#and will get herself into it without a plan

[crustyfloor]

Mizi's narration throughout Karma is so packed, I'd like to focus specifically on the part where Mizi is addressing HyunA and revealing her secret about Sua for a moment...

The part of this sequence that gets to me the most is Sua secretly giving Mizi more of her own lines to sing, it's actually so calculated, I want to throw up. Even though they were aiming to get a tie, this re-establishes that Sua knew for certain that wouldn't happen, didn't tell Mizi a thing about it, and made it so that Mizi would definitely get more points for stage presence rather than Sua. Mizi directly admits that she knew what Sua was up to, that she was essentially orchestrating her own death, yet didn't say anything about it, and continued to act as oblivious as Sua thought she was

Mizi's narration in this section reiterates the facade, her guilt, and her distorted image of herself. In The True Face comic, Mizi's own guilt manifested and admonished her for these very actions, for this very willful ignorance that allowed Sua to write her own doom, Mizi convinced herself that she was a selfish person who led all of her friends to their deaths because she didn't care for them enough, and I think this line of thinking in her monologue reflects that. But once again, even though Mizi didn't act, it's not as if she truly didn't care about Sua enough

It's essential to acknowledge that the nature of every character is different and unique to them. Sua didn't value her own life, to her, Mizi was her world, the only reason she could be happy in this world, and she would do anything to keep that safe haven, Sua was willing to give everything, even her life so that she wouldn't have to suffer without Mizi by her side.

She addresses HyunA in this line- "I know my love was different from yours." It's her comparing HyunA's selfless, self-sacrificial love to Mizi's own perceived selfishness. HyunA is willing to put her life on the line for Luka. HyunA would even persevere for others, but Mizi couldn't do the same. But that doesn't make her love for Sua insincere, that's for certain. Sometimes human love can't be measured by their actions alone; noble love is often romanticized, but humans will be selfish. Mizi wasn't willing to sabotage Sua's plan to avoid her death because -("If you had seen the look on her face too, you wouldn't be able to judge me either") in that scene where Sua saved Mizi from dying, Mizi could understand that if she sacrificed herself in the future, if she did die in that moment, Sua would be devastated living in grief.

The thing is, Mizi wanted to die, but the moment she saw Sua's face break when she caught her before she could fall, her despair at the prospect that she could've lost Mizi just like that, she knew Sua wouldn't be able to bear it. So Mizi couldn't bring herself to do that to her. That much convinced Mizi to not go through with it. And because of this, she turned a blind eye to what Sua was doing behind her back, even if it meant Sua would die. Mizi being willing to do that doesn't mean she didn't love Sua enough, doesn't mean she didn't care. It's so twisted- I think they cared so much for each other in ways that kept themselves at peace that they were blinded by it, they deceive each other into a false sense of security to keep the other close and safe, not wanting to take the risk of upsetting/changing the other in fear of changing the connection between them and ultimately losing each other-- the only comfort and solace they could cling to in that world. It's akin to a selfish sense of self-preservation and care, for Mizi to keep quiet and follow Sua's lead despite what she knows, and how much she truly worries and wanted to do something, just so that Sua wouldn't have to live that visceral fear, maybe on the off-chance that they could both survive round 1 like they dreamed, they could avoid it. Yet that fear of loneliness and pain they shared, that they were trying to escape from in each other, was given back to Mizi after Sua's death, while doing the very thing she wanted to do to keep Sua from suffering

[paxaz535]

SLOW SIMMER - FIVE

dallas!paige x privatechef!azzi

note : here it is! sorry for the wait lol

—————————-

azzi woke up to a ton of notifications lighting up her phone. she didn’t like being woken up by people blowing her up, but something made her check anyway.

paige has added you to a group!

lake 💦

dijonai

you all ready?

arike

girl it’s about nine in the morning

dijonai

so?

maddy

people are still sleeping

dijonai

azzi !!

hey girl

you up?

azzi

unfortunately

lyss

real

azzi decided to get up and get herself ready for the day, packing a few things for the lake.

she went to the kitchen after finishing her business.

paige

wait we meeting at your house right nai?

dijonai

yes

azzi

where even is this lake?

