if testing out how it sounded. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft. You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering for a moment against his skin. When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. 

“I’ll heal faster,” he promised, his voice quiet. “I’ve got a wedding to plan now, after all.” 

[purplereina11]

Apart of Perfect Shot Series You go on a night out with the Barcelona girls and end up back at Alexia's where you make up.. Finally! Enjoy the fluff

The nightclub is alive with music and flashing lights, bodies pressed close on the dance floor, laughter mixing with loud beats. You're out with Carla, your closest friend, and a group of players from Barcelona—Patri, Mapi, Ingrid, and Aitana—who insisted you needed a distraction. They've convinced you to join them in hopes of taking your mind off Alexia, the one person who has consumed your thoughts lately.

You try desperately to lose yourself in the moment, smiling wider, laughing louder, drinking faster. But you're not accustomed to drinking like this. Each sip is another attempt to quiet the ache that settled in your chest since things fell apart between you and Alexia. Soon, the warmth of alcohol floods your veins, and reality begins to blur.

Carla glances at you with a worried expression. "Are you alright?" she asks gently, her voice barely audible over the music.

You nod lazily, but your head feels heavy, your limbs unfamiliar. Suddenly, the room spins violently, and you grip Carla’s arm for support.

"Woah, okay," Carla says firmly, steadying you. "I think you've had enough."

The other players notice quickly. Patri looks concerned, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We should get you home. Where do you live?"

You blink, the answer lost somewhere deep within your foggy mind. You shake your head helplessly. Carla sighs in frustration, realising she doesn't know your new address either.

Mapi frowns. "Does anyone here know how to get her home?"

There's a pause—everyone exchanging uneasy glances—before Carla reluctantly pulls out her phone. You can barely register the quiet conversation that follows, but you catch one unmistakable word: "Alexia."

Anxiety swirls in your stomach alongside nausea. The thought of Alexia coming to your rescue now, after days of silence and tension, fills you with both relief and dread. You hadn’t reached out since Carla’s birthday party the week prior and neither had you, both clearly too stubborn to reach out first.

When Alexia arrives, it's impossible not to sense the shift in energy. She stands quietly at the edge of your group, chatting to everyone bar you, it seems her teammates and more specifically Carla were defending themselves. Like Alexia was blaming them for your state. Her eyes began searching until you let yours find hers. Her expression, usually so composed, flickers between worry and hesitation. You feel shame bloom hotly in your chest, embarrassed to have her see you like this.

She moves forward, offering Carla a quiet nod of gratitude when she moves aside, then gently takes your arm. "Come on," she whispers softly, guiding you toward the exit. Her touch is familiar, steady, and somehow heartbreaking.

The drive to her apartment is painfully silent. You want to speak, apologise, say something—anything—to break the awkwardness, but your head pounds and words fail you. Alexia occasionally glances over, worry etching deeper lines into her face each time. All you could do was close your eyes and tell yourself to not vomit in Alexia’s car.

She helps you into her apartment, every step new territory you’d not been here before, she would come to your apartment over inviting you to hers, yours was more conveniently located. She carefully removes your jacket, sets your shoes neatly aside, and guides you gently to sit on the edge of her bed. Her hands are tender, deliberate, as if she's handling something fragile.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, the words heavy on your tongue, laced with genuine regret.

"Shh," Alexia soothes softly. "We’ll talk tomorrow. Just rest now."

But rest proves elusive.

The room is spinning, but at least it’s not as violent as before. You're lying back against the pillows in Alexia’s bed, the familiar scent of her laundry detergent surrounding you. It’s strangely comforting. Or maybe it’s just her. She’s sitting beside you, her presence grounding you even in your drunken haze.  

You turn your head lazily toward her and squint. “You’re so pretty,” you mumble, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.  

Alexia raises an amused brow but doesn’t interrupt.  

You keep going, oblivious to any sense of shame. “Like… unfairly pretty. Like… if I was a judge, I’d make a law that you’re not allowed to just walk around looking like that without a warning sign. ‘Danger: Too Pretty.’”  

Alexia chuckles, shaking her head as she watches you. “Oh yeah?” she humours you. “And what would this warning sign look like?”  

You take this question very seriously, staring at the ceiling in deep concentration. “Hmm. Maybe… like a giant blinking neon sign that follows you everywhere. So people know. Or maybe a siren. Like a cute one. A ‘Beware: Alexia’ siren.”  

She laughs quietly, tilting her head as she watches you ramble. “Sounds very practical.”  

You nod solemnly. “Mhm. Gotta protect the public. People could get injured tripping over themselves when they see you. I mean, I almost died the first time I saw you.”  

Alexia's smile softens, something flickering in her eyes. “You did not almost die.”  

“Yes, I did,” you insist, dramatically clutching at your chest. “You were there. I literally gasped. My heart almost stopped. I was like, ‘Wow. That’s the most beautiful woman in the world.’ And now look at me.” You gesture weakly at yourself. “Drunk. In your bed. Pathetic.”  

She bites her lip, shaking her head with a fond smile. “You’re not pathetic.”  

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you feel bad for me,” you pout.  

Alexia lets out an exaggerated sigh. “No, I’m saying that because you’re ridiculous. And drunk”  

“Am I?” you ask, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before you force them back open. “Or am I just a tragic poet, drowning in my feelings and the consequences of my poor decision-making?”  

Alexia chuckles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your forehead. “Definitely the second one.”  

You sigh dramatically. “I knew it.” A moment of silence passes, the air between you warm and almost nostalgic. Then, in a much softer voice, you murmur, “I missed you, you know.”  

The humour in Alexia’s face falters slightly, something unreadable replacing it. Her fingers pause where they were absentmindedly tracing patterns on your arm.  “I missed you too,” she says eventually, her voice quieter now. She rose to stand to leave you to finally go to sleep, but you just had to keep talking.  

“You know,” you slur, flopping onto her mattress dramatically, arms sprawled out like a starfish, “I always thought if I ever got to be in your bed, it’d be for a much sexier reason.” The first time you end up in Alexia Putellas’ bed, it is not in the way you would have imagined, nor is it remotely romantic. In fact, it is tragic, messy, and—to your drunken brain—both incredibly funny and unfair.  

Alexia, standing at the edge of the bed with her arms crossed, lets out a long, suffering sigh. “This is not funny.”  

“It’s kind of funny,” you argue, rolling onto your side with what you hope is a seductive smirk but probably looks more like a grimace. “You could have had me any way you wanted, but nope. Here I am, drunk and tragic, and you’re stuck being my babysitter.”  

She pinches the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath in Catalan. You think it might be a prayer for patience. “I am not ‘stuck’ with you,” she says finally. “I just didn’t trust you to make it home without getting lost or throwing up in a taxi.”  

“Wow.” You clutch your chest dramatically. “The romance. I can feel the love radiating from you, truly.”  

She glares at you. “Do you want me to throw you back into the street?”  

You gasp, scandalised. “Alexia! How dare you? This is the part where you tenderly care for me and realise you’ve never stopped loving me.” You hadn’t realised you dropped the L bomb, you and Alexia had discussed your feelings, you knew you both cared for each other. Insanely attracted to the other but never went that deep.

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Oh, is that what’s supposed to happen?”  

“Yes,” you declare. “And then, in the morning, we have a heartfelt conversation, and you admit you can’t live without me, and we dramatically kiss in the doorway.”  

“Do you also throw up on me in this scenario?”  

You pause. “Well. I’d prefer not to, but I can’t make any promises.” You hiccup.

She exhales through her nose and shakes her head. “Go to sleep.”  

“But I’m not even that drunk,” you argue, even though the room is still spinning slightly and your limbs feel like they belong to someone else.  

Alexia levels you with a look. “You just tried to take off your socks"

"And?"

"You weren’t wearing any.”  

“… Okay, that was one time.”  

She sighs, but there’s a tiny hint of amusement in her eyes as she gently pushes you back onto the bed, pulling the blanket up over you. “Close your eyes,” she instructs.  

You obey, but only for a second before you peek one eye open. “You’re kind of bossy, you know that? I like that in the bedroom by the way”  

Alexia lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “And you’re impossible.”  

You grin, half-asleep already. “Yeah, but you like me anyway.”  

She doesn’t answer, just watches as your drunken babbling finally quiets and your breathing evens out. But if you were still awake, you might have caught the way her lips twitch upward slightly, the way she tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before finally settling into the space beside you in the bed, ready to watch over you for the rest of the night.

Throughout the night, waves of sickness crash over you. Each time you stumble to the bathroom, Alexia follows quietly, never complaining, gently holding back your hair, rubbing circles on your back, and whispering reassuring words. Her calm presence is grounding, comforting, a painful reminder of what you nearly lost.

She never leaves your side, not even for a moment, her eyes heavy with exhaustion yet alert and gentle. Hours stretch endlessly into the night. Eventually, the nausea subsides, replaced by profound exhaustion and embarrassment.

As dawn begins to paint the sky in muted colours, Alexia offers you a fresh glass of water. Her voice is quiet, almost vulnerable, when she finally speaks. "You scared me tonight," she admits, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you.

Your eyes meet hers, and your heart twists with guilt. "I’m sorry," you whisper again, more sincerely this time, feeling tears build behind your eyes. "I shouldn't have—"

“Hey," she interrupts softly, placing a gentle hand on yours. "I'm just glad you're okay. That's what matters most."

You nod slowly, unable to break away from her gaze. There's so much you want to say—so much you should say—but exhaustion pulls heavily at your eyelids.

"Get some sleep," Alexia whispers gently. "We'll have plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better."

As your eyes drift closed, you feel her fingers gently brushing your hair back, and you realise something profound: despite all that has happened, despite the silence and misunderstandings, Alexia is still here, still caring, still the one person who can make you feel truly safe.

And for tonight, that's all that matters.

You wake up slowly, consciousness returning in painful waves. The harsh glare of morning sun floods through Alexia’s bedroom window, stabbing sharply behind your eyes. You groan softly, pressing your palm against your forehead, desperate to soothe the throbbing ache that pulses through your skull.

The memories of the previous night come flooding back in disjointed pieces—Carla’s worried expression, the blurred lights of the nightclub, the gentle yet heartbreaking way Alexia took care of you. Embarrassment churns in your stomach, mixing uncomfortably with the lingering nausea from your hangover.

Slowly, you try to sit up, your head protesting sharply. A small noise escapes your lips, and within moments, Alexia appears in the doorway, concern written clearly on her exhausted face. Dark circles underline her usually bright eyes; it’s clear she hasn’t slept at all.

“How are you feeling?” she asks softly, stepping into the room and sitting gently on the edge of the bed. Her voice is cautious, like she’s afraid any loud sound might break you apart.

“Terrible,” you admit, your voice hoarse and weak. You can't meet her eyes, too ashamed of the state she found you in. “Alexia, I'm really sorry about last night. You shouldn’t have had to—”

She stops you gently, placing a reassuring hand on yours. “Don’t apologise again. Please. I’m glad you called—well, that Carla called me. You could have been seriously hurt if they'd tried to take you home themselves.”

A heavy silence stretches between you. There are so many unspoken words floating between you things you both need to say but are afraid to voice. You glance down at your intertwined hands, finding comfort in the familiar touch, warmth radiating from her palm.

“I didn’t mean for things to end up like this,” you whisper finally, vulnerability clear in your tone.

Alexia sighs gently, her thumb brushing over your knuckles softly. “Neither did I. But maybe last night was a wake-up call. We need to talk.”

Your stomach clenches nervously, but you nod slowly. “Yeah, we do.”

She studies your face carefully, clearly seeing the pain etched into your expression. Without another word, she rises, disappearing briefly before returning with a glass of water, painkillers, and a small plate of toast.

“Take these. You’ll feel better,” she instructs gently, sitting beside you again.

You take the medicine gratefully, sipping water as Alexia quietly watches, a hint of relief softening her features.

“Did you sleep at all?” you ask quietly, guilt rising again at the exhaustion clearly weighing on her shoulders.

She shakes her head with a tired half-smile. “I was too worried about you. Bit inconvenient if you died on me”

“I'm so sorry,” you whisper again instinctively, unable to suppress your remorse or the little smile at her joke.

“Stop,” she says softly, voice filled with warmth. “I wanted to take care of you. I would do it again without hesitation.”

You meet her eyes at last, seeing sincerity, care, and something deeper there—love. It makes your heart ache.

“Alexia—”

She squeezes your hand gently, interrupting your words. “Rest a little more, okay? Once you feel better, we’ll talk properly about us, about everything. No more silence. No more misunderstandings.”

The determination and warmth in her voice reassure you deeply, easing the anxiety knotting inside your chest.

You settle back against the pillows, exhaustion reclaiming you. As your eyes drift shut once again, you're acutely aware of Alexia’s comforting presence beside you, her gentle fingers brushing soothingly over your forehead.

For the first time in weeks, despite the physical misery of your hangover, your heart feels hopeful because maybe, just maybe, this painful night has brought you and Alexia back to the place you both needed to be.

The next time your eyes open, your headache has faded just slightly, though a dull ache still echoes behind your temples. Sunlight pours softer now through the curtains, casting the room in a golden warmth. The apartment is quiet, and a sense of loneliness creeps into your chest.

Gingerly, you sit up, stretching slowly, testing your body. You still feel fragile, emotionally and physically, but you realise in that quiet moment, all you truly crave is the comfort of Alexia's embrace.

You pull yourself out of bed, finding your footing shaky at first, and carefully step into the hallway. Alexia’s home is intimately unfamiliar, every detail reminding you of her, she was etched into each corner.

The soft clinking of dishes leads you toward the kitchen, where you find Alexia with her back turned, quietly making coffee. The scent fills the air, comforting and familiar. You pause for a moment, watching her, your heart swelling with gratitude and a deep longing. All your defences crumble, and suddenly, you're overcome with the simplest yet strongest desire—a hug.

"Alexia?" Your voice is soft, hesitant, almost childlike.

She turns immediately, eyes brightening with relief as she sees you standing in the doorway. "Hey," she replies gently, setting the mug aside, her expression warm, patient, and encouraging. "Feeling a little better?"

You nod slowly, eyes dropping to the floor, suddenly shy. "A bit. But..." Your voice falters, the words catching in your throat.

"But what?" Alexia takes a cautious step toward you, sensing your hesitation.

You lift your gaze, vulnerability clear in your eyes. "Could I... could I just have a hug? I really, need one right now.”

Alexia’s expression softens instantly, her lips curling into a tender, understanding smile. She closes the distance between you without hesitation, opening her arms. "Come here."

You move into her embrace eagerly, melting instantly into her warmth. Her arms wrap tightly around you, protective and comforting. Her familiar scent washes over you, calming the lingering anxiety in your chest. You bury your face in her shoulder, breathing her in deeply, feeling her steady heartbeat against your chest.

Alexia holds you securely, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other firmly wrapped around your waist. She doesn't rush you, doesn't speak, simply lets you soak in her presence. Her heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, reassuring you that you are safe, cared for, and exactly where you belong.

"I've missed this," you whisper finally, your voice muffled into her shoulder. "I've missed you."

Her arms tighten slightly around you, voice thick with emotion as she replies softly, "I've missed you too, more than you know."

You pull back just enough to look up into her eyes. "Can we fix this? Please?"

Her hand rises to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin. "We can," she promises quietly, sincerity shining clearly in her gaze. "Together."

You let out a deep, shuddering breath, relief flooding your chest. As she holds you close again, you realise that this hug, this simple yet profound gesture is exactly the bridge you'd both needed to reconnect, heal, and move forward, hand-in-hand, leaving the pain behind.

The gentle sounds of chopping vegetables and sizzling oil fill Alexia’s kitchen, creating a comforting backdrop to the quiet tension lingering between you both. You're seated at the kitchen counter, watching her intently. Every graceful movement she makes is familiar, deeply soothing, yet painfully nostalgic.

The aroma of freshly sautéed garlic and herbs slowly eases some of the residual ache from your hangover, helping you feel somewhat human again.

Alexia pauses briefly, her gaze drifting upward until it meets yours. She smiles softly, almost shyly, returning quickly to the pan, stirring slowly.

You swallow nervously, deciding this moment is as good as any. “Alexia,” you begin hesitantly, voice gentle but determined, “can we… talk about us now?”

She freezes momentarily, visibly taking a steadying breath, before nodding and turning down the heat. She leans against the counter, her eyes fixed steadily on you.

“Of course we can,” she replies softly, voice calm yet vulnerable. “I’ve wanted to for weeks now. Honestly, I've just been scared.”

Your heart clenches slightly. Alexia Putellas—one of the strongest, bravest people you know—scared? It moves you deeply. “Why scared?” you ask quietly, desperately needing to understand her side of this.

She sighs, setting the spatula down, her eyes filled with sincerity. “Because I know things went wrong, and we both made mistakes. I was scared we couldn’t come back from it. That maybe I'd lost you for good.”

Your chest tightens at her admission. Reaching your hand forward, you softly place it over hers, intertwining your fingers gently. “You haven’t lost me. You never did. I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

She shakes her head firmly, turning her hand upward so your palms touch warmly. “That could never happen,” she whispers earnestly, eyes glistening slightly with unshed emotion.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling vulnerable yet strangely safe. “How did it get so complicated between us?”

She squeezes your hand reassuringly, looking deeply into your eyes. “Because we stopped talking. We both got stubborn, afraid of rejection, of getting hurt even more, and suddenly the silence grew so loud neither of us knew how to break it. I should've been braver.”

“So should I,” you admit softly. “I'm sorry for running away from the conversation. I was afraid you'd say you were done even though I know I said I was.”

Alexia steps closer, gently cupping your face in her hand. Her voice is clear and unwavering as she says, “I could never be done with you. Ever. You're the best part of my life.”

Your heart soars at her words, the heaviness in your chest lifting instantly. You lean slightly into her touch, eyes closing briefly, cherishing the tender connection. “You’re my best part, too,” you whisper back.

She smiles warmly, thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone. “So what do we do now? How do we fix this?”

You open your eyes slowly, meeting her gentle gaze. “We communicate better. No more assumptions, no more silence. If something hurts, we say it. If something’s confusing, we talk. And we trust each other again.”

She nods, her expression filled with genuine hope and relief. “I want that. I promise to talk and listen, to always be honest, even when it's difficult.”

You squeeze her hand softly. “Me too. And... thank you for last night—for taking care of me. You didn't have to, after everything.”

She leans down, gently pressing her forehead to yours. Her voice drops to a tender whisper. “I'll always be there for you. Always.”

You feel tears gathering, relief and happiness intertwined so completely you can’t separate them. Smiling gently, you lean in, brushing your lips softly against hers—a tender, sweet kiss filled with promise, forgiveness, and the joy of starting fresh.

Pulling back slightly, Alexia smiles lovingly. “Now, let me finish cooking dinner before I burn it completely.”

You laugh lightly, the sound beautifully freeing. You feel lighter, hopeful, deeply comforted. You know now, without a doubt, that you and Alexia are finally on a path toward healing—and this time, nothing will stand between you.

You watch Alexia as she turns back to the stove, the golden light of the kitchen casting a soft glow around her. There’s a warmth in your chest, a gentle hum of relief and happiness that you hadn’t felt in so long. Everything between you feels lighter now, but there’s still a nervous flutter inside you, an uncertainty that lingers in the wake of everything you’ve been through together.

Your fingers fidget against the counter as you hesitate for a moment, your heart thudding in anticipation. Swallowing lightly, you shift in your seat, voice barely above a whisper as you murmur, “Just one more thing before you finish cooking dinner…”

Alexia turns her head slightly, her eyebrows raising in quiet amusement. “Yeah?” she asks, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. 

You hesitate again, suddenly feeling incredibly shy under her gaze. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the counter, your voice quiet and unsure. “C-Can I… have a kiss?” 

The words feel foreign on your tongue, hesitant and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t meant them to sound. You immediately drop your gaze, afraid of how she’ll react, the fear of rejection still lurking somewhere deep in the back of your mind. Maybe it’s too soon, maybe she doesn’t want that yet but, before you can spiral any further, you feel her presence right in front of you.

Gently, her fingers tilt your chin upward, guiding your gaze back to hers. The warmth in her eyes is undeniable, soft, reassuring, filled with something tender that makes your stomach flutter.

“You don’t have to be nervous about asking me that, ever” she says quietly, her thumb brushing over your cheek ever so lightly. “Of course, you can have a kiss.”

Your breath catches as she leans in slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, but you don’t. Instead, you close the small gap between you, pressing your lips hesitantly to hers. It’s soft, delicate, almost unsure at first, but Alexia’s hands settle gently at your waist, grounding you, making you feel safe.

She deepens the kiss just slightly, not pushing, just reassuring. Her lips move slowly against yours, and you can feel her smile against your mouth, as if she’s been waiting for this just as much as you have.

When you finally pull away, your face feels warm, your heart racing, and you don’t even need to look in a mirror to know you’re blushing.

Alexia chuckles softly, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before whispering, “You don’t ever have to be shy about that, cariño.”

You nod wordlessly, still feeling breathless from the kiss, a little dazed but undeniably happy. 

Alexia grins at your expression, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before stepping back toward the stove. “Alright, now I really have to finish cooking. But later? You can ask me for as many kisses as you want.”

You duck your head, smiling to yourself as you watch her continue cooking, your heart lighter than it’s been in weeks. Maybe things weren’t perfect yet, but they were getting there one kiss at a time.

You sit at the kitchen counter, your heart still fluttering from the soft, lingering kiss Alexia had just given you. Your face is warm, and the shyness still lingers in your chest, but there’s something undeniably comforting about the way she so easily reassured you.  

The soft clatter of kitchen utensils and the gentle sizzling of food fill the air as Alexia resumes cooking. Every so often, she sneaks a glance in your direction, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.  

You rest your chin on your palm, watching her work. The way she moves around her kitchen is so natural, so familiar. It feels like home—like the home you had been missing all this time.  

She stirs something in the pan, then glances back at you. “Are you just going to stare at me the whole time?” she teases, arching an eyebrow.  

Your eyes widen slightly, and you immediately avert your gaze, flustered. “No!” you protest, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.  

Alexia chuckles softly, shaking her head as she plates the food. “You’re cute when you get all shy,” she murmurs, almost to herself, but you hear it.  

You bite your lip, still nervous, but feeling safer in her presence than you have in weeks.  

A moment later, she places a plate in front of you and slides onto the stool next to you. The scent of the food is rich and inviting, making your stomach rumble softly. You realise that, in the chaos of last night, you hadn't eaten much at all.  

"Eat," she urges gently, nudging your hand with her own. "You need to get some strength back after… you know."  

You nod, ducking your head slightly in embarrassment but picking up your fork nonetheless. The first bite melts in your mouth, full of warmth and flavour. It’s simple, but it’s perfect, and the fact that she made it for you makes it even better.  

“This is really good,” you mumble between bites, looking at her with sincere appreciation.  

Alexia smiles, pleased. “Of course, it is. I’m not just good at football, you know.”  

You let out a small laugh, and she watches you with a soft expression, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the countertop. A comfortable silence settles between you both, but you can feel the weight of the deeper conversation that still lingers in the air.  

After a few more bites, you place your fork down, taking a deep breath. “Alexia,” you say quietly, shifting to face her fully. “I meant it when I said I want to fix things. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”  

Her expression softens immediately. “I don’t either,” she says, voice steady but full of emotion. “I hated the distance between us. I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”  

You nod, your fingers twitching slightly against the table. “I don’t either. But I don’t want to mess this up again. I want to do better.”  

Alexia reaches for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. Her grip is warm, steady, reassuring. “Then let’s take it one step at a time. No pressure, no rushing—just us, figuring things out together.”  

You squeeze her hand, feeling a wave of emotion rush over you. “Together,” you repeat softly.  

She smiles, squeezing back. “Together.”  

For the first time in what feels like forever, you truly believe it.

As you finish eating, the weight of everything slowly settles. The conversation had been good, healing even, but there’s still something lingering in the air, a hesitation, a quiet reluctance that neither of you have acknowledged yet.  

Alexia picks up both of your plates, moving them to the sink before turning back to face you. She leans against the counter, crossing her arms, her expression gentle but observant.  

“So,” she says softly, watching you carefully, “do you want me to take you back home?”  

The question makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. You know she’s only asking because it’s the reasonable thing to do—because she doesn’t want to assume anything, doesn’t want to push. But the thought of leaving this space, of going back to your own apartment where everything still feels empty and distant, fills you with a quiet dread.  

