#than ever in the places they used to all be with each other

[mattscoquette]

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑷 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑫𝒀𝑰𝑵𝑮 | 𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑶𝑳𝑶

��𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒐 𝒀𝑨𝑳𝑬

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉.. you have another study session with chris and he suggests a way to really help him remember

smut, oral (male receiving), swearing, stripping, kinda sub!chris, use of y/n, frat boy!chris, college au

2.9k words

chris’ eyebrows furrowed as he peered down at the textbook in front of him, trying his hardest to try to absorb what he was actually reading. you smiled softly at his actions, finding it almost endearing how hard he was trying. it was only basic american history, but to chris it might as well have been written in latin.

“okay,” you spoke softly, watching as his gaze met yours, “tell me what you read.”

chris closed his eyes and exhaled, as if to mentally prepare himself to recite the text he just read. you had been trying a new method of studying with chris, deeming it nearly foolproof. well, for you, but any study method for you was easy. you would have chris read a chapter section by section, then try to reiterate everything he read out loud and teach it to you. “well,” he began, his expression puzzled as he thought, “the pilgrims came from england because they wanted land.” you smiled, watching as he continued to speak. “and, uh.. they wanted religious freedom too.”

“yeah,” you grinned, nodding your head, “what else?”

his face dropped, looking at you like you were just speaking a foreign language. “what do you mean what else?”

“i mean,” you giggled, “why else did they come here? where did they land, what were the colonies like, there’s more to it. you need to remember details.”

chris groaned loudly, burying his head in his crossed arms as he flopped his head down on his desk. he peaked up at you, his brown curls that were tucked into his backwards hat falling loose over his eyes.

you knew he’d been working hard, getting his grades up high enough to keep him on the lacrosse team. however once they were where they needed to be, they had to stay there. much to your delight, you had been tutoring (and fucking) chris for longer than anticipated. you’d figured that you would have just been another number added to his body count after the frat party, but chris was very adamant on wanting to see you again. and being his tutor three days a week made it so much easier. you both decided studying at each other’s dorms would be a more sufficing place to study, finding the privacy much more convenient than the library.

“y/n this is so hard,” he complained, his voice whiny as he looked up at you, “i can’t remember anything.”

you pouted slightly, sympathizing for him as you ran your fingers across his shoulders in attempts to help him relax. he sighed, eyes meeting yours as he looked up at you. “you’re doing really well,” you told him quietly as you scratched his back, “your average went up a whole letter grade in a month while you have been playing lacrosse. that’s not easy.”

“i’m gonna fail my test next week if i can’t remember this shit.” he mumbled into his crossed arms as he sighed.

you hummed, continuing to trace your nails along his back over his sweatshirt. “let’s take a break, hm? your brain is probably fried right now.”

chris tilted his head back against the chair, leaning down and sprawling his legs out underneath the desk, his arms crossing over into his face. “everything i try doesn’t work.” he grumbled.

you halt your movements on his back, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

“every method of studying you’ve taught me. nothing works. flash cards, blurting, re writing notes. it won’t stay in my brain, like, at all.” chris says, looking over at you. “you look confused.”

“i am,” you murmur, “but you’ve passed your tests. you got Bs and even a few As. what do you mean it isn’t working?”

chris buries his face in his hands on his desk, trying his best to explain it. in the last month, he was convinced it’s been the hardest he ever had to work in school, and it seemed to have been getting the best of him. “it’s like, i learn this shit, but not all of it stays in my brain. i’m only, like, 70% sure of the answers i put on tests and whatever. i need to remember.”

you look at him, drawing your hand back into your lap and crossing them together. you look down at your lap blink, trying to think of a new method of studying. everything you tried had worked for you, how hard can it be for chris to learn? sure, he is nowhere near your academic level, but studying a skill you can learn, the same way you can learn how to play lacrosse.

“well,” you begin slowly, “are there any … ideas you may have? maybe some sort of association we can work on-”

chris perks up at this. “association?”

you blink again, nodding slowly. “yeah, like … maybe we can try and relate something to what you’ve just read, and then that association will help you remember?”

you’ve never tried this method before. hell, you never even have thought about it before, you were just trying to put yourself in chris’ shoes and rack your brain on how you can get him to remember.

he’s smirking now. it’s working.

“i have an idea,” he nearly purrs, leaning in closer towards you, “you strip for me.”

your eyes are wide as you look at chris. “strip?” you sputter, “like, like how?”

now he’s got a cheshire cat grin smile plastered on his face. he nods, eyeing you up and down. “come on, y/n/n, it’ll be fun,” he coaxes, “i’ll remember all this shit so clearly if i associate it with seeing you in just your panties.”

you smirk softly, your eyes flickering between his lips and bright blue eyes. “fine,” you say, “but you better get an A on this test or we’re back to flashcards.”

he smiles wide and leans in to peck your lips, pulling away to return to his abandoned open textbook, finding where he had left off. “okay, so,” he grinned, turning to look at you, “how are we doing this?”

now it’s your turn to smile. “i think a reward system will do - for every correct answer to a question i give, i’ll take a piece of my clothes off. deal?”

chris swallows hard, his eyes wide as he nods. he isn’t used to you being the one calling the shots, and he can already feel his dick twitching at the thought. “y-yeah. that’s cool, that’s cool.”

you smile as you watch the brunette not-so-subtly re-adjust his shorts and return to his book, looking even more engaged than before. this time, he actually studies the text, taking in as much information as his brain will hold. before he even realizes, forty five minutes have gone by, and he’s finished the chapter.

he looks up, turning to you, closing the book. “okay, i’m ready. hit me.”

a grin creeps across your face, sitting up straight as you turn to face chris. “tell me about jamestown.”

chris inhales, closing his eyes as he recalls the paragraphs upon paragraphs he just read. “it was the first colony.”

you smile, nodding for him to continue.

“it was in virginia. john smith, like, ran it. he taught all the settlers how to farm and shit so the colony would survive.” he says, looking to you for reassurance almost, and exhales happily when he sees you smiling and nodding.

“good job,” you say in a sultry voice, your hands crossed across your chest, toying with the ends of your shirt, “tell me more about the early colonies.”

chris’ eyes go wide as he watches you tease him, his erection growing more and more as he tries to focus.

“there was a fuck ton in new england. plymouth was the big one, that was here in mass. they came on the mayflower and wanted to be separated from the church. so, uh, they became puritans.”

you can’t help but smile. you feel like a proud parent watching their kid walk for the first time. you life your shirt over your head, revealing your laced bra, leaving very little to chris’ imagination. he swallows hard, eyes raking over you and your body, his dick fully hard now and poking up against his sweat shorts.

“my eyes are up here chris,” you smile slyly, leaning forward to tilt his chin back up to you. “tell me about the puritans.”

chris swallows hard, slowly bringing his eye back up to you, breathing heavily. you could tell this was really getting to him, watching as he tried to think of something other than your tits. “they didn’t want to be a part of the church of england anymore. they wanted to, like, purify it or whatever.”

“or whatever?” you smirked, cocking your head to the side, “i don’t think ‘or whatever’ will pass you on a test.”

he just stares at you blankly, sitting there topless at his desk, before processing what you had just told him. he shakes his head, trying to focus. “yeah, um, they didn’t agree with the church of england. they thought it was too catholic, and they wanted to make their own practice.”

you grinned nodding your head. “good job.” you tell him seductively, standing up slowly as you maintain eye contact. your hands reach around to the back of your pleated skirt, unzipping it and letting it pool around your ankles. you reveal your lace and frilly panties that match your bra, chris’ eyes going wide. you sit back down, only this time on his lap, his clothed dick pressed against you.

you smile at him, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “you remembering okay?”

his face has no color as he nods, his throat going dry. “yeah,” he stammers, “keep ‘em coming.”

you dip your head down, leaving feather-like kisses up his neck, stopping when you get to his ear, biting the lobe softly before speaking quietly again. “one more question, then i’m all yours, think you can do it?”

chris shudders against you, nodding his head as you press a few more kisses to his neck, pulling away as you look down at him. “what was the mayflower compact?”

he closes his eyes, his mind buzzing with the thought of you as it goes blank. he tries, he really does, to remember what the hell you just asked him. but the only thing swirling around his head right now was you sitting in his lap half naked. he looks up at you, shaking his head. “i can’t remember.” he says softly.

“no?” you pout teasingly, beginning to climb off his lap, “guess i need to put something back on.”

“wait,” he replies, a little too quickly, pulling you back on to his lap by your hips, “i know it, lemme think.”

you grin, watching his eyes screw shut again, racking his brain on what it possibly could be. “that … that was the contract, right? that all the settlers signed when they got to plymouth?”

“are you asking me or telling me?” you grin, running your hand down his chest, playing with the strings of his hoodie as you leaned in close.

“telling you.” he whispered, eyes flicking from your own down to your lips. he leans in, about to press his mouth to yours when you pull away.

“what was the significance of it?”

“fuck i don’t know,” chris whines, furrowing his brows while he looks up at you, “it was to make laws, all the settlers signed it to agree to be civil.”

you giggled, finally giving in and pressing your lips to chris’ and sighing softly. he was quick to try and deepen the kiss, having grown so needy from the thirty minutes of teasing you’d just put him through. chris’ hands roamed across your hips and ass, squeezing the flesh roughly. you decided to let chris take control as you opened your mouth slightly, letting him explore its insides as his tongue swirled around yours.

you moaned into his mouth, arms wrapped around his neck while you pressed your chest against chris’ and leaned back slightly. you could tell he was desperate from the way he was grinding your hips against his, and began to trail kisses down his neck. you sucked and licked at the skin, leaving small dark love bites in your wake. chris made no attempts to conceal his noises, soft moans and whines escaping his lips as your lips made their round across his neck, your hips sure to have bruises where his fingers dug into you.

“tell me what you want.” you sighed into his ear, slowly grinding your hips down against his clothed erection. you kissed and nipped at the spot behind chris’ ear, earning a quiet moan.

“your mouth, ma, need you to suck me.” chris whispered, tilting his head to its side to give you better access to his neck. you pulled away with a grin plastered across your lips, eyes flicking up and down his face.

“you want my mouth?” you repeated in a teasing tone, leaning in to hover your lips above chris’. “you think you worked hard enough today to deserve it?”

he nodded frantically, damn near ready to beg you if he had to. “please baby, i wanna feel your pretty lips around me.”

between his dick rutting against your heat and the noises he was making, you were already soaked. but, right now was about chris, and giving him his reward. you began to slowly slide off of his lap and onto the ground, perched on your knees in front of chris. you looked up at him with wide eyes, not looking away as you teasingly ran your hands up his thighs. he was a whining mess, eager for you. your fingers played with the waistband of his shorts, steadily pulling them down his legs and pooling them around his ankles.

chris was practically rock hard at this point, feeling like he could cum from the slightest of touches from you. he sighed shakily as he felt your nails delicately trace his bulge over his navy boxers, murmuring to him softly.

“you’ve been working so hard lately,” you spoke in a whispered tone, “you want me to help relieve from stress, hm?”

“mhm, yeah.” chris groaned, his head thrown back as his hands came up to cup your face, thumbs tracing your jawline. you tilted your head slightly, leaving a few pecks to chris’ hands before turning your attention back to his dick. you sighed gently, leaning in to press open mouth kisses to chris’ cock, tongue occasionally darting out across the fabric.

you pulled back, flicking your eyes back up to his and you flashed him a sly smile. your fingers dipping below the band of his boxers and finally pulled them down. chris’ dick instantly sprung up against his abdomen, his tip red and leaking, aching for your touch.

a small moan escaped your lips as you took his cock in your hand, thumb running across the slit as you smeared precum all along his shaft. you leaned down, placing a small and quick kiss to his tip as you sighed, “god chris you’re so big.”

a strangled groan ripped from chris’ throat as he peered down at you with hooded eyes and parted lips, awaiting your next move. you licked a long stripe up the length of his dick while your gaze was locked with his, maintaining eye contact as you took him in your mouth.

chris’ hands were instantly threaded through your hair, holding your head as you sucked on his dick, tongue swirling around the tip. you began to bob your head on his shaft, deep throating as best you could and jerking what you couldn’t fit. his head was tossed back in pleasure, his chest heaving while he guided you up and down his length.

“mm, come on mama, you can take it all, breath through your nose.” chris moaned, wrapping your hair in a ponytail as he fucked your face, his dick repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. tears pricked your eyes as you inhaled deeply, your nose nearly pressing against chris’ stomach. your tongue repeatedly twisted and licked around chris' cock while you continued to suck, the motions of your mouth nearing chris to his orgasm.

chris gutted a choked moan, his voice cracking. “thaaat’s it, pretty girl, gettin’ me so close.”

you let out a soft sigh around him, sending vibrations through chris’ body. that was enough to send chris over the edge, a low grown coming from his chest as hot, white spurts of cum shot down your throat. you pulled off of his cock with a small pop, your lips wet as you stuck your tongue out to show him you had swallowed it all.

his hands loosened from around your hair to grip your chin, leaning down and pulling your face close to his. he pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply as he tasted himself on your tongue. he pulled away slowly, a faint smile playing on his lips and he looked at you. “thank you.”

“don’t mention it,” you giggled, kissing his cheek quickly, “now, how do you think you’ll do on the test next week?”

“what test?”

© mattscoquette

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ i am sooooooo happy with how this came out fr !! i started writing this in august i think ?? i truly love this “series” sm i think i might make fratboy!chris an au ….. but anyway thank u guys sm for all the love and being so patient with this !! sry if i tagged anyone on the taglist twice i don’t expect to have so many people on it but thank u SO MUCH !!!!! ik ive been talking ab making a part two to yale for so long now im happy its done :) i hope u all enjoyed <3

[p0orbaby]

Leah/reader have been going through a sex drought so reader decides to surprise leah one evening with a strip tease. Make it SaUcY plz x

-

The plan has been percolating in your head for days. Weeks, if you’re honest with yourself. The outfit agonised over for days: all silk and black lace that toes the line between sultry and “I’m absolutely trying too hard.” You’ve taken into account lighting (low, warm, flattering) and ambiance (candles, but not so many it screams séance). This is high-level strategy, not a whim.

The drought has been bad. Biblical, almost. You’re starting to feel like one of those tortured protagonists in an indie film about suburbia. “Are we okay?” hangs between you and Leah like stale air. You’re fine—better than fine—but busy schedules and post-match fatigue have made the bed a glorified charging station for your phones rather than a place of… connection.

The sound of Leah’s keys jingling in the lock sends a ripple of nerves through you. You check your reflection in the mirror one last time—lingerie clinging to you in all the right places, lipstick sharp enough to cut glass. The kind of confidence that’s half real, half bravado.

“In the living room,” you reply, pitching your voice just shy of nonchalant.

The door opens, and Leah steps in, looking as gorgeous and knackered as ever. Her hair’s tied up in a loose bun, and her kit bag is slung over one shoulder. She smells faintly of fresh grass and whatever industrial-strength shower gel Arsenal uses.

“Hey,” she says. Her eyes land on you, and she pauses mid-step. “What’s all this?”

You cross the room slowly, hips swaying with more intent than usual. “I thought I’d treat you tonight”

Her bag drops to the floor with a dull thud. “Something special,” she repeats, her accent curling around the words like a tease of its own. “And what exactly does that mean?”

You press a button on your phone, and the opening notes of the song fill the room. Leah freezes as the implication hits her like a perfectly struck free kick. Her jaw tenses, her cheeks flush, and you know you’ve got her.

Her voice is shaky but attempting nonchalance. “Are you…? Are you about to—?”

You step closer, tugging the robe’s belt loose. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be”

She exhales sharply, her hands coming up in mock surrender. “Nope. Absolutely nowhere”

The next few minutes are equal parts electrifying and ludicrous. You sway your hips to the beat, sliding your robe off completely before stepping closer to her. Leah sits frozen on the edge of the sofa, hands gripping her knees like she’s trying not to combust. Her eyes flicker between your face and… everywhere else, wide and slightly panicked.

“You’re… really good at this,” she stammers, which makes you laugh mid-spin. “Like, way better than I expected”

“Expected?” You pause, raising an eyebrow as you slide a strap off your shoulder. “What were you expecting?”

She shakes her head rapidly, clearly realising she’s said the wrong thing. “No, I mean—it’s just—oh, God.” She runs a hand through her hair, flustered. “You’re killing me right now”

You step closer, close enough that her knees brush against yours. Her breathing has gone shallow, her lips parted slightly. “Killing you, huh?” you murmur, letting your fingers trail along the line of her jaw.

“I’m actually dead,” she whispers. “Gone. Buried”

You smirk, shifting to straddle her lap, and her hands hover awkwardly at your waist like she’s scared she’ll ruin the moment if she moves too soon. Her eyes search yours, and for a moment, the teasing drops away. There’s just her, and you, and the ridiculous, overwhelming love you have for each other.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know,” you say softly, your lips inches from hers.

And that’s all it takes. Her hands find your hips, her grip firm but reverent, and she pulls you closer like she’s been waiting her whole life to do it. The playlist fades into the background as she kisses you—slow at first, then deeper, needier, like she’s making up for lost time.

The drought is over.

[yinemw]

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

context: this is the part two to this post, in which Toji is ready to take the next step 🥰 (female reader)

warnings: swearing

characters: Toji Fushiguro from JJK

m.list

“Got your lunchbox?”

“Mhm” Megumi nods as he looks through his school bag, hands digging through the books to see his blue lunchbox at the bottom of the bag.

“Got your water bottle?”

“Mhm” he hums yet again when he spots the water bottle filled with his favorite juice.

“Got your school project?” You ask lastly, knowing the school project you and Toji had been helping him with was still in his room.

Not finding it, Megumi quickly runs up to his bedroom to retrieve the project, almost tripping on his way up the stairs. “I got it!” He says on his way down, stuffing it in his bag.

“Come on brat, bus is leaving soon” Toji yawns, grabbing the cup of coffee you had made for him and opening the front door. “Bus ain’t gonna wait for ya if you’re not there” he repeats impatiently, urging his son out the door before sitting down on the porch. Instinctively wrapping his arm around your waist as you sit down beside him, watching Megumi run to the side walk, the two dogs following right after him, walking him to the bus stop. This was the usual morning routine for your family.

“You forgot to give him his jacket Toji! It’s going to be windy today” you sigh when noticing Megumi walk into the distance, only wearing a t-shirt. Turning to the boys father, Toji only shrugged as yet another yawn left his lips. Black hair all tousled and clothes wrinkled as he had gotten out of bed only a few minutes ago.

“Relax, will ya! This will teach him to remember his own jacket”

You glare at him, letting out a groan at his smirk as he rubbed his head into your shoulder playfully. “I packed his food and made sure he had his project with him, one thing Toji, you had only one thing to make sure he had with him”

“Relax baby, we got the day for ourselves now, not to mention the night too” he tries to sweet talk you, placing sweet kisses along your collarbone and neck. “Since the brat is going to sleep over at that kid Itadori’s place, no one will disturb us the whole weekend—”

The two dogs come running back, wagging their tails as they rub their noses against your knees. Wanting pets and cuddles as usual, whenever Megumi was at school they relied on you for the attention, often stealing you away from Toji.

“Should have never gotten these dogs for the kid” Toji groans, slowly pushing the white dog away from you, but it didn’t seem to help.

“You’re moodier then usual” the two of you go back inside, the dogs going to their dog beds and entertaining each other. “Something happen at work?”

Toji doesn’t answer immediately, not sure what to tell you. He needed today to go perfectly, better than any other day had ever gone. He’d planned everything weeks before, found the perfect location where the sunset was prettiest, asked Itadori’s older brother if Megumi could stay for the weekend, bought all your favorite snacks and sweets, made sure he found your favorite champagne and roses, and most importantly, made sure he picked out the perfect ring.

Ring, right, the ring. Wait, where did he put the ring again—

“Toji? You okay there?”

“Hah?” He turns around, looking at your slightly worried face. But he couldn’t focus on that right now, still trying to figure out where he had put the ring box. “Hold on, I’ll be right back” he rushes up the stairs, and you hear an assortment of things being thrown around and cupboards being opened and closed.

Curious, you follow after him, finding your boyfriend in Megumi’s room, rummaging through his closet. “Toji what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He shouts rather loudly, turning around immediately after having stuffed the ring box in his boxers. Wait…in his boxers? Toji mentally slaps himself for wearing his grey sweatpants so often. If he placed it in his pocket you would see the outline immediately and ask him about it. But in his boxers, it would blend in with, well, another type of package.

“You know what, I don’t even want to know, just let me know when you’re done having your psychotic episode” you turn around, walking back down to the living room. No clue what has gotten into the older man, and not really caring either, it was Toji after all.

After securing a safer place for the ring box, Toji follows quickly after you. “Uh what are you doing, I made reservations for lunch and the place is a 3 hour ride away”

You sigh, opening up your laptop, “remind me again why we’re going to this fancy place to have lunch, you’re usually fine just eating some cheap ramen”

He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, tapping his foot on the floor like an old grandpa. “Because I want to, we need to start driving in an hour woman, so you better be ready for then- hello? Are you even listening?”

“I’m paying the bills you old man!” You reply, eyes not leaving the laptop screen. “Ever since you decided it was a good idea to make your nanny into your girlfriend, I suddenly had a lot more responsibilities then just taking care of Megumi, so, now I pay the bills each month. To be honest Toji, I feel like just staying in today, do we have to go to this fancy place?”

“Yes.”

And that you did. After a 3 hour drive, some road rage from Toji and a struggle to find parking, the two of you arrive at the restaurant for lunchtime.

“What?!” Toji asks, a bit too loud for the fancy place, after the host informed him that your table had been given to a couple who arrived on time. “We arrived 30 minutes late! Not my fault the road here was fucking shitty—” your hands wrap around his bicep, pulling him aside slightly. Looking down at your delicate features and reassuring smile reminded him why he had made the reservations in the first place. This day is supposed to be special, and he was ruining it

After apologizing to the host (which took a lot of convincing from you), Toji was on the hunt for nearby restaurants to make up for your lost reservations. Scrolling through his phone as you leaned against the car, looking towards the beach that looked so inviting. Waves crashing towards the sand, a group of friends playing volleyball, a golden retriever playing fetch with his owner. “Toji, forget food, let’s go take a walk on the beach, we can dip our feet into the water too. It looks so nice, don’t you think?”

No response from the older man. You had never seen him this focused and stressed before, not even for his job or the time Megumi had come home with a high fever. He took things as they came, always more laid back than you. Today it seems like the roles are reversed. You couldn’t help but watch with a frown as Toji starts to bite his nails.

“What the fuck, all the fancy places are booked” he groans after hanging up the phone for the third time. Loosening the tie around his neck, it was one of the first times you’d seen him wear a suit. You always thought it would be for something special, for one of his work dinners maybe, not on a random Friday afternoon, standing in a parking lot as he desperately tries to find a place to eat.

“That one seems fine”

Toji follows the direction of your finger, hopeful first, yet his frown only deepens. “That’s a fast food place, I think we’re overdressed” he scoffed annoyed, looking over his shoulder and inside the car where he had hidden a bag of snacks and chocolates for you in the backseat. He had planned to give them to you after proposing, but now it seemed like an emergency snack instead…

“Well we had a long car ride and we’ve been standing out here in the sun whilst you’ve been calling all around, you can’t blame me for wanting some chicken nuggets and a milkshake right now”

Toji had to remind himself that today was about you. What made you happy, what made you smile, what would make you say yes. So he took you to the fast food restaurant, buying takeaway and walking hand in hand with you down to the beach. Seeing the smile on your face as you sit down in the sand and take a bite from your food.

“Good?” Toji asks, already knowing the answer. Recognizing the sparkle in your eyes whenever you ate delicious food. He couldn’t lie, the burger he was eating was probably ten times better than the small portions of food they would have served at the restaurant.

After the meal, you drag Toji towards the water. If he wanted to, he could easily pull you right back towards him, throw you over his shoulder and walk back to the dry sand where the waves couldn’t reach. But he didn’t, because yet again this was something that made you happy. “Not too far brat, this suit was expensive, don’t want the water to dirty it”

You roll your eyes, not caring of soaking your clothes as you lift your leg and splash him. The water up to your knees now as you burst out laughing at Toji’s grumpy, and now wet, face.

“You’re gonna regret that” he said calmly. But you know what they say, it’s always the calm before the storm. The next hour consisted of you and Toji splashing and pushing each other in the water. All in fun, even Toji laughed freely, feeling the muscles in his cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling and laughing.

“You are an insane man, should have had Megumi here, he would have protected me” you giggle softly as the two of you walk out of the water. Clothes drenched, hair dripping and the taste of salt lingering on your tongue. “Excuse me, this is not okay” you point to his shirt, the white fabric now seethrough and sticking to his skin. His abs clear as day to anyone who would look in his direction. You wrap your fingers at the bottom of the shirt and drag the fabric away from his stomach. Letting your fingertips graze his damp skin, dancing over his abs and lower stomach.

Toji only smirks, placing his large hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. Pressing his body against yours to feel your curves. Shivers running down his back as the sun had started to set, the only source of warmth now being your body. “You’ve gotten bolder ever since we started dating, you realize that? I remember the first time you saw me naked, you were literally speechless, not sure where to look first”

“I was not!! I was just trying to be respectful Toji! I started out as a stranger taking care of your son, to being someone who’s in love with you, living in the same house as you and being apart of your family. Of course I changed. Not to mention, anyone would have to take a few seconds to steady themselves when they see you naked Toji, have you seen your body?!”

His gaze softens and he can’t help but let out a chuckle at the last part. You did change, so did he, but for the better. You had brought a warmness and light back into his life that he thought he’d never feel again.

“I guess this is as good of a time as ever” Toji smiles as he reaches into his jacket pocket to take out the ring box. His fingers reach the bottom of the soaked and empty pocket. The color drains from his face and he feels his heart stop for a second.

This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything that had already gone wrong today.

“Good time for what?” You question, shivering slightly from the cold.

“Fuck uh, I booked us hotel rooms for the weekend” Toji reveals instead. That was supposed to be a surprise for after you had said yes, taking his fiancé back to the hotel to celebrate together. But now that his plans were ruined and he saw how cold you were getting, the only option was to retreat to the hotel and sleep it off.

“For the weekend? But what about Megumi?”

“Staying all weekend at Itadori’s. His older brother is there so don’t worry”

“But what about your job?”

“Already took the weekend off sweetheart”

“And the dogs?”

“Got a dog sitter, do you really think I can’t plan a weekend without messing something up?” He scoffs, half offended and half teasingly.

You raise your eyebrows, pulling away from his hold and opening up your hand. Revealing the ring box in your palm. “Can you blame me? Your proposal hasn’t really gone that smooth, now has it?”

Toji was speechless, frozen even. Seeing the ring box he thought was lost forever, now in your hand. He hadn’t even popped the question yet. “You- right, okay, shit. How the fuck did you find that?”

“Errr” you make a buzzing sound and give him a thumbs down. “Wrong answer, you’re supposed to take the ring from me, get down on one knee, tell me how much you love me, ask me to be your wife, kiss me after I say yes and drive me to the hotel so I don’t get frostbites!” you shiver, not sure if it was the wet clothes sticking to your skin and making you cold, or the adrenaline of watching Toji actually get down on one knee in front of you.

Toji looks up at you, taking the ring box from your hands and opening it up. Revealing the most beautiful engagement ring you had ever seen. Safe to say he knew your taste, getting each detail right. “I…this was not how I imagined today would go Y/n” he begins, unusually nervous. Just like the day he had cooked dinner for you for the first time. The nerves, the overthinking he wasn’t used to feeling.

“It’s us Toji, has anything up to today been how you imagined?” You let out a breathy chuckle, trying to play it off cool, but truthfully you were holding back from jumping up and down in excitement. Toji Fushiguro, the man you had been in love with for so long now, the man you had gotten the privilege to become apart of his family, the man who gave you the happiest and most content years of your life. That same man was holding up the perfect ring for you.

“Fuck I didn’t really practice this part, Megumi told me it’s best if I speak from the heart. But shit, you know I’m bad at that” he swallows hard, hands shaking slightly as he looks into your eyes. He was so unbelievably in love with you, and he desperately wanted to tell you that. “God okay, Y/n, I love you. More then money, more then gambling, shit I guess that’s not a good thing to compare it to, but bottom line, I love you. Hiring you as Megumi’s nanny is one of the best decisions I ever made, I don’t know if it was fucking fate or not, shit seems too good to be true to be honest, but you’re here. You’re here with me, you put up with me, you love me and Megumi. You make me realize that as long as I have you around, things will be fine. Like today, after everything, we ended up having a fun day, good meal and, well, an engagement ring that cost a pretty penny to get, thankfully not lost anymore. So, my pretty woman, will you marry me?”

You can’t help but chuckle, feeling emotional and happy all at once. Listening to every word carefully and feeling your heartbeat race faster and faster until the very end. “Yes Toji of course I’ll marry you” The answer slipped past your lips so easily, there was no doubt in your feelings.

After collecting himself, he slipped the ring on your finger and pulled you unbelievably close to him. “Fuck I love you” Toji mumbles into your neck, closing his eyes to make sure he didn’t tear up. He had replayed this moment in his head for weeks, imagining how it would go, yet he still never imagined it would feel this good.

“Me too, and I’d love you even more if we got to the hotel before we both get sick and spend the night celebrating with a fever and runny nose”

Toji grins against the skin on your neck, placing a few quick pecks against your pulse point before lifting you up in his arms bridal style. Walking with you like that towards the car.

“I have a question”

“Hmm?”

“How’d you find the ring?”

“When you body slammed me into the water, it fell out of your pocket and hit me in the face. Caught it before that big wave almost knocked you out afterwards. Can’t believe you didn’t notice, you dumbass”

“Hey careful there sweetheart, shouldn’t be calling your fiancé such words”

[strawberryblue-blog]

Hector fort nsfw alphabet

A to Z —Hector Fort.

summary: NSFW alphabet with Héctor.

warnings: YES. +18. smut, headcanon.

words count: +1k

A - after care (what is it like after sex?)

He doesn't usually fall asleep quickly, he always waits for you to be the first to fall asleep. He definitely likes to watch you sleep, so he probably falls asleep after you while looking at you like an idiot.

B - body part (favorite part of your body and his)

He's all in. He has no favorite part because he's a confident guy who works to love himself no matter what. On you, he could say the same thing but he loves your mind much more. The way you express yourself, how you feel things, how you love.

C - cum (anything about cumming)

You usually use condom. You are still starting out and don't want to make any mistakes, so for now he will use a condom until you decide to use birth control or other methods. But that's fine for him.

D - dirty secret (some dirty secret)

Probably videotaping himself while he fucks you or fucking you in front of a mirror to watch you squirm for him.

E - experience (experience in sex)

Basic. What is necessary. He's still learning because of his age and the time since he's had sex.

F - favorite position (to fuck you)

He likes it when you ride him but he is definitely in control, holding your waist and marking your movements. He may also like it when you ride him in reverse.

G - goofy (how serious is he during sex?)

It's not that serious but it depends on the situation. If you see each other often, he will definitely play with you for a while and might even joke around during sex. But if you are needy because you have been away from each other, then it will be serious.

H - hair (how do he/you take care of his/your privacy?)

He doesn't have much hair in general but his preference is to shave it all off. As for you, he might like you to do it too but he would never judge you or care if you ever forget or he has time. He's not interested in that way.

I - intimacy (what is it like during sex?)

He is usually calm, direct and deep. He likes to take his time to show you his love but sometimes he can get crazy.

J - jack off (masturbation, how much do he/you masturbate?)

He used to do it more often but since he's had you he's cut down.

K - kink (fetishes during sex)

Fucking you in the shower, hot, wet and smothering. Love the sensation. Also bite your neck, bite your tits, pull your hair back, look you straight in the eyes.

L - location (places to have sex)

He prefers safe and private places. Where it's just you and him and no one can disturb you. Preferably beds or sofas but if you want he could fuck you wherever you like.

M - motivation (what excites him/you?)

Honestly any movement of yours is motivation for Hector, maybe seeing you in the mornings half naked, giggly and clingy with him, turns him on a lot. Also when you wear his clothes. He really loves it when you wear his shirts, pants or even underwear.

N - no (what wouldn't he do with you?)

No to anything that could intentionally hurt you, he could never hurt you in any way, even if it's a game. He just can't.

O - oral (how does he like to give/receive?)

He's more of a giver. He likes to be in control and be able to show you how much he loves you. It's slow and torturous but until you see stars with his tongue and mouth, he won't stop.

P - pace (how do he like to do it?)

As I said before, he is quiet, he likes vanilla sex. He thinks it's romantic and you will enjoy it much more if you take your time, enjoy yourselves and feel each other deep down.

Q - quickie (do he like quick sex?)

He doesn't prefer them but if it's an emergency or an imminent need, Hector will take it.

R - risk (would he take risks? which ones?)

He prefers not to take risks of any kind. He likes to be safe and to fuck you well, not half-heartedly for fear of being caught or being aware of something other than you.

S - stamina (how long does it last during sex?)

Two rounds is enough for the attention he usually gives you in each round. He will definitely not only fuck you with his cock, he will fuck you with his mouth, his fingers, his tongue and finally his cock.

T - toy (use toys)

You've never done it before. He might be attracted to the idea of seeing you using some kind of toy such as a vibrator or dildo or he might use handcuffs and the like.

U - unfair (how much does he like to provoke you?)

On a range of 1-10, he likes to provoke you 6-7. It depends a lot on the situation and how needy he is, but he usually likes to play with you until he makes you beg.

V - volume (how loud is it during sex?)

Not so loud, more like heavy breathing or stifling gasps but leaves all the screaming up to you.

W - wild card (small random story)

You woke up in the morning after a night of partying with Hector's family. You had come to visit his parents' house and yesterday you had dinner while catching up and drinking. This morning when you woke up you had a headache, so you quickly went into the bathroom trying not to wake Hector. You needed to relax.