lyss

that’s actually a great question

dijonai

😭 y’all swear i don’t plan

it’s like 35-40 mins out

calm vibes, not crowded

maddy

i better not get bit by a mosquito the size of a tennis ball again

arike

girl that was one time

paige

azzi do you wanna ride with me? or you rollin with nai again

azzi

i’ll go with you

i gotta bring all the food stuff anyway

dijonai

as long as the food is there, idc who she ride with

lyss

period

maddy

we need to get a speaker this time

no weak phone-in-a-cup playlist

paige

i got it, don’t worry

arike

azzi just don’t forget the sandwiches

i been thinking about them since thursday

azzi

oh i didn’t forget

i’m already up and prepping 😭

dijonai

chef fudd in the building

paige

chef fudd in the kitchen

get it right

azzi smiled at the screen, shaking her head as she started pulling out ingredients.

azzi had her music playing low in the background—some soft r&b to keep her mood right as she moved around the kitchen. her bonnet was still on, slippers dragging across the tile as she packed up her cooler with care.

she had made the sandwiches fresh:

turkey and provolone with garlic aioli, caprese with a balsamic glaze, and a few vegan options just in case. fruit skewers sat in their own little container. chips were packed. and of course, she had to throw in some cookies she baked last night.

it was giving… picnic mom energy. and she didn’t even mind.

just as she zipped up the last cooler bag, she heard the familiar shuffle of footsteps coming from down the hall. paige.

“damn, you been up,” the blonde yawned as she rubbed her eyes.

“you told me y’all were meeting at dijonai’s at ten. it’s 9:12,” azzi said, not even looking up as she rearranged things on the counter.

“yeah but i didn’t expect you to be this… advanced,” paige replied, making her way toward the fridge.

“i don’t play about food. that’s like, my whole job,” azzi said with a small smirk.

paige opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “you need help carrying all this to the car?”

“you offering or just trying to be polite?”

“a little of both,” paige grinned.

azzi laughed and handed her one of the cooler bags. “let’s go then.”

as they made their way out the apartment, paige looked over at azzi—braids still tied up, oversized hoodie and shorts, gold hoops glinting in the light.

“you always this productive before ten a.m.?” she asked, genuinely curious.

azzi shrugged. “only when i care about who i’m feeding.”

paige raised a brow but didn’t say anything—just nodded, lips twitching into a smile as she opened the trunk.

it was gonna be a good day.

even paige could feel it.

as they loaded the car, the morning sun was already warming up the pavement. azzi tucked the sandwich trays between the coolers while paige grabbed the speaker and a few folded towels she’d promised to bring.

“you sure you don’t need to change?” paige asked, eyeing azzi’s comfy outfit.

“nah,” azzi smiled. “i brought a change of clothes. i’ll get dressed once we get there.”

paige nodded. “smart.”

they got in the car, paige starting the engine as azzi pulled out her phone to send a quick text in the group chat.

azzi

on the way 🚗

don’t start talking shit without me

dijonai

we would never

arike

lies. i already got a few things to say about your hoodie

lyss

i said the same thing 😭

dijonai

it’s literally cute chill wear. leave her alone

maddy

some of y’all wore sweats to brunch last week let’s not judge

dijonai

EXACTLY

i just texted y’all the location again just in case

paige

got it

lyss

bring sunscreen this time, i’m not playing

arike

this is directed at maddy but okay

paige glanced over as azzi chuckled at her phone.

“they’re a mess,” the chef muttered, screen lighting up with more replies.

“you get used to it,” paige said, her hands relaxed on the wheel. “or maybe you just end up becoming part of the mess.”

azzi looked over at her. “maybe i already am.”

paige smiled, just a little.

“good.”

the ride continued in peaceful silence, music humming low between them.

azzi looked out the window, the city slowly turning to fields and water.

this was new.

this was soft.

this was… something.

she didn’t know what yet.

but it didn’t feel like nothing.

-after meeting at nai’s house-

they pulled into the gravel parking lot of the lake spot around 10:02.

“we’re early?” azzi asked, surprised as she glanced at the dashboard clock.

“miracles happen,” paige replied, unbuckling her seatbelt. “they’ll probably pull up loud and chaotic in the next five minutes.”

azzi laughed softly, already opening her door. “that sounds about right.”

the lake was quiet for now—water glistening, trees swaying, and the little picnic area already shaded under a big oak tree. it was perfect. azzi opened the trunk and started grabbing the bags while paige laid out the big blanket they brought, setting the speaker to the side.