You hesitate just a moment too long.  

Alexia notices immediately. Her eyes soften, and she takes a step closer, tilting her head slightly as she studies your face. “You don’t really want to go, do you?”  

You exhale slowly, dropping your gaze. “I… I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight.”  

Alexia’s expression shifts into something even softer, something impossibly full of warmth and understanding. She nods once, stepping fully into your space and reaching for your hand again, her thumb running soothing circles over your skin.  

“Then stay,” she says simply. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”  

You look up at her, searching her face. “Are you sure?”  

Alexia lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head. “Of course, I’m sure. Do you really think I’d want you to leave when I can tell you don’t want to?”  

You swallow hard, emotions swelling in your chest. “Thank you,” you murmur, squeezing her hand lightly.  

She squeezes back, her smile reassuring. “Come on,” she says, tugging you gently toward the living room. “Let’s get comfortable.”  

She leads you to the couch, settling down beside you, her arm draped casually over the backrest, close enough for you to lean into if you want to. There’s no pressure, just quiet reassurance.  

You hesitate for only a moment before shifting slightly, curling into her side, resting your head against her shoulder. Alexia exhales softly, tilting her head to rest lightly against yours, her fingers drawing absentminded patterns on your arm.  

The room is quiet, just the distant hum of the city outside and the soft sound of your breathing. You feel safe—truly safe—for the first time in weeks.  

“You’re not alone,” Alexia whispers after a while, her voice gentle but firm. “Not now, not ever.”  

You close your eyes, breathing her in, and let yourself believe it.

---

You wake up to the smell of fresh coffee and the quiet hum of the city outside Alexia’s window. Your head is pounding, your mouth is dry, and your stomach is still slightly uneasy, but none of that seems to matter when you roll over and see her sitting beside the bed, legs pulled up onto the chair, watching you with quiet amusement.  

“You’re alive,” she comments, tilting her head. “Barely.”  

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “Remind me never to drink again.”  

She smirks. “I told you last night, but you didn’t seem interested in my advice.”  

There’s a warmth in her voice that makes your heart squeeze a little. Last night is a blur, but what you do remember is Alexia taking care of you. Holding you when you were sick. Laughing at your ridiculous drunken rambling. Sitting by your side, refusing to sleep, even when exhaustion was evident in her face.  

You sit up slowly, running a hand through your messy hair. Alexia is still watching you, her face unreadable now. Like she’s waiting for you to say something, to address the thing that’s been sitting between you for too long now.  

You take a deep breath. It’s now or never.  

“I’ve made a decision,” you say, voice still hoarse from sleep.  

Alexia raises an eyebrow. “About what?”  

“About us,” you say simply.  

She blinks, sitting up a little straighter.  

“I want it all with you,” you continue, voice steadier now. “The wedding, the house, the kids. Even the scruffy little dog from the shelter that I wouldn’t be able to leave behind because it looks at me with sad eyes.”  

Alexia’s lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face. You can see the wheels turning in her head, the careful way she processes your words like she doesn’t want to let herself believe them too quickly.  

“I don’t want you to ever think that I’m behind you or unsure,” you say firmly. “Because I’d have it all with you tomorrow if I could.”  

She exhales a breath she’s been holding, eyes softening in that way that makes your chest ache. “You would?”  

“In a heartbeat,” you promise. “If you asked me to, I’d marry you in this apartment, in our pajamas, with a takeaway pizza as our wedding dinner. Because none of the details matter to me. What matters is you.”  

Alexia’s face breaks into the softest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. And suddenly, all the tension that’s been between you for months melts away like it was never there to begin with. She shakes her head, laughing quietly. “You are impossible.”  

You grin. “But you like me anyway.”  

Alexia doesn’t hesitate this time. “I love you anyway.”  

And that’s all you need. “I love you” you speak as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

For a moment, there’s just silence—soft, warm, and full of things unspoken. Alexia is still looking at you like she’s trying to memorise every part of you, her lips curved in that rare smile, the one that makes your heart stumble.  

“I love you,” she says again, quieter this time, like she’s still tasting the words, still letting herself believe this is real.  

You reach for her hand instinctively, threading your fingers through hers. She squeezes lightly, grounding you in that simple touch.  

“Do you mean it?” she asks after a beat, her voice uncharacteristically small. “All of it?”  

You nod without hesitation. “Every single word. The wedding, the house, the kids, the scruffy little dog—I want all of it with you.”  

Alexia huffs out a soft laugh, shaking her head as if you’re ridiculous. But there’s no denying the way her thumb brushes over your knuckles like she’s reassuring herself you’re really here, saying these things.  

“So, what’s the plan?” she teases, tilting her head trying to lighten the mood but you get a bit carried away, it was all you’d thought about in your space the last week. “Big wedding or small?”  

You grin, grateful that she’s letting you dream out loud. “Small. Just the people we love. Somewhere beautiful, but not too fancy, because I don’t want to feel like I’m in someone else’s fairytale. Just ours.”  

She nods, considering. “And the house?”  

“Something warm,” you say immediately. “With big windows and a ridiculous number of plants. A place where we can hear the rain on the roof at night.”  

Alexia smirks. “You’re getting a little poetic.”  

“I’m serious!” You squeeze her hand. “I want a home, not just a house. Somewhere we can come back to after bad games or long trips and just… be.”  

Her smile softens, and you swear there’s something glassy in her eyes now. “And the kids?”  

You hesitate for a moment, not because you’re unsure, but because you’ve never actually voiced this out loud before. “I don’t know how many,” you admit. “Maybe one, maybe two. Maybe a whole little team of them. But only if we both want that.”  

Alexia watches you carefully, the weight of your words settling between you. Then she nods, as if something clicks into place. “I’d like that,” she says softly.

You touch your stomach, “I’d carry them, so you can still play football, I’ve always wanted a bump”

And just like that, you can see it—the life you’ve been imagining, no longer some distant, impossible thing, but something real. Something within reach. You pregnant a messy faced toddler at your feet as Alexia was feeling your next kid kicking in your stomach, her teammates flooding your home all aunties to your kids they adored. You moaned about cooking for that many but you secretly loved it.

“And the dog?” she asks, her voice teasing but affectionate bringing you out your daze.  

You grin. “Oh, the dog is non-negotiable. Some scrappy little mutt that looks like it’s been through war but is secretly the sweetest thing. We’ll name it something dumb, like Pesto.”  

Alexia snorts, shaking her head. “Pesto?”  

“Or Pickles. Or Beans. Something ridiculous.”  

She laughs, tilting her head as she watches you. “You’re serious about all of this.”  

“I am.” You squeeze her hand again. “And I don’t want you to worry that I’m not where you are with any of it, Alexia. Not of this. Not of us I know I’m only 24 but I’ve always wanted a family young.”  

She swallows hard, and for a moment, you see all the walls she’s been holding up, all the doubts she’s been carrying, start to break down.  

“I’d have it all with you tomorrow,” you say again, softer this time. “If you asked me to.”  

Alexia exhales sharply, then leans forward, pressing her forehead against yours. “You’re ridiculous,” she murmurs, but there’s no bite to it.  

You smile. “But you love me anyway.”  

She closes her eyes, breathes you in, and whispers, “I do.”

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Soft Spots

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, grumpy-soft Simon, cat adoption, reader being a little mischievous, domestic vibes, light cursing, Simon reluctantly becoming a cat dad.

Author's Note: I have cat dad Simon brain rot so… yeah

Summary: You drag Simon to an animal shelter, thinking you’ll be the one to choose a pet. But when a grumpy, battle-scarred tomcat and an energetic little kitten catch his eye, Simon unexpectedly becomes a cat dad. And maybe, just maybe, you realize that the two little furballs aren’t so different from the two of you.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You had been working on Simon for weeks.

Ever since you passed the animal shelter with its brightly colored sign reading Adopt, Don’t Shop! and its adorable display of kittens in the window, you had been determined to bring a cat into your lives. Simon, however, had been resistant.

“Too much work,” he grumbled the first time you brought it up.

“You literally take care of me,” you shot back.

He had given you a deadpan look, arms crossed. “You’re already enough of a handful.”

Yet, despite his stubborn refusal, here you were—standing in the middle of the shelter, surrounded by cages, the air filled with the sounds of purring, meows, and the occasional yowl.

Simon stood beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, his mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes flicked over the various cats, unreadable as ever.

You expected yourself to be the one to choose. But then—

“This one,” Simon muttered.

You blinked, turning to see him crouched in front of a large metal cage. Inside sat a scruffy-looking gray tomcat with thick fur, a torn ear, and piercing yellow eyes. His expression was pure judgment.

“Wait—really?” you asked, stunned.

Simon barely glanced at you, still engaged in a silent staring contest with the cat. “Yeah.”

You stared at the cat—who stared right back with the same unimpressed energy as Simon.

“Well,” you said, crossing your arms. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you picked the grumpiest one here.”

Before Simon could respond, something small and fast darted across the cage—a fluffy white kitten with bright blue eyes. She tumbled right into Smokey’s side, letting out a high-pitched meow.

The older cat huffed but, instead of swatting her away, immediately started grooming her, licking her tiny head with exaggerated, slow strokes. The kitten let out a delighted purr and pressed closer, practically glued to his side.

“Oh my God.” You clutched Simon’s arm, eyes wide.

He stiffened slightly. “What?”

“They love each other. We can’t separate them.”

Simon exhaled through his nose. “We’re here for one cat.”

“You were here for one cat,” you corrected, still staring at the duo. The tiny kitten—whom you had already mentally named Beans—was now happily nuzzling against Smokey’s belly. Smokey, despite his grumpy demeanor, curled a protective paw around her.

It was too much. Your heart was melting into a puddle right then and there.

“Simon,” you said seriously, turning to him with wide, pleading eyes. “Look at them. That’s his baby.”

Simon hesitated. He turned back to the cage, watching the way Smokey let out a long-suffering sigh but continued to let the kitten crawl all over him.

A long silence stretched between you.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Simon muttered, “...Fine.”

You beamed. “You’re gonna be the best cat dad.”

He shot you a look. “Don’t push it.”

—

Bringing them home was chaos.

Smokey took to the apartment like a battle-hardened veteran. He strode into each room with cautious, calculated steps, sniffing everything with a skeptical expression before settling himself on the couch like he owned the place.

Beans, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of pure energy.

She zoomed across the living room, her tiny paws skidding against the hardwood floor as she crashed into furniture legs, meowed at nothing, and repeatedly attempted to jump onto the couch—only to fall back down every time.

You watched, covering your mouth to stifle a giggle. “She’s like a menace in a tiny package.”

Simon, standing beside you with his arms crossed, let out a quiet huff. “Yeah. Reckon Smokey’s regrettin’ his life choices.”

As if on cue, Beans tried—and failed—to jump onto the couch yet again. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeak. Smokey, clearly unimpressed, simply reached down, grabbed her scruff, and pulled her up himself.

Your heart melted.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. You turned to Simon, eyes sparkling. “That’s you.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“You and Smokey. Both grumpy, both act like you don’t care—but secretly, you’re soft.” You gestured at Beans, who was now gleefully kneading into Smokey’s side. “And she’s me. Clingy, loud, and never leaves you alone.”

Simon exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re not that bad.”

You grinned, nudging him. “Admit it. You love me.”

His arm slid around your waist, pulling you close. “You’re lucky I do.”

—

Days turned into weeks, and Simon’s resistance crumbled.

He acted like the cats were your responsibility, but you’d walk into the living room only to find him sitting on the floor, one hand absentmindedly scratching behind Smokey’s ear while Beans curled up in his lap.

Or you’d wake up in the middle of the night and see a lump under the blankets, only to pull them back and find both cats curled up against Simon’s chest, his hand resting protectively over Beans.

The real breaking point came when you caught him talking to them.

“Smokey, you let her get away with too much,” he muttered one evening, watching as Beans clambered onto his leg. “Gotta set boundaries, mate.”

Smokey flicked an ear, unbothered.

You leaned against the doorway, smirking. “Giving dad advice now?”

Simon sighed, but there was no real bite to it. “If I don’t, no one will.”

Grinning, you made your way over, sitting beside him on the couch. Beans immediately abandoned Smokey to crawl onto your lap, purring like a motor.

“You know,” you murmured, resting your head against Simon’s shoulder, “I was right. Smokey and Beans are just like us.”

Simon hummed, rubbing slow circles against your hip. “Think so?”

You nodded. “Yeah. You act all tough, but secretly, you’re soft. And me? I’m annoying but impossible to get rid of.”

Simon chuckled. “Never wanted to get rid of you.”

Your heart flipped. You turned to him, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

Simon huffed, amused, but you could feel the warmth in his touch.

As if mirroring the sentiment, Beans let out a tiny, happy chirp and burrowed into your hoodie, while Smokey sprawled lazily against Simon’s side.

Yeah. You had officially turned Simon Riley into a cat dad.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[linoxpudding]

Written In The Stars- Lee Know

summary: he's your soulmate, but he's already in love with someone else

pairing: lee know x fem!reader

genre: angst, soulmate au, unrequited love

word count: 1828 words

a/n: this was requested, really loved this concept— should I do part 2? 👀

Masterlist

~°~

You had always dreamed of meeting your soulmate. As a hopeless romantic, you had imagined it all—the instant connection, the rush of emotions, the realization that this was the person meant for you.

From the time you were little, you'd trace the blank space on your wrist, imagining the mark that would one day bloom there—the sign of your destined person. Stories of soulmates finding each other had filled your heart with longing, whispering promises of a love so deep, so undeniable, that nothing could stand in its way.

And then on a fateful morning, three months after you turned thirteen, it happened.

A delicate star-shaped pattern shimmered on your wrist, fading from golden light into solid ink.

This was it.

Your breath had caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you traced over the pattern with shaking fingers. It was real.

Your soulmate was out there.

And you were going to find them.

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

You had spent years searching—watching, waiting, hoping. But soulmarks were unpredictable. Some people found their destined person right away. Others searched for years, only to meet their soulmate at the most unexpected moment.

For you, it happened through Bang Chan.

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

You had known Chan for a while now, having met through mutual friends, and occasionally you hung out with his group that consisted of your mutual friends from college. One evening, he invited you over for a casual get-together at his place. You had no idea how much your life was about to change.

When you arrived, laughter and conversation filled the apartment. People greeted you warmly, but your attention was drawn to him.

Lee Minho. 

There was something about him that intrigued you. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, confident yet not overbearing. Maybe it was his sharp eyes that held mischief and mystery. He was handsome, almost unfairly so, with an aura that pulled attention effortlessly.

The moment you met, there was some sort of instant spark. 

As the night went on, he was leaning back in his chair, eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched you argue with Jisung, another close friend of Chan that he introduced you to, over some ridiculous topic. And then he joined in.

The two of you had gone back and forth for at least ten minutes, teasing and taunting each other like you had known each other for years.

“Wow,” Minho had finally said, crossing his arms with a smirk, “Chan, where have you been hiding this one?”

Chan had laughed, “Right? I knew you two would get along.”

And from that moment on, you did.

The banter was easy, natural, like a rhythm you had both unknowingly fallen into. He would throw a jab, and you would return it without missing a beat. It became something of a game— one that neither of you acknowledged but played anyway. 

After that night at Chan’s place, you and Minho exchanged numbers, a silent agreement to keep in touch. But life was busy— too busy for long conversations or one-on-one meetings. Your interactions were limited to occasional group hangouts, fleeting moments where you’d exchange teasing remarks and match each other’s humor effortlessly.

For a while that was enough, until you saw the mark.

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

It happened weeks later, on a movie night at Changbin and Hyunjin’s place. It was a casual kind of movie night where everyone showed up in sweats, curled into couches with blankets draped over their laps, trading playful jabs between mouthfuls of popcorn. The air smelled like butter and cinnamon-scented candles, and the TV flickered with a half-watched movie as conversations overlapped.

Minho sat across from you, comfortably leaning into the cushions, his usual smirk in place as he fired off another joke. The room erupted into laughter, but yours was the loudest— it always was when it came to him. It was effortless, the way the two of you fell into banter, the way he made you laugh like no one else could.

And then, in the midst of it all, he reached for his coffee.

It was such a small thing, so inconsequential, yet it changed everything.

His sleeve rode up slightly, exposing the inside of his wrist for the briefest moment. But that moment was enough.

Your laughter faded. Your pulse stilled.

Because there, etched into his skin, was your mark.

The very same pattern you had spent your whole life tracing absentmindedly, the one you had dreamed of seeing on someone else one day. On your soulmate.

Lee Minho was your soulmate.

The world should have stopped. This should have been the moment where everything clicked into place, where the universe finally made sense. But before the thought could fully form, a voice cut through the haze.

“Sorry, babe. I’m late.”

A woman appeared beside him, her tone light, affectionate. She leaned in without hesitation, pressing a kiss to his lips as her hand came to rest on his shoulder like she had done it a hundred times before.

Minho turned to her, his smirk softening into something warmer, something real. It was love.

You thought you knew him well enough. Well enough to anticipate his dry jokes, to recognize the mischievous glint in his eye before he spoke. But clearly not well enough to know he had a girlfriend.

And that was when you knew. Minho wasn’t waiting for a soulmate. Because he was already in love with someone else.

You barely remembered the rest of that night. You smiled, you laughed when appropriate, you responded to conversations, but your mind was elsewhere. On him. On her. On the way he looked at her, touched her, stood beside her like she was his world.

And that realization destroyed you.

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

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

The mark wasn’t a command. It wasn’t a guarantee of love, just a promise that this was the person who was meant to understand you like no one else could.

So you stayed.

Not because you were waiting. Not because you were hoping. But because leaving felt impossible.

Chan’s group became your own, and Minho was always there—laughing, teasing, existing so effortlessly in your world. 

At first, it was unbearable.

Every time he absentmindedly rubbed the mark on his wrist, a quiet frown flickering across his face, your stomach twisted. Did he feel it too? Did he ever wonder?

But then his girlfriend would call, and he would answer with a voice so gentle it made you want to scream.

She was perfect. Kind, beautiful, talented, and Minho loved her. He was happy.

And you? You were just his friend with the same mark.

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

The months that followed felt like moving through water—slow, heavy, suffocating.

You tried convincing yourself that nothing had changed. That Minho was still just a friend, a fleeting presence in your life, someone you saw in passing at group hangouts and laughed with over inside jokes. But knowing the truth made every interaction feel heavier, every lingering glance, every easy banter laced with something you couldn’t ignore.

And yet, he remained blissfully unaware. He didn’t know. He didn’t see.

Not until that night.

The party at your friend’s penthouse was loud, the music thrumming through the walls, laughter and conversation bleeding together into a dull hum. But you weren’t part of it. Instead, you stood in the dimly lit kitchen, gripping the counter so tightly your knuckles turned white, trying to steady yourself against the weight in your chest.

You weren’t sure why you had come. Maybe some part of you still craved the normalcy of being around him, of pretending nothing had changed. Maybe you were just tired of avoiding him.

“Hey,” he greeted you, entering the kitchen. His voice was soft, but it made your stomach drop, “You're still here?”

You didn’t turn right away. You couldn’t. You replied weakly, “Yeah, needed a breather.”

He hummed, reaching for a glass of water. His movements were effortless, casual—until he caught sight of your wrist.

His body went rigid beside you. His eyes flickered from your mark to his own. You felt it before you saw it— the way the air shifted, the sharp intake of his breath, the stillness that settled between you like a physical thing. 

You felt your chest tighten.

“…It’s you,” he whispered.

Slowly, hesitantly, you followed his gaze down to your wrist.

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

You watched as realization hit him like a crashing wave, his expression flickering through shock, confusion, and something deeper—something you didn’t want to name.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

And then, finally, he did.

“But…” His voice was quiet, almost fragile. He swallowed, staring at you like he wished he could unsee it. “But I love her.”

Three words.

Three words that carved into you deeper than you thought possible.

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, to absorb the quiet devastation in his eyes— the same devastation mirrored in your own.

“I know,” you said, offering him a small, trembling smile. “I know, it's okay.”

His head snapped up, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “No, it’s not.”

And that was the difference between you.

You had spent weeks coming to terms with the inevitable, had learned to swallow down the ache every time you saw him with her. But for him, this was the first time. This was his moment of realization, and it was breaking him apart in real time.

His voice was rough when he spoke again, like he was fighting against something he didn’t understand. “How long have you known?”

Your lips parted, the answer lingering on the tip of your tongue. But what would that change?

“Does it matter?” you asked softly, finally meeting his gaze.

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with frustration— at you, at himself, at the cruel twist of fate that had led you here.

“I should’ve known,” he muttered, shaking his head, his voice filled with something raw and painful. “I should have—”

“Minho.”

Your voice was steadier than you felt. He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you could see it—the weight of it, the way his heart and mind waged a silent war.

He didn’t want to hurt you. But he loved her.

You reached for him before you could stop yourself, your fingers just barely brushing against his wrist before pulling away. A silent offering. A silent goodbye.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, softer this time. “You love her.”

And that was the end of it.

Minho exhaled, a shaky, uneven breath. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, anything, but no words came.

There was nothing left to say.

So you smiled, even as your heart cracked, even as you felt the finality of it settle into your bones. And then you turned, slipping out of the kitchen and back into the party, leaving Minho alone with the mark that had changed everything.

Minho was never meant to be yours.

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

Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @vietjeb @my-neurodivergent-world

[heeluvv]

NOONA.ᐟ

pairingᝰ.ᐟ nishimura riki x reader

genreᝰ.ᐟ smut

warningsᝰ.ᐟ fingering, oral (f), etc.

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the sharp chime of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, pulling you away from your last-minute preparations. with a quick pat down of your outfit, you made your way to the door, barely managing to twist the handle before you were engulfed in a tight embrace.

"y/n! i haven't seen you in so long!" juri's excited voice rang out, her arms squeezing you so tightly that you nearly lost your balance. you let out a breathless laugh, wrapping your own arms around her before she finally pulled back, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

she stepped inside, immediately taking in her surroundings with an appreciative gasp, her mouth parting as she glanced around your apartment. "oh my god, y/n, your place is so cute! it's so... you." she beamed, running her fingers over the little decorations you'd placed around to make the space feel homey.

turning back to the door, you expected to see more of juri's things, maybe another bag she needed help with, but instead, you were met with the presence of someone else—someone taller, broader, and almost unrecognizably mature.

standing just outside your doorway was him.

riki.

his presence was commanding, even in his stillness. dressed in a simple black hoodie with the hood pulled up, the shadows cast over his face only made his sharp, piercing gaze more intense. he stood casually, one hand gripping the strap of his bag, the other tucked into his pocket, yet there was an air of quiet confidence radiating off of him—one that hadn't been there before.

his lips curved into a smirk, something almost teasing in the way his dark eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight of you just as much as you were doing to him.

"hi, noona," he finally spoke, his voice deeper, smoother than you remembered, carrying a weight to it that sent an unexplainable shiver down your spine.

your mind was working overtime, struggling to process the reality before you. the riki you remembered—the sweet, wide-eyed boy who used to tug at your shirt and beg for your attention—was nowhere to be found. instead, in his place stood a man, tall and undeniably attractive, with a knowing smirk playing on his lips like he was reveling in your disbelief.

something about the way he looked at you, the quiet confidence in his posture, made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t entirely ready to acknowledge. had he always been like this? or had he been waiting all these years just to prove something to you?

"y/n, you keep spacing out, girl. pay attention." juri’s voice snapped you out of your daze, her head resting comfortably against the couch cushions as she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the blankets. she had forced you to sit through one of her favorite shows, the same one she always made you watch, but you weren’t following a single thing happening on the screen.

you could feel it—his gaze.

it was heavy, trained on the side of your face, burning into your skin with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. you refused to meet his eyes, keeping your expression neutral as you stared ahead, but your body betrayed you, the tension stiffening your shoulders.

you needed a breather. now.

"i’ll be back," you mumbled, the words barely audible over the loud hum of the television, but you didn’t wait for a response. standing up a little too quickly, you made your way to the kitchen, gripping the counter as you grabbed a glass, filling it with water to soothe the dryness in your throat.

you took a deep breath, focusing on the cool sensation of the liquid as it slid down, hoping it would help clear your thoughts. but just as you were beginning to relax, soft footsteps echoed behind you.