Showering was your favorite time of the day, before going out or after coming home. So here you were, carefully washing your hair and feeling the water relax your body. A small noise made you notice someone entering the bathroom, with a smile on your face you waited for your companion and laughed as you felt a wet kiss on your shoulder. His big hands settle on your waist and help you turn around on him.

“Will you show up every time I'm showering?” you ask amused as his kisses spill over your neck, shoulder and collarbones.

“It's disrespectful for you to get in the shower without me” he murmurs honeyed as his kisses continue to lick you. His mouth bites your shoulder and makes you bristle, squealing.

“Hector, don't…” you warn but he keeps licking and biting your neck. You have clear intentions and you know it by the way he seeks to mark your skin.

Your hands embrace his shoulders and you hang off him as your wall slams against the cold shower wall. His fingers trail down your belly and stop at your mons pubis.

“It's your parents' house” you say scolding him.

But he doesn't care and his fingers slide into your wetness, caressing your lips. You moan slowly, trying to keep silent.

“I'll teach you to wait for me, baby” he growls into your neck as he bites into your skin and at the same time two of his fingers penetrate you hard making you gasp and cover your mouth.

X - x-ray (how big is it and how?)

It is long and slender, somewhat veiny and firm. When aroused it can look even bigger, sometimes it's scary, if you know what I mean.

Y - yearning (how long can desire last?)

He probably has a pretty high desire. You can't blame him, he's a young guy with hardly any experience and he wants to fuck you all the time.

Z - zzz (how is his sleep after sex?)

He can last a long time without falling asleep, in fact, you fall asleep before he does because Hector will watch you until the last second before he falls asleep.

[leighsartworks216]

Scar Tissue

Sylus x gn!Reader

Eyyyyy @comatosebunny09 I finally finished it >:3

Based on this post

Title from "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Warnings: cuddling, early relationship, intimacy, injury, guns, knives, semi-nudity

Word Count: 2,421

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“Speak.”

The generic carpet muffles his footfalls as he crosses the room to the oversized floor to ceiling windows that peer out over Chansia City. You follow behind him until you get to the dresser, lined neatly with your clothes.

The hotel is very nice, especially high up here in the presidential suite. Though, you haven’t had much time to actually enjoy it. You got here yesterday, and it feels like all you’ve had time for is sleeping and getting dressed. It’s all been meetings, deals and exchanges otherwise. The only reason you’re back here at all is to change clothes to go to dinner with another client.

Sylus sighs, irritation painting his face with a scowl. You can just barely hear Luke’s voice on the other end. They’ve been holding down the N109 Zone in Sylus’s absence. “More petty land grabs?”

“Nah, from what we’ve heard it sounds like an affair came to light and now they’re duking it out to win their love.”

You snicker as you pull out a clean shirt. You turn and drop it on the bed, back to Sylus as you take off your shirt, bloody and torn from your earlier meeting. He turns to shoot you a half-amused half-annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Have Mephisto-”

But the words get stuck in his throat. Time seems to slow down as he stares at the bare expanse of your back. Your skin looks like a well-used cutting board. Scar after scar, criss-crossing over each other, fundamentally altering the appearance of your flesh for years to come.

He can pinpoint which were from missions he’d sent you on. Jobs that put you in the line of fire, where you had to fight your way out to survive, where someone got a surprise jump on you.

Others are completely foreign. Cuts and bullet wounds and burn marks, all unfamiliar to him. What secrets from your past do you keep locked away from him? How safe are you from the ones that hurt you? Would you ever tell him if something was wrong? If something cropped up from back then, from a time he’d never know enough of? Perhaps not.

Somehow, the former was worse. Knowing he was the one that sent you into trouble. Or those damn injuries you earned from taking a hit intended for him. Being the root cause for your pain aches more than never knowing the damage you incurred before.

You slip your shirt on, hiding the marks from view, and peek over your shoulder at him, confused by his silence. Time speeds back up.

He schools his features into something neutral, hiding the regret and hurt, and burying it deep down within him. He looks out the windows once more. Luke asks if he’s alright. Sylus ignores it, speaking as if nothing ever happened.

-

Dinner was dull, for the most part. The client didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t there for conversation, repeatedly prompting you to answer questions. You’d have signaled Sylus to put the man in his place, but it was all too amusing to see him flounder.

“What kind of gun do you use?” You’d slipped it from its holder mid sip of wine and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. That’d taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly enough, spewing off facts about the make and model that you already knew.

“Has it been modified?” You broke it down and separated the parts that had been replaced or enhanced. He’d curiously reached out to inspect them, but you put it back together before he could touch anything. He paused, but put on a slightly strained, polite smile as he awkwardly sat back in his chair.

“How good is your aim?” You shot the end of his cigarette when he went to tap the ashes into a dish, scaring him so bad he shook the entire table and had to rapidly keep his drink from tipping into his lap.

He seemed content to leave you be after that.

You fall back into the bed, arms spread out wide and still in your dinner attire. Sylus chuckles. “Have fun?” he teases. He sits down beside you, leaning on his arm with an amused grin.

You shoot an unimpressed glare his way. Fabric rustles as you slide your hand along the bed to hold his arm, caressing the tensed muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

His grin turns into a salacious smirk. You smack his bicep. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.” Nonetheless, he kicks off his shoes by the side of the bed and lays down beside you. With one hand acting as a pillow, the other rests comfortably on your stomach. You wrap your arm around his neck to play with his hair. Content, you close your eyes.

The last vestiges of the sun filter through the window. Combined with the few lights in the room, you look… peaceful. It’s starting to become a common sight, and he takes great pleasure in being the one allowed to witness it. These times when you trust him enough to relax. When you stop listening out for the slightest hint of danger. When your body releases the tension constantly preparing your body for an attack. It’s a privilege. He hopes never to take it for granted.

Your fingers flit lazily through his hair. His body still tenses on the onset of your touch. His natural instinct yells for him to pull away, go on the defensive, protect himself. It’s always a battle to fight against them and allow himself to completely trust someone. As this - cuddling together, the small moments of physical intimacy and skinship - become the normal, the fight gets easier and easier.

He wonders if that same defensive instinct wars on in your head when he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt. The first brush of his fingers on your flesh, the flinch of muscle away from the contact, that eases back into his touch after a pause. If it does, you say nothing of it. Rather, when your stomach flinches away, you tug on his hair. An equal exchange. And perhaps a reminder of the lengths you have both gone to expose yourselves to each other.

Calloused fingertips dance across your belly, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Soft ridges and toughened skin of layers of damage done across the years. His mind is shot back to the thoughts he had earlier. You can feel the shift in his touch. The way his fingers lift to barely ghost over your skin, as though you’re as thin and fragile as wet tissue paper. You open your eyes to watch him.

His face is stern. Like when discussing a difficult deal, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark. He slowly pushes up the shirt until it rests in a rumpled heap around the bottom of your ribcage. The shift in your breathing latches on at the edge of his senses. Just as with your back, scar after scar decorates your skin. But one stands out from the rest.

Along the line of your hip is a cut. It’s shallow. The skin it tore apart is irritated from lack of care and not having a moment to rest properly.

That’s his fault, too. Dragging you out to a dinner you didn’t really want to go to instead of giving you the opportunity to sleep and heal. Technically, you’re his bodyguard - his guard dog, always by his side, defending him from anyone who you deem a threat. Yet, he’s discomfited by just how quickly you step in to protect him. That’s what this scar is the result of.

The meeting this morning. A fight broke out. He was aiming a gun at the other group leader. One of their lackeys came up from the side with a knife. And you got hit. It had bled, but you’d brushed him off so easily when he mentioned it. You weren’t doubled over, nor were you in a rush to patch it up, so he trusted your judgement. Without a second thought.

Fortunately, your judgement is dependable. All it really needs is a bandage to keep the skin together and bacteria out while it heals, and yet he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. All he does is trace alongside it, feeling how it becomes intertwined with the scars before it.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, but the tone of his voice is odd. Teasing, edged with something raw. Something more vulnerable. Something that you two have been dancing around for weeks. “Tell me the next time you’re hurt. I’ll patch you up.”

You brush the hair from his face. His red eyes shift first to the bunched up fabric of your shirt, then to yours. His eyes are soft. The deep maroon of before has melted into a bloody crimson.

“I can patch myself up.”

He scoffs with a smirk and the slight tilt of his head. “I wasn’t asking, sweetie.”

You quirk a brow up at him. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

Your fingers falter. He brushes his thumb more firmly along the edge of the cut, still light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force that it no longer feels like he’s treating you like something fragile.

You frown at him, tapping three times at the base of his skull, a silent request for more information. He pushes himself up onto his elbow. It should be salacious, even intimidating, for him to hover over you like this. But it’s not.

His eyes follow his hand as he traces other marks on your belly. A bullet entrance wound here, a Wanderer’s blade there. The ones he caresses are newer. They haven’t yet faded into your skin. Of all of them, he’d only helped treat one or two. Some, he never even knew about, but he could trace back to when, what mission, they were received from.

“How many of these are from protecting me?” he asks lowly. “You do realize I can heal from all of these much faster than you can, don’t you, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. “It bothers you… that I do my job?”

He chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “You could stand to be a little less efficient at it.”

The world falls quiet. The sun disappears, leaving darkness in her wake. The orange glow of the hotel lamps forms mountains and valleys along your skin. You study him, searching for answers.

Over your lifetime struggling to survive, you’d gotten good at reading people, Sylus included. Of course, he had broken your assumptions and expectations. If he hadn’t, you’d never have let him get so close. Never have allowed him to touch you like this, see your skin like this.

Right now, you can’t understand him.

He hired you to be his bodyguard, to protect him. To be his own personal shield when shit hits the fan. But he doesn’t want you to? A lingering fear in your mind worries for the end of your partnership. Would he really touch you like this if he wanted to fire you? Besides, when you made the damn deal, he said only you would have the power to call it off. He wasn’t someone to go against his word.

You drop your hand from his hair. His eyes snap to you, a flicker of fear that is snuffed out when you touch his chest. He’s still wearing his nice dress shirt, jacket discarded elsewhere. You play with one of the buttons. “How many times have you stepped in to protect me?” you ask.

Countless times. More and more frequently.

“Do you let any of them scar?”

He slowly shakes his head. It’s always second nature for him to use his Evol to take care of any and all injuries. Anything that could scar is gone before he has a chance to think about it, so long as he’s in the right conditions to use it.

“Then you can’t understand.”

He hums. “Enlighten me.”

You grin. Gliding your hand from his chest, down his arm, you hold the back of his where it rests on your stomach. It doesn’t take much effort to guide him. He watches, feels the scars that scrape by, as you bring it back back down to your hip, until his palm rests over the cut. It will heal within a couple of weeks, probably less. Once it’s healed, it will scar over. Once it scars over, it will be nothing more than a lasting memory embedded in your skin.

“They’re badges,” you say quietly. When he looks back up at you, you’re watching his hand, trailing your fingertips over the veins that decorate them. “I earned them from protecting you.”

So why would I not want them?

It goes unsaid, but he catches it anyway in the gentle reverence of your carress, the quirk of your brow when you look at him wordlessly asking if he can understand now. It doesn’t need to be said.

He slips his hand out from under yours. The bed shifts with his weight as he turns and gets up. You feel the loss immediately. It’s easy to hide the disappointment, but it churns over in your gut, more distinctly than you’ve ever felt it before, as he disappears around the corner of the wall. Did he really hate them so much?

He returns a minute later when you’re considering fixing your shirt with a medkit in hand. He sits on his knees, sets the kit down beside your body, and opens it up to get what he needs. The disinfectant stings as he wipes it along the cut, but you hardly feel it when he just looks so beautiful. So focused on taking care of you.

“Tell me when you're hurt,” he reminds you. He unspools a length of gauze and wraps it around your midsection securely. He glances at you with a slight grin as he grabs a roll of bandages from the kit. “They won’t scar well if they get infected first.”

A week later, you’re the one patching him up. He sits calmly on the couch as you draw a needle through the skin of his bicep. It’s just a knife wound. Earned from stepping in to protect you.

He can’t wait to see the scar.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[janiehellion]

New Blood In An Old Place

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: The quietest souls have the loudest hearts, and you just found yourself staring at the sky—wondering if Daryl Dixon might be the one to make the stars in the night feel a little closer and less out of reach.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SELECTIVE MUTISM / FLUFF / MILD ANGST / SLOW BURN / CANON DIVERGENCE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.515

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S9 & EARLY S10

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You’d always been the quiet type, even before the world fell apart. Silence wasn’t something that scared you; it was where you felt most at home. And it made survival easier too. The less noise you made, the harder it was for anyone—dead or alive—to find you.

But the sudden loss of your voice wasn’t something that had happened overnight, and it wasn’t a head injury either. No, it came quietly, over time, like a shadow that only grew darker.

You’d always had a voice—loud and clear. You’d argued with friends, laughed at the dumbest jokes, and sang along to songs so loud just to annoy people in a karaoke bar alongside your friends.

You had a life.

But then, just a few weeks before the world ended, you started to notice it. At first, you brushed it off—just a little hoarseness, maybe a harmless cold. Then, when you tried to speak like you used to, nothing came out. Not even a whisper.

The feeling was like swallowing a stone, with you choking on the problem to get the words out. The doctors couldn’t explain it at first. They said it could be stress-related, maybe an anxiety disorder and coming from trauma. They called it selective mutism in adulthood, but that didn’t help you feel any better about the situation.

You could still speak, technically, since your vocal cords weren’t damaged. But when you tried to speak, it felt like something in your brain held your voice hostage. It would just come out weak.

In moments when you were alone, you could speak freely, but it wasn’t as perfect as you wanted it to be. Your voice trembled like it wasn’t used to its own sound. Still… it was there. But around other people? You just couldn’t use it anymore.

And the silence became more than just silence—it became a prison between you and the world.

In the final days before the world ended, you stopped trying completely. The fear of trying to speak only to fail took its toll. So, you leaned into it. It was easier. You could still communicate, just not with words. You had learned sign language before, but now it was something that felt more like a lifeline than a language at times.

Even after the world fell apart, after the deaths and all the losses during all those years, you still clung to being quiet. It was safer that way. It just kept the world's horrors far enough from you.

But sometimes, late at night, when you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your voice would slip through, quiet and unsure, with nobody else but the stars in the sky around to listen.

When you crossed paths with Magna’s group, you’d been alone for so long that trying to talk again seemed almost foreign. But Connie understood that without you ever having to say a thing. She figured you out right away and never tried to get you to talk; she never pushed you toward expectations.

When you met, she just looked at you and raised her hands to start signing. She’d seen right through you, understanding that your silence wasn’t a weakness. For you, it became like a secret language, something shared between survivors who didn’t need words to know how to hold each other up.

In a way, it felt good—like being given permission to go back to silence, but without the loneliness that had followed you for so long. The group simply took you in and accepted you without any restraint.

Magna was a bit hesitant about you, but you caught the looks she’d exchanged with Connie when it came to you. Kelly, on the other hand, was curious from the start, even though she held back her questions. Luke was kinder than he had any right to be, filling in all the gaps that words used to with music. And Yumiko—well, she kept her distance at first but always nodded in respect whenever you shared a knowing glance.

For once, you didn’t feel like a liability just because you weren’t talking about every thought that crossed your mind. You found friends within them. Maybe it was Connie’s warm smiles or Kelly’s easy acceptance. Or maybe it was the way they didn’t stare too long when you used your hands instead of your voice—how they gave you room to be silent without feeling the need to fill it.

There was a safety in it—an invisibility that let you see things without being seen yourself. The new world was loud enough; you didn’t need to add to the noise. Besides, words were like a last resort. Hand signs and body language could fill in the rest.

And so the days in the new world passed by. The old one had ended, and with it, so many things you had once known. But your silence remained, and you thought it would always be that way.

Until one night changed everything.

The first time you saw Hilltop, it felt like a miracle—a place that actually looked like it could hold the world at bay. People worked the fields, tended to livestock, and repaired anything that needed to be repaired. It was almost overwhelming—the noise and the life.

Your eyes wandered, taking in everything. Connie nudged you once, signing quickly, "Are you okay?"

"Just watching," you signed back and nodded, quick enough to not draw attention. She gave you a thumbs-up and returned to whatever was happening around you.

That’s when you noticed him.

You held your ground under his stare, tilting your head slightly as if to say, "What are you looking at?"

He didn’t answer, of course, just turned back to the person he’d been talking to. His crossbow was slung over one shoulder, the weapon looking as much a part of him as his worn leather vest. He seemed like the kind of man who belonged in this world—strong, observant, and… silent.

Connie followed your eyes and smirked. She signed quickly. "That’s Daryl Dixon. Quiet, almost like you. You’ll like him."

You rolled your eyes, but a part of you wondered if she was right.

To say Daryl was wary would be an understatement. You’d watched him from a distance at first, both of you not interested in any kind of interaction at all.

But over time, it changed. Maybe it was because he saw the way you signed with Connie, or maybe he just figured he’d get more out of you by observing.

At first, it was small things. Daryl would catch you signing something to Connie—a quick exchange about the day, a comment on the weather—and his brow would furrow like he was trying to decipher a code. He didn’t do anything, not right away, but you noticed how his eyes looked at your hands more often.

He was practicing off to the side when he thought no one was looking, his fingers stiff and awkward as he tried to do a hand sign he’d seen. Once, you caught him fumbling through what looked like 'hello' and 'thank you' with some kind of concentration that might’ve been funny if it weren’t so earnest.

Sometimes, you’d sign something small—'Good morning.' or 'How are you?'—just to break the silence, and he’d respond in kind, while you’d answer with a nod or a slight smile, just enough to let him know he didn’t have to worry.

But he stuck with learning it, stubbornly repeating each sign until he got it right.

And when he finally worked up the nerve to really use it? Well, it didn’t go as smoothly as he had planned.

He approached you one afternoon, just as you were sitting down with Connie once more. He looked between the two of you, then at his hands with a bit of panic. Slowly and unsure, he signed, "Ya… okay?"

Connie held back a grin as she nudged you. You smiled, nodding at him before replying, "Yes. And you?"

The look on his face changed—relief, but still with a bit of embarrassment. "Good," he signed, then quickly ducked his head and whispered to himself, "'M still learnin’ for ya…"

But Connie wasn’t going to let him go just like that. She leaned over, her hands moving fast. "Not bad. But maybe do it even slower the next time?"

Daryl just scoffed in response, but he kept at it. His signs grew smoother over time, less clumsy, and much more confident. He’d even started picking up on the little things—how you’d tap your fingers when you were nervous or how Connie’s signs slowed when she was tired.

It wasn’t perfect, but something. And you couldn’t help but notice how often his eyes found yours during those quiet moments, like he was searching for something in the silence you shared.

And that’s how things were—a wordless connection that nobody questioned.

As the months passed by, helping with farming became your hobby. There was something relaxing about it—the rows of crops and the people working. You weren’t much of a farmer yourself, not yet, but sitting next to the fields, watching, or lending a hand when someone needed it, gave you something you hadn’t felt in years.

Sometimes, you just needed to be near it—something that grew, something that reminded you of life’s persistence, even in the darkest of times. The fields, the plants, the insects, and the small living things—they gave you a sense of belonging you couldn’t quite explain.

And Daryl? He started showing up more regularly, his eyes staying less on the dirt and more on you. He’d make little comments about the crops to himself or sign quick questions to you about what you were doing.

You found yourself signing more as well, explaining things through gestures and expressions, and he watched you like he was trying to remember every movement of your hands and fingers. Occasionally, he’d try to sign back something new he learned.

"Yer patient," he signed, seemingly out of nowhere. "With me."

You glanced at him in return, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Teachin’ me," he clarified, quickly scratching the back of his neck. "Most woulda given up by now."

You shrugged with a small smile in response. "You’re trying," you answered. "But you understand me just fine. And effort matters, too… even with your heavy accent."

He didn’t respond right away; he just ducked his head away and went back to work, but you saw the tiniest bit of a smirk before he did.

With him, the quiet moments started to feel… different.

By the end of the latest day, after almost everyone else in Hilltop was already asleep, you were still there, with Daryl, but now too lost in the way the stars twinkled in the night sky.

He had an uncomfortable look about him—the one that said, 'I’m not good at this, but I’m here.'

Daryl hesitated, sitting a few feet away, not sure whether to just hang back or leave. His eyes looked between you and the sky, clearly uncomfortable but trying not to show it.

"Ya… uh, ya do this a lot?" He asked after tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

You gestured back, "Sometimes. Have you never noticed before? I mean, it's… It's peaceful, don't you think?"

"Yeah. Peaceful," he signed back, his fingers shaking a little. "I get it. Don’ get a lotta quiet no more." He sat down closer to you without asking, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body beside you, but not too close.

The first two hours passed by, and when the stars began to shine brighter through the cloudy sky, you caught him looking upward.

You nudged him gently, signing. "Pretty, huh?"

He only shrugged. "Ain’t seen ‘em like this in a while. Too much runnin’ 'round, I guess."

You smiled, and the time stretched on, but it wasn’t awkward—it was relaxing. Soon the wind picked up, the breeze feeling colder, and you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.

But Daryl noticed immediately. He moved behind you, pulling off his vest with a gruff. "Here. Take it."

You blinked at him, shaking your head and gesturing back quickly. "No. You’ll get cold."

He snorted, putting the vest on your lap stubbornly. "Don’ matter. Ain’t much colder’n usual for me."

You hesitated before reluctantly taking the vest and slipping it on. It was warm and quite soft, with the smell of leather and something distinctly Daryl Dixon clinging to it.

"Big on me," you signed, smiling at him before watching the clouds in the sky pass by.

He smirked to himself, looking away as if he didn't want you to know what he was thinking. "Looks better on ya anyway…"

The stars above seemed brighter somehow, and without thinking, you leaned closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

He froze for a second before relaxing, his eyes looking toward you in confusion. "Ya alright?"

"Feeling cozy already," you nodded, lifting your fingers to answer. "You know… it’s strange how big the world feels."

"Yeah," he mumbled to himself, looking upward before signing back to you. "Big 'nough to make ya feel like nothin’, huh?"

"No, not nothing," you signed, shaking your head. "Small? Yeah, maybe. But not nothing."

He grunted and smirked, though his expression stayed guarded as he signed further. "Suppose so. Don’ mean it’s a bad thing, bein’ small. Keeps ya humble. Like—hell, I ain’t out here thinkin’ I’m bigger’n the stars or nothin’. That’d jus' be so damn stupid."

You bit back a grin, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. If anything, it felt right—sitting close to him and just signing along. But when another shiver went through you, it startled him out of whatever thought had his attention.

He reached out awkwardly, his hand stopping near your shoulder before pulling back to sign, since he wasn't aware of the fact you could actually listen to him, after all. "Ya still cold?"

You nodded. "A little. But I have this." You tugged at his vest, smirking a bit.

The next few minutes passed slowly, his hand touching your arm every now and then before retreating like he didn’t trust himself and thinking he might do something wrong.

You weren’t sure what made you do it, but something in his touch—or lack of it—had you leaning into him. But when you moved to sit sideways on his lap out of nowhere, his whole body stiffened like he’d just stepped into a trap, even though he didn’t push you away.

"Sharing warmth," you signed with an innocent tilt of your head, but you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

Daryl flinched beneath you, his hands moving around like he couldn’t decide where they were supposed to go, but one finally moved near your hips.

You smiled at his reaction. "It’s okay if you don’t know what to do. I don’t, either. Believe me."

That seemed to take some of the nervousness away from him. "Ain’t that the truth? World’s gone to shit, and here we are, tryin’ to figure out how to… y’know." He gestured vaguely in front of your face.

"Be human?" You signed back, your hands moving slowly and thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he responded. "S’pose we’re doin’ fine, though. Least, I think we are."

You tilted your head to the side to look at him in the faint moonlight. He looked… softer like this. As if he was opening up in a way you never saw, and it made your heart race.

His hands brushed along your shoulder in a quick, almost hesitant motion before he brought them up again. "Ya good now? Feelin' better n' warmer?"

"Yes, I feel good," you signed, your hands moving slowly as if the moment might be destroyed if you rushed. "You make me feel… safe."

Daryl's Adam's apple bobbed hard as he swallowed, and for a moment, you thought he might push you away for sure. Instead, he just pulled you a little closer, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.

"Safe’s good," he mumbled to himself. "Safe’s good. 'N stars ain’t got nothin’ on feelin' safe."

"But I still think it's strange how small we are," you signed further, your fingers lingering in the air like a painter in front of their work. "How small one can feel in this world."

"Y’ain’t small," he answered with his hands in front of your face again. "Ain’t like we’re jus', dunno… some kinda insect out here. Maybe this world’s gone to hell, but yer… bigger’n that, I guess."

You smiled, your fingers moving quickly. "And you’re not exactly a philosopher, Daryl Dixon."

He snorted at that, shaking his head. "Yeah, well… don’ needa be. 'S jus' the truth."

You shivered again, the cold breeze leaving goosebumps on your skin, and his eyes narrowed as he noticed.

"And ya still freezin'," he signed, almost accusingly, as if you hadn’t already borrowed his vest. You tilted your head, your face making it clear that the wind wasn't the only thing making you tremble.

Daryl shifted a bit, pulling his vest more tightly around your shoulders. His hands grabbed the edges of it, tugging it so it covered your chest better. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something, but instead, he exhaled sharply through his nose before he looked down, one of his hands twitching before moving to touch your knee.

"Damn wind," Daryl mumbled. "Can’t believe ya let it get ya like this..."

The way he said it wasn’t angry. It sounded more frustrated, like he blamed himself more than anything else as his thumb brushed over your knee, his fingers digging into your pants just enough to make your pulse quicken.

"Shit," he growled quietly, his other hand soon moving to grab your hips as if he were trying to ground himself before he leaned his head in closer. His nose touched your temple and went lower, brushing along your jawline. But Daryl didn't stop there; his lips pressed gently against your pulse point, staying there as if he wanted to remember the feel of your skin against himself all of a sudden.

"Smellin' so good… like somethin’ I don’ deserve," he whispered to himself as his hand tightened on your hips."Too close… Too close…" he growled, but his grip didn’t loosen.

Instead, he pulled you in, but only just enough, like he didn’t trust himself to go any further. "Can’t… Can’t be that close. Shouldn' be."

The muscles in his arm were twitching as if he were afraid you might slip away—afraid that if he let go, you'd disappear. He was trying to memorize it—to memorize you—trying to hold on without breaking anything inside himself.

"Why ya makin' me… feel like that?"

And then—without any warning—his tongue was dragging itself across your throat. It was slow as if he couldn’t get enough, and the feeling was almost overwhelming, like he was marking you with every slide of his tongue, each lick a little longer than the last.

His hand slid further up your back, his fingers digging into his vest around your body as if trying to pull you even closer, but his mouth never left your neck. He growled, and when he got to the curve of your jaw, he couldn’t resist—his teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to make you shiver.

"Fuckin’ hell," he growled again, but his lips never stopped moving over your skin. It was as if he needed to feel you against him, closer than close, just to make sure you were really there.

"Goddamn…" Daryl's voice cracked slightly, and you swore you felt his whole body trembling even more as he pressed closer, burying his face in the crook of your now slightly wet neck.

You wanted to sign something to him, anything, but the way his lips then moved along the curve of your neck instead of his tongue stole the thoughts right out of your mind. His nose nudged closer, and you could swear you felt him inhale deeply, his stubble brushing softly against your skin.

It was tender like a breeze but rough as a storm—the kind of closeness that set your nerves on fire and each cell ablaze.

Daryl leaned back slightly, letting you sit more fully in his lap, and the quiet groan that came out of his mouth when you adjusted your weight made your heart race and sent it into overdrive. His forehead came to rest against your cheek for a moment, his breathing uneven as if he was about to melt, his eyes half-lidded as they took you in.

His hands felt as if they were everywhere—on your back, your hips, your face—but you couldn’t focus on anything except the way he was looking at you like he was starving.

Before you could even react, Daryl's teeth sank into your shoulder, hard enough to make you wince at the soft pain, but not enough to hurt you. His mouth followed the mark he made, soothing it with his tongue before, gentle and wordlessly, his lips found your cheek.

It was slow at first, almost shy when he nudged you with his nose several times, pressing quick kisses to your cheek. But when you didn't pull away, he deepened it, his lips kissing your face with some kind of desperation that’s been building for far too long.

His fingers tangled in your hair, keeping you close to him, while his other hand still held on to your knees, holding you close enough to feel every shudder of his breath before burying his face against you again.

"Need ya…" He growled quiet and roughly against your throat, his voice hoarse, like he was trying to communicate through his actions rather than words, as if he couldn’t control himself anymore.

You leaned into him, your fingers grabbing and holding onto his shirt as he kissed his way back up to the corner of your mouth.

"Don’ lemme stop… 'cause I ain’t sure I can," he whispered, his voice soft and his eyes closed like he was trying to shut out the world and focus on the feeling of you being so close.

You could feel the way he was fighting himself, like there was a battle going on somewhere deep inside of him. It was like he was waiting for some sort of permission—while waiting to see if you’d still push him away.

You reached up, your fingers gently touching his chin, then moving down to his neck, feeling the shiver of his body beneath your touch. You didn’t rush, didn’t try to close the distance too fast. You just let the silence take a hold of time, letting him process, letting him come to terms with whatever was going on in his head.

When you finally moved, it wasn’t forceful or harsh. You tilted your head slightly, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. He froze—completely still, like the whole world had stopped.

It wasn’t the shock kind of freeze. It wasn’t fear, or panic. It was the kind that came when someone was trying to hold on to something which could break at any time, unsure if they should let go of the fragile moment. And Daryl was still fighting, still unsure. But when you didn’t pull back, when you stayed close, he let himself relax.

The kiss was slow, hesitant at first. His lips barely pressed against yours, as if testing. But then, when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you a little deeper, a little more sure. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t rushed. It was gentle—sweet, like he was giving you all the time in the world to back away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

When you pulled back, his eyes looked into yours—wide, almost like he couldn’t believe it had happened. "Uh… I, uh…" He stammered, while caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.

Neither of you signed a word, and for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the world wasn’t such a lonely and dark place after all.

Daryl soon broke the silence, speaking more to himself than to you as he looked up at the sky. "New blood in an old place…"

You stopped breathing for a moment, your heart skipping a beat as you listened to him. It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a realization like the stars had aligned at that very moment.

New blood in an old place.

It could have meant many things, but as you let it sink in, you realized it’s his way of talking about you—about the way you’ve come into this world, this place. You were different from the ones who’ve weathered here, those who’ve learned how to survive in the rain.

Maybe you were a spark—untouched by the bitterness of a storm cloud that never really went away until now. At least… for him. It was like Daryl was seeing you in a different light that shined brighter like the stars in the night.

You leaned in slightly, a little nervous, but you finally spoke—really spoke. "Maybe it's not about being new. Maybe it's just about finding somewhere that feels… like it could be home."

Daryl’s eyes went wide. He stared at you as if he hadn’t fully processed the fact that you’d spoken—that you had actually spoken.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his lips parted in shock. "Did ya jus'—" He stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Yer… talkin’?"

You could feel the way his hands trembled, his eyes staring at you like he was afraid to blink.

"Say my name," he demanded, cupping your face and looking into your eyes. "Say… my name."

You hesitated, your stopping for a second before the word came out nervously. "Daryl..."

"Say it again," he whispered, his voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite understand. "Jus'... say it again."

You swallowed hard, the sound of your own voice feeling not so foreign anymore with his name on your lips. "Daryl."

He didn’t say anything further. He just held you, now both his arms wrapped around you like he needed to keep you there to believe it was real.

And then, in that same instant, he leaned forward, one hand grabbing your chin, but this time with a bit more force. His lips found yours again, rougher this time, but still full of that same sweetness, like he was trying to devour you. His tongue slipped into your mouth—not slowly, not careful, just all-consuming.

It was a warning, as if he was reminding you—he wasn’t letting you go—he was marking you, claiming you. It was a kiss that spoke for him without saying any words at all, a kiss that told you that you weren’t just new blood anymore—you were a part of this place, and of him.

The world still seemed dark around you, but with him at your side and bright stars up in the sky, it didn’t seem quite as impossible to face those shadows anymore.

You were new blood—but you were home.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: An attempt at writing fluff, I guess. And honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. If some parts and scenes feel a little repetitive, that’s me trying to slowly build intimacy because I didn’t want to rush anything.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema @ch3r0k33-r0s3

[ldysmfrst]

Incomplete (4) - 8 Makes 1 Team, But 9 Make...

Paring: Ateez OT8 x Plus-sized FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 14,942

Word count for Story: 33,808

Genre: Idol Soulmate AU

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This story will contain a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, m/m, and m/f/m. This chapter contains panic attacks, the death of a non-main character, y/n having lots of negative emotions towards self, Protective San, and Shielded Jongho.

Story Summary: Ateez are soulmates who earned their way to Fame once they found each other. What happens when a new pull comes during their Towards The Light World Tour? Does 8 really make 1?

INCOMPLETE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

With their attention entirely on the oldest of the three ladies in the room, silence looms. There was a slight tension because they were finally learning something about you besides your name.

Seonghwa could feel your unease and– guilt?

Cindy looked at each of the bonded soulmates before stopping at Seonghwa and said, “Y/n… Y/n’s soulmate was murdered on June 15, 2016– on her 18th birthday.”

Ateez stared at Cindy wide-eyed and dropped chins because that wasn’t possible. Denial ran through the bonded group like a tide wave from everyone but Jongho, who still had minor reservations. As far as everyone they saw, all the signs were there that this woman sitting next to their oldest bonded mate was indeed another link in the bond.

They were your soulmates, not this other person, right? 

“I know this may seem like a stupid question, but” Jongho breaks the silence, his mind diving back into the secure walls he always kept around his heart. Maybe his soulmates were wrong, and this is just another game. 