“we should’ve brought chairs,” azzi muttered, organizing the food near the center of the blanket.

“we did,” paige smirked, pointing to a folded set stashed in the trunk. “you thought i wouldn’t come prepared?”

“okay, bueckers,” azzi nodded, impressed. “look at you being all functional.”

before paige could get a comeback out, a car horn beeped twice.

they turned around just in time to see dijonai’s car pulling in—music already thumping.

“here they come,” paige sighed with a grin.

the car doors flew open, and chaos spilled out: arike jumping out with her crocs already halfway off, lyss stretching like she just got off a six-hour flight, and maddy walking up with a portable fan and iced coffee in hand.

“chef fudd in the building!” dijonai shouted, arms out as she approached. “and she’s looking like a picnic snack and the whole damn meal.”

azzi shook her head, blushing as she hugged her. “you’re too much.”

“never enough,” dijonai winked before helping unload the rest of the car. “tell me you brought those turkey sandwiches.”

“of course i did,” azzi replied. “and the caprese ones too.”

“god bless you.”

“who made the cookies?” maddy asked, peeking into the container as she sat down.

“me.”

“you made these?” her eyes widened. “yeah… i’m proposing by sunset.”

paige just laughed, already setting up the speaker. “i told y’all.”

lyss plopped down next to arike, grabbing a fruit skewer. “chef fudd might be the best decision you ever made, bueckers.”

paige’s eyes flicked to azzi.

“don’t i know it.”

azzi pretended not to hear that—

but the way her stomach flipped?

yeah. she definitely did.

“we left at the same time, how come yall are now just getting here?” paige asked as she looked at dijonai. the girl looked down at her shoe, a playful nervous expression on her face. “i needed gas.”

paige just shook her head. “typical nai,”

“well come on, let’s get this started.” arike spoke.

-

the lake day unfolded like something out of a dream.

music playing low, food laid out perfectly, the sun warm but not overwhelming. azzi had changed into some black biker shorts and a cropped tank, still modest, still cute. her gold hoops stayed in, glinting when the sunlight hit just right.

she sat under the tree with maddy and dijonai, the three of them talking like they’d known each other for years.

“so wait, you really be up before the sun every day?” maddy asked, genuinely curious.

“not every day,” azzi laughed. “just the days i’m cooking—which, yeah, ends up being most of them.”

“nah, that’s discipline. i can barely get outta bed for morning lift,” dijonai added, shaking her head. “you built different.”

paige was nearby, lounging back on one of the fold-out chairs, a water bottle pressed to her cheek to cool off. she kept glancing over, just subtly, as azzi talked. there was something about seeing her like this—comfortable, a little sun-kissed, smiling easily with her friends.

not her friends. not yet.

but paige could feel the shift happening.

they were becoming something.

arike broke the calm by tossing a grape at paige. “yo. you gonna get in the water or just sit there like somebody’s bodyguard?”

“i’m observing,” paige replied, dryly. “and supervising. very important role.”

lyss was already wading in up to her calves. “coward behavior.”

“nah,” dijonai called out. “i feel her. not everyone tryna get lake water in places it don’t belong.”

“okay but—azzi?” arike called out. “you swimming?”

azzi looked up, surprised to be called on like she was the new kid in class.

“uh… maybe later.”

“i’m calling that a yes,” arike smirked, already splashing lyss.

paige sat up a little, watching azzi brush a braid behind her ear and smile at the chaos. she stood slowly, walked over to where paige was sitting, and nudged her with her foot.

“you good?”

paige nodded. “you look like you’re having fun.”

“i am,” azzi said. “your people are cool.”

paige looked up at her, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“you are too.”

that made azzi freeze for just a second.

not visibly. not enough for anyone to catch.

but she felt it.

the compliment hung in the air, unspoken weight behind it.

“thanks,” she said finally, her voice softer.

paige nodded once, letting it sit.

“you ever think about staying in dallas long-term?” she asked suddenly, voice low.

azzi looked at her, studying her expression.

“why?” she asked.

paige shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes. “just wondering.”

azzi tilted her head, playful but still serious. “maybe i will.”

paige grinned. “good.”

and just like that—

the silence between them said everything else.

the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting gold across the lake’s surface. a few of the girls were still in the water, lyss doing lazy backstrokes while arike and dijonai floated nearby on inflatable loungers they’d somehow pulled out of the trunk.

azzi was sitting cross-legged on the picnic blanket now, drying her legs with a small towel after finally giving in and wading into the water with maddy for a bit. her curls were slightly damp around the edges of her hairline, but her makeup had somehow survived. she reached for a grape, glancing up when she noticed paige walking back toward her with two bottles of water in hand.