"what’s wrong, noona?"

his voice was low, smooth, almost teasing, but there was something deeper behind it—something that sent another shiver down your spine.

you turned slowly, your movements deliberate as if prolonging the inevitable, but riki was already there—leaning casually against the counter, his posture relaxed, yet there was something about the way he watched you that made your skin prickle with heat. the dim kitchen lighting cast a sharp contrast against his features, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the glint of mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

"you seem pretty nervous, noona."

his voice was smooth, a touch too knowing, his smirk deepening as he took in the way you fidgeted, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as if grounding yourself.

"no, i'm fine," you managed, though the words barely held conviction.

you turned your head, setting the cup down with more force than necessary, willing yourself to focus on anything but him. but riki wasn’t one to be ignored. before you could move away, he was already closing the space between you, his presence overwhelming as the warmth of his body radiated near yours.

his hand came up, calloused fingertips grazing against your cheek with an almost featherlight touch, but it was enough to send a jolt down your spine. the contrast between the softness of his touch and the intensity in his gaze had your breath hitching in your throat.

"do i make you nervous, noona?"

the way he said it—it wasn’t really a question. his sharp eyes stayed locked onto yours, searching, challenging, waiting for you to react.

"you’ve been acting like this ever since you saw me."

his voice dipped lower, barely above a murmur, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. his thumb brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin up ever so slightly, forcing you to truly look at him.

"i think it's best if we go back…" your voice wavered, but the words had no real strength behind them. you tried to move, to step away, but before you could even attempt an escape, riki’s grip tightened—his other hand finding purchase on your waist, fingers pressing firmly against your skin.

"i've waited so long to have you like this, noona," he murmured, voice laced with something dark and unreadable. his words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as he leaned in closer, his towering frame caging you in effortlessly.

you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his presence wrapped around you like a vice, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. the air between you was thick, the tension unbearable.

"always wanted you to look at me like a man. you are now, aren’t you?"

his nose brushed against yours, the teasing action only making your heart hammer harder against your ribcage. a soft chuckle rumbled from his chest, the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips, making it impossible to focus on anything but him.

"i’m not letting this go so easily."

before you could even process what was happening, his lips crashed onto yours, fierce and demanding. the kiss was nothing like what you expected—no hesitation, no softness. he kissed you like he had something to prove, like he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

his hands held you firmly, his grip unrelenting as he pulled you impossibly close, leaving no space between your bodies. the sheer desperation in the way he moved sent your mind spinning, his lips molding perfectly against yours, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs.

and just like that, any protest you had dissolved into nothing.

his lips trailed down the column of your neck, each kiss hotter, wetter, more intoxicating than the last. the contrast of his soft lips and the occasional scrape of his teeth sent chills down your spine, a sharp gasp escaping you as his mouth latched onto the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"i'm gonna show you the man i've become, noona," he whispered against your skin, his voice deep, thick with want. the promise laced in his words made your stomach twist, anticipation and something much more dangerous curling low in your core.

his hands worked with purpose, fingers fumbling with the waistband of your pants, impatience clear in the way he dragged them down in one swift motion, your panties following suit. the cool air hit your exposed skin, sending a wave of heat coursing through you, but nothing compared to the feeling of riki sinking to his knees before you, eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of your bare pussy.

a guttural groan rumbled deep in his chest, his hands gripping your thighs as he spread them apart, eyes flickering up to meet yours. "fuck, noona…" he exhaled, his gaze locked on your glistening folds, the sight alone enough to make him twitch in his pants.

his fingers ghosted over your clit, teasing, featherlight touches that had your legs trembling before he finally applied pressure, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had you whimpering instantly.

"so fucking pretty," he murmured, his touch never faltering, his breath hot against your inner thighs. "and all for me, right, noona?"

a soft, broken whimper slipped past your lips as his fingers pressed into your soaked entrance, the stretch sudden and unrelenting. riki didn’t give you a moment to adjust, didn’t ease you into the sensation—he simply drove his fingers in deep, curling them just right before pulling back and plunging them in again, setting a ruthless pace that had your body jolting with every thrust.

the slick, obscene sounds of your arousal mixed with the muffled noise from the tv in the other room, the contrast between the two making your face burn hotter. it was filthy—the way his fingers pumped into you so desperately, so possessively, like he had been starved for this moment.

"so fucking wet for me… shit," riki groaned, his voice thick with need, his sharp eyes flickering up to catch every microexpression that crossed your face—the way your brows knit together in pleasure, the way your lips parted to let out the sweetest moans, the way your thighs trembled as he buried himself knuckle-deep inside you.

he twisted his wrist slightly, adjusting his angle until his fingers brushed against that one spot that had your entire body jerking, a strangled cry escaping you as your hands scrambled for something to hold onto. he chuckled darkly, his free hand gripping your hip, keeping you pinned in place.

"you always treated me like a kid, noona," he murmured, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "but look at you now, falling apart on my fingers… tell me, do i still seem like a little boy to you?"

the room felt suffocating, the heat of his body pressed against you only making it worse, or better—you weren’t sure anymore. everything felt hazy, your mind clouded by the sensation of his touch, the way his fingers moved with purpose, with intent, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. the soft glow of the kitchen lights casted a golden hue over his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the dark flicker in his eyes as he watched your every reaction. he looked absolutely ravenous, like a man who had been starved for years and was finally being allowed a taste.

his fingers thrust into you with a steady rhythm, stretching you, filling you, dragging against your walls in a way that made your breath hitch and your legs tremble. the wet sounds of your arousal mixed with the distant noise of the television in the living room, a stark contrast between the innocent world outside this kitchen and the sinful one riki was dragging you into.

"fuck, noona… you’re soaking my fingers," he groaned, his voice thick, dripping with something dark, something almost possessive. his thumb flicked over your clit in slow, deliberate strokes, each one sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. your fingers gripped the edge of the counter for support, knuckles turning white as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

"r-riki…" you whimpered, barely able to form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

he chuckled, low and deep, the sound vibrating through your core. "you used to treat me like a kid," he mused, his pace never faltering, never slowing. "but look at you now, noona. falling apart on my fingers… so desperate, so needy for me."

his words had your stomach twisting, shame and arousal mixing into something dangerously intoxicating. he was right. you had always babied him, always brushed off his attempts to prove that he was no longer the little boy who used to tug on your shirt for attention. but now? now he had you pinned against the counter, his fingers deep inside you, making you feel things you had never felt before.

before you could process it, he withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving you empty, aching. you barely had time to whine in protest before he was kneeling before you, spreading your legs even wider, his broad shoulders preventing any attempt to close them. his eyes were locked onto your soaked pussy, his breath warm as it fanned over your sensitive skin.

"so fucking pretty," he muttered, almost to himself, before leaning in, his lips ghosting over your inner thighs, teasing, torturing. his fingers traced lazy circles over your clit, making you shudder beneath his touch.

"w-wait, riki…"

his tongue darted out, flicking against your clit in a slow, agonizingly teasing motion that had you gasping. your hands flew to his hair, gripping the soft strands as your body jolted from the unexpected pleasure. his tongue moved expertly, alternating between slow, languid licks and quick flicks that had your thighs trembling.

"oh, my god—" you moaned, eyes fluttering shut as you tried to focus on breathing, on the overwhelming sensation of his mouth devouring you. he sucked on your clit, rolling it between his lips, groaning at the taste of you like he was savoring the most exquisite meal.

"taste so fucking sweet," he murmured against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. his fingers returned, pushing into you with ease now, curling just right, pressing against that sensitive spot that had you seeing stars.

your body was on fire, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach, threatening to snap at any moment. your moans grew louder, more desperate, and riki only encouraged it, his pace never faltering, never slowing, as if he wanted to push you over the edge, to completely ruin you.

"riki, i—i can’t," you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening as your hips bucked against his mouth, chasing the pleasure that was so close, so unbearably close.

he pulled back just enough to glance up at you, his lips glistening with your arousal, his pupils blown wide with desire. "yes, you can," he whispered, his voice low and commanding. "be a good girl and cum for me, noona."

and with that, he buried his face between your thighs again, his tongue working you over with relentless precision, his fingers pumping into you faster, harder, until the tension in your stomach snapped, sending you spiraling into pure bliss.

"oh—oh my god!" you cried out, your entire body convulsing, pleasure washing over you in waves so intense you thought you might black out.

but he didn’t stop. he kept going, licking up every last drop, prolonging your orgasm, keeping you on that high until your legs were shaking violently, until your head was spinning, until the only thing you could do was whimper weakly, too overstimulated to handle any more.

finally, finally, he pulled away, his breathing heavy as he stood up, towering over you once again. his hand cupped your face, his thumb swiping over your swollen lips as he smirked down at you, his other hand reaching down to undo his belt.

"we’re not done yet, noona," he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful intent. "now… let me show you just how much i’ve grown."

natty's notesᝰ.ᐟ been so busy you guys and i apologize but i am back to complete your request !! (idk how i feel about this, let me know if yall like it :))

[cynical-ghost]

MUST BE THE WATER

Pt2

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Genre: SMAU-Social media

Warning(s): use of Yn

Synopsis: Charles and Yn are forced to move house after there apartment is flooded.

Ynforeal

Liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, CL16Yn and 1,352,213 others

Ynforeal I don’t remember ordering an indoor water feature but here we are 🤷‍♀️

Lilymhe oh my goodness! wtf happened

Ynforeal I have no clue, kinda freaking out 🤭

Lilymhe I’m on my way!

Charles_leclerc mon Ange, what happened? Are you ok?

Ynforeal we have an indoor pool, bring your swimming trunks!

Ynforeal never mind the roof just caved in, the pool is now contaminated

Charles_leclerc Yn I’m on my way back, are you ok?

Ynforeal I’m standing outside with lily, I managed to get Leo and a phone charger out safely.

Charles_leclerc I’m two minutes away.

CL16Yn bloody hell, I hope you’re ok!

User25 how is she so calm? I would be panicking so bad 😭

User15 she replied to lily that she was freaking out, I think she used humour to cope

Ynforeal 👍

Gossip_grid

Liked on by CL16YN, user15, Leoschewtoy and 854,253 others

Gossip_grid After an alarming post from @/Ynforeal showed her and her long term boyfriend, Charles Leclerc’s apartment poring water form the ceiling before collapsing, it’s come to light that the building had a water pipe burst that had gone unnoticed for a long time resulting in the dire consequences.

The couple and there dachshund, Leo are unharmed and are searching for a new home. We at gossip_grid are wishing the couple the best in there situation. ❤️🤍❤️

User15 The owners of the building should have done checks on the pipes and electrics to make sure they were up to standard!

User2 sending love from Australia 🫶

Ynismymother I hope they find a new place to stay soon, one of their friends or family members could offer them a place to stay while they search if they don’t find one straight away.

Charles_Leclerc posted a story!

Ynforeal

Liked by Charles_leclerc, lilymhe, Arthur_leclerc and 1,739,982 others

Ynforeal celebrating the start of a new chapter! I would just like to thank everybody for their support in such a challenging time. Both me and Charlie are now settled once again in our new home 🫶

User23 So happy for you both! Omgggg

User4 house tour when?

Charles_leclerc ❤️

Ynforeal ❤️

Monacohomes happy to see you both settled in well 🫶

Ynforeal thank you so much for your help, much love 🥰

Monacohomes happy to help ❤️

Lilymhe I would bring some food over but we’re in a hotel so I can’t cook 😭

Ynforeal @/charles_leclerc is making some pasta rn come over!

Alex_albon we’ll pass 👍

Charles_leclerc rude 🙄

[starmapz]

what you know - ch13: tribulations || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 16.2k.

❦ a/n ; it's heeeere!! so before everyone reads i just wanna give a small update. chapter 13 and 14 were written all at once and ch14 should be ready in about a week. they were originally intended to be one chapter, but 36k words felt unreasonable for a single chapter LOL, so i've split them in two. they do read somewhat as a part 1 and part 2, so the second part of the legal battle will be out next week. as well, please note that the legal details are heavily based off of a mix of canadian and australian laws and processes, so it may not match up with local laws. with that out of the way, enjoy!

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

The sound of your text chime has you cracking your eyes open before dawn even breaks. You hardly even recognize the sound, so accustomed to having your phone on vibrate. With a weak groan, you flip onto your side, peering at your phone.

It’s not even six in the morning yet, and you barely got home by midnight.

Your eyes slip down to the message previews, and you frown. Taking a moment to let your body adjust to being awake, you plop down on your mattress, draping your arm over your eyes. In hindsight, probably not the greatest idea as you jolt back awake when another text arrives.

Pulling your phone off the charger, you squint at the bright screen.

5:39 AM Kuna || yujis awake

5:39 AM Kuna || he keeps banging on their door but cho wont answer

5:52 AM Kuna || sorry

Dragging your hand over your face in an effort to wake up, you stare at the messages once more before typing your response.

5:54 AM You || Why are you sorry?

5:55 AM You || I’ll be there soon

His response comes fairly quickly in spite of the chaos you’re sure is taking place in his apartment.

5:59 AM Kuna || its early and shit

Pushing yourself out of bed to get ready, you find a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

6:01 AM You || I told you to text me, didn’t I?

6:02 AM Kuna || yeah

6:02 AM Kuna || thanks

That’s the last message you receive from him as you shower, put on a hardly noticeable amount of makeup, and throw on a comfy pink hoodie and leggings. If you could drive in a cocoon of blankets, you’d probably do that too, but you digress.

You’re standing in front of his door barely a half hour later, having gotten ready faster than ever in an effort to help. You’d definitely figured Yuji would sleep in longer, but Sukuna isn’t a particularly lucky man, so here you are before the sun has risen.

The look on his face as you open the door speaks to his luck as well. Defeat is emboldened across his features, etched into the dark circles under his eyes. A white V-neck that’s so thin you can make out his chest and shoulder tattoos beneath it hangs over his shoulders, while a pair of black sweatpants adorns his lower half. They hang so low on his hips that you can make out the band of his boxers, and lord knows you don’t need your mind going any further than that.

He may be attractive, but at the end of the day, you can’t let yourself get hurt again. Not like that.

“Hey,” he grunts tiredly, swinging the door open as the sound of Yuji sobbing fills your ears.

Shooting him a sympathetic look, you follow him inside without a word, where he leads you to Yuji. The boy is slumped against the door to his and Choso’s room, tears and snot trailing down his face as he sobs and hiccups, calling out his brother’s name between wails. Sukuna clearly tried to calm him down, based on the blanket tucked around the little boy and the plush clutched in his hands, as well as a pile of tissues that surrounds him.

Your heart drops at the sight of the little boy who holds such a dear place in your heart so devastated as he cries out for Choso. You want nothing more than to hold both kids close and let them know everything will be alright.

With his eyes shut tight, the little boy hasn’t spotted you yet.

“How long has he been crying?” You whisper to Sukuna, trying to figure out the best way to work through the situation.

Sukuna casts a glance at his phone in his pocket. “Since five.” Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he sighs. “Don’t wanna pick the lock n’ force Cho out if I don’t gotta,” he shrugs.

In all honesty, you’re a bit shocked at how strangely calm he is handling the situation, as well as how reasonable he’s being. You can’t be sure what exactly it is that’s dulling his sharper edges, between the dejection in his tone, how long this has been going on, or the weariness plaguing every movement he makes. On the other hand, it’s those same reasons that have you worried for him as signs of life seem to drain from his eyes more and more each time you see him as of late.

You spend one more moment examining Sukuna before turning your attention to Yuji.

Leaning down in front of him, you finally gain his attention. His sobs turn to sniffles for a moment as he peers at you with a lidded expression, having completely exhausted himself already. He whispers your name questioningly between gasps as though he doesn’t quite believe it’s you, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greet him with a soft smile. Before you can even begin comforting him, in a flurry of blankets and arms, he’s clinging to your leg, gripping you with as much force as he can manage. With a sad smile, you hug him as best as you can with him stuck to your leg like glue.

“I- m-missed-” he sobs, gasping to catch his breath, “you.”

“I missed you too, Yu.” Your voice is tight as you rub his back gently, blinking in your best effort to keep yourself from crying at the sight of the sweet boy hugging you with all his might.

“Do you wanna tell me what’s going on, honey?”

He backs up an inch, wiping his face again with his hands. With a hiccup, he barely manages to get out a very broken explanation of what’s going on. “Cho-” a sniffle, “won’t-” a broken sob, “let me innnnnnn,” he bawls, his words devolving into full sobs once more.

Settling on the floor in front of him cross-legged, you extend your arms, offering him a hug that you’re sure he needs. He clambers into your lap in a flurry of tears, burying his face into your shoulder.

Maybe a pale pink hoodie wasn’t your brightest choice of clothes all things considered, but that’s the least of your concerns.

Quietly hushing the little boy, you hug him tightly and rub his back. His entire body shakes violently in your arms as he’s wracked with sobs, gasping for air between each one.

“Shh, it’s okay, honey.” Your voice is quiet and gentle, gradually soothing his sobs into quiet cries and gasps. Even as he begins to calm down in your arms, he doesn’t move, clinging to you like a lifeline.

Sukuna hasn’t moved either, frozen in place as he watches the way you effortlessly calm his brother down. He can only blink as he watches you, his mind moving too groggily, too slowly, to properly process just how well you understand Yuji. But really, it’s not just Yuji, is it? It’s Choso too, and even Sukuna himself.

Deep in thought, the tattooed man scowls to himself, as yet again he finds himself considering Uraume’s words. At least before the fight, you liked him, right? Do you still, now? Does this prove that? Does last night prove that?

His heart beats in his throat at the thought and he has to swallow to choke down the feeling, because it reminds him of a much bigger question he’s been avoiding.

Why is he chasing the answer like a damn bloodhound? Does he want you to like him?

His eyes trail the length of your back as he watches the way Yuji clings to you, his fingers buried in the fabric of your pink hoodie. Your shoulder is already stained in snot and tears, but he knows you don’t mind. You’re so painfully accommodating of his family that self-reproach constricts Sukuna’s chest and he finds himself unable to move. Unable to do anything but watch.

Time and time again, you’ve told him to reach out, that he should ask for help, even as recently as a few hours ago, and yet seeing you sitting on the floor before him doing something that he should be able to do himself sends guilt straight through his heart. With the full force of a fist, it hits his chest and knocks the breath straight from his lungs.

He knows he’s only one person, that they aren’t his kids and this whole situation has just been a case of winging it from the beginning, but this is the one thing he should be able to do as a brother.

Basking in his shame and frustration, he fixes you with a scowl that isn’t made for you. 

Why are you so selfless?

Why is he so selfish?

Why is he taking up all of your time when he has no right to ask for it?

Gritting his teeth, he scratches at his stubble-dotted jaw, finding the wherewithal to sit at your side on the floor.

You cast him a glance, surprise flickering in your eyes as he takes a seat beside you. His expression is more familiar, sitting somewhere on the spectrum of grumpiness, though you’re not sure where his sudden attitude came from. In this particular moment, that’s the least of your concerns.

Yuji shuffles back slowly to look at you with glossy eyes and puffy cheeks. “I- I-” He stammers between sniffles, wiping his tears on his sleeve. “I wanna see-” he hiccups, “- my brother,” though between all the tears and his sniffles, it comes out more like ‘bwother’. “Is he-” he sniffles, “is he mad at me?”

“No, sweetie,” you soothe, “I don’t think he’s mad.” You rub his back, leaning back to get a better look at him. His chest is heaving as he struggles to catch his breath, his eyes flickering every which way across your face as he tries to make sense of everything. Unfortunately he’s far too young and naive to figure out the bigger picture, which only makes everything more difficult. “I think your brother’s sad, Yu, just like you.”

He wipes his face again, a string of… saliva (?) sticking to his sleeve as he pulls back. “Sad? Why?”

You take a deep breath as you search for an answer that a five-year-old could understand. “Do you remember the person who came by to talk with Kuna yesterday?”

Yuji nods, hiccupping.

“Well, Choso didn’t like something they said.”

“Why not?”

You suppose you should have seen that coming. Children are always looking for answers where there are none.

“I don’t know yet, sweetheart. I’m gonna see if we can talk to him, okay?”

“Okayyy,” Yuji whines, rubbing his eyes.

“Why don’t you go sit with Kuna?”

Yuji stares at you for a moment as he contemplates your words before nodding, crawling off your lap in a bundle of the blanket he’s wrapped in. He grabs his plush tiger before slowly approaching his older brother.

Sukuna may not be able to provide the words his brother needs to hear, but he does still open his arms and let his brother cuddle into his chest. You shoot Sukuna a reassuring smile before pushing to your feet to knock on the door to the kids’ room. There’s no way Choso isn’t awake given Yuji’s wailing, and you’d wager a bet that he even heard everything you said just now.

Still, there’s no reply to your knock.

Turning back to Sukuna, you can see that Yuji is on the verge of tears once more and shoot him a reassuring smile before tilting your head to Sukuna. “Did Choso eat last night?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Dunno. I shoved some shit under the door but I didn’t hear him move.”

“Why don’t we make some breakfast and see if we can get him to come out for food and a talk? He’s gotta be hungry.”

Sukuna mulls over the option before nodding. “Y’want pancakes, Yu?”

“Yeah,” the boy sniffles, wiping his tears. “With lots ‘nd lots of syrup.”

Sukuna lets out something between a hum and a scoff, effortlessly setting his little brother on his feet and pushing up to his full height. “C’mon,” he urges, leading the way into the kitchen. You cast one last glance at Choso’s locked door before following Sukuna.

The brutish man begins gathering ingredients, setting them on the counter beside a large mixing bowl while Yuji grips the counter, just barely tall enough to see what Sukuna’s doing.

“Let’s get your hands washed,” you encourage Yuji, turning on the tap and lifting the little boy up so that he can reach the kitchen sink. Making sure he uses soap, you place him back down on the floor. He wipes his hands on his very messy hoodie, effectively negating anything the handwashing had done in the first place, but it’s not like you can get into his room to get him changed into something clean.

Sighing, you lead him to the table and lift him onto a chair. A bead lizard sits on the table in front of him, and he entertains himself with it for the time being.

Returning to Sukuna as he washes his hands, you follow suit, turning towards him to take the hand cloth from him.

“You’ve got a little-” you point at his shoulder, covered in stains from Yuji’s sobs.

Glancing down at his shirt, Sukuna grunts with a frown before evaluating your outfit. “We match,” he comments dryly, rolling his shoulder to emphasize the drying patches on your shoulders. “You need a new shirt?”

“Um-” you glance over at Yuji, before shaking your head. “No, I have a feeling these aren’t the last tears that’ll be on my hoodie,” you surmise with a tight-lipped smile, trying to keep light of a situation that clearly has the whole family worn to the bone, with nothing left to give.

Sukuna hums again, about to ask you to cut some bananas for the pancakes when Yuji turns towards you, weakly calling your name.

Turning your gaze to the little boy, you scoot a chair up next to him and give him your full attention. “What’s up, Yu?”

He sniffles, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Um- I made-” he pauses, holding the lizard he’d been playing with earlier up to you. “Made this for-” he stammers again, hiccupping, “-for you.”

Holding your hand out, you delicately take the bead lizard from him. One of its legs has four toes rather than three, and its tail is slightly lopsided, but it’s positively too cute.

“Um-” Yuji continues, his eyes dropping to his lap. “-but then you were-” as if the memory alone shakes him to his very core, his lower lip wobbles, parting with a sob. “-you were goooone,” he cries again, clinging to your side. It takes all of five seconds before he crawls off of his chair into your lap.

“Shhhh,” you soothe, smoothing his hair back off his forehead and rubbing his back. “I know honey, I’m sorry,” your throat is tight as he wails in your arms. “I’ve been busy with work and school, but I never stopped thinking about you, Cho, and Sukuna, you know that?” You tell him, leaning back in an effort to see his face. With puffy cheeks, he swallows a sob as he looks up at you. Holding your wrist out, you show him your bracelets, letting him fiddle with them. “See? I always had you with me.”

Sukuna’s spoon comes to a halt in the mixing bowl as he watches your interactions with Yuji. He damn-near drops the utensil too, fumbling with it until he can set it down. His heart doesn’t just flip or flutter as usual, no, it hammers in his chest when you utter something so sweet that it’s sure to cause him a cavity.

He lifts a hand up to his chest, the feeling of his heart beating erratically resounding through the tips of his fingers. His lips part as he stares down at the bowl in front of him, blinking at the half-mixed batter.