“No, no. Let’s start with a non-stupid question… what do you mean Y/n has a soulmate already?” asks Wooyoung.

Another silent conversation happens between the three ladies before the younger friend speaks. God, what San wouldn’t give to gain mind reading as an ability instead of pinning. He doesn’t have to have Seonghwa’s ability to see your emotions, which are not in a good place right now, and it cuts his soul not to know how or why. 

“Darren Donahue. Y/n and Darren were instant friends when she transferred to our school in the middle of 3rd grade. They were inseparable all through the rest of elementary school and into high school,” says Kat.

“After growing up with soulmates as parents,” Kat smiles gently at Cindy. “I had an innate understanding of how to spot soulbonds or possibilities. It was resoundingly clear that there was a potential bond between them. Darren was a year older than Y/n when he turned 18 and could finally connect with his soulmate if he had one… but he never even looked.”

“Darren had asked Y/n’s mom to take her out for her 18th birthday. By that time, he had told several of us that his heart knew she would be his,” added Cindy. “All of us were supportive because we all agreed. Sure, there was a chance that we were all wrong. Ever since… we kind have wished we were.”

The boys watched as you sunk more into yourself. Now more than ever, Seonghwa wants to stop the feeling of guilt coming off you in waves, but looking at Jongho’s stern face, he understands that, for some reason, his ability cannot get through to you.

“Y/n, how did you know that Darren was your soulmate? Did you bond?” questions Hongjoong, hoping to get a clearer picture of what has happened and, in turn, what is happening. 

Looking at the Captain, you nod and show them a deep, still pink, rough scar carved into your arm. “He was with me at midnight when I turned 18. I gained my soulmate ability to feel emotions right away, but I don’t know what he was because we never got to...” your voice cuts as Ateez watches the tears fall. 

Glancing over at Hongjoong with his firm jaw, Yeosang feels helpless. He can see that the other members are feeling similarly. San blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. Wooyoung hasn’t looked up since you answered his question. Yunho and Mingi look like they want to go on a murder spree because none of them know what to do to help you. 

They are useless to what their ladymate has gone through, and they don’t know what the future will hold since… well, since, according to popular belief, you only have one complete soulmate bond within a lifetime. The scar on your arm must be where your soulmate's mark formed when the bond was completed. Why it is a scar now will have to be discussed later.

Seonghwa watches your face as it silently contorts through what he can only think are memories and silently cries with you. If you and he had the same ability you gained once you bonded with this Darren… then you survived more than anyone will truly understand.

Jongho moves to stand behind the soulmate he can help and brings Hwa out of his small spiral of guilt for you for living with what happened. No one should have something so precious ripped from their hearts after such a short time.

“Maybe we are second chances,” comments Yunho. “They are practically unheard of and even rarer to be at the numbers we are.”

“Yeah, sure, Yunho,” scoffs Jongho. “If we were second-chance soulmates, then why would she not respond to all of our abilities? Where is our soulmate mark?”

The men are at a loss, and from the contemplative looks on your friend’s face, they see that they aren’t the only ones. None of them are well educated in the realm of soulmates and soul bonding. They don’t have answers for anyone, which doesn’t settle well with Hongjoong, Seonghwa, San, and Mingi. Is there anyone who they could talk to?

The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls everyone’s attention to their manager, which gains him some glaring from the demon line. “I hate to say this, but we need to leave for the BMO soon, Hongjoong-ssi,” he says nervously. 

San stands up quickly. “We can’t leave her right now. It won’t be suitable for any of us. Things are already strained as they are.”

“San-hyung, we don’t understand what is happening. It could be stress and timing that is causing all of this,” comments Jongho with an almost dismissive attitude.

“Excuse me?!!?” challenges San, squaring off towards the group's youngest member.

“Go,” you firmly say. “You need to be there for Atiny tonight just like you were there for us last night. I cannot be the reason for anything that affects the show or makes you all late. You did fine without me before. It’s not like I will be any help now.”

“Things have changed, Y/n. You made contact with San-ah and Seonghwa-hyung, meaning the soul-bonding has started with the two of them and yourself,” interjects Yeosang.

Ignoring Jongho’s not-so-silent scoffing, Hongjoong adds, “Once a soul-bonding starts in a group, it is fragile until the rest of the group bonds. It doesn’t finalize until everyone accepts it though.”

“You mean she has to follow you around now? Until everyone accepts her and vice versa?” asks Kat. “How will that work and not end up all over Dispatch or TMZ?”

“I can help with that, Miss Kat,” a young man says, stepping up from the corner dressed like he should be attending a kind of Paramore concert. “I am Mathew and I have been assigned to you three as a personal bodyguard for the remainder of your trip.”

“Excuse me?” questions Kat, their eyes looking the man up and down with confusion.

“I will explain later, Kat, before we leave the hotel,” intervenes Cindy. “How can you help?”

Mathew looks to Hongjoong and Seonghwa and then turns to their manager. “Tonight, I was supposed to have the night to watch the concert from the crowd. If we could get tickets for the three of them seated with me, we could attend the concert and reduce the distance between them all.”

“She would have to be closer than she was last night since the bonding has started,” adds Mingi. “Since we cannot have her on stage with us and hiding her backstage will pull the three of us in the wrong direction, she will have to be practically stage side like the photographers or VVIP.”

Nodding, Hwa speaks up, “Y/n, I know that this is probably more than you ever thought you have to deal with, but after tonight’s concert, we don’t have to be at the next stop until Thursday morning. We could sleep on it and talk in the morning?”

Seonghwa’s eyes are imploring and sweet in their gaze, while Jongho’s gaze is cold and calculating behind him. They watch your eyes bounce between them, your hesitation clear as day on your face. Ultimately, you look away from them, which deflates Hwa’s heart. 

“I'm sorry, but we really must leave,” their manager quietly says. “What do you ladies want to do?”

“We will go to the concert tonight,” decides Cindy. “I think it has been a lot and it has all happened a bit too fast.” 

Looking to Hongjoong, Cindy continues, “Let us talk to her, just us, and we will see you at the concert or afterward. If you could have someone show us our room for tonight we could talk about things till you want us to go to the concert?”

“Mathew-ssi, please?” orders Captain but nods to Cindy. He was right that their new soulmate isn’t hearing anything right now, but then again, who would? Especially not after everything the new soulmate has been through.

Ateez remains quiet as they watch Mathew and a few other guards escort you, Cindy, and Kat out of the conference room. 

“You have 10 minutes, then we have to leave,” says their manager before exiting to ensure everything is settled with the hotel.

Once the door is shut, all hell breaks loose among the members.

San is glaring and calling Jongho out for disregarding the new soulmate, to which Jongho defends that it doesn’t make sense, and Wooyoung is trying his best to keep them from actually getting into it.

Yunho tries to talk Mingi into staying in the room and not trying to start the bond before the concert, but Mingi swears it will help him concentrate better if he can connect through the bond with you.

Yeosang is watching everything fall apart at the seams as he holds on to each of his soulmate's mooring lines and your plaited silk line to ensure that none of them start to unravel. Tensions haven’t been this high for the eight-membered bond for a long time.

Hongjoong is lost in his own world, trying to figure out how this works. It’s clear to him that you are theirs. Your reactions to them in the parking garage were enough to dispel any thoughts of doubt from his mind. 

As Captain, he knows Jongho has dealt with lies and broken promises the most out of them all, so it is no surprise that their little bear has his paws out and is swinging. However, right now is not the right time for his insecurities to come out, but who can control what they feel when it comes to stuff like this? 

A broken hiccup is heard between all the voices, snapping everyone’s attention to Seonghwa, who has been sitting there motionless, staring at the door where you left. 

“Hwa-hyung,” calls Jongho with heaviness as he realizes their intense emotions overwhelm the eldest soulmate. He was too caught up in his argument with San to help keep everyone more level-headed because he doesn’t feel very level-headed right now, either.

“She felt it,” Seonghwa says, his voice wrought with pain and helplessness. His hands grasp the bottom of his shirt, wringing it tightly as he tries to sort everything running through his mind and heart.

Wooyoung kneels in front of Hwa, using his sleeve to dry the tears that have covered the elder's cheeks, “Felt what, hyung?”

“Y/n,” he starts before glancing at each of his soulmates. “She felt him die.”

Deafening silence encompasses the room, soulmates, and the remaining bodyguards taken back by this fact. Pulling Hwa’s hands from their current destruction of the shirt, Wooyoung holds them tight with comfort. “Hyung, what do you mean?”

“She said that her ability was the same as mine. She feels emotions, which means if this Darren guy was her bonded soulmate and he was murdered as Cindy said, then Y/n would have felt it,” Seonghwa almost whispers, his eyes searching his imagination, trying to fathom what that would feel like or do to a person.

The feeling of a soulmate bond breaking from being rejected or denied feels like a permanent emptiness, but a bond breaking because of a death is heard to be like your body being engulfed in fire. It is well known that soulmates tend to pass away together because the loss of one is too much for the other to handle without permanent crippling damage. 

The newer bonds are even more susceptible to extreme emotions. The mind and body must find a way to adjust to everything, and what is felt is already heightened, so distance between two bonding soulmates is not advised. But to have been granted the ability of your soulmate’s emotions, the immense or overwhelming feeling of the bond snapping into place, and then to feel the pain and life drain from that soulmate is beyond words. 

“Maybe that explains why her bond mark looks so ragged,” San wonders aloud. “I always thought they were supposed to be pretty.”

Standing slowly, Hongjoong says, “We don’t know what she felt or didn’t feel, and it will be up to Y/n to tell us more if she wants to. I don’t think this is a topic that we should push for details unless we have to.”

The rest of the boys nod in agreement, even Jognho, as he avoids the looks he is still getting from San. “Joong-hyung, how are we supposed to perform tonight?”

“I say we do just as Y/n asked. We need to be there for Atiny. We are Idols for a reason,” Hongjoong says, with no room for a counter.

“Can we wear the dark knight costumes for the opening act? And maybe the purple velvet too?” asks Yeosang. “I think with what we learned tonight the black would be appropriate and the purple might bring a smile to Y/n’s face.”

A soft smile forms on Hongjoong as he agrees, “That would be a nice gesture and besides we can’t wear the same thing as yesterday anyways.”

The ride to BMO was another Ateez-sardine-packed van. No one wanted to be left alone, but for San and Seonghwa, it was the only way to get them to leave the hotel. The ride was short and quiet. 

At arrival, the touring staff knew something was off with Ateez, but no one had the guts to ask what had happened in the last 24 hours. They had been around the group long enough to know they kept tight-lipped regarding internal issues. 

The wardrobe noonas were informed of the change requested for the costumes and quickly complied because the sad eyes and pouty faces of Yeosang and Seonghwa were not to be turned down. 

To say Ateez was distracted would also be an understatement. The make-up noonas or stagehands often had to call the members multiple times before they would snap out of their haze. The disconnect from how Ateez was before even caused some questions from the BMO event staff, but the touring team quickly found ways to reassure the BMO event staff that everything was fine, even if they didn’t know if it was true themselves. 

Once Hongjoong noticed his members' mental and emotional capacity for interaction was nonexistent, he tried to answer everything and guide the pre-show craziness away from his bonded soulmates. He knew there was a better time to unpack everything with each of them. There was only a short amount of time before Atiny was expecting them. It was his time to take his role as Captain seriously and stand strong for his soulmates, including you.

Seonghwa needed his makeup reapplied several times because he could not stop the tears from falling. The empathetic looks he got from the KQ team almost made it worse because they thought it was all for his grandfather when, in truth, it was for you.

Yunho felt a little lost in how to help. He agreed that you were a soulmate. He felt it in his bones that they were your second-chance soulmates. He also is abundantly aware of how much of a fairy-tale that sounds like, especially to Jongho. He also knows that he has heard of it happening, but he can’t remember who it happened with to save his life.

While Yeosang is typically the ‘baby girl’ and sunshine of Ateez, he also has the potential to be a member of the demon line, which is showing now. His face has taken on the resting bitch-face mode, not because he is mad at anyone but because he is concentrated on the soulmate lines. He is concerned about how his bonded soulmate's demeanor has changed and wants to know the moment you are nearby. He is unsettled because he can no longer feel the plaited silk line, and it is starting to feel like ants under his skin.

San is about to have his hyungs knock some sense into him because he acts more like a feral dog than a human at the moment. Out of all the bonded soulmates, San expresses emotions physically. It is one of the reasons why he took up working out and getting buff. He wanted to be able to protect his soulmates, but he also wanted to find ways to get out his aggression or libido without driving the loves of his life into the ground. Right now, he has decided to turn whatever he can find into a personal mini-gym in the guise of getting himself pumped up for a second night.

Unsurprisingly, the shorter of the two giants has secluded himself from everyone and everything. Mingi mentioned to his twin that he would be in the small room he found backstage to ‘settle himself,’ as he put it. In all actuality, Mingi was researching soulmate bonds, second-chance mates, bonding marks or scars, and one-sided soulmate bonds.

As an ESFJ, Wooyoung could see that his introverted Captain was stressing himself out, dealing with everything as if he was alone, and decided to help. Don’t get it wrong, Wooyoung was still processing everything but was good at multitasking. His ability to be social, talk someone’s ear off, and get things done while not breaking a sweat was something that most of the world found endearing. Right now, for him, it was emotionally draining when all he wanted to do was get San off the low-hanging rafter he was using like a pull-up bar and cuddle up until he could initiate the soul bonding with you.

Jongho focused on vocal warm-ups and paced anywhere that kept him away from San, Mingi, and, well, pretty much anyone else. He knew what he said in the conference room was wrong but didn’t want to get hurt again. Moreover, he doesn’t want his bonded soulmates to put too much into something that may end up causing damage in the long run. He is already beside himself because two of his hyungs have already started a soul bond with someone who hasn’t even once expressed that this is something that she wants. 

“Soundcheck is in 5, then BE:FIRST is up,” the leading stage manager shouts.

Looking at his soulmates, Hongjoong needs to figure something out to get them out of their funk.

“She is here!” Yeosang exclaims, springing up from his seat with the biggest smile. “She came. I think they are pulling up because it’s moving too fast for her to walk.”

Seonghwa and San close their eyes and lean into the bond they started with you, which pulses ever so faintly. Both members smile softly, and the tension within their bodies melts. The bond the two have with you is more solid than ever. You may not have verbally agreed or accepted their bond yet, but whatever your friends discussed with you has kept you from at least rejecting it. 

A few seconds later, Mingi swings open the door to his hiding room and jogs to the slowly forming group, “She is here and is in pain still. Are there seats with her ticket? Can she still see us if she sits?”

“Relax, Mingi-ah,” Seonghwa says, pulling the tall one into a hug. “I am sure Mathew-ssi and manager-nim have everything under control. We can look for her during soundcheck and if we see anything needs to be done, there is still time. Okay?”

Nodding, Mingi smiles at Yunho and glances at Jongho, noting that the youngest also has a half smile. Mingi’s heart squeezes slightly at the thought that Jongho is more on board with you being a soulmate than he is letting on. 

“Ateez, it’s time,” says their manager, walking up to the circle they have naturally formed. Holding a hand up, he smiles and quietly says, “She is in the VVIP Section downstage right along the start of bridge with her companions, Mathew, Ji-ho, and Ha-Joon. They should find their seats soon. Now, please, I know it won’t be easy, but show her that she isn’t going to hinder your career but that you know she is there.”

Catching his arm before he walks away, San asks, “Did she say something, manager-nim?”

Looking around at the staff milling around, the manager leans in, “Mathew sent me a text while they were in their hotel room, mentioning that it seems to be one of the more prominent points of conflict for Y/n. She almost didn’t come.”

“She almost didn’t come?” Hwa asks again to double-check that he heard correctly.

The manager nods with a frown, but the next second, he smiles brightly when a stagehand comes up to mumble something in his ear. “Thank you,” he says to the stagehand before looking back at the group. “She is seated. Be yourselves. It’s soundcheck time.”

As the manager walks off, the soulmates look at each other. Hoongjoong steps toward the center, “We can do this. We can perform for Atiny. We can perform for Y/n. She is with us. Eight make 1 team, but nine make a family, and I have no intention of allowing Y/n to worry that she is anything but a blessing to our bond. Who is with me?”

Going on stage, the boys greet the Atinys, who are able to get special tickets for the show. It took everything for them not to make a beeline for the section you were in. They had discussed it as they walked to the stage to keep the same placements as the night before. 

However, Seonghwa, San, and Mingi couldn’t help but look for you immediately. Their hearts beat fast as they searched the crowd of screaming fans, only to have it skip a beat or three when they finally found you. 

You had dolled up a bit by adding some light makeup, put your hair up in a half-up, half-down style, and were wearing their tour hoodie from their Break The Wall Tour last year.

Mingi ended up pointing and waving to you, and the Atiny around you got excited at the idols' attention to their section. They smiled when they saw you shy away from their attention as you looked around momentarily before joining in the smiles and waves.

Hongjoong pulls the members forward to greet Atiny with their step out, asks some basic questions to engage the fans, and then gets the soundcheck on the road. Since this is their second show, the sound check is just for Atiny, as nothing needs to be adjusted. They start by running through Dreamy Day and Work. The members aren’t doing the full-out choreography, but each member can’t seem to go through a whole song without dancing some part of it.

When it comes time for the last soundcheck song, Hongjoong has noticed that you know some of the moves to the songs but are doing them more or less to yourself because everyone else around you is focused on singing or recording them. Wanting to give you a chance to dance, Hongjoong pulls out his Captain’s card.

“Wow,” he exclaimed. One thing I have noticed is we have a lot of good singers out here, but do you all know how to dance?” The crowd went wild as usual. Glancing over at you, Hongjoong and Yeosang noticed you were screaming along with them.

“Let’s see… Seonghwa,” the captain pulls the eldest soulmate’s attention, “Do you think you can show a little move of the next song?”

Smiling, Hwa moves forward a bit, saying, “I think Atiny really loves this move.” Rolling his hips with an outward fist, he pulls off the most basic version of the driving dance from Say My Name, causing all of Atinies present to go even wilder. As he turns, moving back to his space, his eyes land on you and note that you are moving along with him, making him smile even more. 

Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung look slightly irritated at the Captain for asking Atiny to dance because they are concerned that if you knew the song's moves, you would aggravate your injured ankle. Yunho turns in time to catch you moving along with Seonghwa and shakes his head. 

San has decided that avoiding the side of the stage you are on is best and looks the other way. He tries to keep Atiny happy and clueless about their internal struggles as they fall into their Idol mindset. 

The rest of Ateez do their best to fill in the gaps, moving around the stage and ensuring that all of Atiny gets attention. Yeosang still finds time to sneak you a smile or a wink, while Jongho mostly sticks to the middle of the stage. His internal excuse is his need to focus on the notes when he is actually trying to control his fear of showing because he knows there will be so many uploads of this to YouTube before the show even starts.

Once the song starts, the bonded soulmates kick in gear and dance to it at about 50% energy because it is just a soundcheck. Mingi is the least active of all the members as he goes through the motions but doesn’t change his level or hit extensions for several reasons. He is still feeling your pain, and he is too busy watching you under his sunglasses to ensure you don’t overdo it. 

By the song's end, the eight members have pumped themselves up as much as possible for the show. Pulling some last-minute screams and cheers from the crowd, the boys do one more step up and head backstage to prepare for the opening song. 

Each member, even Jongho, finds you in the crowd before they leave the stage to let you know that they are aware you are here and satisfy their worries about you enjoying a second night at their show. 

When Seonghwa can peel his eyes off of your form in the multitude of Atiny, he jogs down the ramp and right to his makeup chair because he knows that he will be the quickest to fix since his skin is naturally smooth and doesn’t need much attention. His mind is right; he is focused on this performance being for you, showing you that he can simultaneously be an idol and your soulmate.

Mingi, however, was the first off-stage and immediately went to their manager. “Manager-nim?” he interrupts. “Can you send something to her and her friends for me?

The manager’s face has a sly smile as he teases, “Let me guess Mingi bias merch package.”

Grinning with the tips of his ears turning red, he says, “She has San stuff on her bag, and I don’t know what she might have gotten yesterday other than our tour sleeveless tank, but I noticed she wasn’t wearing our tour sweater.”

“Yeah, she was wearing one from last year,” Jongho comments. 

“So you do notice her!” Yeosang says, poking the youngest’s side, which earns him a glare before Jongho moves to the wardrobe area. Turning back to Mingi, Yeo asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am asking manager-nim if he can send a merch package to Y/n,” answers the giant. 

“Mingi-ssi and Yeosang-ssi, the VIP sections already will be getting a clear drawstring bag, postcard set, portable charger with flashlight, fan, and deck of gold-embossed playing cards. What else would she need from you?” asks their manager.

“A newer sweater? She had on last year's tour sweater on. I hope she wasn’t at one of the shows last year,” answers Yeosang, causing the manager to look confused.

Tilting his head like the answer is clear as day, Yeosangs explains, “If she was at an earlier show and we didn’t feel her at that show…”

“Then it is going to be that much harder to convince her that she is really ours at this show,” says San, finishing Yeosang’s thoughts and seeing the understanding come to the manager. 

“That… she had to have gotten it from a store. There is no way we wouldn’t have felt her before now, especially Hyung,” Mingi says with deep determination. Turning back to the manager, he says, “Add a beanie and a sweater to the VIP bag, please?”

The manager nods, pulling out his phone to text the request to the merch handlers to bring over before he gets a tap on his shoulder. Looking back at Mingi with a questioning face, Mingi’s ears get redder as he leans closer to whisper his request, “umm… can you add my picket so she knows who it’s from?”

Shaking his head, the manager adds the Mingi picket to the request list and shows it to the blushing Ateez member before he sends it over. “Mingi-ssi, Mathew will let me know when she gets it. I will also make sure her two friends get the VIP bag so she doesn’t stand out too much.”

“Oh, smart thinking. Maybe send a beanie to them, too. It’s supposed to be a cold night, and those two are important to Y/n, which means they are important to us,” smiles Mingi. 

“Got it, now go! You have only five minutes before you have to be in position,” playfully scolds the manager. The sounds of BE:First, they finally reach Mingi’s ears, and off he goes to get ready to show the world that he is ready for everything the world has to throw at him—including you.

Making it through the concert's start was just like any other concert. Atiny was screaming, singing, dancing, and bringing enough energy to light up the whole city from BMO alone. Even the BBTRIPPIN members seemed extra sharp and high-voltage for tonight’s show.

Seonghwa and San could feel your bond thrum to the music as you got lost in being at the concert. After the first few songs, the two shared a look as they went backstage during a scene change.

“Do you feel that?” asked San.

Smiling, Seonghwa answered, “So it wasn’t just me. You can feel it when she changes with each song right?”

San nods while Seonghwa hops in place. “This means we can learn which songs she likes the most. This feeling was stronger during Say My Name and Work, right?”

“What was stronger?” asks Mingi with his hands on his hips, trying to figure out why they are so happy. 

“Y/n, with the bond, we can tell which songs she reacts to,” explains Hwa. “We felt it during the soundcheck and again with Guerrilla. I think it’s when she knows or likes the songs.”

Looking at San, Mingi asks, “You can feel it, too?”

“Yeah, but it isn’t enough to distract us or anything,” answers San. “I wonder which song will be her favorite?”

Hearing their cue with the pop-locking music for their traveling dance crew, the three find their positions for the next series of songs. Yeo, Woo, Captain, and Yunho are already waiting with the makeup noonas fussing over minor makeup corrections. San barely makes it in time for his solo dance entrance as the rest ready their capes. 

When it comes time for the opening-ments, they each greet Atiny like they did the night before, but when they mention the night before or being happy for a second night, the soulmates can’t help but look your way because, to them, you are the deciding factor of just how great this stop will be. The only downside is none of them can see you past the glaring lights shining on them. Seonghwa and San are the only ones who have any indication that you are enjoying the show.

The show goes smoothly without any hiccups. 

Mingi sees you waving his picket during his solo rap, letting him know his little care package was received. The smile on your face and the lack of pain he feels is the only evidence he has that you are in a good place right now. 

Yeosang feels an extra pull from you at the start of It’s You, which makes him almost break character and laugh. He is well aware of how much Atiny enjoys that song, and it certainly isn’t for the melody. The lyrics and how they can now relate to you make him want to laugh. At that point, he decides to sing this song for you, to you, and about you.

Yunho, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, and Jongho are doing their best to be present. Keep their minds from wandering about how you are doing, what you talked about with your friends, and what will happen tomorrow. 

It’s about halfway through the show when Jongho is singing his solo, and he somehow sees you in the crowd. Your eyes are drilling into him. Knowing that he can sing this song in his sleep, he closes his eyes and reaches out to you with his ability, testing the waters to see if he can feel anything from you. 

It’s like a water spout comes, throwing him into a whirlwind of emotions as his ability pulls them into himself. The ability to absorb is devouring the confusion, shame, anxiety, uncertainty, and heartache coming from you. Walking down the stairs at the end of his song, he can’t help but find you again as his heart flutters, and he can no longer fight against it– you are his ladymate.

Walking backstage, Jungho collapses into Seonghwa’s awaiting arms. The suddenness pulls them both to the ground, causing everyone but Wooyoung to run to their side. Kneeling around the youngest, they hear him mumbling something as he gasps deep, uneven breaths. 

“San, get his wardrobe change. Joong-ah and Mingi-ah get everyone not bonded away. Yun, he needs an anchor,” Seonghwa calls out directions. Looking directly at Wooyoung, Hwa nods slowly, saying, “He will be fine. Go out for your solo; we will be there on time.”

Leaning down into Jongho’s face, Hwa can see that he isn’t crying but is within himself. Passing him to Yunho, Hwa steps back, looks toward Hongjoong with a frown, and says, “I think he may have finally found his connection to her but it isn’t a happy one.”

A few more seconds pass as the soulmates watch their big bear bring their little bear back into the present. Jongho’s breathing stabilizes, and the mumbled words stop before he looks around and finds San. 

Standing up and rushing to the older soulmate, Jongho hugs him and says, “I am so sorry, Hyung. I wanted to keep us safe. I didn’t want to fight with you, but she was empty. It was like she was hollow, and now I know why. She has walls, so many walls.”

Hearing the music change, they all jump as the time between sets runs out, and Hongjoong steps forward, asking, “Are you okay with continuing?”

“Yeah,” answers the youngest soulmate. “I got this. If she can live with that for who knows how long, I can live with it for the rest of tonight. Yunnie-hyung’s anchor helped.”

The rest of the show becomes a blur, as always. Heightened emotions, the heartfelt ending-ments, and the encore all come too fast as the second night in LA comes to a close. However, the night isn’t over for Ateez as they still have to go through their send-off, head back to the hotel, and see where the night takes them.

Jongho is peering through the cracks that give him the slighted view of where you would have to pass to be seated for the send-off when the manager's voice comes from behind, “She won’t be there.”

Spinning around, Jongho exclaims, “What do you mean?! She left?!” Jongho’s voice carried enough to draw the attention of the others, who were now approaching the two with variations of concern.

“No, she didn’t leave. I can still feel her line, she has to be close,” answers Yeosang. “Where is she going though?”

“For her safety, she is going to one of the vans with her friends and their security team,” informs the manager.

Ease falls over the bonded soulmates, each loving you just a little more for your desire to be fair and considerate to others you don’t know. Hongjoong says, “Then let us not keep our Atiny waiting and get through the send-off like we always do. Once we are done, we will go back to the hotel. San, Seonghwa, and Jongho should ride with Y/n and her friends. The rest of us will go in the other van, and security can take their regular positions.”

Making their way through the send-off feels like the longest part of the night but is, in all truth, shorter than the soundcheck. Atiny are smiling, laughing, snapping pictures, and getting autographs from their bias. Unknown to them, their bias is only focused on the Atiny soulmate in the van at the end of the long line of endless people. 

Hongjoong, Mingi, Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang enter the first van. Their energies are still bubbling with the adrenaline of another completed show. Are they exhausted? Yes, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t buzzing. 

“How do you think she liked the show tonight?” asked Mingi. “I know people follow us like roadies on tours, but she hadn’t planned on going to both shows.”

Running his hand along Mingi’s arm, Yunho teasingly says, “She was enjoying herself. I could see her waving your face around like she was trying to extinguish a fire.” A warm blush graces Mingi’s face.

“She did seem to enjoy her care package, Mingi,” adds Hongjoong. His mind is trying to find a way to see into the van behind them. He wants to know where you are at now. Have you started to accept them? All of them? 

Is that why Jongho was able to collect your emotions? Is that why Hwa and San were mumbling about your reactions to songs? Is that why you decided to come tonight?

Curling into his soulmate’s side, Wooyoung whispers into Yeosang’s ear, “Hyung, did you see her smile during your dance? She couldn’t take her eyes off you. She practically ignored me and San during ‘It's You’.” 

Woo knows how easily flustered Yeo can get despite his on-stage persona. However, all the bonded soulmates know how passionate he can get behind closed doors. Placing a soft kiss at the dip behind Yeosang’s ear, Wooyoung comments, “May be she would enjoy a private dance?”

Blushing and biting his bottom lip, Yeosang nods. The thought of you accepting them and allowing for moments like that spike his emotions. The plaited silk rope tugged his chest the more he thought about giving you that private dance. He is happy that you are not in the same van right now. He is known for his control, but at the same time, he knows that soulmates with fated birthing dates have a unique bond, and he cannot wait to explore where that leads the two of you. 

A soft growl is heard as Hongjoong’s eyes close with his deep breath. “Yeo, baby, your scent is warming. As much as we are all on an energy high, we can’t do that right now. We have more pressing matters.”

Jabbing Wooyoung in the ribs and muttering playful threats, Yeosang apologizes to his leader, “I am sorry, hyung. I will be good. I don’t want to mess any of this up.”

“Speaking of messing things up,” interrupts Yunho. “Do you think Jongho is okay now? Will the two of them be able to work things through now? He is on board now, right?”

“I hope so. It’s one of the reasons why I had him go in her van. It will give them time to talk or feel each other out,” explains Hongjoong. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

When they arrived, the hotel garage was practically empty; however, that was not the case, and they were now a skeleton crew of makeup, wardrobe, and sound team running around. While parking, Wooyoung received a text from San telling him to bring everyone to the ballroom.

Spotting San pacing near a side entry, Hongjoong all but stormed over to him, “What is going on?”

“She didn’t get to see her favorite song,” answered San, like that explained everything. 

Watching the controlled chaos around them, over half of Ateez was still lost. Soon, the door behind San opened, and Seonghwa and Jongho, dressed in purple costumes, and their manager came out. Confusion still graced Wooyoung and Mingi’s faces as the light of realization dawned on Hongjoong, Yunho, and Yeosang. 

“Are we changing in there? Where is she?” asked Yeosang, already moving into the small impromptu green room. 

“She is in her room. Her young friend Kat knows Korean, apparently, and helped us plan this. We don’t have much time,” answers Hwa, pushing the rest of his soulmates to get ready. “We have a show to perform.”

Letting out a laugh, Wooyoung rushes after Yeosang, yelling, “Hey, you might get to do that private dance afterall!”

“Is this a good idea?” asks Mingi. 

Pulling his gentle giant along, Hongjoong says, “We won’t know until the end. Until then, she should see that being our soulmate means that while we are Idols who perform for the world to see, our eyes are only on her.”

“Gag. That was gag-worthy, and we still need to sing, hyung,” Jongho says, rolling his eyes at the producer. “Now, please, go get ready.”

Getting ready, the tour team kept their lips sealed and didn’t outwardly ask why they were doing this sudden mini-show, but then again, their contracts have a very detailed NDA that came with a hefty bonus when something soulmate-related happened. 

Seonghwa, San, and Jongho explained that they found out you had missed seeing them perform one of your favorite songs both nights in a row, and you were sad that there was a song they didn’t perform. It was Jongho’s idea to do the mini-show for you so that you would be content and happy when you went to sleep. 

They had a set list ready and would sing to their instrumental or acapella. The boys are ready and waiting in the darkened ballroom with nerves stronger than anything they have felt in a long time. It’s a good thing; they have all agreed because they want you to be theirs more than anything else. 

“Ready on stage,” whisper, shouts their temporary stage manager.

It’s maybe ten seconds later that the ballroom door opens, and the sound of your laughter spills in as you walk in, looking behind you, saying, “You would have thought Yunho was doing more than dancing on the stage with how loudly she was losing her shit over him standing there.”

When you face the front, you freeze at seeing the single chair in the ballroom lit by a spotlight. The bonded soulmates can see you try to squint to see in the darkness before you turn back to see your two friends and their manager standing just inside the door. 

“Remember everything we talk about in the hotel room,” smiles Cindy. “Dave completes me. You deserve to be complete, too.”

Your friend Kat walks forward, taking you by the hand, and they guide you to the chair. “Eight of them can be overwhelming, but I believe each holds a piece of your soul that you lost when it shattered.”

“I have known these boys for more than anyone else, and I have never seen a more dedicated soulmate group in my life, Miss Y/n,” their manager adds. “Listen with your heart to what they have planned.”

With that, the three left the ballroom. The lights went out, and it was time for the boys to convey their longing for you to accept their bond and give them a chance. 

Stepping to his microphone stand, Mingi starts singing an acapella version of Star 1117 as the floor lights come up. He focuses his eyes on you as he pours his soul into his words. Hongjoong and he know they wrote the song for Atiny. The title lends to the day the name Atiny was picked out and focuses on looking to the stars for love. It’s Ateez’s wish that they can look to you as their star in love and you can trust them to protect you forever as their star.

The next song starts sounding through the ballroom speakers as the members pull their microphones off and gather closer to you. Seonghwa takes the middle with Jongho as they serenade you with Light. Jongho, who wasn’t on board in the first place, uses this song to express he finally has realized that the nine of you are meant to be one.

By this time, the boys can see you are fighting back tears. Seonghwa and San feel the energy flowing through your partial bond with them, making it harder for them to finish the song without crying. Yeosang can feel your plaited silk rope pull and release as you sway to the song. He has felt it before, but now it’s almost as if he can see it linking the two of you. 