“you finally moved?” azzi teased, smiling up at her.

“i was conserving energy,” paige replied, handing her one of the bottles. “supervising takes a lot out of me.”

azzi laughed softly, taking the bottle with a nod. “thanks.”

they sat in a light silence for a few moments, watching the others play and yell over some floating game lyss made up. azzi glanced at paige from the corner of her eye.

“you always like this?” she asked quietly. “watching more than jumping in?”

paige’s brows lifted slightly. “that obvious?”

“only a little.”

paige leaned back on her palms, stretching her legs out in front of her. “i don’t know. sometimes i just like… watching people be happy. it feels good to have quiet moments like this, you know?”

azzi looked at her for a moment, expression unreadable. then she nodded.

“yeah. i get that.”

paige turned to face her a little more directly. “but if you want me to start cannonballing into the lake next time, i’ll do it.”

“don’t tempt me,” azzi grinned. “i might hold you to that.”

paige smiled back, quiet again for a beat. the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled.

“they like you, by the way,” she said suddenly.

“who?” azzi asked.

“the girls. my team. they really like you.”

azzi looked down, biting back a shy smile. “they’re cool. they made me feel like i’ve known them longer than a week.”

“i’m glad,” paige replied, more serious now. “i didn’t wanna bring you into this and make you feel weird or… out of place.”

“you didn’t,” azzi said quickly. “i feel good here.”

paige nodded once. “good.”

the moment lingered between them—light but full, like there was something more under the surface they were both too careful to name.

then, from the water:

“YO, P! AZZI! COME SETTLE THIS!” lyss shouted. “WHO WON THE RACE? BE HONEST.”

“BECAUSE I KNOW IT WASN’T YOU!” arike hollered.

paige groaned. “here we go.”

azzi laughed, already standing and brushing off her shorts.

“you ready, supervisor?”

paige stood, eyes still on her.

“yeah. let’s go save the day.”

and they did—together.

softly. slowly.

maybe even unknowingly falling into something neither one of them was fully ready to admit just yet.

—

after stepping off the blanket and heading toward the lake’s edge, azzi felt the splash of water hit her ankle before she even got close.

“oh, we throwing water now?” she called out with a raised brow.

“you’re guilty by association,” arike said with a grin, floating in her tube like a villain in a summer movie. “and since paige be playin’ referee, you both catching strays.”

paige rolled her eyes. “this is why i stayed on land.”

“too late now!” lyss yelled before tossing another wave in their direction.

azzi yelped, stepping behind paige. “oh nah, you’re gonna have to take that one.”

“caption: bueckers caught simping at the lake,” she muttered with a smirk.

maddy stood next to her sipping a smoothie, watching the way paige kept glancing at azzi when she thought nobody noticed.

“yeah,” maddy said, leaning slightly toward her. “she gone.”

dijonai grinned wide. “so gone.”

—

later, as the sun began to dip behind the trees and the girls packed up their things, azzi sat at the back of dijonai’s car, towel draped over her shoulders and her braids slightly puffed from the lake water.

paige walked up beside her, a zip-up hoodie in one hand.

“here,” she said, holding it out.

“what’s this for?” azzi asked, eyeing it with a smile.

“in case you get cold. it’s already kinda chilly out.”

azzi took it, her fingers brushing paige’s for just a second.

“thanks,” she said softly, slipping it on. it was a little big on her. cozy. smelled like fresh linen and maybe even a little coconut.

“looks better on you anyway,” paige said quietly, almost under her breath.

they said their goodbyes slowly, the kind that came with soft yawns and half-hugs and promises to send the pictures dijonai wouldn’t stop taking.

paige had parked a little farther down the road, away from the cluster of cars. azzi walked beside her, the zip-up hoodie still on her shoulders, her towel slung across her arm. they were quiet for a second, the only sound being the hum of cicadas and the soft scuff of crocs on gravel.

“that was actually fun,” azzi finally said, glancing over.

“you sound surprised,” paige replied, smirking as she unlocked the car.

“a little. i didn’t think a random lake day with five girls i barely knew was gonna be this chill.”