“‘M always with you,” Yuji repeats the sentiment in agreement with you between broken gasps and sobs, reaching up to fiddle with your friendship bracelets.

Sukuna can only watch the interaction from the corner of his eye as he struggles to run from something that he fears has been creeping up on him for a long time. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind sits a realization that he’s never once bothered with because it simply couldn’t be true. Now, though… His crimson eyes flicker towards you. Your features are soft as you smile for his little brother, giggling as the child gently tugs at the twine around your wrist.

A month. A full goddamn month you kept those on. You were resigned to never seeing Sukuna again and still, you kept them on. You never deleted his number. You kept him in your thoughts when your company had an open position. He knows you needed the help for your own gain, but he’s not foolish enough to think there’s no coincidence in the fact that you called him, let alone even thought about him.

He’d spent so long running that he’d never stopped to consider how he felt about all that.

His brow furrows as he turns his attention back to the batter, glowering as if it’s personally offended his whole bloodline. He doesn’t have the fucking time for this.

In an attempt to keep up his pace and continue running from his thoughts, he unsteadily grabs the spoon again and mixes the batter with a fervor that catches your attention as you cast him a questioning glance. He’s too busy scowling at the batter to notice, but you figure he’s simply stressed.

“Your big brother knows how to reach me if you kids ever need me, okay?”

You jolt at the sound of metal clattering behind you. Twisting in your seat, you catch a glance of Sukuna muttering curses to himself as he picks the spoon back up, his brow bunching up more intensely by the moment.

You make a mental note to ask him what’s up later, turning your attention back to the little boy on your lap as he slowly turns the twine tied around your wrist. His breathing begins to settle again, satisfied with your explanation as he explains the reasoning behind his color choices with the bead lizard. You listen intently, because if you don’t, his words sound more like hoarse mumbles, difficult to make out.

Yuji explains in great detail that he designed the lizard for you out of pink and purple beads, because those are the prettiest colors, just like you. You’re grateful in that moment that Yuji is too busy looking down at his creation and Sukuna is behind you, because tears finally do prick at the corners of your eyes. Yuji is positively precious and you can’t deny the fact that you adore him as though he’s your own family.

Maybe that makes things messy given your shaky connection to Sukuna, but you can be there if the kids need you, at the very least.

“Ready in two,” Sukuna mumbles behind you, barely audible.

“I’m gonna go talk to Choso, okay sweetie?” You gently let Yuji know as you set him back in his own chair. He nods, sniffling as he watches you head back towards his room.

Knocking on the door again, you wait to see if you get an answer, but there’s nothing. As far as you can tell, Choso isn’t even in the room.

“Cho?” You call gently, letting him know it’s you. “Please come have some breakfast. Kuna made you some pancakes.”

It’s deathly silent behind the door and you’re beginning to wonder if he’s somehow managed to run away, but that doesn’t seem feasible in an apartment. Not to mention that given what Choso’s upset about, you can’t imagine him leaving.

Trying again, you keep your tone gentle, but loud enough that you’re sure he can hear. “I’ve missed you, Choso. I’d love to see you,” you offer, but there’s not a sound to be heard. Frowning, you begin to wonder if picking the lock might be the only option. “Cho sweetheart, I’m worried about you. Remember when we talked about using words when you’re upset?”

From beneath the door, you just barely catch a hint of a shadow. Relief floods through you as you realize he’s there and listening to you.

Knowing that he can, in fact, hear you, you lower your voice to try to have a conversation more with him than the whole apartment. “It’s okay to need space, Cho, but it’s important to ask for it,” you explain. It’s moments like this that you can tell he’s learned a couple of bad habits from Sukuna. “Pushing everyone away when you’re upset isn’t good for you.”

The shadow beneath the door moves again.

“Do you want a hug, sweetheart?”

Click.

The door creaks open just enough to make out Choso’s face peeking through the gap. The room behind him is dark, the curtains drawn. He must have been laying in bed all night and morning.

You smile softly, pushing gently on the door to see if he’ll let you in. He hesitates for a moment before relenting, but the moment the gap is wide enough for Choso to slip through, he gingerly pads across the floor and hugs you.

Behind you, Sukuna and Yuji exchange a few words in the kitchen, followed by the sound of Sukuna’s footsteps behind you, but they stop a short distance away.

“I’m sorry,” Choso murmurs, silent tears trailing down his face as he hides his face in your hoodie.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothe, holding him tightly. “I’ve got you.”

You don’t dare pull back first as he quietly shakes in your arms. He clearly needed this, but didn’t know how to seek comfort from Sukuna, and Yuji simply doesn’t understand.

Satisfied that Choso’s at least okay, Sukuna backs away to serve pancakes to Yuji, giving Choso whatever space he needs. Even if he’s guilty for entrusting this to you, he doesn’t have the luxury of being picky when it comes to his brothers’ well-being.

You can hear the clinking of forks and knives and occasional muttered conversation in the kitchen as the other two brothers eat breakfast. It takes a couple of minutes, but Choso’s breathing gradually evens out. With a final deep breath, he takes a small step back, his vision trained on the ground.

Smiling gently, you move his long hair from his face to see him better. He coughs into his elbow quietly, his voice hoarse as he speaks for the first time since last night, or perhaps even longer knowing the withdrawn child. “I thought you and Kuna weren’t friends anymore,” he murmurs, his voice cracking midway through his sentence as he wipes his tears.

“Why not?” You query, curious what Sukuna told him. Choso is far too smart for his own good if Sukuna didn’t say anything. Lying to the little boy about what happened isn’t your first choice, but you will if it helps his mental health.

He shrugs, though there’s clearly something on his mind.

“Everything’s okay,” you assure him, smiling. “What would make you feel better? Do you want breakfast, or do you wanna talk?”

“Can we-” he pauses, clearing his throat, “- can we talk?”

“Of course,” you assure him, turning to lead the way to the kitchen to talk with his brothers, but he stops you with a tug on your sleeve.

“Just you?”

Tilting your head sympathetically to his situation with his little brother and his horribly emotionally constipated older brother, you nod. He leads you back into his room, leaving the door open just a crack. You can hardly make out the floor with how dark the room is, hissing as you step on a toy dinosaur. It would be a triceratops you stepped on, wouldn’t it?

Shaking the horned dinosaur from your poor foot, you make your way to the window and crack it open. It’s still fairly early but dawn offers enough light that at least you aren’t stepping on the stegosaurus next, or the squished fruit snacks that Sukuna must have slid under the door.

Choso squints slightly as he sits on the edge of his bed. Taking a seat beside him, you’re able to finally get a good look at him. He’s still in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, so you can only assume he laid in bed all night and couldn’t be bothered to change into pajamas. His hair is unkempt and oily, and his face speaks nothing more than utter defeat.

Though it doesn’t show much in Yuji’s personality (yet), it’s clear that Choso’s picked up a lot of Sukuna’s traits over the years. Unfortunately it seems that includes his tendency to shut others out and attempt to deal with everything on his own, which is just about the worst lesson he could have picked up from the eldest brother.

Choso kicks his foot out, his brow furrowed as he organizes his thoughts before speaking.

“Do you think Kuna can win?” He whispers hoarsely.

You can’t afford to hesitate as you reply. “Of course. He’s putting a lot of work into getting a good lawyer and putting together evidence.”

Choso nods, blinking down at his mismatched socks as he wiggles his toes in front of him. “I don’t get it,” he murmurs.

“Don’t get what?”

“Why she wants us.”

That’s a question you’re vastly unprepared for, and horribly devastated by. A child should never need to question their parent’s love. Is the right answer to comfort him and offer a reason she might want him, or to vilify her further when that’s clearly what Choso’s already thinking? Is there a right answer at all?

“I don’t have an answer for that, Choso,” you reply with painful honesty.

Choso’s brow furrows, scowling at the triceratops that nearly took you out. No wonder the poor kid locked himself away if his thoughts are plagued with wondering whether his mother even loves him.

And if she does love him, you’re sure he hopes she’ll let him go. No child deserves to handle this sort of pressure, or these sorts of thoughts. In the short time you’ve known Sukuna and subsequently his brothers, they’ve all been through a lifetime of hardship, and you can only imagine the things that would do to a twelve-year-old. He’s been forced to mature too quickly, and it’s apparent in the way that he struggles with the weight of that maturity that he doesn’t really know how to handle it.

Sukuna’s a good parental figure, at least where it matters, but he can’t teach either of his brothers how to handle something of this caliber when he can’t even handle it himself. He may have had a few extra years to grow accustomed to life, but he was still just a kid when he lost his dad. How was he meant to learn this lesson himself when no one was there to teach him either?

Choso’s eyes flit around the room in thought, but he doesn’t seem to know where to go with his thoughts or how to organize them.

“Do you want to talk about her?” You set the cards on the table, offering him the opportunity. You don’t want to push him into anything, but you hope he’ll heed your words about talking through his issues regardless. It seems to comfort him more than a hug, from what you’ve gathered.

The little boy is silent for a moment, rubbing one of his eyes with his knuckles. “Um- I don’t know what to talk about.”

“Anything,” you offer him a smile. “This is about you, Cho. I just want to help get your mind off of things.”

In the bleak darkness of the room as light very slowly begins to peek through the blinds, it becomes glaringly obvious just how much of a weight this little boy carries. It’s as though he thinks he has his own duty to uphold, one that he silently and without protest holds tight to his chest.

“I don’t remember her very much,” he croaks, clearing his throat. He kicks his feet a couple of times as he contemplates his words. “I remember playing board games with her and Dad.”

“What board games?” You query, keeping the conversation going.

Choso hums in thought. “Monopoly and Life,” he murmurs.

“Life is fun.” No comment on Monopoly.

Shrugging absently, Choso falls back into a steady silence. It’s hard to tell if he wants to stay on this subject at all given his curt replies, but between the raspy timbre of his voice and the fact that he seems to have repressed the memory of her, you can’t blame him.

“I- I really don’t remember her,” he whispers, shaking his head. He wasn’t that young when she left as far as you’d gathered that he shouldn’t be able to remember her at all, but the thought of him locking the memory away tightly feels painfully realistic. Maybe he’d even thrown away the key, given how distraught he is over the lawsuit. “She went on a business trip before Dad got sick, and- um- she never came back. Dad said she was making lots of money so we could be happy.”

Sukuna had never told you exactly what happened, just that she was gone the moment things got tough. She may have never been fond of Sukuna, but from what you can piece together, you can’t see why she wouldn’t like her own children. Still, you find yourself asking the same question as Choso previously had.

It can’t possibly be money that she wants the kids for. Sukuna’s made it pretty clear that the government aid doesn’t help enough to offset the cost of caring for kids, so it has to be out of love, right? Pettiness towards Sukuna maybe, but real love to be willing to take the kids back.

She sure has a funny way of showing her love, but you can’t possibly begin to imagine what else could bring this on.

Maybe she only ran overseas out of fear of losing her husband? It’s cowardly, but it’s the only explanation you can find in a situation where there’s no sense to be found.

Yet… didn’t Choso say she left before Jin got sick?

It doesn’t alleviate any of your doubts surrounding her motives.

“Did you talk to her on the phone?”

“Um- usually every week. When Dad did.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Really, what more can you say? There’s nothing easy about this situation, especially in the eyes of a child that’s been able to do nothing but sit back and watch as his life is decided for him.

When was the last time Choso really got to be a kid? Christmas?

Your heart drops at the mere thought.

“I miss Dad,” Choso mousily whispers, his shoulders dropping as a silent tear falls from his cheek, down the tip of his nose. He wipes another tear on his sleeve and yawns. You wonder if he slept at all last night in spite of being locked in his room. “Dad always knew what to do.”

That’s twice now that you’ve heard that same phrase from the trio of brothers. Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach at the hole his departure left in their family.

“Dads are like that. They’re good with advice,” you agree, doing your best to keep yourself neutral, letting Choso come to you with the details he wants to share. The more he can get his thoughts in order on his own, the better off you think he’ll be.

“He always made soup whenever we felt bad.”

With a lopsided smile, you tilt your head to look at the little boy. “Is that where you got your cooking skills from?”

To your surprise, something glimmers in Choso’s eyes. A hint of life. A hint of more than the dull fog he’s been cocooned in. He shakes his head with a hummed ‘mh mh’. “It was just in a can.”

“There’s nothing better than a plain can of soup when you’re sick.”

Choso nods. “Yeah. Or when you just feel sad.”

“Huh, I guess soup is a cure-all,” you hum in an attempt at keeping the air lighthearted. Choso’s opening up bit by bit and the last thing you want is to bog down the flow of conversation.

Choso begins kicking his feet consistently, bracing his hands on the edge of the bed. “Kuna makes good soup, too.”

“From a can?” You query.

Choso shakes his head.

“From scratch?” Your brows raise. It’s not that Sukuna’s a bad chef by any means, he’s actually got the craft down. In fact, your reaction doesn’t come from surprise at all. Sukuna’s a great chef, and if he had the money for the ingredients and the time to cook, you don’t doubt that he would go the extra mile to take care of his brothers. He already does if he can.

Your reaction is purely from the realization that Choso’s love of cooking likely doesn’t come from Jin. It comes from Sukuna.

“Um- I think so. I mostly just put things in the pot.”

You find yourself smiling at the thought. Choso loves cooking because it’s how he bonds with his older brother. Just like he loves Pokemon because it’s how he bonds with his younger brother.

“Kuna’s a good chef, isn’t he?” You encourage him, willing a reaction. To your delight, he blinks a few times and nods.

“The best,” he whispers.

Your eyes flicker up at the sight of a shadow under the door. Wood creaks beneath heavy footsteps that slowly retreat, the shadow dissipating. 

“Well you know, your chef brother made you some pancakes,” you tell him softly, moving a hand to rub his back encouragingly. “They’ll be cold if you don’t eat soon.”

Choso looks up at you now, a series of emotions flooding his worn out eyes. Sadness, uncertainty, confusion, and fear all swirl within deep brown irises. It’s clear he’s still braving the mess that is his mind, but he’s wading within the emotions rather than pushing them down until there’s nothing left to feel but emptiness. You’d much prefer this to the blank stares you’ve been getting so often.

He finally nods, finding it in himself to hop off of his bed to his feet as he heads for the kitchen.

“Can you hit the light?” You ask before daring to move a muscle. There may be more light than before, but that stray stegosaurus that you know is in here somewhere is too daunting to ignore. With the light on, you avoid stepping on any horned beasts or stray lego and follow after him to the kitchen.

Yuji and Sukuna still look like the better part of a disaster, obvious tear trails covering Yuji’s face, while Sukuna leans against the kitchen counter cutting a banana so slowly you’d almost think he forgot what he was doing. Because he has, in fact, forgotten.

The sound of footsteps pulls the man from his trance as he turns to see Choso. Relief flickers through his eyes as he shoots you a look that says thank you.

As Sukuna finishes up what he’s doing, Yuji cries out for Choso, hopping down from his chair to barrel into Choso at full force. Nearly toppling over, the middle brother embraces Yuji with a hint of a smile. It’s heartwarming, despite the tense air that continues to hang over the family.

Yuji’s words tumble out of his mouth in a flurry as he hugs the brunette, tears trailing down his face again. Choso may be the one who hasn’t used his voice for the better part of two months, but Yuji’s words are somehow more hoarse. “I missed- y-you, Cho, please-” he sobs, catching his breath in a flurry of gasps. “- Don’t leave me,” he gasps.

Your own expression falters as you feel uncertainty tug at your own heart strings. There’s a lot to unpack within Yuji’s words as well, and while you know most of the situation they’re in goes over his head, he’s a smart kid, too. You can’t help but wonder if he’s handling everything worse than he lets on.

“‘M sorry, Yu,” Choso mumbles between Yuji’s pleads, toppling down onto the floor as his little brother squeezes him tighter.

Sukuna remains silent as he sets down three more plates at the small dining table, cutting through the quiet only to inform the three of you, though mostly you and Choso, of breakfast. “Come eat,” he mumbles just loud enough to be heard over Yuji’s cries.

Neither of the boys are paying Sukuna any mind as Yuji hugs his older brother.

You take a step towards Sukuna as he opens his mouth, likely to tell them again that breakfast is ready. “Give them a moment,” you whisper softly. You lean in close enough to keep those words between the adults, but your close presence is gone before he has the chance to appreciate it.

And Sukuna, he’s just not sure what he’s even meant to make of that thought. When has he ever needed to stop to appreciate you being close to him?

He supposes since he tore into you over something that seems so trivial now.

He swallows hard as he turns his attention to his little brothers. You kneel beside them, gently rubbing Yuji’s back as you talk to him with so much care that Sukuna’s chest tightens.

“Your brother just needed some time to be alone, right Choso?”

The little boy nods.

“In the future if you need space, you’ll talk to your brothers, right?”

“Right,” Choso hoarsely agrees.

Sukuna scratches at the back of his neck. His brother’s voice sounds foreign to him in a way that he can’t quite identify. The twelve-year-old’s never been all that chatty, and he’s been quieter than normal since Sukuna had explained the lawsuit to them, but this is likely the longest single period of time he’s gone without so much as moving. He almost sounds sick. He almost looks sick.

Is Sukuna that bad of a guardian?

He averts his gaze to the large window by the table, pushing his worries down into the plague of other doubts he harbors. He doesn’t have the luxury of worrying about that, not when his opposition is a mother who didn’t even answer a call coming from her deceased husband’s phone.

The kids deserved better, but Sukuna has to remind himself that you’re right. You’ve told him time and time again and he has to start listening to you. His brothers want to stay with him. They love him.

And he loves them, too.

His gaze flickers to you as you smile at the boys. Sympathy, care, and something akin to sadness all swirl within your eyes as you take a seat at the table. Sukuna takes a seat beside you, leaning on his elbow.

As the boys both make their way to their respective seats and begin cutting into their pancakes (or in Yuji’s case, picking up a whole pancake on his fork and taking a bite), Sukuna can only watch in relief. He can’t remember the last time Choso and Yuji both seemed okay, despite the lines of dried tears running down their faces. Letting out a breath, he shuts his eyes as the air around him seems to lighten and he feels like he can breathe again.

You watch from your peripherals as Sukuna relaxes and finds it in himself to eat. His pancakes are more dense than yours and likely filled with protein, probably to make up for the fact that you rarely see him eating lunch.

Breakfast is silent, but words don’t need to fill the space for the meal to surround you all with an unspoken warmth.

Yuji finishes first between the boys, kicking his feet (im)patiently as he waits for Choso to finish.

“Will you play with me, Cho?” He asks, the moment the middle brother’s fork hits the plate.

Gingerly nodding, the two boys begin to hop down from their seats.

“Go change your shirt first, Yu.”

He turns to face Sukuna. “Why? This one’s clean.”

Sukuna’s lip curls in disgust. “No, it’s not. Go change.” He casts a glance at Choso, who’s still in yesterday’s clothes as well. “You too, Cho.”

Choso glances down at his clothes and nods, following slowly after Yuji to their room.

With an exasperated huff, Sukuna runs a hand over his face, shoving his plate forward on the table. There’s too many things on his mind and you’re at the center of them all. Hell, even the familial shit that you shouldn’t be a part of, he somehow ties back to you.

About to offer you a shirt again, he opens his mouth, but you voice your thoughts first.

“I should head out. Shoko and I are studying today and I need to get a couple of things together and printed,” you explain, picking up your plate and getting to your feet. “And change my hoodie,” you mumble as an afterthought, one step ahead of Sukuna.

As you set the plate in the sink with a gentle clank, Sukuna taps his fingers on the table with a grimace. A part of him wonders if you’re lying, though he has no right to think you might be. The only reason he even finds himself doubting your words is because he wants you to stay, which he realizes isn’t fair given your tense relationship.

Casting aside his doubts, he slides his chair out and gets to his feet. He trails after you, standing a short distance away as you throw your coat on and stand at the door.

If ever there was a time that the scar in your friendship was visible, this is it. There’s an ugly rift that stands between you, and for all the clawing and biting that Sukuna’s tried to tear through it, you patch it back up each and every time.

It’s not fair.

He wants to believe that, anyway. Every fiber of his being wants to believe that sentiment.

But it is. And he needs to live with that. If this is all you ever are to him, a distant kindness that exists in a vacuum of space that lives between you, then he supposes he can deal with that. He sucks in a sharp breath, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Silence stretches between you after pulling on your boots. Sukuna’s scowl is aimed at the floor, unable to meet your gaze.

“The court date is next week, right?” You finally break the silence.

“Yeah. Thursday.”

“Do you have any more meetings before that? Will the kids be okay?”

Sukuna inhales. Long, and drawn out. “Yeah. Uh- the lawyers exchanged documents n’ shit last week n’ ordered a house study. It’s Tuesday.” He pauses, mulling over the process. “Then the court date.” Pulling a hand from his pocket, he scratches the back of his head, unable to meet your gaze. Choso won’t be fine, he knows that much, but he can’t bear the thought of taking up your time anymore. “Yeah, they’ll be fine,” he lies.

His response seems off given his lacking confidence and frustrated scowl, but he’s always been tough to read, so you give him the benefit of the doubt, but there’s still one thing you made a mental note of earlier. “What about you?”

Something unrecognizable flickers within those cherry irises before he nods. “Yeah. I’m alright.”

You smile, and for a moment he swears the world falls away under his feet, leaving just you and him. “Good. I’ll catch you later, then. Text me if that changes, okay?” With a pointed look, you wait for his nod before you turn to head out.

Before you can shut the door fully, Sukuna grabs it, barely stopping you in time. “Hey, uh-” he second-guesses himself before finding his resolve. “Will you come to the court? I can have someone there… for support.”

Your expression softens from surprise to sympathy as you nod. The idea of Sukuna being alone, without even the support of his brothers, doesn’t sit well with you. “Of course.”

Relief clouds his senses. “I’ll send you the details,” he gruffs out. You nod, attempting to shut the door again, but his hold on it is steady. “Thanks.”

You can’t help but smile. You’d have to be a fool not to see the effort he’s putting into fixing his mistakes. There’s obvious changes in the way he’s thinking through his words and reactions before he says or does anything, and he’s making an effort to let you in.

It warms your heart, and it makes it every bit more difficult to pull away each time as you feel your resolve beginning to wear away. Though you do need to study.

“You’re welcome, Kuna.”

His lip quirks into the barest hint of a smile the moment the nickname slips effortlessly past your lips. He nods, relenting and finally letting you shut the door. The sound of the lock flipping behind you is the last noise you hear from the apartment as you make your way to the library to get some printing done for your study session.

–

“Wait up!” Shoko calls out as she falls into step with you on campus the following Tuesday, catching you off-guard. “You headed to work?”

“Yep! Don’t you have class right now?” You query as she follows you to your car.

“Prof’s sick,” she shrugs. “My next lecture’s in, like, four hours.”

“That’s brutal,” you grimace. “Are you gonna study more?”

She nods. “Toji asked for help in his Physical Sciences class, so I’m meeting up with him in a few.” Glancing at her phone, she shoves it back in her pocket after noting the time. “Anyway, did you hear from Sukuna after all that shit over the weekend?”

You nod. “Yeah, a little bit. He’s been updating me on his brothers.”

Shoko hums along, waiting for you to continue as she senses you’re withholding something.

“He asks a lot about my day and how I’m doing.”

Her brow raises. “You know, when you mentioned he seemed like he was actually trying to fix things a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t think it’d last.”

“Me either,” you admit, kicking at gravel as you approach your car. “I honestly thought I was just being stupid by letting him back in even a little bit,” you chuckle in embarrassment, mostly to yourself. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“I just can’t believe he’s proving me wrong,” she shrugs. “Didn’t I tell you people like him don’t change?”

You nod. “You and Kento both did at girls’ night.”

“Okay, you gotta admit it was good advice at the time.”

Reaching your car, you open the door and toss your bag in before turning back to her. “At the time, it made me feel a lot better,” you agree with a chuckle.

“Not so much anymore, huh?” She laughs along with you.

“Not so much,” you click your tongue, fiddling with your keys.

“Some fucking guy, that Sukuna.”

Your brows raise and tilt your head in some form of agreement, your thoughts preoccupied with the pending lawsuit. After a brief silence, Shoko pipes up again.

“You still like him?”

You find her gaze, your brow furrowing in thought. “I do, it’s just…” You trail off, searching for words to describe the strange limbo you’ve found yourself in. “I guess it just feels like I’m kinda getting to know him again?” You try to explain with a small tilt of your head. “Does that make sense?”