Quick steps are made as the eight Idols find their place before an upbeat synthesizer starts. Yunho starts the song with a smile when he sees your eyes light up. They haven’t performed this song in a while, but the bonded soulmates wanted to perform their song Promise because it is their promise never to leave you alone. It made their hearts light when they would notice you mouthing along with the words, doing the hand choreography, or wiping a straying teardrop from your cheek.

It was time for the final song, and the squeal you let out once they got into their starting positions made Wooyoung and Hongjoong chuckle. It was a song that Atiny took many different ways, but for the situation between the nine of you, it was about having you get out of the cold and darkness of being alone in the world and allowing Ateez to become your warmth and light.

The moment your friend announced the day your life came to a screeching halt was the first time since they found you in the garage that you finally had no eyes on you. While it gave you a chance to breathe, it also felt odd. 

Taking the chance to look around, you notice the shock on their faces as they stare at Cindy like she has grown another head. Clearly, the news of your past was not what they expected to hear. It’s rare to hear of someone having a dead soulmate and living to tell the tale. 

“I know this may seem like a stupid question, but” Jongho starts to speak before he is interrupted by Wooyoung.

“No, no. Let’s start with a non-stupid question… what do you mean Y/n has a soulmate already?” asks the worldwide playboy. 

Looking at Cindy and Kat, you beg them with your eyes not to be the one to explain what happened. A wave of guilt, heartache, and failure is starting to crush your chest. It had been a while since you had thought about the events of that day. 

It’s Kat who finally starts telling the beginning of your devastating story. You resign to an understanding that the eight men around you will change their thoughts of being your soulmates if they know all the details. 

“Darren Donahue. Y/n and Darren were instant friends when she transferred to our school in the middle of 3rd grade. They were inseparable all through the rest of elementary school and into high school,” says Kat.

Your mind supplements Kat’s regaling with images of Darren with his natural blonde hair in a cut like Jonathan Taylor Thomas from Home Improvement. His almond-shaped crystal-blue eyes always held his emotions clearer than the night sky. He was always shorter than you, but that was his appeal to you. He was pocket-sized, and although short, he held a strength that could rival anyone, especially if you were in danger. Unfortunately, that determination was his ultimate weakness. 

“After growing up with soulmates as parents,” Kat continues. “I had an innate understanding of how to spot soulbonds or possibilities. It was resoundingly clear that there was a potential bond between them. Darren was a year older than Y/n when he turned 18 and could finally connect with his soulmate if he had one… but he never even looked.”

“Darren had asked Y/n’s mom to take her out for her 18th birthday. By that time, he had told several of us that his heart knew she would be his,” said Cindy as she squeezed your thigh. “All of us were supportive because we all agreed. Sure, there was a chance that we were all wrong. Ever since… we kind have wished we were.”

All you could do was shrink under the weight of the words Cindy left unsaid. You can remember happily agreeing to dinner at Caza De Pizza and catching ‘Now You See Me 2’ afterward. The movie was set to be over right around midnight. You were so excited to see if you and your family were correct in thinking that Darren was your soulmate. Now you wish you had waited to find out at school on Wednesday morning. 

Your dark thoughts are interrupted when Hongjoong calls your name, asking, “Y/n, how did you know that Darren was your soulmate? Did you bond?” 

Nodding, you put up your arm and rest it on the table to show a long, lightening-like, ragged scar running along your inner elbow from the middle of your forearm to just above your elbow. “He was with me at midnight when I turned 18. I gained my soulmate ability to feel emotions right away, but I don’t know what he was because we never got to...” your voice cuts out as the ghost of his death engulfs your body.

It wasn’t just the pain of his death that haunted you but the joy of seeing your soulmate mark form on your arm as proof that you were his. The avalanche of love, devotion, passion, and pride came with it, and you quickly realized it wasn’t just your emotions but also Darren’s. 

However, those happy feelings lasted for about five seconds before you were shoved to the side, and a piercing pain tore through your chest that caused you to look up from the mark to watch as blood pooled from his chest. Your memories of that night are always silent, never hearing the gunfire, the screams of you and the witnesses, and the lost words mumbling from Darren’s lips as the burn of a soulmate dying floods your system at his last breath.

San's rapid movement brings you back to the present as he practically growls at his manager, “We can’t leave her right now. It won’t be suitable for any of us. Things are already strained as they are.”

With an epic side eye given to you from Jongho, he says, “San-hyung, we don’t understand what is happening. It could be stress and timing that is causing all of this.” 

It didn’t surprise you that one of them was already against you, adding to their well-rounded soulmate bond after it had been formed for years. What shocks you is that San looks like he is about to start a round of fisticuffs with his already-bonded soulmate.

“Excuse me?!!?” demands San, turning his attention to Jongho. 

This isn’t good. Fighting isn’t good for bonds, much less for a world-famous K-pop band that must leave to perform for thousands of fans like they did last night. “Go,” you say with as much strength as you can.

Looking briefly at San as he stares down the youngest member, you try to explain, “You need to be there for Atiny tonight just like you were there for us last night. I cannot be the reason for anything that affects the show or makes you all late. You did fine without me before. It’s not like I will be any help now.”

A slight tug on your chest comes before Yeosang says, “Things have changed, Y/n. You made contact with San-ah and Seonghwa-hyung, meaning the soul-bonding has started with the two of them and yourself.”

Jongho scoffs at Yeosang’s explanation of how the bond is forming. Hongjoong adds, “Once a soul-bonding starts in a group, it is fragile until the rest of the group bonds. It doesn’t finalize until everyone accepts it, though.”

“You mean she has to follow you around now? Until everyone accepts her and vice versa?” asks Kat. “How will that work and not end up all over Dispatch or TMZ?”

“I can help with that, Miss Kat,” a young man says, stepping up from the corner dressed like he got caught up in the group and doesn’t belong in this meeting. “I am Mathew and I have been assigned to you three as a personal bodyguard for the remainder of your trip.”

“Excuse me?” exclaims Kat. This new guy has already made the mistake of calling Kat a miss, but the question is, why would we need security?

“I will explain later, Kat, before we leave the hotel,” intervenes Cindy, always the mediator. “How can you help?”

Watching the young man as he thinks, you can’t help but notice how much presence he does have. His clothes may make him look like the Emo Guy USA 2024 winner, but you think it is a perfect disguise for someone to be undercover at a concert. 

“Tonight, I was supposed to have the night to watch the concert from the crowd,” the non-security-security guy starts. “If we could get tickets for the three of them seated with me, we could attend the concert and reduce the distance between them all.”

“She would have to be closer than she was last night since the bonding has started,” Mingi says. “Since we cannot have her on stage with us and hiding her backstage will pull the three of us in the wrong direction, she will have to be practically stage side like the photographers or VVIP.”

This is going to be too much. You can’t suddenly have VVIP tickets. Those are limited to the number of seats available. You are about to say something when Seonghwa says, “Y/n, I know that this is probably more than you ever thought you have to deal with, but after tonight’s concert, we don’t have to be at the next stop until Thursday morning. We could sleep on it and talk in the morning?”

Seonghwa’s boba eyes look hopeful and endearing as he waits for your answer, but the ice shooting from Jongho's death stare behind him keeps any words from making it past your throat. Understanding the need to answer your elders, you want to answer. However, the desire to not cause more conflict between the bonded soulmates causes you to turn away from the two.

“I'm sorry, but we really must leave,” their manager quietly says. “What do you ladies want to do?”

“We will go to the concert tonight. I think it has been a lot, and it has all happened a bit too fast,” Cindy answers for the three of you. “Let us talk to her, just us, and we will see you at the concert or afterward. If you could have someone show us our room for tonight, we could talk about things until you want us to go to the concert.”

“Mathew-ssi, please?” orders Hongjoong. 

As Ateez remains quiet and in the room, Mathew, plus a few other guards, escort you, Cindy, and Kat out of the conference room. A few moments later, their manager joins the small gathered group. 

“If you would follow me,” he asks, guiding you to the lobby. “The boys are all on the same floor, the tour entourage is on the floor below, and the security detail is roomed throughout both floors. The floor the boys are on is completely bought out so we will get you keys to one of those rooms.”

Tugging on Cindy’s sleeve, you shake your head to get her to stop this nonsense. She, however, smiles and turns to the manager. “That would be great! I think we can make do with one room as long as there are two beds.”

“Cindy!” you hiss. Kat takes your arm and pulls you along to the elevator, humming some song with a look of contentment. 

How can Kat look like that when you are going through this!? Why is Cindy letting this go on?! The three of you know this will end badly. They will learn you are damaged goods and realize you are too much to deal with.

“We will wait for you outside,” says the emo boy as he shuts a door. 

Looking around, you noticed you had lost track of time and movement again. You were inside a huge room. It had two queen-sized beds on one side, a walk-in closet, a kitchenette, and a door that you could only assume led to a bathroom that would put yours to shame. 

“Earth to Y/n,” Cindy calls as she sits on one of the couches off to the side with a large TV screen. “What’s going on with that head of yours?”

Making your way to the other couch, you take a moment because where were you? You wanted to run away in the garage but ended up in the conference room. You got lost in what happened all those years ago, and now you were supposed to see night two at BMO stadium with eight Korean Idols claiming to be your soulmate… well, seven.

“I… I don’t know,” you finally answer.

Kat sits beside Cindy before saying, “This isn’t going to be easy, Y/n. Having second-chance soulmates is nearly impossible, but this is a chance for you to be happy again. It’s been eight years since it happened.”

“Yeah, eight years since someone murdered my soulmate instead of me,” you cut in. “Eight years since Darren got shot because they thought it would be a good idea for an initiation. It… it..”

“It also has been eight years since you survived, Y/n,” adds Cindy. “You had the bond, mark, and death of your soulmate happen in less than a minute. It takes a strong person to live through that. It is also a strong person that would be able to handle a bond with eight other people, especially as their focus.”

The thought of being the focus of a bonded soulmate group didn’t even cross your mind. Being a focus was more than just being another soulmate in a bond. The point of a focus was to keep the bond together. If something happened to a group bond’s focus, then…

“Don’t go to the bad things first, Y/n,” Cindy interrupts your spiraling thoughts. “Being a focus isn’t a bad thing. In a typical bond, like Dave and I, we complete each other. What Ateez has is like a ship without a sail; they have all the parts to float and keep their heads above the water, but they need their focus soulmate, you, to set sail and discover what the world has waiting for them.”

“But I am a tattered sail,” you mumble. “I would only flap in the wind like a flag instead of giving them strength to ride the waves. Like, going to the concert tonight… why are we going? If this whole thing is true won’t they be too distracted by the pull to perform right?”

A knock on the wall brings your attention to the personal security guard emo guy. “We have secured your tickets. We will enter with the soundcheck VVIPs for security purposes but leave before the send-off. I took the liberty of obtaining some basic cosmetics and other toiletries if you wanted to be more concert-like. My sister always says concert wear and day wear are two different animals.”

Kat stands up and retrieves the bag from the guy, saying, “Thank you, Mathew. How much time do we have before we have to leave?” 

“About an hour,” he responds before nodding and leaving.

Pawing through the bag, Kat hums in approval. “Well, I think you have men ready to accept fate with arms wide open. This is a chance for you to live how you were supposed to live all those years ago. Besides,” Kat pulls out a pallet of eyeshadows, “if getting Cle de Peau Beaute is considered basic makeup then sign me up in your place. PLLLEEEAAASSSEEE”

You laugh at Kat’s love for expensive things, but it does catch your attention. You may only sometimes be on point with knowing most couture designers, but you were the go-to among your friends and coworkers when it came to makeup, and Cle de Peau Beaute lipstick alone can run over $100. 

The following 45 minutes are spent looking up the prices of what was in the bag, trying not to gag at the $270 1 oz foundation that matched your skin tone, and accepting that you would be treated like something precious.

When the three of you were in yet another van, you didn’t look like you were crying just a few hours ago, and you felt like someone who could afford the VVIP tickets you were being gifted. Mathew, the emo guy, went over some safety things– like he was a friend of Kat’s, but Ji-ho and Ha-Joon were friends of Mathew’s, and no one was supposed to leave the group alone. 

Arriving at BMO was strange because you were brought in what you learned was the artist entry and taken to your seats just as the other VVIPs were being let in for the soundcheck. To the surprise of the three of you, you had excellent front-row seats at the bridge area off the other side of where you were last night. This meant you wouldn’t have to deal with people blocking your view but also that you didn’t have anyone to hide behind.  

“Stop your thinking and enjoy,” scolds Cindy. “They are big boys. They know the difference between work and play. Right now, it’s time for them to work. You’ll see.”

The next moment, you become deaf as the girl behind you cuts loose a scream like she was getting eaten by a shark. Following her line of sight, the boys take the stage, and the world around you narrows to just them. 

First out is the flirt master Wooyoung, in black jeans and a black tank top. San looks like a professor with his dress pants and white button-up. Yeosang follows with blue jeans and a tucked-in tour sleeveless shirt to show off his tiny waist and muscular physique without trying too hard. Jongho looks like he is going to the mall with his dark pants and jean oversized shirt with straps hanging everywhere. Hongjoong is the epitome of the Beverly Hills dad in the world with his cuffed jeans and black and white Art Deco flowered shirt. Yunho went boyfriend-coded with what looks like a Michigan State jacket and baggy pants. Mingi makes your jaw drop in his black-on-black with silver jewelry and looks like the complete fuck boi. Last comes Seonghwa, with his effortless black tee shirt and sand-washed jeans and his hair in a pony, as if he didn’t spend 30 minutes with someone making sure each hair was in the right place. 

The boys go to the bridge and greet the Atinys for the soundcheck. You noticed that Seonghwa, San, and Mingi found you as they went to their places. Only Mingi waved, and the Atiny around you got excited like he just threw money at them. You couldn’t help but blush at his attention because outside of you, Cindy, Kat, Mathew, Ha-Joon, and Ji-ho, no one else knew it was meant for you.   

The soundcheck ended up different from what you expected. They wandered almost aimlessly around, singing songs and waving to the crowd. The choreography wasn’t consistently done. None of the men on the stage could help but move out of muscle memory or get the crowd riled up occasionally. You couldn’t help but sing along to the parts you knew and dance with Kat, your resident K-pop Dance challenge master. 

When the eight gathered again, you figured it was over, and it was time to take your seat. However, Hongjoong seems to have other ideas. “Wow,” he exclaimed. “One thing I have noticed is we have a lot of good singers out here, but do you all know how to dance?” 

The crowd went wild as usual, including you and Kat. You were hoping the next song was one you could dance to without looking like a newborn deer or a lost child. 

“Let’s see… Seonghwa,” the captain calls the eldest soulmate out of the lineup, “Do you think you can show a little move of the next song?”

The other six members' reactions confuse you because they all look like this wasn’t part of the original plan. The stage crew is talking rapidly into walkie-talkies, as Hwa says, “I think Atiny really loves this move.” 

The moment Seonghwa pulls the most stilted version of the driving dance, all of Atiny's present goes even wilder, and the crew starts running around like chickens with no heads. You and Kat move along with him as you try to remember the song's name to which it goes. 

Over the screams, Kat leans into and says, “It’s from Say My Name. Mathew says Captain is going off script by adding this song, which isn’t unusual.” You nod to let Kat know you hear them, and the two of you dance to the song as much as you can since it is one of your favorites. 

When it comes to an end, it is a simple see you later from the boys as they go backstage to get ready for the night. Taking your seat, you look around at how some other Atiny have dressed this time. You are happy that you are at least wearing a tour sweater and got a chance to spruce yourself up. Part of you wished that the boy could have seen you in your pirate-themed outfit from yesterday, but at the same time, you were glad they didn’t.

“Excuse me, are you Miss Y/n?” A man approaches you and is abruptly cut off by Ha-Joon.  Stepping back, the man looks at you and Ha-Joon before continuing, “I was informed that some of our VVIPs didn’t get their exclusive merch bags. Two regular and one special.”

Taking the bags, Ha-Joon has a smirk on his face when he turns around. He hands the two clear bags that match the rest of the VIPs around you to Cindy and Kat, then hands you another that doesn’t match. Kat and Cindy start pulling out tiny things from their bags. The first thing you must pull out of the bag is a new tour hoodie, followed by a matching beanie. Dropping the bag on your seat, you immediately pull off the hoodie you got from Facebook Marketplace and put on the new one.

“Hey, ours didn’t come with those,” teases Kat, pointing at the sweater before she reaches into the bag and pulls out a Mingi picket. “Huh, Seonghwa had better watch his place as your bias because Mr. Song here seems to be starting with the spoiling part.”

You blush at the thought. Sitting down, you take the picket and look at the image of Mingi, remembering his determination during the meeting to keep you close to the eight of them. He hasn’t even touched you to initiate the soulmate bond, but he looks and reacts as if the bond is already complete. Is this what it means to have a soulmate and to be their focus?

You were happy that Be:First opened for Ateez again so you could see them this time. You loved their collaboration. It was a unique way of blending the two groups while keeping them as their own. You didn’t know any of their other songs, so you sat through their set and enjoyed the ebb and flow.

BBTRIPPIN came out and started the show. Because BMO screwed up, you had missed seeing their dance sequence, but it was not surprising how good they were. What surprised you was the Dark Knight costumes the boys wore as they entered the stage. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter at how the color accented their skin tone and made them look like a force to be reckoned with. 

When Crazy Form kicked off, the three of you were on your feet, moving, grooving, and badly singing in Korean. The thoughts of these eight men began to fade into the background. Having the other Atiny with you and seeing how engrossed the bonded group was with their performances, opening-ments, and each other let you remain a fan in the crowd. 

You missed the lingering glances, the minor angle changes, and the special words the boys had meant for you and you alone. You focused more on enjoying the complementary waters and snacks in the bottom of your bags. Luckily, Mathew had also thought ahead and brought you some pain medications. 

What you didn’t miss was the look from the Atiny who saw the extra things in your bag, the teasing smirks from your friends, or the great view of Ateez’s asses during Halazia. While the view was ass-tronomical, you were happiest seeing the musicality flow through their being. 

It’s about halfway through the show when Jongho is singing his solo. You knew his voice was beautiful and underrated by so many before Hongjoong stole him away. Listening to the youngest member of the bonded soulmates' serenade made you think about how hard you cried when you looked up the English translation. You ended up playing it on a loop for days, thinking of how Darren was supposed to be your everything and what you wouldn’t give to see him just once more. 

You couldn't look away as Jongho sang the song from the top of the staircase, expecting the tears to fall again and the darkness to take over. As you watched him, it felt like every negative feeling was being taken away. The turbulence and apprehension from today, the internal ridicule, agony, and disgrace of your past, were just gone.

Watching Jongho walk down the stairs at the end of his song, you know he can see you in the crowd. The look in his eyes isn’t one you have seen from him before. Only Seonghwa, San, and Mingi have looked at you like this, and it makes you want to follow him backstage to learn what it means. Your heart skips a beat as he holds your gaze just a second longer before he turns away. 

The stage lights change and the music starts for Wooyoung’s piece, drawing everyone's attention to the island at the end of the bridge. You, however, are left with a calm sense of emptiness as you watch the stage door. The sounds of the concert are gone, and all that is left is the sound of your heartbeat. It’s the first time that you start to believe that maybe, just maybe– they were right. 

You attempt to enjoy the rest of the show, but you can’t help but study the eight men on the stage. How well they complement each other shows that they must have polarizing abilities. The light in their eyes allows anyone, Atiny or not, to know they are living their dream and not being forced on stage. 

So, where would you fit in as the odd woman out?

“Excuse me, Miss? We have to go to the van now,” Ji-Ho instructs as Atiny starts to make their way out of the stadium. You nod and follow. Kat and Cindy have already figured something must have happened as they can see the wheels turning in your head. 

Mathew comes up to the front with you and explains that for safety reasons, the three of you will not be at the send-off, but due to the strain of having you separate from the already bonding soulmates, you will be traveling together. He leads you through what feels like a maze of metal under the stage and behind some fake walls before coming out a side door and to the vans. You can tell you are close to the send-off because of the deafening screams, and the pull on your chest seems lighter. 

Inside the van, you notice two rows of bench seats, one slightly shorter than the other,  and two captain’s chairs in the back, causing you to pause. “Umm, where should we sit?” you ask. 

“I didn’t know you could get vans with… seven seats in the back,” comments Kat before she jumps in and heads to the far back bench. 

You go to follow, only to have Cindy push your butt onto the short bench. “Nope,” she says, wagging her finger when you scowl at her. “You have at least two joining us, and you need to sit with them.”

You are about to reply when a single scream of “MINGI MARRY ME” hits a new level you never thought possible. The three of you burst out laughing as you watched the newly propositioned Idol run out of the stadium and into the first van, followed by Hongjoong, Yunho, Wooyoung, and Yeosang.

Mathew silently laughs as he sits with Cindy and Kat in the back row, leaving the bench seat with you and the two captain chairs for San, Seonghwa, and Jongho. The three of them walk to the van, to you, at a more measured pace, and they pin you in your seat with their eyes. 

You scoot to the far side of the bench seat, making room for San to take the seat next to you as he was the one who reached the door first, but to your surprise, he sat in the captain’s chair in front of you. Seonghwa took the other captain’s chair. Leaving Jongho to sit next to you, his eyes never leaving yours as you looked at the two bonding soulmates. 

You can hear a ‘hmph’ from behind you and know you weren’t the only one taken back by the seating choice. However, that is the only sound made as the door shuts and the van returns to the hotel. You can feel that someone is looking at you, but you can feel the tension more than ever.

“Miss Y/n, did you enjoy the show?” asks Jongho, breaking the silence. 

Looking at him, you suck in a breath, thinking of an answer. His eyes search yours as if he is asking about something more than the show. “Mr. Choi,” you start, then blanch, looking at San, who is also a Mr. Choi.  “Ahh.. Younger Mr. Choi..”

“Jongho, please. Jongho is fine, please,” the younger man says with a smile. Nodding, you glance at Seonghwa to see him smiling softly as well. 

“Jongho-ssi, I enjoyed the show, it was different and I never thought I would ever see a concert that close in my life,” you admit. 

“Different, how?” prods San. “We did the same songs.”

“That’s true, but you wore different clothes.” You can’t help but glance at Seonghwa again with a blush as you remember his leather strap shirt and purple velvet outfit. 

Smirking, Hwa leaned forward, pointed at your clear purse bag, and said, “We agreed to wear the purple because you seem to like that color. Yeosang thought the Dark Knight costumes to open would be appropriate as well.”

Giggling can be heard from the backseat before Kat says, “Oh, that was a great decision. You should reward him for that. Y/n’s favorite color is purple and black, not to mention she has a thing for leather.”

Turning around, you swat at your friend and say through gritted teeth, “Shut! Up!” However, it has the opposite effect, and the two start laughing so much that the rest of the van joins in as you feel your face heat up. 

“I see how it is,” you glare, turning back to Seonghwa. “Mr. Park,” you grin. “If Hongjoong or Yeosang ever need fancams from this weekend, they can reach out to Kat and Cindy respectively.”

“Hey! Why am I getting dragged into this?” exclaims Cindy, which brings in even more laughter and breaks all the tension. 

“To be honest, I want to say thank you for letting us attend again and not shove us in a green room somewhere,” you say after catching your breath. “I was.. I was excited that I could see you all even once.”

“We are glad you could see us too,” adds San. “But why do I feel like there is something else?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the fact he could tell. Looking between the three of them, you finally say, “I wanted to see you sing Star 1117. Well that and I missed seeing you guys dance Halazia last night and then tonight you guys were facing away when you danced it so…yeah..”

The bonded mates look at each other and start muttering in Korean, leaving you out of the loop. They don’t seem particularly upset by their expressions, but they aren’t happy either. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything; keep your mouth shut and not complain. They have been doing this for years, and it isn’t your place to say anything anyway. 

It isn’t until Mathew and Kat jump in that you feel really lost. Glancing back at Cindy, she shrugs at you before leaning forward, “Maybe you should sign up for lessons.”

“Lessons?” Jongho asks, catching what Cindy said. 

Your eyes widen as Cindy says, “If she is going to be your focus, then she needs to learn to communicate with you all.” That catches Seonghwa and San’s attention as the van goes silent.

“You don’t know Korean?” inquires San.

Shaking your head, you answer, “Nope. I only know the typical K-drama watcher quotes. I… ahh, I am new to Korean stuff in general. These two dragged me into K-pop after they realized how bad things got after…”

“So, you are a baby Atiny? That’s awesome! We can teach you so much,” San says with a smile. “Most of us know enough English to get by, but don’t worry, we are all taking lessons, and either we can get you into lessons or teach you ourselves.”

“Hongjoong and San are the best at English,” adds Seonghwa. “If you need help you can always talk to one of them.”

You simply nod. The implications of them already planning a future with you are causing conflict for you. Their explicit acceptance of having another soulmate is a blessing, but accepting that acceptance when you had given up on ever being whole again is hard. 

The rest of the car ride is filled with small conversations, half in English and half in Korean. You tried to participate but just left it to everyone else. Once back at the hotel, you excused yourself quickly to your room with some flimsy excuse of needing the bathroom before the bonded soulmates could get out of the van. 

Cindy and Kat caught up with you in the lobby and picked up their manager along the way. The manager was talking with Cindy about logistics for tomorrow and getting them to their flight, so his presence didn’t bother you. The four of you went to the room you got ready in.

You did find yourself in the bathroom splashing your face with water. The day's weight was on your shoulders, but since Jongho’s song, it hasn’t crushed you like it was in the conference room. Sitting on the toilet, you pull out your phone and look up group soul bonds. 

+ Group soul bonds are believed to be formed because one or more of the soulmates within the group have experienced a trauma or injury to their soul, which causes fractures. The science behind this splintering of the soul is still being researched. + Group soul bonds are bonds between multiple soulmates. It is believed that a group bond can consist of  3 to 25 soulmates. Groups over nine tend to have a looping soul connecting one bonded group to another.  + Group soul bonds consisting of more than four soulmates must have a focus for the group to be considered complete; without the focus, a soulmate group will face mental and emotional damage over time. It is typically the passive ability-enabled soulmates that will fall to these damages sooner rather than later.  + Group soul bond’s focus is considered a central point for bonded soulmates. The name focus is used synonymously with core and heart. The other bonded soulmates must pay close attention to the soulmate who becomes the focus and maintain a consistent or relative closeness. Disconnections or distance from the focus over time will become more tolerable, but it is not recommended to maintain them for extended periods.   

Knock knock knock

“Yo! I am hungry. Get out here and come with us to raid the hotel convenience store,” yelled Kat. 

Closing your phone and tucking it away, you open the door, “You always are hungry. You literally ate like half the snacks from my bag. How can you eat more?” you tease them.

Grabbing your hand, Kat whines, “That was all like sugar stuff that has burnt off by now. You know I can’t sleep well with an empty stomach. Come on, I am sure they will have some kind of protein bar or fruit.”

Rolling your eyes, you take your hand back and start heading to the door. “Fine, but I am not paying, and you owe me coffee in the morning!” you call back, not waiting for anyone to follow you. You don’t see the sneaky smiles on Cindy, Kat, and Ateez’s manager’s face as they quickly follow you.

The elevator conversion is easy as it returns to the concert and all the Atiny outfits, reactions to the boys, and song choices. Their manager is a nice guy, funny too. You wouldn’t think someone with his sense of humor would be an Idol Manager instead of a comedian, but you guess he likes to stay behind the scenes. 

Finally arriving on the correct floor, you follow the manager down the hall to the store. As Cindy makes an impression of one of the Atiny who practically lost her voice from screaming during the encore, you nod thanks to the man holding the door. Walking in, you glance back at her, laughing and saying, “You would have thought Yunho was doing more than dancing on the stage with how loudly she was losing her shit over him standing there.”

When you face the front, you finally notice how dark the room is except for the single spotlit chair. You stop dead in your tracks as you wonder what the hell is going on. 

When you look back and see them standing at the door, Cindy breaks the silence, saying, “Remember everything we talked about in the hotel room. Dave completes me. You deserve to be complete, too.”

Taking your hand and pulling you to the only chair in the room, Kat says, “Eight of them can be overwhelming, but I believe each holds a piece of your soul that you lost when it shattered.”

From behind you, their manager adds, “I have known these boys for more than anyone else, and I have never seen a more dedicated soulmate group in my life, Miss Y/n. Listen with your heart to what they have planned.” 

With that, the three left the ballroom. 

As the lights went on, you sat straight in the chair, your heart beating a million miles a minute. Could you listen with your heart? Were you willing to allow these eight men to try and complete you? Would you be able to handle being their focus? Their heart of the bond?

Soft steps are all you hear before Mingi's unmistakable, rough but soulful voice starts singing without any music, and the floor lights come up. Here they are, all eight of them dressed in your favorite costumes from the shows. You knew they had to be tired after going back-to-back with shows. All you could see was longing, hope, tenderness, and willingness.  

Mingi’s eyes never leave you as he sings one of the most meaningful songs he and Hongjoong have ever written for Atiny. You recognized it immediately as it was one of the first Ateez ballads you had heard. You knew what the song meant from interviews. It was a song about finding love in the stars, finding their destiny, and protecting it– protecting you.

As Star 1117 ends, music fills as the men get closer to you. You brace for the feeling of being cornered to take over you that never comes. The most accepting and closed-off members stand right before you and begin singing a song you had only heard a few times because they performed it on a couple of shows. You don’t know the name, but you can remember words and phrases as they sing: Who are you? We were meant to be one, and the dark knight is shining; we’re shining in it. It takes you back at how honestly Jongho sings his parts; maybe he isn’t closed off at the idea of you anymore. 

Tilting your head back, you try to keep the tears from falling. You may not know Korean, but your heart, mind, body, and soul don’t seem to have the same language barrier. Their energies fill you as they move around you. While you cannot understand what you are feeling, you know the mix of deep emotions is not just emotions of your own. Closing your eyes for just a moment, you remember what your friends said to you – maybe it is time to be complete. 

When you finally look back at the soulmates, they are standing in a formation you haven’t seen in a long time as one of their older songs starts pumping you up and bringing a smile to your face. The song Promise was one of your favorite early songs of the band. When you first heard it, you thought either Hongjoong or Mingi had met their soulmate, and this was a song they wrote in dedication to them. Now you know, while that may have very much been true, they are singing it now to make a promise to you. 

Emotions overwhelm you as you do your best to mouth the words along with them, not wanting to ruin their harmonization with your botched Korean. Happy tears start to fall as you lean into the song and the pressure in your chest, no longer completely frightened by what you think is where the bond will hold to you. 

Thinking the mini-show is over, you watch them all gather in front of you and mill around. It isn’t until they all stop and you notice their positions that you let out a very embarrassing squawk, which turned into a series of ‘oh my god’s and clapping when you heard your absolute favorite song from the show, that you had complained about not seeing well, was about to be danced less than two feet from you. 

It was one of their songs that you knew every word, every move, and you couldn’t believe they would be doing this song for you. This song was the song that pulled you out of your depression after Darren was murdered. The song caught your heart with its words, your eye with their stunning visuals, and your soul with the timber of their voices. 

Midway through the song, you realize what these songs mean to the eight soulmates looking for you to be their focus and their heart, but your mind still has the dark voice telling you that someone like you cannot be strong enough for them. 

However, your soul starts whispering to you, telling you to find guidance with Hongjoong and home in Seonghwa, make Yunho a pillar and Mingi your solace, seek safety from San and security beside Wooyoung, and obtain tranquility through Yeosang and foundation with Jongho.

Maybe you don’t have to be strong enough for them…they have to be strong enough for you.

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[grapejuicestyless]

What If I Don’t Know?

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: In an alternate universe where the pogues gave up the hunt after their win with El Dorado, Y/n breaks free of the island dream and runs off the college. Only to find that maybe, being away isn’t what she wanted after all.

My boots danced across the thick yellow lines on the deep black pavement. The traffic lights were flickering yellow, reflecting off of the void and rippling across the building puddles by the clogged sewer drains. An intersection at midnight, no dead stop and no definite go. Just the trust that the other cars wouldn’t blow past the warning signs. The trust that metal was made to bend, to rupture to save a life.

I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t afford one, and I never needed one. Everything I ever wanted was always just a few steps away. Laughter used to echo through the halls and cold rings hit the doors repeatedly. You grow used to people that way. Used to the sound of their footsteps, of their breath. You know who’s on the other side of the door always when you memorize the pattern of their movement.

JJ promised me once that we’d make one. We would run our way down to the junkyard and pick out old parts of cars and Frankenstein them together into a piece of shit that would run like a dream.

That was something I missed. The smell of gasoline. Maybe that’s why I stumbled down through the college town, balancing between the thin stripe of black between yellow and twirling in the center where road met road. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. The image of JJ bent under the hood of a truck. The same Ford that sat broken in the front yard for years, the sound of metal twisting and the breathy grunts with each violent twist of the wrench. It would run like new one day, he swore. I never doubted him, and I still don’t. One day, we’ll run down to that junkyard, a graveyard for cars, and we’ll find that missing piece.

Rain dripped from the bridge of my nose, falling on my soaked shoes and flattening out my fuzzy socks. Everything up North was colder. Maybe it was because of how bitter people were. The semi-warm summers and the sweltering months of autumn, only for the two week beach bliss to be swiftly replaced with a harsh winter that didn’t let up until the next summer. Cold nipped at my nose. I felt bitter the longer I was here, which was weird because when I was sixteen, I could have sworn this place was home.

Then again, I had never really been anywhere long enough to know what home really was. Everywhere I went became rushed by the sweet adventure that was chasing riches. Maybe it was the idea of settling down that intrigued me. To be sat in one place for a while and to slow down, to increase my chances of living through my twenties without some pirate knocking on my front door, a gun to my head. But this wasn’t home, this wasn’t settling. This was restlessness mixed with a deep urge to find something like home. An emptiness emotionally that I just couldn’t understand.

