#this is not the last chapter i would not do that to yall i promise

[hauntingofhouses]

We all already know Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils. But you know what? Lemme just say it, here's what I think:

Taigen and Mikio are foils.

Not necessarily to each other as individuals in the way that Mizu and Akemi juxtapose each other, but mostly in the contrast between their relationships with Mizu.

I've covered specific parallels between Taigen and Mikio in other posts I wrote; but as the number of parallels I'm noticing between them keeps piling up, I'm compelled to just compile them all in one post. So! This is, thus, the post in question.

First of all, let's look at their similarities.

1. Their status in society is the same. They are both samurai who lost their honour and have dreams of reclaiming it.

2. They are also both diligent as they strive to achieve this goal, they both care deeply about their work, but here as they begin to contrast, as the work in question and way they go about their goals is different:

For Mikio, his work is in taming and rearing horses; in order to prove himself, he must tame Kai—a willful and strong horse—and present it to his lord. For Taigen, his work is in sword fighting and martial arts; in order to prove himself, he must kill Mizu—a willful and strong swordsman—and present her dead body to his lord.

In the parallel above, not only are Taigen and Mikio contrasting each other, but Mizu and Kai are placed in comparison as well. And of course, Kai is Mizu's horse, and represents her. Which is why, when later, Mikio sells Kai off, it represents the way he is tossing Mizu (and their relationship) aside.

From there, the rest of the details of their character begin to contrast and juxtapose each other more clearly. So let's look at those differences, shall we?

Their backstory:

Mikio was a great samurai who was banished. A somebody to a nobody. Taigen was a fisherman’s son who rose to the top. A nobody to a somebody.

2. The first time we meet them on-screen:

Mikio is an adult. An older man. Mizu's superior in age. He is Mizu's to-be husband. A love interest. Taigen is a child. A young boy. Mizu's peer in age. He is Mizu's bully. An antagonist.

3. Their maturity and growth:

Mikio is mature, but stuck in his ways. Taigen is immature, but capable of changing and learning.

4. Their overall attitude:

Mikio is generally relaxed, easy-going and unfussy. Taigen is uptight, irritable and severe.

5. How they talk to and conduct themselves around Mizu:

Mikio is aloof, soft-spoken, and serious. Taigen is obnoxious, brash, and sarcastic. Mikio is quiet, speaking only when spoken to, even when Mizu turns to smile at him and shows openness to be near him. Taigen is loud, talking while others are silent, even when Mizu turns from him and shows no interest in conversing with him.

Mikio doesn't show much of who he is to Mizu throughout their marriage, despite their growing affection. Taigen openly shares his traumas and life story to Mizu during their brief alliance, despite their mutual antagonism.

6. Their external vs internal selves:

Mikio is calm, gentle, and considerate on the outside. Taigen is hot-headed, rude, and selfish on the outside. Mikio is cowardly and deceitful on the inside. Taigen is brave and loyal to a fault on the inside. Mikio tells Mizu that he wants to know and see all of her. But he scorns and betrays her, the woman he loves. Taigen tells Mizu that he wants to duel and kill him. But he endures torture to not betray him, the man he hates.

9. Their hair, a symbol of their honour:

Mikio's topknot is untied by Mizu during their spar. This humiliation occurs in private, the two of them alone in a rural location where no one can see them. Taigen's topknot is cut off by Mizu during their duel. This humiliation occurs in public, the two of them being watched by many others in the Shindo Dojo.

10. Their power dynamic with Mizu:

Mikio believes he is Mizu's mentor. He teaches her to throw knives, how to ride and care for horses, and about the tactical benefits of using a naginata. Taigen believes he is Mizu's equal. He views Mizu as a samurai like himself who received all the same teachings he did, and who possesses the same values.

11. Their perceptions of Mizu:

Mikio sees Mizu's feminine side first. He sees her as sweet and gentle, but also clumsy and incompetent. Taigen sees Mizu's masculine side first. He sees her as terrifying and deadly, but also strong and skilled.

12. The way they approach sparring with Mizu:

Mikio only spars with Mizu once. As the fight progresses and she is beating him, he tries to put a stop to it. When she teases/provokes him, he starts taking the fight personally and seriously, finding no enjoyment in it. Taigen spars and brawls with Mizu all the time. No matter how many times Mizu beats him, he doesn't back down. When Mizu challenges him with a chopstick, he is eager to compete with her and gladly rises up to the challenge.

Mikio and Mizu's one and only spar is a friendly match; Mizu is smiling and having fun while he grows increasingly frustrated. Taigen and Mizu's last-seen spar is a playful wrestling match; both him and Mizu are having fun and laughing.

Mikio cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, so he scorns her and walks off, avoiding her thereafter. When Taigen cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, he follows her to observe her moves and continues training in hopes to eventually beat her. After being bested by Mizu once, Mikio leaves her and sells the horse he'd previously gifted to her. After many times losing to Mizu and fighting alongside her, Taigen commends her and admits she is better than him.

13. When Mizu pins them down in a friendly spar:

Mikio sees Mizu's whole face objectively. Taigen stares at Mizu's mouth and eyes.

Mikio gets angry when she kisses him, throwing her off of him and snapping at her, calling her a monster. Taigen gets aroused, apologising, so she pulls herself off of him.

14. Mizu's blue meteorite sword is a reflection of her soul. She believes most are undeserving to face it, let alone hold it. And on that note:

Mikio is the first person (chronologically) that Mizu fights against using her sword. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) that Mizu fights against with her sword. Mikio is the first person (chronologically) to ever hold her sword, as she passes it to him, letting him wield it. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) to ever hold her sword, as she passes out, and he picks it up and carries it for her.

15. Then, last but not least, in Fowler's fortress, when she is drugged and in pain, she hears Ringo's voice in the dungeon. She then follows it to an open cell:

Mizu first sees Mikio as a hallucination, the sight of him haunting her and causing her to lose her grip on reality. Her eyes glow a surreal blue to represent this. Her Mama appears then and says Mizu's name accusingly.

Mizu then sees Taigen, but he is real, the sight of him a relief and grounding her back to reality. Her eyes return to their normal blue colour to represent this. Taigen looks at Mizu weakly and says her name softly.

Then, later, when facing Fowler, her revenge awaiting her, she instead chooses to follow her conscience (represented by Ringo's voice in her mind), putting aside her vengeance for a time, in order to save Taigen.

So that's basically all the ones I've noticed so far, but even then, I feel there's already so much that forms a contrast between these two.

What makes it especially incredible about these juxtapositions is that Mikio was Mizu's husband, the man she had fallen in love with, the one person she had ever been intimate with, the man who made her begin to accept herself, to put down her desire for vengeance and instead live a life of peace and happiness.

So for Taigen to have so many parallels with him... Do you see what I'm saying here!

Not to mention that Mizu clearly already has some burgeoning attraction to him, as indicated by how she thinks of him when asked about her desires. And Taigen clearly has shown interest as well (see: him getting a boner after their spar, him holding her hand and telling her, "We're not done yet.").

And on the topic of speculating future possibilities of this relationship, this post by @stromblessed has pointed out yet another parallel between Taigen and Mikio:

Mizu promises Taigen to meet him for their duel in autumn. Mizu fell in love with Mikio and duelled him during autumn.

With all that said, I do believe Mizu and Taigen's relationship is definitely hurtling towards something. But whether they will actually end up together in a sustainable relationship and have a happily ever after? Well, that is a whole other story; we'll just have to wait and see.

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 11 - ( c.s )

part ten

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, starts fluffy (borderline cringe but get over it) and then smurtyyy baby ITS THE FINALE so enjoy

a/n: wow, a chapter coming to a close. you may get an epilogue…you may not…only time will tell. thank you to anyone who has supported me in general and especially on this specific series!! i had such a fun time with this concept and appreciate yall sticking it out with me fr <3

you’re really regretting your promise to chris now. it’s a day later and there’s less than an hour until the game, which is heightening your nerves like nothing else. you smooth your shaky hands over your sweatshirt, continually glancing over at your bed.

his jersey rests there, crisp and clean. it smells like him too; you picked up on the familiar scent when you were holding it in your hands earlier.

he left it in your mailbox, shooting you a vague text before heading up to the arena. though he didn’t tell you what he put in there in his message, you already knew. and you’ve been wrestling with how you want to play this ever since.

you got so comfortable wearing his stuff, especially to games, that it kind of feels weird not to. but you have a feeling that a lot more people know about what happened than you initially expected, which scares the shit out of you.

you suppose you have to get a little uncomfortable, though. it’s been so long since you’ve felt this way, since someone’s excited you, or even hurt you like this.

and it fucking sucked to be so disappointed. but you never ever thought you would bear witness to chris sturniolo saying his first real i love you, especially to you. it was maybe the one thing he could’ve done to convince you, because it was just so unexpected.

you already knew you loved him, so getting that confirmation from him first was huge.

you blow out a breath, still so antsy as you twist around, watching your reflection with a fierce intensity. nothing you’ve tried feels right, and it’s beyond frustrating.

just put it on. what’s the harm?

you’re tearing your hoodie off a moment later, tossing it to the floor as you reach for his jersey. it slips over your head perfectly, wrapping you in subtle hints of his cologne as you adjust it on your shoulders.

you can’t help but smile slightly as you glance in the mirror; if you ignore reality enough, it almost seems like you’re the same person you were a month ago; a blissfully ignorant girl supporting the boy she cared about.

cares about, your brain autocorrects you.

you never really stopped. you wouldn’t have gone over to his house yesterday in the first place if you truly had.

“hey, are you almost—” ramona stops dead in her tracks when she looks up from her feet, seeing you standing in the number 3.

you’re immediately ashamed, for whatever reason, like she caught you doing something wrong. part of it does feel wrong, and you’re about to say so. but then she smiles, like really smiles, and clasps her hands together happily. “finally!”

the reaction shocks you, to say the least, and you know it’s written all over your face. you shake your head a little, trying to find some way to ask her what she possibly means by that.

mona rolls her eyes at you playfully. “what, you thought i wouldn’t support you?”

you shrug, mouth still parted in surprise. you’re kind of smiling though; you’re happy she feels this way, you just weren’t necessarily expecting it.

plus, you didn’t actually tell them how you felt when you gave them the rundown last night after the bars, so neither of them could’ve known what you were experiencing. for the most part you were acting like it was strictly business or something, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

“i don’t know what i thought, to be honest.” you finally say, shifting around on your feet uncomfortably.

“why didn’t you tell me?”

you sigh and mess with your hair a bit. “because it’s not, like, official or anything, and i’m still not even sure i want to wear this to the game. i was just putting it on, i guess.”

she nods, and you’re waiting for her to say more, but she doesn’t. ramona just walks over, pulling you into her arms without another word.

you’re once again stunned, but in a pleasantly unanticipated way. you’re beyond tired of crying, but these tears are different. they’re happy, because you can feel your heart mending, and mona knows that too.

“you took the time, and i think you’re ready to forgive, angel. i can see it every time i look at you, that you’re still thinking of him, and that’s okay. he’s clearly been a fucking wreck, and i honestly believe he loves you because he would never utter those words if he didn’t.” she laughs into your hair slightly, and you can hear the emotion in her voice.

despite everything, you let out a breathy chuckle too. “you’re amazing, you know that? i really lucked the hell out with you.”

she pulls away, still smiling despite her shining eyes. you dab at your own, trying your best not to ruin the makeup you had so carefully applied half an hour earlier.

“i love you forever. cass and i just want to see you happy and i think being with him is what you want. so if it really is, you should wear it.” ramona gives the jersey a little tug.

you know you’re going to now, and you decide you don’t care what anyone else thinks about it. it’s between you and him, and if the people you trust most support you, then nothing else matters.

“i…i will. and thanks, really. you always help clear my head.” you nudge her a little with a grin.

“of course,” she wraps a hand around your arm so she can start pulling you toward the door, “now hurry up, because we’re on the verge of being late and cass is waiting!”

being away from the rink this long makes the lights somehow feel a hundred times brighter. they’re beating down on you as you and your roommates make your way to your seats, the same ones that you’d become accustomed to ever since that first game.

it’s been a while since you’ve felt quite this many eyes on you, and it’s insanely unsettling. you focus on navigating the steps below you, because you know if you don’t you’ll fall and make yourself look even worse.

it’s at least loud, considering they’ve got all the music going for warm ups. you’re glad you can’t hear the crowd of students whispering about how pathetic you are, or how stupid you’re acting.

maybe it’s true, but you’re beyond that now. you’re willing to get hurt again, even though you hope with all of your heart that the day never comes, because you’ll regret it forever if you don’t try.

people make mistakes. but they only get one chance to make it up in your book, and this is chris’s chance.

so you square your shoulders and try to wear the jersey with pride as you guys finally arrive in the front row, even though it’s difficult to act confident.

fake it till you make it, or whatever they say.

your eyes find him skating around almost immediately, like they’re just naturally drawn in his direction. you suppose that it shouldn’t be surprising, at least not after watching so many games.

the way he moves is different; he’s smooth, always one step ahead, like he’s playing an entirely different game. it’s easy to spot, because he’s somehow the most fluid and the most aggressive on the ice.

you watch as chris skates back to the blue line, circling their half of the rink while they all take practice shots. that’s when he looks over at your section, and you can see the relief wash over his face when he spots you.

he nods, and you can see a devilish smile forming on his face as he snaps the puck into the net once again. it makes you uneasy when the rest of the team starts to glance at you as well, only to look toward one another after like some sort of signal.

you try to shake it, pretend like your gut is completely wrong, and for a couple minutes you can. they stretch and do more drills and everything seems normal, or as normal as it can be right now.

until they all slow down, gathering around the bench one by one to create a warped huddle. the opposing team is skating off of the ice now with five minutes left of warmups, and you’ve never been more on edge. mona and cass aren’t paying enough attention, so when you look at them in alarm, they’re purely concerned.

“what? why does your face look like that?” cassidy questions.

before you can even begin to explain the weird feeling that’s settled in your bones, the entire BU team breaks as the lights shut off. you can hear the confused murmuring of the fans over the music, which is fading out slowly now.

each of them line up, getting into position as if they’ve practiced a hundred times, forming a pyramid shape in the middle of the ice. chris stands alone in the front, and there’s a microphone in his hand, and—oh god, fuck.

seconds later the spotlight flares over to shine on him, and even though you know there’s no way he can actually see with it directly in his eyes, it still feels like he’s looking right at you.

you watch him gulp nervously, and you’re just as terrified of whatever is coming next.

“uh—hi everyone. i’m your captain, chris, and i wanted to thank each and everyone one of you for coming out tonight.” he starts off, trying to brush away his fear.

though the crowd is still obviously confused, they’re applauding regardless due to their special recognition. on the other hand remain completely still, trying to avoid panicking so publicly.

“what the fuck is he doing?” mona whisper shouts in your direction, and all you can do is shrug even though you know where he’s going with this.

somehow, you can just feel it in your gut.

“seriously, you guys are beyond amazing. you’re the reason playing here is so incredible,” chris smiles charmingly as the noise dies down, pausing dramatically for a moment before continuing, “but i’m actually standing out here tonight like an idiot because there’s somebody in this crowd that i need to apologize to.”

your stomach falls to your feet, and you can’t do anything besides stare out across the rink at him. he’s looking your way again, brilliant blue gaze still able to pick up on exactly where you are, and you feel a shock course through your veins.

“i did wrong by her, and i’ve been kicking myself every day since. she’s the most radiant and passionate person in every room, and she’s also the only reason i’m even here in this arena today. the truth is that i love her, which is why i think it’s time to turn the tables and embarrass myself a little bit to prove that. plus you guys get a heck of a show in the process.” he jokes, earning some apprehensive chuckles in response.

chris clears his throat, trying not to let his voice crack. despite what you think, he actually can see you through the brightness, which makes his heart leap to his throat. “so to the girl of my dreams, i’m sorry. and i hope this shows you that i meant it when i said i’d never stop fighting.”

every single part of you is screaming in a way you can’t explain; you’re completely entranced, but in the same way that people can’t look away from a car crash.

the audience chatters as the lights go out again, but it doesn’t take long before ain't too proud to beg starts playing to cut them off. you recognize it immediately, and now you can’t help but crack a smile.

this was the song you listened to most when you’d drive around in his car, singing along together with the heat blasting on your way to nowhere in particular. you can’t hear it anymore without thinking about him.

the stadium ignites in a dreamy red glow, and each member of the team begins skating in slow circles, kicking their feet out lightly to the rhythm. chris remains up front, gliding around as if he’s walking on clouds.

he tries not to look at you too much, because this moment is about putting himself on display, but his attention darts to you every couple of seconds. you’re clearly stunned, but he sees the small grin on your lips, and that lights the fire he needs to go all out.

“i know you wanna leave me, but i refuse to let you go,” chris begins, voice surprisingly strong as he glides around, “if i have to beg n’plead for your sympathy, i don’t mind ‘cause you mean that much to me.”

you can hear people starting to sing along, and you amaze yourself by joining in for the chorus as well. cassidy and ramona sway beside you, both shaking you lightly as they try to contain their shrieks of delight.

“ain’t too proud to beg, and you know it, please don’t leave me girl.” he belts out, unable to contain his happiness when he sees your reaction.

his team continues to dance on the rest of the ice, leaving the middle for him as they goof off, each adding their own personal flair to the simple choreography. you laugh when you see connor and ben doing the robot at each other, simply because they look so damn stupid.

“ain’t too proud to plead, baby baby, please don’t leave me girl.” chris holds the mic between both palms, shaking his hands in prayer as he skates backwards suavely.

the beat swells as the jazz blares through the speakers, and they all line up across the center of the ice. there are tears in your eyes as chris joins them, arms all linked over each others shoulders as they begin a rockette kick line.

despite how insanely unsafe it probably is to do on skates, they’re all killing it. the whole stadium is roaring now; laughter, cheers, chanting along, you name it. you’re amazed, eyes flashing along with the glowing atmosphere.

having him serenade you with this song, in front of all of these people, is something you never thought possible.

there’s an exhilarated expression on his face, still completely focused on you as he sings his heart out, and it makes you completely weak. his defined features are as striking as ever, cheeks flushed slightly from the adrenaline of it all.

he’s the same handsome boy you thought you knew, and yet here he is, surprising you again.

you’re bouncing around as the song nears the end, only for chris to come skating forward from the others so he can slide on his knees across the rink, headed your way. it’s so dramatic and so fucking silly that you’ve got a stitch in your side from laughing.

for a moment you just look at each other, separated only by the plexiglass wall, and everything else in your mind quiets. you no longer hear the anxious thoughts, or the crowd, or even your friends screaming beside you.

chris’s chest heaves as he finally relaxes, lowering his outstretched arms so that he can shrug bashfully, as if he’s asking you what you think.

you shrug back, but you’re beaming so hard that your true feelings are on display regardless. you can see his matching teary eyes, and truly for the very first time, neither of you care about anyone else.

he’s fucking whipped, and he’ll tell everyone in the world without a second thought. you’re certain of that now, and so is he.

finally, chris pushes himself up and holds the mic back to his mouth, one arm out as he waves to the sea of people. “thank you everyone! get loud tonight, and as always go terriers!”

they all skate off the ice, and you see his friends embracing him in excitement as they head back to the locker room. chris takes one final look over his shoulder, and you give him a wave of encouragement.

he disappears and your attention finally turns to your friends, their mouths still hanging open from the rather electrifying show.

“i can’t believe…i mean he just…” cassidy tries to form a sentence, but ends up pressing a hand to her lips instead.

“that kid is so fucking in love with you, wow.” ramona giggles to herself.

you’re about to object, but you know she’s right. and after that display, there’s certainly no point in arguing about it, because then you’d just be giving some shitty explanation.

before you can even start babbling, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you freeze again. you know who it is, but your heart is pounding against your ribcage as you check anyways.

chris

we’ll talk after?

it's the first text from him in weeks that you’re going to respond to, the first of many you suppose. that makes you smile as you type out an answer.

y/n

only if you win :)

and he does. he does win. in fact, chris went out there and played probably the best game of his entire career.

a hat trick, which he’s never done in his life, all for you.

the team is electric, and he knows the party will be coming back to his place as they all rage in the locker room after the game. it was incredible, and this moment with them is great, but the only person he wants to see is you.

so he slips into the hallway, already dialing your number as the door finally swings shut to contain some of the noise.

you pick up on the first ring.

“i won.” chris states immediately, and he can hear the grin in his own voice.

“you did.” you respond.

it’s a lame attempt at being coy, and you both know it. he leans his shoulder up against the wall, shaking his head even though you can’t see it.

“three goals was pretty impressive, huh? probably worth talking to me over, at least in my opinion.” chris teases, and your laugh gives him butterflies.

you glance over at your friends, who try to look busy as you all wait for the bus, though it’s very clear that they’re trying to eavesdrop. “i can’t disagree there, captain.”

he snorts before he can help it. “so does that mean you’re coming over?”

it seems like an eternity before you answer, even though it’s maybe five seconds total. “yeah, i’ll see you at home.”

when chris confronts the locker room once more he tries to part ways with everyone graciously, but they can see through him. he can’t get out of there quick enough, and yet everyone is just as excited to watch him leave.

none of them have ever seen him like this. he’s never seen himself like this, and despite being horrified of that in the past, there’s nothing holding him back anymore.

he tries not to get too antsy on the drive home, and you’re buzzing equally as much as you chat with your friends.

chris keeps working himself up even thinking about being close to you, about actually getting to belong to you. he’s missed having you in his hands, in the most innocent and sinful ways possible.

he beats you back by a few minutes, so he hangs around in the front yard like a dog, kicking at the dirt to try and distract himself.

by the time you come walking down the street, laughing along with cassidy and ramona, he feels like his heart is going haywire. your face coming into focus under the street light only makes it worse, because you look so damn perfect.

when you catch sight of him your expression transforms immediately; you’re somehow more visibly timid, but he can also tell that you’re dying to speak.

“‘sup chris?” cassidy nods, arms crossed over her chest as she turns with ramona toward their house.

“pleasure to see you ladies again.” he charms, giving a little two finger salute.

they both giggle and wave him off, whispering amongst themselves as they leave the two of you alone. its just like his first time ever laying eyes on you, because he’s equally as entranced as he was three years ago.

“hey.” he takes a couple steps forward, hands still in his pockets.

you can tell he’s actually a bit reserved, which surprises you. chris has always been good at reading you, at calling you out, and it’s hard to believe that he can’t pick up on the fact that you’re so far beyond gone.

“hi there.” you smile and get a little closer, and he almost falls to his knees.

a few more paces forward and you’d be face to face, so close that his nose would probably brush against yours. so he moves, one foot at a time, just to give you the opportunity to say no.

but you don’t, and you know that you never will, so you ask him the one question on your mind. “do you really want to talk?”

chris blushes for what seems like the millionth time, shaking his head slowly.

“what do you think?”

he’s towering over you a bit now, stopped only a couple inches away to keep some semblance of space. you don’t want it, and he doesn’t either, so you reel him flush against you by the waistband of his sweats.

“i think you should tell me you love me one more time.” you tease, drinking in the intoxicating smell of that goddamn dior.

chris leans in the rest of the way so his mouth is hovering over yours, even though it’s suffocating to do so. “i love you. i’ll say it as many times as ya like, princess.”

your stomach is flipping. you can’t help it anymore.

so you kiss him. you wrap your arm around his torso and you pull him as close as possible and you just fucking kiss him.

he’s already melting into you, hand tangling in your hair instinctively to tug. it’s sloppy, heated, everything you’ve been holding back for weeks. tasting your signature chapstick is enough to get him all bothered, to the point where it’s embarrassing.

it’s the start of something new, all while you’re standing in the same fucking driveway where this really began.

you pull away completely breathless, though you don’t wait to slip your hand into his. chris stumbles slightly over his feet as you pull him along, a little taken aback by the change in pace.

“what, can’t keep up?” you joke as you ascend the porch with him in tow.

he finds his balance quickly, though, hot on your heels now. his palm comes down to slap your ass playfully as you’re headed through the front door and you shriek out a laugh.

“i do just fine, thank you very much.”

he’s quick to reattach himself to you, so quick in fact that you’re barely able to close the door behind you.

it’s honestly hard to even get up to his room because of how much he’s all over you; kissing your neck from behind, running his hands over waist, dragging his fingers up and down every part of your body.

chris has missed you for too long to let any second go to waste. you’re giggling in between tiny little breaths of pleasure, attempting to hold them back some, but he wants to hear more.

you carelessly stagger into his room and he kicks the door shut behind him before breaking away. chris finally takes a moment to pause so that he can turn you around and admire you.

“you know what you do to me in that jersey, seeing you out there wearing my name.” chris growls, sliding his hands underneath the synthetic material to grip your warm skin.

you push your hips to him harder, smirking when you feel his hard-on press against your lower stomach. “mhmm, you gonna do anything about it before everyone gets back?”

his hands travel higher at this, skimming up the sides of your body as it bunches up around your chest. you get the message, so you lift your arms to help him take it off only for him to toss it to the floor a second later.

“fuck ‘em…i wanna take my time with you.” chris brushes your hair over your shoulder gently.

you try not to shiver. the anticipation is killing you as he cups the side of your neck, forcing you to retreat slowly until your legs meet his bed. his chest rises and falls heavily while he looks at you, familiarizing himself with every detail again.

you take the next step and sink down, laying your back against the mattress. your hair is like a halo around you, and chris shakes his head slightly.

his knee comes in between your legs to make room for himself, and you’re turned on just watching him devour you with his eyes.

“y’look like a fuckin’ angel.” he sighs, planting his arms by your shoulders so he can hover above you now.

you tilt your head, daring him to capture your lips again. “you gonna treat me like one?”

“long as you act like one.” he taunts back.

without a second thought you fasten your legs around his waist, pulling him right against your core so you can really feel. those tight little yoga pants don’t hide your warmth, and chris lets out an involuntary groan.

“fine, have it your way.”

he shifts his weight so he can wrap one hand around your throat, and the pressure is so enjoyable that you place your own palm over his to let him know it.

your other one travels to the back of his head, gripping his roots as his mouth connects with your neck harshly.

he’s leaving his mark again, not caring how childish it is to be putting hickies in this spot specifically. chris wants everyone to see them, to know that it’s real this time, and you’re his.

you selfishly don’t care either. neither of you have said the words yet, but you’re together, and it excites you that everyone will be able to look at the proof.

he lingers in every spot, working his way to your collarbone as he rocks against you. you’re a whining mess, his hard bulge rubbing against your center perfectly, and it only gets worse when the fingers around your neck move to squeeze your tits.

the fact that your bra is unlined makes it even more arousing, the lace brushing against your hardened nipple as he pinches one between his pointer and middle.

“missed you so much.” he grumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin while he drags his lips down further, sliding his body through your legs, “you were driving me insane.”

the kisses he presses against your stomach makes you tense slightly from the sheer amount of butterflies. chris gets closer and closer to the top of your pants, lowering his body far enough to kneel at the side of his bed.

he finally abandons his position briefly so he can look up at you through his lashes. you’ve never seen a prettier goddamn sight.

“tell me you need me, baby.” he challenges, and you’re dying to have him touching you again in any way.

“i need you, chris. so bad, please.” you beg, squirming slightly to try to get closer.

but he keeps you where you are, slowly pulling the silky material down your hips, mouth trailing along every part of you as he goes. you gasp at the sensation, only unhooking your ankles for a second to allow him to fully tug them off.

he doesn’t hesitate before he clutches the outside of both of your legs and tugs you toward his face, keeping them planted around his shoulders as his elbows dig into the mattress.

“that’s what i thought.” chris smirks, leaving more tantalizing kisses up the middle of your thighs.

your breath hitches the closer he gets, his stubble scraping your skin slightly as he ventures on. your fingers tangle in his roots when his lips finally trace along the seam of your panties, which are already humiliatingly damp.

one of his hands reaches further over your hips to shove them to the side, and feeling his fingers brush you even slightly makes you shudder just a bit.

“fucking do something.” you’re the one pleading now, though not as publicly.

chris’s laugh fans across your wetness, and goosebumps crawl their way up your skin.

“been waiting for those words.”

finally, he presses his lips against your core and you mutter a soft incoherent curse. his tongue slips out to glide across the delicate skin, for just long enough that your back arches off of the comforter.

he groans and you feel it vibrating right through you. chris has been craving you for so long, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be in this position again.

he’s already completely pussy-drunk, because his plan was to draw it out, really make you tick. but he can’t hold back; he got a taste and now he’s eating like it’s his last time, nose bumping your sensitive bud as he teases your entrance.

“shit—chris!” you cry out, gripping his hair harder in your knuckles.

he murmurs again in appreciation, because he’s always loved the feeling, and you quiver slightly from the sensation. it’s too much all at once and yet it’s never enough.

your legs instinctively tighten around his head as he works his tongue up and down fully, making sure he hits every tender spot over and over. it’s magic, however he does it.

you can feel the climax brewing in your stomach as your toes curl slightly, and chris notices your body beginning to shake more frequently.

it was gentle at first, but he’s since picked up the pace, forcing you to grind down on his face as he clutches your around his head. his fingers slide over a bit more, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves in consistent circles.

“oh fuck, gonna make me cum baby.” you barely manage to get it out between moans.

hearing you call him baby only spurs him on, his own erection begging to be freed as continues to work your cunt.

the combined pressure has you whimpering in satisfaction, head thrown back which you know is effectively messing up your hair. your eyes are screwed shut now, lips parted because you can’t seem to stop making noise.

“that’s it, sweetheart. you love my mouth so much, huh?” he pauses only for a second to goad, fingers still deliberately switching paces to draw out the ecstasy.

but then he buries his face again, flicking over your clit at the fastest speed of the night. it’s probably the most intense he’s ever been and you gasp, your breath catching in your throat before a loud whine escapes.

the stimulation is finally too much and you can’t hold back, muscles constricting as you reach your high.

chris doesn’t stop for the entire ride down, though his tongue does grow lazier as you finish for the first time of the night. he doesn’t want to let go of you, finally breaking his contact with your core only to press his wet lips against the inside of your thighs once again.

“jesus christ.” you pant, finally releasing his fluffy hair from your grip.

he chuckles slightly, peppering kisses across your legs until he’s content. “m’not done with you yet. strip.”

even though you’re still hazy from the first round, you’re surprisingly quick to follow direction. you arch your back more and unhook your frilly bra, chucking it somewhere behind you.

chris finally stands back up from his spot on the floor, and you make quick work pushing your underwear down your hips and kicking them off as he watches.

“look who’s finally listening.” he jokes with a grin.

you roll your eyes, and then a new impulse takes over; you want him to know who he belongs to now. so you sit up with him in between your legs, which surprises him enough that he’s still for a moment.

you take the opportunity to mess with the hem of his tee, slowly sliding your palms underneath and up his stomach.

“i showed you mine.” you hint, ghosting your lips over his now-exposed torso.

this time chris is the one obeying, pulling his shirt the rest of the way for you. his dick is right up against your chest, clearly straining through his sweats at this point.

you let your hands wander back down his body, nails skimming along his happy trail until you reach the top of his pants. he’s quick, yanking them down with his boxers and shoving both further away on his floor.