“Like, because you didn’t see him for a month, or because he’s acting differently?” She queries.

Poking your tongue into the side of your mouth, you narrow your eyes in thought. “Both? I guess I’m still getting used to him making the effort to be a good friend.” Your keys jingle between your fingers. “Okay, wait. Do you remember when I told you that Sukuna’s kind of a different person when he’s actually being himself?”

“Mhm.”

“Sometimes I see that side of him for a moment here and there, but… sometimes I’m not quite sure who I’m talking to.” You pause, contemplating exactly what you mean by that. “He’s definitely putting in effort and being nice, but sometimes I don’t recognize him at all.”

“Isn’t that mostly a good thing?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, dragging your boot through the gravel and kicking up dust as a small remainder of the last snowfall flicks onto Shoko’s shin. She shoots you an unimpressed look as you lean down to brush her pants off while you continue. “It’s just weird. I guess it’s just that, like-” you pause as you stand back up and brush your hands off. “- Sometimes things are back to normal and everything is great, but sometimes…” you shake your head, shrugging. “I’m not even sure if he knows who he is.”

“Do you think the stress is getting to him?” Shoko clarifies.

“That could be it,” you agree as she makes sense of your rambles.

“Is he that much different?”

“I mean, the Sukuna I know is still there,” you chuckle. “He’s still quiet and kind of a dick sometimes,” you explain, recalling how quiet and standoffish he’s been in the lunchroom to your co-workers since starting at the publishing house. “I think he’s actually thinking about what he’s saying more, though. Like he’s trying to be better.”

The thought brings you back to Saturday night when he’d snapped at you, only to reel himself back in. He’s still the same man, he’s still sharp and hardened, and he’s definitely still got walls up that he’s not letting down anytime soon, but it’s like he’s more aware of that fact now.

You chew on your bottom lip briefly, recalling the way he’d been unusually calm upon your arrival on Sunday morning when you went to help the kids. “But sometimes it seems like he’s just a different person. He’s not angry or anything either. He’s just not there at all.”

“Well, shit.” It’s the best Shoko can offer. It does sound like stress. Like he’s being beaten down and flattened into something he’s not.

You nod, casting a glance at your phone. “I gotta go, but text me? I’ve got some time at work today.”

“Sounds good. I’ll text you when I meet up with Toji.”

“Catch you later,” you grin cheerily as you turn towards your car.

After your conversation with Shoko, you barely have enough time to rush home, change, and make the bus in time to get to the office.

You’re at your desk seconds before your shift starts, panting after rushing up the stairs.

Amused, Yuki’s brow raises from where she sits at her desk opposite you. “Running a bit late?”

“Yeah, I lost track of time.” Taking a moment to catch your breath, you lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling.

“You know no one cares if you’re a bit late, right?” She chuckles.

“I know,” you sigh, “but I want to make a good impression, maybe keep my position.”

Yuki’s eyes shine as she smiles at the thought, but she’s quickly distracted by movement behind you. Smirking, she motions past you with her pen when you finally lift your head.

Staring at the back of your head is a familiar pair of crimson irises, his expression unreadable and aloof. The muscular man’s hair is disheveled, hardly pushed back with strands falling over his forehead and into his line of sight as though he hadn’t had time to use hair gel. His shirt is also particularly wrinkled today, overall looking like he’s had a morning.

He extends his arm towards you, a familiar cup held within his hand. His hand lingers for a moment as your fingers brush when you pull the cup from him, holding its warmth between your hands.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you grin.

He hums, a hint of a smile playing on the corners of his lips although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Thank you, Sukuna.” You take a sip, smiling as warmth floods you, seeping into your very bones. “It’s perfect.”

“Good. You got a moment?” He asks, eyes flickering to Yuki in a silent question oh whether he can borrow you. Yuki just shrugs, careless as ever.

“Yeah, let me just log in.” You move quickly to get settled before grabbing your drink and following after Sukuna. He leads the way to his office, shutting the door behind him and leaning against his desk.

Somehow the fact that he’s not as put-together as usual with hair askew and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, you find your thoughts spiraling more than they usually do.

Or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve come to the realization that Sukuna’s not just trying to be better for you, or for his brothers, but he’s trying to be a better version of himself in general, and that only endears you to him more.

He takes a sip of his own drink, grabbing it from his desk, only to hold it out and stare at the label with a wrinkled nose.

“Did they get your order wrong?” You tilt your head questioningly.

Sukuna squints at the label, holding it a bit further back. “It has a caramel shot in it,” he mutters in reply, clearly bothered.

“Do you… need to get your eyes checked?” You raise a brow questioningly.

“Probably,” he grumbles.

“You should do that. Our benefits cover it.”

“We have benefits?”

You purse your lips. “Yeah…? Sukuna, did you read the contract at all? Even I get them and I’m an intern.”

Shrugging, he smirks. “I skimmed it.”

That’s the Sukuna you recognize. Stubborn, a little sly, but full of life in spite of his quiet demeanor.

Rolling your eyes, you giggle to yourself. “Go get your eyes checked.”

His smirk remains in place as he hums, quietly watching you laugh as though he’s trying to commit the scene to memory.

You quiet down, leaning back against the door to his office. “Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Mm,” he hums in acknowledgement, his smirk dissipating as he grows more serious. “Can you be at the courthouse on twelfth street at ten on Thursday?”

“Oh,” a lump forms in your throat at the realization that the court date is growing painfully real now. “Yeah, of course.”

Sukuna lets out a breath, nodding. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the material of his shirt pulled taut.

And this is the shirt that actually fits him correctly.

Not fair.

“Thanks, princess.” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, the sharp edges of his features seeming somewhat dulled and almost sweet as he gazes down at you.

You can’t help the smile that graces your lips as you nod.

The silence that follows allows you to get a good look at Sukuna. Although he seems to be more at ease at the publishing house and the hours he’s working between this and the occasional shift at the auto shop aren’t nearly as grueling as they used to be, life continues to take its toll on him. His eyes lack their sharp and cunning glimmer, and every movement he makes borders on languid.

“How are you holding up?”

He knows what you’re really asking. You may as well say ‘what’s wrong?’. It’s a fair question, but it’s one he hates to answer because even now his shoulders are tense and his chest aches. He’s had a headache since dawn rolled around on Monday morning.

“I’m fine,” he lies, brushing the question off as he turns back to his desk.

Sukuna’s not easy to read by any means, and anyone else probably would have believed him, but you see right through him. He doesn’t give you the chance to question him as he leans over his desk. “My lawyer doesn’t think we’ll be there long on Thursday.”

“Why not?” Your brow furrows. “Shouldn’t it be long?”

He grinds his teeth in frustration as he replies. “I don’t really get it, shit’s fucked. I guess this isn’t even the real trial, this is some sort of conference bullshit,” he explains. “It's supposed be for us to come to an agreement, but Kaori’s lawyer laid out the shit they’re asking for and it’s not fucking happening.”

“What does she want?”

“Sole custody with no visitation.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback. “You wouldn’t even be able to see them?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, his knuckles going white as he drags his fingers across his desk until they’re directly under him, crinkling a blank piece of paper beneath him. “She’s never liked me and she made sure I knew, even as a kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” you offer sympathetically. Much like your talk with Choso the other day, you’re not sure what more to offer.

He flashes you a glance of acknowledgement, grunting. “It’s whatever. Point is, it’ll be the first time I’ve seen her in years and her lawyer’s gonna push for a full trial.” He can only shake his head in exasperation. “Her evidence is just bullshit from my school records n’ whatever.”

She’s clearly using whatever force is necessary to take the kids out from under Sukuna’s nose, leaving a slimy feeling in the pit of your stomach. What could she possibly have against her own step-son to pull this kind of move against him? She’s purposefully backing him into a corner, and you see now why his lawyer had their work cut out for them despite the case seeming like an obvious decision to anyone who’s met Sukuna and his brothers.

Picking up his iPad and shoving the papers on his desk aside, he turns on the screen and taps around the device. “You won’t believe how much this bullshit costs, too,” he grumbles. “I swear she’s doing it on purpose.” He taps on the screen a couple of times, his mounting frustration becoming obvious as he taps harder each time. “She’s fuckin’ dragging everything out, too. This all just leads to another fucking court date and more fucking money for my fucking lawyer, and she’s putting Choso n’ Yuji through so much shit, and-”

As Sukuna’s rambling grows in intensity, you push off from where you were leaning against the door, running your hand over his rigid back as he faces away from you. He stiffens, his speech cutting off the moment your fingers run along the muscles. “It’ll be okay. You’ll win,” you smile reassuringly, dropping your hand and stepping off to the side to see his face as he fiddles uselessly with his iPad.

“And if I don’t?”

“You will.”

His temple twitches as he grits his teeth, his gaze fixed on the device in his hands. “And if I don’t?” He growls. His brow is pulled together in a tight furrow, and although his eyes blaze with frustration, it’s not directed at you.

“If you don’t…” you chew on your lip, gingerly reaching out to soothe your thumb over his hand that’s fidgeting with the volume buttons on the side of the iPad, clicking them with enough force to damn-near break them. His fingers steady as you run your thumb over his knuckles like second nature. “Then you’ll figure things out.”

His eyes flicker wildly around your face, as though he’s searching for something. He swallows hard, his gaze returning to his desk.

“Don’t worry about that, okay? You can face that if it comes to it.”

He inhales sharply and nods, twitching his fingers into yours, only for you to pull away. He knows you mean well and he still appreciates your support, but it serves as another reminder of what he’s lost.

“Right,” he agrees, turning his attention to the iPad as he opens his latest project.

Peeking over the screen, you catch a glimpse of a character that you recognize instantly despite having never seen it before. “Is that Baby Whale?”

“You can just ask to see it, brat,” he grumbles, pulling the device out from under your nose as though you’re Yuji obnoxiously trying to get a peek at whatever Sukuna’s working on.

“Sorry,” you grin innocently.

Rolling his eyes, Sukuna tilts the screen towards you. A sweet little purple whale beams at you with pink rosy cheeks. You’re forced to bite your lip in an effort to stop yourself from giggling at the sight of the brute before you who’s drawn the most cutesy character you can possibly imagine. There’s nothing wrong with it by any means, but it’s definitely not his first choice of character, you’re sure of that.

“Yeah, it’s Baby Whale. Do you guys ever get original shit or should I be worried about gettin’ a fast porcupine or some shit next?”

“Mm, I’d worry. We get them here and there, but…” you shrug.

“Great,” he sighs, reaching down to his desk to hold up a few of the pages he’d just printed to get Maya to sign off on. “Here.”

Your eyes light up as you sift through the pages. They’re for a horror-type series of some sort, as far as you can tell, of two children on an adventure, though you aren’t quite sure what it’s a knock-off of, if it is one. Each cover has a vastly different environment, from a jungle beneath a volcano to an abandoned cityscape. Though it’s not in Sukuna’s traditional sketchy charcoal style that you’ve grown to love, they’re still gorgeous. The painterly effect he’s given them is stunning, reminiscent of a watercolor painting.

“These look amazing,” you breathe, sifting through the pages. You come to land on one cover of the two kids in a crystalline cavern with a lizard crawling towards the reader of the novel.

He hums. “I don’t mind the job when I’m not drawin’ knock-off shit.”

So it is original. “I mean, even when you are, it’s gotta be better than stocking shelves, right?” You ask, gaze trained on his artwork.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Still owe you for this.”

“I thought we talked about this,” you smirk, raising a brow as you come to meet his gaze.

He lets out a breath through his nose in somewhat of a laugh. “Thanks, princess.” He pokes gently at your arm as you smile at him and for a moment a familiar air of comfort settles over you. It’s gone before Sukuna can really relish in it, though, as you pull away with a sigh.

“I should get to work. Let me know if you need anything?”

Sukuna frowns as you retreat. “Yeah. See ya at lunch.”

–

You’ve passed the courthouse a number of times on your way to get-togethers with friends across the city, but it’s never seemed to loom over you quite like this. From what Sukuna mentioned, this conference thing seems to be little more than a formality and a requirement and you’re pretty sure no decisions will be made today, unless his step-mother has some sort of miracle change of heart.

From the way Sukuna’s described her, you don’t get the feeling that’s likely.

Having never been to the courthouse yourself, you arrive decently early in case you need to fill out forms, or something of the sort.

It never really occurred to you just how little you know about the world of legal proceedings until you’d found yourself online researching proper attire. You’d landed on something you would usually wear to work anyway, a pale white blouse and a pair of fitted slacks that hug your hips in all the right areas.

A pair of simple black heels adorn your feet as they click across the ground. A stark flash of pink catches your eye, the man himself leaning against the smooth faux brick of the courthouse, smoke spiraling into the air. His head leans back against the outer building wall as he watches the smoke billow and rise.

A suit jacket hangs over his shoulders, a tie done up to his neck, though he seems to have tugged it a bit loose. His hair is pushed back out of his face with gel, though it’s so long it’s somewhat unruly anyway as a few strands still tickle his forehead.

You can’t deny that your heart palpitated once, maybe even twice at the thought of how handsome he looks with his broad shoulders pulling the suit jacket taut. It gets harder to deny your own feelings when every time you see him, he continues to prove that he has changed, and you find yourself forced to listen to the blood roaring in your ears as your heart rate skyrockets.

“Hey,” you greet him, catching him off-guard. His head whips down, his eyes trailing your outfit and lingering a moment too long on your hips. Any other day, he’d mentally scold himself for staring, but his mind is such a mess that he hardly realizes he’s doing it until you jut your hips out expectantly with a hand on one side when he doesn’t reply.

His eyes shoot up to meet your gaze, flitting down to the shy smile you wear, having blatantly noticed the way he checked you out. Clearing his throat, he grunts in reply.

Your cheeks are warm, even as you consider the emotions drawn across his face. You can’t say for sure what’s going through his mind, although you can make an educated guess when the muscles in his forehead twitch. He isn’t quite scowling, nor does he wear the familiar pride on his sleeve that you’ve grown accustomed to.

It’s exactly what you mentioned to Shoko.

This isn’t Sukuna. It’s not the frustrated man who masks his unease and fear with anger, lashing out needlessly. But it’s also not the sly and cocky asshole who’s surprisingly thoughtful and conscious of others.

It’s like he’s someone else, someone you can’t identify and don’t know how to help. His fear isn’t getting the best of him, his anger isn’t overflowing and misdirected with nowhere to go. Those, you know how to handle. But now, he’s simply lost.

“How are you feeling?”

Grateful for the nicotine calming him enough to give you a competent answer, he tilts his head in a semblance of a shrug. “Fine, I guess. Not like there’s any point in this bullshit.”

With a grimace, you take a step towards him. “Do you really think this is for nothing?”

Sukuna inhales deeply as he takes a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke within his lungs as he considers your question. “She’s tryin’ to bleed me dry of cash. That’s all this is. If she really cared, we’d settle shit here.”

“Shit,” you breathe. Sukuna casts a glance at you, but ultimately chooses not to comment on your choice of word. “I really thought this was meant to be the actual trial,” you admit.

Blowing smoke over his head to keep it out of your face, he nods. “I did too. My lawyer explained it last week and I meant to tell ya, but then shit happened and Choso,” he motions his hand lazily through the air before dropping it at his side. “I dunno. I don’t get the point of all this shit.”

“Your lawyer just told you last week that this isn’t the full trial?” You gape. Had Hiromi steered Sukuna in the wrong direction? Shouldn’t he know this?

He shrugs again. “Nah, I just didn’t get it.”

“Oh.” Fiddling with your thumbs, you nod. “So what’s after this?”

Dropping his cigarette on the pavement at his feet, he stomps it out, grinding his foot on it. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shakes his head, frustrated with the system. “We wait a couple of months until the actual trial.”

“A couple of months?” You’re not sure if their family can make it through waiting a couple more months with Sukuna and Choso acting so distant that even Yuji’s been affected. It’s strange to think that a system meant to take every precaution and is bleeding them dry. Of money, of time, and of life.

Sukuna seems to share your dismay as he adds, “at least we get more time to prepare, I guess.”

Whispering an ‘I guess’ in agreement, you let Sukuna usher you inside with a hand on your lower back. Though he drops his hand as you head through security and check-in with a clerk at a grand wooden desk in the center of the large lobby.

It’s not long before you’re sitting in a couple of uncomfortable wooden chairs in a room full of strangers. Sukuna deliberately sits near a woman with a short brown bob, leafing through paperwork as she reviews the case she’s working on, although he doesn’t say a word to her.

“Is that your lawyer?” You ask, tilting your chin towards the woman beside Sukuna in a pristine-looking suit. She’s the definition of confidence as she flips through what you assume are notes, which helps settle your nerves a bit.

Sukuna nods, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, Ms. Harte,” he addresses her before introducing you both.

She smiles warmly at you, extending a professional hand. “Mr. Sukuna mentioned you would be here to support him. I’m glad you could make it,” she shakes your hand firmly.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you greet her in return. Though you have no part in the proceedings, it’s at least nice to know that Sukuna and the boys are in good hands. Sukuna definitely owes Hiromi a favor, though he doesn’t need that reminder now.

“Case number 2493, Sukuna versus Itadori.” A clerk with a clipboard in his hands waits for both parties to join him, and it’s then that you see a face so painfully familiar, yet completely foreign. You’ve never met her, but you recognize her instantly. Choso is a spitting image of Kaori Itadori, with deep umber eyes and dark brown hair. Yuji, on the other hand, clearly got Jin’s genes.

Beside her is a tall man in a full beige suit, sporting a well-kept graying beard. He walks with the same confident gait as Ms. Harte on Sukuna’s opposite side, but he carries himself with an air of superiority that you assume only money can buy. Money that Kaori clearly has, if the massive diamonds adorning her collar are anything to go off of.

Sukuna’s step-mother eyes him with disgust before her gaze trails the length of your form. A chill runs up your spine, sending ice straight through your veins that matches the look in her eyes. She regards you with so much disdain, yet it’s the mild interest that gleams in her eyes that makes your skin crawl.

The clerk leads the way down a hall to a small room labelled ‘Private Meeting Room 2’. Within the room is one long table with a number of chairs on either side. Both parties take their seats on the same side of the table, keeping a small distance between one another. Sukuna’s lawyer advises you to take a seat and keep to the back of the room, as you can’t participate in the discussion.

From your seat, you can see the way Kaori folds her hands in her lap, grinning at her lawyer as she laughs at something he says. The stark contrast to Sukuna’s silence as he leans over the table is immense, but in contrast to the nerves you expected him to have, he keeps a straight  face.

In the informal meeting room setting, there’s no need to rise as an older gentleman in judges’ attire enters the room. His pale blond hair thins at the sides of his face, gentle wrinkles accentuating his features. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the table, the soft edges of his eyes crinkling as he evaluates both parties and yourself.

You’re grateful for the intimate setting of the meeting, as it eases your own nerves. While the courthouse itself does no favors to settle the growing discomfort in your stomach, the small room has an almost cozy feel to it. There’s an air to the man before you that he wants to help and understand the case that sits well with you, as well.

“Judge Marcos will be overseeing this case conference this morning in the matter of Sukuna versus Itadori,” the clerk begins the session.

The judge settles back in his chair, clasping his hands over the documents laying in front of him. “The purpose of this conference is to come to a resolution before the matter goes to a trial.” He proceeds to explain that a case conference aims to narrow down issues prior to a trial and that this will be a more open conversation with more wiggle room than a traditional trial. He then confirms that disclosure of all evidence has taken place. With all expectations set on the table, the judge sits back as Kaori’s lawyer begins.

“Your Honor, my name is Richard Cahn and I represent the applicant, Kaori Itadori.”

Ms. Harte follows suit at Sukuna’s side, sitting upright to introduce herself as the counsel for Sukuna, the respondent.

“Counsel for the applicant, please begin.”

With the court, if you can even call the small meeting room that, now in session, mounting tension fills the air. It’s overbearing, the way the gravity in the room seems to drag down on every person in the room, yourself included.

“Your Honor, my client is seeking sole guardianship with no visitation rights of her children Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori. We have reason to believe that Mr. Sukuna is a negative influence on the children for a number of reasons and it is Ms. Itadori’s maternal right as their mother to raise her children,” Mr. Cahn begins without faltering, introducing their points succinctly.

Clearing her throat, Ms. Harte responds with equal clarity. “Your Honor, my client is more than fit to be their guardian, as he has demonstrated over the past three years. The children’s needs are met, they are in school, and Mr. Sukuna has a clear record with no need to raise any concern regarding his abilities. My client would like to remain in sole custody of the children, however he is open to Ms. Itadori having visitation rights as their mother.”

Of course, she left out the part where that portion is much to his dismay and he’d only grant that right at the request of the kids. That’s not for the opening statements, though.

Much like Sukuna anticipated, Kaori is unwilling to cooperate. Every single option is shut down before the conversation can begin. Although he remains as an unbiased third party, even the judge seems somewhat perturbed at the obvious disdain shared between Sukuna and Kaori. Their dislike of one another runs far deeper than even that of most ex spouses that end up in this room.

What starts as a polite and orderly conversation primarily between the lawyers quickly devolves into some sort of familial tension that clearly extends beyond the courtroom. You can’t see either of their faces from your position at the back of the room, but you can feel the heat radiating from Sukuna as he seethes through each deceitfully polite performance from Kaori, but even she begins to crack when Sukuna pushes back.

“Your Honor, with all due respect, I won’t tolerate any settlements. I don’t feel comfortable leaving my children in the hands of my step-son,” Kaori repeats herself for what feels like the fifth time as the judge attempts to find a middle-ground, but she’s completely unwilling to budge. Even visitation rights for Sukuna seem to be so far off the table they may as well be six feet in the ground, along with any love she may have had for her step-son.

“You didn’t have a problem with it when I couldn’t reach you three years ago,” Sukuna quips, his anger clear through his tone although he remains even. He may be anxious as hell and equally furious, but knowing that this is all for naught and his lawyer may as well be a bill whose total increases by the second, his frustrations grow fiery.

“Ryomen, we’ve provided all the medical documents that were requested as proof of my illness and I would appreciate if you didn’t dismiss them.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Sukuna finally bursts, slamming his hand flat on the table.

“Mr. Sukuna,” the judge warns sternly, leaning over the table. “I expect proper courtroom etiquette, even here. We’re here to discuss the matters at hand, not your opinions of the applicant.”

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls as he physically bites his tongue to keep from saying something he’ll regret. Leaning back in his chair, he casts a glance at the door, desperate to escape from this room. Unlike the rest of the legal proceedings, this whole conference just serves to piss him off.

“Apologies, Your Honor, my client is simply stressed as he cares very deeply for his brothers,” Ms. Harte steps in, clearing her throat to put Sukuna’s thoughts into a court-approved statement. “While my client was unaware that Ms. Itadori was ill, he did use multiple methods of contact to reach out, and Ms. Itadori didn’t respond.” Turning to address Kaori, she clasps her hands together. “Should it not be your responsibility to inform your step-son and husband of your new contact?”

Kaori’s lawyer pipes in. “As we stated earlier, she was required to change all contact information and moved closer to her office upon starting with her new company. She shared her contact information with her husband, however it seems he didn’t share this information with Mr. Sukuna, or save her updated number before passing.”

The tattooed brute has to physically mask his scoff. He coughs into his elbow, shaking his head. He’d called from both his cell and his dad’s cell, he’d sent letters both from him and Choso, he’d emailed, and even searched social media. How convenient that she somehow had everything accounted for. That’s not even mentioning the additional money Sukuna spent to have land titles for her name pulled just to see if she had purchased new property, only to come up blank.

She had completely and utterly dropped off the face of the earth. As far as Sukuna was concerned back then, she made her position on her family clear.

As far as Sukuna is concerned now, he’ll do everything in his power to show her not to fuck with him. He doesn’t care how much his chest tightens, he doesn’t care if it feels as though he’s watching everything around him as nothing more than an observer outside of his own body. He doesn’t care if his mental health suffers for all the shit she’s putting him through.

He’ll move heaven and earth to save his brothers from her.

The judge frowns, having heard this argument already. The meeting room is running in circles like a dog chasing its own tail, they were never going to get anywhere at this rate.

“Mr. Sukuna did his due diligence and has taken care of the children for three years, they are healthy and cared for and there is no evidence against-”

“I’ll believe that when I see the house study,” Kaori interrupts, the first phrase to come from her that feels genuine as she diverts her attention to a small window at the edge of the room. Sukuna’s hand balls into a fist on the table.