“well,” paige said as she opened her door, “we’re good people.”

“eh, debatable,” azzi teased, sliding into the passenger seat.

paige looked over at her, then shook her head with a smile before starting the car. the drive was quiet at first, windows slightly down, the air warm but bearable. a playlist was running on low volume—some brent, some sza, something mellow enough to match the way the day felt.

azzi rested her head against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a second. paige glanced at her out the corner of her eye.

“you tired?”

“no, just thinking,” azzi mumbled, eyes still closed.

“about what?”

azzi opened one eye, looked at her. “you ask a lot of questions.”

“you don’t gotta answer.”

“i don’t mind.”

paige waited. azzi inhaled slow before turning her head to face her fully.

“i think it’s just weird, in a good way, how fast i feel comfortable around you.”

paige’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. she didn’t speak right away, just let the words sit in the air for a beat.

“same,” she finally said, her voice low. “it’s easy with you.”

azzi smiled to herself, a soft laugh escaping her lips.

“you’re lucky you can cook,” paige added.

“i thought i was charming.”

“you are. but food definitely boosted your rating.”

they both laughed, the car turning down familiar streets now. the sky above was getting darker, painted in shades of deep orange and sleepy blues.

by the time they got to the apartment, neither of them moved to get out right away. azzi unbuckled her seatbelt but stayed seated, her fingers playing with the edge of the hoodie sleeve.

“thanks for inviting me,” she said. “for real.”

paige looked at her, her voice quiet. “thanks for coming.”

azzi finally got out, paige following behind her. and even though the day was over, and the lake was miles behind them—

the warmth still lingered.

just like the way azzi kept paige’s hoodie on all night.

just like the way paige kept watching her when she thought she wasn’t looking.

azzi went to her room and immediately started to unwind, pulling out clothes and getting ready for a shower. just as she tossed her towel over her shoulder, her phone buzzed.

mom

you seem to be having fun hence no check-ins yet

azzi laughed at her mom’s message before typing back:

azzi

yes i have been having fun actually

mom

not too much… right?

azzi

ew mom stop

no

mom

you know how i am

how are you though?

azzi

i’m doing really good so far

paige is welcoming

me, her and a few of her teammates went to a lake today

mom

that sounds good honey

i’m glad you’re getting comfortable

azzi smiled at her phone, letting herself breathe a little easier. sometimes her mom’s check-ins could be a lot, but deep down, she knew it came from love. and honestly… it was nice to feel missed.

her thumbs moved quickly across the screen:

azzi

yeah i’m trying to

it’s a little weird still

but a good weird

mom

good weird is still good

that girl better be treating you right

i’ll come to texas if she not

azzi laughed again, shaking her head as she grabbed her towel and slid her phone onto the counter.

azzi

she’s treating me fine

don’t start

mom

mmhmm

i’m watching though 👀

azzi chuckled to herself, setting the phone down and walking toward the bathroom. she caught her reflection in the mirror and paused for a second—thinking back to the car ride, the soft music, the way paige looked at her like she was familiar.

whatever this was, it was slow.

it was new.

and even if azzi didn’t want to admit it out loud just yet—

it felt like it was building into something.

she stepped into the shower, warm water washing away the lake, the sun, and the weight of the long day—

but not the smile that was still stuck on her face.

-

paige woke up to the smell of breakfast and immediately smiled. azzi was really outdoing herself��paige loved it, though.

she stretched slowly, her body still sore from yesterday’s lake trip, but the aroma of food was enough to get her out of bed. it was warm, comforting, and familiar at this point… almost like home.

she pulled on a hoodie and padded out of her room, rubbing her eyes.

“you’re spoiling me,” she said, voice still raspy from sleep.

azzi looked over her shoulder, grinning. “good morning to you too.”

paige smirked, leaning against the counter. “seriously. this smells crazy.”

“you say that every morning.”

“and i mean it every morning.”

azzi laughed softly, turning her attention back to the stove. paige watched her for a moment—hair up, movements fluid, hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the bracelet paige hadn’t noticed before.

damn.

“you want coffee?” azzi asked without turning.

“please,” paige replied. “and maybe a permanent contract.”

azzi looked back at her, eyebrow raised. “for what?”

“you. living here. feeding me forever.”