“really wanna ride you.” you whisper, palming him just enough.

he groans at the gentleness of your touch; he’s extra sensitive now that he’s completely exposed. precum is already leaking from his tip, so you swipe your thumb across it and his hips buck a bit in response.

you slide the slick across his shaft, pumping slowly because it’s your turn to provoke him.

“i’d literally do anything you asked.” chris can hear how weak his voice is as he caresses your hair, and he’s genuinely concerned that his eyes have permanently become hearts.

you look up at him, craning slightly to rest your cheek in his palm, and he swears he could cum right then until you pull your hand away.

“lay down.” your voice is low, sultry, and he’s hypnotized.

all he can do is move on your command, shifting past you to sprawl out across his bed, erection slapping against his waist. he barely has time to settle on his pillows before you’re crawling his direction, tossing a leg over his lap so that you can straddle him.

chris hisses out a prayer, hands going to your hips as your wetness comes in contact with his. you’re hovering, enticing him even more as you lightly slide against his base.

“quit—aahhh—teasing me.” he hums, grinding his own erection up against you harder to try and help himself out.

“can’t handle it?” you smirk, even though the truth is that neither of you can bear the torment of taking it slow.

“you’re a lot to handle.”

you know he’s messing around, but your palms press against his shoulders nonetheless so you can lift yourself a bit higher, which makes him whine in protest at the loss of contact.

you shake your head slightly, a patronizing grin finding finding its way to your face. “better get used to it, pretty boy.”

then one hand wraps around his pulsating cock, pressing his swollen head against your lips before you sink down onto it in its entirety. chris whimpers out a muddled sentence, and tight swears fumble out of your own throat as he stretches you out.

chris is overwhelmed by the rush of having you wrapped around him. you haven’t even started moving; you’re just letting him take it in, the same way that you are as he floods your senses.

“so goddamn perfect for me, fill me up so good.” you praise, finally starting to rock your hips at a grating speed.

the compliment gets to his head, and he didn’t think it was possible for you to turn him on more than you already do. he’s rutting into you seconds later, matching your pace instinctively just like you knew he would. you’ve never been bare with him like this, and you lean into the thrill as much as possible.

the passionate tempo helps ease you into his size, though you’ll admit you’ve missed the delicious sensation of having to break yourself in.

chris chokes on his breath, his fingers digging into your sides hard enough now to leave a bruise. “holy shit.”

his words spur you on and you start to really bounce, skin slapping skin as you both try to contain the sounds of pure bliss falling past your lips.

you spread your legs even wider, which allows you to feel every bulging inch of him pounding into you. your nails rake down his abdomen, leaving little lines of red in their wake.

he can’t get enough of the way you fold around him, and it finally crosses his mind that there’s nothing protecting you.

“condom.” chris grits through his teeth, not slowing his momentum despite what he just said.

“buy me a plan b after, need you raw.” you reply quickly, voice pinched as your chest heaves.

you’ve never been careless like this, and it definitely won’t happen again. but right now, having nothing standing between the two of you is all you’re craving. he’s relishing it, truly being skin to skin.

his hands travel to clutch the curve of your ass, helping slam you down so he can hit the right spot, and even now it’s still not close enough. he adores you too much; it’ll never be enough, because he’s always going to want more.

he’s gasping at this point, trying to keep his eyes open just so he can watch you in all your glory. it’s dim in his room and you’re perfectly backlit, tits bouncing as your hair flits around your face.

you’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

every stroke feels better than the last, and your stomach flips each time he drives himself into that sensitive area. you’re clenching hard now, tugging on his cock rhythmically to the point where he’s twitching inside.

“oh-h my god, fuckin love you. my pretty girl.” chris groans, addicted to the excitement of saying it out loud.

that familiar fire burns in your gut, somehow more fierce than the first. you’re tensing again, trying not to get too careless with your pace as your whimpers grow in intensity.

“m’close—i can’t…” you stutter, brain jumbled with incoherent thoughts.

he props his own legs up slightly, using the last bit of his strength to buck into you. he draws out every last second, because he’d live right here forever if he could.

“give it to me, princess, don’t hold back.” chris prompts breathlessly, his vision blurring as his climax rapidly approaches.

your hips connect sloppily a few more times and it crashes over the both of you at once. the room echos with pants and moans of gratification, a thin layer of sweat painting your skin as you come down from your second orgasm of the night.

you feel him release too, painting your walls in a divine warmth that you’re not used to. you’re so strung out that even the tiniest bits of friction you’re still receiving have you gnawing on the inside of your cheek to control yourself.

finally both of your movements slow to a stop, letting the moment settle for a moment as you catch your breath.

you’re closer that you were before, practically chest to chest with him aside from your hands, so you tilt your forehead to his and give him a gentle peck.

“i’m obsessed.” he mumbles against your mouth before you pull away.

you smile, slowly shifting off of him so you can force yourself into the crook of his arm instead. “you’re just figuring that out now?”

“i always knew, trust me.” chris banters, wrapping his bicep around you to pull you tighter against his side.

you sigh as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “so this is real? we’re actually together?”

“if you’ll have me, but i’m yours either way.”

he’s so open, so quick to admit how he actually feels, and it’s everything you’ve been waiting for.

“good, because i’m kind of in love with you and i’ve never been a sharer.”

he chuckles at this, and it already feels so natural. everything has fallen into place, and you're just glad you’re not wasting any more time not experiencing this.

“but you’re not fully forgiven until you buy me that plan b, seriously.” you poke his side playfully and this time you both laugh.

“i think i can make that happen.” chris responds sarcastically, unable to fight the permanent smile that seems to be taking over his features.

every part of him is so content, and it’s the most alive he’s ever been. you bring him to life.

he’s not sure he’ll ever understand how he got lucky enough to fight his way back into your world, but he’ll never take it for granted.

it’s always been you, the bewitching girl next door.

@fawnchives @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @mattybsbitch @mattsmunch @sturnifyed @julessspoetry @beijhe @gnxosblog @braindead4l @orangeypepsi @ponyosturniolo @cupidsword @rainydayenthusiast @sturnvvz @wurlibydominicfike @poopydroopt @bernardsleftbootycheek @trilliwarner @rubyjanexxx @reallykaz @neatcarrot767 @kirby0strombolli @bunnysturns @junnniiieee07 @hrt-attack @sturnssmuts @stunza @beccaluvschris @asturniolos @slutz4sturniolos @mattslolita @alorsxsturn @sturnrc @chrissystur @kellsbells-18 @realqueenofpepsi @snowysosturn @secretfangirly @x0x0bunny @amelia-sturniolo3 @pvssychicken

[stevie-petey]

episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

-

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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⌑  taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @hsllfirescoops @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @​ladyobscurus @moon-flowerss @estaticheart @dreamingofts18 @lanxsee @thecapricunt1616 @aheadfullofsteverogers @marvel-and-music @angie2274 @thescoopstroopers

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 4

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: hello my gremlins <3 i wanted to share with u guys that i successfully moved YAY so that explains the update being slightly behind and the less responses i’ve given to comments (i read them all i swear <3) BUT HERE IT IS \(^o^)/ i took way too long to edit and rewrite the way i believe the story should go, im having so much fun with this series and i want to thank all of u who are supporting it from the beginning or saw the updates as they came. ENJOY the fourth chapter of the Racing Hearts series (ALSO THERE’S 300 FOLLOWERS WOW 🥹 THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT LIKE MY PAGE AND CONTINUE TO SUPPORT MY CRAZY SAD WRITING AND MY DRAWINGS i love reading your funny comments, unhinged reblogs, and talking about your favorite parts of the story, it really gave me the push to write and contribute to the jason todd community) and i just wanted to remind yall…i haven’t forgotten about that hurt/comfort tag :)

Check out the Racing Hearts masterlist! It shows all the updated chapters and upcoming ones <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spicy if u squint, we’re hitting halfway thru the story so let me introduce what i do best…angst HAHAHA

Word Count: 4.1k

“In all of my career, I have to say that I never thought I would be standing here wearing…these.” Jason looked down to his feet.

The camera focused on the two of you standing next to one another, the lens following Jason’s stare toward the ground. The camera woman zooming in on the bright red Lightning McQueen crocs he was wearing.

You sheepishly admired the shoes, proudly smiling back up to Jason. Bewilderment plastered on his face as he couldn’t believe you actually gifted him Lightning McQueen merch, not even in private but in an interview with multiple cameras pointed at him.

What a predicament he was in. He was definitely not offended when you told him how similar the red car and he were.

“It’s a small thanks from the company for completing your third interview with us.” You smiled brightly at Jason. “Also consider it as a way for us to say ‘good luck’ for your upcoming season.”

Jason couldn’t believe it as he laughed. No matter how much time he spent with you, you always surprised him in the best ways.

“Y’know, I thought the Cars jokes were going to fade out, but you’re a bad influence on my fans.” Jason lightheartedly teased you, stomping his foot enough to let the crocs light up.

You fought a straight face, holding in laughter and trying to stay as serious as you could, but you were about to break any second. You bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from smiling, internally promising yourself that you would make sure to get a picture of him later.

You already had his new contact picture picked out.

“I couldn’t think of any other way of showing you my support.” You nodded your head proudly.

“Really? Nothing else?” Jason’s eyebrow rose, his tone sarcastic.

“You’re the best F1 driver I’ve ever interviewed.” You smirked, watching the shoes sparkle.

“I’m the only F1 driver you’ve ever interviewed.” Jason looked at you in disbelief.

“Anyway! We’re closing this as the last part of our series, I’m glad you were able to be a guest before you get busy putting on the RedBull uniform again, I know your fans will really enjoy that—” You wrapped up the finale, finalizing the last public appearance the two of you would have next to each other. A bittersweet ending.

But you always had the Jason laying with you on your couch. Feeding each other dinners, taking motorcycle rides late in the night.

“This can’t be the last time I see you. You’re my favorite interviewer.” Jason lulled his voice, rephrasing your earlier comment back at you. “After all, you gifted me something so…special.”

You paused, shocked at Jason’s forwardness with you, the timber of his voice adding an underlying flirty tone to him.

You’ve never talked to him about the public appearance about the two of you. Could you go public?

It’s for the camera. You silently told yourself.

“You have to win for me to see you again.” You smirked, quickly playing along with his attempt to fluster you.

“That’s too easy, you could try to make this a little harder for me.” Jason chuckled lowly. “It’s almost like you want to see me.”

Oh my.

“So much talk for someone who hasn’t started his comeback season.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “You also didn’t start your last season smoothly, so don’t talk so confidently.”

“But who sat at my last press conference celebrating my win? I don’t end things so easily.” Jason tilted his head as he looked down at you, tension increasing. “I’ll come back when I win, it’ll be our little secret.”

Jason winked at you, the cameras focused in on his face and your reactions.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher between the RedBull Jason on camera and your Jason.

He was his playful self, the signature half smirk trying to get you to blush, but his eyes were soft when he glanced over to you.

You calmly gave in, maybe it was for the camera or maybe it was for you.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, but I don’t think I could keep that a secret.” Your polite smile opposing Jason’s mischievous one. “I don’t think you realize but,” you leaned toward Jason, pausing to eye his figure up and down, gleefully watching him pay attention to your every word. Your smile getting wider at how easily he was wrapped around your finger. “I’m a reporter, I can’t keep that beautiful face to myself.”

“But I’m really good at keeping them.” Jason stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes beamed a playful hue to them.

You cleared your throat, looking at the camera woman who also stared in awe.

Crap, the office was going to get suspicious.

“You should focus on winning first before you make any promises.” You coughed, diffusing the atmosphere Jason created as the film crew watched. “Then call my business number and you don’t have to keep any secrets.”

Once the camera stopped rolling, you resumed your professionalism. Saying goodbyes and getting final pictures for the website and both social medias.

All the previous interviews went well. The fans saw Jason’s personality in action, gaining more attention and love for the racer. Jason’s management team was satisfied with you and the attraction he was gaining before the season started.

It gave him the right press he needed to put him in the spotlight.

After Jason left with his management team, you finalized the video upload that his company agreed to. Your draft for a new article about Jason to be edited and reviewed for the upcoming week. It was business as usual.

Getting work done during the day, then meeting Jason for the evening.

When you got back to your desk, you organized yourself to overlook the release date for the final interview and reviewed for the next big project to tackle now that your work with Jason was finished. Multiple meetings with project managers and your team.

Work was picking up for you, managing larger projects, interacting with larger faces.

Jason lit the hallway to opportunities for you.

Your phone lit up next to your laptop, distracting you from one screen to another.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: pick you up at 6?

You smiled to yourself. Happy, but bittersweet.

You reminded yourself that Jason’s off-season was ending. You wished time could slow down.

—— “Gosh, you’re so clumsy.” You adjusted Jason’s helmet. All the time spent with him reflected in your familiarity with the motorcycle helmet.

“Only for you.” Jason stood there, leaning down to let you reach around his head. Watching you worry about the two of you.

Jason had kept his promise to pick you up.

Most of the time he waited on you to get back from work. Sometimes pushing the boundaries and secretly meeting you for a quick lunch. Meeting him far from where your coworkers frequented.

Your first encounters were hidden behind the idea of work, finding answers to questions for interviews, or suggesting new places to eat.

It was like you couldn’t be apart from one another.

Oh, how you can change a man.

You let Jason fake his ignorance through certain tasks, giving him any reason to get you close to him.

But you gave into his every attempt. Not fighting against his clinginess.

Your roles would switch soon, he wouldn’t wait for you after tiring days of work. You would have to watch him race lap after lap on live television like the rest of the world.

He was leaving soon, you knew he would be busy, it was inevitable, but you wanted as much time before he left.

You sat behind Jason, his body warming the front of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Holding onto him close, wearing the helmet he got you, feeling his solid stomach shift the motorcycle as you rode around the city. You were getting used to your new lifestyle, despite the hidden secrets you shared.

He couldn’t announce a relationship after you were waiting for the last installment of your interviews.

The timing wasn’t right and the meetings this would cause for you and Jason were going to give you a headache.

You heard the motorcycle engine interrupt your thoughts.

Jason slowing at a red light. He stopped, placing his feet on the ground to stabilize the two of you while you waited. The red glow reflected onto Jason sitting in front of you.

The streets were almost empty. Gotham barely waking to the darkness, a city that never sleeps.

“Jay.” You hesitated behind him.

“Hm?” Jason unconsciously acknowledged, resting his hand over yours around his stomach. Rubbing the fabric of his gloves onto yours.

“I want to stay with you longer.” You calmed your voice, careful in verbalizing your feelings.

“You want to drive around more? I think we can drive by—“ Jason continued to rub your wrists. Cars passing in front of him, the opposing traffic keeping you still.

“No, I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

Jason paused, his hand resting on yours, no longer moving. If the cars weren’t in front of you, crossing the intersection, you would have thought time was frozen.

Jason tilted his helmet back, to get a look at you.

You don’t know what he was looking for, your face covered by a protective helmet like his was, but he found what he needed when the light turned green.

It was green, but you stayed there, no other traffic surrounding you.

Just you and Jason.

“Want to come to my place?” Jason kept his black visor on you. “I have a killer TV to watch Cars on.”

You chuckled. Squeezing his waist a little more.

“Better have a good speaker for playing Life is a Highway.”

Jason smirked, hidden from your eyes as he watched you lean back into his warmth.

The humid air covering the two of you into summer clothing. Thinner fabrics and showing more skin.

Jason wore a simple fitted thin long-sleeve, matching the look of his helmet and gloves. It made a great view of his broad back.

A quiet exhale as he looked forward again, revving his engine to life to make a quick turn, opposite of your home.

You were racing the rain as Jason was taking you back, but after you spoke the magic words, how could he send you back home?

The dark summer rain clouds were no longer behind you, the two of you heading straight for them as you watch Jason take you down new streets, an unfamiliar path to Jason’s place.

“I don’t think you’ll make it to the living room before then.” Jason quietly spoke to the light drizzle hitting your bodies

“What did you say?” You couldn’t hear above the engine.

And he was right.

After you were soaked to the bone, fabric sticking to your form, water droplets falling down your skin. A glossy sheen from the harsh rain falling all around you.

Jason had pulled into his garage.

He was in the same state, wet clothes stuck to his skin. The water from you and the motorcycle dripping onto the concrete floor.

You pulled your helmet off, the only dry place.

Once Jason parked the bike, he took off his helmet, placing it on the nearest work table. Your body shivered as you threw your leg over to maneuver yourself off.

You looked down at your state, smiling in disbelief at being caught in the rain.

Maybe you could wear Jason’s clothes after a nice warm shower. You internally thought to yourself. Excited to enter Jason’s place. A new location unlocked.

When you put your helmet next to Jason’s, you could finally take in all of him.

Black shirt tight from the weight of the water, his hands littered with scars, free from the gloves. His hair dry, but messy.

All his muscles more prominent.

You stood in awe, your chest rising from the breaths you took. Humid air invading the inside of the garage, elevated from warm summer nights.

The sight of Jason reminded you of the professional pictures taken of him, leaving his Formula 1 car after a race. He was sweaty, running his hands through his hair with a towel in hand.

After all the time you spent together, it was your favorite photo of him. You secretly saved it because there was something about the look on his face, happy to win, alive on the track.

How attractive he looked was a definite bonus in your opinion.

Jason glanced over to you, finally realizing the state the two of you were in. He slowly looked you up and down, lost in the same visual you were in awe of once you saw him.

You suddenly remembered the last time you and Jason were enclosed in a garage, close to each other, messy from a hard day of distributing winter jackets and food to those who stopped by.

A slight warmth increasing on your face.

Jason stepped closer to you, hands grabbing for your waist to pull you in. His hands reaching under your chin to stretch your neck to adjust to his height.

Breaths mixing as your lips touched only from the movement of your lips unconsciously opening, ready to kiss him.

He waited.

Letting the pressure build as he spoke.

“There’s no volunteers to interrupt us now.” Jason lifted you, letting you sit on the surface of his work table. His arm swooping everything off as he cleared enough room for you.

You could hear objects fall, but you couldn’t care less as Jason stepped between your legs. Quickly, but carefully rubbing at your legs with his palms, his hands getting closer to the blurs of where your thighs met your waist.

Everywhere felt great that you didn’t know where to focus.

The feeling of your lips, your sides, his body between your legs?

You could only huff between the intensity he was igniting in you.

“Jay—inside—it’s cold.”

Despite your words, you didn’t bother to move. You kept touching, feeling everything before Jason lifted you again, the placement of his hands as he carried you, lifting the edges of your shirt.

The feeling of a mattress beneath you as you uncomfortably tried to peel the clothing off your body.

Jason chuckled at your frustration. You couldn’t bother to give him a snide remark as he also struggled to get your soaked clothes off.

When lifting the shirt didn’t work, you tried rolling the fabric, but it only bunched just below your sleeves.

You could only laugh as Jason desperately tried to get the shirt through your arms. Tangled in the mess you both created that you were left with a heavy shirt stuck around your biceps.

“Why is there always something stopping me from seeing all of you?” Jason laughed as he kneeled above you, his shirt completely off at some point along the way to his room.

“I don’t think a pair of wet clothes are going to stop you now.” You smiled at him, glancing up at his figure through the darkness. Only the city lights creeping through the blinds, illuminating his skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Jason yanked your entire shirt off your arms.

You sucked in a breath at his desperation, memorizing the look of his face as he leaned down closer.

“I want to turn you into a mess.” He whispered into your mouth, kissing down your body.

Overwhelming gasps and breaths left your mouth the more he touched your skin.

“I want to touch you too.” You exhaled, trying to coherently express yourself.

“Next time, sweetheart. I want to focus on you. Everything I want is you.” Jason moved your hair out of your face, stuck from the sweat covering your skin.

The night filled with you repeating Jason’s name, no distractions keeping that man off of you.

After a shared warm shower, Jason gave you a nice pair of his dry clothes. You walked around his place, relaxed after Jason’s…expertise.

What you weren’t prepared for was just how normal his apartment looked. It felt like yours, but bigger, a little more luxurious like it was bought with the intention of having better quality to last longer.

You hoped he had no plans of moving anytime soon.

You stood in the kitchen in awe.

“You have a kitchen island.” You whistled in excitement. “Formula 1 money is good, huh? Maybe I need to pick up a Redbull uniform.”

Jason chuckled, hugging you from behind smelling like the same soap in your hair, his face nuzzling into your neck. You continued to speak.

“No, I can’t steal your fame.” You whispered to yourself. Jason feeling the vibration of your voice the longer he leaned into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” Jason mumbled into you, ignoring everything you said.

“Me too, I’ve been curious where you live.”

“I invited you before, but I guess we’ve always gone to your place.” Jason smiled into your skin. “What do you think?”

“Its very…Jason. I like it.” You glanced around.

You more than liked it. It smelt like Jason. A smell you’ll never grow tired of.

His apartment was slightly bare, the space a little too large for the one man, but that was charming too. It felt like you were able to occupy that small empty space in his life.

When you walked around, Jason following you like a duckling, you noticed the small knick-knacks you bought with him on your dates.

Matching plushies, a book you picked randomly, a bookmark you gifted him, and a tiny paper frog you made while waiting for your table before dinner.

You felt cherished, looking at the physical representations of your memories together.

He grabbed you again, wanting the closeness. You fell back into him, the small paper frog in your hand, made from old receipt paper.

Jason resumed his prior back hug, absorbing your warmth.

He was more clingy than usual tonight.

“How was your trip to the charity today? I forgot to ask you about it at dinner, it must be hard to take a break from them to race again.” You leaned into him more.

Jason buried himself further. Not a great hiding spot since he was larger, but it was the thought that counted.

“I would love to hear about it.” You put the frog back on the shelf, letting it watch the two of you.

“It was good, I got to do one final check to make sure everything would be good when I’m gone. But…” Jason hesitated, squeezing you a little tighter.

You waited, rubbing circles on his forearm.

“I had noticed a lot of stuff come in, it’s a good thing, but it wasn’t like our usual haul. I didn’t recognize it as the stuff I brought over either.” Jason breathed, agitation filling his voice. “When I asked around about it, they said Wayne Enterprises had it delivered.”

Jason went silent. He was tense.

“I always tell that old man to fuck off. He never listens.” Jason sighed.

The last thing Jason wanted was another check from Bruce. Taking over the hard work he had volunteered for months.

Another sanctuary was being taken away from Jason’s grasp.

“I can’t stand it.” Jason whispered. His eyebrows taut.

You maneuvered your head back to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know that was the last thing you wanted to happen.” You soothed.

Jason leaned in for more kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling better already.” He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Jason smiled into your skin, his voice returning to normal. “But looking at those damn crocs every morning makes me mad.”

You laughed as he grew bolder, pushing the topic aside as you leaned to the floor buried from Jason’s affection surge.

If he was deflecting, distracting himself from his hurt then you could let him kiss you a couple times to distract himself.

Shared kisses, lost in each other’s presence, too occupied to notice the multiple buzzing sounds from Jason’s phone.

——

Once the public release of the third and final interview was released to your company’s website, the usual flood of comments embraced the look at the two of you.

You lost yourself in the positive comments, ignoring the negative ones, but that was the price of social media. It was the evils of publicity.

You read comment after comment about the excitement to watch the fresh new season. Iconic racers coming back to their playing field, excited to reveal new car designs, getting the opportunity to collaborate with anyone and everyone.

As the time for Qualifying reached you, the temperature fully warmed and Jason wasn’t next to you to enjoy it.

He had conferences, practice drives, and flights to catch. Now that he was past elimination, it was time to test his fastest time.

It wasn’t even the peak of the season, but you were missing him.

You sighed into your phone, a small vibration felt in your palm. A message from Jason appeared.

It was a photo of his Lightning McQueen crocs on the plane. A big contrast to the fancy carpeting, expensive seats, and an up-to-date screen playing the children’s movie.

You smiled to yourself in your desk chair, but a small prick to your heart struck you.

The difference in your lifestyles hitting you. He was a rich racer, traveling the world in one of the most expensive suits in modern racing.

You felt…small.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what would happen once he started racing full-time again.

How far was this relationship going?

Would you follow him to his races around the world? Should you follow him?

Would you officially announce anything?

Was this an off-season romance? Only an off-season romance?

What about your job?

“Hey, we need to be there by one. Should we grab a quick lunch?” Your coworker called out to you, interrupting your pessimistic thoughts to yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Meet you in the lobby?” You locked your computer, grabbing your key badge, ready to go out of the office.

You quickly typed out a message, taking advantage of Jason still on his phone.

You: Hey slow down try to give the other guys a chance

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: fast is the only way I go. you, especially, should know that ;)

You blushed, quickly putting away your phone to catch up with your team.

——

Jason’s performance during qualifying went as expected. He performed in P1, claiming and boasting as he usually did. His time seemed to be getting faster, raising the competition standards for everyone.

You only shook your head as you looked at the results on your phone, a small smile on your face.

Jason was busy going to opening days, press conferences, driving on the racetrack. His replies were becoming sparse.

You: I knew those crocs were good luck charms

No read receipt. No reply.

You kept yourself busy at work. Falling into a routine.

You checked your phone again during lunch. No messages.

Your apartment felt empty when you came home, no lovable man standing in the kitchen.

Still no reply from Jason. It would’ve made you sad if you weren’t so tired.

Your phone rang as you got ready for bed. Letting your head hit the pillow as you heard Jason’s voice in your ear.

“I just saw— paper frogs that—vendor—the street and—grab some.” Jason’s voice went in and out of your mind, fighting the urge to sleep.

His voice was too soothing.

“That’s nice, Jay.” You slurred.

“Sweetheart? Are you awake—“ His voice started to get farther and farther.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open and your dreams filled with you sitting in the stands, watching Jason race.

Wind hitting your skin, watching the flags fly in the air, engines roaring past you.

He was so far away and kept driving further away from you.

You jerked awake. Looking for your phone in the blankets.

You had fallen asleep while on your first phone call with Jason since he left.

“Shit, I wanted to hear his voice.” You shook the blanket in the air until your phone fell from it.

You looked at your call history. Apparently, it had been a video call, but you hadn’t realized after you woke up this morning.

Jason not only heard you embarrass yourself, but he saw it too. You quickly opened your messaging conversation.

You (Yesterday): I knew those crocs were good luck charms

You (Today): i’m sorry I didn’t know it was a video call

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: don’t worry about it, I got to see u when your phone fell off your face

“Nooo!” You screamed to yourself.

Your face fell in your hands as you read the messages coming in.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I got something out of it HAHAHA

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: let’s talk next time

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I wanna hear your voice

You sighed.

Getting up to start your weekend, putting Jason’s live race on the TV screen.

Putting on the shirt that smelled like Jason.

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk @indulgentdaydream @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @idontknowanythingsblog @xakilicious @livvyliv15

[choccy-milky]

Random but when you post something I always get excited thinking it's a new chapter 😭 I'm literally waiting by my phone for it

BAHAH IM SORRY ANONS ITS COMING SOON I SWEAR!! but im glad ur looking forward to it!! my damn outline ALONE is 21k words (tho im really happy with it and im excited for yall to read it) and although i still have to finish it + the drawing, HERES PART OF THE WIP IN THE MEANTIME🥹💖(also anon, who cares if u think youre terrible at art... DRAW ANYWAY!!!😤& ILY TOO💖 )

im definitely gonna write them as adults, and have ideas for some side stories i wanna do!!! the one i mentioned in the wattpad comment would be in writing, because i wanna write about seb and clora finally deciding to have their first kid (along with the process😏😏😏😏) and how sebs breeding kink ass will react to doing the devils tango with clora when its ACTUALLY gonna make a baby LMAO. plus how his overprotective ass will act when he finds out clora is LEGIT pregnant while theyre travelling/on the JOB, rather than just a pregnancy scare like last time BAHA. so yes, overly excited seb will defs be a thing in the future LOL. (though there are things i am just gonna keep in comic form, like their kids and stuff, bc i dont rly have ideas for any sort of epilogue with that. so if ppl wanna know about seb and cloras kids, they can just look at my art once i finally draw and post them ^^)

IVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO and the hairclip would defs be different!! i just havent decided what it would be.... (bro's about go buy her something bedazzled from ardene or claire's or some shit 💀💀LMAO) as for the mascots, the snake for seb would defs still apply bc ive decided its their mascot for the school football team. but for clora no, i dont think bird/raven imagery would be a thing......tho maybe the school mascots can be the snakes AND ravens LMFAO. and then i can have seb look directly into the camera and say "well, clora, looks like we really are The Raven and the Snake."

@4ever2000lover BAHAHA YOULL SEE YOUR NIECE AND NEPHEW SOON I SWEAR!!! i have the sketches but i plan to finish them + post them once im done the last chap of my fic. but they ARE coming, i promise👀👀(and im rly excited for everyone to see their daughter and her name, bc im so proud of it LMAO. i used up my entire big brain quota for the year on it +the reasoning behind it🧠)

also @blue-space-dragon TYSM IM GLAD U LIKE MY ART AND HOW I DRAW MY BLORBOS🥹💖AND ALSO THAT U FIND IT APPETIZING LMAO😋💖

[ergman777]

did john look for arthur?

What are yall's thoughts/headcannons on what John did after he left Arthur on that hill? How long do you think it took him to go back and look for Arthur, if he ever looked at all? Because at the time ofc his focus was to escape while protecting Abigail and Jack, and I'm assuming the area would be swarming with agents for awhile after, making it hard for him to look (cause hes not sneaky like charles).

But I like to think that even though he knew Arthur was sick and probably wouldn't make it, he still hoped his brother was able to slip away like he always had. That maybe Arthur giving him his hat and satchel wasn't a final goodbye, but a promise to come back and retrieve them later. I also like to think that he'd risk going into town and getting the newspaper to see if there was any word, or use Arthur's old binoculars to spy on the sheriff's "wanted" poster board from afar, to make sure his bounty wasn't taken down.

I imagine he held onto hope for a little while like this, maybe a few weeks, few months, maybe even the whole first year of Arthur being gone. Even if that hope was only an excuse not to mourn, or face the realization of his brother's death.

Maybe he made sure no one touched the things in Arthur's satchel for awhile, figuring it'd be rude to riffle through his things if he ever came back.

but he never did

Idk I feel like we never realize it bc our minds are usually elsewhere when chapter 6 ends (just like FULL ON sobbing) but 8 years is a MASSIVE canonical gap between John seeing Arthur for the last time and Charles confirming he indeed buried him- 8 YEARS FOR THIS KIND OF ANGST BABE

(also forgive the sketchiness, I did this on a trackpad bc I left my drawing tablet back in the states T-T)

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Four

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuss words, and… angst

Notes: I fell asleep after I decided to add a Jasper dialogue last night… I’m sorry it’s later than normal lol remember, I told yall Jasper has to make up for his being gone😌🫣

Word Count: 2373

Series Masterlist

• March 20th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

The weekend passed by in a blur, I spent it wishing I got more time with Jasper, but he desperately needed to hunt. So that left me with Quil, if he noticed my far-away mind, he didn’t comment, the new video game he picked up Friday occupied most of his attention.