“Ms. Itadori. Let the respondent finish.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. There is no evidence to disprove my client’s ability to care for the children. No one has ever expressed any concern to him. The children attend school with good attendance and have remained healthy over the years. Mr. Sukuna earns more than enough to keep a roof over their heads and put food on the table,” Ms. Harte continues.

“Your Honor,” Mr. Cahn addresses the judge. “I would like to see the house study before coming to any conclusions.”

Sukuna sighs, leaning back further in his chair. Kaori’s lawyer had pushed for a rush assessment, but even with the rush, it isn’t meant to be ready anytime soon.

“My son Choso has always been easily influenced, and I worry while he’s under Sukuna’s care.”

Sukuna’s fist hits the table. “Please-” he gripes.

“Mr. Sukun-” The judge tries to interject, but it’s no use.

“You never cared, you’re just feeding them the bullshit they want to hear!” He snarls, flipping in his chair to face her. “You care about them about as much as you care about me!”

“Mr. Sukuna. I understand being emotional in this situation, but I will not allow this behavior to continue. We will proceed without you if you feel the need to act without respect.”

Sukuna shoots Kaori one last glare before sitting back in his chair. He’s not doing himself any favors by lashing out, but he can’t help but feel as though this entire system is playing a game against him and he isn’t even aware of it. It’s as though everyone is a puppet in Kaori’s little game and the kids are prizes to be won.

Rubbing his eyes, the tattooed man sighs. “Sorry… Your Honor.”

“Ryomen, I’ve always cared about you,” Kaori sends him a disingenuous look of sympathy. Her lips curl into a false smile, but to any outsider, Sukuna knows it would appear genuine.

Even to you, it’s hard to tell.

Gritting his teeth, Sukuna keeps his gaze set dead ahead. If he doesn’t keep his cool, he knows he’ll be thrown out of the room. “Do you know when I realized you didn’t give a shit about me?”

“Watch your language,” Ms. Harte warns quietly at his side in an attempt to keep the judge at bay.

The conversation doesn’t exactly pertain to the case, but the judge remains silent. Sukuna’s question is met with no opposition.

Kaori swallows, watching with a furrowed brow as Sukuna’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “Dad told me to go find you at my grandfather’s funeral. He was cryin’, needed some time alone. Do you remember where you were?”

Kaori’s eyes flicker down to the table. Her tongue swipes across her lower lip before she bites it momentarily.

“Do you remember where you were?” Sukuna pushes in a growl now, leaning over the table.

“Objection, Your Honor, this is not pertinent to the case,” Kaori’s lawyer speaks up, setting his foot down as he realizes that this doesn’t bode well in their favor.

“Where were you, Kaori?” He snarls, his voice gravelly as he grips the arm of his chair with white knuckles.

“Objection sustained. Mr. Sukuna, stay focused please.”

Sitting back harshly in his chair, Sukuna’s practically shaking. You may not be able to speak, but certainly as his support person, you can support him, right? Gingerly, you slide your chair forward quietly, wincing as it scrapes lightly against the floor. It catches Kaori’s attention as she shoots you a glare. You have half a mind to shoot that same glare back but that’s not important right now.

Close enough to reach Sukuna, you slip your hand over his much larger one that still grips the arm of his chair. Your fingers slide between his, slotting so easily into place as though they belong there. Your heart does a flip at the thought, but you keep your attention fixed on Sukuna and his needs.

From the corner of his eye, he glances down at your hands. His chest continues to heave in frustration, but as the conversation rolls back around to the subject of the kids and points begin getting reiterated and repeated until Sukuna’s hardly even paying attention anymore, he finds himself beginning to calm down. His shoulders gradually slouch, his fingers folding over yours as he gives your hand a grateful squeeze.

Kaori should be grateful to you, because Sukuna’s sure he would have torn into her if you weren’t here. He would have been thrown out, sure, but at least for once he might get answers to his own mistreatment by his step-mother.

How can the judge not see that the information is relevant? He huffs to himself, earning a couple of looks, but no one mentions it.

After hearing about Sukuna’s supposed inability to care for the kids for the fourth time, the judge finally raises a white flag.

“Coming up on the end of our time, I see we aren’t getting anywhere. A trial date will be scheduled for after the house study is received. Any further evidence must be submitted via the official disclosure process both to the court and each party.”

Your friend sighs at your side. Another two hours of his lawyer’s time. Another bill. More money down the drain. He knew how this would play out from the beginning.

“I would suggest you continue mediation between now and then to see if you can come to an agreement. I encourage you to attempt to understand one another outside of the court,” the judge adds, but Sukuna can’t even bear to look at Kaori. It’s of no use, and everyone within the room is well aware.

“I will issue my endorsement for a trial in writing. This matter is now adjourned.”

Breathing out a disdainful sigh, Sukuna squeezes your hand once, before untangling his fingers from yours as he pushes up out of the chair. It’s hard to get a read on him as you follow him out of the meeting room into the lobby. Standing off to the side, you allow him a few minutes to speak with his lawyer, watching the way he seems painfully frustrated as he lazily shrugs his shoulders. Even from this angle you can tell every time he rolls his eyes.

As Kaori and her lawyer approach Sukuna, his shoulders tense.

“I’m sorry the circumstances couldn’t be better, but it’s good to see you aga-”

“Don’t pretend like you give a fuck!” Sukuna barks, turning heads. Your eyes widen as all attention is suddenly on your group. Even standing off to the side, you find yourself shrinking away from the prying eyes.

“Ryomen, you know this isn’t what I wanted,” Kaori replies evenly, easily keeping her cool under Sukuna’s searing gaze.

He scoffs, waving his hand through the air in exasperation. Always the picture of a calm and perfect wife, of course she had Sukuna’s father wrapped around her finger while she went off and did her own thing. Jin could never be that upset with her so long as she batted her lashes and doubled down on her innocence.

“I don’t fuckin’ know what you want,” he mutters, laughing dryly as he casts his gaze to the side of the courthouse. His voice returns to a reasonable level, though it drips with venom. “So, what the fuck is it, then? You want money, you want to tear me down because I know what you fuckin’ did?”

His step-mother’s eyes darken in such a subtle way that an outsider might not even realize her smile is a facade. Nothing more than painted lines on a meaningless canvas. You can’t help the way a shiver runs up your spine as you slowly make your way back to Sukuna’s side when you notice security is keeping a watchful eye on him for any more disruptions. He should consider himself lucky he’s even still in the building at this rate.

Settling beside your friend, you can feel just how red hot his fury is. Kaori casts a curious once-over of your form as you stand alongside her step-son with a curious smile that doesn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna as he steps between you. He knows he asked you to be here, but he’s not about to let Kaori say a single damn word to you. You may be his support, but you won’t be involved in whatever lies she’s brewing.

You can only blink in surprise as Sukuna’s hand finds your forearm without glancing back, keeping you safely behind him where she can’t even so much as glimpse at you. Blinking up at him, you can only make out the edges of his tattoos and a glint of the uneasiness that sidles his anger.

“That was a long time ago, Ryomen. I want us to be able to move past that.”

“Yeah? Is that why we’re here? To move past everything?” He hisses in a mocking tone, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

“You wouldn’t have cooperated if I tried to work with you on this, sweetheart.”

Even from your spot behind him, you don’t miss the way your friend visibly recoils at the term of endearment. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he hisses.

“Mr. Sukuna, I think it’s in our best interest-” Ms. Harte makes an attempt to de-escalate the situation, to no avail.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” Sukuna blows past his lawyer’s warning, his voice rising in decibels. “Cho and Yu don’t want this!”

Kaori remains eerily calm as she shoots Sukuna the most fake sympathetic stare you’ve possibly ever witnessed. “They’re kids. They’re too young to know what they want.”

“They’re smart!” Sukuna barks.

Stern voices sound behind you and you cast a glance at the quickly incoming security guards, where Sukuna will surely be ushered out.

Not that he cares at this particular moment. “They don’t care about you! They don’t even know you!” He continues, his jaw tightening. “You never even fucking visited! Don’t you know how many Christmases Cho spent asking if you called or mailed something?” Sukuna waves his hand through the air, his eyes wild with rage. If Kaori’s affected by his words at all, it’s carefully masked. “You fucked your own family!”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” a large man in a black security vest is followed closely by two other equally large men as they approach the brutish man in front of you.

In such a blind rage, their words don’t even register to Sukuna.

“If you gave a single shit about Jin, about any of us, you would have been there for the funeral,” he snarls, his chest heaving.

The security guards slowly advance towards Sukuna as Kaori replies. “I wanted to be there. I wish I could have been.”

The lawyers continue to try to defuse the situation, all the while the security guards’ intensity increases as they get infinitely closer to grabbing him and physically throwing him out. The guards may be big, but you can only imagine a man like Sukuna is still daunting.

Setting your hand on his back, Sukuna straightens, casting a glance at the guards that he’s now overly aware of, only to realize it’s not their hand. His head whips towards you as he gains clarity on the situation, his crimson eyes blazing with rage. Subtly leaning into your touch, he raises his hands in surrender, addressing the guards.

“I’m leavin’,” he mutters, his hands falling down to his side with a plop as they collide with his slacks on either side. “Thanks, Ms. Harte,” he mutters as he turns to make his way out.

The security guards follow him closely, tensing as he turns back to Kaori for one moment, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek as he contemplates something. “I didn’t tell him, by the way.” He examines her face, some sick form of satisfaction pooling in his chest as her mask breaks for a moment. Her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting, but Sukuna doesn’t want to hear whatever she has to say.

You cast a glance between the two, not daring to ask any questions with Sukuna ready to blow a fuse.

Stalking through the security checkpoint at the front of the building, he pushes the large wooden doors with enough force to cause them to slam on their hinges as you follow him out into the cool outdoor air.

“Fuck!” He barks straight up at the clouds above, dragging his hands through his hair as he stares up at the overcast sky. His fingers tangle in the pink locks, tousling the strands as more hair falls out of place. “She’s such a fucking-” He cuts himself off, only because you’re still at his side. Huffing loudly, he leans over the masonry fence at the edge of the stairs out front of the courthouse, his hands covering his face.

You’re silent as he remains there for a moment, coming up slowly beside him. Leaning on your hip against the smooth brick beside him, you peer over at him.

Sensing your presence, Sukuna’s hands drop, crossing over one another out in front of him. Letting out a breath, he absently cracks his knuckles, staring at the bare winter trees that extend in front of you. His chest heaves with every breath he lets out, his muscles tensing with each time he barely holds back the choice words he wants to say about his step-mother.

You stay silent at his side, offering quiet comfort in your presence, but it’s your hand on his bicep that truly calms him. His entire demeanor shifts as your hand gently rubs up and down his arm in a soothing motion. With one long inhalation, he tilts his head to look up at you.

He’s not sure why he expects to see a look of disappointment. Deep down, some part of him expects you to retreat back into your shell after he caused a scene, but you only peer down at him with understanding and what might even be grief. He’s not sure why he would even suspect you to regard him with disappointment when that’s not who you are. You get him.

His brow furrows further the longer he stares at you, growing frustrated with himself for projecting his own negative thoughts onto you.

“What’s on your mind?” You query at the sight of his glower.

Averting his gaze, he shakes his head. “Nothing.” He shifts slightly into your touch, reaching up to rub your hand with his opposite one. With one last pat on your skin, he stands upright, rolling his shoulders back as he turns away from you to face the courthouse with a huff. “I should let you head back,” he mutters, barely audible.

“Actually, um-” you pause, shamelessly watching the way he raises a large, veiny hand to his shoulder to attempt to rub at a knot in his muscles. Tearing your gaze away, you push down the uneasy flip that your stomach does at the realization that the grumpy man standing in front of you has changed and even if things are never the same as they once were, you’re happy to stand by and support him and his family. After all, you don’t need to let him carve the same place in your heart that he once had, right? He can be important to you without holding such a big piece of your love.

If anything, maybe the distance between you will help you overcome your feelings and be what he clearly needs.

A friend.

It may hurt to know your feelings aren’t reciprocated, but you’re happy to hold him dear as a friend if it’s all you ever are to one another. Once you overcome your infatuation, you’re sure you can find a comfortable place within his life that makes sense for you both, rather than hoping for something that will never work.

As you hesitate with the mess in your mind, Sukuna turns to face you, raising a brow expectantly.

“Sorry, um- did you want to grab lunch? I’m hungry.”

His eyes widen briefly at your offer. Not an offer for help, or support for his siblings or what he’s going through. Just an offer to hang out. To be friendly.

He’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“I, uh- I can’t really afford lunch. I’ll just-”

“I’ll pay,” you offer without thinking twice.

His brow furrows as frustration crosses his features.

But he’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Sure. What’d you have in mind?” He gruffs in spite of his standoffish expression.

“A new ramen place opened up near me that I’ve been wanting to try but their hours are awful so I can never go after class or work, but I bet they’re actually open right now.”

“Whatever you want,” he agrees. “Lead the way, princess.”

As you shyly avert your eyes at the nickname with a sweet smile crossing your lips, two things occur to Sukuna as he follows behind you to your car.

The first; he’s never considered himself a particularly lucky man, but when it comes to your place in his life, he may have won the lottery. He can still see your walls, he knows he hasn’t patched the bridge that stands between you, but at least if he treads carefully you’re still there and for that he’s beyond grateful.

And the second; no matter how tense his muscles are, no matter how empty his bank account is, no matter how badly he wants to tear into Kaori in a courtroom and have the judge take his word for how shitty she is, you still manage to make him smile.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; i put together some husband!wyk!sukuna headcanons if you wanted to check those out here and i put together a playlist here <33

helloooo!! thanks for all the patience with the delay between chapters, i appreciate it <33 it gave me the time to not only write out both ch13 and 14, but also ensure they fit well with one another and all the details make sense.

a lot of research went into this and i want to thank my two absolutely lovely followers @/aagathokakologicall and @/notcharliw for all their help with the legal details as well! information on proceedings isn't super readily available and they were a huge help! i also took a few liberties to try to make sure the processes are easy to follow and interesting for the audience, so hopefully i've pulled that off here! i was hoping to land somewhere between tv drama and realism.

if you notice any errors in the legal processes... no you didn't :) LMAO

i say it every time and will continue to say it: thank you so much as always for all the love for wyk <33 it makes my day and it's a big driving factor in my motivation to write, so thank you. i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoyed 🫶

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @jeonwiixard

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts

@lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[y3sterdaysproblem]

they said speak now - m.s.

summary: you and matt had been best friends since the moment you were born, rarely doing anything without him by your side. your families have always expected the two of you to end up together, but when matt gets a girlfriend that hates you and desperately attempts to destroy your relationship, you’re forced to confront the truth about your feelings for him. will your bond survive the test, or will the pressure of love, jealousy, and change push you apart?

wc: 3k

cw for this chapter: mentions of nausea and emetophobia

series masterlist

Part four

Nick was truly your saving grace in this past month, including now as you guys help your parents clean after all the guests had left, cracking jokes and giggling about whatever nonsense is running through his mind.

Chris’s laughter is echoing through the house at something Nick said, his shoulders shaking as he curls his body around a kitchen chair for support. You laugh at him, taking a couple steps closer as your own giggles rip out of you, wrapping one arm around his back and pressing your face into his shoulder, both of you going silent from how hard you were laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Matt asks with a small chuckle, walking into the kitchen with Amber behind him, an uninterested expression on her face.

“Chris thinks I’m hilarious, apparently,” Nick says dryly, pointing to the two of you cackling over seemingly nothing. You’re barely able to speak as you pull away from Chris and turn to face Matt, your face still scrunched up from how hard you were laughing. “I’m just-!” You suck in a deep breath and grab your stomach, unable to catch your breath.

Matt laughs and steps forward, placing his hands on each of your shoulders. “You’re just…?” He encourages and it only makes you laugh more. “I’m just laughing at Chris!” You finally choke out. “He’s contagious!”

Chris hears this and his knees buckle from underneath him, the chair no longer enough to keep him upright as his cackling took over his body. He bumps into you on the way down and you squeal as he knocks your own knees out, your weakness from laughing causing you to tumble over on top of him on the kitchen floor.

This sends everybody into another round of laughter as Chris’s arms wrap around you, holding you close to him, almost as an apology for knocking you over. Amber is silent behind Matt, picking at her nails like she’d rather be anywhere but here. Nobody pays her any mind for the next few moments until you and Chris have calmed down, Matt finally turning around and wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her close.

“You alright?” He asks her quietly, his voice soft and sweet like it always was. She nods at him and half smiles, meeting his eyes. “Yeah, just didn’t get the joke.” She responds, her tone slightly judgmental as she shoots a look over at you and Chris still on the floor.

Matt hums and nods at her, pulling her slightly closer as he looks over at you as well. “It probably wasn’t even funny. Chris laughs at everything and she thinks Chris’s laugh is funny. They’re the biggest gigglers I’ve ever met.” She crinkles her nose a bit at this, not appreciating the way Matt spoke about you. “Are they like… into each other or something?” Amber asks, gesturing at the way you two were curled into each other.

“Them? God, no. They’ve seen each other piss their pants too many times to be anything but friends. Besides, Chris likes girls that don’t pay attention to him,” Matt teases, increasing the volume of his voice so his brother could hear him.

“Hey!” The youngest boy pouts, standing up and helping you to your feet as well. “They’re just playing hard to get, that’s all.” You scoff and raise your eyebrows, staring up at Chris. “Is blocking you on social media considering playing hard to get?”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, his feelings anything but hurt at your teasing. “Are we going to the beach or what?” You nod your head and clap your hands excitedly, turning to the other figures in the room. “Yes! I’ll go grab my beach blanket!”

You brush past Matt on your way out of the kitchen and bound up towards your bedroom, heading to your closet where your large blanket was residing on the top shelf before running back down and going to the front door where everybody was filing outside. “Matt!” You call out, running to the front of the group to catch up with him, habitually looping your arm through his.

He turns his attention down to you and grins, the sight sending butterflies aflutter in your stomach, your own expression matching his instantly. “Did you get firewood?” You ask him, forcing yourself to speak instead of gawk. Matt nods down at you, furrowing his eyebrows playfully. “Of course I did. I also got stuff for s’mores like you asked.”

As you walk, you place your cheek on his shoulder, smiling even harder at his words. He was always so attentive, always making sure you were taken care of and never had to ask for anything twice. It was one of the things that you… really liked about him.

Instinctively, Matt reaches out and grabs the passenger side door handle to pull it open, guiding you inside and shutting it once you were sat comfortably. You don’t miss the way Amber huffs as she climbs into the middle row behind Chris who gets all the way in the back, clearly annoyed at the way Matt still lets you sit in the front seat despite their current situation.

During the ride to the beach, you couldn’t help but catch glances over at your best friend, admiring the way the setting sun illuminated his face perfectly, his squinted eyes captivating you. You giggle suddenly as you reach for your phone, pulling out the camera and holding it close to him, the lens focused on his side profile. “I’m just gonna start an album of you with the sun in your eyes,” you joke, making him laugh before he pulled down the visor to block out the beam of light in his eyes.

“I’m starting to think it’s just you,” he jokes, shooting you a look before focusing on the road again. “I’m only blinded by the sun when we’re together.” You smile shyly at him and pull your phone back into your lap, watching the way his lips curl up as he finds his joke hilarious, though to you his words made your heart race. You didn’t want to allow yourself time to overthink what he meant, just turning your body to watch the coast pass by in your window.

Once you guys were there and your blanket was laid out, you all started making your fire in the pit that was already there in the sand, music playing quietly from a speaker one of the boys had brought. “How crazy that we’re adults now?” Chris blurts out, standing up straight and placing his hands on his hips, admiring his perfect fire burning in the pit. “We’re adults,” Nick replies, pointing between you, Matt and himself. “You are going to be a helpless, adult wannabe for the rest of your life.”

“Wow, Nick, that’s nice,” Chris mumbles, pulling a giggle out of you and Matt.

Eventually when the fire is roaring and you guys are all settled on your blanket, music playing softly as you stare into the flames, is when you finally let yourself relax and just enjoy the moment. It’s hard to do that lately with Amber around, even just the idea of her makes it hard for you to relax. She’s always creeping into your mind, weaseling her way into your thoughts.

Normally on a night like this you’d be curled into Matt’s side, his arm around your shoulder while he talked to his brothers and you let your eyes flutter shut, dozing to the sound of the ocean in the background, but tonight that position was occupied, so you sat in between him and Chris with your knees pulled into your chest, minding your own space.

Your relaxation didn’t last long when you noticed Matt standing to his feet and pulling Amber with him beside you. Your heart rate sped up at the thought of why he was starting to walk away with her, their hands intertwined between them. The words he spoke to you earlier rang in your mind, echoing loudly as you watched their bodies get smaller as they walked closer to the ocean. I’m going to ask Amber to be my girlfriend later.

You have to tear your eyes away from them, and when you do, you notice Nick and Chris’s gaze on you, a melancholy expression on their faces. “I’m sorry,” Chris speaks up, and you’re surprised to hear the apology out of him. You’d never told him of your feelings for Matt. Did Nick say something?

“For what?” You ask him, leaning your chin on your knee and shooting him a small, forced smile. Chris sighs and scoots closer to you, reaching out to rub your back gently. “‘m sorry that he’s stupid and oblivious,” he tells you softly, his eyes drifting behind you to look at the couple momentarily before locking eyes with you again. “Listen, he just… he doesn’t know how you feel. Why have you never told him?”

You’re nervously shaking your head, scared of the reality of Chris knowing your feelings for Matt. He had such a loud mouth and wasn’t afraid to run it, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d accidentally spilled someone’s secret if he let this slip to his brother. “Chris, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say defensively, sitting up straight.

Chris shake his head quickly, stopping you from speaking any further. “I would never tell him,” he tells you seriously. “I’ve known for a long time. It’s obvious. Well, to everybody except him, I guess.” You let out a sad laugh at that and turn your attention over to Matt again, seeing him with his arms wrapped around Amber while she squeals, both of them illuminated by the sunset.

“I just want him to want me on his own. I don’t want to have to tell him I like him or have you guys put the idea in his head, I just… want him to just feel like that. And… if he doesn’t, then who am I to stop him from being with somebody that makes him happy? Even if she is…” you trail off, not wanting to seem rude, but both boys choke out a laugh and nod in agreement.

“Rude?” Nick offers, turning to look at her as well. “Entitled?” Chris joins in. “Kind of… built funny?”

“Nick!” You scold, glaring at him but unable to hide the growing smile on your lips.

He was only trying to make you feel better, not actually offer any insults to her frame. The truth was, everything about the way she looked was something to be jealous of, so Nick’s comment only made you more judgmental of yourself rather than her. How could Matt have feelings for you when girls like her wanted him?

After a few minutes of staring over at Matt and Amber, you didn’t even notice the way your eyes started to get blurry until you felt a hot tear running down your cheek, immediately bringing your hand up to wipe it away as you watched the way Matt held Amber so sweetly as he kissed her, presumably for the first time as his girlfriend. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, trying to rid yourself of the growing stream flowing down your face. “Oh no,” Nick says as he realizes you’re crying, scooting closer and wrapping an arm around you. Chris shuffled over to you on your other side and brings his own arm around you as well, your body wrapped up tightly in two of your best friends as they brought you comfort, both of them knowing that the only way now to rid yourself of these emotions was to just let go of your feelings for Matt, which would soon prove impossible.

When Matt and Amber came back to the blanket, you had pulled yourself together, even shooting them both a sweet smile, one that spoke for you without having to exchange any words. You guys made s’mores, shared silly stories, and even got a little bit serious about where to go from here now that you guys were seemingly all grown up.

“I’m tired,” Chris eventually groans out from next to you, stretching his arms above his head as he yawns. “Me too,” you agree, standing to your feet and brushing yourself off. The fire was basically dead at this point and so was most of the conversation, so it seemed like a fitting time to head home. After packing everything up back into Matt’s van, you walk around to the side of the car, but stop in your tracks when you see Amber reaching for the passenger door handle. “Umm..” you start nervously, not wanting to call her out and make a big deal out of it, but knowing what would happen if she sat in that seat. “What?” She asks you, eyebrows raised, almost challenging you.

“That’s her seat,” Nick comments, pulling the side door open and holding an arm out like he’s gesturing for Amber to go in this door. “I think she’ll be fine, right, Matt?” She says, bratty undertone in her voice evident to everyone but Matt.