“hmm… we’ll see,” azzi teased, plating the eggs.

paige smiled, sitting down at the island like she always did.

yeah. she could get used to this.

in fact, she already was.

paige sat with her elbows on the island, eyes following azzi’s every move like she was watching a show that never got boring.

“what’s on the menu today, chef?” she asked, chin resting in her hand.

“simple,” azzi said as she slid a plate in front of her. “cheesy eggs, turkey bacon, toast with honey butter, and fruit. didn’t wanna do too much today.”

“this is doing enough,” paige mumbled, already taking a bite. she closed her eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. “god… marry me.”

azzi laughed as she poured the coffee. “you can’t keep proposing every time i feed you.”

“and yet, here we are,” paige replied, sipping her coffee like she wasn’t dead serious.

they ate in easy silence for a moment, only broken by the sound of silverware and the light music azzi had playing from the kitchen speaker.

paige glanced at her again. “so what’s on your agenda today?”

azzi shrugged. “i might run to the store later. clean up. prep for dinner. i don’t know, whatever needs doing.”

paige nodded slowly, then cleared her throat. “wanna chill after?”

azzi looked up at her, a bit surprised. “like… chill how?”

paige smirked. “like movie, snacks, couch. you and me. maybe some shit-talking if the movie sucks.”

azzi smiled behind her coffee mug. “you asking me out, bueckers?”

“nah,” paige said, eyes locked on hers. “just trying to keep the chef happy.”

“hmm. okay then,” azzi replied softly, her cheeks warm. “movie night it is.”

and just like that, something quiet sparked between them again—tucked between toast and turkey bacon and two people pretending like it was just breakfast.

but they both felt it.

and neither of them wanted to name it just yet.

-

“you’re back!”

azzi looked up and saw the two girls she came across last time she was here. she smiled immediately. they seemed sweet—genuine, kind-hearted.

“caroline and allie… right?”

she was nervous she’d mess up their names, but the second allie gasped, she knew she got it right.

“yes! you remembered, oh my gosh.” allie beamed, eyes wide with excitement.

azzi let out a small breath of relief, laughing softly. “i was hoping i did. would’ve been awkward if i didn’t.”

caroline grinned as she leaned over the counter. “we’ve literally been talking about your food nonstop. i even tried to remake that salmon dish you posted the other day.”

azzi raised her brows. “oh yeah? how’d it come out?”

“umm… edible,” caroline said, laughing. “not you level, but i tried.”

“points for effort,” azzi joked, setting her basket down.

“so,” allie started, eyes twinkling, “what’s on the menu this week?”

“that depends,” azzi said, glancing at her list. “whatever this cart tells me by the end of the aisle.”

they all laughed, falling into easy conversation—like they’d known each other for longer than just two grocery store run-ins. and for once, azzi didn’t mind the attention.

allie looked down nervously before asking, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. she knew it was a long shot, but she was never the type to hold back.

“is there any way we can stay in contact?”

azzi blinked, caught slightly off guard. she looked at allie, then at caroline, and thought for a moment.

like she said earlier, they seemed genuine. warm. sweet. and honestly… she needed more friends out here in dallas. it wouldn’t hurt to get to know them a little better.

“yeah, sure,” she said softly, pulling out her phone.

azzi opened instagram and started scrolling through her followers, quickly searching for an allie and caroline. it didn’t take long—she recognized their profile pictures.

both girls felt their phones buzz and looked down, jaws practically dropping when they saw the notification.

azzi fudd followed you back.

they tried so hard not to scream in the middle of the store, exchanging wide-eyed looks instead.

“no way,” caroline whispered.

“this is the best day ever,” allie muttered, clutching her phone like it might disappear.

azzi smiled as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “don’t be weird in my dms and we’ll be good.”

“never,” caroline promised, holding a hand over her heart.

“seriously,” allie added, grinning. “thank you, azzi.”

“of course,” she said, pushing her cart toward the next aisle. “i’ll see y’all around.”

they stood frozen for a second, watching her walk off like they just met a celebrity. because honestly? they kinda did.

-

paige heard the door unlock and peeked over the couch. “chef’s back,” she called out, setting her phone down as azzi walked in with three bags in her hands.

“and the chef comes bearing gifts,” azzi responded, kicking the door shut behind her.

“did you buy the whole store?” paige teased as she got up to help, grabbing two of the lighter bags from her hands.