Friday. I jumped off a cliff with Bella, was rescued by Quil’s ex-best friend, and then the object of my every waking thought showed up at my doorstep.

Friday was a long day, to say the least.

Which brings us to today - Monday. I have to go to school as if it were a normal fucking day, like my weekend hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life. Like my other best friend isn’t in Italy right now fighting to save the man she loves.

Slamming the door shut to my locker, I turn towards the direction of second period when a hulking mass at the other end of the hallway stops me short.

The blonde next to him grins, gracefully walking in my direction as if no more than the weekend had passed since I last saw them.

“Life has been rather dull without you.” Rosalie brings me into a delicate hug, the smile on her face growing.

“I missed you too.” The words aren’t much more than a whisper and my heart twists in my chest, they’re really back.

My eyes haven’t left his and they’re so full of sadness. The hallway empties out, but neither of us has managed to move an inch or look away.

Rose nudges me, “Go.”

A simple word, but the command moves my feet. It started off as one step and then two, but then I’m halfway down the hallway in a full sprint. Emmett takes one large step and then another before I fling myself into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

“I hate you.” The words aren’t true, but this ache in my chest can’t be described any other way.

“I know.” His words are muffled as he lifts me.

“I missed you every day.” Tears well in my eyes, making it hard to see the grin splitting Rosalie’s face.

“I missed you more.” He argues back.

Safety, that’s Emmett McCarty Cullen. He’s strength and power and softness that only a man his size with his heart could exude. He is the definition of protector - someone that would go to any lengths to safeguard those closest to him. And just his hugs alone could cure anything, the hug of a brother who cares immensely.

“You left me.” The tremble in my voice gives my hurting heart away.

He clears his throat, “And I put him through hell every day for it.”

“He really has.” Rose confirms, full on smiling at me.

Emmett sets me back down on my own two feet, holding my shoulders in his massive hands, “Never again, I can promise you that.”

“Emmett-” I start, but he isn’t having it.

“Nope, we’re already late for class and I have some catching up to do.” Winking, he offers me one arm and his mate the other, leading us in the direction of next period.

• March 21st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, you got a sec?” Knocking on the door frame to my mother’s bedroom, I watch as she turns off her tv.

“For you? Always honey, c’mere.” She pats the bed in front of her, her full attention making me a little nervous.

I sit and work up the courage for a few beats. “He’s back.”

“I know, I saw Doctor Cullen at work yesterday.” Her calm answer surprises me.

“I’m not sure what to do, momma.” I pull at her old bed spread, hoping for some words of wisdom.

“Well, you have options.” Her warm hands cover mine and encourage me to meet her eyes. “You can kick him to the curb since he dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”

“Or?” I ask, provoking her to complete her unfinished advice.

“Or, you can give him another chance.” A beat of silence while I weighed her answer. “You don’t have to do it right away either, you can ask for space to think about it. You can make him talk it out too.”

I process the possibility of cutting him out of my life for all of half a second before my heart tells me it’s impossible.

“Talk to him, I know you need to.” My mother has always been able to read me like a book, it’s why it’s so easy to get along with her.

“Why give me options? Why not forbid me to see him?”

Her knowing smile grows, “Because you’ll do what you want anyways. And no matter how much I want to protect my baby,” she lovingly strokes my cheek, “you have to navigate this in a way that heals that pretty heart of yours. I’d be failing you as a parent to not allow you to figure this out.”

“Mom-” tears threaten the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t think that means I’ll cut him some slack.” She jokes, but her tone includes some seriousness. “He hurt my baby.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Always sweet pea, I love you too.” She delivers a sloppy kiss to my cheek before reclining back to her previous tv-watching position.

Rising from her bed with a lighter heart in my chest, she stops me at her doorway, “I got your back kid, whatever you decide.”

I turn and give her a genuine smile, “I know, thanks mom.”

• March 22nd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Setting my tray down at the dubbed “Cullen table” I make direct eye contact with Edward as I stand before the siblings.

Don’t fucking do that again.

His face splits with a grin. “To which are you referring?”

Leaving her, leaving your family, going to Volterre with a death wish, you fucking idiot.

He actually laughs at my angry directive thoughts, the bastard.

You have people that care about you, you know. My eyes soften as his meet mine seriously. Including me. I’m glad you’re safe. And home.

He nods, unable to meet my eyes now.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so adverse to physical affection.” Before I finish my statement, he rises from his chair to round the table towards me.

Shock roots me to the spot as his arms envelop lightly around my frame, my arms hesitantly wrapping around the tall Cullen after a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered low enough for just me to hear and he’s returning to his seat.

Emmett’s jaw practically hits the floor, “You’ve never given me a hug-”

“Because your hugs are rather violent in their intensity.” Edward notates.

“But-” Emmett whines.

“No ‘buts’, I’m his favorite.” Sticking out my tongue at Emmett as I take my seat next to Jasper, the jealous vampire launches into a deep explanation of why he must be the family favorite.

“Thank you for starting something I will never hear the end of.” Jasper leans over to whisper in my ear as I grin at Edward who rolls his eyes.

“Glad to be of service.”

Reader

That afternoon I rode with Alice to the Cullen’s after school, something about an intervention with Bella and their family. And naturally, the curious part of me agreed to tag along.

The moment her car comes to a stop in their driveway, Jasper is opening my door and offering me a steadying hand.

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask, watching as Alice skips ahead of us.

“Not a clue, sweet girl.” He answers, leading me inside his family home.

His cool hand enveloping mine sends a pang through my chest, it’s like none of this is real - I’m just in some heavy dream. I’ve wished and hoped for their return with every fucking cell in my body, but now that they’re back? It’s surreal and I’m on edge - I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Standing loosely in a circle in the living room, our attention turns to Bella on the stairs, Edward looming behind her.

“You all know what I want. And I know how much I’m asking for. The only thing I can think of, for it to be fair, is to just vote.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up.” Bella shushes Edward from his grumbling.

Bella is asking them to vote on her becoming a vampire? A slight tremble begins in my hands, this isn’t exactly a debate I’d wished to be a part of. I mean, what would this mean for me? Would we eventually have one of these for me?

“Alice?” Bella asks, opting for starting with the one securely in her corner.

“I already consider you my sister.” She surges forward to wrap her in a hug. “Yes.”

One vote yes.

“Thank you.”

“I vote yes.” The rumble of Jasper’s chest under the hand I have placed there stops my breathing. “It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.”

It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time. The words ring in my ears and burn my chest, repeating.

Two votes yes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to both of you for how I’ve acted. And I’m really grateful that you were brave enough to go and save my brother.” Rosalie’s next sentence a quiet confession within her answer, “But this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. And I wish there had been someone there to vote no for me. So, no.”

A breath, one vote no.

“I vote hell yeah.” Em spins her around in his excitement, “We can pick a fight with these Volturi some other day.”

Three votes yes, one vote no.

“I already consider you a part of the family, yes.” Esme happily gives her blessing as Carlisle steps forward to look at Edward.

Four votes yes, it’s almost unanimous.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks his adoptive father. “You know what this means.”

“You’ve chosen not to live without her, which leaves me no choice. I won’t lose my son.”

Carlisle’s answer is like a gavel being slammed down, sealing her fate, confirming what she wants.

Bella meets my eyes, even I can tell relief floods them as I’m sure anxiety fills mine. She’s going to turn into one of them - a vampire.

Jasper

After a few heavy minutes following the votes of my family, I turn to Y/n.

“Would you like to go home? It’s getting late.” I ask her, but her eyes are distant.

Immediately I gently probe at her emotions, but I can feel her trying to suppress them. I furrow my brow as I look down at her, why is she hiding from me?

I tilt her chin back and she removes herself entirely. Ice, I know as a vampire my core temperature is already low from the absence of blood in my system, but with her physical departure - it feels as though every ounce of warmth has been zapped from my very soul.

“I need time.” Her request is hardly a whisper and her eyes still refuse to meet mine.

Shock roots me to the floor, time? She’s asking for time from me. Not with, from. Away. Without.

And I must grant it to her. I’d give her anything in this world she would ask for.

I remove myself a step back from her even though my chest wishes to tug me forward.

“Emmett?” I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, he immediately answers by way of flashing to my side. “Take her home?”

“Of course, but-?” Curiosity tinged with sadness finishes what he fails to ask.

“Just get her home safe, please.” I step aside, forcing my eyes to my shoes as I clear the path to the front door for them.

Emmett escorts her outside and I swear, every bit of strength leaves and threatens to buckle me. I watch as the Jeep’s tail lights disappear down the driveway from the front windows.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Esme lays a hand on my shoulder as she watches with me, I hate the truth in her words. “She needs to process everything, we haven’t given her the chance and now this with Isabella, it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Love. “Come here.”

I turn into her waiting arms, the overwhelming urge to cry hits me like a fucking freight train when her arms pull me close.

“She will be back, just be patient with her.”

“What if she realizes-”

“Nonsense, she’s hopelessly in love with you.”

I pull back to inspect her face, “What?”

She smiles at me in only the way a mother really can, “My son, trust me. Give her a few days, but she needs to know that love is returned.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve known since the day you first brought her home. I knew then she was yours before you ever figured out she was your singer, I’m a mom like that.” Winking at me, she pats my shoulder. “She makes you happier, lighter. It makes me happy to finally see that in you.”

Venomous tears make my vision swim, more often than not I take the fact that Esme mothers us in ways unique to every single one of us for granted.

Glancing down, I clear my throat like a typical male trying to avoid being emotional, “Thank you, Esme.”

“Dear, you never have to thank me, I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too.” I kiss her on the cheek, our talk having smoothed out my frayed nerves.

Time. I can give her time to think, to process everything that’s happened in the last week. But then she’s mine - she has to know how I feel about her. And if she wants nothing to do with me after that?

Well, I guess I’d give her that too.

But not until after I fight for her, because fighting for her is in my bones. Fighting is all I’ve ever known and it’s time I put it to good use.

Next

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[evera-era]

heal me. (pt 2)

ellie williams x fem!reader, pt one here

warnings: fluff, slight angst, mentions of illness, implied suggestiveness, ellie nurses reader back to health, even more fluff

a/n: eeeee yall i redid this chapter so many times but i think i’m finally happy with it. part 3 will be the last one!

Ellie had found herself much more aware of your existence. It’s been a few weeks since your last conversation, and now, her eyes searched for you almost everywhere she went.

Sometimes she would linger on the streets of Jackson — walking home almost agonizingly slow — for a chance to run into you. If she was lucky, she would find you tending to a crying child, or helping someone cross the street. And if you noticed her, too, you’d exchange a small wave.

She was a little embarrassed about it. She told herself that it’s because she has time to pass, and nothing really to rush home to. But she’s never done this before, and deep down she knows the truth.

It was the sound of your voice that surprised her as she was returning from patrol one day.

“Ellie!”

She quickly turned her head, blinking two or three times before realizing that you were really in front of her.

“Oh, hey.” She says, her eyes illuminating at the sight of you. “How— How are you?”

“I’m good.” You eyed her torso for a moment. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

“I, uh, just got back from patrol. Dropped my horse off.” She explains. “Oh, and um… the cut is almost done healing.”

“That’s great,” You beamed. God, even your smile was alluring.

A sharp wind blows across Ellie’s face, and yours. It tousles your hair that you had so obviously tried to brush down. She can’t explain why, but she thinks you look better this way.

A few people passed by as you stood several feet apart, fidgeting shyly. “I figured it was all good when you didn’t come back to see me.” You added, looking down at the ground.

Shit, She thinks. “Damn, wait, I’m sorry—“

“It’s okay—“

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I did, I just…” She scratches her head. “Wasn’t sure if it was right of me to go, like, during business hours.”

You found it intriguing how seriously Ellie had taken the matter. And then you think of something funny in your head, and catch yourself laughing a bit. Ellie watches intently.

“So… you’re trying to visit me after hours?” You joke lightheartedly. “Wow. We’re moving fast already.”

“What?” She asks hesitantly. “Fuck, that was weird, wasn’t it? That’s not what I meant—“

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” You say quickly, taking in the way she looks when she blushes. It was cute. “Don’t worry about it, really.”

Ellie scoffs, taking a moment to catch her breath. Her heart had stopped for a second there.

“But…” You begin, and Ellie perks up. “I’m a pretty cool person outside of med clinic, so we could always hang out when I’m off. And I don’t look… shitty.”

Pfft, Ellie thinks. If this is you looking shitty, then shitty looks great on you.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She says quietly. “Uh, are you normally, like, busy, or…”

“No, not really.” You reply. “Most days I’m out of the clinic by dinnertime.”

“Oh.”

The conversation goes quiet again. You were worried; you didn’t want it to seem like an empty promise. So you look off to the side before mustering up the courage to ask.

“How about tomorrow?” You question. “We can meet back up here. If you’re not doing anything.”

She raises her eyebrows. Truthfully, she’s surprised that you asked. It would have taken her a thousand years just to man up and do it. Typical Ellie fashion.

“T-Tomorrow?” She asks.

“Yup. Sound good?”

Damn, you were cool. Ellie looks down, smiles, then nods. Her ears were becoming hot again.

“Okay, cool.” You backed away for a moment before grinning. You break into a slight jog, and she looks back up again. She can see your hand shooting into the air to wave at her.

“I look forward to our date!” You yell during your departure.

Ellie nearly passes out.

—

The next day, Ellie had gone back to the same spot as you said, promptly around dinnertime. But you were nowhere to be found.

Nor were you there the day after that, or the day after that.

At first she was confused. And then she became frustrated — no, annoyed. Why would you act so nice if you were just gonna leave her high and dry?

It’s not until a few days later, when she passes by a group of women on the street, that she discovers why.

“Have you heard about the new girl? The medic?” One of the women asks.

“Yes! I’ve heard she’s great,” The other chimes in. “But she’s been out sick. Stomach bug, they say.”

“Really?” The other replies. “Oh, I hope she gets better soon. The clinic is gonna struggle without her.”

Ellie immediately felt like shit. Here she was, writing herself off from ever looking your way again. And meanwhile, you were stuck at home, not at all by choice.

She had decided if you couldn’t show up to the date, then the date would just have to come to you.

So she spends all afternoon preparing a warm meal for you. She wraps it up carefully, and takes one of her favorite books. She tucks her journal in her backpack, too.

It takes her a while to find your house. It required a bit of asking around, especially considering how you joined the community not too long ago. But Ellie is persistent, and she eventually finds out where you live.

You stayed in a shed that was visibly transformed into a studio apartment. You had planted some daylily bunches along the short walkway leading to your door. A small gesture, but it brought life to your humble new home.

Underneath laid a coir mat. A small hanging plant hung near your porch light.

Ellie swallows softly before knocking three times. Her calloused hands cradle around the round container as she anticipates your answer.

But you don’t. And her heart drops again, as she places another sequence of knocks on your door. She feels uneasy — what if something happened to you?

Her thoughts come to a halt, though, when the door handle jiggles and you sleepily open up.

Ellie breathes a sigh of relief.

“E-Ellie?” You rubbed at your eyes. “Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“I…” She clears her throat. “I heard you were sick. You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just about to go back to work tomorrow.” You sighed. “God, Ellie, I’m so sorry. We were supposed to hang out that day, and—“

“It’s fine,” She says quietly.

“I spent all day cleaning, and researching... trying to get back on my feet.” You look down at the bowl in her hands. “What’s that?”

“Oh, uh… it’s bean soup. Made it myself.” She grimaces. “It might not be that good, now that I think about it. I don’t cook often.”

You smile warmly, tugging at the hem of your oversized sweater.

“Thank you… that’s really sweet of you.”

She holds the container out, and you receive it with gentle hands. She shuffles her feet.

“I, uh…” She pulls at her backpack strap. “I brought something else for you, too, if that’s alright.”

“Of course!” You motion for her to come in. “Here, set it down inside.”

You turn, tucking your hair behind your ears as Ellie makes her way in. She closes the door behind her, examining the setup.

Some of your belongings were still in boxes, in the corners of the room. Most of it was unpacked — necessities, anyway.

You had accumulated a stack of medical textbooks during your initial supply run. You also had tons of rags, which she assumes is used to make bandages when you’re at work.

As for your decorations, she finds them intriguing. The rugs and posters you had up on the wall reflected your aura quite well.

“I’m sorry about the mess.” You added, taking the lid off of the soup. “I’ve still been trying to get settled.”

“You’re good,” She smiles. “I like it so far.”

You gleam back at her before beginning to sip on some of the broth. Her eyes widen as she slings her backpack off of her shoulder.

“Oh, right.” Her hand slides into her bag, and emerges with a thin comic book. “Have you ever seen this before?”

You shake your head.

“Savage Starlight.” She pinches the spine with her fingertips. “It’s… a pretty good comic book series.”

“You have more?” You ask.

“I have the whole collection,” She replies. “Back at my place. I’m kind of obsessed.”

You took another spoonful of soup, looking down into the bowl. “That’s really cool… I don’t think I’ve seen a comic book in ages.”

Ellie knew it was probably a dumb move. She had spent years collecting this entire series, and here she was, opening up about it to a stranger. But she wanted to trust you — she wanted to get to know you — and she couldn’t accomplish that without being a little vulnerable herself.

Ellie looks up for a moment, then sets the comic book down on the dining table. You raise your gaze.

“You can read it, if you want.”

“What?” You scrunch your brows. “No way. I mean, that’s part of your collection, right?”

“Yeah, but… you can just bring it back.” She shrugs. “No biggie.”

Truthfully, it was a biggie. Hauling it to your house was an ever conscious decision. But she’s also hoping it would give you an excuse to come see her from now on. If you liked the book, that is.

You sighed and waited a few seconds before looking up at Ellie.

“Let’s do a redo.” You blurt out.

“W-What?”

“Our date.” You clarify. “I wanna do a redo of our date.”

Ellie ponders, staring at you intently.

“It was supposed to be nice, and then I got sick, and I ruined it—“

“It’s fine, I swear—“

“And I just… I feel bad that you’re even here.” You look up at her. “I’m supposed to— to be the medic, yet you’re here taking care of me. We barely even met.”

Ellie looks down at her feet, kicking at the ground. And then, ever so softly, she mumbles:

“I like this.”

The air is still, and you can feel your heart swell in your chest. Just a little bit.

“I liked… coming here, and seeing that you’re okay. Even if it’s just for a day. ‘Cause nobody thinks about how, after everything you do, that you might need some help too. You know?”

She fixates her green eyes on you before resuming. “So just… please don’t say shit like that. Okay? I wanna get to know you.”

You didn’t know what to say, or how to respond. Even if you did, you probably couldn’t. Your heart was fluttering too fast in your chest.

“Shit… It’s getting dark,” She says after a moment. “I might start heading back.”

You nodded, rising from the dining table. You steadied yourself as she began heading for the door.

Ellie’s hand reaches for the handle, but then she pauses, and turns to face you.

“When you feel better.”

Your voice was softer than ever. It was your turn to be confused. “What?”

“Our date,” Ellie comments. “When you feel better, we’ll redo our date. You can come over to my place, and I’ll show you the rest of the collection there. Okay?”

You smiled.

“Okay.”

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 14: HALF RETURN

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader

He can’t complain about being touch-starved. Not when he has two kids who were alone for God knows how long.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: graphic depictions of cursed spirits? blood. angst and such

ੈ✩ wc: 6.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: heres a fat chapter for yall you can stop complaining now

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

August, 2009

Gojo Satoru has never felt this powerful before. It should scare him, but his veins are surging with something above human. Gold-lined arteries as bright as the sun above him. The air crackles with energy around him, a visible distortion that warps reality itself. Satoru flexes his fingers, marveling at how the world seems to bend to his will. He can feel every particle, every atom, dancing at his command. He understands now why people would compare him to a God.

He is a fucking God. Nothing could kill him. Nothing could touch him.

He’d woken up in his own blood. Now, he stares, half-mad at the man bleeding in front of him.

“Any last words?”

Fushiguro Toji blinks back at him as if he’d just noticed the boy’s presence. Ah, a boy. Barely twenty with the world in his hands. When Toji was twenty, he was getting lashed by the Zenin elders. He doesn’t have it in him right now to feel bitter. He remembers his own boy, how he shares his eyes, his mean mug.

Blessing, he’d named him.

“In two or three years, my kid will be sold off to the Zenin clan,” Toji drawls.

Satoru raises a brow.

“Do with that what you will.”

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face, Satoru notices. The smallest bend of the scar adorning his mouth. Who smiles at their executioner?

Fushiguro Toji drops to the ground. Satoru only hears the buzz of cicadas and the thumping of his own heart.

Satoru stares at the fallen body, his mind reeling. The power coursing through him begins to ebb, replaced by a creeping unease. He'd expected satisfaction. Vindication. A cussing out, at least. Instead, he feels hollow.

He kneels beside the man’s body, searching for answers in the man’s lifeless face. It’s as if Fushiguro’s face has a permanent hint of a smirk. Either that or Satoru imagines the final act of defiance. Satoru's eyes remain fixed on Toji's lifeless form, the man's final words echoing in his mind. A child. Sold to the Zenin clan. The implications slowly sink in, piercing through the haze of his newfound power.

"Fuck," he mutters, running a hand through his white hair.

The cicadas continue their relentless chorus, indifferent to the life just extinguished. Satoru's gaze drifts to the horizon, where the sun hangs low, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. It reminds him of Suguru, of Riko. Of you. Of promises made and broken.

He closes his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. When he opens them again, resolve hardens his features. He may be a god among men, but he's not above the weight of consequence. Not anymore.

He takes a step back, suddenly aware of the blood on his hands, on his clothes. The metallic scent fills his nostrils, making him nauseous. The world that had bent to his will moments ago now feels oppressively still.

The sun beats down mercilessly, and Satoru realizes he's been standing there for far too long. He needs to move, to report, to do something. But the thought of Toji's child nags at him, an irritating itch he can't scratch.

The summer heat presses down on the boy-god, suffocatingly so. He stands, wiping blood from his hands onto his slacks. The divine feeling from moments ago is distant now. Only human uncertainty lingers.

__

Satoru has dreams about the human with the scar splitting the side of his lip. It’s always the same — Fushiguro’s final words, his entire side blown to bits from Satoru’s hand. Satoru feels nothing until the man speaks. He always says something different, but it’s more or less the same.

– Any last words?

– Last words? Kid, I've been dead since the day I was born.

– You don't get it, do you? I could unmake you without a thought. I could rewrite reality itself.

– You really are a cocky bastard. What would that prove, huh? That you’re special? 

Toji coughs blood onto the ground. It’s a wet, rattling sound.

– I used to envy power like yours. Now I know that I was better off a monkey. Power like that curses you. It’ll eat you alive, boy.

– I was born this way.

– Take some advice from a dead man walking, then.  Don't let that power define you. It's a tool, not your soul.

How absurd. Power is all that Satoru has. Yet, something in Toji’s words strikes a chord.

– Why should I give a shit what you say?

– Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe I’m suffering from blood loss. 

After every dream, Toji dies before he speaks again. Each time Satoru wakes up in a panic, he remembers the phantom of two faces. A frail girl and a sullen boy with sharp eyes.

October, 2011

“You gotta like… divide it. You know?”

“Huh?”

Satoru frowns at the worksheet in front of him. Despite being at the top of his class his whole life, he never really cared about academia. He aced everything that was important, and then the information was lost in him. Math was easy, sure, but he didn’t know how to explain it properly to an eight-year-old.

“Look,” he says, pointing to the numbers. “See how this number on top is bigger? That makes it an improper fraction.”

“Yeah?” Megumi replies, bored.

“So, we gotta divide the big one by the little one to get the mixed fraction.”

“But it doesn’t divide evenly…”

“Yeah, so you kind of just… uh, put the leftovers in the fraction part. Next to the whole number.”

Megumi frowns, probably about to complain about Satoru’s lack of teaching instinct, when Shoko walks in. She pauses, a cigarette in her mouth, and flashes Satoru a confused look.

Satoru waves her off with a dismissive hand, turning his attention back to Megumi. The boy's intense green eyes are fixed on the paper, brow furrowed in concentration. For a moment, Satoru sees a flash of Toji in that expression—the same stubborn determination.

"Okay," Megumi says slowly, pencil hovering over the page. "So... seven divided by two is three with one left over?"

"Exactly," Satoru nods, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "So you write it as 3 1/2."

Megumi scribbles down the answer, then looks up at Satoru expectantly. "Is that right?"

"Perfect," Satoru grins, ruffling the boy's hair. Megumi scowls and ducks away, but there's a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

Shoko clears her throat, reminding them of her presence. She exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Yo. You babysitting now?”

“Hey, don’t light up in front of the kids.”

“Since when do you babysit?” she narrows her eyes. “It’s not like you need the money—”

“Hold on, Megs,” Satoru interrupts. The boy happily ignores him, immediately opening Satoru’s Gameboy Advance while Satoru drags her into the nearby bedroom.

After he finishes his spiel, she looks at him with disbelief. 

“What the fuck—”

“No swearing, either.”

She scoffs. “You can’t just kidnap some kids. Don’t they have any relatives that can take them in?”

“Uh, yeah. The Zenin clan,” he mutters, keeping his voice low with the door open. He looks over at Megumi on the couch, whose brows are furrowed as he plays his game. In many ways, he really was the spitting image of his father, baring the same teeth ready to snarl. Wounded pup ready to bite. Of course, he was cut from that same Zenin rib. 

Satoru sighs. Tsumiki appears, hair disheveled from her nap, and tugs on his sleeve. 

“Mister Gojo?”

“Yeah, sweetheart? And you don’t have to call me that.”

Her stomach growls before she can speak.  

Shit, he forgot to run to the store to buy more food. Shoko looks at him flatly, knowing full well that he eats like the typical university student despite having the money to get whatever organic shit they sell at the overpriced health food stores. 

“Aunt Shoko can take you out. You want a burger or something?”

He gives Shoko a pleading look, to which she rolls her eyes. “C’mon, kid.”

Shoko takes Tsumiki's hand, leading her towards the door. "Let's go, kiddo. We'll grab something for your brother too."

As they leave, Satoru collapses onto the couch next to Megumi, who's still engrossed in the game. He watches the boy's fingers move deftly over the buttons, his face a mask of concentration.

"You're pretty good at that," Satoru comments.

Megumi shrugs without looking up. "S'okay."

Satoru leans back, closing his eyes for a moment. The weight of his decision to take in these kids is starting to sink in. He's barely an adult himself, and now he's responsible for two lives. Two very complicated lives, given their connection to the Zenin clan. A pair of strays.

Megumi pouts as he button-smashes, ultimately losing a level. It’s almost endearing to Satoru, who sees himself in the boy in moments like these. Still, the ghost of Fushiguro still weighs on his shoulders whenever he looks at Megumi’s haunting green eyes. It’s like pieces of jagged glass, quick flashes of a mirrored history.

Satoru's mind wanders to you again as he watches Megumi struggle with the game. He imagines your gentle hands guiding the boy's fingers over the buttons, your patient voice explaining the intricacies of the game mechanics. You always had a way of breaking things down, making the complex simple and approachable. It was one of the things he loved most about you.

__

Satoru never really has an answer whenever Shoko asks why he decided to take the kids in. Your voice is in the back of his head, calling him selfish. It’s ironic, considering you could take partial credit for taking care of Satoru by simply being there. He was always a spoiled brat and he knew it himself.

His mind is always on you, but as the weeks pass, the thought of you is like a parasite on his brain. You’d be much better at handling the kids than him — hell, it was enough that you had to put up with Satoru’s childish antics when you grew up together.

Maybe he could convince Utahime to return and drag you along. She had always had something maternal about her. It was the way that she nagged and doted on others, the way she’d often beg Shoko to stop smoking, to which Shoko would actually listen (occasionally, for weeks at a time, until she found herself in an unexplainable manic depression again and again).

And you would adore little Megumi, who had the same sarcastic streak as you. Tsumiki would love you, too. She needed a role model that wasn’t Shoko, who often evaded responsibility of the kids by reminding Satoru that she never signed up for it, plus she was serving as something of a mentor for some underclassmen rookies at the morgue. 

Satoru's thoughts drift back to you, to the last time he saw you. The memory is etched in his mind, a bittersweet tableau of what once was and what could have been. Your eyes, usually so warm and inviting, had been cold that day, filled with a mixture of disappointment and something else he couldn't quite place. Hurt, perhaps? Or was it resignation?

It was a miracle you’d kissed him at all, even with the dry streaks of tears on your face. He remembered how hot his chest had felt just from something as chaste as your lips pressing against his. It was almost pathetic.

The memory of the kiss taunts him, a ghost of tenderness in the chaos of his new reality. What the fuck was he thinking, playing a father to these kids? Or an older brother of some sorts. Regardless, he wasn’t qualified. Not in the slightest.

In idle moments, Satoru finds himself absently touching his lips, as if he can still feel the trace of your goodbye. He shakes his head, trying to dispel the sensation that lingers on him like a second skin.

He can’t complain about being touch-starved. Not when he has two kids who were alone for God knows how long.

He remembers the way you'd explain things to him when you were younger, your eyes lighting up with excitement as you unraveled the mysteries of the world. How different would Megumi's math lesson have been if you were here? You'd probably have some clever analogy involving shogi pieces or trading cards, something that would click instantly in the boy's mind.

He tries to ignore the pang of longing in his chest. Things were so much easier when you were kids.

He can still feel your laughter. It’s imprinted in his brain, the way it would bubble up from your chest and come out all airy. He remembers the way your eyes crinkled around the corners when you laughed, the way your hands would gesture wildly when lecturing him.

He thinks about each time he saw you before the last time. Your eyes dragged down by hurt, face turning away to hide it. No matter what he said, the space between you would grow into a chasm. He wonders what you’re doing now, if you ever think of him the way he thinks of you — constantly, achingly.

The warmth of summer is the only thing that keeps him grounded. He lets Tsumiki decorate his apartment with plants she chooses at the farmer’s market — the scent of blooming jasmine and mint wafting all over his living room. It reminds him of the perfume you used to wear.

August is as slow as molasses. Sometimes it feels easy.

September, 2011

Satoru's apartment feels emptier without his towering presence, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of Tsumiki watering her plants and Megumi's quiet muttering as he plays his games. The potted plants Tsumiki lovingly tends to seem to droop, as if sensing Satoru’s absence. The late summer heat clings stubbornly to the city, but there's a hint of autumn in the air.

Satoru had left three days prior. He was alone in his house plenty of times when he was nine years old — this was his logic for leaving Tsumiki “in charge.”

"I'll be back soon," he had promised, ruffling Megumi's hair. The boy scowled but didn't pull away. "Remember the rules. Don't open the door for anyone. There's food in the fridge. And if anything happens—"

"Call Shoko," Tsumiki finished, her voice soft but steady.

Satoru nodded, a lump forming in his throat. He'd never left them alone for more than a day before. But this mission... it was too dangerous to bring them along, and too important to postpone.