Like a dog chasing its own tail, I felt stupid, and I myst have looked drunk dancing among the silence of my college town. I should have been happy, this should have been home. I got out, I got what Kiara always dreamed of, I sought out a higher education, a dream that Pope had thrown away. My record was clean and my future had meaning. I should have been ecstatic to receive this opportunity, after all the grief and death and scandals of my childhood, a stage in my life that was stripped away by all the realities that unraveled with each new treasure found. But, I wasn’t. Even then, sick, dirty, and cold, I wasn’t happier than then now.

I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. In the dormitories, in the bathrooms, in the halls. It’s me, or, a version of that girl. She has my hair, and we share the same eyes, same curve of our lips too. But she’s hollowed out, gutted, and so indescribably not me. Different, not greater, but worse. I think of packing my bags quite often. Going quietly and without a fuss. To swallow my pride and withdraw my debt I would surely acquire if I stay any longer here at some institution I knew I couldn’t afford the moment I sent in my letter.

My roommate would be disappointed, but she’d move on. She doesn’t know me, she understands the concept of me, but she doesn’t know me. She’s nice enough, keeps her room clean, which inspires me to do the same. She brushes her hair regularly, almost obsessively, and is really pretty. We get along fine. We are friends, to a degree, but we are sure to find other roommates and never speak again. Still, I wonder if she would be mad if I left without telling her.

JJ was mad when I told him. He didn’t like the idea of abandonment. Though, I promised I would return in just a few months, and then a week after, and a few months later. It would feel like I am forever home, only with short intermissions where he gets to enjoy all the things that the island could offer with the others to hang off of his arm. He didn’t even indulge in that idea. He thought even an hour apart was too much.

I promised him it wasn’t abandonment, and swore to call him every night. I do. Sometimes I call him in the morning, and I almost always call him in the afternoon. I like to hear his voice. It sounds like home, it makes me feel warm. I forget about the redness of my nose and the tingling numbness in my fingers. He sounds like the waves crashing against the shore and the sound of wet spaghetti hitting the walls during dinners at midnight. He is laughter and the summer sun, the swells that ripple in mid July and the best seashells on the beach.

My knees bend beneath me, kneeling against the wet cement beneath me. I feel the wetness soaking through my jeans. It’s cold. Like it could be snow if it were a degree cooler. I kneel in the middle of the intersection, and I look up at the sky. It’s dark. I check my watch, it’s nearly morning again. The yellow light flickers against my skin, illuminating my face and leaving me in pitch black again. Everyone is sleeping in my college town. All is quiet.

My neck stretches out, upwards and I open my mouth. My tongue touches my chin, and I can taste the dirt in the droplets that swallow down my throat. My eyes are closed, because I have nothing to fear but loneliness itself, and whether my eyes are opened or closed, the feeling will still be there, and the fact will be too. I am alone, in this journey. I have nothing friends to lean on and no campfire to light. Nobody here knows about the existence of Kildare, of the marsh, and the restaurants that line the cut. They wouldn’t care, they don’t care about an environment they are not accustomed to. They only have so much space to consume what they need to know. To drink up their studies, they have no space for empty thoughts of a life they never lived.

I have my old phone in my pocket. The keypad is burned into the screen because it’s all I use it for now. My life revolves around nothing but the stress of failure and the relief of my best friend’s voice at the end of the day to ease my stress. The truth is, I understand the void in my passion now better than I did when it first appeared, the black hole that seemed to swallow up all my excitement for the new beginnings. I understand the bitter feelings I have for my new house, because I refuse to call this place home. Home is not a place you reside, though, familiarity breeds contempt, home is a connection to the people who reside in respect of you, who stand by you. So though the people I surround myself with here are perfectly friendly, they are not my friends, and they will never come close to the feeling of home I feel with them.

“Hello?” His voice is thick with sleep. He has that rasp men get early in the morning, a rich deepness I rarely hear anymore, but something I once bathed in with his arms wrapped around me through the night.

Theres a soft rhythmic ticking that comes with the flickers of light, and the soft patters of rain drenching the pavement create solemn acoustics around me.

“Hey, JJ.” It comes out in one breath. A sigh of relief that he even heard the buzzing of his phone in his usual dead-to-the-world like sleep cycle. My fingers slip on my phone case and I have to catch it, the rustling on my end of the line echoing back through the speaks to me. I can hear the playback of my breathing through a short delay that spans over a vast distance.

“Is everything alright? It’s…three in the morning. I don’t know a lot about time zones but, I think we’re both on the east coast.”

“No, it’s the same time zone, Jay.” My cheeks already hurt with how big my smile was. He just had that effect on me. His goofy, unknowing attitude always managed to make me laugh, especially because deep down I knew he was a lot smarter than he led on to be. When he let that mask slip to reveal his true self, it was always a wonder the ideas that spewed from his lips. He had one of the greatest minds I’d ever known, only to be undermined by the tragedy of his last name.

“Is it a crime to miss my best friend?” My eyes found a home on my wet knees, and my free hand began to play around in the water. Dragging my nail through the small puddle forming around my body.

“At this time? Yes.” He chuckled softly. “Somethings up, what are you speculating? Whats the word? Ovulating? Because I can’t help you with that.” He made himself clear, smiling through his sentences.

“What? No! Why would I call you of all people if I was photo-ovulating?” I corrected myself with a laugh.

“Don’t knock it until you try it. I happen to be irresistible.” JJ defended himself with a teasing tone. Our conversation was light like it always was, even though my homesickness ran deep, and the sadness I felt was heavy, he made it feel like even the rain pouring down around the city I lived in was letting up.

“Lord knows John B’s walls are too thin for me to not have some kind of clue.” I snickered, pushing back the wet strands of hair that had fallen down upon my face.

Rain clung to me in every crevice, drenching me completely until I felt nothing but cold wash over me. It was a shower I didn’t need, one that did not cleanse me but instead poisoned me with the reminder that this was reality, I was miles away from the voice that was soothing my hearts ache momentarily. I would mull over it later.

“Nah, you got off on that shit.”

“Don’t be a pig, I’ll hang up.” I threatened half-heartedly. We both knew I never would. I could never cut the calls first, so the responsibility fell to JJ, who suffered the same inability to let go. Our calls usually stretched for hours, and the voicemails left in my inbox from the few times I would pass out with my cheek pressed firmly against some dusty book in the library took up all remaining storage in my phone. Right along side the folders of photos of us that collected by the thousands.

“So why’d you call?” He asked finally. I had no real answer. I used up all my excuses. Could he check for a sweater I left behind, the very same one I had on, or if he could just catch me up on what the others were up to. As if I didn’t call to hear all their stories daily, hourly if possible. What was I to tell him? What excuse could serve as something plausible without bearing a burden on his wide shoulders.

“You’re my best friend. I love you, I don’t need a reason.”

“You always have a reason.” He argued softly.

“Well, tonight I don’t.” I hummed. He hummed too, and silence filled the line.

The homely yellow flicked was accompanied by the blinding lights that came in pairs, growing brighter and wider with each passing second. Like a deer, I stood quickly, tall in my path but frozen in fear. I couldn’t meet the eyes of the man behind the wheel, recklessly racing across the intersection with no caution. Yellow meant slow, yet in the night, it only called for feet hitting the floor.

Puddles splashed violently, wheels screeching against the wet cement, leaving trails of where wet met soaked. I could see the distance between the wheels, I could lay my chest against the ground and measure it with my wingspan. The car swerved, laying down on the horn until the sound sputtered away into the distance, and nothing but the soft ticking of the lights and the sound of rain smacking the pavement filled the silence of the line again.

“Are you outside?” JJ asked finally. The sound of sheets crinkling and shuffling of legs against the mattress told me the loud alarm had stirred him from his relaxed state. I nodded at first, forgetting he couldn’t see me, and then I cleared my throat.

“I’m standing in an intersection.” I confessed quietly.

“Why?”

To clear my mind, to escape everything that was bothering me. To find peace with the silence, to try and find comfort in a home that wasn’t mine. There were a lot of minor reasons. The smell of gasoline was high on the list. I rationalized a lot of reasons in my head. Maybe I was looking for that bitter smell to remind me of home. Still, my gut wouldn’t settle.

I had left home to find something good for myself, to do myself the favor I always promised myself I would if I ever had the chance. But now, now that my feet had carried me to a place that was usually bustling with life, life that felt dull compared to even the most calm days on the island, I felt like I could never go back. A chance, a life, a future that I craved, I was throwing away because my feet refused to lift from the ground until I was sure I would only take my next steps home.

“I miss you.”

My answer was clear. It was true. I missed the waves, I missed the concrete roads freshly paved down in figure eight and how they met the old dirt roads of the cut. I missed John B’s chicken coop, though the chickens were long gone. I missed the dying tree carved with his name, and the rusted latch on the chateau’s porch door that left a yellow stain in the crinkles of my palm. But more than anything, I missed being no more than a breath away from JJ Maybank.

“Come pick me up?” I asked with uncertainty. Not because I even doubted for a moment that JJ wouldn’t come running to me if I even for a moment doubted where I stood, but because the morning was still young and tropical paradise was far away from the whistling winds of the North. Ferries only ran during certain hours, and money was hard to come by, even when we scrape together our pennies. Thats what happens when you drink up your success, you’re left with the repercussions. So, even if he did catch the boat, where would he get a ride from? How much more would it cost to bring the Twinkie alongside hime and ride it all the way to the hills where the colleges welcome signs were illuminated by colored lights, shining in school colors and pride.

He let out a stifled breath. He was choking on emotion I couldn’t read over the phone.

“I’ll be there, yeah.” He promised.

“Okay…I’ll go pack.” I said, suddenly and awkwardly. Yes, I dreamed of this day, kissing everything goodbye and running back to my roots, but now it was real. I could hear JJ slipping on his boots already. Why waste this chance?

“Pack?” He questioned.

“I’m leaving for good, Jay. I know I tell you that this is great and all, but I hate it here. This isn’t…this isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s not what I want.”

“So, you’re coming home?” He asks even though my answer has always been obvious.

“Yes.”

The line falls quiet again. I can hear the shuffling of his feet quickening against the rotting wood floors of the old Maybank property. A broken home flipped into something good. We share a bed there, I imagine he’s already grieving the loss of his starfish sleep position now that he’ll be bound to the same mattress as me again.

“I’ll be there soon.” The line falls dead.

Water splashes around me. If I wasn’t already soaked, I would be now. I can see why John B loved having a car so much now. The cold was fine at first when it was numbing, but now that I had feeling back in my chest, it was too much for me. My feet hit the pavement in harsh slapping movements, I pump my arms for some kind of friction against the wind. My lungs burn, they taste metallic. I want to wheeze and stop running, but I don’t think I could if I tried. I should feel embarrassed how quickly I up and left the place I was once stuck in, how I turned on my heels to run far away. But I’m not. I feel nothing, actually. Nothing but cold, determination, excitement. I have the energy of a child. I am an olympic runner, I have the right motivation. Get the fuck out of here, run myself right into JJ’s arms. I pray I don’t wake my roommate up when I reach my room.

The room is empty when I get there. I open the door so slowly, not even the rusted hinges make a sound. The carpet groans under my weight, even on my highest tip-toes. But the beds are empty and neatly made like they were left this morning. Rains pelts the windows. Theres a fan running. It’s my fan. I can’t sleep in the heat, not even in the winter. My bedding consists of borrowed blankets that I buried myself in, subconsciously trying to suffocate away the homesick feelings.

I barely had any clothes to pack, anything to throw into my duffle bag and my old backpack that was once Kiara’s. I never really got around to unpacking anyway, because there was so little to fill the bags I brought. Looking back on every decision I made before even stepping foot on campus, I should have known I would never stay. This was merely a vacation from hell. I don’t get the privilege to relax, I am worked and forced to prove myself over and over again among my peers who will never know me. I can’t wait to go somewhere where I am known again.

Somewhere along the way, I begin to collect up the posters on my walls. I rip them down hazardously, crumpling them and leaving them in the empty trashcan. It’s empty because there’s nothing I’ve touched in this room. Not the books, or the pens. I have a singular pencil up on my desk that’s much shorter than it once was, only half of its once lengthy size, and a nearly full set of flashcards. I don’t need the memory of this place to follow me. I consider it a favor to my roommate. To gift her with all the supplies she will ever need. She is nice enough, and a lot smarter than me. She’s sitting here on a full ride, though, the collar of her shirt says she could afford it without a penny. I convince myself she deserves it even though I do not know her.

I check my phone repeatedly, and I sit on the bench under the old overhang by my dorms. I stay out of the rain, I stay near the warmth and huddle up. I feel anxious waiting for him. It’s only been a few hours. I swept over the room for the few things I did want to keep. Like one of JJ’s bracelets, though it never even left my wrist. Or the soap I used in the shower. It was brand new, I had just bought a new one. I wait for his call. I wait for the familiar honking of the rusted horn. I wait, and wait as the sun rises. Time ticks by. I am impatient, I wasn’t bred this way, but good things have made me this way. I cannot wait.

“Popes probably gonna kill me.” I mumbled softly.

The car was warm, but my hands still lingered with the outsides touch. I sat on that bench for hours waiting for him. I saw people rise from their beds and lean out the window, taking in the smell of the dewey morning. A few gave me puzzled glances. A drenched girl, dripping down on the bench, wetting everything she touched.

But then, he came. I could see the rusted van before he even put it in park. Just between the brick lined buildings and the paths decorated in dying shrubbery. There was a small gap between the campus lawn and the visitors parking lot. A small slice of the outside world creeping into the sheltered space that was college.

I ran. I ran faster than I ever had in my life. Faster than when I used to race for desert back when Big John used to ruffle my hair and let me sleep over if I wanted, faster than when Ward held a gun to my head and made me pray for some kind of miracle. I ran until my feet couldn’t keep up, and I fell into JJ with a gasp.

He held me back, lifting my feet from the ground they stood on. I swore I heard him mumble something sappy under his breath, but he quickly shrugged it away when he saw the look in my eyes. I never felt love until I felt the desperation in the way he wrapped his arms around me. The way he squeezed the air from my lungs and only let me breathe when he was sure that the feeling between his elbows and his chest was really real, until he knew that this was for good.

He had slung my bags into the back seat and laughed as he told me to get in the Twinkie. When he started driving, he played the old CD we burned together in middle school filled with soft rock and Bob Marley. Occasionally, a song I had written into the playlist without him knowing would play. He always acted angry that I’d done that, but his fingers tapped the wheel and he couldn’t help but hum along. He would never admit to liking trashy pop songs, but the pink on his cheeks gave him away.

When the CD was spun to an end, we debated playing it again. We fell into silence, into the comfort of company. We both took the time to process the fact that this was real now, this was the decision I had decided to make. The thoughts that ran through my mind, what if I took off? What if I packed my bags, what if we moved back home? Let’s adventure down the coast, let’s live our youthful dreams that are unrealistic. Let’s make a home. They were real now, in this car, in him. We sat comfortably knowing that there was no limit on our company now, no restrictions on how much time there was left to borrow.

My socks tapped against the dashboard, my toes tracing the outline of the stickers scattered along the interior. Wet residue was left over, soggy folds gathered at my ankles. My body folded into itself slightly. I let the warn air from the dusty vents dance across my skin. Goosebumps faded like the sinking feeling in my gut. The smell of gasoline filled my nose once more, the smell of his deodorant reminded me that he was close.

“No doubt about it. Don’t know how you’re gonna talk your way out of this one.” JJ sighed contently.

“Well, you’re pretty good at sweet talking.” I buttered him up. Compliments were his weakness, I knew it all too well.

“I love you, but no.” JJ laughed.

“What! Oh, come on, please!”

My hands wrapped around his right bicep. My chin sat perched on his shoulder, batting my eyelashes at him and tickling the peach fuzz on his jaw that he had missed while shaving. I wanted to rub my palm over it, tease him for it with a smile. He had a toothy grin that I could see reflecting back in the rearview mirror.

“I get shit done, but I’m not a miracle worker, ‘kay?” He lifted his arm out of my grasp reluctantly, waving his finger to make his point.

“I thought Papa J was a miracle worker?” I teased with a raised brow. My arms crossed over my chest with a huff. My back fell gently against door. I turned to face him, a pout on my face and lines between my furrowed brows.

JJ let out a breathy laugh, his resolve quickly breaking at my endless begging. He had soft spots and I knew just where to aim.

“No, no! Don’t use my ego against me!” He laughed. I held my stomach this time, trying to keep my ribs together while I struggled to contain the fits of giggles bubbling up my throat and fighting past my lips. If love was a sanctuary, I was certain I had both feet in it. If it was a fire, I was burning up, and if it was the waves, they had crashed down relentlessly against my shivering body, bringing relief with each blow.

I bit the inside of my cheek and chewed at the skin. Laughter faded into even breathing, and my limbs curled up against the wrinkling fabric of the passenger seat. It had just barely started to rain again, a soft pattern of droplets hitting the windshield every so often. The closer we got to the dock, the more it lightened up. Though, the storm came in waves in the shape of the clouds that covered the blue skies. With each opening with sun peaking through, the tapping on glass stopped. When the grey swallowed us whole, it resumed. I didn’t mind it again. Not for the reasons that I wallowed in just hours ago, not to seek comfort in my homesick nature that cane purely from the soul of a homebody. But this time, because the swelling my my heart made me want to pull over to the side of the highway and spin around until my half-dried socks were coated in mud and my skin didn’t recall what the dryness felt like.

“Can I tell you something?” I murmured, my eyes locked in to the passing view that was the trees speeding past the windows.

“Yeah.” JJ hummed.

“I only came back for you.”

JJ hesitated on what he thought he wanted to say. He was biting his tongue. I shook my head.

“That sounds bad.” I laughed. “I only decided to leave because of you. I guess…just sitting in the middle of the road, I already felt really far away from everyone. I missed everyone more than I’ve ever missed anything in my life, but I was convinced that maybe I could suffer through it. But…just being with my thoughts, and hearing your voice after thinking for a while…kinda just convinced me.”

JJ took it all in. I saw the whites of his knuckles deepen the harder he pressed his fingertips to the wheel, the vast expanse of road ahead daunting now. This was beyond quality time together, and he knew it now that the newness began to settle and he began to realize it was the same old me. This was my future, and I had tossed it all away.

“I just…I guess I always thought you’d be the one to make it out. To really go for it. Kildare’s bog enough for me, but I always kinda thought you’d go somewhere…more.” JJ spoke softly, eyes glued to the road.

“Maybe I already did get out. I got out and I tried to change everything about me to be that girl who wanted to get out, but she’s dead. Getting out sounded so freeing when we were younger, but now…now that we’ve seen the world and…and done so much in such little time, I’ve already lived a whole life, I’ve seen the world and I still feel like I don’t know who I am yet. But I know what I love, and I know that I hate every second that I’m away from it.”

JJ hummed again, raising his brows.

“You don’t need to explore every single corner of the earth to be something or-or someone. And maybe I didn’t realize it when I sent my letter in but I know now and I know that, I feel only half as good when I’m anywhere but where I should be. I’m sorry if that’s disappointing or if Pope is going to lecture me for days and you have to listen to it, but I know I have such a better chance of being who I want to be where I can be her than in some Northern University where people wear coats year round.” I rambled. My hands moved quickly. I cut through the air with each slice of my palms, and my eyes ran wild across the landscapes and the curve of his nose down to the bend of his jawline.

“I’m just trying to make sure this is what you want.” He finally cracked a smile. His head turned for a moment to meet my eyes, and I could see the flickers of light brightening up his affectionate gaze.

“Jay, I sat in the pouring rain in the middle of the road and begged you to come get me.” I deadpanned, but a small smile still graced my face.

Truthfully, I couldn’t wait to stick my toes back in the warm sand back home. To look down at my boots and dance along the gravel roads instead of balancing between two yellow lines that shot straight down the neat pavement.

Home was a foreign concept for a long time. The idea that it was something that could be bought. Through a mortgage, monthly rent, out of pocket. I never had those kinds of expenses. What was pocket change for some felt like gold to me, so maybe when people sat around talking about how they craved a big house to reside in, I never fully understood. Then again, I was never anywhere long enough to know.

I wouldn’t change a thing, how I ran around with my friends for years looking for gold that seemed to become buried under more and more stories, leading us to an even greater prize. I wouldn’t change the way I threw it all away to be with them. Subconsciously, I was smarter than I thought. Pope talked about packing up his bags, skipping town and moving to Idaho. Somewhere where he meant nothing to nobody and could start over. But I never indulged in it, or the fantasies of having a little more money. Being stable out be nice, but I always knew I had what I needed. I had a home and it was built on the structure of my four best friends that soon grew in size to six, and they had toothy smiles and stupid jokes.

“Do you think they’ll be mad?” I asked suddenly. Sure, this was right and it was what was true, but this was a dream that nobody else ever got to experience.

JJ pulled his lip between his teeth.

“Nah.” He sighed. “Pope will have your head, but Pope gets wound up easily. Could use him as a fishing pole.” JJ joked. It made me laugh and I felt any stress melting away. It was funny that he could do that anytime he pleased. I didn’t know if he ever knew he could do it, but he had a smart mouth, and a funny bone that always seemed to tickle me just right.

“But not you?” I asked once again.

“Not me what?”

“You wouldn’t? Be disappointed in me, that is.” I clarified softly, the roads becoming softer the more me drove along them. It was only moments until we’d soon roll onto the metal bridge connecting us to the boat that would send us home.

JJ breathed out through his nose.

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” I responded plainly.

“And it makes you happy?”

“Yes.” JJ sighed, his eyes flickering from the wheel, to the road, and back to me. But only for a moment.

“Then no.” He answered just as plainly as I did, but there was a twinge of happiness itching at the corners of his lips. Selfishly, he wanted me to come home, and selfishly, I did too.

“Well, are you mad at me?” I continued to press him.

He laughed. “I could never be angry at you.”

“Not even if this is the wrong choice?” I picked at the skin by my fingers. My skin hurt a lot less now that it was shedding the smell of foreign land and letting the faint smell of the Twinkie stick.

“Who am I to tell you if it’s wrong?”

“Well, Pope would tell me it’s wrong.” I argued weakly.

“And am I Pope?”

I shook my head silently, and my eyes glued to my fingers. Blood stained my cuticles, where skin met nail. It stung, but it hurt a lot less than what I felt before.

“Y/n/n, you could send me into bankruptcy and act like we’re rich and I don’t think I’d even have it in me to blame you.” JJ smiled. I focused on the slopes and curls of his hair.

We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t like he was Shakespeare, but it wasn’t often JJ said something truly sappy. Usually, his philosophies revolved around excuses for his own stupid actions, which, now that he had explained his view on me, I had come to realize I never fully saw the extent of his behavior because I had never had the courage to blame him. I never would.

“So, you’ll talk me out of trouble when we get back?” I smiled sweetly, leaning my head on his shoulder and batting my eyelashes desperately.

JJ let out a laugh from deep in his stomach, his cheeks turning pink from his gasps of oxygen.

“I love you, but no.”

“I thought JJ was the reckless one, but holy shit, Y/n/n!” Pope ran a hand over his hat, pulling it off by the brim in one quick motion. The hard fabric hit the wooden counter of the bait and charter shop, the slap echoing through the homely space.

“Can you blame me? It’s so far away, and we just got back! I haven’t been in one place for more than a month in years, and I’m so god damn tired of feeling homesick all the time!” I tried to argue against the growing rally against me. I pleaded my case, but they all looked at me like I was brain dead.

“You had a chance, Y/n. A really good one too and you blew it, for what? To sell bait? To slum it in the cut? You can do that when you’re done earning your other options!” He scolded me like I was a kid. But I’m not a kid, and the worry lines slowly creeping up onto my once vibrant face are only evidence of the ever growing number attached to my bones.

“Yes, but a chance I didn’t ever really want! I mean, how could I even know if I ever wanted it, I don’t know who I am!”

“Thats what growing up is for! Not growing down. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not a kid anymore, Y/n. And you never will be again!”

Silence fell over the small room. Even the waves rolling against the dirt didn’t dare to whisper through the large windows and gaps for doors.

“I sacrificed that for you.” I spoke softly, bitterly. For so long, I’s bitten my tongue for everyone. Hidden my resentment for chasing after a gold, I never really wanted because in my eyes, I already had it. But it was what they wanted, so I let myself age out of the period of my life I had dreamed of since I was a kid.

“I gave up my childhood so that you could figure out yours! You got to know who you are, I never got that because no one ever stopped to ask me what I wanted! Nobody! You were all too caught up in your greedy treasure hunt to ever look around and think about if everyone wanted to do this!”

“No one made you come along.” Kiara stepped forward, the same disapproving look in her eyes. She was only defending her wordless friend, but my feet felt heavy and my joints were warm. I felt myself creating sentences I should have never admitted out loud.

“Well I did! I did, and it’s too late to change that, and I did it because that’s what friends do. But what do we have to show for it? Nothing! We didn’t get the cross, we didn’t get the gold, hell, we already spent all of the nuggets John B managed to grab!” It fell silent again, and suddenly, I was standing in the center of a circle I didn’t want to be a part of.

“So what? Because we failed, it condemns you to leave college?” Kiara always had a smarter mouth than me. She was quit witted and observant. Yet, she failed to understand that my choice to come home wasn’t something merely of the way the treasures slipped through our fingers. It was a homesickness she never had to feel because she had plenty of them where she was consistently welcomed.

“Why is it so wrong for me to be unhappy with something that everyone else enjoys? Just because my dreams do not inspire yours does not make them any less important. A-and honestly I’m sick of standing here and listening to all of you yell at me for getting out of there instead of letting myself waste away! I’d be dead if I didn’t leave, I’d be dead because you all mean a lot too much to me for me to be away from you guys for so long. In four years I might be rich, but I would be unhappy. I would be bored. But you guys—us; we will be interesting, and funny, and bold, and unpredictable forever.”

I swallowed hard, and my eyes met the blues of the boy who had the courage to go against the majorities better judgement and bring me home. He had the same wild look on his face.

I hadn’t expected JJ to speak for me, to try and mellow out the anger I knew I would receive and backtrack against the backlash I would surely face. But out of everyone, I thought I could count on him to have my back.

And he just, didn’t.

I decided then I wouldn’t stay in the eye of the hurricane when I knew what it was capable of. I wouldn’t let myself become part of its destruction if I knew I could separate myself from it for just a moment, to remove myself from all the disappointed stares.

My feet hit the wood of the long dock, the bottoms of my shoes echoing through each plank of wood, all borrowed from the destruction of a past home.

I thought of packing up, leaving, heading over to some other place I could call home temporarily, but my fingers hesitated to reach under the bed, and my knuckles curled away from the zipper that connected to the duffle bag that was squished between dirty clothes and shoe boxes filled with memories.

A hand spun me around, pulling me from the daze I had put myself in the second I walked into the new bedroom that was mine to keep in the newly fixed home. It was calloused and warm, yet the coolness of the rings decorated on each finger revealed who the strong hold belonged to.

“Why couldn’t say something?” I asked bitterly before my eyes even met his. It was just JJ and I in the confines of our bedroom. The door shut without a crack and the windows sealed off from the outside.

“I told you I wouldn’t.” He smiled. I didn’t find it funny.

“No, but you could have defended me. I would have done it for you.” My lip wobbled. My throat stung, and JJ’s eyes softened. He must have believed it was because he hurt me, but it wasn’t his fault. It was just the idea that nobody would ever deal with what I felt because they hadn’t been burdened with the feeling of it ever before. And therefore, nobody would ever get it, nor have an inkling of an understanding of why I had to come home.

“Y/n/n, come on. It’ll blow over. They’ll be happy to have you back as soon as they get over it.” He tried to comfort me.

When his hands found my shoulders, it felt belittling, condescending, though I knew it wasn’t the case. I convinced myself it was because I was angry. Spiteful, maybe.

“No, JJ, stop. Stop touching me like you care, I can’t…I can’t stand it right now.” I stepped away, throwing his hands off of me like they were poison, or fire, or both.

“Everyone is looking at me like I’m a failure! Like…like I’m something to be embarrassed about. But who are they to say that I failed? Right? I spent my whole life, the years when I’m supposed to be finding myself licking the dirt off of other peoples shoes! And I took it and I didn’t complain because I thought that maybe my day would come, and it hasn’t! How is that fair? And to think I was stupid enough to think that something good would happen to me. But the truth is I hate being out of this stupid town, and this stupid town hates me. I-it’s like they’re all spitting on me and blaming it on the wind. And don’t look at me like I’m crazy because I love you too damn hard to be looked at like that by a boy I would give my whole life for!”

I breathed heavily through my teeth, and my chest raised with so much vigor in my voice, I shook the air with a desperate anger I had felt marinating for decades beneath my skin. Yet, the manhunting and the blaming had pushed it down, and the failure and the fear had only boiled it back up. But it was always there, simmering. JJ just laughed.

“I’m only looking at you like you’re crazy because I think you’re too good to care what anyone has to say about you.” He explained with a smile.

“To you, maybe. But that doesn’t make it true. Whats true is that they all had some image of me painted for them the second I made the decision to go to college, and it was wrong. Because I’m not nearly smart enough to be as interesting or independent as they want me to be. I can’t do organic chemistry, I’ve never passed a calculus test, I’m not a doctor. Nobody ever supported those dreams anyways, not even me, because as amazing as it would be to become those versions of myself, it’s not me.” My face crumpled in defeat finally.

“I’m not…good enough for anything outside of this town.”

For the first time in my life, I saw something in JJ’s eyes as I confessed how I saw myself, how I let my friends—no, my families anger affect how I saw my decisions. I saw dapples of disappointment flickering in the sea of his eyes.

“Do you really think thats true?” He asked calmly, softly. He ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to reach out for me, but he too shared that feeling of uncertainty that had consumed me in the past months.

“Good god, maybe they were right. Maybe you are a failure.” JJ sighed, and my breathing halted. “How can you for one second believe that anything they have to say is true? How can you believe that these things you think about yourself are true?”

“Well what am I supposed to believe? We were all raised to believe the same things, right? The engineers and the scientists are necessary but nobody needs the family man or-or the artists to carry on, right? So why should my dreams of just simple living be tolerated when everyone else craves so much more?” I cried.

“Do you even hear yourself? It’s contradictory in every sentence!” JJ yelled furiously back at me. But his anger wasn’t placed at me, but at the things that led me to believe what I thought.

“Just a few hours ago you were excited to come home. You were certain that this is what you wanted because it was your dream and your life! You wanted to find yourself, to know who you are. And you were right! More dead on than anyone had ever been in my life, and hearing you speak about what you knew inspired me to think more for myself than for the benefit of everyone else! College, or some fancy job, or money won’t make any of us know who we are, that’s your job!” JJ’s eyes were wide. He had decided now, and his hands found a home on my arms, squeezing hard and passionately.

“Anyone can be those things they want you to be, but I promise you, if you stick with what you know you want, everyone you touch will remember you for centuries.” He promised me softly.

“And how do I know if I even know myself? What if I’ve never been home enough long enough to know?”

“Then you’ll find it. You’ll find it, and I’ll find it too. We can find it together.”

My eyes searched his. I could no longer blink away my tears. The liquid was much warmer than the rain that had pelted against my skin, that had slipped down my back and under my shirt to touch the most painful and terrifying parts of myself that I had refused to acknowledge or recover for some time. It was hard to recognize it all, to know exactly who I wanted to be, so, I did what I did know.

I wrapped my arms around JJ tightly, burying my head in the wrinkles of his shirt and let the patterns his arms rubbed circles in my back guide the way I swayed. I let him hold me, because if anything could be uncertain then he was nothing. He was the one thing I’d always known, and maybe that was why I had called him that night. Because in every memory I ever had, he was the one defining memory of home. He was home.

“Will you be mad at me if I never find it?” I asked pathetically against his chest.

“No.” He responded softly, muffled by the way his lips pressed into the top of my head affectionately.

“I could never be angry at you.”

[fallenrocket]

My god, Cassian is just so young in season 1 of Andor. On this last rewatch, it kept jumping out at me everywhere. Especially at the start of the show, which makes sense--he goes through a pretty intense education over the course of the season and transforms before our eyes. But there's just so much in Cassian that comes from being young, traumatized, and desperate.

We see it in his moments of unabashed fear, like when he's stopped by the two corpos in the pilot, the first time he sees the TIE fighter fly past on Aldhani, or as the prison transport takes off for Narkina 5. Even when he tries to hide it, we can see it in his eyes, the parts of him that are still that scared kid from Kenari.

We see it in the chip he has on his shoulder, like the attitude he cops with Luthen in their first meeting: "I don't know you." He's not just guarded and distrustful, he kind of actively resents this guy trying to get too familiar with him. When he's scared, uncertain, or guilty, he tends to push others away, a product of having to fight most of his life and of losing many of the things and people he's cared about. I also think of him coldly telling Bix, "You won't have to worry about me anymore," at the end of their argument in "Announcement."

And yet, by the same token, he can also be surprisingly open and earnest in his affections. For me, this is most apparent in his scenes with Maarva in "Announcement." There, we see his naive optimism that the money he got from Aldhani can solve all their problems. He's so buoyant and hopeful and loving as he suggests running away, saying, "What do we need but the three of us?" Later in the episode, we see that same naivety when he insists, "We'll find a place they haven't ruined yet." But it crops up in other places too. On Aldhani, he chooses Clem's name as his pseudonym, even though he already realizes Luthen has a lot of intel on him and will probably recognize it--in that moment, his distrust of Luthen is outweighed by his desire to go into this dangerous mission carrying a small piece of his dad with him. Then there's that beautiful hug with Brasso in "Rix Road," especially those few extra beats past when you'd expect them to part. When he hugs Melshi in the previous episode, Cassian is rushed, on the brink of falling apart and not wanting Melshi to see. But with Brasso, Cassian needs that touch for a few extra seconds, and he's not afraid to hold on a little longer.