“almost,” azzi said with a shrug. “dallas tax.”

they both set the bags on the counter. paige started peeking inside one, curious. “you didn’t forget the honey butter, right?”

“top priority,” azzi said, pulling it out and handing it to her.

“you’re already my favorite person,” paige muttered, inspecting the label like it was gold.

as azzi unloaded, paige suddenly paused, pulling something out with raised brows. “uh… why is there a tub of strawberry mochi ice cream in here?”

azzi didn’t look up. “you like mochi, right?”

paige blinked. “i mean, yeah… but i’ve never told you that.”

azzi finally glanced her way with a small smirk. “you didn’t have to.”

paige stood there for a moment, staring at her. something about azzi’s answer made her chest feel warm.

“…okay, that was smooth.”

“i try.”

“you trying to get bonus points or something?”

“maybe.”

paige rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. she gently placed the mochi back into the freezer, stealing one last glance at the girl who somehow made grocery runs feel like flirting.

azzi was trying out a new recipe, and like always, she had her phone propped up on the counter, already recording. whenever she tested something new, she liked to post the process—give her followers a peek behind the scenes.

but this wasn’t her kitchen.

this was someone else’s.

specifically, paige bueckers’ kitchen.

and for some reason, that fact weighed heavier today.

she stood quietly, her hands halfway through prepping the ingredients, her face pulled into that familiar thinking expression.

“you okay?”

she looked up, startled slightly at the soft voice.

paige stood across from her, leaning against the counter, a gentle crease between her brows. concern, subtle but present.

azzi gave a small, almost embarrassed smile. “yeah. i need to talk to you,” she said, setting the knife down.

paige’s posture straightened just a bit. “about what?”

azzi hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the cutting board. “not anything bad. i just…” she looked up again, her voice softer this time. “i don’t want to overstep.”

“you’re not,” paige said quickly, taking a step closer. “whatever it is, just say it.”

azzi nodded, her gaze dipping for a second. “sometimes when i’m cooking or recording… i feel like i’m taking up space that’s not mine. and this kitchen, this whole place—it’s yours. i just wanna make sure you’re okay with all of it.”

paige blinked. then her mouth opened, then closed, like she didn’t know how to word what she wanted to say.

“azzi…” she finally breathed out, “this kitchen has never felt more like home until you started using it.”

azzi’s breath hitched just slightly.

“i’m not just okay with it,” paige added, her tone warm and sincere. “i want you to feel like it’s yours too.”

azzi nodded slowly, her heart doing things she swore it shouldn’t.

“thank you,” she whispered.

paige smiled, that soft, knowing one that always seemed to land in azzi’s chest. “now get back to that mochi crusted chicken or whatever this is. it smells insane.”

azzi laughed, picking her knife back up. “it’s a crispy miso glaze with sesame slaw.”

“same thing,” paige teased, leaning on the counter again. “i’ll just stand here and admire the chef in action.”

paige stayed leaned against the counter, her arms crossed as she watched azzi move around the kitchen. there was something really calming about the way azzi cooked—confident but unhurried, every movement intentional. her braids were tied back into a loose bun, a few strands curling by her cheeks, and her apron was tied snug around her waist.

“you know,” paige started, her voice a little lighter now, “this might be the first time i’ve ever just… stood here and watched someone cook in my kitchen.”

azzi didn’t turn around, but her smile grew. “that a good thing or bad thing?”

“depends.”

“on?”

“on whether or not i get to sneak a bite before it’s done.”

azzi turned her head just enough to shoot her a look. “absolutely not.”

“wow. heartless.”

“it’s about the full experience, bueckers. presentation. timing. everything matters.”

paige stepped a little closer, still smiling. “you sound like a whole food network episode right now.”

“good,” azzi said, pressing a spoon into the sauce she’d been stirring, then lifting it to her lips for a quick taste. “that means i’m in my zone.”

“you always get this focused when you cook?”

azzi paused for a second, then glanced over her shoulder. “usually. but it’s different here.”

paige’s brows lifted slightly. “different how?”

“you’re here.”

there was a beat of silence.

paige didn’t say anything right away, just walked slowly over until she was standing right next to azzi at the counter. she looked at the rows of spices, the sauce simmering on the stove, then finally back at azzi.

“that’s a good thing, right?”

azzi turned to face her fully, their arms almost brushing. “yeah. it is.”

paige’s eyes lingered, softer now. “cool. just making sure.”

azzi looked away first, chuckling under her breath. “you’re annoying.”