Since his departure, the apartment starts to feel cavernous without Satoru’s larger-than-life presence. A storm brews over Tokyo, which leaves Tsumiki to slam all the windows closed in paranoia. She checks the locks every hour.

“You’re being dramatic,” Megumi huffs.

“No, I’m not,” Tsumiki frowns. She’s overprotective over Megumi, who’s usually occupied by Satoru’s brand new Nintendo 3DS, which came with dozens of games that he knowingly bought to occupy the boy.

It rains heavily that night, then the next. On the third night, the sky is eerily yellow, fading into a burgundy by dusk. Blood moon. Megumi and Tsumiki are huddled on the couch, the Nintendo dead and forgotten on the coffee table. Despite there not being rain, the weather outside is windy enough to blow the power out. Outside, the wind howls, rattling the windows with an odd persistence.

It’s as if something had changed in the atmosphere entirely. The shadows feel deeper than usual, if that was possible. Megumi feels it first, a prickling sensation at the base of his skull.

His stomach growls. There’s no way to heat up leftovers, goddammit. As he steps out towards the pantry, Tsumiki’s favorite jasmine plant withers before his eyes, its vibrant green leaves turning black and crumbling to dust.

Something is terribly wrong.

The air grows heavy, thick with an unseen presence. The shadows in the corners of the room seem to writhe and stretch, reaching out with inky tendrils. A low, guttural growl emanates from somewhere beyond the walls. There’s a scratching at the door, soft at first, then growing more insistent. Megumi's eyes widen, his hand instinctively reaching for Tsumiki's.

Megumi's heart races as he recognizes the telltale signs of a cursed spirit manifesting. He'd seen it before, back when...

He shakes the memory away, focusing on protecting Tsumiki. 

"It's probably just a cat," Tsumiki whispers, but her voice trembles.

The scratching stops, replaced by a low, guttural growl that sends chills down their spines. This is no cat.

Megumi springs into action, dragging Tsumiki towards Satoru's room. They barricade the door with a dresser, their hearts pounding in their ears.

"We need to call someone," Tsumiki says, her voice barely audible over the sound of splintering wood from the living room.

“W-We’re fine,” Megumi huffs nervously. His Divine dogs are braced for danger and both double his size. It’s fine, he tells himself.

“Gojo said you can’t use your technique yet. It’s too dangerous.”

“Well, someone has to protect us around here!”

“Don’t,” Tsumiki warns. “Let’s just call Shoko.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, fumbling for the emergency phone Satoru left them. His fingers shake as he scrolls through the contacts. Shoko's name is there, but something makes him pause. Another number catches his eye, labeled simply "Last Resort."

Without thinking, he presses call.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. Each second feels like an eternity as the shadows in the room seem to pulse and grow.

Finally, a click.

“Hello?”

"Please," Megumi chokes out, terror making his voice crack. "We need help. Gojo's gone and there's something in the apartment and—"

“Whoa, slow down—”

Tsumiki takes the phone frantically.

“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Something's wrong, there’s something outside, and Mister Gojo isn't here, and we found your number, and—"

“Hey,” you whisper softly. “Just relax a second. Who is this?”

"I'm Tsumiki," she says, her voice steadying slightly at the calm in your tone. “Is… is Shoko there?”

“No… I’m a friend of hers—”

“Mister Gojo is away,” Tsumiki interrupts. “We’re supposed to call Shoko if anything happens, but my brother Megumi called your number instead—”

A low, rumbling growl cuts through the air, causing both children to freeze. Megumi's eyes widen as he sees something move in the shadows, something with too many limbs and eyes that gleam with malevolent hunger.

"What was that?" you ask, your voice sharp with concern.

"There's something here," Megumi says, taking the phone from his sister. "Something... not normal. The shadows are moving, and—"

Another growl, closer this time. Tsumiki lets out a small whimper, pressing close to her brother. Megumi's head snaps up, green eyes narrowing as he listens intently.

"Megumi?" Tsumiki whispers, voice trembling slightly.

He holds up a hand, signaling for quiet.

Megumi's mind races. Satoru had drilled them on what to do in emergencies, but faced with the reality of the situation, panic threatened to overwhelm him. He grabs Tsumiki's hand, pulling her towards Satoru's bedroom.

"Hide," he hisses, shoving her towards the closet. "Don't come out no matter what."

"Megumi, don't!" Tsumiki shrieks, but he ignores her, peering around the corner.

Megumi peers out into the empty. The looming darkness is filled with whispers that he isn't sure are in his head or not. There’s a crash outside and his heart races — is someone trying to break in?

He rushes back to Tsumiki and hides in the closet with her, the phone muffling your voice as he shoves it in his pocket.

“What’s going on?” you demand.

“Shhh,” Megumi whispers.

His heart pounds as he and Tsumiki huddle in the closet. The darkness seems alive, pulsing with malevolent energy. A foul odor seeps under the door – rotting flesh mixed with sulfur.

Through the crack of the closet door, Megumi sees it. Tsumiki bites her lip to stifle a scream.

Standing before them is a grotesque creature, its body a writhing mass of shadows and tentacles. It's barely humanoid, its body a writhing mass of shadows and teeth. Multiple yellow eyes blink at random across its form. A gaping maw lined with needle-sharp teeth stretches open, dripping black ichor. Tendrils of inky blackness slither across the floor, probing every corner of the room. Where they touch, the carpet withers and disintegrates.

A face emerges from the writhing mass - if it can be called a face at all. It's a nightmarish patchwork of mismatched features, eyes blinking open and closed at random across its surface. A mouth stretches impossibly wide, revealing row upon row of needle-sharp teeth.

Megumi's breath catches in his throat. This is something far worse than an intruder — a cursed spirit, the kind Satoru had warned them about but never fully explained.

The spirit pauses, its grotesque head swiveling towards the closet. Megumi's blood runs cold as dozens of eyes focus on their hiding spot. He knows, with bone-deep certainty, that they've been found.

Megumi's mind races. He knows he shouldn't use his technique, but what choice does he have? As the creature reaches for them with elongated, clawed fingers, Megumi summons every ounce of courage he has.

"Divine Dogs!" he shouts, his voice cracking.

Two massive, spectral hounds materialize, their fur crackling with otherworldly energy. They lunge at the shadow creature, tearing into it with ethereal fangs. The being shrieks, a sound that makes the windows rattle and the children's ears ring.

Just as the dying spirit lunges toward them, the bedroom door explodes inward. A familiar figure lands in a crouch, cigarette dangling from her lips. A familiar figure lands in a crouch, cigarette dangling from her lips.

"What the fuck," she mutters, before springing into action. “Get back, kiddo!”

Megumi panics and turns to see Tsumiki shaking in the corner, his heart leaping with adrenaline. Immediately, he covers her as a shield once he realizes that the cursed spirit is regenerating its limbs.

"Hey, ugly," Shoko drawls, flicking ash onto the carpet.

The spirit whirls to face her, letting out an ear-splitting shriek. Shoko doesn't flinch. Her hands move in a blur, tracing intricate patterns in the air. Blue light crackles between her fingers, and the temperature in the room plummets.

"Megumi, Tsumiki," she calls out, not taking her eyes off the spirit. "Cover your ears and close your eyes. Now!"

The children obey without hesitation. Even with their eyes squeezed shut, they see the flash of brilliant light through their eyelids. The spirit's shriek cuts off abruptly, replaced by an odd sucking sound, like air being pulled through a too-small vent.

With a final, ear-splitting shriek, the creature implodes, leaving nothing but a fading wisp of darkness and dark purple blood.

"You kids okay?" Shoko asks, her usual nonchalance tinged with genuine concern.

Megumi nods shakily, helping Tsumiki to her feet.

"How did you know to come?" Tsumiki asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shoko's eyes narrow when she hears a tinny voice. "What is that?”

In the sudden silence, Megumi becomes aware of the voice still coming from the phone in his pocket. His eyes widen when he remembers. He fumbles with the phone, putting it on speaker.

Shoko immediately recognizes your voice. She snatches the phone from Megumi's grasp.

"What's happening?" you yell, your voice tinny and distant.

"They're safe," she says, her tone clipped. "I've got them."

"Shoko?" you gasp. "What the hell is going on? Where's Satoru?"

Shoko sighs, running a hand through her hair. "It's a long story. He's on a mission."

"A mission? And he left two children alone?" The anger in your voice is palpable. "What the fuck?”

Shoko takes a long drag from her cigarette, her eyes darting between the kids and the phone.

“You know how he is,” she mutters, avoiding their gazes now.

"Look, I've got this under control. You don't need to—"

"Under control? Are two children getting attacked what you call fucking under control?”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchange glances, sensing the tension even through the phone line. Shoko sighs, her usual sardonic demeanor slipping for a moment.

"They weren't supposed to be alone," she mutters. "I was meant to check in, but..." She trails off, guilt etched on her face.

"But what?" you press, your voice sharp.

"I got held up at work. A bad case. I lost track of time."

There's a moment of heavy silence. When you speak again, your voice is quieter, but no less intense. "So you’re at his apartment now? He has an apartment? How are the kids?"

"Obviously he does — he’s rich… anyways, that’s not the point," Shoko huffs, glancing around the disheveled room. "The kids are okay, just shaken up."

"I'm coming over," you say firmly. "Text me the address."

"Wait, from Kyoto? I don't think that's a good —" Shoko starts, but you've already hung up.

Shoko stares at the phone for a moment, then turns to the children. Megumi is watching her with those unnervingly intense eyes, while Tsumiki seems to be on the verge of tears.

"Alright, kids," Shoko says, stubbing out her cigarette. "Let's get this place cleaned up before our guest arrives. And maybe... maybe don't mention the whole cursed spirit thing to them, okay?"

Megumi nods solemnly, but Tsumiki speaks up, her voice trembling. "Who was that? On the phone?"

Shoko hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "An old friend. Someone who cares about you two, even if they don't know you yet."

She gives a wry smile and surveys the destruction of the apartment — a shattered window, scorched walls, blood on the carpet. Luckily, it’s all replaceable, but she knows that Satoru will whine about the damage despite the fact that he should be blamed for leaving two elementary schoolers alone in the first place. Ironically, the worst damage to him will be whatever words you have for him once you get back to Tokyo. She almost laughs at the idea.

The night wears on, the silence broken only by Shoko's cleaning and the distant sounds of the city. She puts the kids to bed as she cleans, eventually passing out on the couch.

Hours later, when the first hints of dawn begin to color the sky, there’s a knock at the door. Shoko wakes up and tenses. She immediately senses Tsumiki in the corner, the damn early bird. Her big eyes watch her curiously.

“It’s okay,” Shoko calls to her. “It’s probably… our, uh, guest.”

She opens the door, revealing a figure silhouetted. Tsumiki cranes her neck to get a better look.

You enter the room, your eyes immediately scanning for threats before settling on Tsumiki. Your expression softens.

The air in the apartment feels charged, the earlier supernatural encounter leaving a macabre energy. The residuals are everywhere. They’re suffocating. You can taste the metallic tang of blood in the air. It’s faint but present. 

“What… the fuck happened?”

“Just a.. break in?” Shoko says sheepishly. She isn’t sure if that sounds better or worse than a supernatural entity.

You stare long and hard at the dried blood on the carpet. A cursed spirit.

“Why in the world would the kids attract a curse that big? Was it a special grade?”

“No, no,” Shoko sighs and shakes her head. “A Grade 2 at best. The kids were just spooked. They’ve probably never seen anything like that before.”

You pause, narrowing your eyes.

“Are you going to explain to me why Satoru is housing two children despite not even being able to stay with them?”

Shoko glances at her phone, which somehow managed to get shattered in the chaos prior. The screen glows 6:23 am. She sighs.

“Sit down. I’ll make some coffee.”

__

Satoru is barely awake when he returns to the apartment two days later. His hair is disheveled, the bluish veins underneath in his eyes more prominent underneath his nearly translucent skin. As he approaches the door, he senses something different — cursed energy that’s vaguely familiar. His heart skips a beat.

Something is wrong, but there is also a presence that is rather… comforting behind the door. He can’t quite place the energy. His stomach flips. He pauses, hand hovering over the doorknob, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside.

The sight that greets him stops him in his tracks. There you are, standing in his living room, your eyes blazing with a fury he hasn't seen in years. The sunlight streaming through the windows catches the highlights in your hair, creating a halo effect that makes you look almost ethereal. For a moment, Satoru forgets to breathe.

He freezes completely. It has only been two months since he’d last seen you, yet you’re more beautiful than ever. You’re here. In his apartment, in the flesh. You’re real and solid and so achingly familiar that it makes his heart clench.

“Y/N,” he breathes. Something in you aches when you hear your name from his mouth instead of Twigs.

Before he gets another word in, you launch into a tirade that would make lesser men cower.

“What the hell were you thinking, Satoru?" Your voice is low and dangerous, each word sharp as a blade. "Leaving two children alone in an apartment? Do you have any idea what could have happened? What did happen?"

Satoru opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off with a raised hand. Your words come out in a torrent, each one hitting him like a physical blow.

“No, you don’t get to speak right now. I don’t care if the higher-ups threatened an execution on you if you didn’t take whatever fucking mission you went on! A Grade 2 was here, Satoru. With two defenseless children.”

You're pacing now. Your hair whips around your face as you turn, and Satoru is mesmerized by the way the morning light catches in it.

“And what's this about you taking in two kids, anyway? Since when are you qualified to be a guardian? You can barely take care of yourself! You thought you could do this on your own and have Shoko play babysitter knowing she works her ass off at the morgue? What were you thinking?"

As you continue, gesticulating wildly, Satoru feels a mix of emotions swirling within him. Guilt, certainly, for the danger he'd inadvertently put Megumi and Tsumiki in. Concern for their wellbeing. But underlying it all is a current of... something else.

Your passion, your righteous anger on behalf of the children - it stirs something in him. The way your eyes flash, the way your voice rises and falls with emotion, the way your body moves as you pace and gesture - it's intoxicating.

Satoru knows he should be ashamed, should be apologizing, explaining. But a part of him - a part he's not proud of - is thrilled by your anger. It makes heat pool in his stomach. It means you care. It means you still feel something for him, even if it's fury.

He should be focusing on your words, on the valid points you're making. But part of him is lost in the way your lips form each syllable, the way your hair falls across your face as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Are you even listening to me?" you demand, snapping him back to attention.

"Every word," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You falter for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. Then you continue to rally against him, launching into yet another tirade, and despite the passionate cadence of your voice that he loves so very much, he can’t help but have that fade into the background as he stares at you. Your presence alone is starting to make him feel dizzy.

He's vaguely aware that he should be defending himself, but he can't bring himself to interrupt. Instead, he drinks in the sight of you, cataloging every detail. The way your brow furrows when you're particularly upset. The slight tremble in your hands as you wave them around.

As you continue to berate him, Satoru finds himself fighting the urge to pull you close, to silence your anger with his lips. The thought shocks him - he shouldn't be thinking like this, not when you're rightfully furious with him. But he can't help it. 

You’re still pacing, not even really looking at him as you go on about how fucking stupid he is, and how childish, which somehow progresses into you rambling about one time a few years ago when you were sick at his house during a winter break and he had managed to start a fire while attempting to make soup for you, because that’s how fucking stupid he is. 

You don’t even notice him stalking towards you until he takes your arms in his hands, steeling his grip on you so that he can kiss you square on the mouth. You whine petulantly, pushing him away. He feels a strike on his right cheek that is… well-deserved, honestly.

Your mind reels. You’re not one for being physical besides sparring, but you’ve never hit Satoru in your life. Part of you feels guilty for a millisecond. Part of you is surprised that he let you through his Infinity.

“I– What the hell is wrong with you? Why do you always do that? You do that literally every time we have a fight–”

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I deserved that slap.”

“No shit,” you grit. “This isn’t fucking funny, Satoru. Do you even take me seriously?”

“Yes. You can slap me again if you don’t believe me. Punch me all you want.”

“Okay, don’t make it weird,” you mutter.

“What?” he frowns sheepishly.

You narrow your eyes. “I know you’re turned on right now.”

“Wha– I am not.”

“You are the most infuriating man I have ever had the displeasure of meeting–”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. His voice is earnest. “I really am—”

“Do not interrupt me,” you hiss. 

Yes, ma’am, he murmurs in his head. He lets you yell at him a bit more until you’re particularly out of breath. His gaze on you is still intense, slightly wanton, and once you finish your ranting, you fidget awkwardly at his commanding presence.

It’s now that you start to see him – although you’d seen him on Tanabata, it was brief and night. In the context of his apartment (you knew he could always afford one but didn’t understand why he never just lived off campus before), and the fact that he has a blooming bruise below his jaw, you realize that he’s grown. His features have sharpened. His eyes look tired, his hands more calloused.

You shake away those observations to focus on how livid you are.

“Do you have anything to say?” you snap.

“I really am in love with you,” he mutters. Your eyes widen. 

Before you can react, the door opens, revealing Shoko and the kids. Tsumiki, ever oblivious to the tension, lights up at the sight of Gojo and runs to hug him. Megumi’s curious eyes dart between the both of you. 

“Gojo-san! You’re back!” Tsumiki beams.

Satoru's eyes widen as Tsumiki barrels into him, wrapping her small arms around his waist. For a moment, his gaze flicks between you and the little girl clinging to him, his expression a mix of tenderness and uncertainty.

He bends down to hug the little girl, ruffling her hair affectionately.

"Hey kiddo, I missed you. Were you good while I was gone?"

Tsumiki nods eagerly. "Uh-huh! We made new friends!"

Satoru raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. "Oh really?"

"Mhm! Miss Y/N is so nice! She made us pancakes yesterday and helped me water all my plants."

A soft smile tugs at Satoru's lips as he looks at you. "Is that so?"

You feel your cheeks heat up under his gaze. "Someone had to make sure they were fed," you mutter.

Megumi hovers in the doorway, eyeing Satoru warily. "Where were you?" he demands.

Satoru sighs, standing up. "The mission took a bit longer than expected.”

"You said you'd be back soon," Megumi accuses. "It's been days."

"I know, I'm sorry," Satoru says, looking genuinely remorseful. "I didn’t want to be away for so long. But I'm back now, and I promise I won't leave you guys like that again."

Megumi nods curtly, seemingly satisfied for now. Shoko clears her throat. "Well, now that the gang's all here, how about some breakfast? We picked up a lot of groceries."

As everyone moves towards the kitchen, Satoru hangs back, catching your arm gently. "Hey, can we talk? Please?"

You hesitate, torn between your lingering anger and the earnestness in his eyes. Finally, you nod. "Fine. But not now. After breakfast."

Satoru nods, relief evident on his face. "Thank you."

The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity as Shoko attempts to make French toast (with questionable success) while the kids chatter. You find yourself watching Satoru, the way he interacts with the children. There's a gentleness there you've never seen before, a protective instinct that makes your heart ache.

As you all sit down to eat, Tsumiki regales Satoru with tales of your kindness, how you taught her to braid her hair and helped Megumi with his homework. Satoru listens intently, his eyes never leaving your face. You flush under his gaze, embarrassed. You’d only been around for maybe two days to allow Shoko to rest and you were already getting praised so heavily by a nine-year-old.

"She’s the best!" Tsumiki declares through a mouthful of pancake. "Can she stay with us forever?"

Satoru chokes on his coffee, while you nearly drop your fork. "Ah, well," Satoru stammers, "That's... complicated, sweetie."

"Why?" Megumi pipes up, his sharp eyes darting between you and Satoru. “She should stay. She helped me beat Chocolate Island on Super Mario.”

“Well… Y/N is just visiting. She’s visiting from Kyoto.”

Your heart sinks at the sight of Tsumiki’s pout.

“I can stay for a little bit,” you interject. Satoru and Shoko look at you with surprise. Shoko’s raised brows falter as her expression turns into one of amusement.

“You should sleep in the guest room that I was sleeping in. I only use it when I have to stay overnight, anyway,” Shoko smirks. You blink at her, your eyes silently telling her to stop talking.

“Yeah! You should stay with us! It’s nice having a girl around,” Tsumiki chirps. “Pleaaaase?”

“I— I’ll have to check with the school. I still have classes and work on the Kyoto campus…” you say sheepishly.

“But you won’t leave today, right?” Megumi asks.

You smile softly. “No, sweetheart, I’m not leaving today.”

Satoru lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding in. The kids drop the subject, easily distracted by Shoko telling a story about an incident in the morgue with her underclassmen. While the kids squeal at the more… grotesque details of her story, you and Satoru exchange glances.

You can't help but feel that something fundamental has shifted. The Satoru you knew - reckless, carefree, seemingly invincible - has been replaced by someone more complex, more human. More vulnerable. The air between you feels charged, electric with lingering conflict.

"Hey," Satoru murmurs, his voice low and urgent. "About what I said—"

"Not now," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended.

Satoru nods, a flicker of something—disappointment? Relief?—crossing his face. "Later, then."

He moves on, immediately turning into his goofy, charismatic self as he engages in conversation.

And as much as you want to hold onto your anger, a part of you is intrigued by this new version of him. He had always been a bit immature and arrogant. He often didn’t take things seriously, but Satoru in the presence of children was something else. He was an accountable man, in more ways than beyond saving others from cursed spirits. A man who takes in orphaned children, who looks at you with such raw vulnerability in his eyes.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever comes next. Whatever this is - whatever Satoru has gotten himself into - you're now irrevocably a part of it. And despite everything, a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that maybe, just maybe, that's not such a bad thing after all.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER THREE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @patscorner @makethemhoesmad @ohbueckers @rosemariiaa @wbbgetsmewetter @authentic-girl03

kalena speakss 🪽! paige has known maraye for no more than two days and she is down baddddd! yall gonna hate me for the end of this chapter icl 🙂‍↔️

May 2025 — Phoenix, Arizona 

“P, she has a boyfriend. She’s straight! Do you understand?” Rickea leans over towards me from her seat beside mine.

We’re in the trainers room, through the glass Cam is doing her rehab while Rae and Dearica talk about God knows what in front of us. This conversation has happened in different variations multiple times during the last two days.

Once when Rickea texted me immediately after the game, telling me I was insane for sizing Maraye up in public (which I was not doing, she’s just dramatic). Another when our flight landed last night, at our lift 20 minutes ago, and once more right now.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not gonna do anything! She’s pretty, I have eyes. That’s it.” I speak in my defense. Maraye having a boyfriend was enough for me to take a step back, she was someone else’s which I simply had to respect. I’m not one to break up a happy home. 

I guess her being straight should also tell me to walk away too, given my track record of hooking up with wildly toxic straight women. Los Angeles would probably not be the best place to continue that tradition.

“Okay but do you understand what I’m telling you. You will get yourself hurt, either by her or— if you fuck something up— by me; and I’m actually starting to like you.”

“Starting to? What about all the tampering you were doing to get me here?” I ask Rickea.

“I ain’t say you weren’t good.” She points, “but that’s not the point. She’s in a relationship.” 

It takes a minute, but everything my teammate says sticks in my head. I was getting ahead of myself in multiple ways. Plus, it probably wouldn’t be ideal for my first pro scandal to involve the most popular musician in the country. If CD was here she’d have probably torn my other ACL if she knew what I was up to.

So I nod. Looking over at Rickea’s stern expression makes me shift in my spot, very clearly irritating the lovely older woman who tapes my ankles. “I’m on my best behavior, swear to God.” I speak. My right hand falls over my heart in promise. 

“Better be. It’s your ass not mine, Rook.” 

—

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

When the door to Cameron and Ben’s gorgeous home swings open, I’m greeted by a very tall and very and very smiley stunning Cameron Brink. She wears a black off-the-shoulder maxi dress that touches the floor.

There is a container of Banana Pudding in my hand and with the way she smiles and sighs a breath of relief, I think she likes it.

“Maraye, you’re a lifesaver.” She pulls me into a warm greeting hug and I return the gesture, clutching to the dessert in my other hand. “Don’t tell anyone, but Ben burned the dessert and I was getting a bit nervous.” She whispers in my ear.

I giggle. “Anything I can do to help. Thank you for having me!”

“Are you kidding? Thank you for coming!” Cameron steps to the side, allowing me to walk into the home. I hear the voices of all the guests in the home, specifically the yelling of Ben and his friends to my far left. “Come on, all the girls are in the kitchen, guys will be there in a minute.”

She takes the dessert from my hand and I follow behind her into the kitchen. It was out before me, a vast expanse of modern elegance that seemed to breathe life into the home. Sleek lines and a minimalist design, and an organization that seemed to make it more open. Cameron definitely had good taste. It was around 6, and the sun peered through the blinds and covered the room in a yellow haze.

The dining table nearby is decorated white clean white tablecloth and candles and flowers. We would be making pasta, which is why we started out in the kitchen, but each seat at the table was decorated with crisp plates and personalized name tags.

“This place is beautiful, Cameron.” I comment.

“Thank you! Spent a little too much of the rookie contract on it.” She responds, pushing me just a tad with her finger further into the kitchen. “Everyone grab a partner, you two will be working together on your pasta dough!” Cameron instructs with her voice full of enthusiasm.

So I look up, and all spaces in the kitchen area are all occupied. All but the one and only spot besides Paige Bueckers herself.

She calls me over with a cock of her head. There’s a smirk on her face, one that she seems to keep in her back pocket. She wears dark wash jeans and a white loose fitting top that’s kinda cropped; of course. There’s a red and white short sleeve flannel over it and a gold cross chain that I can’t seem to remove my eyes from.

“How’re you, ma, you good?” She asks me. I think she doesn’t register the pet name before it leaves her mouth, but it still makes my heart race. 

“Look who showed up.”

—

I’m fucked.

I’m so totally, absolutely, fucking fucked.

Maraye is standing in front of me in a short strapless red dress. The top is skin tight but the bottom flows nicely against her thighs and it’s taking everything in me to not stare down at her tits and have her think I’m a perv. It’s like everything that Rickea had told me earlier in the week just went in one ear and out of the other. Just like that. Off of one look.

“Uh, yeah. Couldn’t miss it.” I smile, taking a few steps to my right and allowing her to stand next to me.

Her scent is intoxicating, some sort of Chanel perfume that makes me dizzy in the best way imaginable. 

“You ever done this before?” She asks me. I nervously look out over the counter, the eggs and flour and the cookbook of all different types of pasta shapes. 

“Yeah, once.”

“And It worked out?”

“You’re not giving me enough credit. I’m a great chef.” I defend.

It only takes a matter of minutes for everyone else to get into their own worlds. Cameron and Ben start giving us instructions, mixing up the ingredients and getting to know each other better. I silently thank God for bringing Maraye next to me right now.

“Unt-uh. I’m not touching those eggs, you got it.” I hear her laugh. There’s flour on the waistline of her dress, a matching smear similar to the one across my jeans and my cheek. It got a little messy.

“Nah, I did the flour—”

“—You got it on my dress—”

“—And you got it on my face. C’mon.” I call out for her. Maraye looks up at me again, with those insanely addicting eyes of hers. She takes a step closer towards me and I take hold of both of her wrists, plunging her hands into the well of flour and eggs.

She gasps, the ingredients splashing towards both of us again and I find great satisfaction in the scowl she sends my way. What is wrong with me?

“You’re a dickhead!” She laughs, followed by a huff as she attempts to blow a strand of hair away from her face. “Paige, there’s shit all over me!”

“You’ll be aight, angel. I’ll pay for your dry cleaning, how ‘bout that?” My hand lets go of one of her hands and naturally finds the hair in her vision and pushes it behind her ear. 

“Angel?”

“I gotta call you something, right?” I ask. 

Without a word, Maraye starts kneading the dough together. Her eyes met mine briefly before darting back down. “You can call me Raye.” Her voice is quiet, shy almost. I’ve never heard her speak to me like that but for whatever reason I find it adorable.

“Yeah, but that’s gonna get confusing with that one over there.” I comment, pointing to my teammate Rae just a few feet away from us. “And I can’t call you what everyone else calls you.” 

I step aside from her, my back flush against the counter and my arms crossed. I reach for the glass of red wine that we had each poured out, grimacing at the taste because I hate wine but if Maraye loves it I might as well pretend.

“Alright. Since you think you’re special.” Maraye rolls her eyes with a tight lip grin. “But keep it cordial, before Kea gets an idea.”

“It’s not an ‘idea’ if you actually like me”

“I’m straight.”

“That septum in your nose says otherwise.”

Then the second those words leave my mouth, there’s more flour across my face. I don’t even have time to register it.

“You didn’t.” I shut my eyes in disbelief.

“Oh I sure did.” Maraye is giggling to herself moving her dirty hands back to the pasta dough in front of her. “Go grab me a towel, please.”

I think I’ve met my match with this one.

“You’re still standing here, and I don’t have a towel.” She jokes, looking up at me with a smirk that damn near mirrored mine. 

“You’re not angelic even in the slightest.” I reply. She juts her lip out at me in triumph and I hop off the counter, reaching for the nearest clean towel and tossing it over to her.

“You two having fun over there?” Rickea yells from across the room. Her hands are muddled together with sticky dough strings. She’s eying me intently, basically telling me telepathically to keep it in my pants.

“Yep!”

“So much fun!”

—

I fumble with my keys as I try to enter my high rise apartment. In my left hand, holds the leftovers of all the pasta we made earlier. A container of fettuccine alfredo and another with shrimp scampi. To my chest I clutch the tupperware of empty banana pudding (Paige literally ate it all and made me give her my number to promise to make her more).

I finally get the door open and push it further with my hip. It’s completely dark, except for a yellow haze that comes through my hallway. Did I leave a light on?

I set everything on the nearest table top, and walk deeper into the home.

That’s when I see it. The candles and flowers on my coffee table, and him. Julian. He’s nervously rubbing his palms on his jeans, but he stands up almost instantly when he sees me.

“Ju, what-what’re you doing here? It’s late, and—”

He cuts me off before I can finish my stammering. “Just listen? Okay? I’m-I’m sorry. I’ve been the biggest asshole about everything, about us. It’s not right. It’s your career, I should respect whatever you have to do to be successful.”

I can feel my hands sweat and my knees buckle.

“I want to be with you. At all costs, I want to support you. And I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.” He pauses and reaches over for the bouquet of roses wrapped in red paper sitting on the table. “So, this probably isn’t the most romantic way to go about it, but can y— can I be your boyfriend?”

He’s rambling, I know he’s nervous, and suddenly I feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet because I just spent the last four hours shamelessly flirting with Paige Bueckers and here Julian was doing the exact thing I’ve been hoping for, for the last three months. 

Except I don’t feel the way I think I should.

I’m not giddy and my stomach isn’t full of butterflies like I thought they’d be. Instead my heart is beating out of my chest so badly that I can hear it. Maybe Paige can hear it however far away she is.

Why on Earth am I thinking about Paige?

“Raye, baby? What d’you say?”

So I nod. My mouth ajar but no words can form on my tongue. I just nod and force a smile to my face as I walk closer to him. He hugs me, arms so tight around my waist that they feel suffocating, but I hug him back. 

“Yeah.” I whisper, trying to wrap my head around what is happening.