Most of Cassian's dumbest mistakes in the season are very youthful ones. He's an incredibly smart and observant guy, so he's not dumb very often, but when he is, it tends to come back to being young, traumatized, and desperate. We see this especially in the opening Ferrix arc: insisting on bringing an unsecured comm to his meeting with Luthen (oh my god, the way he bickers with B2EMO about them beforehand!) and trying to go back for the starpath unit when the shit hits the fan, even after Luthen repeatedly tells him to leave it. With the starpath unit, part of it is naivety--"What if it's just one guy left?"--and part of it is growing up poor and scrappy. This box represents more money than he's ever had at any one time, and he simply can't process the idea that his buyer would just leave it behind.

Finally, every now and then, Cassian has this subtle but impeccable "little shit" energy. We definitely see it when he messes with Timm in the pilot, deliberately goading him instead of trying to defuse the situation when he sees that Timm is jealous. It's a dumb, petty moment of cheap satisfaction that winds up with some intense blowback when Timm IDs him to Pre-Mor. And I love Cassian's refusal to give up on Kino on Narkina 5, always believing he can be brought into the fold no matter how many times Kino tells him to forget about it. It's a great reflection of how Cassian rejects the Empire's attempts to divide the inmates by pitting them against each other, but part of why he's able to keep at it is his annoying-kid tenacity. I love the scene where Kino brushes him off by saying how many shifts he has left and Cassian immediately responds with, "So...tell me what you know before you go."

It's simply wild to compare the Cassian we see in "Kassa" to the one in "Rix Road." He goes through so much in twelve episodes and really comes into his own, and it's fantastic to see some of the qualities he displays in Rogue One starting to peek through. He's already come so far in his character growth--I cannot wait to see how season 2 gets us from "Rix Road" to Rogue One!

Oh yeah, and Diego Luna is simply stunning. You can really feel how he traced Cassian's life backwards to this point, see how different the Cassian of "Kassa" is from the Cassian of Rogue One and yet still fully believe that this is the same character. All the little hints he drops, all the tiny moments where you can see Rogue One Cassian starting to gestate. It's such beautiful, brilliant work!

[sonotpattismith]

composing a burlesque

pairing: yuta okkotsu x burlesque!reader word count: 10.2k inspired by: nearly witches by panic! at the disco content: burlesque reader, angst, sexual assault, violence, yuta being a little insane, smut, 18+

There was a time when exorcizing curses provided a rush of dopamine to Yuta Okkotsu’s brain unlike any other drug that would ever come to graze his calloused hands. The action was filled with purpose— it made him ooze a certain confidence that felt damn near orgasmic. Being a special grade, being sent off on missions others were deemed incapable of completing themselves, it was all euphoric for the once insecure and helpless boy. 

Yuta had been in the business for years now though, and he wasn’t sure the last time his job felt that addicting. Perhaps in the heat of all that he had fought through, the sorcerer failed to ever acknowledge when he was in his prime. Now though, as he swung his katana over his shoulder and gazed haphazardly at the mission synopsis before him, all he felt was the grueling realization that he had been tumbling down that hill of his supposed peak for quite some time now. 

He longed for it though, the type of purpose he could sink his teeth into and feel the pressure of it achingly caress his gums. With his well surpassing all his peers, at what point did his original purpose for building himself up get lost in the rubble of all his past successes? Perhaps it was the validation of it all that only tasted so nice when it was those he desperately had something to prove to. 

So, the special grade would take every mission thrown his way. Hell, he would even go as far as to seek out especially perilous ones just for a hint of that rush he used to get. It wasn’t a difficult feat, given the fact that the higher ups always found his efforts better suited to higher grade missions anyway. This was why, as Yuta stared up at the red, LED lights flashing down at him from what appeared to be a gentlemen’s club, he wasn’t sure where his skills fit in here. 

The lit up, archway entrance had a mysterious way of luring him in while simultaneously warning him that Yuta Okkotsu was way out of his element here. He could hear the sultry music that was playing inside reverberating on the ground beneath his feet, penetrating deep into the already uncertain depths of his chest. The sorcerer hadn’t even been aware that such places existed anymore, much less that they still drew in such a crowd, judging by the boisterous chatter that also escaped the tantalizing walls of the club. Of course, these types of… establishments were never really his scene. 

Gulping down his nerves, he was more anxious about the human proclivities that would be awaiting him on the other side rather than whatever curse he was sent to deal with. Despite this apprehension, he followed the gold, bulb lights that lead the way to the heavy, double doors. Upon pushing in, the alluring music seemed to increase tenfold, and he could feel the vibrations of the drunken club-goer’s conversations in his chest. 

His breath left him momentarily as he took in the sights before him. There were very obvious, overwhelmingly strong tendrils of cursed energy that seemed to waft from the very back of the establishment, and he assumed that’s where he should be headed to find what he’d come here for— perhaps he would have had it not been for the fact that he was completely enamoured by the dominating presences on the main stage. 

At present, there were three women on the stage, each doused head to toe in delicately intimate costumes. They oozed artistry and professionalism with each pointed kick and calculated sway of their hips. The men that surrounded the stage must have felt it too, what with the way each of them was glued to performance, eyes unsure where to focus at any given moment. 

Yuta watched as they smirked and hollered over at each other, depraved thoughts that should never have been conjured in the first place let alone spoken aloud being tossed around the room nonchalantly. Of course, the sorcerer wasn’t blind, the beauty that emanated from each woman on the stage wasn’t lost on him, but he couldn’t help but be thrilled by the artistry alone. 

“First time?” 

He was pulled from his gobsmacked trance by a saccharine voice, so sweet and sultry in its delivery that he determined that it just had to have been rehearsed. Spinning around so abruptly, Yuta knocked into the tray of drinks balanced on your gloved, manicured hand. It tipped to the side unceremoniously, and he was jolting forward with an expert reflex to catch it before it fell. 

“Oh!” He gaped frantically, anxiety ridden hands shooting up to steady the martini glasses as their contents began to splash onto you. The awkward man before you seemed to work with such swiftness and tact that you were sure you missed all of what had happened in the second you took to blink. “I— Gah! I’m such a clutz. I’m sorry, Miss—”

“So, yes for first timer?” You teased with an impressed gaze, taking note of the now perfectly balanced glasses on your tray. Carefully shifting the tray in your arms, your free hand reached up to swipe the drops of spilled alcohol from your chest. 

Yuta, finally looking up from the glasses, followed the motion with bated breath. You donned a similar costume to the ones on the performers, a shimmering gold bodysuit that clung sinfully to your every curve, reaching high on your hips and exposing the skin of your fishnet laced thighs. Your red-manicured fingers dipped onto the plush pillows of your chest that were exaggerated by the tightness of your bodice, gathering up the wetness that lingered before returning your casual grip on the tray. 

His heart was beating up higher and higher until he felt its mocking rhythm in his throat, and his wide eyes drifted from your glistening chest, up your neck until they met the intricately painted face attached. The response he meant to give strained to come out as he stared into your shadow-lined eyes with dramatic lashes fluttering up to meet his gaze, and whatever he meant to say came embarrassingly out as a cross between a hum and a grunt. Your red-painted lips curved up in amusement, an expression that reminded him of just how pathetically he was behaving. It was hardly within his ability to care though, not when your smile revealed itself to be the best bit you had seemingly saved for last.

“Am I—” Yuta stammered, desperate to take back any semblance of dignity in this painful interaction. When your brow quirked up, he laughed nervously. “Am I that obvious?”

“Just a lucky guess.” You winked, looking behind him to the stage he had been staring at. “They’re pretty good, huh?” 

“Huh? Oh! Y-Yeah, it’s incredible.” He gushed honestly, stealing another glance at their seamless choreography before turning back to you. “Um… You don’t— uh, dance?”

“I do.” You smiled sweetly at his anxious disposition, picking up one of the glasses to hand to him. “Just not today.”

He stared at the glass for a beat too long, the dark, red lighting in the room illuminating off of the prominent whites of his blown out eyes. After another second, his midnight eyes fluttered back up at you, and he offered a wobbly smile. 

“O-Oh, I didn’t order anything.”

“On the house.” You offered nonchalantly, bending over just a bit to hand out the drinks to the couch of men awaiting their orders. 

Yuta wished he could be a better man in that moment, for he knew his gaze lingered too long on the arch in your back as you flirted casually with the customers. One particularly burly man had cash pressed between his fingers, fully prepared to tuck it into your pronounced cleavage. It was evident then though that you had been in this game too long, and you snatched it smoothly between your shiny, red nails before tutting at the man in playful disapproval. 

As you straightened back up to return to the anxious boy behind you, you gave a mockingly exasperated expression.  The subtle attention made his chest burn, and had it not been for the lighting, he was sure you would have caught the way it spread up to his neck and cheeks. Nonetheless, he smiled shyly back at you, taking a swig from the drink you’d given him in an attempt to cool himself down. The bitter liquid splashed against his unsuspecting tongue, and he had to fix his face in record timing lest he embarrass himself again. 

“Not your poison?” You laughed softly while brushing past him to head back to the bar. His white sneakers squeaked against the floor as he stumbled after you. “I figured you’d need a little liquid courage before dealing with whatever the hell haunts this place.”

His expression fell a bit in surprise at your words. Now behind the bar, you peered back at his dumbstruck expression. 

“How did you know that’s what I was here for?”

Leaning forward, you tugged gently on the swirled, yellow button on his chest, making him pull forward toward you just a hair. 

“Not the first yellow button I’ve seen come through here to take that thing out.” You whispered lowly, and had he not been so close, he wouldn’t have heard you over the rowdy crowd and blaring music. Your confession made his brows furrow. 

“No one’s been able to exorcise it?” 

“Oh, is that what they’re calling it?” You laughed, finally letting go of your grip on his shirt to lean your hands against the cool, glass counter. “Well, I heard that’s why they sent you. Rumor has it you’re stronger than the rest of them. Is that true…?”

“Okkotsu.” He introduced as you trailed off in question, holding his posture just a bit higher at your praise. “I’m Yuta Okkotsu.”

You smiled again, your pearly whites glittering under the neon lights. With a tilt of your head, your pristinely styled curls shifted enough to waft the scent of your shampoo straight toward his face. With Yuta’s luck, it wouldn’t be the martini in his hand that got him drunk on the job. 

“Well, Yuta Okkotsu— are you? Stronger than the rest?”

Your questioning of his talents assured that Yuta didn’t need any alcohol to charge into the back of that club to prove himself to you that night. It wasn’t as if he ever needed any encouragement before, the sorcerer had become more than confident in his abilities over the years, and he knew there was little to nothing that could rival his techniques. Still, it had been a while since he had felt so driven to tear something apart just for the sake of saying he could.

You had informed him that the thing (as you had called it) resided in the boss’s office, and that it never left. Yuta had questioned where the man in question was, but he was informed that he wouldn’t come in until the curse was taken care of. The faintest of red flags waved in the sorcerer’s mind at the thought of the owner of this establishment jumping ship yet still expecting the women to keep it afloat, putting themselves in dangers he wasn’t man enough to face himself. 

He insisted that he didn’t need you to show him where the office was— he could feel it. It was spilling under the cracks of the door, filling his senses with that familiar dread that kicked on his fight or flight everytime. It had been ages since he had the privileged choice of flight though. With the key you’d given him, his nimble fingers worked to unlock the ominous barrier. It creaked open, and, before anything else, a waft of sickeningly sweet perfume wafted into his consciousness. Reaching out blindly, he felt for the light switch before flipping it on. 

A dull light flickered on, flooding the once pitch black room. His eyes met those of the curse almost immediately. Yuta Okkotsu had seen the most grotesque of ghouls and curses in his few years as a jujutsu sorcerer, ones that made the strongest of men flinch back in fear, but he was sure, as he gaped back at this one, that he had never laid eyes on one that made his stomach churn so uneasily. It wasn’t large, or loud— hell, he wasn’t even sure it could be categorized as a grade two. Still, there was something so deeply disquieting about its vacant stare and the whines that left its mangled mouth.

It didn’t move to attack him, it didn’t leave its spot on the worn-down, yellowing couch on the far wall of the office. It laid sprawled out, its limbs almost longer than the furniture itself. Its complexion was pale, but its face was painted dramatically with deep, burgundy rouge as what appeared to be drool dripped out its torn and welted lips, smearing the ruby paint that lined them. 

Yuta’s wide eyes blinked down at it; once, then twice. It mimicked his motions, a tear dropping from its oddly protruding eyes on the second blink. Even as he slowly approached it, unsheathing the katana from his bag, the curse made no move to defend itself. It made his movements falter— they needed a special grade sorcerer for this thing? Gulping down the brimming feeling of nausea, he uncharacteristically turned his cheek as he plunged his katana into its chest, unable to face the demise he was inflicting on it. 

The air in the club was notably lighter as he made his way back out to the main area. From the archway, he could see the new set of dancers on the stage performing a different number. Some of them glanced his way as he sauntered out from the back, but most of them paid him no mind. 

As his haunting eyes sweeped over the crowd of people in search of you, almost instantly spotting you leaned against one of the couches with that performatively provocative smile on your plush lips, he felt that familiar rush of adrenaline flood his system. It almost made him forget about the unease of exorcising the curse he’d come here for, and he pushed through the crowd, shouldering at horny men carelessly in his pursuit. The proximity between you was slowly waning, and it made some of his previous confidence fly out the window. 

Your hand brushed teasingly over the shoulders of the customer you were currently buttering up, and it made Yuta’s chest burn with the fiery hope that it was just the artistry of it all. Still, his logical mind must have abandoned him in favor of something more primal, as he pushed past his doubt to make his way to you. The sorcerer, practically buzzing with a high unlike any other, wasn’t sure what he planned to do when he reached you, but he wouldn’t find out because you turned to face him just as he opened his mouth. 

“Wrapped it up already?” You quipped, a knowing smile playing on your lips. In your eyes though, there was an underlying darkness that he couldn’t quite place. Nonetheless, he followed beside you this time as you made your way back to the bar. 

“All clear, Miss.” Yuta confirmed, feeling almost lightheaded as he awaited your reaction, but you only hummed in response. He huffed out a nervous laugh, watching you distract yourself behind the counter. The blues of his eyes darted about incredulously. “You sound like you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart.” You peered up at him through your heavy false lashes with a slight tilt of your head. The exasperated furrow of his brow was almost endearing, but it wasn’t your intention to step on his ego. “I’m sure you got rid of it for now— just like the five that came before you did.” 

“The five…” His bewildered tone trailed off as your words sunk in. Whether unconscious or not, he leaned in closer to you. “What do you mean for now?”

A soft sigh had your pristine posture falling a bit. It had begun feeling like whatever organization these people were coming from were simply throwing shit at a wall and waiting to see what stuck. After the third attempt though, you had started to lose that spark of hope that lit up each time you’d see one of those familiar, yellow buttons. 

“Well, it usually goes like this—” Yuta’s breath hitched ever so slightly as your stiletto-clad foot pulled the stool beside him closer, now a mere inches away as you sat down gracefully. With an elbow rested casually on the bar, your long, fish-netted leg shifted, brushing against his as you folded it over your thigh. “A bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit comes in here, all high and mighty that they’re going to take care of everything for us.” 

As you recounted, your finger trailed absetmindedly up his arm, making his shoulders tense in anticipation. 

“And you do. You do whatever the hell is you do, and you leave. Everything is fine for a while.” Your fingers squeezed at his bicep teasingly, and you couldn’t help but be a bit surprised at the firmness that seemed to be hiding under his baggy, white shirt. 

Continuing your exploration, you could feel the heat of his blush under your fingers as you trailed up his neck, grazing your nails against his nape. Yuta’s lips parted, leaning his head back unconsciously against your delicate touch. His eagerness made you smile softly— it was almost second nature to tease him, and you wondered when the last time a man so green walked through the doors of this place. 

“And what then?” He breathed out, trying with everything in him to keep his concentration on the conversation at hand. 

Your hand curled around his nape, and you pulled him in closer to you. The abrupt motion had his hand shooting forward, steadying himself with a clammy hand against your thigh lest he fall face first into your chest. 

“And she always comes back.” You whispered, almost losing yourself in the way he stared up at you with those hauntingly wide eyes.

“S-She?”

You nodded softly.

“She, it, the thing. Whatever you people call them. It comes back everytime.”

At your explanation, Yuta forced himself to pull back a bit from your grasp in an attempt to collect himself. With furrowed brows, he shook his head in disbelief. You quirked a brow at this motion, as if both offended and amused that he didn’t believe you. 

“Sorry,” He chuckled nervously, your words still ringing in his head. Never in his years as a sorcerer had he come across a recurring curse. Sure, new ones would arise; usually different in appearance, strength, location, but never the same curse repeatedly. “I’ve just never heard of anything like that, is all.”

“Tell you what,” You countered, your hand finally falling from its gentle caress in his hair and allowing him to think a bit straighter. “Give it two weeks, come back here, and see it for yourself. Make sure it’s a Friday.”

 In truth, he still highly doubted that the curse would come back, but he wasn’t about to pass up on an excuse to come back here and see you again. So, he nodded slowly in agreement, biting back the anticipation that rose in his stomach at the idea that this wouldn’t be your last interaction. 

“Why Friday?” He questioned suddenly, just now processing your request. 

The sly smile that creeped onto your lips almost had him falling to the floor like puddy, the sight sparking an incandescent warmth in his chest that set every nerve in his body ablaze. Sinful. It was the only word Yuta could think to describe the way you looked at him. Maybe it was how you looked at all the men that came in here— it was your job to make them feel wanted, after all. Still, that little spark in your glowing irises did such intricate work in making sure he felt like the only one. 

Leaning in closer to him, you reached up to brush a tuft of his dark hair behind his ear before grazing your lips against its sensitive shell. The hand that had found your thigh to support him squeezed gently at the sensation, fat mushing between his fingers deliciously.

“I always dance on Fridays, Okkotsu.”

Yuta spent the following two weeks in an all-consuming rut, thoughts smoked over by the smell of your perfume and the sensation of your fingertips trailing up his neck. Perhaps he should have given more thought, paid any mind at all to your claims that no one had been able to fully exorcise that strange curse in months, and maybe he would have had he not still been able to feel the plush of your thighs against his fingers. 

In addition to that, his befuddled mind wouldn’t even process the fact that you had invited him back to assure the job was done. No, because as he replayed the scenario in his mind each night, your lips whispered that they wanted to see him again— they wanted him to see you. Of course, it didn’t help that he had become so grossly confident in his cursed techniques. To Yuta, there was no way the thing would come back, not with how cleanly he’d sliced through it, not after he watched it disintegrate before his very eyes. 

So, when he walked through those familiar double doors two weeks later, running his fingers through his hair and straightening his posture to assure he looked the part, the wave of cursed energy that hit him nearly sent him falling onto his own, lovesick ass. Gone was the dreamy, far-off look in his eyes, and, in its place was a fierce confusion as he pushed past the typical group of men oogling women who were far too young for them. 

There was no way. 

He searched for you, unsure if it was to apologize for having brushed off your accusations so rashly, or simply because of the ache that had settled within his bones from the second he left two weeks prior. It felt like he was jumping out of his skin, rubbing at his neck and licking his dry lips incessantly, begging himself to get a grip. It didn’t help that he feared his strangely timed obsession was clouding his judgment on what might actually be going on in this place. 

There was an almost overstimulating ringing beginning to invade Yuta’s mind. His thoughts were scrambled with the sheer force of the energy permeating through the building, ideas fleeting in and out about what could possibly be lurking behind the shadows of this place. Shoulders of rowdy club-goers were pushing into him, only adding onto his state of unnerve with every shove. 

His senses were drawing him toward the back, but just as he began to push through the crowd, the lights of the club died out dramatically. At an almost cosmically slow rate, Yuta turned his head to face the stage that was now being lit up one by one by gold, fluorescent lights— all building up for the grand reveal that was you. 

You— Yuta gaped up at the stage— you with your crimson, glittering bodysuit that clung so sinfully to every curve of your body. You with your calculated sways and pointed, sensual kicks of your heeled feet. You with your sultry eyes that seemed to scan the crowd as you leaned over yourself, shining hair falling teasingly into your intricately painted face until you spotted him. Your brows popped up with a delighted smile, and you winked at the awestruck boy before snapping up in tandem with the beat to continue your choreography. 

The cursed energy continued to swirl around the sorcerer like dark tendrils, but the captivating sway of your hips was fighting for the dominance of his attention. Halfway into your number, he wasn’t sure if the burning that was seeping from his chest and down his stomach was due to the fight or flight instinct triggered by the energy or by the sheer heat that you seemed to shoot into him with each teasing glance over your shoulder to him. 

He seemed to have more depth than the other sorcerers that passed through here, you thought as the number was coming to a close. The others had a different aura to them, almost as if trying to fill shoes they had no business stepping into in the first place. Yuta Okkotsu though, with his tired eyes and messy hair, seemed so humble for a man his organization had deemed stronger than the rest. The bashful tint on his confounded face made you smile, throwing a wink over your shoulder at the crowd of forgotten watchers as you stepped off the stage. 

Yuta thought he might trip over his feet or start a bar fight, whichever came first as he stumbled through the crowd to follow the path you’d taken to the back. It was as though the lingering scent of your alluring perfume guided his trek, utterly indifferent to the people he was elbowing on the way. His once determined walk faltered as he read the ‘dressing room’ sign on the door before him. Tucking his bottom lip nervously between his teeth, he glanced around the vacant hallway before lifting a hesitant fist to knock.

“Come in!” Your muffled voice responded from the other side of the forbidden room. Okkotsu’s wide eyes blinked rapidly, and he bounced on his heels once, then twice, as if it would summon up any courage that might be hiding within his otherwise powerful body. With a final, anxious gulp, he resorted to covered his eyes with one large palm splayed across his face while the other pushed the door open. 

“Uh… sorry, I don’t mean to—”

“You can take a peek if you want, Okkotsu.” Your teasing voice filled his ears as he allowed his outstretched hand to guide his path. 

Yuta stopped dead in his tracks, mouth opening and closing unassuredly with twitching lips. A few unintelligible stammers left him before a soft hand wrapped around the wrist of the hand shielding his eyes and pulled it down. Squinting one eye open as if unprepared for what may be awaiting him, he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed to find you fully clothed before him. 

There was an amused smile illuminating your features, further emphasized by the bright lights on the mirror in front of you. You shook your head softly at him before continuing to take the countless pins from out of your hair. 

“I was only messing with you..” You laughed softly, turning your attention to your reflection as you prepared yourself to go help out with the bar the rest of the night. 

“Right.” Yuta forced a laugh, shifting from one foot to the other as he stood before you. It was silent for a beat too long while he surveyed your concentrated expression. You quirked a curious brow at him, and he seemed to snap into action. “Uh— y-you were incredible out there!”

Tucking your chin into your shoulder, you offered a bashful smile, fluttering your lashes dramatically at him. 

“You think so?”

“Of course I do. What you do— it’s art, really.” He continued to gush sincerely as you shook out your hair and stood. 

“I’m glad you liked it, Okkotsu.” There was a fondness in your breathy laugh as you turned your back to him. “So, did you come here just to give me feedback on my performance? Get the zipper for me, will ya’, sweetheart?”

“Oh!” Yuta stammered out, staring down at your expectant form. Willing himself to man the fuck up, he wiped his perspiring palms on his pants before grasping the zipper, placing his free hand shakily on your bare shoulder to steady his movement. He turned his head to the side as the little metal accessory slid down your bodice, grasping at straws to maintain his composure. “Uh, no. I-I actually wanted to talk to you about the curse.”

“Curse?” You questioned absentmindedly as you stepped out of the sturdy body-suit and reached for your silk robe. 

“The thing in the owner’s office.” He peeked around carefully just in time to catch you tying the smooth fabric around your waist. “It’s back.”

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?”

“Well, yes, but it just doesn’t—” 

“Help me!” A desperate voice tore into the conversation as the door flew open and smacked against the wall before shutting dramatically. Two girls in similar outfits to those you had just donned on the stage flooded into the dressing room, one of them sinking to their knees theatrically before you. 

Yuta stepped back in astonishment at the scene before him, suddenly feeling very much out of place— moreso than he already did. 

“I know you’ve shown me like a hundred times, but I can’t for the life of me keep my bangs up the way you did.” The frantic girl rambled, grasping at your hands and shoving what looked to be hairpins into your palm. “Please, can you please just fix them? I have to go up in like three minutes!”

The smile that graced your lips at the girl’s theatrics was different from the ones you’d previously shown Yuta, and all the other club-goers for that matter. It was softer, holding a fondness in it that your teasing smirks and sultry pouts couldn’t quite convey. Your freshly undone hair swayed as you shook your head affectionately at your fellow dancer before motioning her to sit with her back to you. 

“You girls are going to be the death of me.” You quipped, opening a hair clip with your teeth as you pinpointed her traitorous bangs. “What if I get sick one day? Hm? Your bangs will never be the same— and you’ll remember when I told you that you’d regret cutting them! I told her she would, you know.” 

You glanced up at the sorcerer with a humorous smirk before turning your attention back to her hair emergency.

“And who might you be, mister?” The other dancer that had accompanied on the ‘rescue mission’ drawled out with an airy giggle, looking down at her friend gleefully. 

“Girls, this is Yuta Okkotsu.” You introduced knowingly as you reached for the can of hairspray on your vanity. “He’s helping us out with some maintenance this week, so talk nice to him, hm?”

Both girls glanced knowingly at each other at the sound of ‘maintanence’. Yuta got the vibe suddenly that they were all very aware of what was going on in this club, no matter the efforts you seemed to have made to keep them in the dark. 

“Must be real strong then, huh?” The girl beside him estimated, wrapping her arms around his bicep. He felt his heart leap into his throat, his shoulders seeming to tense on their own accord. “How about a private dance— whaddya’ say, Yuta Okkotsu?” 

“Oh, that’s really not, uh—” His mind couldn’t seem to work fast enough to keep up with his anxiety as he watched the two girls glance at eachother with tickled smiles. It felt like he was back in highschool, feeling as though half of the time everyone was in on a joke he’d never be privy to. 

“They’re messing with you, Okkotsu.” You finally chided, giving the giggling girl in front of you a playful tap on the side of her head. His ever-pleading, midnight eyes shot up to meet you, and he was once again forcing a laugh. “We don’t do private dances around here.”

“And we can’t make an exception?” The hands around his arm tightened as the girl pouted dramatically at him. 

Your bubbly laugh filled the air around them again, and you could hardly get onto the vibrant girls for being so giddy around the sorcerer. It wasn’t often that young men came around here— attractive ones that is. Better yet, attractive ones with manners. You assumed that they, like you, couldn’t help but push the wide eyed recruit a bit upon sensing his jumpy personality. 

“Go on— you all have hungry customers waiting.” You joked, giving them both a playful tap on their rears as they stood. 

Twisting on their heels, they hooked arms as they gave the poor, stammering boy one last look over. 

“Let us know if you change your mind, Yuta Okkotsu.”

“You’ll know where to find us, handsome.”

Yuta could only wave silently at him, whatever cat that had his tongue seeming determined on keeping it far from him. Behind him, you snickered quietly. There was so much warmth you held in your heart for your fellow dancers— one that was clear even to Yuta himself even if only seeing it for a few minutes.

“You ladies are… really happy here, huh?”

“Of course we are.” You responded immediately, almost defensively. Truthfully though, the boy didn’t mean it in any sort of way. You had been a dancer long enough though to know what others thought about the way you all chose to express yourself artistically. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Well, I only meant—” Yuta paused, looking down at the stray hair pin hiding within your locks. He hesitated once before carefully reaching out to pluck it gently from your hair. You seemed to have been caught off guard by his tender actions, the typical bravado front you donned falling into a soft expression. Smiling apologetically at you, he muttered something about forgetting one before placing it on your vanity and continuing. “Curses; they usually manifest in areas where negative emotions are common. With this one reoccurring, I just thought…”

His explanation made you snap from your stupor. You looked up at him inquisitively. The slight urgency in your posture made him tilt his head in question. Leaning forward, Yuta had to seriously concentrate to keep his gaze respectfully on your face as the movement made your robe fall forward just a hair. 

“They… they come from negative emotions?” You questioned, searching his wide eyes as if he was lying to you. 

Reaching up, he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. 

“Um, yeah. They—”

Before he could finish, the door flew open once more, but this time no pretty, giggling women accompanied the abrupt entry. Instead, a short, burly man stumbled in with purpose. The irritated look on his perspiring face had Yuta moving almost instinctively to step in front of your indecent form. Had he been given the chance, the sorcerer would have asked the man if he’d stepped into the wrong room— given him a chance before assuming he was a rowdy club-goer perhaps pushing for a private dance that he’d already been made aware did not exist. Just as his fingers twitched to reach for his katana though, the man began blabbering. 

“You—” The man pointed over Yuta’s shoulder at you before stepping forward with little care. “We need you at the bar, the new girl is useless back there. And you—”

The man, who Yuta had now deduced must be the owner with the way he was speaking, jabbed a stubby finger into the center of his chest. The boy made no movement, staring firmly at the demanding man in assessment. It unsettled something deep within him, the way this man seemed so comfortable bursting through the door of the girls’ dressing room without so much of a warning knock. 

“You were supposed to be getting that shit outta my office— not sampling my dancers.” 

The use of the word sampling also didn’t sit quite right with him, but he was already being led out of the dressing room with a firm grasp on his shoulder. He whipped his head around to look at you, but you were only shaking your head in disdain, searching for your bodysuit. 

There was something, Yuta determined as he took the familiar path to the office, that was lurking in the walls of this place. Something wasn’t clicking, and he knew as he slayed the curse once more that evening that it wouldn’t be the last time. 

He found you later that evening as he was hesitantly making his way out and slipped you his phone number. You raised a brow at his forwardness, an expression that had his neck warming embarrassingly fast. 

“I-In case something happens.” He quickly explained as you folded up the small paper and tucked it into the chest of your bodice. “Just call me— I’ll come.” 

Little did he know, you had been sitting on your own assumptions since his explanation earlier in the dressing room. You weren’t sure though, as you looked around at the glittering faces of the women you’d practically taken in as your sisters, that you were ready to face the implications that explaining it to him would mean. This type of artistry, this industry wasn’t easy to build yourself up in, but you had all cultivated something so beautiful here. With everything in you, you were torn on what was the right step to take to protect it. 

Yuta Okkotsu, unaware of the internal battle your mind was raging, wasn’t expecting a call so soon. It had taken everything in him to quiet his thoughts long enough to slip into unconsciousness. His mind kept racing with possibilities— with the feeling that something was crawling under his skin, much like he assumed something was crawling through three very essence of that establishment. 

He thought of you and the look on your face when he’d explained how cursed manifested. He thought about what you may have revealed to him had your boss not interrupted. He thought about your boss— that man that seemed to have zero regard for the delicate position he was put into. Men who had that kind of power over women and liked it. 

Those kinds of assumptions would only drive him insane without any real basis for them— Yuta assured himself as he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. So, he thought of you instead; the way your silky skin felt under his finger tips, the way the sight of your genuine smile made his heart soar, only partially sour at the thought that it wasn’t one he’d caused. 

Of course they’re happy. 

It was what he told himself in hopes of getting any sleep that night. Just as his prayers had been answered though, and his mind drifted into a state that graced him with images of you and your torturously supple hips, his phone sliced through the first pleasant dream he’d had in ages. 

Sitting up with a jolt, Yuta felt almost unnecessarily violent toward the offending device. Grunting in frustration, he tossed his pillows about the room until his frantic hand gripped the vibrating phone. It was an unknown number, but that wasn’t an unusual sight for him. He often got calls regarding missions at ridiculous hours of the night— only adding onto his already abysmal sleep schedule and perpetually tired appearance. 

“Hello?” The exhausted man rasped out, rubbing at his eye roughly. 

“Okkotsu?” The voice that had just been lulling him to sleep via fleeting memories and desperate fantasy rang through the device. 

“Is everything okay?” Without a second thought, the once begrudged boy was swinging his legs over the side of his bed. Snatching the shirt that was hanging out the side of his drawer, he frantically shrugged it on. “What’s going on?”

“No— it’s fine, everything’s okay.” Your tone didn’t convince him, and he moved to shimmy into his pants. On the other line, you chewed apprehensively at your bottom lip, toying with the tie of your robe. Your throat felt like it had its own heartbeat. “I just— what you said before, about there usually being lots of negative energy where curses manifest…”

“If there’s something going on you need to tell me.” Yuta urged, his fingers gripping the phone a little tighter. 

“Say we get rid of the negative energy… would it stop?” 

“What do you need to get rid of?” His tone was almost desperate at this point, wanting so badly to have his endless questions answered. He was shoving his shoes haphazardly onto his feet before tossing his katana over his shoulder. “Whatever it is, I can take care of it. You just need to trust me.” 

Take care of it— his words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the uncertainty you’d be left with should he succeed. Looking over at the three dancers that had just rushed in, all huddled close and giggling plans about a choreography they had been working on, the confidence you had when you dialed his number seemed to dissipate. Your shoulders dropped, and you shook your head. 

“Nothing, just… curiosity I guess.” You attempted a laugh, though it sounded bitter falling from your lips. 

“It would stop.” Yuta finally assured in hopes of getting through to you. “If you got rid of the influx of negative energy— the curse would stop coming back.”

“Okkotsu—”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of the door opening, and he could hear your bosses muffled voice on the other end. It sounded as though he was calling for you, making the sorcerer curse with his poor timing.

“I’ve gotta go.” You dismissed dejectedly.

“Wait—” But the line was already beeping, indicating that you had ended the call. No sooner than it ended was Yuta shoving his phone into his pocket and making his way to you once again. 

When he arrived back at the now familiar club, they were clearly in the process of wrapping up for the night. There weren’t any performers on the stage, and there were only a few more patrons left, all huddled by the bar and finishing up their drinks. 