The boy in question walks up beside her, clearly looking torn at the situation. “I mean… she’s never sat in the back seat before,” he says awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “She gets really carsick in the backseat so we always have her sit in the front. It’s just kind of.. how it’s always been?”

Amber huffs and crosses her arms. “Well now that I’m your girlfriend, I think I should get front seat privileges, don’t you?” Matt’s clearly uncomfortable, and his eyes are darting between you and Amber, like he doesn’t know what to do.

“Matt,” Nick says sternly, glaring at his brother. “She’ll be fine for twenty minutes,” Amber argues, her voice getting louder now. You hate seeing Matt like this, and as much as you want him to choose you, you know he’d rather cut off his arm before having to make a decision like this, so you just shake your head and sigh loudly. “Whatever, I’ll sit in the back.” You give in, turning your body to climb into the seat that’s behind the driver’s side.

Nick continues staring at Matt, annoyance clear in his face. He steps closer to him and presses a finger into his shoulder, not too hard, but hard enough to prove his point. “You are going to lose her faster than you realize if you keep up with this shit. You’d be fucking stupid to let that happen.”

Once he’s done speaking, he turns and gets in after you, slamming the door shut behind him.

It’s barely two minutes into the drive home when your stomach starts turning and your head starts to hurt, the motion sickness already starting to get to you. “Sorry, I need to open the windows,” you mumble to anyone that could hear you, rolling your window all the way down and leaning your head on it, hoping the cool breeze would help.

It helped a little bit, but when Matt hit a particularly curvy road, the outside air wasn’t enough to calm your stomach anymore. You didn’t want to complain and seem dramatic, but the way your mouth started filling with saliva and your head got dizzy, you knew you had to say something. “Matt,” you mumble, reaching forward to tap his shoulder uncoordinatedly, your breathing quickening. “Matt, pull over.”

He listens instantly, pulling off to the side of the road and you rip the door open, letting yourself out. You stumble around to the back of the car and lean against the trunk, heaving in deep breaths to try to calm yourself down, anxiety creeping in at the thought of having to throw up.

It’s not long before you hear footsteps approaching and a hand reaching forward to touch your shoulder, trying to stabilize you. “I’m sorry,” Matt says, voiced rushed and almost scared. “I wasn’t thinking, and she had a good point, I-“

You reach up and shove his hand off of you, leaning your hands on your knees as you tried to calm your heart rate down. “Fuck off, Matt,” you rasped out, snapping at him unexpectedly. His eyes widen in shock at your words, not used to being spoken to like that. The only time you’d ever say something like that was usually in a joking tone, but this was anything but that. “I didn’t think you’d throw up!” He defends again, holding his hands out defensively.

You groan, not wanting to listen to him right now. Not only were you frustrated with Matt, but the situation as a whole. Today was supposed to be one of your favorite days of the year, and here you were, hunched over in the middle of an empty road, trying to will yourself not to throw up, all over the possession of a passenger seat. “Just get back in the car and I’ll call my mom to come get me or something.”

Matt furrows his eyebrows, stepping close to you again. “No, it’s fine, I’ll just ask her to sit in the back.” He says quickly, reaching forward to brush some of the hair that was in your face away so he could look at you. “Let me get you home safe. It’s two in the morning, I don’t want you to have to wake your mom up.”

You stand up straight and face him, still grimacing from the nausea coursing through you. “I cannot deal with her whining right now, Matt. Just let the princess sit in the front and I’ll get home without you.” You grab your phone from your pocket and pull up your mom’s contact, calling her before Matt can stop you.

Your mom found out that night on the drive home, listening intently as you cried to her about the way you loved your best friend in a way he’d never love you, and for the first time in her life, your mom didn’t know how to mend your broken pieces.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @darksturnz @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @chrisbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @ariestrxsh @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[heartsforvin]

not sure if your requests are open but can you do one where vinnie is reader’s first boyfriend and they were having a deep talk and reader mentions that’s nobody’s ever gotten her flowers before? hehe thank youu 🩷🩷

FIRST LOVE

this one is sooo cute thank you for the request !!!

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!reader

warnings: cussing, use of pet names, overall fluff

summary: being in your first relationship, you’ve never received flowers, so vinnie changes that

everything about this was new to you. the affection, the random gifts just because, the entirety of the relationship even.

this was your first ever real relationship, everything about it was very new.

vinnie was a great guy, always making sure you were okay, always looking out for you.

today, you were heading over to vinnie’s apartment to hang out for the day.

the relationship was fairly new so sleepovers haven’t been discussed, but you can tell vinnie thinks about it when you’re together.

after applying minimal makeup, you texted vinnie that you were on your way to his place.

the drive wasn’t too long, the two of you living about twenty minutes away from each other.

once parked in the lot you grab your stuff and head up to his apartment, since he knew you were coming, you just let yourself in.

“vin i’m here!” you shout from the front door, seeing as he wasn’t in the living room or kitchen.

hera rounds the corner and purrs as she rubs her head against your leg.

you crouch down to pet her when you hear feet slide against the floor. “hey pretty.” vinnie greets.

you stand straight and smile. “hey, you.” you hug him, nuzzling your head in his neck.

he chuckles softly, rubbing your back. “what’s up with you today, huh?” he asks.

in the short months the two of you have been together, he’s picked up your habits and how affectionate you can get at times.

letting up from his embrace, you look at him. “nothin’ just missed you.” you reply.

neither of you had any major plans for today, just simply wanting to spend some time together.

you were still getting used to the whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, and so far you were liking it.

“you want somethin’ to drink?” he asks you, heading around the half wall that separates the front entryway and kitchen.

you nod. "yeah, thank you." you smile.

shuffling your shoes off, you get comfortable in his apartment. walking to the living room, you sit on the couch and go on your phone while waiting for vinnie.

"whatcha' want, pretty girl?" he asks, turning around to face the living room.

you turn around and smile at him, mainly at the pet name. "you got sprite?" you ask.

vinnie nods and grabs the can of soda for you. you watch a he closes the fridge door and makes his way to you.

he hands the can to you and you smile, thanking him. hera comes up on the couch beside you two, snuggling into your lap.

vinnie wraps his arm around you as you sip the soda, putting it on the coffee table when you're done.

the two of you sit like that for awhile, his arm moving back to his side, hand moving to lay on your thigh.

"have you had other girlfriends?" the question comes out of nowhere, making vinnie chuckle softly.

"where's this coming from?" he asks, thumb moving against the skin of your thigh.

you shrug, just wanting him to answer the question to which yay probably know the answer to. "yeah, i have." he tells you.

nodding, you bite your lip anxiously. "did you...did you ever get them things? you know, just because?"

vinnie stops his movements on your thigh, sitting up to get a better look at you. "why are you asking this?"

his tone wasn't an angry one, you could tell. he was just confused. "just.. answer the question, please."

he nods, hand on your knee. "yeah, i have here and there in the times i was with them." he answers.

nodding, you grab the soda can and take a sip. "i never have." you say quietly.

vinnie furrows his brow. "you've never gotten flowers?" be asks.

you hum. "not in a romantic way, at least. this is my first real relationship." you explain.

vinnie scoffs in shock. he knows this is your first relationship, that isn't anything new to him. you not getting flowers other from someone than family? that was news to him.

"you deserve flowers just because," he says quietly. "you deserve everything just because."

that makes you smile. that reminds you why you're with vinnie. he'll do anything for you, give you anything you want, anything you'd ask.

"what are your favorite?" he asks you.

the two of you are still getting to know each other, so the favorite flower subject hasn't come up until now.

"sunflowers," you smile widely. "i love sunflowers."

vinnie smiles back at you. "sunflowers, huh?" he says more to himself. "alright, i'll keep that in mind."

you can't help the grin that spreads across your face, feeling excited for the next time you see vinnie again.

he stanss up, holding his arms out for you to hug him. moving hera out of the way, you stand up and hug him.

he wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair, kissing your head. "you deserve everything, pretty girl," he whispers. "and I'm gonna give you exactly that."

guys i’m back (literally fr this time i SWEARRR) im sorry it’s taking me a decade to post 😔 but i hope you guys liked this !!!

tags: @deansbeer , @chrissturnslovergirlx , @nativegirltapes , @submattenthusiast , @khackerr , @slvthrs , @khxna , @laylasbunbunny , @visualbutterflysworld , @leqonsluv3r , @miilzzy , @bernelflo , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @hallecarey1 , @supabhad , @defnotayonna , @skye-44

[respectthepetty]

Going Crazy with Colors

The color of the duct tape tells me this kidnapping is the doing of our resident green monster.

Hello, sir.

However, is anyone else seeing pink on the right?

The green is obvious on the left, but am I seeing pink on the right?

Because the obvious culprit is the Green Guy since he set his plan in motion once Daon rejected him.

And he is the only one who consistently dresses is all black.

But the forum post came at the perfect time to destroy both Daon AND Su Hyeon, and Su Hyeon was being a regular blue prior to Daon disappearing, so when he appears to have no idea about the forum, it feels legit.

Like the green is always there, but the point is that his color will give him away because he doesn't try to hide his true color.

Unlike this one!

And although there is a hint of green in this scene, there is so much red when Daon entered the parking garage that we all knew he was in trouble, but who sent him there?!

Jaemin!

Like I wrote before, pink is simply a subdued red.

Su Hyeon was turning redder as Daon rejected him, but he doesn't need to win. He just wants Seong Hyeon to lose. This is why he entered into the deal with Jaemin in the first place. Nobody won.

But that's never been Jaemin's objective. It's always been him against the others hence the barrier.

And they all made wishes on that Christmas tree to stay together, but if we are going in order of how they were standing with Su Hyeon on the right, Daon in the middle, and Jaemin on the left,

Then that means the last wish about being together UNTIL DEATH DO THEM PART we see is Jaemin's, right? Or was it actually Daon's?

Jaemin was planning on leaving and tells everyone he doesn't plan to return,

But we also see snow when he is exiting his apartment.

Which, of course, is a reminder of the cabin.

Jaemin does not wear his color once in this episode.

But even our Blue Boy, with his misplaced anger, is still blue.

Once Jaemin's true color was revealed, the competition for Daon's heart was just down to two competitors — a Green Guy and a Blue Boy.

So how can Jaemin win the game for his Yellow Yal's heart when he can't even play?

Well, he can take the place of his opponents when they least expect it.

Or he can simply just end the game.

I could be clownin' and Su Hyeon could be the kidnapper which was quickly told through the green duct tape. Easy! But no matter how this goes down in the finale, the people behind the scenes of this show deserve a raise because even in that Christmas scene, Su Hyeon's pillow was pink, and Jaemin's was green.

And Christmas is the time for reds and greens, so although it's been Su Hyeon who has been living in the past, I don't think he has been the only one.

So much so, that he'd be willing to give up a future.

Jaemin, don't disappoint me. Be as crazy as the colors tell me you are.

@babyangelsky, we ride at dawn!

[fluffy-feathers23]

The ISAT Critter-beasts

I finished playing hit game In Stars and Time a month ago, and it's been on my mind nonstop ever since. in fact, since i finished the game, I've been working on. this exact post . I wanted to draw the characters, but i have a lot of trouble drawing normal people, so i made them all part animal !!

I might come back and redo that sketch later, but with just the height chart thing, the start of this post felt empty. so i'm including it anyway. please excuse any errors, i was working on it really late at night, right before my birthday (which happens to be the day i'm posting this, by the way !!!)

I've taken to calling these particular designs the "Critterbeast" versions, because it's fun to say and if i can't have fun thinking about them, then what's the point, right? :3 They're very Critter, but also very Beast. Critter-Beast.

Unsure on if this counts as an entire AU, but i have a lot of headcanons that could be considered part of one, i guess? This will be a long post so i'm cutting it here for dashboards but Keep Reading if you want to see my headcanons/AU 'canon' and a few extra design notes for everyone! Also includes some ever-changing playlists if you want to listen to them.

Siffrin

Animal: Guinea Pig - I started with Hamster, but since he denies looking like one in game, i thought it would be more fun to do something that looks like a hamster, but isn't!

When really excited about something (and sometimes when startled), Sif hops around and jumps up to a foot off the ground, which is called "pop-corning". They can also make flawless guinea pig noises, for obvious reasons.

The worse Siffrin feels mentally the colder they feel physically, which is noticeable by the rest of the party. It starts around mid-act 2, but Siffrin himself doesn't even notice it until act 3, and by act 4, they're visibly shivering whenever they stop moving, and every part of their body feels cold to the touch under their cloak, despite the thermo-regulation Crafted into it.

In act 5, Siffrin is CONSTANTLY shivering, EVERYTHING feels like ice, including the cloak, and it doesn't truly stop in act 6 or even post-game, though it does continue to only show up when they feel generally bad.

In addition, the colder they feel, the hotter everything else feels - all sources of warmth turn into a raging fire, including party member's healing abilities, which fill Siffrin's entire body with the heat of all the stars in the universe until they're over.

Completely refuses to drink Sweet Tonics or eat most sweet foods post-game. If it tastes too much like just sugar, or stars forbid, winds up burnt, he just can't handle it anymore.

Really likes stuffed animals, especially ones that are weighted. Every time there's a window display with one in it, Sif will stand there and just kinda. stare at it for a bit. Isabeau made them their own fox plushie as a gift and it's now their favorite thing ever and if they lost it, they would probably die.

The party chips in whatever they have to get him a new plushie sometimes. Where he keeps all of them, i have no idea, but there's a new one every few months. If Sif had one place to stay, their room would be filled with so many plushies.

Isabeau

Animal: Liger - I also considered Bear, but he has such Lion energy to me. and then i got to the coloring stage and thought the lack of patterns on lions would be really boring so i gave him stripes. wound up a bit more tiger than lion, woops !

Instinctively hugs and kneads pillows in his sleep, stretches like a cat, and makes growling noises instead of just yawning. Occasionally gets the urge to rip food apart with his bare hands, but somehow manages to resist. Most of the time.

Used to be a different animal entirely, before using a specialized sub-section of Body Craft to change it. Started leaning really hard into the behaviors of lions and tigers afterwards, and has been trying to break out of them a bit more, recently.

Still prefers black, but is known to experiment with all kinds of different colors of nail polish to match with outfits, including painting his claws. Rarely uses hair dye, unless it works really well with something he's willing to wear for a while.

Loves making gifts for people by hand, and has made at least one thing for each person in the party, as well as people they interact with often enough, like Loop or Petronille (once getting to know them well enough, that is)

Mirabelle

Animal: Dog/Poodle - I'll be honest there's not much basis beyond just Vibes for the majority of these characters. Mirabelle just kinda gives me small-ish dog vibes and poodle fits the best overall, i think.

Claude & the Head Housemaiden are both wolves, so Mira has picked up a handful of behaviors from them. Most importantly howling, whether communicating where you are, or just as a release of different emotions. She doesn't do it very often, but when she does, the rest of the party tends to join in.

Odile

Animal: Crane - I knew Odile was going to be a bird of some kind, but it was hard to narrow it down, so i just went with "general crane/heron". though i did most heavily reference the common crane and red-crowned crane, in terms of color and patterns.

[Note here to add the playlist when there's enough songs]

Her book is full of various different notes, from thoughts about a new food, to details about other party members she needs to know for later - she rarely shares what she writes about, but everyone knows it will come back around later on, eventually.

Sometimes the party will ask Odile to share stories of things from Ka Bue, like the Expressions. She doesn't quite remember most of them, there's just so many, but she's more than happy to share what ones she does know if they feel relevant to the current situation or particular person that's asking.

While Siffrin was being controlled by Loop, it wasn't particularly difficult to put together that something was wrong, but when Odile brought it up, everyone agreed that they should just give him some time to recover, and keep an eye on him just in case things got worse, so she didn't bring it up very often after that.

Bonnie

Animal: Crested Gecko - Bonnie just gives me lizard vibes, and crested geckos are just the silliest little lizards I've ever seen so it seemed perfect. I imagine Nille is some sort of bigger lizard like a crocodilian, but i admittedly haven't thought about her much.

[Another note here to add playlist with more songs]

The palms of their hands have the same "sticky pads" as gecko feet, so they're very good at climbing most surfaces. Bonnie uses this ability on a regular basis, mostly for things like trees and small cliffs.

Petronille was happy to join the party, but wanted to spend time with Bonnie at home for a while - so everyone has this agreement that, the next time they're all in Bambouche, Nille and Bonnie will join them on an adventure for real!

As of right now, Bonnie has yet to really meet Loop, and doesn't know about their new name. Mostly due to the fact that Loop only started showing up around the time Bonnie goes home, and they didn't regain their form until after the party left Bambouche.

Loop

THE character. my little guy. i want to pick them up and shake them around but they would probably kill me. This will be the longest section for any of the characters BY FAR so be prepared !!! :3

Animal: Silver Fox - It was hard to come up with something that made sense. Guinea pig would've still worked, but then it would've been hard to tell them apart from Siffrin in human form. There is a fox constellation, but that actually wasn't a factor in me making them a fox. I didn't find that out until after i already decided, though i did want the animal i chose to relate back to stars somehow, so it still works!

Prior to act 6, both of Loop's eyes were yellow, their colors were a lot duller, and they don't have the nebula cape. They get the cape after Siffrin's fight against the party, and their eye changes color during the fight with Siffrin.

Isabeau made their human form's cloak for them, after a lot of asking repeatedly, and Loop being unsure about what they would do with it, or if they even wanted a new one. Siffrin helped them out with some of the ideas, including the star clips.

Also really likes stuffed animals, but refuses to admit it, or even touch most of the plushies Siffrin gets. Some nights, Siffrin asks Loop to "hold onto" the fox plushie Isabeau made, which they secretly love and adore every single time, and doesn't seem to realize - or refuses to acknowledge - is Sif giving it to them, so they can have one too, even if only for a night.

Loop can still "check in" with Siffrin, just like they did at the Favor Tree - able to see and hear what's going on from their perspective, but not able to actually feel anything. They mostly just use this to talk, if there's something important Sif needs to know, or make sure they're okay, if they're farther away from each other.

Siffrin didn't want to fight Loop, at all, and obviously, Loop didn't give them a choice. But at some point they just. stop. give up. can't do it. Loop keeps it going, until it finally clicks that Siffrin isn't going to fight back anymore, but they stop a bit too late. Siffrin's so hurt now, the only thing Loop can do is keep them awake.

Loop fades away when everyone else comes for Siffrin, but. It's more like they went. "Dormant", i guess? They "wake up" later, able to watch everything that Siffrin does from his perspective, and eventually recover enough 'power' to take control of Siffrin's body.

No one really notices at first, but the more that Loop can control, and the more often they do it, the more obvious it becomes over time. Sometimes Siffrin just says something that's a bit off. or does something in a way that seems strange. but it wasn't enough to really pinpoint what was going on, especially since they still seemed to be recovering from the time loop.

Enough time passes, and Loop gets tired of having to control Siffrin in order to do anything, and the both of them split apart, somewhat hurting Sif in the process, but at least they're able to be their own people now. With the one limitation to it all being that Loop has to stay in a range where Siffrin can easily find them - usually, near Siffrin themself, but as long as Siffrin remembers where they are, it can be anywhere.

For a couple examples: If Siffrin remembers Loop is near the favor tree, then Loop can walk around anywhere in that area. And if they left Loop in a particular building, Siffrin would know they're in that building somewhere, so Loop can go just about anywhere they want while inside of it. If Loop wanted to follow someone somewhere, all Siffrin would need to do is find who they're with, and they find Loop, so that's also fine.

If they go too far from Siffrin, or their designated spot, they're automatically and forcefully pulled back in range of whatever they wind up tethered to, in order to ensure they do not get "lost".

After the split, Loop usually shows up as a small star, and initially prefers to use star-person form over human/"Siffrin" form when needing to interact with something, but grows to use the human form more often as time goes on. Mostly because it's harder to explain being a literal star than it is being Siffrin's "twin". definitely not more comfortable actually being themself.

Loop's stars emit a bit of heat, but their body itself is cold to the touch. The temperature difference is based on their emotional state. An angry enough Loop could radiate so much heat you would be burned by staying too close, but if you touched them, they would be freezing. A version of this can happen in "Sif-mode", where they get a lot hotter when they're upset. Basically an inverse of Siffrin's mental-freezing-feeling.

To everyone who's not part of the main party, Loop uses the name Anser, should they be asked for a name. It's taken them a long time to get used to it, and they still forget it sometimes, but it's getting easier to remember with everyone else using it in place of 'Loop' more and more as time goes on.

A bit of meta information, this name comes from the brightest star in the constellation Vulpecula ("little fox"), which used to be two animals for one constellation - a fox, and a goose - which was briefly split into two constellations, and then merged back into one, this time only named after the fox, but keeping the memory of the goose with that star's name.

I thought it sounded like a familiar sort of story, that perfectly aligned with everything else. and it's even from the fox constellation, like the universe preemptively told me to make them a fox, before i even knew it was a thing!!!!

So yeah anyway.

This is such a long post for me. lots of thoughts i have to get out there. Also very nervous about sharing this, but hey. you'll never know what people will say about something if you don't SHARE IT so i'm just going "fuck it we ball" at this point.

Sorry for not having much for some of the characters, i just. have a lot of things i need to say about Loop!.

I have a lot more thoughts about the world, post-game, and certain scenarios that i think would be fun, however this post is LOONG ENOUGH AS IT IIISSSSS and if i don't keep some of them to myself i will never get this posted so i will share them LATERRRR !!!!

Feel free to draw these designs if you want to, i would love to see them so much!!! Especially Loop!!!!!!!! And also if you have anything you want to ask me, or little ideas to add onto my headcanons, I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR THEM!!

Feel free to send them my way, and all your little questions will be answered!! I will likely not respond to things asked in reblogs to avoid this post from getting much longer, so it's best to put it in my askbox!!

[evenyvn]

Sick Day

Bsf!Jongho x Gn!Reader

Summary : in which you accidentally stood up your best friend because of cold.

Cw : gender neutral "you/yours" reader, sfw, fluff, best friend-to-lover (but the lover part isn't here yet), jongho is a tease, reader's size isn't mentioned but jongho can lift them up (he's strong af, it doesn't matter how big or how small you are, he can lift you up as easy as breaking those apples).

inspired by this zayne memories, it's one of my favorite 4* memories of zayne, writing this makes me miss playing L&DS now...

masterlist

You groaned as your eyes slowly opened, you feel your head pounding and body aching. A sneeze comes out from your nose, before feeling the congestion clogging your nose. Everything felt heavy, your limbs sluggish as you rolled over to grab your phone.

1:43 PM.

Your eyes widened in panic.

"Oh my god—Jongho!" you gasped, sitting up too quickly, making your head dizzy.

You were supposed to meet Jongho today. You both had planned this hangout a week ago, and now you had completely forgotten because of this stupid cold.

Before you could even process what to do, a loud knock echoed through your apartment making you flinch.

Dragging your aching body out of bed, you shuffled towards the front door of your apartment, feeling weak and feverish. As soon as you opened it you're greeted with Jongho, his arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"You finally answered, I've been standing here—knocking for the past 20 minutes," he said flatly.

You swallowed nervously. "Jongho, I—I’m so sorry. I—" You cut yourself off with a sniffle, eyes watering. The cold was making you more emotional than usual, and the sight of Jongho standing there, looking unimpressed, made you feel even worse.

Jongho’s stern expression wavered when he saw your bleary eyes, wet nose, and your hair was a mess—Clearly you just woken up—with a bad cold at that. He sigh as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

"You should've atleast texted me," he scolded, leading you back to your bedroom. "Do you think I wouldn’t be worried?"

"I—I forgot," You mumbled, sniffling again as Jongho tucked you into bed and sit on your bedside. "I didn’t mean to stood you up…"

Jongho exhaled through his nose. "I know," he muttered with a more soft voice this time, ruffling your messy hair gently before standing up. "That’s why I brought food. I figured something was wrong when you didn’t show up."

Your bleary eyes blinked at him. He ordered food before coming here? So he was never actually mad about being stood up—he was mad because he was worried.

You felt warm—not just from the fever but from Jongho’s actions.

"Just stay in bed, okay?" he said before turning towards the kitchen.

You hummed before sinking back into your bed, sighing softly. After a while of shifting, tossing and turning on the bed—and failed to fall back asleep, curiosity finally got the best of you and you dragged yourself to the kitchen, only to find Jongho rummaging through your cabinets.