[nectardaddy]

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter ten | a crime of passion

masterlist

ignore timestamps

track ten. . . beneath oak trees

spinoff -> serendipity , a soon to be collection of random situations and insanity between kitayn because I'm too in love with them to let them go

cw/notes: hurt/comfort (I'm sorry yall I have no excuses anymore but it works), good but intense feelings, kita is the sappiest man alive™, this is the last chapter before the epilogue :'), dylan gossett is carrying this fic I love his music, IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING!!!, ignore typos if you see them I was so excited

Dusk was quickly approaching, the sound of crickets being the tell tale sign before the sun dared dip below the horizon. The pair finding themselves within the acres of rice, mud and dead crops crunching underneath each step they took. Walking aimlessly, as it seemed like the right thing to do, side by side; contrary to how the man usually walked behind her.

She felt his fingers brush against her own, calloused and warm, as she walked next to him. The sensation making her feel like a little girl again, nervous and jittery, for once in her life not knowing what to do. Anger couldn't take a foothold here, the interaction making her heart swell instead of burn in fury. A fire that subsided long ago, now left with embers and a swirling stomach - he noticed.

He took her hand. Interlocking their fingers together without a word and a crimson driving to his cheeks he hoped the sunset would hide. A boldness in the motion that almost made him nauseous if he thought about it too long, shoving down the nerves to the very pits of his mind. He was terrified.

"You meant it, right?" She blurted out the question amidst the sound of crickets and evening air, almost breathless as she looked over to him in worry. An anxiety washing over her as she thought back to the interaction only an hour ago; realization of how interrogatory she was hitting her in the chest and shoving her down.

"Lovin' you?" Her question made him falter, stopping his steps to look over to her with a small frown pulling at his lips. There was a gentle pull on her hand, not noticing he had stopped and tried to keep going. Halting when there was tension and looking back at him, taking a small breath when she did. There's no way I deserve a man like this. The handsome man with pretty brown eyes. A golden hue from the sun set cascading down him that made him seem almost ethereal, contrasting his dirt ridden appearance. She felt herself fall in love with the man all over again. "I don't think I've ever been so certain about something in my whole life."

Oh my god. She felt her breath leave her lungs at his words, locking eyes with him without a word and letting the statement process. Letting a moment of development rock her to her core and leave her at a lack of words. All she could do was squeeze his hand, grasping it with all she had in her to fight the lump she felt forming in her throat; her other hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Eyes becoming blurry as she broke eye contact with him, looking to the ground with a shaky breath hidden by her palm.

Dammit, why am I crying? I look fuckin' stupid. She didn't mean for this to happen, to be so overwhelmed by emotion it caused a crack. And a crack is what make dams break. Feeling him squeeze her hand back made the dam completely collapse in on itself. Hot tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at the ground, if she looked up she would unravel wholeheartedly.

The man didn't say a word to her disposition, knowing full well if he did her anger would take its place. So he stayed silent - she needed this moment. Silent as he squeezed her hand once more for good measure, silent as he gently pulled her towards him. Not a singular word as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly and promising himself he'd never let go. He couldn't let go if he tried, his heart decided right then and there he didn't care if he lost his job anymore. This was an unmatched feeling he would be chasing for the rest of his days.

"I love you so much." He decided to speak after a brief pause, the evening air filled with her quiet cries. "I realized it when we were in the rain together, but I think I've been in love with you since I met you." Fuck, why would you say that to me?

She grabbed at the fabric of his shirt in desperation, grounding herself as the words made her want to spiral all together. Trying to hide the fact a sob wanted to escape her lips, she furthered herself in his chest and took a deep breath.

"Then why did you avoid me, Shinsuke?" Shakey, murmured words left her throat. The whole interaction left him in awe. "Why did you ignore me even though you love me? Why did you tell me everythin' about me was important to you and run away?" His shoulders slumped and he felt his heart shatter, millions of tiny pieces promoting an onslaught of regret to hit him square in the face.

"Because I'm an idiot," a breathless response, one that was the first thing to come to mind. He sighed. "And I was scared."

"I scare you that much?"

"No." He shook his head and sighed once more, closing his eyes in shame. "I like your righteous anger, it's your dad I was afraid of. 'Thought I'd lose my job."

She loosened her vice like hold on his shirt at his words, his latter statement tying up loose ends of her confusion. Oh, jesus fucking christ, he's serious. There was another pause, crickets chirping louder as the sun began to drift below the horizon - until she laughed. A sad, sorrowful laugh that cut through the tension like a knife. He felt it. Felt her lungs regain air they desperately needed as she took a deep breath, only to laugh again. Lifting her head from his chest to show him tear stained cheeks, a black eye, and a sad grin.

"You are a fuckin' idiot," spoken between giggles that left him confused. Scrunching his brows, dumbfounded, until she opened her eyes to look at him. "My dad knows! He's the one that told me you were in love with me, you moron!" Another laugh, turning into a fit of giggles as she couldn't help herself but to watch his confusion turn to embarrassment.

"What?"

She couldn't contain her amusement, finding herself holding onto him to keep herself upright in fear of toppling over from laughter. "Shinsuke-" she gasped between chuckles, "oh my god y'really are too good for this world! My dad knew the whole time! I told him I loved you and he said he already knew!" More laughter, to which he finally joined in at his own idiocy. Thinking to himself he'd rather laugh than to feel any singular ounce of regret more - this was nice. It was peaceful. Laughing in a field of rice seemed healing almost.

A laughter than died down after a short time, all smiles as she locked eyes with him. "You're so beautiful." A breathless sentence from him with a soft smile, every syllable laced with care and adoration. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world that mattered, because to him she was.

"Even with a black eye?"

"Even with a black eye." He repeated, "how did you even get one this time?" Cautiously bringing a hand to her face, brushing over the skin of her cheek with warm fingertips. Stopping as his thumb traced over the bruised undertones on her cheekbone. He felt as she smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing as her lips pulled upward. Felt as her cheeks increasingly became warmer from his words and his touch. Felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love with her as every second passed.

"A crime of passion." She rolled her eyes before meeting his once more. Absentmindedly leaning into his touch, making him chuckle. "And y'say 'this time' like a bad thing."

"Never," he shook his head. "They always deserve it."

His hand never left her cheek, to him it felt like a crime to pull away. Vowing right then and there to never, ever pull away from her again as long as he lived - he'd rather die than run away from her again. "You're doing an awful good job of suckin' up to me right now."

"Good. That's what I was goin' for."

Another moment of silence striking them, looking to one another with anticipation. A silly feeling swirling in her stomach as she watched brown eyes flicker in between her own. She couldn't help but let out chuckle. "Just kiss me, you idiot."

"Anything for you." Finally closing the gap between them. She melted right into the palm on his hand.

taglist (open for serendipity! ask to be added)

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna @aliensstolemyheart @le000xxgrd @cherrypieyourface @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia

[notiddygothgf]

1. Arrival in Tokyo

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ Captain? Should I be calling you sir? ❞ ❝ Only if you want to. ❞

★ c.w.: aki being sexy a f (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: CHAPTER ONE IS UP AND RUNNINGGGGGG!! im so excited bc ive been sitting on this fanfic all fking summer like when i tell u i havent been able to focus on anything else. i have not known peace. ANYWAY im trying smth new w this story bc it was supposed to be a oneshot but uh... now its at 150 pages on google docs so erm... anyway! updates should flow quixker now that i have 90% of it written!! comment and let me know all of ur thoughts everywhere omg i love reading ur remarks bc u guys r so funny on my other ffs. ENJOY POOKIES! i love yall!!

★ w.c.; 4.3k

shameless ; chapter index

"SO YOU'RE LEAVING ME because the Tokyo division needs backup?" 

"I'm not leaving you," You sighed, though a playful lilt and a smirk followed your sarcastic remark. You and your husband were discussing work-related matters over a sushi dinner – your favorite. Perks of being married to your work partner. "I'm being summoned. I won't be long. Promise."

Your husband frowned, brows knitting together. His brown hair was tied back into a bun, baby hairs licking at his forehead, his cheeks. Tanimoto Yoshiro was a man of many virtues, but patience was not one of them. With a sigh, he began to toy with his salmon roll, prodding it with the end of his wooden chopsticks. "One whole week without that sexy ass of yours... What will I do?"

Your left eye twitched – slightly, hardly noticeable by the naked eye. You, for one, wouldn't miss the sex. It was, for lack of a better word... unfulfilling. It would get better over the years, you were sure of it. The two of you had only had the last few years to practice, after all. You wanted to wait until marriage (With him. You were no virgin by any stretch of the word.).

It was unfair of you to take your sexual frustrations out on him. It had been a tiring week for the both of you, is all. You barely had time for sit down meals like this anymore – whatever hanky-panky the two of you ever did indulge in these days was rushed, messy, and often... short lived.

Anyway, needless to say... You would be fine. It was you and your rabbit toy against the world, anyway.

"You'll be fine," You smiled. You loved him. He loved you. He was a great husband, and he took care of you. You had no reason to complain. "I'll be back before you know it." .

The Japanese countryside was a blur, rushing past the window of your train like pictures, like a movie. You hadn't noticed the train slow to a stop, in fact, until you heard the doors open. Popping your head up over the seat, you observed the train station. Which stop is this? People began filtering in from both sides, eager to find a seat before the train took off.

A shrill cry of your name roused you from your thoughts. 

You whipped your head around. A familiar-looking woman with black hair and an eyepatch was waving you down across the aisle. She was wearing a Public Safety suit and slacks. Himeno.

A smile crawled over your lips before you knew it. "Himeno?" You asked, a teasing lilt in your tone. "Is that you?"

Without asking if anyone else was sitting there, she took a seat in the one across from you. She leaned forward, perching her chin up on her hand. "Never thought I'd see you again. How the hell are 'ya?"

You and Himeno went way back. She had been in the same division as you back when the two of you were teens. She was the first person in Public Safety who had ever actually welcomed you to the division and the last person to say goodbye to you. You parted ways before ever being able to exchange information but, for what it was worth, she had made those gruesome, tedious missions more bearable. 

"I've been good!" You grinned. "I've been in the Kyoto sector with my partner. I truly did plan on coming back, but one thing led to another, and now..." You trailed off, waving your hands around like you were trying to find the right words. "Well, I'm married to him."

The train creaked and groaned before it began to move again. 

"So I've heard," Himeno licked her lips. She sat back in her chair, producing a carton of cigarettes – the kind she always used to smoke when the two of you were on missions together. "You mind if I smoke?"

No, but the conductor might. "Of course not," You answered. "How about you? How have you been?"

She sighed. "Been better, honestly. Devil activity's been crazy recently," Fishing a lighter out of her suit pocket, she sparked up. The end of her cigarette sizzled and smoked between her slim fingers. Holding it up to her lips, she muttered, "Just doing what I can to stay alive. What brings you back to the city?"

"My presence has been requested by the higher-ups," You shrugged. The scent of nicotine and smoke filled the cabin. It was gross but, frankly, familiar. "My husband wasn't too happy that he didn't get invited, so this better be worth it."

"I see," Himeno hummed, breathing out a puff of smoke to the side. She kept on looking out of the window after that, at the train station that was now far behind the train. "You're leaving your partner and I'm returning to mine."

"You're married?" You asked.

"God, no," She chuckled softly, pulling another hit from her cancer stick. "Wouldn't mind being with my assigned partner, though. He's a fine piece of ass."

It seemed like you couldn't help the way you burst into laughter at her crude remark. She hasn't changed one bit. "Is he cute?"

"Cute?" She repeated the word like it was a foreign object in her mouth. Her voice was muffled by the cloud of smoke that flowed out from between her lips. "He's drop-dead gorgeous," She took another slow, calculated hit. "Enough about me, though, how's the married life going for you?"

Could be better. You feigned a warm smile at the mention of your husband. "Good. Yeah, it's good."

Good was a bit of an overstatement. .

You and Himeno spent the rest of the train ride catching up. There was talk about marriage, sex, old coworkers, and new ones. It felt kind of good to be back – to be able to talk to someone who shared the same history as you. You would almost say that you missed it.

By the time the announced its next stop at the Tokyo station, you hadn't even realized how quickly the trip had gone by. You could thank your talkative companion for that. As the train finally eased to a stop, you turned to Himeno with a smile. 

"I need to grab my bags," you said, rising from your seat and straightening your clothes.

Himeno nodded, her smile warm but tinged with a hint of sadness. "Okay. Take care of yourself!"

Navigating the narrow aisle, you headed toward the luggage compartment. As you reached up to grab your suitcase, you collided with someone. Startled, you looked up to find yourself face-to-face with a man who immediately captured your attention. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of both strength and discipline. His dark hair was tied back in a neat topknot, accentuating his sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that held you—their piercing blue depths seemed to look straight through you, filled with a seriousness that made you catch your breath.

"Sorry—" he began, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the narrow space.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. The closeness of his body, the scent of his cologne—clean and subtly spiced, lingering just faintly on the collar of his suit jacket—the intense focus of his gaze; all of it created a bubble of tension that neither of you could ignore. You could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary lapse in his serious demeanor, as if he too had been caught off guard.

Both of you paused. His gaze flickered down to your uniform for just a heartbeat before he quickly looked away, regaining his composure. Without another word, you continued in opposite directions, the silent exchange leaving you... well, a little breathless to say the least.

Stop it. You're a married woman. Surely, you would know how to control your impulses after being away from your husband for only a day.

Reaching up, you pulled your suitcase from the overhead compartment, the weight of it a familiar comfort. Setting it down on the ground with a soft thud, you turned back to your seat, only to find the handsome man still standing there, now engaged in conversation with Himeno. He was so tall that he had to actually lean over a little bit to fit into the cabin.

Fuck me. You thought. Wait, no, don't fuck me.

"Is this your partner, Himeno?" you asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes, I found him!" Himeno responded with a wide grin. "Captain Hayakawa, this is an old friend of mine," she said, going on to introduce you by name.

"Hello," he greeted, extending his hand. The deep, velvety timbre of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Captain? Should I be calling you 'sir'?" you teased lightly, shaking his hand – and his grip was firm and warm.

"Only if you want to," he replied, "Hayakawa is fine."

Only if you want to.

Get your fucking head out of the gutter.

Your heart skipped a beat as you found yourself momentarily lost in his gaze. His eyes were a captivating shade of blue, intense and unwavering. The handshake lingered a moment too long. You could feel the strength and warmth of his hand – it was far larger than yours, and had calluses at the tip of the palm.

Despite his serious demeanor, there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of interest that he seemed determined to keep under control. Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away, feeling the lingering warmth of his touch. 

His gaze remained locked on yours for a moment longer, a silent acknowledgment of whatever the fuck had just happened.

Himeno cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "Well, let me give you a big hug, dearest."

You embraced her fondly, the familiarity of her touch grounding you. 

"Here, give me your number," Himeno said as she pulled back. She flipped her phone open. "Let's keep in touch."

With a smile, you told her your phone number. 

She snapped her phone shut after she had finished typing it in. "Okay! Hopefully, I'll get to see you around."

"Yes, of course! We'll be in touch," You agreed. You bowed your head to her, then to her partner. "Hayakawa."

He nodded back. You dismissed yourself after that, turning on your heel and practically scrambling to get out of that tiny train cabin. Still, you couldn't help but glance back at Captain Hayakawa. His eyes met yours again for a brief, fleeting moment before you turned away, heart racing with something you hadn't felt in a long time.

You didn't want to stick around and find out what it was. The weight of your wedding ring around your finger was a reminder of that much. .

You hadn't been in Public Safety's Tokyo headquarters in years. It was bigger than you remembered it being. The worst part? All the halls looked the exact same. It took you about thirty minutes to find the office in which you were currently standing.

A woman who you'd been dreading seeing the whole way over there was perched on a leather seat in front of you, arms folded over the desk, pink hair braided the same way it always had been, feline eyes flitting over your body. It made you feel small – like prey trapped in a predator's den.

"How was your trip over here?" Makima asked. Her voice was smooth, uniform – calculated, just like everything else she did. 

"It was pleasant," You answered. "I came as soon as I could."

"We appreciate that," Makima said, a hint of something sinister in her smile.

She stepped out from behind her desk, pacing slowly around the room. "I called you here because we've recently suffered a great deal of casualties," she explained, her tone measured and controlled. "I'm worried we won't have the manpower to deal with all the sudden appearances of gun-devil pieces."

"I understand. Am I being formally stationed?" you replied, trying to maintain your composure.

"Not that I know of, no," she responded, her eyes narrowing slightly. "For now, we need backup on a particular mission involving a school in the area. There have been reports of peculiar activity there, and I want to send one of my teams to investigate. I haven't decided whether you'll be in the field or here tying up some loose ends—we recently lost one of our best workers, and we're very far behind as a result. I'll have a certain answer for you within the next few days."

"A few... days?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, not at all, no. I just—" you sighed, feeling the weight of uncertainty. "Yeah, okay, that sounds good."

"You've also been booked a hotel suite nearby. Your stay will be provided at no cost to you," she continued, her tone unwavering. "I'll reach out to you as soon as I have more details. Hang tight until then."

With a tight-lipped smile, you nodded. "Thank you, Miss Makima. Am I dismissed?"

"Yes, I'll have one of our drivers take you to your room so you can drop off your luggage," she said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "Where did you leave it?"

"I left it in the break room," you said.

"Very well. I'll have someone collect it," she replied, her eyes closing briefly as she smiled. "Get home safely."

With that, you turned and left the office, the tension of the encounter still lingering in the back of your mind. There was just something about that damn lady that never failed to send a shiver up your spine. You sighed, glancing down at the old floorboards, at your shoes.

The reality of the situation began to sink in. 

You had traveled all this way, navigating the maze of identical halls and sterile rooms, only to be told you had to wait. The thought gnawed at you— That sounds about right from her, you mused. It was typical of Makima, always keeping you in the dark, always one step ahead, holding the reins tightly.

The cool, clinical atmosphere of the headquarters only heightened your sense of displacement. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh, unforgiving glow, making everything look stark and unwelcoming.

Lost in your thoughts, you heard a series of footsteps echoing down the hall, followed by hushed voices. The sound grew closer, and you recognized the voice immediately—it was the young lieutenant captain again, the man you had bumped into earlier.

You glanced up, and there he was, standing just a few feet away. He was a striking figure, his presence suffocating – commanding and enigmatic. He had a sharp jaw, chiseled and defined, the kind that could cut paper. His eyes, a moody blue, held a penetrating gaze, one that seemed to see right through you, making you feel as though you were laid completely bare before him.

His brow was knit slightly in deep thought. There was a slight furrow at the bridge of his nose. The tufts of inky black hair that framed his features only added to the boyish charm of his face. 

As he spoke to the other Public Safety worker beside him, his hands moved with purposeful grace.

Your eyes were drawn to him despite yourself, unable to escape the force of his presence. 

His gaze caught yours briefly, and in that fleeting moment, you felt an almost tangible tension in the air. It was as if time had stopped for a heartbeat, the corridor seeming to stretch and contract around the two of you.

The connection between your eyes was like a magnet, pulling you in despite your efforts to look away. The faintest flutter in your chest was enough to have you gripping the collar of your shirt.

He blinked first, his eyes breaking away from yours as he turned back to his companion. The conversation resumed, but the air seemed thicker now, charged with the residual energy of your brief encounter. 

"We need to re-evaluate our strategies for dealing with the increased devil activity," he said, his words carefully chosen. "The losses have been significant, and our resources are stretched thin."

You turned and walked in the opposite direction, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seeming to amplify the distance you were putting between yourself and him.

As you moved down the corridor, you couldn't shake the feeling that his eyes were still on you, as if the weight of his gaze lingered even after you had turned away.  .

You had just stepped out of the shower, the steam still clinging to the room and curling around the bathroom mirror in hazy swirls. The cool, clean air of the hotel suite met you as you emerged, a refreshing contrast to the stifling atmosphere of the Public Safety headquarters.

You took a moment to let the chill of the air sink into your skin, feeling the pleasant coolness against your damp hair and freshly washed face. You dried yourself off, the soft towel enveloping you in its warmth, and slipped into a comfortable set of loungewear—simple, dark gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting, white t-shirt.

You walked over to the full-sized bed, the crisp white sheets and plush pillows arranged neatly. You flopped down onto it, letting out a relieved sigh as you sank into the softness of the mattress.

Reaching for your phone from the nightstand, you dialed your husband's number. As the call connected, you propped yourself up on one elbow and stared at the ceiling, trying to shake off the exhaustion of the day.

When he answered, his voice was calmingly familiar, cutting through the distance between you with a comforting ease. "Hey. How's everything going?"

"It's been a day," you said with a soft chuckle. "I finally got here, but of course, they've got me waiting for more details. Typical."

"Sounds about right," he said, his voice tinged with a longing that you could almost touch through the phone, "I miss you."

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to push away the brief flash of memories that drifted through your mind—blue eyes and raven hair, a fleeting image that made your heart skip a beat. An image of soft lips wrapped around the syllables, 'Only if you want to.'

You shook your head gently, trying to dispel the image from your thoughts. "I miss you too," you said, trying to keep your tone light and steady.

You heard the faint sound of his smile through the phone, a soft, reassuring sound. You had never been so happy to hear his voice. "How's the hotel?"

"It's nice," you said, shifting your position on the bed to get more comfortable. "Pretty standard, but it's got a good view of the city."

"I can think of one view I'd really like to see right now," he teased gently. 

Just as you were about to reply, your phone started ringing again. You glanced at the screen and saw the name of your old coworker. 

"Hold on, I'm getting a call," you said, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

"Ugh, okay," he said. "Bye."

"Bye," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips as you ended the call.

You took a deep breath before picking up. "Hello?"

"Heya, Hot stuff. What you up to?" Himeno drawled into the receiver.

"Just got out the shower," You answered. "Why? Is something up?"

"Nah. Well, yeah," She giggled. "Miss Makima's taking us out for drinks to celebrate the success of our last mission tomorrow. She rented out this whole space for us. You coming?"

You chuckled quietly, carding a hand through your damp hair. "I always feel dull at parties."

"You? Dull?" Came Himeno's retort. "This really the same person who used to take body shots off complete strangers back in the day?"

The mere mention of your past self had you laughing all over again. "Times change."

"Married life made you soft?" 

You winced. Sure, perhaps a somewhat-boring life in the countryside with your husband had made you a little soft. But there was something in the way she said it – something that made you tick. You were happy being a married woman. You had been happy since the two of you had eloped at 21.

You were happy, dammit. You just wished it was a little easier to convince yourself of that.

"I don't know..." You trailed off. "I won't be any fun."

"Noooooo... You have to come!" Himeno groaned. You could hear her pacing around in the background. "DENJI!" She called to god knows who. "Back me up here!"

The phone was handed over to someone else – a young-sounding boy. "I'm not gonna force someone to go to a stupid party."

"Tell her to come!" Could be heard very faintly in the background.

"Wait. She's a 'she'?"

"Not just any 'she', thats–"

"You should definitely come tonight," The boy decided. "Name's Denji, by the way."

"Hi, Denji," You sighed. "Could you hand the phone back to Himeno for just a moment?"

"Sure," He answered. "Bye, gorgeous. See you there."

Gorgeous. He hasn't even seen me and he's calling me gorgeous. You had to have been in the twilight zone.

"So, you're coming, right?" Himeno's voice chirped over the line.

"I don't know," You answered (again). "Who's going?"

"Aki's coming. Remember him? Partner? Total hottie?" She replied. 

Total hottie was an understatement. Again, the image of his pretty face flashed through your mind. You squashed the mere thought of it – like an incessant bug. "Yes, we met."

"I'm gonna get a smooch out of him by the end of the night," She giggled. "You can bet on that."

People came and went. Seasons changed. Himeno, however, did not. She was just as crude as you had always remembered her being.

"Just a kiss?" You teased.

"Maybe. Maybe more," She teased right back. "Can you believe he doesn't have a girlfriend? He's 20! That's gotta mean something."

He's five years younger than me... You picked mindlessly at your nails. "Something like...?"

"Dunno. Am I wrong for thinking he's holding out for me?" 

"Oh, to be young and naive again," You sighed. "I was engaged at his age," You trailed off, words hanging in the air for a moment after they had slipped past your lips.

Awkward. Did that slip out?

You leaned back against the headboard, feeling the cool pillows against your back while your mind drifted to the past. You had been so young when you'd gotten married, looking back. You loved him, you truly did. Sure, you had your issues, but didn't every married couple?

The two of you were happy. Still, a pang of jealousy surfaced when you heard Himeno speak so freely about her independence, her sexual prowess. In a way, you felt as though you had been deprived of that freedom far too early.

Your fingers traced the edge of your phone, your gaze drifting as memories flooded your mind. Himeno's laughter on the other end of the line seemed distant, a reminder of a simpler time, unburdened by the weight of responsibilities and commitments.

You were happy... weren't you?

"Hey, you still there?" Himeno's voice pulled you back to the present, her tone tinged with concern.

"Yeah, sorry," you replied, shaking off the melancholy that had crept into your thoughts. "Just got lost in my head for a moment."

"Don't we all," she sighed, her voice softening. "Look, just come down tomorrow. It'll be fun. We can catch up, have a few drinks, and maybe you can even be my wingman for the night."

You chuckled, the sound more genuine this time. "Alright, fine. I'll come. But no promises about playing matchmaker."

"Yay! It's at five," Himeno's excitement was palpable, and it was contagious. "I'll see you then. Hopefully, you can loosen up a little bit. Relive the good days."

"Yeah, maybe," you said, a small, half-assed smile playing on your lips. "See you then."

You ended the call and set your phone to the side. 

Loosen up a little, You thought. Yeah, you could definitely stand to do that.

a/n: shortie but a goodie! i already have most of the story written (so this one doesnt wind up like my 25,000 other unfinished projects), and this was the only way i could think to cut this chapter off hehe. ANYWAYYYY i hope yall enjoyed and are prepared for the TENSION AND SPICEEEE. omg its so tasty i cant wait. stay tuned! its gonna be so amazing. please comment and whatever to let me know your thoughts, wants and desires for this story! or just smth fun. i love reading yalls comments hehe comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found it on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

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wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[stevie-petey]

episode three: the pollywog

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?” A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why. “I pay attention,” you dodge.

Summary: you lecture jonathan about daddy issues and then have an intellectual debate about healthy relationships, you play Mr. Love Dr with Steve, nancy and jonathan go on a sick side quest (and actually inform you this time !), meanwhile: you're about to put a leash on your damn brother.

Rating: general, some curing

Warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, cursing, slight reference to billy being mean and trauma

Words: 6.7k

Before you swing in: hello ! my first day of spring semester is tomorrow, so here's a quick lil chapter for yall :) i wont have a lot of time to update as frequently anymore, but i promise i will continue to update as much as i can <3 in the meantime, enjoy this chapter n have a lovely day my dears !!

-

Like most mornings, you’re up and ready before Dustin has even woken up.

“Dustin! C’mon, wake up! Jonathan will be here soon and–” You try to open your brother’s door, but it’s locked. “What the–? Dustin! Hello?”

You begin pounding on his door, trying and failing to get in, and right as you’re about to break the door down, your mom comes in from the kitchen. “Y/N, Dusty has already left.”

“Left? Like, he went to school already?” No way in hell that kid has just decided to get up and ready for school any earlier than he needed to. That kid could sleep thirty hours if given the chance.

“Yup! He left pretty early this morning, said he had a test to study for.” Your mom says as she wanders back towards the kitchen to make her usual cup of coffee.

“Huh,” you’re starting to worry that maybe Dustin is hiding something. First he blocked the door from you last night, now he’s supposedly leaving early for some test? He’s hiding something, you know he is. What worries you, though, is that Dustin hasn’t felt the need to hide anything from you since the whole El fiasco.

Which hadn’t ended well.

As you’re lost in thought, mentally going through Dustin’s actions these last few days, Jonathan walks through your front door, keys in hand.

“Hey, bug. Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head to clear any more thoughts. You’ll interrogate Dustin later. “Let me grab my bag, one sec.”

Jonathan nods before he’s attacked by your mom, who pulls him into a hug squeals. “Jonathan!”

“You saw me last night, Mrs. Henderson.” He pats her back awkwardly, mouthing “help me” towards you, but you only laugh and grab your bag from your room.

As soon as you have your stuff, you and Jonathan head out. You sneak some glances at him while he drives, memories from last night crashing back. The party… Well, who could’ve seen any of that coming? Considering how shitty the night turned out, Jonathan looks better at least. However, the bruises on his knuckles make you frown.

“I’m sorry about Billy,” you say, grabbing the bruised hand. His skin is rough against yours, but familiar all the same.

Jonathan gives you an incredulous look. “You’re sorry?”

“Yes…?”

“Bug, no. We aren’t doing this.” He shakes his head, pulling his hand away to run it through his hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Billy was being a piece of shit, you needed my help, so I did what any sane person would do.”

You’re silent, not used to having such aggression from Jonathan aimed at you. He’s not necessarily mad at you, but you and him have had some issues in the past about stuff like this. You’ve always apologized for other people’s actions, as if you getting hurt is somehow always your fault. He hates that you do it.

You hate that you always do it. But you can’t help it, it’s almost second nature at this point.

Jonathan, reading your mind, sighs. His anger dissipates and he grabs your hand now, kissing your knuckles softly. “I’m sorry for yelling. I just… You mean the world to me, Y/N. I love you, I will always be there for you. I’d punch Billy a million more times if I needed to, without you ever having to ask me.”

“I know, but–”

“If you feel guilty I will pull this car over and shake your pretty little head until I finally knock some sense into it.”

Finally, you laugh. “Now that’s just dramatic.”

“Do I need to pull over?”

“No,” you raise your hands up in surrender. “I’ll shut up now.”

Jonathan nods his head. “Good, just the way I like it.”

You smack his chest, and he fake screams in pain. He makes a show of it, hunching himself over while he drives and clutches at his chest, which you giggle at. He’s laughing as well, and it’s one of your “normal” moments that have become so few and far between. Just you and Jonathan, giggling in his car early in the morning as you drive to school, your laughter is just enough to keep the two of you warm.

Jonathan’s ladybug ring catches the morning light and the bee wrapped around your neck buzzes against your skin.

But “normal” never lasts long anymore, and you remember Nancy’s drunken eyes from last night and Steve’s loneliness in his voice when he asked you why everyone keeps leaving him. The memories cause your giggles to fade off, the small moment of joy now gone.

Jonathan sees your mood change and, because he’s always on the same page as you, purses his lips. “So… It’s now tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, remembering telling him last you’d talk about Steve and Nancy tomorrow. “It’s now tomorrow.”

“Why’d you insist on driving Steve home?”

The question is innocent enough, but you sense that how you answer it could change things. “He was upset.”

“Sure, but you almost bit my head off when I last asked about that guy. Then you wanted to drive him home?” Jonathan keeps his eyes on the road ahead of him, though he clenches his jaw ever so slightly. But you see it. You always see it.

“Bee… I had to, okay? Please, can we just leave it at that?” You don’t want to talk about your fucking feelings with the first boy you’ve ever loved, the boy who doesn’t love you back.