“Yuta Okkotsu!” One of the girls called out excitedly. He recognized her as the one with the bang crisis, and he managed a tight lipped smile at her, eyes darting around in search of you. “Change your mind already?”

“Oh, haha,” His laugh was forced and awkward, and the girl could tell. She smiled knowingly at him. “No I uh— have you seen—”

“She’s with the boss.” She explained, leaning down to collect a few empty glasses from the table. Her sharp eyes peered at him from her peripheral— almost in warning. “You can wait out here for her if ya want.” 

“It’s an emergency.” Yuta explained halfheartedly, already making his way toward the back hallway. The girl was calling out to him, but it seemed an indescribable force was keeping him moving. There was something, so clearly being displayed before him, but he couldn’t seem to place it. It made his skin crawl, an unbridled sense of doom looming in his chest. He couldn’t stand by— not when he knew in his heart that something wasn’t right, and not when he knew he could do something about it. 

As he pushed open the owner’s door however, he wasn’t prepared for the nature of his revelation. Your back was facing the door, those cascading locks of hair that he felt he could pick out of a crowd, knelt in front of the couch before you. That beautiful frame that had haunted Yuta’s dreams was positioned between the legs of your boss, his pants pooled around his knees. 

It was silent, as both you and the man you had in your mouth turned to face the intruder. Your eyes were wide, glossy, and fluttering around anxiously as you met the sorcerer’s gaze. There was no explaining your way out of the situation, a clear picture painted already. 

One of the man’s burly hands was tangled almost aggressively in your scalp, pulling at the roots in a manner that was pinching the skin of your face back ever so slightly. Tracks of tears painted your face— one that was for the first time bared to Yuta, free of the makeup and the glitter. In the absence of the art laid your raw fear, the humiliation, and regret. It was an expression so familiar, so haunting since the first time he’d seen it. It was the same one the curse wore before he exorcised it both times. 

Everything was clicking into place, but all Yuta could bring himself to do was blink slowly at the scene before him. The owner, already red in the face with sweat dripping down his temples, seemed aggravated at the intrusion.

“Get the hell—”

“Go.” Yuta demanded with an eerie calmness, his eyes directed at you. Your mouth open and closed, chest heaving with uncertainty. “Go and get all the customers out of here.” 

As if sensing the overwhelming waves of instability that seemed to be rolling off of the wide eyed boy, you could only stumble up, the hand that gripped your hair falling as Yuta took a threatening step forward. 

“Okkotsu—” Your frail attempt to stop him from whatever he might do was futile as he silently offered a hand to help you up, eyes still locked on the dumbfounded man sat on the couch.

“Go.” 

With a heaving chest, you took one last look at the two before rushing out. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The owner finally stammered out, working quickly to fasten his pants back up.

Yuta watched as the door shut behind him before slowly turning his gaze back to his target. 

“How many?” He questioned lowly. 

“The hell are you talking about?” 

“How many of these women have you taken advantage of?” His voice finally rose to match the fire burning within his bones. It wavered with the intensity of his fury, but not once did his stance falter. 

“Taken advantage of?” The boss tutted, standing up to grab a glass of scotch as though he hadn’t just been exposed as the true piece of scum he was. “You should have seen where half these girls came from. They all have it made here, so what if they all have to pay their dues every once and a while?” 

The sorcerer felt his fingers twitch in anticipation for his next move. His sanity felt as though it was ever so slowly slipping down the drain of his psyche, replaced by a carnal desire ringing from deep within him. 

“All of them?” It was more of a statement than a question as Yuta lunged forward to grip the man by the lapels of his suit. The glass of alcohol in his hands slipped with the sudden jostle, crashing against the floor by their feet. “How many are there?” 

“You’re picking a fight with the wrong guy, kid.” The man warned, though he didn’t know the half of what the seemingly lackluster boy before him was capable of. “Cut the hero bullshit. You were hired to get rid of the shit that was in my office. No need to get all holy on me.” 

“You’re the only shit around here that needs to be ridden of.” Faster than his own mind could even process, his fist had collided with the man’s nose. 

The sickening sound of skin pounding against flesh seemed to drown out the last bit of restraint Yuta had been hanging onto as he poured his energy into this scum’s demise. He thought about the curse that he’d exorcised in this very room, how she cried yet made no move to fight back. The man gurgled up spats of blood as Okkotsu’s knee lodged between his ribs, thoughts flooding his enraged mind of how powerless these women must have felt to have manifested a curse incapable of doing anything but accepting her fate. Yuta thought about you, about all the women just like you who were backed into a corner for the sake of their own artistry— their passion. 

“Pl-ease,” The man gasped out, grasping weakly at the hand Yuta still had curled around his suit. “I can give you anything. Connections, money, the girls— anything. Please don’t kill me.”

The girls. 

The thought made his stomach churn. Until his very end, he still only saw the very pillars of his success as items to be used.

“No,” Yuta breathed, an unnerving smile splitting across his since enraged face. “I won’t kill you. That’s not my job.”

The frantic chatter of the girls in the main floor filled the otherwise vacant club as Yuta stepped up onto the stage. Behind him, the bloodied and thrashing form of the owner was being dragged up by the neck of his suit. All eyes in the room snapped up to the stage in shock as the tall boy wiped at his blood stained cheek with the back of his hand. The girl’s collectively gasped as he tossed the man forward and unsheathed his katana, positioning it pointedly at the boss’s back. 

“Tell me what you want me to do with him.” Yuta announced, blown out eyes sweeping across the room. He found your gaping gaze almost instantly, taking in the way the other girls seemed to huddle beside you in search of solace. After a moment of stunned silence, he elaborated. “I can take him to the police station now if that’s what you want.” 

He took two slow and calculated steps forward, placing his foot on the man’s back as he attempted to get up. A loose strand of his dark hair swayed in his eyes as he looked back up dangerously. “Or I can kill him right here.”

There was a glint in each one of the dancer’s eyes, one that said they didn’t find his latter suggestion as outrageous as they perhaps should have. Each one of them glanced at one another, unspoken uncertainty bouncing between the group heavily. After a pregnant silence, it was you who finally spoke up, stepping closer to the stage to look up at Yuta. 

“You can’t kill him.” You urged, even if there was nothing that would satisfy you more than watching the life drain from his eyes. Okkotsu peered down at you with furrowed brows, and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. “This place is all I have— all any of us have.” 

The thusfar impossibly tight grip he had on the hilt of his katana seemed to loosen at your confession. 

“If he dies— we don’t know what will happen to it. Anyone can buy it— turn it into whatever they want.” Leaning forward, your own indecisiveness was making your chest heave. On one hand, it killed you knowing that he had gotten away with the hurt he was causing for so long. Even moreso, it killed you each time a new girl was brought in, hopeful for the family she would make in the tight-knit group, only to be subjected to the same fate as the rest. Alternatively, you knew what the lives of many of these girls were like before finding their place within their artistry, and none of you were quite prepared to risk it— even if it meant enduring his putrid displays of depravity. “All we have is each other, Yuta.”

His heart broke with each tear that rolled down your cheek and onto the freshly cleaned stage. Yuta had seen it first hand— how you all reveled in your craft, how each of you breathed life into this place. He had also seen the way you all kept eachother afloat despite the shared, unfortunate circumstances you found yourselves in. 

“He’ll hand over the deed.” The suggestion tumbled out more like a demand, and the man beneath him began to grumble something along the lines of like hell I will. Yuta pressed the tip of his katana into his back before snatching his head up by the little hair he had left on his scalp. “I wasn’t asking.” 

It was almost half an hour of timid shuffling around his office, katana still pressed against his back as he sifted frantically through his papers for the damned property deed. He was blabbering some half-assed excuse about their needing to be a proper transfer signing for the business, but Yuta quickly reminded him that they’d have plenty of time to work those details out while he was rotting in a cell. 

The police came shortly after upon one of the girls’ call. After taking him into custody, Yuta stayed back as each girl gave their statement to the officer, chiming in as a witness when needed. It was uncomfortable— listening to each one of them recount the atrocities they’d been subjected to for so long. The unease almost had him wanting to wait somewhere else for the time being, but he felt he owed it to them to stick it out. 

So, he hovered close by until the last officer left the building. It was already almost early morning hours, all the girls clearly exhausted having not had the chance to rest following their shift. Despite their worn out auras, they summoned enough energy to grin gleefully at Yuta as he stacked the last chair on the table. Gone was his somber and frankly intimidating demeaner, and in its place was that shy, wobbly smile as he took in their hopeful expressions. 

“C’mon, don’t get all shy on us now, Yuta Okkotsu.” 

“Yeah, who knew— it really is always the quiet ones.” 

In spite of their teasing tones, they were all stepping forward to envelop the boy in a tight, group hug. There were hushed thank you’s being whispered into his ear as the sea of dancers seemed to squeeze him at all angles, him not sure where one ended and the other began. It was coming back to him— that high for his job that had thusfar been missing. He was realizing with each appreciative kiss to his cheek that it was never about the curses, but the lives that were spared in the wake of his chaos. 

“Don’t crush the guy, he’s got the deed.” Your voice rang out from outside the swarm. They slowly released him, and you had to bite back your laughter at the various red lipstick marks that were now covering his face. You wrapped your arms fondly around your sisters, a soft smile gracing your features. “Now go on, get home. I’m calling a mandatory meeting tomorrow, so you all better be bright eyed and bushy tailed when you come back.”

Each girl said their respective goodbyes, and Yuta got a few more rushed hugs and bows of thanks to which he waved off each time. 

“You could have told me, you know.” He stated as he watched you lock up the front door. You turned to peer at him with an unreadable expression. The closer you grew to him, the more his previous confidence was sinking into the wood floor beneath him. 

“Yeah, I guess I could have.” You reflected honestly, your hand trailing up his chest and toward his face. 

The delicate pads of your fingers gripped at his lip-stick stained cheeks, and you determined that red really was his color. Yuta gulped anxiously under your watchful eye, and he quickly reached into his back pocket to pull out the folded up deed. 

“I, uh, believe this belongs to you now.” He chuckled breathlessly, watching your gaze soften as you took the deed into your hands. “You’ll do great, I know it.”

Your eyes skimmed across the miniscule writing before looking back up at him through your lashes. The paper fell to the floor between you two. 

“You think so?” You breathed with a tempting smirk beginning to take form on your lips. At once, your hands came up to rest on his surprisingly sturdy shoulders, and you pushed him down into the chair behind him. 

He could feel the way he was embarrassingly already straining against the fabric of his pants, making him shift skittishly in his seat.

“I-I do.” The sorcerer attempted to keep his voice level as you stepped between his spread legs. 

“You’ll come back to visit, won’t you, Yuta?” 

The heels of his feet dug into the ground as he pressed himself back against the chair, willing himself to pull it together with each dig of his fingers into his thighs. Nonetheless, he nodded quickly at your question. 

“Yes, yes, I promise I’ll—” He cut himelf off with a stunned gasp, watching you sink to your knees before him. Not wanting to get ahead of himself, he only watched as your palms met his knees, trailing up tantalizingly before confirming his suspicions with a purposeful palm against his aching length. Somewhere between a choke and a moan, Yuta forced himself to sit up, grasping your hands gently in his. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

The way you gazed up at him, pressing your cheek against his thigh, almost made him reconsider his stance as a decent, respectful man. Twisting your hand in his grasp, you laced your fingers in his. 

“And if I want to?”

“You just— I wasn’t expecting anything from any of you.” He explained sincerely, toying absentmindedly with your nimble fingers. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

“Yuta,” You drawled out, sitting up until you were at least level with his chest. His shallow breaths fanned out against your face as he hunched over to accommodate the space between you. “Let me be the one to choose for once, yeah?” 

And he couldn’t possibly argue with you any further as you worked his pants down his legs. Any apprehension or semblance of restraint drained from him with the first daring stripe you tongued up his cock. Tossing his head back with a strangled whine, he missed the way you stared up at him. The sight of his stained cheeks and mustled hair had you unintentionally moaning against him, and you weren’t sure when blood-soaked clothing started ticking off boxes for you. 

Your tongue lapped against his sensitive tip with every bob of your lips down his length. His fingers dug into his thighs once again, surely leaving scratches in their wake, but he was determined even in his lust clouded mind not to guide your movements as he so desperately wanted to do. Yuta wanted you to be in full control of the situation.

 It was proving difficult though, much more than he’d anticipated as the hand that wasn’t clasped around the base of his cock creeped under his shirt to feel his lean abs tensing under your touch. Despite his best efforts, his hips seemed to buck up on their own accord to match your steady rhythm. 

“Shit!” The uncharacteristic profanity slipped from his mouth as he panted up at the ceiling. Sparing a glance down at you, he resorted to crossing his wrists behind his chair, his fingers twitching to grasp at you. 

You were almost surprised at the pitchy moans that continued to fly out of him, but they only encouraged your efforts. It was cathartic watching him fall apart beneath you after all the anxious smiles and respectful distance. Under all of it, this Yuta Okkotsu was hidden the whole time, waiting for his respective turn to snap— much like all the other parts of him, you’d gathered. There were no nervous laughs anymore, just frantic writhes against the already wobbling chair while his chest heaved dramatically. 

As he spilled his release, perhaps a little too soon, but hell, it was almost endearing, you couldn’t think of any man more deserving of this part of you. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips, eyebrows drawn together as he attempted to collect himself. You snaked up his body, working to push his dark locks from his perspiring forehead. His wide eyes shot open at the sensation, and he found himself flushing under your tender gaze. 

Hesitantly, his hands moved from their crushing grasp behind his chair to cup your cheeks, searching your face for protest. There were remnants of him pooling at the corner of your mouth, but he simply wiped at it haphazardly with his thumb before pressing his lips against yours with a boyish aim. Your eyes remained wide open for a moment, surveying the way his were shut tightly. You slowly allowed yours to do the same. 

“I—uh,” Yuta’s lips were nearly still pressed to your as he stammered. Against you, you could feel him smile shyly. You pulled back a bit, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about now that he’d just practically licked himself from your mouth. He couldn’t help himself though. In his imaginary book of social norms and world fallacies, guys like him didn’t end up with girls like you. “I know this is a little backwards, but do you think I could take you to dinner sometime? Maybe?”

You smiled, that genuine smile he’d been dying to be on the receiving end of since the first time he saw it. Placing yourself comfortably in his lap, you pretended to hum in consideration.

“Hm, I don’t know, Yuta. I’m a business owner now— not sure I’ll have time for shady, ghost-buster characters.” 

He laughed at your accusation, his once shy demeanor melting away with your playful banter. His hands slid around your waist to hold you steady as he tilted his head. 

“Guess I’ll have to come every Friday night then, huh? Wouldn’t want to miss a dance.”

a/n: this song came on while I was driving, and I almost crashed the car when the inspo for this fic hit me

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[msunitedstatesjames]

Ranking Veilguard Companion Questlines:

This ranking is truly based off how much I enjoyed the questlines overall, not how much I like each character. I liked all the companions and overall liked their quests, but some really stood out to me more than others.

7. Neve

Neve was one of my favorite companions in terms of personality, and depending on the choices you make she can have a really interesting role in the endgame. However, her quests felt kind of bland and one note to me. Evil blood mages are kind of old hat in the DA games at this point, and Aelia just didn't really stand out from the crowd as a villain. There were some pretty gruesome moments in the final quest where Aelia is puppeting people, but overall I just didn't find these quests to be super memorable.

6. Harding

This one should probably be higher up the list just for its lore implications, but for some reason I just didn't feel all that engaged with her storyline. I guess I wanted a little more. Harding implies that she's struggling with her powers, but we're never really shown much of that, other than the fact that she has confusing dreams now. She talks about her anger in regards to the Titan revelation, but again, I think we needed more. She only really seems angry for brief moments here and there, which makes it a little hard to believe when her final choice is pretty much whether or not to hold onto her anger. She does talk about how she's kind of a people pleaser and likes to seem cheerful as a result, but if that's the case they still coild have done more with that.

5. Bellara

Going into this, I had to remind myself about some of the details of Bellara's storyline, because other than the situation with her brother I didn't immediately remember her plot. The problem I have with her story is that sometimes it feels like there are two separate issues at play, the Archive and her brother. They do end up being connected, but it feels kind of loose. Dealing with the feelings of betrayal and grief in regards to her brother did add an important emotional resonance to her story, so that helped rank her above some others. The choice you make in the end feels very meaningful in terms of the world, but we don't have the chance to see it play out in any meaningful way within the game. I would have liked to see a noticeable shift of some kind, at least in Veiljumper territory, based on Bellara's choice, but all we got is one moment in the finale where the game has to tell us we're seeing the results of her decision.

4. Lucanis

Lucanis's storyline had some pretty cool scenes. The Ossuary. Going into his own mind. Confronting Zara. But considering everything he has going on, at times his storyline seemed like it needed more fleshing out. This dude is a non-mage possessed by a demon. Is that ever really explained other than by the fact that Zara was just a freaky, evil experimenter? We've had so many characters in DA with absolutely nightmarish experiences with possession, and honestly everyone is just pretty cool with Lucanis and Spite just being a chill partnership, maybe because he's not a mage. I know there are comments about how people probably aren't actually cool with it, Lucanis says as much about the Crows in the end, but we don't really get to see that. It might have been interesting for there to be more tangible tension between Lucanis and those around him based on his demonic possession.

3. Taash

I really struggled with where to place Taash's questline, as some aspects felt quite weak and others felt deeply meaningful. In the end, I surprised myself by ranking them so high. When I immediately look back on their questlines, there doesn't seem to be a lot there. Taash hunts around for some dragons, has dinner with their mom, and finally in the end fights the Dragon King. Taash's story is perhaps less related to the overall plot of Veilguard than any other character but Emmrich, which didn't necessarily help. And though I find Taash's quest for identity to be an important one, it doesn't lend itself to the same kind of excitement as some of the others. Still, emotionally this series of quests ends up doing a lot of heavy lifting. Specifically, I found Taash's relationship with Shathann to lend a lot to their story. Even if you can't relate to Taash's struggles with gender or identity, almost everyone can relate to the struggle between a parent and a child. I was never quite sure what to think of Shathann. And I think that's very real. When I look at the parents of my friends and loved ones I often see the duality of everything they've done out of love for their children and everything they've done that has harmed them. At times I found Shathann to be caring and protective, at other times to be borderline abusive and too desiring of control over Taash's life. And though this situtaion might be extreme compared to many people's experiences with their parents, there's an almost innate toxicity to all parent child relationships at one point or another, as a child tries to grow in one direction that might not be what the parent wants or hopes. And I think these quests walk that thin line we all tread at one point or another in our lives, where you have someone that you love even when you feel that they don't deserve your love or deserve you, but you still can't help but care about them anyway. But in the end Taash does love their mother, and when Shathann dies Taash's rage feels very real, as does their entire relationship dynamic throughout the game.

2. Davrin

Davrin's story benefits from being perhaps more closely tied in to the world and the story of Veilguard than any other. The Grey Wardens and the Blight have always been central to DA, and only Origins has made them more central than Veilguard did. But Davrin and Assan really did steal my heart. At first, I didn't find Davrin to be especially exciting. He seemed like just another stoic warrior type. But the more time you spent with he and Assan and the other Wardens, the more you came to love him. The Gloom Howler storyline, along with the return of the griffons, was fascinating and the stakes felt extremely high. The stakes felt so high in fact that I often wondered how Davrin remained so calm as Rook paraded around the Necropolis Gardens or Arlathan while the Gloom Howler was off somewhere doing who knew what to the world's only family of griffons. The choice you made about the griffons was honestly the hardest in the game for me. Many of the other choices felt obvious from a typical heroic video game character sense of morality, where the game designers seem to want you to pick the happy, cheerful, forgiving route over any other. But the griffon choice had no obvious answer to a question I didn't even expect to be asked, and I stared at the screen for a while before I made it. My one problem with this is that it felt bizarre for Rook to even be making such a choice. And the other good thing about this quest is that at least you get to visit with the griffons a few times after the choice to get a little taste of how your choice is panning out. The interesting thing will be to see if this choice plays into any future DA stories and games.

1.Emmrich

All right, I can't even pretend to be unbiased here. If you scroll through my blog you will see countless Emmrich posts. This dude was my unexpected romance choice and my unexpected favorite companion in the game. He has interesting commentary in most situations, his voice acting is delightful, and he stands out as a fresh and unique character among many wonderful DA companions over the years. But this is supposed to be about his questline, not just how much I adore him. I've written extensively about my love for these quests elsewhere on my blog, but I'll restate the basics here. His questline had one major thing going for it from the very beginning, that being that we've heard much about the Mourn Watch and the Necropolis, but have never had the chance to experience any of it. I was immediately intrigued to learn more about them. I very much expect a certain dark and spooky vibe from Necromancers, but in many ways the Necromancers in this questline defy expectations. Yeah, they're still kind of weirdos who love everything to do with the dead, but Emmrich is a kind, compassionate weirdo and Hezenkoss is, despite being the villain, kind of just a dorky chick. And yet, somehow this makes her the best villain in the game. She's evil. She tortures souls. She wants to embody a giant skeleton and rule over Nevarra City as a giant, immortal skeleton queen. She wants to commit murders because her peers are too dull, too stupid, or have committed plagirism. She has weird little gestures she does as she discusses her evil plan. She uses overdramatic, stereotypical villain language like calling everyone "fools" and complaining about Emmrich's "sanctimonius bleating." She completely believes that Emmrich is the main character in this story, he must be because she believes herself to be the main villain. She's just as much of a nerd as Emmrich and equally as skilled, and in fact reflects quite poignantly the atrocities Emmrich could have committed if he wasn't so deeply compassionate. She's an extremely memorable villain compared to others in the companion quests (and even the main quest), and she's all the better because she helps define Emmrich that much more clearly, which is exactly the job of a good companion quest and a good villain. She's so good that she's even brought back to bicker with Emmrich from beyond death for the rest of the game. All that, and I haven't even touched on Emmrich's big choice. The lich choice is so effective because it forces Emmrich to confront his very clearly stated worst fear, death, which is doubly interesting considering his occupation. It's also such a good choice because it presents you with an immediate and tangible effect, unlike many other quests. Either you save Manfred and Emmrich remains mortal, or you lose Manfred and Emmrich transforms into an immortal skeleton. Either way, you're bound to notice and feel the difference. Even without a major main quest connection, this storyline was just so well done.

[ikkyfics]

James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James has been cast as Romeo and you hatch a daring plan to steal the role of Juliet. The script never stood a chance.

Warnings: muggle!AU, fluffy, marauders making crazy plans, light angst

Materlist

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“Please.” James asked once again, stretching out the words in a syrupy tone while giving you that pleading look he knew was practically irresistible. To top it off, he exaggerated a pout—a weapon he loved using against you.

You, however, held your ground—or at least tried to. “No, James. I’m not getting on that stage. Give it up.” Your voice came out exasperated, but the irritation was more theatrical than genuine. You returned your gaze to the book in your hands, as if reading was remotely possible with your charming boyfriend so close to you. After classes, he had followed you home, sprawling out on your bed and begging for your attention. He was practically draped over you, his face resting just below your chest, purring like a kitten as your fingers combed through his unruly hair. Of course, he wasn’t satisfied sharing your attention with the book, occasionally nibbling on your skin whenever you stopped stroking his hair.

James, naturally, wasn’t ready to give up. “Love, I’ll be there with you.” He smiled softly, lifting his face to lock his eyes with yours. His fingers tapped the corner of the open book before he rested his chin on it, blocking your view. “Be my Juliet.”

It had been a few days since the school announced that auditions for Juliet’s role were open, and ever since James, who had landed the role of Romeo, had been asking you to try out.

You raised your eyebrows at him. “That’s the least romantic thing you could’ve said. Juliet? Seriously?”

He blinked, clearly offended. “They’re like, the most romantic couple of all time. It’s a classic!”

“It’s tragic,” you corrected without hesitation, shutting the book with more force than necessary. “They knew each other for what, a week? Two teenagers with raging hormones making impulsive decisions. No, thank you.”

James placed a hand on his chest as if he’d been stabbed. “That’s cruel. They died for love. True love, mind you.”

You sighed, a smile starting to creep up as you watched his dramatic expression. It was nearly impossible not to laugh when he pulled those faces. “James, they were way too young and completely reckless. If they had survived, they’d probably be divorced in five years.”

He looked genuinely outraged now, his eyes wide with indignation behind his glasses. “You can’t say that! They—”

Losing patience with the debate, you put the book aside and cupped his face in your hands. “The difference between us and them,” you began, softening your tone, “is that I would never lose you, James.”

The blush that painted his cheeks was instant, and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. It was rare to leave him speechless, but whenever you did, you made sure to savor the moment. You took the opportunity to lean in, letting your lips brush across his face in soft kisses, relishing how warm and smooth his skin was. Magnificent. With each kiss, a sigh or a soft chuckle escaped him, bubbling out like music.

“I still think you’d make an amazing Juliet,” he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead as he returned the affection. “Just saying.”

(…)

A few days later, the afternoon passed peacefully, and by lunchtime, you found yourself surrounded by the Marauders in the school courtyard. Sirius took up most of the space beside you, lounging with his typical carefree attitude, while Remus sat quietly with a book open on his lap, his eyes glued to the pages. Peter, as usual, seemed more interested in the food than anything else, and James, seated by your side, made sure to keep one of his hands intertwined with yours as he spoke.

“So, she refused to be Juliet,” James announced to the group, his tone laced with fake indignation.

Sirius let out a loud laugh, brushing his dark hair away from his face. “Can’t believe you thought she’d agree. She hates being the center of attention; you know that.”

“Exactly!” you said, pointing a fry at Sirius before popping it into your mouth. “Finally, someone who gets me.”

James rolled his eyes dramatically. “You’re all so unromantic. Where’s your artistic spirit?”

“Probably running away from you,” Sirius quipped with a sarcastic grin. “But honestly, she’s right. Romeo and Juliet are just two love-drunk idiots. The story makes no sense.”

“Oh, not you too,” James groaned, throwing his head back. “Remus, at least you agree with me?”

Remus glanced up from his book, clearly uninterested in joining the debate. “I agree with whatever lets me get back to reading,” he said, returning to his pages.

Peter chuckled through a mouthful of food. “I think it’d be funny if she agreed just to make James all nervous on stage.”

“I don’t get nervous,” James said, offended, though Sirius’s mischievous grin suggested he was just getting started.

The conversation flowed, full of teasing and laughter. James stole the occasional kiss from you between exchanges, making sure to grab your attention with overly sweet gestures that earned complaints from the group—Sirius especially. He wasted no time making comments about how the two of you were like rabbits and should find the nearest room already.

Later, during a free period, you found James sitting in the library, his eyes fixed on the script, pausing only to adjust his glasses. He looked focused, but the smile on his face made it clear he was enjoying the challenge.

You took a moment to admire him. Honestly, he was painfully handsome—messy hair, vibrant blue eyes, brimming with untamed energy. His dark brows furrowed as he read, absentmindedly twirling a yellow highlighter between his fingers. You caught yourself staring at the way he bit his lip, wishing you could do it yourself.

Curious, you approached him quietly, watching as he flipped through the papers. That’s when you noticed the section highlighted in yellow: Romeo kisses Juliet.

Your stomach twisted. Kiss. A kiss between Romeo and Juliet. A kiss between James and another girl.

The thought sounded ridiculous, but the discomfort was undeniable. A pang of jealousy surged from your chest to your throat, and before you realized it, you were standing with crossed arms, staring at James with an expression hard to decipher.

He finally noticed you, breaking into a smile when he saw how close you were. “Everything okay?” he asked, oblivious to what you’d just seen.

You simply nodded, forcing a smile. The silence following your discovery seemed to weigh heavily in the air, even as you tried to act like nothing had happened. It didn’t take long for James to realize something was off. He set the script aside and studied you, tilting his head like a curious puppy.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as you fidgeted.

You bit your lip, hesitating. “Why didn’t you tell me about… that?”

“That what?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to sound casual, though your hand gesturing toward the script trembled slightly. “The kiss, James. Why didn’t you mention there’d be a kiss in the play?”

He blinked, his expression now completely skeptical. “Seriously? It’s Romeo and Juliet. It’d be weird not to have a kiss. Did you think I’d, what, shake Juliet’s hand?”

Your face burned instantly, and you crossed your arms in an attempt to hide your discomfort. “You could’ve given me a heads-up,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

James chuckled softly, the kind of sound that made your heart stutter even when you were upset. He stepped closer before you could pull away, wrapping his arms around your waist with an ease that felt intimate and natural.

“Hey,” he said gently, his fingers tipping your chin up to meet his gaze. “You know there’s no one I’d want to kiss but you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he silenced you, pressing his lips softly against yours as if savoring something precious. He kissed you so tenderly it made you feel weightless, like a cloud. “Your lips,” he murmured against your skin, slightly breathless, “are like honey. I could kiss them forever.”

The blush spreading across your cheeks was unavoidable, and for a moment, you let yourself relax against him. James had a unique way of making the world feel less complicated. But even as he planted a few more soft kisses along your neck, the unease returned. The thought of another girl—even in acting—sharing a moment like this with him unsettled you deeply.

(…)

The Great Hall was bustling, but the table where you usually sat with the Marauders felt strangely empty without James. He had left earlier for rehearsal, which, of course, only filled your mind with unwelcome thoughts. The kiss. Was that what he was rehearsing? The idea was unbearable. You wondered how many times he and the “Juliet” would have to go over that scene, how many times she would feel his lips on hers, even if it was just acting.

“Are you listening to me?” Sirius’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you realized he was staring at you with an expression that was equal parts curious and amused.

“Hm?” you mumbled, trying to push away the images that insisted on forming in your mind.

“I said you look awful,” he repeated, grinning unapologetically.

“Thanks, Sirius. That’s exactly what I needed to hear,” you replied, rolling your eyes as Remus unsuccessfully tried to stifle a smile.

“I’m serious, what’s wrong?” Peter asked, biting into a piece of buttered bread.

You hesitated for a moment but finally admitted, “It’s James… He has to rehearse that scene. You know the one.”

Sirius’s eyes widened theatrically. “Oh no! The kiss! The unforgivable crime!”

“It’s not funny,” you grumbled, staring at your plate as if the food could offer some comfort.

“A kiss is just a kiss,” you said, more defensively than you’d intended.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, clearly sensing an opportunity to tease. “Oh, so that’s it. You’re jealous of poor Juliet?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could deny it, he continued, “If you want to keep James’s lips all to yourself so badly, why not get rid of Juliet?”

Remus snapped his book shut instantly, looking horrified. “For the love of Merlin, Sirius. Don’t encourage this.”

Sirius laughed, utterly unfazed by Remus’s disapproval. “I’m serious. Think about it: a Romeo without a Juliet? Tragic. Poetic. Brilliant, really.”

Peter, chewing absentmindedly, finally chimed in, “That would be… hilarious, actually.”

Remus let out a long-suffering sigh, looking directly at you. “Please tell me you’re not considering this.”

But, of course, you were. The idea, absurd as it seemed, began to take shape in your mind. Sirius noticed the hesitation on your face and smirked mischievously.

“Ah, I knew you had a scheming side,” he said, pointing at you with a slice of pizza. “Come on, you’ve got my full support.”

“This is insane,” Remus interjected, clearly frustrated. “You’re going to ruin the whole play. Why can’t you just… I don’t know, trust James?”

“I do trust him,” you replied quickly, but there was something in your voice that made Remus raise an eyebrow.

“Alright,” Sirius said, completely ignoring Remus’s scolding look. “Let’s make a plan. How exactly are we getting rid of Juliet?”

You hesitated, but Peter was the one who suggested, “What if… we swapped her out? Like, no one would notice if it happened at the last second, right?”

Sirius snapped his fingers. “Exactly! Right before the kiss, she disappears, and you take her place. Brilliant.”

“This won’t work,” Remus insisted, exasperated. “You’re ignoring all the possible complications. It’s a live performance, for Merlin’s sake.”

“And that’s exactly why it will work,” Sirius countered.

You were still processing how far this idea might go, but there was something irresistibly tempting about the possibility of keeping James from kissing someone else.

“Okay,” you said finally, and even Sirius looked surprised for a moment.

Remus ran a hand down his face, clearly resigned. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”

“Don’t worry, Moony,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder. “It’ll be epic.”

As lunch ended, your mind was made up. The plan was risky, but you weren’t going to back out. Besides, with Sirius on your side, at the very least, it would be entertaining.

The following days required a great deal of effort to keep James from suspecting anything. You managed to get a copy of the script, and the boys helped you memorize the lines. It was embarrassing, and you considered abandoning the plan more than once, but Sirius quickly got you back on track. The hardest part was getting the costume, but the girl in charge of it was distracted enough for you to “borrow” the dress and accessories.

Before you knew it, the day of the performance had arrived.

Tension hung in the air as you put the final details of the plan into action. Sirius, Peter, and Remus were in their positions, each with their own task. The chaos was about to unfold, and you weren’t sure if you were more anxious or terrified about what would happen.

James had passed through the backstage area moments earlier, completely unaware of the storm about to break. He wore the Romeo costume, his hair neatly combed back, and, most shocking of all, he wasn’t wearing his glasses. You nearly lost your breath. The costume was flawless; he could have easily been part of a Hollywood cast. His unruly curls had been tamed, and silvery powder highlighted his cheekbones, making them sharp enough to cut glass. It was James, but in a way you’d never seen him before, and your mind swirled with admiration and nervousness.

He smiled in that way that made your heart race and approached to wish you good luck before heading to the stage. “I can’t believe they’re letting me do this without glasses,” he said casually, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Hope I don’t trip.”

You laughed, though your throat was dry. “You’ll be amazing.”

He gave you a curious look, as if sensing something unusual, but said nothing. “See you later, yeah?”

“Of course,” you replied, trying to sound casual. He disappeared down the hallway, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. Until your friends appeared silently.