"Where did you put your medicine box?" he asked, without even glancing over his shoulder.

"Oh, it’s just right above this cupboard—"

Before you could reach for it, Jongho stopped you with a firm hand on your wrist. "No, stop. I was just asking where it is."

You raised an eyebrow before huffing. "Jongho, it’s just a cold. I’m not disabled." You said slightly irked at him before trying to reach up again.

But before you can even touch the cabinet, Jongho simply lifted you up by your waist making you yelp and placed you on the counter behind him, as if you weighed nothing.

"Still stubborn as ever, even when you’re sick," he muttered, grabbing the medicine and setting it beside you on the counter.

Crossing your arms, you frowned. "I’m sick, and you’re not supposed to treat a sick person like this." You said as you watch jongho reached for a glass, the soft hum of the faucet filled the quiet kitchen as water streamed into the glass. He raised an eyebrow before turned on his heel.

As he walked back, placed the glass beside the medicine and stood between your legs, arms both beside your thighs on the counter—effectively caging you in.

"Oh yeah? Then how am I supposed to treat you?" he asked, voice dropping to a lower register.

You feel shiver run down your spine at the close proximity. "i don't know… maybe a little bit nicer... since I’m unwell," you stuttered, looking anywhere but at him.

Jongho smirked. He reached for your chin, tilting it face so your eyes met his. He leans closer until both of your foreheads touched and breaths mingling. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips before focusing back on your eyes, something unreadable in his expression.

"Is that what you want?" he murmured. "You want me to spoil you hm?"

Your brain short-circuited. Your throat dried up, and you couldn’t form words.

Satisfied with your reaction, Jongho finally pulled away, smirking. "Eat the food and take your medicine," he said nonchalantly, walking off.

It took you a moment to process what just happened before you yelled after him.

"Jongho, you jerk!"

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs, and comments are very appreciated ♡

[purplereina11]

You're a highly successful basketball player who has just been transferred to Barcelona's women's team. The number 11 holds deep personal significance for you. Among the spectators is none other than football superstar Alexia Putellas, synonymous with the number 11 in Barça history, watching from the sidelines.

What starts as mutual admiration quickly turns into something more, fuelled by weeks of playful yet intense online flirting. The chemistry between you and Alexia becomes undeniable.

It had been a couple of days since your last exchange with Alexia, and things had been…quiet. Too quiet. You weren’t sure what she was planning, but you knew it was coming. So, naturally, the one time you were out not thinking about her, the universe decided to play a cruel joke.

You were grabbing a drink with your sister in law, she got you out your apartment that was being over run by your family in town visiting and staying with you, your over bearing older sister wouldn’t shut up about Alexia and her disapproval of your online games. Lisa brought you out seeing your face before it blew up, she left her husband your brother Luke behind to talk Abby down. It wasn’t a date. Far from it. But the setting? Yeah, it definitely looked like one. A nice rooftop spot. Dim lighting. A corner table.

You were mid-laugh at something Lisa said when someone approached your table, stopping just beside you. "Uh, hi—sorry to interrupt."

You turned your head, looking at the woman standing there. She was watching you with something that looked a lot like amusement, but there was also a hint of nervousness in the way she shifted slightly on her feet.

"Do I—?" You started, trying to place her. It never even crossed your mind she could be a fan of yours but it all became clear pretty quickly.

She let out a small, slightly awkward laugh. "You don’t know who I am, do you?" You didn’t want to say no, but…yeah. Before you could answer, she sighed and quickly filled in the blanks herself.

"I’m Alba. Alexia’s sister."

Oh.

Oh.

Your sister in law beside you let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by the way your expression shifted. "Right," you said, recovering. "Alba. Nice to meet you."

She gave you a look like she wasn’t quite convinced, but she smiled anyway. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your date” You so did, you thought “—saw you and figured I should say hi." You opened your mouth to argue the date part, but she wasn’t done. "I just—uh, well—Alexia’s mentioned you. A lot." Your brows lifted slightly. Alba winced. "I probably shouldn’t have said that."

Lisa laughed. "No, no, please—go on."

Alba shook her head, you could already see the headlines forming in your mind.

Bumped into Alexia’s sister. Looked like a date. Great.

Before you could say anything, Alba leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "I’d be careful if I were you," she said, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Alexia’s been... determined lately."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Determined?"

Alba just smiled. "You’ll see."

And with that, she was gone, strolling back to her own table like she hadn’t just completely thrown you off.

Lisa turned to you, grinning. "She panicked so fast."

You exhaled, rubbing a hand down your face. "Yeah. But did you hear what she said?"

"That Alexia won’t shut up about you?"

You shot her a look. "Not the exact wording she used."

She just smirked. "Close enough."

You sat back in your chair, mulling over the interaction. Alba had been nervous, sure, but she’d also let something slip. And now, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Alexia’s mentioned you. A lot. You looked to her as she looked to you, you were wondering if and what she would tell Alexia.

Of course she would tell Alexia. You found your eyes back on her a short time later when her attention was on her phone her thumbs flying across the screen rather than her friends.

You didn’t expect to hear from Alexia so soon. But the second you checked your phone after getting to training an hour later, you saw her name.

Alexia: So… you had an interesting lunch today.

You exhaled, as you started typing.

You: Didn’t realise I was being monitored.

It only took a few seconds for her response to come through.

Alexia: Wasn’t hard to find out. People talk.

You could feel the tension in those words. She wasn’t being playful. She was jealous. A slow smirk pulled at your lips. Now this was interesting.

You: Let me guess. You think it was a date?

There was a pause.

Alexia: Was it?

You could practically see her expression. Arms crossed, jaw tight. You took your time before responding.

You: Would it bother you if it was?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Alexia: You’re avoiding the question.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

You: So are you.

A full minute passed.

Alexia: Come to my game this weekend.

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. She was switching tactics. Trying to regain control. But you weren’t going to make it that easy.

You: Not sure I’m free.

It was a lie. You definitely could be. Alexia, to her credit, didn’t take the bait.

Alexia: Try to be.

And just like that, the conversation ended. You stared at your screen for a moment, exhaling. So this was how she wanted to play it. Fine. You’d see how badly she really wanted you there.

You did show up. Of course, you did. Not because Alexia asked—no, that would’ve been too easy. You told yourself it was because you had nothing better to do. Because you liked watching football. Because it was just coincidence that your schedule suddenly cleared up. You didn’t go alone however. Your family was in town, and when they heard you were planning to watch a football match, they insisted on coming along. That was the reason you were here. Your parents weren’t huge football fans, but they liked seeing you actually take time off from basketball. Your siblings, on the other hand, were all too eager to witness what they called the most obvious situationship in sports history.

You ignored their teasing. Mostly. But as you sat in the stadium, surrounded by them, you realised this was a test. Alexia didn’t just have an audience tonight—she had your audience. And she knew it. From the second the match kicked off, she was electric. She moved across the pitch with purpose, barely breaking a sweat as she dictated the game. Every time she touched the ball, something happened. A perfectly timed pass, a feint that left her defender stumbling, a moment of pure class that had the crowd roaring. Your siblings were eating it up.

"Is she always this good?" one of them asked, leaning closer.

"No," you muttered, watching as Alexia casually flicked the ball over an opponent’s head and collected it like it was nothing.

"She’s better."

And then, it happened. She scored. A ridiculous, impossible goal. The kind of goal that only someone showing off would even attempt. The stadium erupted. But Alexia she didn’t celebrate. She turned. Searched the crowd. Found you. Your breath caught as she held your gaze, her expression unreadable—except for the slight smirk tugging at her lips. Then, something changed. Her eyes flickered slightly to your right. To the person sitting next to you. Your sister-in-law. The same woman Alba had told her you went on a date with. And that’s when you saw it. Not through a phone screen. Not hidden behind playful messages or carefully worded captions.

But real, unmistakable jealousy.

Alexia’s smirk vanished. Her brows twitched, her jaw tightened ever so slightly. You had never seen her lose composure before. Until now. She tore her eyes away and turned sharply, jogging back toward the centre circle with stiff shoulders and a sudden, almost aggressive determination. Your sibling nudged you, barely holding in their laugh. "Oh, she definitely clocked that." You just sat back, exhaling slowly. This game wasn’t over. Not even close.

It wasn’t Alexia who reached out first.

It was Alba.

The message popped up on your phone late that night, hours after the game.

Alba Putellas: I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but she’s not handling it well.

You stared at the screen, rereading the words a few times. Of all the people you expected to hear from, Alexia’s younger sister wasn’t on the list. Before you could even process a response, another message came through.

Alba Putellas: I’m assuming you already know she saw you at the game.

Yeah. You definitely knew. You had seen the jealousy on Alexia’s face firsthand. You debated ignoring the message—keeping whatever this was between you and Alexia. But then your phone buzzed again.

Alba Putellas: She’s still annoyed about it, by the way. Hours later. Which, for her, means something.

You smirked, leaning back against your couch. Interesting. Instead of messaging back, you decided to let Alba talk. And she did.

Alba Putellas: I mean, I knew she was into you before, but I’ve never seen her like this. Alba Putellas: You’ve got her acting out. And Alexia doesn’t act out.

That was exactly why this was so fun. Because Alexia had spent weeks playing it cool—flirting with you, teasing you, pushing boundaries—but now? Now she was off balance. And she hated it. After a few moments, you finally replied.

You: Did she send you to message me?

Alba Putellas: Nope. If she knew, she’d kill me.

That made you laugh. Then a final message came through.

Alba Putellas: Just don’t make her suffer too much. She’s stubborn, but she’s not as smooth as she pretends to be.

You tapped your fingers against your phone, considering your options. Alexia had been the one pulling the strings this whole time. Maybe it was time to pull a few of your own.

You left it longer than a day this time. There was nothing. No likes. No comments. No subtle jabs or cryptic captions. Just silence. And the fans definitely noticed. At first, it was just a few speculative comments under your old posts. Then came the tweets—screenshots of your profile, of Alexia’s, of the suddenly empty space where your usual interactions used to be.

Did they fall out? Why is it so quiet all of a sudden? We were literally watching them flirt in real-time—what happened?!

You ignored it. You wanted Alexia to feel the absence. To see what it was like when you weren’t constantly playing into her game. But the moment that really sent people spiralling? When you finally posted something. Not a response to Alexia. Not some cryptic, teasing message. Just a simple family photo. A picture from your family’s visit to Barcelona—your parents, your siblings, even your sister-in-law. 

Everyone smiling, arms draped around each other.

Liked by Alexia Putellas.

That was all it took. The fans exploded. Screenshots, tweets, theories—it was everywhere within minutes. And not long after that, your phone buzzed.

Alexia: Nice picture.

You stared at the message, waiting for more. For her to bring up the game. The jealousy. The fact that she’d spent the entire match playing like she had something to prove to you. But nothing. She was ignoring it completely. Your lips twitched. Classic. If Alexia wanted to pretend nothing had happened, fine. You could play that game too. But she was the one who had broken the silence first. And that meant, slowly but surely, the control was shifting.

You let Alexia’s message sit. No rush to reply. No double-texting. Just a silent acknowledgment that she had been the one to break first. And the longer you left it, the more you knew she’d be waiting. Because Alexia Putellas was not used to being ignored. The fans had already gone into a meltdown over her like on your post, but now? Now they were watching even closer. Every tweet, every Instagram story, every single move was under scrutiny. You were enjoying it.

Eventually, after a couple of hours, you texted back.

You: Thanks. Family’s been visiting.

Short. Simple. No flirting. No teasing. And then, for fun, you left your phone on silent and went about your day. When you checked back later?

Alexia: They had a good time? Alexia: Barcelona treat them well?

The corner of your mouth twitched. She wasn’t directly addressing the past few days, but she was trying. Still, you took your time replying. When you finally did:

You: Yeah, they loved it. You: Might have to make it a regular thing.

You didn’t say who they loved seeing. Didn’t say what had made the trip so enjoyable. But you knew Alexia would read between the lines. And, just as expected, she didn’t leave you on read for long.

Alexia: Good.

You chuckled at the short reply, shaking your head. She was holding back. You could tell. She wanted to say something more, but after days of silence, she wasn’t sure how to play this. For once, you had the control. And that was fun. So you left her on read. Just to see what she’d do next.

Alexia didn’t double-text. Not at first. She let hours pass—too many hours for someone as stubborn as her. But you knew better. You knew she wasn’t the type to sit back quietly. So when your phone finally buzzed again, you weren’t surprised.

Alexia: You’re quiet.

You smirked, stretching out on your couch as you read it. She was trying to be subtle. Trying to act like she wasn’t affected. But if she really didn’t care? She wouldn’t be texting at all. You let a few more minutes pass before responding.

You: Been busy.

Nothing more. No explanation. No opening for her to steer the conversation back into something comfortable. You were making her work for it now. And, after another long pause, she finally took the bait.

Alexia: Busy doing what?

Now that made you grin. You could practically hear the curiosity in her voice, even through text. And if she was asking, it meant she’d been thinking about it. Thinking about you. So you kept her waiting just a little longer before replying.

You: You seem interested.

The three little dots popped up almost immediately. Then disappeared. Then popped up again. She was debating her next move.

Alexia: Maybe I am.

It was bold. Blunt. A step forward after days of skirting around whatever had been building between you two. But you weren’t about to let her off that easy.

You: Oh? What changed?

Another pause. Another moment where she had to decide if she was really going to commit to this.

Alexia: Nothing changed. Alexia: I’ve been interested.

And that was the moment the game shifted again. Because now, Alexia wasn’t playing it cool anymore.

She was chasing.

You let Alexia’s message sit there for a moment, just staring at it. 

I’ve been interested.

Direct. No teasing. No dodging. She wasn’t playing anymore. And, honestly? That made it more fun. Still, you weren’t about to let her off too easy.

You: Took you long enough to admit it.

The read receipt popped up instantly.

Alexia: You didn’t make it easy.

You chuckled, shaking your head.

You: Wasn’t my job to make it easy for you.

This time, her response came faster.

Alexia: No?

You: No.

Alexia: Then what is your job?

You tilted your head, considering her question. The easy answer? To mess with her. To push and pull until she finally cracked. But now, Alexia was actually trying. So maybe it was time to see just how far she was willing to go.

You: Is that why you were jealous of my sister-in-law?

Read at 11:42 PM.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Then disappeared.

Then reappeared.

And stayed there.

You leaned back, waiting. Because this was the moment of truth. She could deny it. Act like she hadn’t been glaring daggers across the stadium. Pretend she wasn’t sulking when she saw you sitting next to the woman Alba had wrongly assumed was your date.

Alexia: I wasn’t jealous.

You snorted.

You: Lying doesn’t suit you, Putellas.

Another pause. Longer this time.

Alexia: Maybe I was.

You grinned.

You: Figured.

Alexia: Shut up.

You: Make me.

The read receipt lingered for a full minute before she answered.

Alexia: Careful what you wish for.

And just like that, the game was really on. Alexia’s last message lingered on your screen.

Careful what you wish for.

A challenge. A warning. A promise. And yet, she still hadn’t made her move. So you let her sit with it. Let her wonder if you’d push back. Eventually, though, your patience ran thin. You replied the next morning sat in your cubicle ready for training to start.

You: Big words. You gonna back them up?

Read at 9:07 AM.

Nothing.

You smirked. She was thinking. Good. A few minutes passed before your phone finally buzzed.

Alexia: Where are you right now?

You raised an eyebrow.

You: Why? You gonna come prove your point?

Alexia: Maybe.

Now that caught your attention. Because this wasn’t just teasing anymore. She was actually considering it. You knew it. She knew it. And when you didn’t answer right away, she pressed again.

Alexia: Don’t go quiet now.

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head.

You: I’m at training.

You half-expected that to end the conversation. That the moment she was faced with reality, she’d back off.

Instead—

Alexia: Lucky for you, I’m only over the road.

Your breath hitched. She wasn’t backing off. She was doubling down.

And you had two options:

Keep playing the game.

Or let it finally tip over the edge.

So you leaned into it.

You: Good. Hope you play as hard as you talk.

She didn’t leave you on read this time.

Alexia: Guess you’ll find out.

And just like that, the waiting game was over.

[ovulatingonna]

IN THE PARTY, juju watkins.

cw: sexual content, fuckboy!juju, fem!reader, degradation, fingering, strap usage.

summary. Il A heated moment between exes turns into something neither of them can resist, as unresolved tension and lingering desire come to a head.

yonna's note | this is just them fucking not making love, so don't ask me about no damn after care. mkay??

The party was packed, the bass shaking the walls, and you? You were the center of it all. Every step you took turned heads, and you loved it. The dress you wore hugged you perfectly, barely covering what it needed to, and the way your hips moved? Yeah, people were definitely watching.

You’d lost count of how many drinks had been bought for you. Every time you laughed or tossed your hair, someone was quick to hand you another one. Not that you minded.

But then you felt it. That stare.

You didn’t even have to turn around to know it was Juju. She always had a way of making her presence known, even without saying a word. And right now? She was pissed.

Good.

She stood across the room, leaning against the wall with that same unreadable look she always had. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes locked on you like she was daring you to keep going. You could practically feel the tension from where you were standing.

And what did you do? You began testing the waters.

Hands on your knees, ass damn near falling out the dress. The crowd around you was eating it up, which irritated her more. Some random guy leaned in close, whispering something in your ear that you didn’t even bother to register. You were too busy making sure Juju saw every second of it.

It didn’t take long.

Before you knew it, a strong hand grabbed your wrist. The second you turned, you were met with those familiar dark eyes.

“Let’s go,” Juju said, her voice low.

You blinked, trying to act like you weren’t completely thrilled by how mad she was. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She didn’t wait for a response. With a firm grip, she dragged you through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares and hushed whispers. The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, but it did nothing to calm the heat between you two.

Juju didn’t stop until you were at her car. She pushed you against the door, her hands planted on either side of you. Her eyes burned into yours, frustration and something else swirling beneath the surface.

“You think that was cute?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was enough to send shivers down your spine.

You tilted your head, biting back a grin. “Maybe.”

That was all it took.

Without another word, Juju’s lips crashed against yours, and let’s just say you weren’t thinking about that party anymore.

-

You’re in the passenger seat, arms crossed, legs bouncing. Juju’s gripping the wheel like it did something to her. She hasn’t said a word since she dragged you out of that party, but the tension? Yeah, it’s loud as hell.

You bite your lip, sneaking a glance at her. She’s mad. Jaw tight, eyes straight ahead. But even through the anger, she’s fine as hell. And that? That’s a problem.

The car jerks a little as she parks in front of your place. Before you can say anything, she cuts the engine and turns to you, eyes burning.

“Get out.”

Her voice is low, steady. You know better than to argue. The second you’re through the door of your apartment, it slams behind you. You barely make it two steps before she’s on you — hands on your waist, lips crashing into yours like she couldn’t stand another second without it.

Your back hits the wall, and you gasp, but Juju doesn’t care. She’s pissed. And from the way she’s gripping you, she’s about to make sure you feel every bit of it.

“You really thought you could act like that and get away with it?” Her voice is low, but the look in her eyes? Yeah, you’re in trouble. All you could do was let out a faint hum.

"Fuck, you're still so responsive to me," Juju mutters, her hand sliding down to your pussy. You're already wet, your body eager for her touch. She slips a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out slowly. You moan, your head falling forward as she hits that spot deep inside you. "That's it, take my fingers like a good girl," Juju coos, her voice dripping with lust and degradation. You push back against her hand, your body chasing more of her touch.

Juju pulls her fingers out, and you hear the sound of her spitting, then her fingers are back, slick and sliding in and out of you easily. She leans down, her breath hot on your ear. "You like that, don't you? You like being my little fuck toy," she whispers, and you can't help but nod, your body on fire with need.

Juju pulls away, and you hear the sound of her rummaging through her bag. When she comes back, she's holding her strap-on, the one you used to love so much. She rubs the tip against your ass, then slides it down to your pussy, pushing it inside you slowly.

"Fuck, yes baby." You moan, your body stretching to accommodate her. Juju starts to move, her hips thrusting against yours, the strap-on filling you completely.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Juju groans, her hands gripping your hips tightly. She starts to move faster, her thrusts harder. You can feel the orgasm building, your body coiling tighter and tighter. Juju reaches around, her fingers finding your clit. She rubs it in time with her thrusts, and you're done for. You come hard, your body convulsing around her, your moans filling the room.

Juju doesn't stop, her hips continuing to move, drawing out your orgasm. She leans down, her teeth sinking into your shoulder. You cry out, the pain mixing with the pleasure, sending you over the edge again. Juju groans, her body tensing as she comes, her thrusts becoming erratic.

She pulls out, and you collapse onto the couch, your body spent. Juju falls down beside you, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She turns to you, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Next time, think before you act up," she says, her voice soft but firm. You nod, too exhausted to respond. Juju stands up, adjusting her clothes. "I'll see myself out," she says, and then she's gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering sensation of her touch.

You lay there for a moment, your body still humming with pleasure. You know you should be mad, should push her away, but you can't help the way your body responds to her, the way your heart still flutters at the sight of her. You sigh, standing up and making your way to the shower. You have a lot to think about, but for now, you just want to wash away the scent of Juju, the memory of her touch. But you know it's futile. Juju Watkins is a part of you, whether you like it or not. And tonight was just a reminder of that.

[numbersandstars]

The Solar Nakshatras

Apart from the usual nakshatras related to the Sun, such as Krittika, Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Ashadha, as well as those who sit in Leo sign such as Magha and the Phalgunis, we find 5 other nakshatras. We can even include Bharani to some extent, as Yama, the ruler is the son of Surya the Sun. These five nakshatras are: ☀️Ashvini, Punarvasu, Hasta, Anuradha, Revati ☀️ Why is that? Because in the Brihat Parashara Hora Shastra there is a list of Sun's different names and these names relate to these nakshatras, amongst many other things.

☀️Ashvini: the physicians of the demigods, the Ashwins Kumars who rule this nakshatra are the Sun's offspring (twins). But one of the Sun's name is "hamsa", the swan. Ashvini's bird is the swan. The swan is not only highly intelligent, but its whiteness represents the purity of the soul. Additionally, the white swan has its dark counterpart, the black swan. This dark twin stands for improbable events that have massive, unexpected impacts. But you also find the "ugly duckling" who contradict light and beauty. When there is light, there is shadow: life is based upon duality. 🐴Natives can be highly intelligent but they may also be misunderstood. They can have difficulties integrating themselves. They can have a twin, such as a twin or a very close friend.

☀️Punarvasu: Aditi, the mother of many demigods named "adityas", rules this nakshatra. She embodies infinity, the limitless space and sky. The Sun is also called "aditya", or "son of Aditi". The Sun possesses these characteristics of boundlessness and helps to achieve the best in everything. Interestingly enough, the swan is also Punarvasu's bird. 🏹Natives often travel far away but they come back. They endlessly move. They refine their skills and prove to be innovative. Like the Ashvini natives, they can have a twin, or a very close friend.

☀️Hasta: Savita is the ruler of Hasta. It could not be clearer: Savita is the Sun's first rays. Hence one of his names is Savita. It means "the vivifier": the sun's first rays energizes everything they touch. Life awakens, a new birth is on its way. 🙌Everything the natives touch turns into gold. Whether it be a broken object they fix, or a miserable object they easily sell at a high price, natives vivify their environment.

☀️Anuradha: Anuradha's deity is the famous Mitra. Mitra is a son of Aditi, hence an aditya. But Mitra is also one of the Sun's names. Mitra means "friend". He is a friend to all. All of those who know themselves and accept themselves as they are are friends with themselves and thus, friends with everyone else. The Sun gives self-esteem and enlightens us so we can become our best friends and everyone's best friends. 🌸Anuradha natives are usually the most loyal friends ever. They are able to dive deep into themselves to know themselves better, hence they can become friends to all.

☀️Revati: Pushan rules Revati. He is known to be the nurturer, the cattle's guide. Pushan nurtures and supports greatly. The Sun is also called "Pushan". Pushan means "the purifier". Purification is essential for a proper nourishment. Sunlight purifies, removes the bad germs, so life emerges and sustains. Sunlight also helps in seeing more clearly, hence finding back lost objects and animals, which are Pushan's other characteristics. 🐠Natives usually watch their diet carefully. They like the seaside, which is an excellent purifying place. They may easily find lost objects and animals.