Jonathan swallows, takes another deep breath, and then nods. “I took Nancy home, like Steve asked. She was… Very drunk. Had to carry her into bed.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

“You didn’t shove alcohol down her throat.”

“No, but I did encourage her to go to that stupid party while she was fighting with Steve.”

“Steve and Nancy have been fighting?”

Shit. You forgot that Jonathan didn’t know.

“Okay, yes” you say, but right as Jonathan’s eyes light up, you’re quick to backtrack. “But if I tell you anything else, you have to swear to keep it between us. Got it?”

“I won’t say a word.”

You sigh, really hoping you aren’t breaking Nancy’s trust. Technically, she hadn’t asked you to keep your conversation from yesterday private, but… It feels wrong telling Jonathan about it. “Nancy and Steve have been fighting, yes, but not in the way you’d think.”

You’ve arrived at school, so Jonathan quickly parks the car before motioning for you to keep talking. “Go on, I’m curious now.”

“God, you’re a worse gossip than I am. Anyways, she’s mad at Steve for brushing off Barb’s death, in a sense. But also, like… Steve isn’t really brushing off Barb’s death? I think he just wants to help Nancy, those are his intentions, but he doesn’t know how. He thinks dinner dates, going to parties, and spending a lot of time together will get her mind off of things.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Well, babying Nancy won’t help.”

“I know, and you’re right, but Nancy should have expressed this to Steve better, don’t you think? I mean, we don’t know what happened last night, but it seems like she tried drinking away her anger towards him rather than actually talking to him.”

“And how can we know Steve wouldn’t just run away or something? Actually be up for it, be proactive rather than retroactive. It seems like Nancy needs to do something about Barb’s death.”

Frustration builds within you. “And what good does assuming something actually do? Assuming that Steve wouldn’t listen is wholly unfair and honestly, a bit rude. He’s her boyfriend, she can’t just assume he wouldn’t care. Steve has done everything he can to show he cares, that he loves her, so I think Nancy should be the one to voice her feelings and let him know what she needs. What she wants.”

Jonathan looks away. “And what should Nancy want, bug?”

You’re silent.

Somehow, you and Jonathan aren’t fighting about Steve and Nancy anymore.

“I… I don’t know.” You look out the window, watching as students pass by.

After a tense silence, Jonathan tries to crack a joke. “Oh, you’ll laugh at this! Caught Bob sneaking out the house like some shameful teenage boy this morning.”

You turn towards him now. “Why would I laugh at that? I think it’s sweet, your mom seems happy.”

“Sure, but…” Jonathan’s smile falters, not expecting you to be so stoic as a reaction. “He’s kinda a loser, you gotta admit.”

“Jonathan Byers, I literally had to save you from bullies, five times my size, as a girl, when we were twelve.”

“Okay, I didn’t mean it like that–”

“You should be nicer about Bob. He’s a good guy, he actually cares about you, Will, and your mom. After the hell you guys went through with Lonnie, you should be appreciative of Bob.” You’re so angry now, your fists shake with rage. “You have a healthy father figure in your life now, which I would kill to give Dustin, and even if you don’t like him, you’re luckier for it.”

Jonathan is quiet. He’s staring down at his steering wheel in shame, and you feel bad for snapping so suddenly. You aren’t sorry for your anger towards him, his attitude towards Bob has been bothering you for a while. However, it doesn’t mean you have to be a bitch about it just because of your own issues surrounding shitty dads.

“I’m sorry, bee. You have a right to feel uncomfortable about the change, but I just think you should give Bob a chance. I like the guy.” You offer, looking over at your friend tentatively.

“No, you’re right. I know you are, it just takes some getting used to, I guess.” He grabs your hand, gives it a squeeze as if to tell you it’s all good now, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Great drive to school today,” you quip.

Jonathan laughs. “God, I think I had about five heart attacks during those conversations.”

The tension leaves the car. Then, slowly, the warmth creeps back in as you and Jonathan once again start laughing. You’re not sure why you’re even laughing, but you’re happy that you are.

–

Jonathan walks you to your locker, as he always does, and before he turns to head to his, you notice how quiet it is in the hallway. You look over at Nancy’s locker, which somehow always manages to be near yours every year, and frown when you don’t see her.

“There’s a suspicious lack of Nancy and Steve making out against her locker this morning.” You tell Jonathan.

He looks around and notices you’re right. The two of you share a concerned glance, knowing that their absence can’t mean anything good for the couple.

“Should we go look for them?” He asks, but you’re already heading towards the parking lot to find Steve. “Y/N!”

“Go find Nancy!” You call behind you, speeding up. “I’ll meet you at first period!”

Steve’s car is hard to miss in the parking lot. Hawkins isn’t necessarily a flashy town. No one else besides the Harringtons owns a fancy BMW. You approach the car and spot Steve sitting in the front, his head ducked down as if no one can see his massive red car and easily identify him.

Idiot.

Steve is having a rough week, so he’s spent the last five minutes in his car debating on whether or not he can afford to skip his first class. Reasonably speaking, his dad would kill him. He already has shit grades and he’s missed three college application deadlines. All he has left is Tech. However, his girlfriend told him last night she doesn’t love him and Billy embarrassed him in front of everyone last night.

Plus Nancy left with Jonathan, which everyone saw.

He told him to take her, but still.

Pretty embarrassing.

Yup. Alright. He’s going home.

Steve reaches over for his keys to turn the car on, but before he can, a knock on his window stops him. He looks up, scared Billy will be there, but instead he sees you and he’s not sure if his day just got better or worse.

“Let me in, dingus.” Your voice is light, but still stern, and yeah. Steve’s day just got better.

He unlocks the door and you silently get into the passenger seat. As you get settled in, he thinks about the first time he ever had you in his car. It feels like a lifetime ago, Steve’s heart had been beating wildly taking the risk of offering you a ride.

It had been the start of something, he could feel it.

But then you left him that summer without another word, as if nothing had happened between the two of you. As if Steve hadn’t slowly come to find himself opening up to someone, trusting that you’d let him be whoever he wanted; he could just be Steve around you, not King Steve or even perfect boyfriend Steve.

Now Steve’s hiding out in his car, no longer King Steve or even good fucking boyfriend Steve, and instead of his girlfriend seeking him out to comfort him, it’s you. Because of course it’s you.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hi.”

“You know that senior study hall is inside the school, right?”

Steve looks over at you, not necessarily amused, but flattered nonetheless. “You know my class schedule?”

A blush spreads across your face as you look away from him, but Steve still sees it and something flutters in his chest. He’s always thought you were pretty when you blushed, but you’re even prettier when he’s the reason why.

“I pay attention,” you dodge.

Steve wants to tease you some more, play into the banter he missed the most when the two of you weren’t talking, but his heart isn’t in it. Nancy’s words kept him up all night. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could hear was her telling him that she didn’t love him. After he did everything he possibly could’ve done right, it still hadn’t been enough.

“Did Nancy get home okay?”

You give him a small smile. “Yeah, I just talked to Jonathan about it.”

Relief floods through Steve. At least that’s one thing he hadn’t fucked up last night. “Good… I’m glad then.”

He awkwardly clears his throat and looks away again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. He feels lost, floating through his morning. Nothing has felt real since yesterday in the library with Nancy, when she had been looking up at him with those eyes he’s always been weak for.

“Any particular reason you’re hiding out in your car?”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “You were there last night. You know what happened.”

“Actually, I don’t.” You see the disbelief on Steve’s face and quickly correct yourself. “I mean, I remember you saying something about Nancy but… I don’t want to assume, so…”

Now you’re the one looking away in shame, and Steve watches as you nervously fiddle with your fingers and bite your lip. You’re trying. Though Steve still isn’t sure how to feel about you, how much to test this new compromise between you two, this “friendship”, Steve knows he has to at least try as well.

He takes a deep breath. “Nancy… She isn’t in love with me.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Steve, I mean, are you sure–”

“Pretty fucking sure, Y/N. Unless you think someone telling their boyfriend ‘like we’re in love’ means she’s madly in love with him.”

Another beat of silence passes. Steve can see the pity in your eyes, and he hates it. He fucking hates this, feeling so pathetic and small.

Then, your hand slowly intertwines with his and the anger in Steve’s chest lessens a bit. “I know my words don’t mean anything, but… Nancy not being in love with you has nothing to do with you as a person.”

Something untangles in Steve’s chest; you’ve reassured him of something he hadn’t even known had been his fear. How do you always seem to decipher what he’s feeling before he can?

“How do you know?” Steve has never felt so small before.

You shrug, but there’s a calculated nonchalance to it that he can easily see. “Because I know you. You’re frustratingly charming, Harrington.”

Steve laughs, something he didn’t even know he was able to do anymore. “That’s your takeaway here?”

“Mhm,” you squeeze his hand and Steve has never felt this grounded before by such a small action. “I say you need to talk to Nancy, I mean really talk to her. No more half truths and appeasements. I think she does love you, in her own way, but the circumstances aren’t on your guys’ side. I mean, she went through hell and back last year, Barb’s death anniversary is soon.”

You pause for a moment and frown, which Steve has come to learn means you’re carefully choosing which words to say next. “I want you to know, no, I need you to know, that this has nothing to do with you. Okay?”

Steve wants to believe you, god he really wants to, but even he can see the blaring irony of you telling him that Nancy’s lack of love for him has nothing to do with him personally. You, the girl he came to trust more than anyone else in this awful town, ditched him in the same manner. Steve’s the common denominator there. He’s always the one left behind.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re saying, but the words don’t mean a whole lot coming from you right now,” Steve tells you, and he hates the way your eyes darken, as if guarding yourself from him. “I know we agreed on being friends again, but I just… I need some time.”

You nod, as if you expected something like that from Steve, and he almost wants to just drive away with you in the car and pretend that nothing else exists. Instead, he clears his throat, his tongue feels heavy and his throat threatens to close up, but he forces himself to get the words out. “I want to be alone, please.”

He really doesn’t want to be alone, but his brain is swimming in confusion and you’re still holding his hand and Steve just needs a moment to himself to just breathe.

“Of course,” you tell him, because of course you listen and understand. “You know where to find me, yeah?”

Steve nods. He does.

“Bye, Y/N.”

You give him a small wave in response, close the car door, and then make your way back to the high school.

Steve watches you fade into the distance.

He’s alone again.

–

Jonathan makes it to first period with only seconds to spare. He throws himself into his seat next to you with panting breaths. Your history teacher, Mrs. Kent, drones through attendance without having noticed anything.

“I couldn’t find Nancy.” Jonathan whispers, before his name is called and he quickly raises his hand and says, “Here.”

You glance at the chalkboard and then flip your textbook to the page scrawled on it. “I found Steve wallowing in his car, alone. Guess he didn’t drive Nancy to school?”

“Seems a bit harsh.”

“May I remind you of the time you threw a jacket at my face and then screamed at me that we aren’t family? All because you felt guilty about taking naked photos of Nancy?”

Jonathan drops his head onto the desk, letting out a groan. “I’m never living that down, am I?”

You keep your eyes on the board, taking a few notes. “Nope.”

Class starts up now, so the topic is left alone. The school day passes on, you and Jonathan separating for your own classes after history is done. The day drags on for a while, though you hear a few whispers in the hall about how Jonathan had taken home a drunk Nancy.

“God, it’s like she loves the attention.” One girl giggles with her friend while you’re at your locker.

Her friend rolls her eyes. “Please, as if anyone would choose Byers over Steve Harrington.”

“I’m more of a Wheeler fan myself,” you tell the girls, not even sparing them a glance. “Now, why don’t we all just shut up and move away from my locker?”

The girls scurry away, fear in their eyes, and you simply shake your head at them. Why is Nancy always the one those girls gossip about? Objectively speaking, Steve has done much more heinous things than getting a ride home from a friend while drunk.

Jonathan kisses your cheek as he walks up from behind you, breaking you from your thoughts. “Hey, bug. Lunch at my car today?”

“Ugh, it’s such a nice day today, I’d love to.” You grab your lunch from your locker. Once you have it, you link your arm through Jonathan’s. “Guide the way, good sir.”

“Yes ma’am.”

–

Nancy is leaning against Jonathan’s car when you walk outside.

Her shoulders are slouched and you can see the unease on her face. She looks tired, too. A few people walk by her and stare, whispering as they go, and you really hate high schoolers sometimes.

When you make it to Jonathan’s car, Nancy holds her lunch bag up awkwardly. “Can I join you guys?”

“I’m sure we can make some room.” You tell her, which she smiles at.

It takes some adjusting, but eventually the three of you manage to fit on the front of the car. You sit on the roof, your legs dangling off of the side, while Nancy and Jonathan take the front. The early November sun beats down on you three, but the cool breeze makes the sting less painful. It’s a lovely day, all things considered.

You’re nibbling on your sandwich when Nancy exhales deeply and turns to you. “Y/N, you’d always tell me the truth, right?”

“Depends,” you take another bite out of your food. “What is this in reference to?”

“Last night… I don’t remember what I did.”

There’s a certain shame in her eyes that tells you she encountered Steve before retreating to Jonathan’s car. “You spoke to Steve this morning, I take it?”

She looks at you, surprised. “How did you–”

“We talked to him last night.” Jonathan cuts her off, looking between you and Nancy nervously. He’s not sure where you, her, and Steve all fall in regards to each other.

“So, he asked you to take me home?” Nancy faces him now, and you go back to eating.

“Yeah. Yeah, I mean he was upset…” He glances at you briefly before looking back at Nancy. “I mean, he was really upset.”

“I don’t blame him.” You cut in, mouth full of chips you stole from Jonathan.

He sends you glare and keeps talking. “But he was still worried about you, Nance.”

Nancy drops her head down and a part of you feels bad for the quip. She really does look ashamed, but you distinctly remember warning her about this exact thing last year in the school’s shed. She had tried telling you there wasn’t anything between her and Jonathan, and all you could tell her was that Steve didn’t deserve to be lied to or cheated on.

Guess she only kept one end of that bargain.

Jonathan sees that she’s upset and he softens his voice, scooting closer to her. “Hey, you need to cut yourself some slack, okay? People say stupid things when they’re wasted. Things they don’t mean.”

You bite your tongue. Hard. If you allow yourself to speak, you won’t be able to guarantee it’ll be anything nice. Sure, being drunk can influence some words to slip out, but cruelly telling your boyfriend of over a year that you don’t love him is something you can’t defend. Not when Nancy had other chances to tell Steve.

Nancy whips her head up. “Yeah, but that’s the thing. What if I did mean it? All this time, I’ve been trying so hard to pretend like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”

You and Jonathan share a look. He seems more curious, you can feel the anger burning through your eyes.

“No offense, Nance.” You wipe your hands on a napkin and force the girl to look at you. “But this is really something that you should be talking to Steve about. Remember our conversation from last year?”

Nancy looks down again in shame. “You’re right, I know you are, but… I don’t know. I feel like there’s this…” She pauses, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts, but Jonathan finishes for her.

“Like there’s this weight you’re carrying around with you. All the time. I feel it, too.” He says, then he flicks your leg. “Y/N does as well. She tries to hide it, but I know she feels it as much as I do.”

Now it’s you who turns away, embarrassed and ashamed. Clearly you haven’t been so good at hiding your neverending guilt over Will.

“Yeah, but it’s different for you guys. Will came home.” Nancy says.

You open your mouth to speak, to correct the girl’s horrible viewpoint, but Jonathan surprises you by correcting her himself. “Yeah, he did. But he’s not the same. I try to be there for him, you know, to help him, but… I don’t know.”

“Dustin still has nightmares.” You admit, which Jonathan hadn’t known.

“I thought those went away, bug.”

You shake your head at him. “No… If anything, they’ve only gotten worse. Some nights he sleeps in my bed, says I calm him down, but I just… I feel horrible, knowing I left them alone that night at the middle school. The things he saw… god.”

Nancy and Jonathan sigh, understanding how painful the weight of guilt can feel.

A silence follows your confession.

Then, because you hate when there’s silence, you try to go back to the previous topic. “Anyways, Nancy, what we’re trying to say is that we understand. And I’m sure Steve will, too. He was also there that night, at Jonathan’s. You should talk to him, explain the weight within you. Steve, he…”

You find yourself pausing, unsure if what you’re about to tell Nancy is something Steve would want you to keep between you two, but he misses her. He loves her, so you try to fix whatever you can between them. “He thinks he did something wrong, that he’s unlovable. It isn’t fair to make someone feel that way.”

Nancy sighs. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know, but now that you do, you should probably do something about it. You guys can still go back to how things were.”

Jonathan frowns. “What if things can’t go back to the way they were? I mean, Will still thinks he’s in the Upside Down sometimes. I’ve seen the way Dustin gets scared when he hears a loud noise.”

A phantom pain shoots through your ankle. It’s long since healed, but sometimes memories from last year still sting. As you’re absentmindedly rubbing at it, Nancy notices and starts to get upset.

“Doesn’t that make you mad?”

“Mad?” You and Jonathan ask at the same time.

Nancy seems to almost come back to life, her anger now bringing energy back into her. “Yeah, that those… Those people who did this, who ruined so many lives, they just get away with it.”

“The people responsible for this, they’re dead.” Jonathan gently reminds her.

Nancy leans in close, bitterness in her voice as she narrows her eyes. “Do you really believe that?”

Jonathan frowns again and you do the same. If you’re being honest, you were also pretty skeptical about the whole evil scientists at Hawkin’s Lab all dying. Seemed like a pretty convenient thing to happen. But what else are you supposed to believe?

Nancy looks between you and Jonathan and sighs again. You know she’s upset by your unwillingness to look further, to question everything, but then you watch as her eyes drift towards some kid with his headphones and his walkman. Something shifts in her gaze and you know immediately that she’s thought of something.

You scoot closer in a hurry. “Nancy, whatever it is–”

“Your mom’s boyfriend,” she looks over at Jonathan. “He works at RadioShack, right?”

“Yeah… Why?” Jonathan looks over at you as if you have any possible explanation, and you just shrug at him. “What are you thinking?”

“Do you wanna skip fourth period?”

Immediately you hop down from the car. “No. Nope. Not happening. We aren’t doing this again.”

Nancy groans at you. “Y/N, I haven’t even explained my plan to you yet.”

“Okay, go on. Explain it, so I can then say no.”

Nancy does as she’s told, and it’s a fucking brilliant plan. You know it’ll work, and that’s why you can’t do it. Buying a tape recorder, planting a fake meetup with Barb’s mom to con the Hawkin’s Lab people into taking them in, and then recording whatever they confess to take it to the detective Barb’s parents hired.

It’s a genius plan, but you can’t leave the kids behind for that long.

“I can’t go.”

Jonathan looks disappointed. “Bug, don’t you want to make those assholes pay?”

“I do,” you reassure him. “But I can’t afford to leave the kids behind for two whole days. I mean, last time I did they opened a portal to another dimension. And Dustin has been acting weird lately, and Will’s been having those episodes more and more and I just… What if it’s happening again?”

Your voice shakes a bit with fear, and Jonathan pulls you into him. “We don’t know that.”

“But what if it is? Who would be there for them? We can’t just leave them to suffer the consequences alone while we’re trying to avenge them.”

While you’re still wrapped in Jonathan’s arms, Nancy rests her own hand against your shoulder. “I would feel better knowing the kids are in good hands. You’ve always been their biggest advocate.”

You thank the girl, but Jonathan still seems unsure about leaving you behind. “What about you? Who’s gonna be there for you if something happens?”

There, hidden underneath his words, you know he’s really asking how can I protect you if you aren’t within arm’s reach?

You bury your face into his chest, and Nancy seems to get the message and looks away. When you have some privacy, you look up at Jonathan. “I’ll be okay, bee. I promise. We can call every day you’re away, nothing will go uncommunicated this time. No secrets. You’ll be home in no time and I’ll be right here, safe and sound.”

He kisses your head. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

“I should be telling you that.”

“Y/N…” he isn’t laughing, and you can hear how fast his heart is pounding. He’s terrified to leave you behind, but you know that this is what you have to do.

“I love you, and I’ll be right here. Come home to me, alright?”

“I will.” He promises, and you look into his eyes and see all the warmth and sincerity that you’ve come to love so much, and you believe him.

After a few moments, you finally pull away from him. You clear your throat and turn towards Nancy. “Okay, now that we’ve got that settled, I’m assuming I’m covering for y’all?”

She nods. “If you wouldn’t mind, can I tell my mom I’m at your place?”

“Duh, and Jonathan,” you flick his forehead, breaking the remaining tension away. “I’ll tell your mom you’ll be at my place as well. Sound good?”

He nods as well, though his eyes linger on you longer than they should.

“Well!” You clap your hands and stand between Nancy and Jonathan. “Great team meeting, gang. Let’s reconvene in two day’s time.”

Nancy laughs and pulls you into her own hug.

“I’ll keep him safe,” she whispers into your ear, and you exhale shakily. The weight of everything has finally settled in. You can’t believe you’re doing this. A part of you feels like you’ve just solidified something horrible, not agreeing to come along, but the other part of you, maybe even the larger part, is secretly relieved.

You’re not sure what to make of it.

“Thank you.” You whisper back, squeezing her tightly.

When you break apart, you pull Jonathan into yet another hug. “Stay safe, bee.”

“I will.”

“Good,” you pull away and give the two teens a thumbs up. “Break a leg, go expose some weird government agency!”

–

True to your word, you cover for Jonathan and Nancy the rest of the day. Teachers ask where they are and you simply tell them they both had a family emergency. Thankfully, due to living in such a small and rundown town, they don’t question it.

After school, you head over across the street to the middle school to go pick up Will and Dustin. Since Jonathan drove you to school and took his car with Nancy, you’ll have to hitch a ride on your brother’s bike pegs to work.

When you reach the school you walk towards the bike rack, expecting to see the boys all standing there about to leave, but you stop when you realize that they aren’t.

Huh. Odd.

You wander around. It’s been years since you’ve been inside the middle school, and the hallways are filled with memories. You walk towards the AV room, figuring they’re probably there to discuss whatever new project they’re working on. As you round the corner, you hear pounding and a girl’s voice demanding to be let in.

Speeding up, you spot Max with her angry fists. “Guys! What’s going on? C’mon!”

You watch for a moment, curious as to who this girl is. Dustin spoke highly of her, yet her brother is the worst person you’ve met in your life. She has an anger in her, that much is obvious, but then she grabs something from her bag and begins to pick at the lock.

Hm, she’s smart.

“Need some help?” You ask her.

She looks up at you and frowns. “And who are you?”

“Y/N Henderson. Unfortunately, the idiot that I’m assuming is locked inside the room is my brother.”

“You know how to pick a lock?” Max asks, eyeing you up and down.

Shrugging, you say, “can’t be too hard.”

Max seems to accept that as an answer and slides over, making room for you to crouch down next to her. You help her jimmy the paperclip into the door. Then, you hear some muffled yelling from the other side. What the fuck has your brother gotten up to this time?

“I’m gonna put a leash on that kid,” you mumble, and Max laughs.

“Do they do this a lot?”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face. “Yeah. They’re weird, honestly–”

The lock clicks, the door flings open, and suddenly a tiny, slimy creature comes scampering out the room. You hear the boys curse and before you can get up and out of their way, they come crashing into you and Max on the ground.

“Shit!” Dustin knees your forearm and you groan.

“Y/N!” His eyes widen when he sees you. He’s been caught.

Max gets up. “What was that?”

Lucas ignores her. “He’s getting away!”

“Who is getting away?” You’re finally up as well, watching as the boys start to scramble around in a panic.

Mike, seemingly unsurprised by your sudden appearance, turns to you. “Dart!” Then, in annoyance, he turns towards Max. “You let him escape!”

“What the fuck is a Dart?” You’re freaking out now. Lucas, hearing your confusion, can only shrug his shoulders at you.

Then, Dustin angrily advances towards Mike and starts yelling in his face. “Why did you attack him?”

Mike doesn’t say a word, he just starts to run down the hall. Dustin, even more in a panic, screams at him, “Don’t hurt him! Don’t you hurt him!”

You grab at your brother’s jacket and fling him back, now incredibly fucking angry. “Dustin Henderson, you have three seconds to explain what the fuck is happening.”

Lucas, Max, and Will stand back, frightened by your anger. Dustin, the only one who ever seems to face this anger, gulps. “I can explain.”

“Start. Talking.”

And he does. He explains how he had found Dart last night, thinking it had been some new lizard breed previously undiscovered. That’s why he hadn’t let you into his room. Then, to prove he was some scientific prodigy and, which he doesn’t tell you but you suspect, to impress Max.

“I was about to show Mr. Clark before Mike came in and took Dart. According to Will…” Dustin looks over at Max, lowers his voice, and whispers to you, “he’s from the Upside Down.”

And there it is.

There, the dread that has been creeping up on you ever since you saved Will, comes crawling up. You knew this would happen eventually. It’s happening again. You were right.

God, it’s happening again.

Thank fuck you stayed behind with the kids.

You want to throw up, crawl into a ball and pretend nothing else exists anymore, but Dustin is looking at you with fear in his eyes and you know you have to be strong for him. For all the kids, now. “Okay, let’s split up and find Dart.”

Dustin nods and sends Will southbound, Lucas westbound, and Max towards the gymnasium. You go with him, both because he’s your brother and because you have a few choice words you’d like to say to him. Everyone takes a walkie and splits up.

Mike is already long gone, which you’re not surprised by.

After everyone leaves, you snap at Dustin. “Thanks so much for telling me about Dart, by the way.”

“Y/N…”

“What exactly did you think you’d do with that thing hidden in our house?”

“Continue to hide it from you–ow!” Dustin rubs the back of his head.

You continue to walk. “You deserved that.”

“I did.”

You laugh, but then you feel a sense of static behind you. You turn around, but there’s no one there. But the static had felt like the same electricity that had accompanied El’s powers last year, but… No. She’s gone. You know she is.

Brushing it off as paranoia, you continue to keep an eye out for Dart. “So, what does Max think about all this?”

“Mike won’t let us tell her.” Dustin says, annoyance in his voice.

This doesn’t shock you. “I get why. I mean, we all almost died last year.”

“Yeah, but she’s different. She’s cool, I think she could be good for the party.”

Dustin seems so eager, and you feel bad for denying the boy. “She’s too young. You’re all too young for this. We can’t rope her any further into the Upside Down. It wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Your brother sighs. “I mean, I guess… but–”

Will’s voice suddenly comes through the walkie. “Guys, I found him.”

“Where?” Dustin fumbles with the walkie, almost dropping it in his frantic rush to answer.

“In the bathroom by Mr. Salerno’s.”

“Copy that.” Mike says.

You look over at Dustin. “Race you to the bathroom?”

“You’re on.”

The two of you start to run, and at first you’re winning. But then you forget that you haven’t been in the school for at least three years now and you take a wrong turn, misremembering where Mr. Salerno’s room is. “Shit!”

You backtrack, but Dustin is long gone now.

By the time you get your bearings back, Lucas, Mike, and Max have all run down the hallway towards the bathroom. You join them as you all run inside. Dustin is standing in the middle of the bathroom, which you find strange.

Mike looks around. “Where’s Dart?”

“I don’t know. Not here.” You eye your brother, but he averts your gaze.

“Will said he was here.” You remind him, but Dustin doesn’t respond.

Mike curses and starts checking all the stalls.

“Maybe Will has him?” Dustin says, but you keep an eye on him. Something isn’t right.

You’re about to call Dustin’s bluff, accuse him of lying, when Mike suddenly freezes. He looks around, then turns to you. “Where’s Will?”

You turn around and finally notice that yeah, Will isn’t here. But he had just radioed from the bathroom.

“I… I don’t know.” Fear settles in you now, and you have an awful feeling that something bad is about to happen. After his episode from the night before…

You run out the bathroom, the first to start looking for Will.

-

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[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 28

chapter 47:

1. 😟😶 no one even got to say goodbye. i- WHAT THE HELL??? FUCKING RIDDLE

2. i’m at least happy that remus, james, and pandora can all take care of each other during the games.

3. im actually highly worried about regulus being a death eater. too worried, actually

4. “Regulus realizes it as he sits there, never moving or doing anything at all, just breathing; he isn't scared this time. Not even a bit.”

reg not being scared makes ME scared

5. “He had planned to kiss Remus' mask one last time, and kiss Remus, too.”

of COURSE it’s ALWAYS wolfstar that tips the tears over. why does THAT make me sob???

6. oh shit. it’s a maze

7. “”Come now, surely you wouldn't harm me and little Draco, would you?"

"I'm going to give you one chance to run," Sirius tells her, holding still, "and take little Draco with you."”

LMAOO they both know she’s lying out her ass

8. “It's Mavis and Velvet; they'd done exactly as they promised they would. They found weapons, found each other, and they died together. Their bodies are splayed out on the ground right beside one another, curled close in death like the lovers they were in life.”

oh shit oh shit oh shit i’m starting to cry again. i feel so bad for them, but don’t blame them in the slightest. it’s what i would have done

9. “and there's just this quiet, momentary mourning and respect for two people who loved each other and decided, together, that they would not participate in a game as cruel and sadistic as this one. They went out together, in complete control of their own fate, and they never deserved anything other than a long life full of love.”

crying HARDER. this would be the turning point in the games for me. i shit you not, i’d start teaming up and trying to break out the fucking arena

10. “And then, unprompted, Regulus' voice rings out, nearly snarling. He's addressing the sky, the audience, the Hallows in a low hiss of derision when he declares, "When you take them, you take them together, and know that it's your fault."”

i know i’m quoting this whole little section, but it’s IMPORTANT and it HURTS and everyone in that arena is being human right now instead of trying to survive. they’re all united on the front that they’re human and understand what it meant to love

11. i’m not surprised that the “first” kill of the arena was made by sirius. especially since it was to save regulus

12. WAIT YALL ARE GONNA LAUGH AT ME FOR THIS!!! sirius killed twelve people in the arena the first time. just like how he was blamed for twelve deaths in canon. i. it took me too long to make that connection yall

13. oh CHRIST i forgot that they planned to kill marlene’s parents in front of her right before she went in the arena. i’m so sorry. i want to comfort her

14. “Someday, Riddle is going to fuck with the wrong person, and they're going to slaughter him, and on that day, the whole world is going to shine just a little brighter” 👀 side eye

15. sirius has too much trust in regulus and i understand why and i see that, but BABES you’re so wrong

16. “In fact, they're all eyeing him like they're considering just killing him now so they won't have to deal with the headache he is sure to be. He's so ridiculously fond of each of them, truly.” 😶😑😶 blink blink. my dear. you need therapy

17. i- eli got in the arena and took a GODDAMN NAP- no fucking way. that’s wild y’all

18. regulus hating the rain is so me. and i’m not even exaggerating. reg hates the rain and refuses to go in it. if i get wet from the rain, the second i get indoors, i start having severe panic attacks over getting wet. i don’t blame him in the slightest.