“Let’s go,” Sirius said, breaking through your daze. “It’s now or never.”

You gathered in a hidden corner where you quickly changed into Juliet’s costume. The outfit felt like an elaborate trap—full of layers, lace, and a suffocating corset—but there was no time to complain. Sirius handed you the final accessory as Peter and Remus ensured the real Juliet remained “secured” in the wardrobe where she was temporarily “stored.” The girl barely had time to react before Peter clumsily informed her of a last-minute change and suggested she touch up her makeup. Sirius promptly locked the door, shouting an apology as he ran to join you and the others.

“Ready?” Remus asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

You took a deep breath and nodded, even though your mind was a mess. “Thanks, guys, you’re the best.” You hugged them all at once.

“I know, darling,” Sirius quipped, hugging you back with his leather jacket creaking slightly.

“You have to go, now,” Remus reminded you. You nodded, nerves tying knots in your stomach.

“You’ve got this,” Peter said gently, squeezing your hand.

Forcing your legs to move, you walked with your head down to keep anyone from noticing Juliet’s mysterious transformation. Your heart pounded painfully as you stepped onto the stage.

The curtain rose.

The stage lights were brighter than you’d imagined, momentarily blinding you. Your vision adjusted slowly, and then you saw him. James stood at the center of the stage, completely focused on the scene. The surprise on his face when his eyes met yours was something you would never forget.

He froze for a moment, confused, but, ever the professional, continued the play, his expression shifting between shock and fascination.

You stumbled over the first lines but quickly remembered the nights rehearsing with Sirius, who, surprisingly, had a hidden talent for theater. The audience didn’t seem to notice anything—or, if they did, they were too engrossed to care.

And then came the scene you dreaded most.

James approached slowly, his footsteps echoing on the stage as you struggled to maintain your composure. His voice was steady and passionate, clear and brimming with emotion.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

He extended his hand, as if to touch yours, but paused, the gesture suspended in the air. You stepped forward, your lines hesitant but laden with an emotion you couldn’t hide.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

James’s breath hitched for a moment. He seemed almost to forget the audience, his eyes fixed on yours in a way that made the world fade away.

“Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

The tension was palpable, the moment stretching as if time itself had slowed. When James leaned in, his hand lightly touching your face, your knees felt like they might give out.

And then, he kissed you. Gently moving his lips against yours, coaxing them to part so he could slide into your mouth, making you sigh passionately.

It was brief, but it was everything you had imagined—and more. The sensation of his lips on yours was both surreal and painfully real, every detail etched into your memory. The audience applauded, but the sound seemed distant, muffled by the beating of your heart.

When the scene ended, you separated, but James’ gaze remained locked on yours, as if he had forgotten there was an audience around him.

Backstage, after the curtains finally closed, James didn’t waste a second.

“So, care to explain what that was?” he asked, his voice tinged with surprise but also something gentler.

“It was… an improvisation,” you said, trying to sound casual, though your tone was clearly defensive. The Marauders were nowhere to be seen, and now that the adrenaline was fading, your knees felt weaker by the second.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Improvisation, huh? Don’t tell me Sirius had something to do with this.”

You shrugged, trying not to blush, but he laughed, stepping closer.

“I have to admit,” he said, leaning in so only you could hear, “you were an incredible Juliet. Better than I imagined.”

Your heart felt like it might explode, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “And you? Did you manage to get through it without tripping over yourself?”

He laughed, shaking his head, and took your hand in his, lifting it to press a tender kiss to your knuckles.

“If I do trip,” he said softly, “you’ll catch me, won’t you?”

You nodded, unable to say a word, fully aware that you’d be willing to do anything for him.

In the end, you were more like Juliet than you’d ever thought.

[thisnameisnotspokenfor]

hmmm

I'm only dropping this because I want feedback on how you guys think Asha and Cepheus are both acting.

Pls and thank you.

“Here,” he gestured for her to follow him as he turned down a corner where a pair of doors stood. With a mere flick of his hand, the doors opened themselves as he stepped forward, and turned to her. “Asha…”

“Yes Cepheus?”

“Look….I know that you have a lot on your plate when it comes to astronomy right now…and this might honestly be the last place you’d want to see now…but there’s something here that I think you’d like…if you want to see it.”

“Alright,” she slowly nodded. “Show me…”

He let out a silent sigh of relief before slowly offering her a clawed hand.

Letting him lead her into a dark room hadn’t exactly sounded like a safe plan, but like he said, she did need a distraction, and what better way could she get one than by doing something she’d know she’d never consider doing?

Silently she slipped her hands into his. Feeling the gentle squeeze of his clawed fingers around hers as he pulled her into the darkness that awaited them.

Had it not been for the glow of his eyes or the cape that adorned her shoulders she nearly would’ve considered the darkness to be suffocating. But with a simple wave of his hand, several small candles posted near the entrance ignited, faintly offering her some relief from the overwhelming blackness that had nearly swallowed them both whole.

Unlike the hallways, the ceiling for this room had been spherical, as softly glowing  veins and trees grew along it’s glass like walls. Light from three circular moons illuminated the room’s center, as the sound of the gentle stream filled her ears.

Her eyes traced along the small glowing constellations that had been carved into the dark aegean colored stone floor before settling on the large object that stood in the center of the room.

 “What…what is that?” she whispered, taking in the sight of what appeared to be…a telescope? 

Instinctually she reached for her own telescope within her satchel, silently cursing herself as her hands had come up empty. She must’ve left it at home. Well, telescope or not, she was certain that the instrument before her had easily dwarfed hers and any other she’d seen floating around Rosas. 

“Yep!” the star nodded and confirmed her suspcions as he appeared next to her. An evident note of pride was present in his features. “The royal astronomer’s telescope.”

“So you’re really telling me that this is…a telescope?! Really?!” 

“Of course I am!” He nodded, “The observatory would be quite useless without it….”

“The observatory? So this was the place that the royal astronomers used?”

“Yep…well at least it was until the other castle was built” he nodded as he stepped around her. “But it’s pretty neat, right?” He paused, staring at several of the stone human like statues that stood on the edges of the room, all depicting what she assumed were…astronomers. “Generations upon generations of various astronomers used to work here…each leaving their own distinct mark in their own way.”

“Do you know who was the last royal astronomer? Or…which star they worked for?”

 He tensed as his smile waivered. “Sothis…He was the last member of the royal family to have an astronomer before the bridge was…broken.”

“Do you know Sothis?”

The star frowned, “From what I understand…he met his astronomer through Vitrius…”

Oh…Oh. 

She gulped. Unable to decide if what she was now feeling was horror or a strange sense of pride in her father. He really had taken the job, hadn’t he? Obviously he’d survived his encounter with Polaris… But what choice did he have? As an unintended pawn in the stars’ scheme, he was only trying to protect his family wasn’t he? She took a deep breath, trying to re-focus on her surroundings once more before she asked,  “Did…did his astronomer ever work here?”

“Maybe?” Cepheus frowned as he shrugged. “I wouldn’t know….any mark he’d leave upon this observatory would be far after our story’s happened anyway. So you’re probably not going to find it here.”

“How exactly do you know this place so well?” she whispered as she hesitantly approached the instrument.

“Know it so well?” his laughter was a sharp contrast to the fear she’d felt as she examined the telescope. “Asha this is a vision- everything you see here is what I make it to be.”

 Carefully she reached forward, as her finger grazed the side of the telescope. The feel of cool metal against her fingers left her in awe as she murmured, “And yet it all feels so real…”

Real. It felt real. She wondered before she’d touched it again. Encircling it as her mind took in every single detail and perfection of the instrument’s build. 

Now she could only imagine the the stars she’d be able to see with something like this! All the maps she’d be able to make! They’d be far superior to the ones she’d made with her father… Her chest burned as she paused. 

What was she doing? Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to see this. He’d probably have been horrified if he’d seen the treason she’d committed, both against their people…and his best friend.

How could she have forgotten him?

She shook her head. Probably in the same way he’d deemed her not deserving enough to know, she thought. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about him right now.

After all, she’d come in here to admire the engineering of the place, not the astronomical contents. Yes. That was all, she nodded to herself before looking over the telescope once more, this time taking note of the intricate stone carvings in it’s side. She couldn’t help but trace her finger along it’s patterns, as it trailed from the lens all the way to what she assumed was the power source. 

Had the telescope also needed the spark to work?’ she wondered, and as if sensing her thoughts the star silently reached for the telescope with a glowing hand. His fingertips grazing against it’s surface as the carvings began to glow with a familiar cerulean blue as the sounds of gears turning and shifting filled the air as she stepped back in awe.

“This…this is amazing!” she laughed,  and looked to the star who was also laughing. “What can you see from it?”

“Moons, planets, galaxies…but, if you angle it a certain way,” “You can see earth from here….”

“You’re lying!” she gasped as he shook his head.

“Not this time. Hold on a second-,” his brows furrowed in concentration as he continued to fiddle with the knobs, in a way that seemed…oddly familiar.

Wait a second…why exactly did a star know how to use a telescope? Better yet what had he meant by not this time?!

Had he lied to her before?! She hesitated. Maybe he was just teasing and she, ofcourse was overthinking this…but then again…how coincidential was the star showing her this when she’d been asking him a question about the past? He was the one controlling this vision…so who was to say that he hadn’t done this intentionally?

They both froze as the sounds of something knocking echoed through the air.

“Ah,” Cepheus gasped as he looked away from the telescope and nearly bolted out of the room. “I almost forgot about the rest of the story!”

“The rest of the story? Asha frowned before he took her hand and gently leading her out of the room.

It felt nice to hold hands again. Although she had to admit that it hadn’t felt as…intimate as it had in the bakery…but could she blame him? After all she’d confronted him with earlier, she now suspected that he was only doing this in an attempt to make her happy… And embarrassment aside, she did appreciate it…. 

So why couldn’t she shake the feeling that he was…hiding something from her?

Maybe she was over thinking this. She prayed she was overthinking this. But prayer or not she couldn’t stop herself from frowning as she mulled it over. Wasn’t this exactly what the prince was doing to her? Seeking her help while refusing to be fully transparent? Surely the star wouldn’t be hiding crucial information from her while attempting to give her some sort of closure, right?

She couldn’t find the strength within herself to answer.

‘See?’ she could hear the king’s voice whisper as the star realized she’d stop. He’d turned back for her of course, pointlessly chatting away as he led her down another hallway. ‘He’s no different than your father,’ the king’s voice whispered again. His tone taunting and teasing her as the star smiled. 

No, She clenched her fists. He was different he had to be. He even said so himself. He thought she deserved to know the truth! It was why they were here in the first place!

‘And you’d really take his word for it? Have you learned nothing from your past experiences, Asha?’ the prince laughed.

Oh, she had, she assured herself as she stepped away from Cepheus, watching as his expression changed to curiosity, Which was why she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily, not when she still had questions.

[saintsenara]

Do you think there is parallel between Peter and ron.

Fandom does Peter wrong. That is a fact. He is either absent or is present just for comic relief or is pure evil. But all those characterisation are simply cartoonish. As if written by a person who is living in la la land...

Peter, just like Lupin, we only know major things about him. But like not many people see lupin as a gray shade character only a kind fluffy guy, Peter is polarised to the bad one....

Ron similarly is often given the last place if how much of a good friend each person in golden trio was to be questioned. And that is a tragedy in itself because atleast for Ron we have so much material...

Infact for me, Ron will always be a person who has bigger heart than jkr's favorite mary sue-Lily Evans. She did what any good mother should do. But fandom never stops going on and on about it Or even Harry's sacrifice at the end is so much singed about...but then we have Ron, an 11 year kid who for the sake of defeating voldy, told his new Friends to leave him. He sacrificed himself at 11. Everyone was sure that he is risking his life...but no one i see ever gushes about that act of bravery. It is always about one Potter Or the other.

Peter too. I mean he won't have been friends with the other three for 10 years if they just tolerated him and vice versa. But making him evil kr stupid kr dumb Or hideous to look at in his childhood or teen years is like taking all his personality away and giving us just a shell of a person...

He did become animagi at 15 and that is quite a commendable magic. He is cunning to pull up his stunt as a spy....

Like war as sirius describes in gof is so dark and scary. And people forgot that big things make a person change.

Ron on the other hand had done quite a lot in his life time but often he is found to be judged for leaving his friends.

I believe that the only difference between them is that ron recognised his faults and made correction. Meanwhile pettigrew simply kept on walking on the wrong path he chose....

What do you think on this..?

thank you very much for the ask, pal!

i don't think this entirely works. ron gets cast by the fandom as a gluttonous moron who's also a bad friend primarily on account of the films - and as a bad person by people who want to ship hermione with other people but don't have the nerve to do this in a complex or interesting way - but the text never suggests that either harry or hermione think of him as being in last place in the trio.

indeed, when harry does think of himself as better than ron - when ron gets made a prefect over him in order of the phoenix - he feels horrible for his brief flash of jealousy and soon gets over it. on other occasions when he notes something about himself which could be seen as superior to ron - when he notes that ron got no outstandings at owl, for example - harry doesn't actually force a comparison which is designed to position ron below him. they end up doing the same newts, which is what harry - who sees ron as his partner in crime - cares about.

ron is also demonstrably harry's best friend, and harry tends to enable him and automatically side with him in conflict - it's an example of great self-growth that he doesn't cut hermione off in half-blood prince when ron does, since he's perfectly happy to do so in prisoner of azkaban. but he's also demonstrably hermione's best friend too. harry's relationship with her is, as he says, sibling-like, which doesn't just mean that it's not romantic, but that it contains a "you can't choose your family" vibe - he loves her fiercely, but he also finds her exasperating in a way ron doesn't, doesn't make any real effort to learn about her interests or include her in his, and is often quite harsh to her. ron - in contrast - does see his relationship with her as one of active choice.

this is why i never really like the idea that the trio and the marauders are meant to be parallels. on the surface, ron and harry should be the equivalent of james and sirius and hermione should be remus...

but they're not, because the clear dynamic of the marauders in canon is that they were a group centred around james. all three of sirius, remus, and peter clearly understood james as their best friend, and their relationships among themselves primarily depend on their understanding of their and the others' relationship to james. there is - i think - a credible case to be made that, if james was removed from the picture entirely, but not in a way that caused the profound trauma of the canon timeline [if he just moved away with lily, for example], the remaining three would drift apart.

james - of course - only understood sirius as his equal, his brother. peter is obviously someone he considered inferior to the two of them - albeit in a fond way, rather than a cruel one. he clearly thinks of him the way a teenager might think of their pre-teen sibling - someone you love and are happy to include in your social life if they do what you want, someone you also don't want to embarrass you in front of your cool teenage friends by letting them do what they want instead of following your instructions. remus is clearly someone he didn't think of as quite so socially inferior to him, but he also still seems to have understood him as peripheral to his and sirius' rampant codependence.

the trio doesn't have anything like this dynamic. even though harry is narratively unequal to ron and hermione - he is their leader, they are his disciples - the relationships across the three of them [harry's active choice to be friends with ron, harry's feeling that hermione is his sister; ron's active choice to be friends with hermione, his pseudo-familial relationship with harry] are much more equal than those among the marauders.

what i have been convinced by, however, is @whinlatter's belief that the best parallel for peter in the series is ginny:

[evervigilantnightshade]

The Line - Part 7

Reader and John have always straddled the line between playful flirting and taking things further. However when they are forced into a safe house and a secret comes out will they be able to save what they were heading for or is all lost.

Reader x John Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Laswell, Original characters.

MDNI

Warnings: Angst, violence towards reader, reader attacked by men, a pup gets hurt (but don't worry he's ok) Blood, fluff, flirting, a bit of light smut. Death and killing on missions, Father of reader's death mentioned. Simon's past mentioned

Authors Note - It's here, the part you've all been waiting for. The truth

MASTERLIST

They sat around the table, Simon sat on Y/N’s right and Price on her left. She was drained and didn't have the energy to do this. She looked over at Simon who looked nervous. 

“Do you want me to tell them?”

“No I can do it.” He took a deep breath. “Just tryin to figure out where to start.” 

After taking a moment he looked at Soap, Gaz and Price. When he looked over at Y/N she was biting her thumbnail with a look of deep concern on her face. That’s when he realised that he had been so caught up on how telling the team would affect him and his peace he momentarily forgot that by exposing all of this, she was being put in a place of vulnerability too. 

“I need to tell you a bit of background first and it won’t be short.This farm, our home. It’s Y/N’s family home. She grew up here. Her dad was a military man and growing up all she ever wanted to do was follow in his footsteps. So when she enlisted she worked damn hard to do just that. She ended up with top marks in both her physical and written exams. She excelled and joined an elite Canadian task force. After being with them for a bit she was chosen for the Specialized Snipper Program in the UK, and that’s where we met.” 

He took a moment to look at her to make sure she was ok, and then continued. 

“I was a weird, intense angry loner that was hyper focused on training and being top of the program. She was the only female and had the same goal and intensity. No one spoke to either of us, so we started working together. We challenged each other and would argue over who was better. I wasn’t there to make friends but I started not minding being around her.”

He saw Y/N smile at that and then continued. 

“At Christmas we all got leave and when Y/N found out I had nowhere to go she decided I was coming home with her. She didn’t even ask me, she just walked into my room, handed me a plane ticket and told me to be ready in an hour. Deciding whatever she had planned had to be better than staying on base, I obeyed.” 

He looked up at the guys now. 

“I don’t exactly talk about it but I had a fucked up childhood. Real traumatic shit. So when we got here and the first thing Momma Lynn did was hug me, I uh.. I was shocked. In my experience parents don’t hug. But instead of backing off when she felt my tension she just gave me a quick squeeze and then pulled back, looked in my eyes and gave me a kind smile.”

Y/N reached over and squeezed his hand.  

"Y/N has four sisters so the house was busy and loud.” He chucked at that. “I remember walking into the living room and all the girls were playing a board game at the dining room table and they were bickering and yelling at each other one moment and then next laughing loudly. Her dad was sitting on the couch reading a book. I looked at him and asked him if all the noise bothered him. He looked at me and then the girls and smiled. He said that no it didn’t bother him, in fact it was his favourite sound in the world.”

Y/N reached up and wiped a tear that was rolling down her face. 

“Again I’d never experienced anything like this before. Even on Christmas morning I sat back and watched as they all opened presents for each other, just enjoying the moment. Then Momma Lynn handed me some gifts with a smile. I’d never gotten a Christmas gift before, I just stared at them, and I’ll admit I almost didn’t want to open them, instead I wanted to tuck them away forever, charish them. 

Y/N saw me and sat beside me, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it before encouraging me to open them. I expected something generic like a box of chocolates and some socks but it wouldn’t have mattered what it was, I would’ve loved it regardless. Instead I opened the first gift and it was an artbook and some really nice drawing pencils. Momma Lynn was watching and she explained that Y/N had told them that I like to doodle all the time and that I was really good. 

The next gift I opened was a nice wooden box with my last name etched on the top and inside was a high end gun maintenance kit. When I looked up her dad just looked at me and explained he’d gotten one from his father when he joined up and he’d done the same for Y/N. I actually got a bit emotional and had to pretend like I had to use the washroom so I could gather myself.

It was the best Christmas I had ever had in my life. When we were leaving Momma Lynn took me aside and made me promise to come home with Y/N the next holiday we had leave and of course I agreed. After that, I started wearing the mask, because I had something I cared about.” 

Simon looked up and saw everyone looking at him intently, listening to his every word. 

“For the next year, anytime we got leave I came home with Y/N and by the following Christmas, Momma Lynn and Y/N’s dad sat me down. They told me that they wanted me to be a member of their family. They told me that they thought of me as one of their kids since the first Christmas and they wanted me to feel the same. I actually cried openly for the first time in years. I had a family. They’d even set up a bedroom for me, said I could come and go as I pleased but hoped it was more coming than going. The girls all felt the same and so that was the day I gained a mom, a dad and five sisters. It wasn’t legally done but that didn’t matter to any of us. 

Then something unexpected happened. I fell in love. We both fought it for a long time. I didn’t want to jeopardise what I had and even though it killed me, I refused to risk it. It wasn’t until Mom and dad sat me down one day. They told me that nothing I could ever do would ever change the fact that I was their son. She gave me her grandma’s ring and both gave their blessing. So five years ago, I married Y/N’s sister Ava. Y/N was my ‘best woman’, we had the wedding in the yard and it was the happiest moment of my life. That was until this past April when Ava gave birth to our daughter Clara.” 

He glanced  around the table and saw tears in not only Y/N’s eyes but Soaps as well though he quickly wiped them away.

“Something you should know is Y/N had been asked to join the 141 before I was. Kate had approached her because she’d been doing work for her and knew how good of an agent she was. Then Price approached me. We discussed it and she offered to back out, let me have the team. I wanted to work with her again and knew she deserved a spot on this team though. So I told her if we kept our relationship with each other a secret, if we pretended we didn’t know each other to protect the family then we could be on the same team. She hated the idea of keeping secrets but agreed. 

There are several reasons why I didn’t tell you, and I didn’t let Y/N. The first being that this family, my family, is more important to me than anything in the world and I would die before ever letting anything happen to them. We make a lot of enemies out there and I keep them protected by keeping my mouth shut. The second reason is that when I have this mask on, I’m Ghost. I do what needs to be done and get as dirty as I need too. But when I’m here, the mask comes off and I’m Simon. Sharing that’s hard for me. It’s a trust that I have to build and makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. You’ve only ever seen me as Ghost and I wasn’t ready to share this side of me with you at the time.” 

“Are you ready now?” Soap asked 

“I am. I’d been thinking about it before I found out that we were coming here. Y/N had told me she wanted to tell John the night we blew up the warehouse, before things went to shit. I’d come to the conclusion that it was time.” 

John looked over at Y/N sadly. God he fucked this up. 

“So you and Y/N aren’t married with children.” Gaz confirmed

“No Gaz, we're not married with children. We do love each other though, just in a sibling way instead of romantic way.” Y/N shrugged

“Never said I loved you.” Simon teased beside her 

“You do all the time you softy.” 

“Ok but I still don’t get all the secrecy behind Y/N and her background.” Soap said confused. 

“Well that is another thing I suppose.” Simon looked at Y/N and she nodded. 

He got up and walked over to a painting on the wall, pulled it forward revealing a safe. Typing in the number he opened the safe door and pulled out a file, walked over and placed it on the table. 

Y/N ran her finger over the top of the file and frowned. 

“I know at this point it doesn’t matter much anymore but this is my full file, no holds bar. The reason everything is redacted is because of our dad. Like Simon said, he was a military man. The issue is that he is a very famous man in the military community. His call sign was Phantom 1.” 

“Holy shit, your da is Phantom 1!” Soap exclaimed. 

“I don’t understand, who is Phantom 1?” Gaz asked 

“He was an insanely efficient agent ‘n’ a fuckin amazin sniper. He wis sae weel known in the community that when he died last year, they had tae have two funerals. One fur his folk and one for a' th’ military personnel that wanted tae attend. They even streamed it tae bases a’ over the world. His identity was sae weel hidden that his folk had tae wear veils ‘n’ masks to his funeral! He’s a legend.” 

Soap looked up at Y/N then realised what he just said.

“Oh shit love, I’m sorra.” 

“It’s fine.”

But she felt a lump form in her throat. She looked over at Simon and he squeezed her hand. 

“I’ll take it from here. As Soap said, our da was good at what he did, but with that brought enemies. Hence our super secret, super protected ‘farm’. There are cameras everywhere, the walls behind the hedges have motion and weight sensors, there’s a lock down procedure for the house. It’s how Y/N grew up. So when she joined up they knew that if anyone found out that Y/N was his daughter there was a chance that she would be used as leverage to coax him out of retirement or to just get plain old revenge. So they scrapped any connection to her dad and that included Canada. Hence the redacted file.” 

Y/N looked up at the team and sighed.

“I’m going to ask that even though I’m probably not going to be on the team after this, to protect this information even after I leave? Even though he’s gone we still don’t want this information leaked.” 

“Can we talk about that please Y/N?” John asked 

“Not right now. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted. I also don’t think any of us are in the right mindset at this moment to discuss. So let’s table it for now. I’m 10 feet away from my momma and I just want to get up there.” 

They all nodded and she gave them a soft smile. 

“Si rules?”  

“Yeah ok. I guess now that we’ve explained the situation I’ll get into rules and all that fun stuff. Like any other house, be polite, try and limit swearing especially around the kids.”

“Though they are used to it. Uncle Simon has a potty mouth and has to put a loonie in the jar every time he swears” Y/N added and the group laughed

“They’ll hold you to that too. The money goes to them so they’ll call you out every chance they get. Little buggers.”  

“What ta hell is a loonie?” Soap asked and Simon chucked

“A dollar. It’s a coin. I have a bucket of them in my apartment, remind me to give you some. Anyways it’s a free roam house, the kitchen is open, nothing’s really off limits. The biggest rules are no weapons on person. Don’t worry there are stashes all over the house, we just don’t want the kids seeing a gun peeking out from behind your shirt or god forbid one of them getting their hands on one.”

“How many kids are there here?” Gaz frowned

“Well our sister Charlie has two, a boy named Ky who just turned eighteen and a girl named Meadow who just turned fourteen. Then our sister Brooke has twin girls that are five, Freya and Idun, we call her Edie. Those are the ones you have to watch out for. Then me and Ava have Clara that’s eight months. Y/N and Ems are child free.” 

“And they all live here?” 

“No, but they’ve been told to come here for protection. Ava and I live here. Dad converted two rooms in the basement into a small apartment for us. Y/N lives here too, and has a room in the basement as well. Then Momma Lynn obviously and recently our Grandma moved in so mom could take care of her.”

“Which ones are single?” Soap asked with a smirk 

“Johnny I swear to god if you even look at one of my sisters I’ll rip your dick off.” Simon growled. 

Beside him though Y/N looked at Soap and mouthed Emma and Charlie. Then smiled and winked at him. 

“Alright, the last rule’s the most important. We don’t talk about work. Ever. So no chatting about past missions, injuries, guns, no call signs, none of that. If we need to talk about anything we come down here.”

Everyone nodded in agreement

“So that’s it. We’ll go in the room next door, it has lockers for all of us so anything that doesn’t fit in that standard is put in the locker. Laswell also sent over some stuff for us to make us comfortable and it’s been placed in your locker. Any questions before we call it?” 

Everyone shook their heads and as Simon stood up, Soap and Gaz followed suit and they headed out of the room with the exception of John and Y/N. She picked her file up off the table and held it out to him. 

“You can read it if you want. I’m not hiding anything anymore. All my merit is listed out for you.” 

He looked at the file and then took it from her hand. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of it.” 

“I know. Me too. But what’s done is done and even though you’re sorry it doesn’t erase the things you said, or what you’ve done. We’ve got to move forward, it’s just not the way I thought we were going too or how it would look.” 

“Is there anything I can say to fix this? You said you love me and I need to tell you…” 

“John, stop. It’s too late. And anything you say at this point just seems disingenuous. Like you’re only saying what you think I want to hear to fix this. It’s over, we have to accept that.” 

She left the room and John felt his heart break. He placed the file on the table and followed her out of the room. 

[rose24207]

Reader is driving Illegal Night Racer!Lando’s car for the girlfriend drive. Reader has never driven Lando’s car before. (She doesn’t crash the car. Up to you if she wins.) I think it would be fun if Lando and Reader don’t actually know each other, and it’s like a meet cute. But if you’d rather they be dating then go for it!

That‘s my girl

Summary: The girlfriends of illegal street racers compete in a high-stakes race, with you driving Lando’s car to victory and surprising everyone, including Lando, with your skills.

Genre: Streetracer!Lando, fluff

TW: illegal race

A/N: I hope it is just how you imagined it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The atmosphere in the underground racing club was electric that night, buzzing with energy as the men and women gathered for an event that had turned into something far more exciting than anyone had anticipated.

It all started with a throwaway comment from Lando Norris, as cocky and playful as ever, about how it would be fun to see the girlfriends race against each other.

“You all think you can keep up with us, huh?” he’d said, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk. “How about we see who’s got the real skills behind the wheel?”

The men—Lando and his crew—laughed, clearly enjoying the thought of putting their girlfriends to the test.

What started as a joke had quickly turned into a full-on underground event.

The stakes?

A lot of money and, of course, pride.

“You serious?” You’d asked, narrowing your eyes as you looked at Lando. “You want me to race against all the other girls?”

Lando’s grin only grew wider, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why not? It’ll be fun. You’re a great driver. Plus, there’s cash on the line. Think you can handle it?”

You had hesitated, unsure at first.

Sure, you’d driven before—really driven. But racing? On an illegal circuit, no less? The thrill was undeniable, but so was the fear.

But there was no backing down now.

The others were game, and you didn’t want to be the one to wimp out.

“I’ll race,” you’d said, your voice confident, though you could feel a rush of nerves in your chest.

Lando had clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. “That’s my girl.”

Tonight, the underground lot was full of the usual illegal-race suspects—high-stakes gamblers, car enthusiasts, and anyone else who got a thrill from watching cars break the law and make money while doing it.

The men had gathered around their own cars, making bets and placing their chips. But this race was something different.

The women were getting ready, strapping into the cars their boyfriends—Lando included—had handed them. There was no official race gear, no helmets or racing suits. Just the cars, the roads, and the adrenaline that surged through your veins as you prepared for what was to come.

Lando’s car, a black, sleek beast that was almost as much a part of him as his own hands, sat ready at the starting line. He stood next to it, talking to a few of the other guys, but his eyes were always on you, watching with that half-smile that made your stomach flip.

The other girls were getting ready, too, some a little more nervous than others, but all equally determined to show they could handle the power beneath their hoods. There was a buzz in the air, a sense of competition that was palpable. Everyone was here to win, but for you, it wasn’t just about the cash—it was about showing you belonged.

You adjusted yourself in the seat, the leather feeling tight and unfamiliar. No helmet, no comms, just the cold, hard reality of racing.

You weren’t sure whether to be excited or terrified, but you knew one thing for sure—you were going to give it everything you had.

Lando came up to the car, leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling back with a grin. “You’ve got this, babe,” he said, his voice low and confident. “Just keep your focus, and don’t let anything distract you.”

“Don’t worry,” you replied with a smile. “I’m not here to lose.”

He chuckled, ruffling your hair. “That’s the spirit.”

The start line was set.

The other women were already in their cars, engines revving in anticipation. You looked around—you could see the guys in the crowd, all leaning against cars or standing with drinks in hand, watching with eager eyes. They were rooting for their girlfriends, of course, but you could tell there was a competitive edge in the air.

This wasn’t just for fun; it was a way for everyone to show who was really in control.

The countdown began.

“Five… four… three… two… one!”

The signal flashed, and with a roar of engines, the cars tore down the road. The air was thick with the smell of burning rubber and exhaust as you hit the accelerator, the car shooting forward like a bullet. You could hear the other cars close behind you, but you didn’t dare look back.

Focus.

That’s all that mattered right now.

The first corner came up fast, and you gripped the wheel tighter, the power of Lando’s car responding instantly to your movements.

The road was winding, narrow in places, but you knew this—had studied this path countless times when Lando had taken you out for drives just like this, pushing you to your limits and beyond.

The first few turns felt smooth, effortless. You were in the zone now, each move instinctive, the adrenaline pumping through your veins like a drug. The other girls were close behind, but you were pulling away, gaining speed as you hit the straights. The wind whipped through the open windows, but you didn’t feel it—didn’t need to.

All that mattered was the race.

You could hear the engines of the other cars behind you, the sound growing louder as they pushed forward, trying to close the gap. The second lap was more intense, the turns sharper, the road more treacherous.

The girls weren’t holding back, and you couldn’t either.

There was no room for error.

A sharp left turn came up, and you turned the wheel just a fraction too late. The car slid slightly, but you corrected it quickly, your heart pounding in your chest.

That was close.

As you rounded the next corner, you glanced at the rearview mirror. One of the other girls was on your tail, practically riding your bumper, but you weren’t going to let that scare you. This was it—everything you’d trained for in your own way. It was time to show them all you had what it took.

You pushed harder, the car responding like it was an extension of yourself. The final lap loomed ahead, and the finish line was closer than ever. Your heart was racing, but your focus was locked in—no distractions, no second-guessing.

You were almost there.

And then, with one final burst of speed, you crossed the finish line. The roar of the engine quieted, and the world seemed to slow down as you took your foot off the gas and let the car coast to a stop.

You had won.

As you stepped out of the car, the crowd went wild. The guys, who had been cheering for their girlfriends, now erupted into applause, whistling and shouting. Lando was already making his way toward you, his face lit up with pride.

“You did it! You actually did it!” Lando shouted, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around in excitement.

You laughed, still catching your breath from the high of the race. “I can’t believe it,” you said, your heart still pounding in your chest. “That was insane.”

“Insane?” Lando repeated, grinning from ear to ear. “You were amazing. You smoked everyone.”

You grinned, the rush of victory still surging through you. “Well, I’m just glad I didn’t crash your car,” you teased.

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “I knew you could do it. You were born to drive.”

As the other girls came over to congratulate you, you could see the pride in their eyes. They knew they had just raced against one of the best, and although the stakes had been high, there was no denying that you had earned the win fair and square.

Lando pulled out an envelope stuffed with cash from his pocket, handing it to you with a wink. “You earned every penny of this,” he said, his voice full of admiration.

You opened the envelope, your eyes widening at the thick wad of cash inside. You’d won more than just the race; you’d earned respect, bragging rights, and a hefty payout.

“Guess we’re celebrating tonight,” you said with a grin, feeling the exhilaration of the win still coursing through your veins.

Lando’s smirk was unmistakable. “Oh, we are. You deserve it.”

You looked at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I’ll take you up on that.”

As the night continued and the cheers died down, you felt a rush of pride. You’d shown everyone—not just Lando, but yourself—that you could handle anything the road threw at you.

And that wasn’t just a win—it was proof that you had what it took to belong here.

Thank you for reading!