19. y’all. people have really got to stop challenging regulus. he says that he’s gonna kill a person or stab them with a fork or brutally maim them if they kill/insult james or sirius. and every damn time, people still test him. and every time, he goes through with it. why do people not believe him?? he SAID he won’t hesitate

20. the authors notes are literally me on the previous point (19):

“regulus: i am telling you explicitly what i will physically do to you if you do This Thing

everyone else: *does it anyway and is immediately shocked when he follows through*

like??? DOES HE LOOK LIKE THE TYPE OF MAN WHO JOKES??? WHY DOES NO ONE TAKE HIM SERIOUSLY??”

😭😭😭 me fr

remember to respect zar’s wishes and fanfic laws! do not buy fics! do not repost crimson rivers on other sites. please and thank you.

[koooslys]

ugly love ~ jjk

genre- fluff, angst, explicit ( basically all in one ) 

pairing- jungkook x female reader 

summary : this is inspired by the book ugly love by colleen hoover, jungkook nd y/n are best friends but grow to have a mutual attraction between each other, therefore they decide that an fwb relationship would be just right for them, however, they claim that it wont take a toll on their friendship but the fights, the quarrels and the toxicity says otherwise. Rules get broken and promises gets shattered, love gets ugly. Enjoy.

Chapter One ll 001 

i cant lose, when im with you, how could i snooze and miss the moment-- 

the loudness of your music lowers down, realising one side of your earbuds had been pulled out, your two friends, jimin, and yoongi, suddenly in sight. "jeez y/n we've been calling your phone since last period, its lunch right now" jimin, one of your friends say

"sorry guys, i turned off my notifs, mrs kim has a problem with notifications dinging in class" you explain, pulling off your other earbud and reaching into your school bag for your wallet before standing up

Your eyes glance around, looking for your third friend, "Hey, wheres jungkook?" 

"Well hes-" jimin subtly looks behind you, before he could finish his sentence 

Two hands grab your shoulder suddenly, earning a shriek to slip out of you, as the male figure behind you laughs, before putting an arm around you and moving to stand beside you 

"missed me?" he teases as you swat his hand away, even though he brings it back to rest around you 

"Like hell i do, so that was your master plan? To arrive late just so you could scare me?" you speak, you let your eyes roll 

"Mhm, and from the looks of it, it worked" He smiles, as jimin lets out a soft laugh

"can yall hurry up, ive been starving since math and yall are going to kill me by keeping me here" yoongi thats lazily sat in the chair infront of you speaks up 

"someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today" you giggle seeing him glare at you lazily from his seat, as the two other male figures beside you chuckle

"come on yoongles" you sing song,walking towards him before pulling him up and interlocking your arms with him dragging him towards the cafeteria as he whines, the two other male figures behind you laughing

___________________

You jimin yoongi and jungkook had been best friends for around five years, ever since the last year of middle school up to your guys's fourth year in high school. You guys practically do everything together, sure you guys have other friends, but you guys hang out with each other the most, showing up at each others houses unannounced, facetiming at 3 in the morning, late night walks/drives, hanging out after school. You guys were locked in and were each others closest friends.

Jimin and Jungkook were somewhat popular, the girls drool over them and are often questioning why they arent as close with them as you are.But you dont and couldnt give a care in the world. Yoongi on the other hand is well known, girls and boys both like him, but nobody dares to make conversation with him, for obvious reasons, he just has a resting bitch face that everybodys afraid of

Nevertheless, you love them with your entire heart and you know they do too.

"yoongi wait! mind getting me apple juice, i forgot to order it" you call out before yoongi walks away to buy his food, feeling jimin sit next to you

he simply nods before you feel somebody hover over from behind you and steal two of your fries "Hey!" you call out, hitting jungkooks shoulder before he walks and sits infront you and jimin laughing. "you always steal my food, so i get to steal yours" he mocks while shoving your fries down his throat

your eyes roll, leaning over to take two of jimins fries, "Hey?! hes the one who stole your food not me" he bickers, "Gimme" he says and aggressively takes a slice of bread from your tray

Yoongi comes back with your drink, thanking him, the four of you continue with lunch, before a guy approaches your table, earning your attention

"hey y/n right?" the guy says, his eyes focused on you and you only

"O-h yeah, josh right? whats good" you speak out

"i was just wondering if you wanted to hang out with me and my friends this weekend, to watch the new conjuring movie" he explains, confusion running through your body, this was weird. Nobodys ever asked you to hang out with their friendgroup, especially when you barely know each other 

your eyes glance at jungkook and yoongi, whos eyes are down at their food, glancing up at you when your head turns towards them 

"Oh, thats ... sweet but why me? we barely know each other" you slightly laugh, noticing the intensity.

"Well me and my friends have always thought you were pretty cool, just never had the courage to ask you to hangout with us" Now you didnt know if you liked this, his friendgroup consisted of him, mark and two other girls, sunmi and alexa. And lets say you and your friends werent really that fond of them, especially the girls

"Well-" before you could speak, yoongi spoke up noticing the uncomfortable atmosphere

"She dosent really hangout with anybody else but us, and isnt it weird asking some random girl you barely know to hang out with people she dosent even converse with?" his words come off rather harsh, but the three of you knew it was just how he talks

You mentally smile, thats one thing you love about yours and yoongis friendship, nobody could read the both of you better than each other, thats why the both of you are that close, he never thought hed ever be close with a girl, but the both of you are THAT similar. You basically see him as a brother, actually no, you absolutely literally see him as a brother, thats how close you guys are

You notice joshs jaw slightly clench, "I see, if thats the case, you three are welcome to come if youd like, we just want to hangout" 

"Still pretty weird if you ask me" jungkook whispers under his breath , looking back at his food to take a bite, his jaw clenching slightly but neither of you besides jimin notice that

you see josh sighing out of annoyance, but he plays it off cool "So, whatd you say y/n?" he turns back to you

You glance at jimin, he gives you an "its up to you" look, so you decide to accept the offer out of kindness, but only and literally because he offered for your friends to come along

You nod, "Yeah, why not"

Josh smiles, "Alright then, see yall at shaws theatre at six today? Dont be late" He smiles at you before turning to your friends after his smile drops, glancing at them and walking away

yoongi eyes him walking away until hes out of sight 

"I dont like that guy" Jungkook whispers, leaning closer 

"Neither do i, and sunmi and alexa are going to be there, fuck we literally hate them" Yoongi sighs

"Looks like hes into y/n.." jimins voice trails off, subtly glancing at jungkook, but besides jungkook, neither of you noticed

Jungkook clears his voice, "Since when were you friends with josh baby" he asks, putting a spoonful of rice into his mouth

You and jungkook had a confusing friendship, you guys are the most flirtatious with each other, but yet yall always cringe at others when they ship you two together. You guys were that close to call each other pet names even though it meant nothing to the two of you, you guys were just friends.

"Im not, honestly he kinda creeped me out today, but whatever, its just one hang out and definitely the last" Your friends nod

"Figured, just stick with us alright?" Jimin says, you smile and nod, appreciating him caring.

____________________________

"You know, its not too late to back out now y/n, we could go to the rooftop and smoke, like always" Yoongi speaks from beside you, eyes on his phone

You four were in the mall, finally making your way towards the movie theatre after stalling for so long in the car

"Ive been saying, i swear theyre just gonna be annoying the fuck outta me" Jimin speaks up from behind, agreeing with Yoongi

"Its fine you guys, lets just get this over with, and i kind of feel bad, plus its not like we're going to hangout with them again

Yoongi sighs, eyes never leaving his phone as you guys eventually reach the theatre 

"Here we go" Jungkook sighs from behind you and yoongi "You sure you wanna do this?" Jimin asks, earning a simple nod from you

Mark notices you guys walking over and nudges josh

"Hey, yall made it! Was starting to think you guys would bail" Josh says, slightly walking closer

You let out an awkward chuckle, "We would never" you let out, jungkook and jimin glancing at each other from behind, knowing that thats not the conversation yall had on the car ride here 

"Well, im guessing you guys already know each other but this is mark, sunmi and alexa" He introduces his friends, you guys glancing at each one of them

Mark however, eyes you up and down, and that dosent go unnoticed by yoongi

"That outfits quite revealing dont you think? Especially for a movie theatre, arent you going to be cold?" The male says, his girl friends behind him snicker subtly

He comments on your outfit as you frown, your style was usually either super laid back or super dressed up, it depends on what you prefer to wear on that day

You glance down at your outfit, you were wearing a tight tubed plain black top, followed with black jean shorts that rested just above the middle of your thighs

Yoongis head snaps towards him, all four of your eyebrows furrow, before you could say something, you hear jungkook speak

"I think shes allowed to wear what she wants" He says, not liking another guy looking at you in such a way, he didnt like you, but the thought of another guy looking at you made his stomach uneasy, and he never knew why, mark smiles and raises his hands up in defence 

"Never said she couldnt, was just worried, you know? As a friend" He smiles, eyes turned to you, inching slightly closer, in which yoongi pulls you closer and slightly behind him away from the other male, Yoongi wasnt trying to hide that, hes the last person you could think of that would give a fuvk about what people think of him.

Mark notices as his smile widens even more, amused by the four of you

"Thank you, but i think ill be just fine" You say and smile 

Wasting no more time, josh suggests yall go over to the food area to buy some food before yall made your way into the theatre 

Jungkook makes his way to stand next to you, your eyes looking up at the big screen that showcased the food menu

"Why do you even bother, youre going to get two hotdogs anyways" He teases as you glare at him 

"Surprising you remember" You tease back

"Bummer you think that way, considering i know everything about you" He speaks 

"Wrong, you missed out something" You smile 

"Two hot dogs with mayo and chilli" He says, you smile and speak to correct him but he cuts you off before you do

"And they cant be on the hotdog, theyd have to be squirted at the side, or put in a plastic cup if they have one" He smiles mockingly

"You forgot my drink" 

"You dont get one love, you never finish it so you make me share my drink with you, isnt that why i always order a large?"

You smile at how well he knows you, not being able to say anything, you roll your eyes playfully and push him towards the cashier with the rest of the guys

Sunmi and alexa watch the two of you conversing from behind and soon make their way to speak to you

"Didnt know you and jungkook were a thing" Sunmi speaks, your head turns to beside you noticing she was talking to you 

You laugh slightly, "Oh, we're not a thing" 

Her eyebrows raise "A guy thats not even your boyfriend calls you 'love' " Alexa questions

"Its just a thing we do, i guess its just how close we are" You speak, not knowing what you just said had enraged Sunmi.

"Thats kinda pathetic, what if a girl thats into him gets the wrong idea? Arent you just ruining his chances of getting a girlfriend" 

You never thought about it that way, you always felt safe with him, to the point him calling you pet names became normalised, but you didnt care, she knew nothing about the relationship between you and jungkook and the way she spoke to you annoyed you

"Honestly, i dont think thats any of your business, are you-" before you could finish your sentence, your friends walk towards you with theirs and your food

Jungkook hands you your food, while sipping his drink

You didnt know why, but the moment you knew that your closeness with jungkook was somewhat annoying to them, you felt the urge and excitement to show it off 

Without thinking, you pull jungkook closer to you by his drink, the straw slipping out of his mouth abruptly as you bring your face closer to his to reach the drinks straw

You take a sip, jungkook still flustered because it happened so suddenly, and quite literally because your face was right infront of his 

You pull away to look up at him "Sorry love, i was thirsty" You smile, he didnt have enough time to process the petname you called him, because its usually him that uses it on you, but he chuckles whispering an 'its okay' 

"lets go?" You speak, turning towards your friends, seeing them nod as yall walk past the girls infront of you, you didnt even have to glance at them to know that Sunmi was furious, and at that moment you knew she had a thing for jungkook, and you were determined to make her feel like ass, not because youre jealous or anything, you dont even like him. Right?

_____________________________

Taking a seat in between jimin and jungkook, yoongis seated at the corner beside jimin, the rest seated in a line after jungkook

"If youre cold, let me know okay?" Jungkook says from beside you as you simply nod 

"Actually, im kind of cold right now" You whisper of embarrassment as Jungkook chuckles softly 

"C'mere" He gestures, pulling off his large ass jacket from one arm, placing it around you, in that way the both of you are covered. His arm rests around you and on your arm, rubbing it slightly for warmth

"This okay?" You snuggle closer and nod

Mark watches the both of you from beside Jungkook, he stares subtly before wanting to make conversation with you 

"Y/n, have you watched the first conjuring movie already?" He leans in and tries to ask, but you were too comfortable at the moment, you had your eyes closed, drowning out all the sound around you 

Jungkook notices and nudges you with his body slightly "Hes talking to you baby" The petname rolling off his tongue on purpose 

That dosent go un noticed by Mark, his eyes snap towards Jungkook, confused.

You still dont realise somebodys talking to you so Mark takes that opportunity to question Jungkook, "You guys are together?" He asks as Jungkook smiles, he got what he wanted.

"Nope" He replies shortly, turning away to use his phone, not giving him a proper explanation on why he was able to call you that, and thats what he wanted. He wanted to leave Mark in confusion, he wanted to deny his question but leave him knowing that y/n was not available. He didnt even realise what he was doing until he was left in silence for a few minutes 

He turned to look at you, resting peacefully against him. He stares at the arm he wrapped around you. And he didnt know why it never occurred to him that this may not be the most normal thing between opposite genders, until now. But he knew he had no feelings for you, and he knew you had no feelings for him. It was clear the both of you were just friends. Just friends.

[differentpostrebel]

Lost and Found: A Pirates Promise

Chapter 45: The Last Stand

This gif because Ichiji finally arrives to whole cake island

And this gif because Sanji in the next chapter is going to fight with luffy.

And this song because when we get to that final POV, which is Sanji's yall will feel it, when Y/N says it. Also this song is way to good LMFAO

A/N: and we are back at it again with another chapter! Yall, I have been going back and forth with some of the writing that I now have original drafts of some of the chapters. I felt inspired by some and others. I was like maybe this would work, to which I enjoyed so much that it has now been added. When I tell you, the changes, the angst, the betrayal, and everything is going to be wild! We got some Ichiji POV, Sanji POV, and Y/N POV. The ending tho.. so much hurt. Thank you guys so much for following, liking, reblogging, just following along with the fan fiction. I believe it's this chapter or the next one that has a few song lyrics that are spanish, but I translated it to english, I will add the song onto here so that way once you read it you’ll understand it. The song is called La Media Vuelta by Luis Miguel… and dont worry… there'll be more songs coming as well. We added that flair and AU to these bad boys, while also sticking to the anime pacing. And without further ado. Let the adventure begin! 

Word count: 9.7K

Sanji x Reader, Sanji x Y/N, One piece X Reader 

Y/N POV… 

I watched as Nami kissed the vivre card, a sly smile spreading across her face. "Ohh, I like where this is going," I said, seeing the panic ripple through the homies as they sensed what was coming. Their eyes widened, full of fear. The power of Lola's vivre card was undeniable, and I couldn't help but grin.

"Didn't you hear what the tree said before that? The whole plan spilled right out!" I added, laughing at how things were turning in our favor. Pound, still trying to wrap his head around it, asked how exactly having the vivre card was going to help.

Nami, in all her brilliance, decided to use King Baum's voice to explain, mimicking his deep, trembly accent. I couldn't hold it in—I burst out laughing, wiping a tear from my eye. "Nami, stop!" I gasped, clutching my stomach. It was too much.

But the moment didn’t last long. Nami’s senses were sharp, and she turned her attention to Randolph and the stork, who were trying to sneak away. "Not so fast, you two!" she called out.

Randolph, the rabbit, immediately pointed to the stork. "Apologies, it was his idea!" he said, quick to throw his partner under the bus.

"He's lying!" the stork squawked, flustered.

Nami didn't let them off the hook so easily. "Here’s the deal—you forest creatures are going to be my loyal subjects from now on. Any questions?" she declared with an air of confidence. King Baum and Randolph started to protest, their voices shaky and unsure.

"Ohh, you wanna do this the hard way? Go ahead and try me," Nami challenged, her eyes gleaming with power. The homies quivered in fear. It was clear who was in control now.

"Listen up—here’s your first order. You guys go help Luffy!" Nami commanded, her voice ringing with authority. The homies, reluctant at first, began to murmur their protests.

"Well, are you going to argue, or are you going to help Luffy?!" Nami snapped, the vivre card glowing faintly in her hand. Its power over them was absolute, and they had no choice but to follow her orders.

"This vivre card is coming in pretty handy, if I do say so myself," Nami added with a smirk.

I grinned, nodding in agreement. "No kidding, you’ve got them wrapped around your finger," I said, watching the homies scramble to obey. The tables had turned in our favor, and now it was time to make our move.

The homies began to murmur among themselves, confusion evident on their faces. "Has anybody seen where that red-haired girl went? And the one with the bandana on her head?" they asked, their voices tinged with concern.

"Ohh, we're right here!" Nami chirped, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as we revealed ourselves inside King Baum's mouth. The tension in the air shifted, and I couldn't help but laugh at their bewilderment.

Nami raised Lola’s vivre card triumphantly. "I thought I told you to help out Luffy fighting Cracker," she said, her tone dripping with authority.

Pound was now lounging comfortably in one of King Baum's trunks, looking a bit too relaxed for my liking. "Have you seen him? He's pretty strong," the flower homie said, glancing nervously around.

"Like I care," Nami replied, her voice sharp. She looked at me, and we both shared a knowing grin. "Listen here and listen good—no matter how many of you wither, it won't bother us one bit."

The homies all gasped in shock, their eyes wide as they processed our words. The sheer audacity of our claim seemed to unsettle them.

"So you guys are afraid of General Cracker? What about Big Mom?" I taunted, feeling a surge of confidence.

Nami continued to hold the vivre card high, her determination unwavering. "Which one is scarier?" she asked, her voice playful yet commanding.

"You are!" the homies squeaked in unison, their faces pale with fear.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at their reaction. "See? Even they know not to mess with us," I said, feeling the exhilaration of our newfound power.

Nami winked at me, and we shared a moment of camaraderie. "Now, let's get back out there and show them what we can do!" she declared, her spirit infectious. 

Ichiji POV…

We finally arrived at the Germa Kingdom after two days of travel. The moment the castle came into view, a sense of anticipation washed over me, but my thoughts were preoccupied with a little someone who wore a white dress—my fiancée, Y/N. She should be arriving at Whole Cake soon, I thought, excitement bubbling in my chest as the plan fell into motion.

My gaze flicked to the engagement ring nestled securely in its box, the diamonds glinting in the light. I stared at it, imagining how it would look on Y/N’s finger. I could almost see her beaming smile as I slipped it onto her hand, her eyes sparkling with surprise and joy. From the moment I first saw her fight, her fierce spirit ignited something deep inside me—an insatiable hunger that only she could satisfy. Even though our marriage was arranged, I was determined to claim her entirely, to make her mine in every way.

“Hey, Ichiji, still daydreaming about your little princess?” Niji teased, stepping off the ship beside me.

“Just mind your own business,” I shot back, though a small smile tugged at my lips. The cheers of Germa soldiers welcomed us as we entered the kingdom, their voices echoing in the air.

“Welcome back, Master Ichiji!” one soldier called, his enthusiasm infectious.

“Congratulations on your engagement!” another soldier shouted, and a swell of pride washed over me. The admiration of my comrades filled me with a sense of purpose. "You two are made for each other!" yelled another soldier, and I felt my chest swell at the thought. Whether Y/N wanted this marriage or not was no longer my concern, especially since we had something of hers hostage.

“Master Ichiji, Master Niji, it’s been a while!” another soldier chimed in, his voice brimming with excitement.

“I can’t believe they ended that long battle at Broc coli Island!” yelled a third, causing a wave of chatter to ripple through the crowd.

“Why isn’t he coming out to greet us? Where is he?” Niji asked, scanning the area for the failure of a brother, Sanji.

“Knock it off, Niji,” I replied, irritation creeping into my voice. The last thing I needed was to hear about Sanji right now.

As we made our way to the castle, I could feel the energy shifting, anticipation hanging thick in the air. “Hey, Dad! We’re back!” I called out, stepping into the dining room.

“Great work, Ichiji and you too, Niji!” our father boomed, his authoritative voice resonating in the grand hall as he sat on his throne, radiating an air of power and dominance. “Have the arrangements been made like I asked?” I inquired, my gaze fixed on one of the handmaids, an edge of command in my tone.

“Yes, young master. Allow me to bring in the paperwork for you,” she purred, the flattery grating on my nerves.

“Where is he?” Niji interrupted, scanning the room for our brother Sanji.

“Right here,” Reiju said, stepping in with Sanji trailing behind her.

“Sanji! Wow, you really didn’t die! Check you out,” Niji mocked, his laughter echoing through the hall. I remained composed, my expression unwavering as I focused on Sanji.

His eyes met mine, a storm of rage and disbelief swirling within them. “Don’t you want to congratulate Ichiji on his marriage to Princess Y/N? I know she’s your crewmate and all, but…” I laughed, enjoying the discomfort that hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Ichiji, have you gotten the chance to see her yet?” our father asked, genuine curiosity lighting up his features.

“Yes, I did,” I replied, letting the words flow smoothly, enjoying the moment. “I actually spotted her back in Chocolat town, wearing a short white dress.” The vivid image of Y/N in that dress ignited a fire within me, and I savored Sanji’s reaction. His tension was palpable, his fists clenching at his sides.

“She looked exquisite, like an angel among mere mortals,” I added, a smug grin spreading across my face. The frustration etched on Sanji's face was more than satisfying; it was intoxicating. I could almost taste the victory on my tongue.

“Have you told her yet?” Reiju interjected, the playful tone in her voice adding to the amusement.

“Not yet, but soon,” I said, savoring the anticipation that bubbled beneath the surface. “I want it to be unforgettable, something that’ll make her realize how fortunate she is.”

Sanji’s gaze hardened, his frustration boiling over. “Why are you so obsessed with this? It’s not what she wants!”

“Obsession? No, Sanji. It’s about claiming what’s rightfully mine,” I replied, a carefree air masking the hunger brewing inside me. “This is an arrangement, and she’ll learn to embrace it. I’ll make sure of that.”

Niji couldn't resist the chance to poke fun at Sanji. “Hahaha, looks like you got yourself a fancy gift. Shackles always did suit you; takes you back, doesn’t it?” he taunted, his laughter echoing through the dining room.

Sanji slapped Niji’s hand away, rising to his feet, his head held high, eyes blazing with indignation. 

“Ichiji and Niji, you both must be exhausted from the trip. Why not grab something to eat?” our father interjected, a tone of authority in his voice that quelled the brewing tension.

After changing out of our raid suits and into our usual attire, I opted for a black long-sleeve shirt and a red cravat paired with white dress pants, feeling the weight of my responsibilities settle onto my shoulders. The lavish spread before us looked tempting, and we dove into the meal, savoring each bite.

“I’m sorry, young master, but here are the papers for you to review,” the handmaid from before said, approaching with a stack of documents.

“Good, you’re dismissed,” I replied, waving her away without a second thought. The others continued their banter, but I could sense Sanji’s eyes boring into me, filled with suppressed fury.

“What’s that?” Yonji asked, leaning closer, curiosity etched on his face.

I smirked, keeping my focus on the papers. “These are the arrangements I have planned for when my fiancée arrives,” I replied confidently. “Clothing stocked, shoes stocked, wine stocked, flowers stocked… and her dresses for the events, one of which is the lunch with Big mom.” I paused for effect, allowing the anticipation to build in the room.

“The pale yellow halter dress, openback with a high slit for her left thigh,” I continued, relishing the moment. “Perfect for the lunch” My eyes flicked up to Sanji, who was gritting his teeth, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration as he chewed through the meal.

“What do you think? Isn’t it exquisite?” I asked, the teasing lilt in my voice as I enjoyed his reaction.

“Exquisite? More like tasteless,” Sanji snapped, glaring at me.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, brother,” I shot back, leaning back in my chair, basking in the warmth of my triumph. “I’m just looking out for her. After all, it’s not every day you get to dress up a princess, right?”

“Maybe she’d prefer someone who actually cares about her feelings,” he muttered, trying to maintain his composure.

Reiju, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Ichiji, can I see the ring?”

Reiju leaned forward, her curiosity piqued as I pulled out the engagement ring from my pocket. The brilliance of the diamonds sparkled under the light, but it was the deep red ruby nestled in the center that truly caught her eye.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” she remarked, inspecting the ring closely. The ruby glinted like a captured flame, drawing attention to its significance. “She’ll love it. But will she love you?”

I shrugged, confidence radiating from me. “She will come to love me. I’ll make sure of it. This is just the beginning.”

The glint in Sanji’s eyes darkened as he shot back, “You can’t force love, Ichiji. She deserves someone who truly cares for her.”

“Of course, and that someone is me,” I countered, relishing the challenge. “Soon, everyone will see how perfect we are together.”

My father straightened in his seat, the air thick with authority as he began to discuss the fall of the Bro Coli regime due to Doflamingo not supplying them weapons, since he was defeated, a significant victory for our family. “And as I last recall, Ichiji, didn’t your fiancée face Doflamingo, even defeating one of his top executives?” he said, pride glimmering in his eyes.

“Yes, she’s impressive,” I replied, a sense of satisfaction swelling within me. I couldn’t help but feel drawn to her fierce spirit even more with every mention of her strength.

Yonji took another bite of his bread, his smirk deepening as he continued, "If she's anything like she was when we first saw her during that broadcast, then I definitely should've called dibs first." His words carried an edge, but the real sting came next. "And if she's anything like what I just saw—wearing that short blue skirt and cropped tank back on that ship, showing off that body—man, I really should’ve made a move sooner."

I turned to Yonji, my patience running thin. "Watch your mouth," I said with a sharpness that wiped the smirk from his face. "She's still my fiancée, and I won’t tolerate any disrespect toward her."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes still twinkled with amusement. "Alright, alright. Just saying—"

"You’ve said enough," I interrupted, my voice low and deadly.

Sanji, who had been quiet until now, shot up, his eyes widening. “Wait, what broadcast?” His voice was tight, filled with both confusion and anger.

Yonji laughed, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. "Oh, you didn’t know? Back at Punk Hazard, Ichiji here couldn’t keep his eyes off her when she fought that bird woman. It was a hell of a fight." He chuckled again. “He was practically drooling over the screen.”

Sanji’s face twisted in fury. “So you’ve been watching her this whole time?” he growled, stepping closer, fists clenched. "You bastards were the damn brokers keeping tabs on her!"

I didn’t flinch as Sanji’s anger erupted. Instead, I leaned back, my smirk widening. “Of course, Sanji. You didn’t think we’d ignore someone as... valuable as her, did you? After all, she’s soon to be part of the Vinsmoke family.”

Sanji’s face flushed with rage, his hands shaking as he fought to contain himself. “You don’t have the right to call her that,” he spat, barely keeping his voice steady, his fury palpable. "She’s not yours."

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter,” I shot back, enjoying the tension in the room. “She’s mine now. And once she’s here, you’ll have to get used to it.”

The anticipation of her arrival and the subsequent confrontation hung in the air like a storm cloud, and I couldn’t wait to see how she would handle it. 

“Bear this in mind: the power we will be gaining is tremendous! The power of Germa will strengthen!” my father declared, his voice booming with authority and excitement. It was rare to see him this animated, and I could feel a swell of pride in my chest.

Niji leaned back in his chair, a smirk plastered on his face. “You should be honored, Sanji, since you’re marrying one of Big Mom’s daughters. Who would have predicted you’d come in handy?” The jab was sharp, intended to provoke, and I could see Sanji’s jaw clench, a mix of defiance and anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“There's still food on your plate, don’t waste it, Niji,” Sanji said, trying to keep his cool despite the tension.

“This? Yeah, I’m done—not hungry,” Niji retorted, pushing his plate away in mock disgust.

“Finish it! You don’t know the value of food, you stuck-up prince!” Sanji snapped back, his eyes blazing with indignation.

“Shut the hell up!” Niji fired back, clearly irritated. He waved his hand, calling over the head chef, Cossette. “This vile slop you served us caused my brother to upset me!” His voice dripped with disdain as he held up the dish, ready to hurl it.

Before Niji could throw it, Sanji sprang up, his anger reaching its peak. “You low-life bastard! Are you trying to leave a scar on a lady's face?” he yelled, stepping between Niji and Cossette.

Sanji POV.. 

I couldn’t stand these arrogant bastards. The way they carried themselves, like they owned the world, made my blood boil. But what stoked the flames of my fury even more was the fact that Ichiji was using Y/N, my darling princess, my fiancée (a lie, but it gave me a sense of grounding), as a pawn in his twisted game. And to make matters worse, Niji almost hit Cossette! A woman! Was he trying to scar her face?

“Huh, a lady?” Niji scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “How stupid are you defending a kitchen wench?” He grinned as if relishing the chaos.

I crouched down, looking at the food that was now strewn across the floor. “Now there’s food all over the floor,” I said, eyeing the mess.

“It’s called aligot,” I said, “and it’s made with cheese blended with mashed potatoes. Potatoes are very nutritious. I assume this fine concoction, due to your noble status, was chosen for you—a fine course for breakfast.” I shoved a spoonful into my mouth, relishing the rich flavors.

“Don’t, Master Sanji! Royal blood mustn’t eat off the floor!” Cossette chimed in beside me, her voice a mixture of concern and urgency.

“The flavor is impeccable,” I muttered, still chewing.

“Poverty has done a number on you, Sanji! Don’t taint our bloodline!” Niji spat, advancing toward me, fists clenched. Just as he was about to land a hit, I locked eyes with him.

“Think of the wedding! Stop!” Father’s voice cut through the tension, and Niji halted his strike, though his rage simmered beneath the surface.

“I’m embarrassed to even be related to you! Disrespecting food is one thing, but raising your hand to a woman is sick!” I said, my gaze now directed toward Ichiji. “And forcing a woman into a marriage she didn’t want is vile!”

“Just because you’re stuck-up princes doesn’t mean you can treat women like dirt!” I shouted, feeling the heat rising in my chest. “Everything you guys do goes against my principles.”

“Oh, Sanji, your head is tainted by the ideologies of the weak! Ever since we were children, your thinking has been incomprehensible! Royalty abides by its own set of rules; you’re out of touch,” Ichiji retorted, his voice dripping with condescension.

“The last thing I want to hear is something out of your mouth!” I yelled back, my anger boiling over.

“Could it be that your ideologies were tainted by this man?” Father interjected, holding up a picture of Zeff, his eyes glinting with malicious intent.

“Big Mom’s information network is impressive,” he continued. “I believe this is a recent photo. Is something wrong? You’re turning white as a ghost,” he taunted.

My eyes widened in horror as the realization sank in.

“In other words, this is just a precaution. I won’t hesitate to relieve this man of his head if you don’t abide by the terms,” he said, his voice low and threatening.

“I wouldn’t do anything drastic if I were you. Forget your friends, accept your marriage to Pudding quietly, and let the princess marry Ichiji. Do that, and everything will work out just fine.”

Panic surged through me as my mind flashed back to the moment Zeff saved me when I was only eight years old, pulling me from the depths of despair, the Baratie, my first real home. His life was on the line now, just like King’s and all of Y/N’s loved ones were at risk. And here I was, completely powerless.

We were both stuck, and there was nothing I could do to stop this.

“Let’s have a peaceful wedding ceremony,” Father said, his voice as cold and commanding as ever. “We will be having lunch with Big Mom and Pudding today, so go get ready shortly.” His eyes glinted with expectation as he leaned back, fully confident in his control over the situation. “Any objections, Sanji?” he added, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, daring me to speak up.

I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, staring down at the floor as a storm of emotions churned inside me. Anger, frustration, helplessness—they all threatened to boil over, but what could I say? What could I do that wouldn’t put Zeff, Y/N, and everyone I cared about in danger?

My head bowed in defeat, the weight of everything crashing down on me. Zeff’s life hung in the balance, Y/N was being manipulated, and I was being pushed into a corner with no way out. All for the sake of some twisted family plan to strengthen Germa and align with Big Mom.

Now, I’m faced with another dilemma, and believe me when I say—I truly hate it here. This isn’t my family. These people, with their arrogance and cruelty, they’ve never been my family. I left them behind a long time ago. But here I am, shackled to them once again, powerless to protect the people I love.

All I want is to escape this nightmare. But for now, I have no choice but to play along. For Zeff. For Y/N. I grit my teeth and prepare for the charade to continue.

Y/N POV.. 

We finally made it to where Luffy was, just in time to see Kingbaum slam into General Cracker. "That went better than expected! Kingbaum, Luffy! Are you okay?" Nami asked with concern, glancing back at Luffy as we all tried to catch our breath.

"Luffy, you alright?" I echoed, worry filling my voice.

“Nami, Y/N… I need time to recover from Bounce Man,” Luffy replied, his voice weak and strained.

“What?” Nami asked, wide-eyed.

“Luffy needs at least ten minutes to regain his strength. Bounce Man always takes a lot out of him," I explained, remembering the toll it had taken on him during his battle against Doflamingo back in Dressrosa.

“Alright, I’ll look after you until you rest up,” Nami said as she turned to the homies. “You! Bring Luffy to us and protect him until ten minutes have passed.”

“You gotta do what she commands, homies!” Kingbaum ordered.

The homies quickly dragged Luffy up to us. “Thanks, guys,” Luffy muttered weakly.

“Don’t thank us yet; save your energy,” Nami urged, her voice tight as we heard General Cracker approaching once again.

“That’s our cue, let’s go!” Nami shouted as Kingbaum picked up the pace, trying to get away from Cracker.

“I feel so ashamed!” Kingbaum wept as he lumbered forward.

“Let’s try not to get caught! Pick up the pace!” Nami urged, her voice tense.

“Son of a birch!” Kingbaum cursed. "He's gonna catch up! Can’t you go any faster?” Nami yelled, panic rising in her voice.

“How many minutes have passed?” I asked, my eyes scanning the dense forest ahead.

“Not even the full ten!” Nami replied, clearly agitated.

“Let’s speed it up, you guys!” Nami commanded.

Suddenly, Kingbaum stopped dead in his tracks. “Why’d we stop?” I asked, immediately on alert.

“Who’s this guy?!” Nami cried out, her voice filled with fear as the homies trembled around us.

The homies murmured in terror, “That’s… General Cracker!”

“You mean to tell me General Cracker isn’t an actual biscuit cracker?” I said, half in disbelief.

“That’s not the point!” Nami snapped as we found ourselves surrounded by Cracker’s biscuit soldiers once more.

Cracker grinned menacingly. “Hmm, so humor me, Kingbaum. Want to explain why you’re helping the Straw Hats?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

“Well… you see, I…,” Kingbaum stammered in fear before Cracker sliced off the top of his trunk in one swift motion.

“Ahhh!” Kingbaum howled in pain.

“I’ll just kill you all instead,” Cracker declared coldly as several homies fell, lifeless, around us.

“This guy is scary…” Nami muttered under her breath.

“You surprised? I’m one of the Sweet Three Generals,” Cracker said, pride in his voice.

“Nami, leave this one to me,” I said firmly, my resolve hardening. "I’ll buy us some time."

I reached up and tightened Zoro’s bandana around my head, feeling a sense of comfort in its presence, as if Zoro’s fighting spirit were with me. The fabric hugged my forehead like a protective charm, giving me the focus I needed for the battle ahead. I drew my sword, my fingers gripping the hilt as I pressed the blue gemstone embedded in its handle. A powerful surge of energy pulsed through my veins, different this time—cool and fierce. Ice began to spread over the blade, glistening with blue electricity crackling along its edges.

“Nami, make sure the homies protect Luffy, okay?” I said, my voice steady as I stepped forward to face Cracker.

Cracker grinned, clearly entertained. “And who might you be?” he sneered.

I clenched my left hand, feeling the power surging within me. Without hesitation, I leaped into the air, my blade radiating with frost and lightning.

“Ice Shards!” I cried out, channeling the ice energy in my blade, releasing a barrage of sharp, freezing projectiles that sliced through the air with deadly precision.

The shards spun through the air like frozen stars, aimed directly at Cracker, shattering his biscuit soldiers on contact.

I smirked, stepping forward with confidence. “I’m sure by now you know who I am,” I said, tilting my head, amusement in my tone.

Cracker smirked back, clearly unfazed. “You’re Princess Y/N from the Straw Hat Pirates,” he said coldly.

“In the flesh,” I responded with a mock bow, adding a bit of flair for good measure.

“You think you can humor me with your games?!” Cracker snarled, clearly annoyed.

“Humor? Maybe,” I teased, “but I’m also here to kick your ass.” I straightened up, my eyes narrowing as Cracker clapped his hands, summoning another pair of biscuit soldiers.

“Why not just face me yourself? Forget the biscuits,” I challenged as one of the soldiers lunged at me. I reacted quickly, doing a one-handed backflip, using the momentum to lift my right leg and crack the biscuit soldier's hardened exterior with a single blow.

“Now,” I said, smirking even wider, “are you ready to fight for real? Or are you compensating for something?”

“You’ve definitely been around Zoro way too long, Y/N!” Nami yelled from behind, exasperated.

I chuckled, glancing back at her briefly. “Maybe I have… or maybe it’s his lucky bandana I’m wearing.” I tugged at the bandana tied around my forehead with a wink before turning my full attention back to Cracker.

The electricity and ice continued to course through my blade, the tension rising as Cracker’s grin faded into a more serious expression. This fight was only just beginning.

Cracker’s smirk turned sinister as he eyed me. “Are you sure Straw Hat can’t back you up? Pretty foolish of you to attack me on your own,” he taunted.

I met his gaze without flinching. “I have a duty to protect my captain. If he’s down and I gotta step up, then so be it,” I said with determination. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. “Besides, it looks to me like you’re all talk and no action, biscuits.”

Cracker’s eyes darkened, his grin disappearing. “Kill her,” he commanded, his voice cold and deadly.

As the two biscuit soldiers lunged at me, their swords gleaming in the sunlight, I leaped into the air, dodging their attack with ease. While suspended mid-air, I tightened my grip on my sword and swung it with precision, summoning the power imbued within.

"King, I hope this is what you had in mind when teaching me this technique," I whispered to myself, my heart pounding with adrenaline.

"Ice Fang!" I shouted, feeling the blade's cold energy surge forward. A wave of sharp, icy spikes shot out from my sword, racing toward the biscuit soldiers. The ice spread across their bodies, freezing them solid in a matter of seconds.

Landing gracefully, I straightened up and smirked. The frozen soldiers stood motionless for a moment before they shattered into a thousand pieces with a loud crack, scattering across the battlefield.

My gaze shifted back to Cracker, who was now glaring at me with fury.

"You’re gonna have to do better than biscuits," I said, confident as ever, gripping my sword tighter. Suddenly, a biscuit soldier appeared behind me, catching me off guard. I faltered for a moment but quickly dodged as another one emerged from the ground. Cracker now stood tall, smirking.

"Not bad, you're rather quick on your feet," Cracker remarked. Before I could react, he appeared behind me. "But you left your back wide open!" He swung his sword, but I managed to block his attack, tumbling from the force. I scrambled to my feet, meeting his gaze.

"Is that son of Germa really that important to you?" he taunted.

"You don’t get it," I snapped, standing firm. "Sanji may be a lot of things, but he’s one of a kind. And if the roles were reversed, he would do everything in his power to protect us!"

"Touchy," Cracker sneered, laughing.

"Are we going to talk, or are you actually going to do something?" I shot back, smirking. "Again, not a good look for you, Mr. Overcompensating."

"I’m not too fond of pain," Cracker growled, lunging at me. "But I doubt you can stop me anyway!"

Switching my sword from my right to my left hand, I clenched my left fist and dashed past him, taunting, "Over here!" He spun around, but I dashed once more, using the momentum to strike. Clenching my right hand this time, I punched him in the abdomen, sending him flying a few feet away. I breathed heavily, trying to steady myself.

Cracker recovered quickly, lunging at me again. I raised my sword to block his attack, but his strikes were relentless, forcing me to fall back with each blow.

"You're quite a feisty one, aren’t you?" he said, amused.

"So I've been told," I muttered, struggling to catch my breath.

"Marriage or not," Cracker grinned, "I think I’m going to take my sweet time killing you." He raised his sword, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out. "Don’t you touch her!" Cracker was sent flying, crashing into the ground. Luffy stood there, glaring at him.

"Y/N is part of my crew!" Luffy declared. I let out a sigh of relief, collapsing onto my back for a brief moment.

"Sorry I took so long," Luffy said, flashing me a smile.

I got up and smiled back at him. "It's fine, biscuits all yours."

With a graceful leap, I landed back inside King Baum’s mouth. Nami immediately hugged me tightly.

"You scared me back there!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling.

"Sorry about that, Nami," I said softly, placing my sword behind me and falling to my knees, feeling the weight of the battle finally catch up to me.

"Cocky punk, it does take a lot of nerve to pick a fight with Mama," Cracker sneered, glaring at Luffy.

"Hey Nami, Y/N, have the trees protect you," Luffy said, never taking his eyes off Cracker. Nami nodded confidently, pulling out Lola’s Vivre Card with a grin, knowing it would render the homies powerless.

Cracker’s expression darkened. "Those traitorous trees and your friends are next, of course."

But Luffy wasn’t paying attention to Cracker's threats. Instead, his focus was on the burnt biscuits littering the battlefield. "That smells good," he muttered, his stomach growling.

"They’re still food!" Luffy’s eyes lit up. "Then that makes it easy!"

Nami smirked and pulled out a Weather Egg. "Rain Spark!" she called, unleashing rain from the sky. The biscuit soldiers, hard and durable, quickly softened under the downpour.

"I get it—you soften the biscuits!" I exclaimed, realizing Nami’s plan.

With the biscuits softened, Luffy wasted no time. He began tearing into them, eating each one with fervor as Cracker summoned more.

Cracker clapped his hands, summoning a fresh wave of biscuit soldiers, but they were no match for the hungry pirate. "Yum, these are good," Luffy said, his mouth full, barely slowing down between bites.

"That son of a birch is eating the biscuits!" Kingbaum exclaimed in disbelief. Every time Cracker created new soldiers, Luffy devoured them just as quickly.

"What is with this guy?!" Cracker yelled, frustration evident as Luffy ate the biscuits faster than they could attack.

"Luffy, let's fall back for a sec," Nami suggested, trying to pull him away from the endless biscuits.

"No way, I’m eating them all," Luffy replied stubbornly, his face determined.

Nami smirked, knowing exactly how to get his attention. "What if I told you I can make them more delicious?"

Luffy's eyes widened with excitement. "More delicious?! Let’s go!" He immediately followed us, dragging the biscuit soldiers along with him.

Minutes passed, and Luffy had eaten every biscuit Cracker could produce, leaving the Sweet General visibly rattled.

"Luffy is really putting in the work," I said to Nami, watching in awe as Luffy continued to devour the endless biscuit army.

"When it comes to food, there’s no stopping him," Nami laughed.

"You little punk!" Cracker shouted, incredulous. "How are you still eating?!"

"How much more can his stomach take?" Kingbaum whispered in disbelief. "He’s going to explode!"

"Looks like Cracker is starting to wear out," I said to Nami, eyeing the Sweet Commander as his exhaustion began to show. His movements were sluggish, and the frustration on his face was undeniable.

"As for you, King Baum," Cracker growled, his tone dripping with malice, "Mama is going to be furious about your betrayal."

He turned his attention back to me, his expression twisted with irritation. "This would’ve been over long ago if you hadn’t saved that insufferable woman," he sneered, clearly referring to me.

"My biscuit warriors are supposed to be invincible!" he yelled in frustration, pacing angrily. "And now look! That orange-haired girl reduced them into—into yummy crunchy goodness!" His voice cracked as he tried to keep up his pride.

I couldn’t help but smirk, taking full advantage of his moment of weakness. "Again with the biscuits," I said, stepping forward confidently. "You’re really overcompensating for something, Cracker. It’s okay to admit you can’t perform... well," I added with a teasing smile, placing my hand on the bandana Zoro had given me, now tied around my head. "Maybe it’s just not your day."

Cracker’s face flushed with anger as he gritted his teeth. "You insolent—"

"Stop your whining! This is a pirate battle!" Nami interrupted with a fierce glare. "So what if I found out your weakness? It doesn't mean you can take it out on my underlings!"

I burst out laughing. "Ooooh, underlings! Y'all just got dropped a tier, homies!" I teased, wiping away fake tears of laughter.

"What?! Underlings! Is that what we’re reduced to now?!" one of the homies exclaimed in disbelief.

"Is that a problem?" Nami asked coolly, waving Lola's Vivre Card in her hand.

"No, ma’am!" the homies responded, shrinking back under the power of the card.

Meanwhile, Luffy continued to stuff his face with biscuits, much to Cracker’s horror. "So you’re finally full!" Cracker shouted, desperate to end the madness.

"He’s just getting started!" Nami retorted, though even she was starting to look concerned. Luffy's belly was swollen beyond comprehension.

"Nami, he looks like he’s going to pop," I said, half concerned, half in awe of Luffy’s appetite.

"There’s no way he can eat more!" the homies yelled, eyes wide with shock.

"I don’t need you to throw up to win this!" Cracker bellowed, rushing toward Luffy with his sword raised. "I’ll slice you up!"

"Careful, Luffy!" I yelled, gripping my sword.

But Luffy, grinning from ear to ear, was unfazed. "Joke's on you! I’m stuffed with power! Muscle Balloon!" Luffy shouted, inflating his body further by blowing into his arm, swelling to an enormous size.

"What the hell?" Cracker stammered, suddenly backing away, realizing too late what was about to happen.

"Fourth Gear, go!" Luffy declared, his body transforming into an even bigger, more intimidating form. "I call this Tank Man: Stuffed Version!"

Cracker attempted to slash at Luffy, but his attack did nothing to the hulking form. "You’ve pushed me over the edge! It’s over—time to die!" Cracker screamed in frustration, trying desperately to land a blow on Luffy.

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light. Nami and I shielded our eyes. "Luffy!" we shouted, worried.

When the light faded, Cracker was being sucked into Luffy’s massive form. "Gomu Gomu no Cannonball!" Luffy roared, launching Cracker far into the distance, his biscuit soldiers crumbling into pieces.

"He did it!" Nami and I screamed in unison, hugging each other in excitement.

"Luffy, you alright?" Nami asked as we rushed over to him.

"Uh-huh," he groaned, clearly exhausted but triumphant.

"It looks like you’re shrinking," Nami observed, noticing Luffy’s body deflating slowly.

"That’s because Fourth Gear uses a lot of energy," Luffy explained, his voice tired but still full of satisfaction. He lay back, too full to move.

Suddenly, from behind a tree, Pound stepped out. "So, there you are!" Nami exclaimed.

"Pound! You were hiding this whole time?!" I yelled, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Kind of... I ran away so Cracker wouldn't kill me. I for sure thought you were going to lose," said Pound, rubbing his neck nervously.

"Wow, such faith," I said, rolling my eyes at his bluntness.

"Kind of blunt, don’t you think?" Nami added with a sigh.

"That was scary... but we won!" Nami exclaimed, her face lighting up with a grin as we both laughed and cheered in victory.

We glanced over at King Baum, Pound, and the other homies, who weren't exactly celebrating. "Would it kill you to cheer? We beat one of Big Mom's top fighters, after all!" Nami shouted, hands on her hips.

Pound, still looking frantic, responded, "Listen, you're in much more trouble than before! Once Mama's rage is awakened, there's no stopping her! In other words, you need to get the heck out of here before she finds out what you did to her boys!"

"She can get as mad as she wants; I don’t care! I’m the one who should be mad here!" Luffy grumbled from the ground, still too full to move. "How could Sanji leave without telling us why? All we got is a dumb note!"

"You're right, Captain," I said, feeling the frustration boil up inside me. "I'mma knock some sense into him for writing me that note and saying we were engaged!" My voice was laced with annoyance, fists clenched as I thought about the situation.

Nami smirked at me, her frustration mirroring mine. "Honestly, what was he thinking?" she muttered under her breath.

"We only made it this far using Pudding’s map, and no one has seen Pekoms," said Luffy. "We should have gotten Sanji by now, but he didn’t show up at the coast. I don’t know if they got lost or if this is a trap. Once Sanji gets married, he'll be part of Big Mom's crew, and it'll be too late. We have to get moving!"

Luffy, still struggling to get up from the ground, groaned in determination. "Cracker did say there was a ceremony today." "It’s still morning; we might have enough time to stop them!" Nami said, a glimmer of hope in her voice.

"Hey, tree! You know where the castle is?" Luffy called out.

King Baum hesitated before replying, "Yes…"

"Good, you're carrying me there!" Luffy declared with renewed energy.

"I refus—" King Baum started, but quickly clammed up when Nami pulled out the vivre card with a threatening smile.

"We’re taking Sanji back and stopping your wedding, Y/N," Luffy said firmly, his voice full of resolve.

"Oh, Y/N, here’s your bag," Nami said, suddenly remembering. She handed me my satchel, and I grinned.

"Thanks, Nami," I said, relieved to have it back. I pressed all three gemstones on my sword, watching as it shrunk before placing one of the blades inside the bag, the other securely fastened to my thigh halter.

With a final glance at the others, I gave a confident nod. "Alright, I’m ready."

Sanji POV…

As I entered the chariot, my heart felt heavier with every passing second. My mind raced, torn between the decision I was being forced to make and the things I truly cherished. Everything I loved… it was slipping away. The thought of being married made me sick to my core, but what choice did I have? If I wanted to save my friends... if I wanted to keep Zeff safe… if I wanted to keep y/n safe… I had no other option. This wasn’t just about me anymore.

I clenched my fists, the cursed bracelets around my wrists reminding me that my hands—my livelihood—were at stake. No matter what I wanted, one wrong move, and they’d be gone forever. I couldn’t even protect Y/N. I couldn’t stop Ichiji from marrying her. The memories flooded in—the Baratie, Zeff’s tough love, the day I met Y/N, her smile, our adventures with the crew. Every moment felt so distant now, as if they were slipping from my grasp, just like her.

Stuck between Niji and Yonji, I couldn’t move. Their smug faces on either side of me made my blood boil. I knew if I tried to make a break for it, they'd be on me in seconds, and the bracelets would do the rest of the damage. They’d already proven that.

Y/N POV..

"Well, we’re finally out of that hell of a forest," I sighed, resting my back on King Baum’s head as we moved through the open area. Luffy was resting as well, while Nami sat beside him, trying to catch her breath.

Suddenly, a familiar voice called out, "Nami! You guys! Can you hear me?!"

"It’s Chopper!" Nami exclaimed, holding up a small glass shard, which Chopper's voice came through. Relief and tension both surged through me. At least Chopper was okay.

"We’ve got a big problem! It’s Sanji! He’s heading to Big Mom right now!" Chopper’s frantic words echoed.

“Crap!” I muttered under my breath, heart pounding.

"We’re heading to the castle too!" Nami responded quickly, trying to gather more information.

"What about Brook and Pedro?" I asked, the worry creeping in. We hadn’t heard from them at all, and I couldn’t help but feel a gnawing anxiety over their safety.

"We haven’t heard from them at all," Nami added, glancing at me with shared concern.

Suddenly, Chopper’s voice broke into panic, his screams growing louder before the shard shattered in Nami’s hand.

“Is everything alright, Chopper?!” I yelled, but it was no use. The shard was broken. I stared at the pieces on the ground, feeling helpless. "How are they going to communicate now?" I muttered.

Nami knelt down, picking up one of the broken shards. "I hope they’re okay," she whispered softly.

"Poor Sanji..." Nami added, her voice filled with sorrow.

“These bastards have got another thing coming, that’s for sure,” I said through gritted teeth, clenching my right hand as I felt the familiar red electricity surge through me, a fierce wave of anger rolling over me.

Luffy, now back to normal size after shrinking down, muttered in his sleep, "Give me meat."

Nami and I exchanged amused glances. "Meat?!" I chuckled, shaking my head. "He would have meat dreams after eating those biscuits."

"Hey there! You’ve got good luck!" King Baum’s voice broke through, as he picked up speed.

"Why is that?" Nami asked.

"There they are," King Baum replied, pointing ahead.

"What?!" I exclaimed, my heart racing as I leaned forward.

"That’s Germa 66," he said, his voice filled with urgency.

“Is Sanji with them?” Luffy asked as he suddenly woke up, leaping off King Baum’s head and running ahead.

“Luffy, wait!” Nami yelled, but it was too late. He was already off.

"Sanji!" Nami and I shouted, waving as we saw him up ahead.

But just as we got close, Sanji… he kicked Luffy.

"Sanji, what the heck’s gotten into you?!" Nami screamed, her voice filled with shock.

"Sanji..." I whispered, my heart dropping as I stared at him in disbelief. What had happened to him? Why was he acting this way?

"Leave my sight, you bunch of lowlife pirates," Sanji spat, his voice cold and unrecognizable. "Make no mistake, I’ve always been a Vinsmoke, which makes me a prince of the Germa Kingdom."

I tensed, my mind reeling. "What the hell is he saying?" I whispered, feeling both disbelief and frustration boiling inside me. Both Nami and I stood frozen, watching the scene unfold before us.

Sanji continued, "I kept all of this a secret because knowing this would’ve made things harder for you."

I couldn’t take it anymore. Standing up, I slowly took off Zoro’s bandana from my head, folding it carefully and placing it into my satchel, along with one of my blades and my sword. "Nami, I leave this with you," I said, my voice steady but filled with determination.

“What are you…?” Nami looked at me, confused and concerned.

"Just make sure no one takes it, please. And if they do… well, they’ll be in for a surprise," I added, smirking slightly despite the weight of the moment. "Can you do that for me, Nami?" I asked, looking at her intently, knowing this was something important for me to trust her with.

Nami nodded, still looking unsure of my next move. Before I could even say anything more, Sanji's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"It’s noble of you to come all the way over here and get me, but you’ve wasted your time. I’m not leaving. I’ve already forgotten your name," he said coldly, every word sharper than the last.

His words felt like a punch in the gut, fueling the anger already burning inside me. My heart pounded in my chest, disbelief turning to frustration and rage. This wasn’t the Sanji I knew, the Sanji who cared about his friends, about us.

“What a liar,” Luffy yelled, his frustration matching my own. “You think I’m gonna buy that?!”

The tension in the air was suffocating, and I could feel the red electricity sparking through my fingertips again. My patience was at its limit. Sanji's words cut deep, but I wasn’t about to let him walk away so easily, especially not with those lies.

Sanji POV… (Play La Media Vuelta By Luis Miguel here) 

Stuck between Niji and Yonji, I felt like I was trapped in a cage. Their smug expressions were infuriating, and my blood boiled at the sight of them. I knew any attempt to escape would be met with swift punishment, and these cursed bracelets would make sure of that. Just the thought of them made my fists clench tighter.

Suddenly, a familiar voice broke through the chaos. "Hey! Sanji!" I turned my head, eyes widening in disbelief as I saw Luffy charging forward with with a giant tree. 

“that idiot managed to make it to Whole Cake Island?! “What’s with that tree?!” yelled Yonji, incredulous.

"Sanji!" Nami called out, waving her arms with a look of determination. “We finally made it! I was afraid we’d be too late!”

Her voice sent a jolt of relief through me, but it quickly faded when I noticed the way Niji and Yonji's eyes lit up at the sight of y/n. Their smugness only grew, and the protective instinct within me flared.

“There’s my beloved,” Ichiji said, his eyes heart-shaped as he gazed at Y/N, which made my blood boil even more.

“Ichiji, your wife’s here,” Yonji added, still eyeing Y/N, and I wanted nothing more than to gauge their eyes out for the way they were looking at her.

The situation felt like a ticking time bomb. I had to keep them safe. “What are they doing here?” I muttered, panic rising in my throat.

“How amusing, that’s Straw Hat Luffy,” Judge remarked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Hey! We came here to pick you up!” Luffy shouted, tipping over the calicoat as he stumbled. “You said you’d be back, but I didn’t want to wait. You know me. I was going to come with just Y/N, but it turned into a whole thing!”

My mind raced, battling between relief and fear. I couldn’t let them get caught up in this mess. I glanced at my cuffs, knowing that if I made a break for it, they would explode, and I couldn’t risk that.

“Zoro took a team and headed to the land of Wano,” Luffy continued, unaware of the suffocating tension surrounding us.

“And what’s this I hear? You’re engaged to Y/N! Why didn’t you tell us? We could have done something back at the Sunny!” His words hit me like a wave of ice-cold water.

Luffy, Y/N, Nami… please forgive me… I thought, the weight of my helplessness crushing down on me. In an instant, I made my decision. I couldn’t let them get any closer to this danger.

“Sanji, what the heck’s gotten into you?!” Nami shouted, disbelief etched across her face. I could see the hurt in her eyes, and it twisted my heart even more.

“Leave my sight, you bunch of low-class pirates!” I spat, my voice heavy with disdain. “Make no mistake, I’ve always been a Vinsmoke, which makes me a prince of the Germa Kingdom. I kept all this a secret from you because knowing this would have made things harder.”

Luffy’s stunned expression made me feel even worse, but I pushed on. “As you can see, there’s a clear difference in our standings now. If I stay here, I’ll have all the servants, soldiers, and riches I could ever dream of.” Each word felt like daggers in my chest, but I had to make them believe I meant it.

The way Nami flinched at my words was like a punch to the gut. I was losing them—losing everything I cared about. But I had to protect them. I had to protect Y/N, even if it meant sacrificing my own heart.

“Sanji…” I heard Y/N whisper, her voice cracking as she processed my betrayal. I couldn't look at her; I was afraid of what I might see. Would she understand? Would she forgive me for playing this role?

Inside, I was trembling. I was stuck between wanting to protect them and the cold, harsh reality of my situation. “If I stay here, I’ll have all the servants, soldiers, and riches I could ever dream of. What more could I want?” I sneered, my voice laced with disdain.

“So I could go to that crappy ship with you and your friends and go on a dumb adventure,” I sneered, forcing a smirk that felt more like a grimace. “Or I can stay right here and marry the beautiful daughter of a wealthy and powerful emperor. Now, which of those would make me happier?” I took a deep breath, preparing to drive the final nail in the coffin. “Here, I’ll spell it out: I just wrote that note to get you off my back.”

“Yeah? Well, what about my note, Sanji?” The voice was unmistakable, cutting through the tension like a knife. Y/N came down from the tree, her eyes ablaze with anger. If looks could kill, I’d be dead by now.

“You wrote some bold statements on my note. Here, I even have it.” She pulled it out from her chest, and my heart sank. I couldn’t bear to look at her, knowing I had shattered everything.

As she stood there, I took in her appearance for the first time. Behind the rage, I could see the signs of her struggle. Her white dress was covered in dirt, her sleeve torn off, and deep scratches marred her legs. But she still looked beautiful—my princess, my everything.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for what I’m about to say,” I thought, wishing I could take it all back. I wanted to hold her, to tell her it was all a lie, that I would never marry Pudding. I wanted to confess how I felt about her, to explain that her reckless plan—her being in Dressrosa and me sailing here—almost cost me my sanity.

I wanted to tell her she was the only one I wanted to be with, that I regretted every moment I didn’t fight for her. I wanted to prove I was the man she deserved, especially after that disaster back on Fishman Island.

But instead, I clenched my fists and said the words that would cut deeper than any blade: “You mean absolutely nothing to me.”

Every syllable felt like poison as it left my mouth, and I hated myself for it. I saw her expression shift, hurt washing over her features. It was a look I knew I’d never forget. But I had to keep my distance, keep her safe. And as much as it broke me, I had to see this through. 

“You mean absolutely nothing to me,” I repeated, my voice cold, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat.

Nami’s voice cut through the tension like a lightning bolt. “Say the truth, Sanji! That wasn’t what you said to Pudding!”

The air around us grew thick with tension, and I could see Y/N tense at Nami’s words, her eyes flashing with uncertainty and pain.

“I told her that I didn’t care about Y/N,” I said, each word a betrayal I loathed, “and that I didn’t love her.” I hated myself for saying it, each syllable a dagger to my own heart.

“Stop lying!” Nami shouted, her voice filled with desperation.

I glanced over at Y/N, and she raised her hand, turning toward Nami with a broken smile. “It’s okay, Nami,” she said softly, but I could see the pain etched in her features, the tears threatening to spill over. I wanted to wipe them away, to tell her that none of it was true, that I did love her, that she was my princess, and that we were engaged. I didn’t care if that part was a lie; the love I felt for Y/N was as real as the air I breathed.

“You know,” she began, her voice steady but strained, “you can insult me or try to convince me that what you’re saying is true, but I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me.” Her gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unwavering. “Tell me you want this… tell me you hate me! I want to hear it from your mouth! Tell me you hate me, obliterate me with your words; I don’t care! Tell me that I mean nothing to you once again, that you want to be with Pudding and live that fantasy of a life. Tell me that you found a love that understands you and loves you more than anyone! And if that is truly what you want, and you can look me in the eyes and say it, I will turn around, and I will be gone with the sun by dusk.”

Her words hit me like a tsunami, each one crashing into me, suffocating me. I opened my mouth to respond, but all I could manage was, “I…”

“Tell me now!” she yelled, the pain in her voice laced with desperation as her body was surrounded by an aura of red electricity, crackling in tune with her emotions.

What is this? I thought, my heart racing. I was caught in the whirlwind of my own lies and her heartache, a maelstrom that threatened to tear us both apart. Her gaze pierced through me, and I could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she waited for my response, and it crushed me further.

I was losing her, losing everything, and yet, here I was, shackled by my own choices, unable to break free. I wanted to scream the truth, to confess everything—to tell her how much she meant to me. But the weight of my lies held me down, suffocating the words in my throat. I was drowning in the consequences of my actions.

The electricity around Y/N crackled even more fiercely, her hurt and fury tangible. Every second I remained silent was another moment she drifted further away from me. This was it. This was the moment she would leave if I didn’t speak the truth.

But I couldn’t. My lips trembled, but the words never came.