“and you’re flustered.”

“am not.”

“are too.”

“you wanna chop the scallions or what?”

“not unless you wanna risk losing a finger. chef fudd got it covered.”

they both laughed, the kitchen settling into a comfortable rhythm again—paige watching, azzi focused, the space between them quietly buzzing with something neither one of them wanted to name just yet.

the dish was plated perfectly. azzi always took her time with presentation, especially when she was testing out a new recipe. two plates sat on the island, the aroma making paige lean in instinctively.

“this looks insane,” paige said, already reaching for her fork.

“wait,” azzi warned, holding up a hand. “let me take a picture first.”

paige groaned but leaned back, laughing. “you’re such a chef.”

“and you’re lucky to be eating this for free.”

“don’t remind me.”

azzi quickly snapped a photo, adjusting the angle slightly before nodding. “okay. now you can eat.”

paige wasted no time. she took a bite, her eyes widening almost instantly. “okay—who gave you the right?”

azzi just smiled, resting her chin in her hand as she watched paige chew. “good?”

“azzi. be serious. this is the best thing i’ve had in my life.”

“you said that last week.”

“i meant it then. i mean it now.”

azzi tried to play it cool, but the pink that dusted her cheeks gave her away. she picked up her own fork and took a bite, humming softly at the taste. it was really good. she could admit that.

they ate quietly for a few minutes, the kind of quiet that felt full. like neither one of them needed to speak to feel something.

eventually, paige broke the silence. “so, is this going on your page?”

azzi looked up, a bit surprised by the question. “probably. why?”

paige shrugged, swirling a piece of food with her fork. “i don’t know. it just feels… different. like this was made for me, not for the camera.”

azzi’s heart skipped.

“it was,” she said before she could stop herself. “i mean… you were the first person i thought about when i was trying to figure out what to make.”

paige looked at her, fork stilling.

“well,” she said quietly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “for the record… i’d eat whatever you made. even if it sucked.”

azzi snorted. “you’re annoying.”

“and you’re soft.”

“shut up.”

“no, seriously,” paige leaned forward, eyes sparkling a little. “thank you for this.”

azzi didn’t answer right away, just gave her a small nod and looked down at her plate again. but her smile—her smile said everything.

-

paige tossed the last of the throw pillows onto the couch before stepping back with a satisfied nod. “okay. we’re officially cozy.”

azzi walked in with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a blanket tucked under her arm. “i still don’t understand why we need all these pillows for two people.”

“because comfort is a lifestyle,” paige said matter-of-factly, grabbing the bowl from azzi. “also, you move a lot when you sit. the pillows are a buffer.”

“wow.” azzi raised an eyebrow. “you just called me chaotic in the nicest way possible.”

“i call it like i see it.”

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled, dropping the blanket down on the couch before settling in. “so what are we watching?”

“you picked last time.”

“so?”

“azzi…”

“ugh, fine,” she groaned, pulling her legs up under her. “but if you pick something boring, i’m making dessert in the middle of it.”

“deal,” paige said with a grin as she scrolled through the options. “but i won’t. i’m feeling generous tonight.”

the sound of the tv filled the space, warm and low. paige eventually landed on a comedy, something light and stupid enough that they wouldn’t be too locked in. she plopped down next to azzi, close but not too close—just enough that their arms would brush if either of them shifted.

halfway through the movie, the popcorn was gone, azzi had stolen a pillow to hug, and paige had long abandoned sitting up straight. she was leaned back, her legs stretched out, one hand resting lazily over the back of the couch—right behind azzi’s head.

neither of them said much, but every now and then they’d glance at each other, smile at the same lines, or laugh a little too hard at the same dumb jokes.

“you’re really not gonna make dessert?” paige asked during a quiet part of the movie, her voice lower now, more relaxed.

“you said the movie wouldn’t be boring,” azzi teased, glancing at her from the side. “you lucked out.”

“mm. i’ll take it.” she paused. “this is nice.”

“yeah,” azzi said, softer now. “it is.”

a comfortable silence fell over them again. and when azzi adjusted slightly, leaning just a little more into the couch cushion… she felt paige’s fingers graze the back of her shoulder, casual but lingering.

neither of them said anything.

but both of them felt it.

the credits started rolling, the volume low, but neither of them reached for the remote. azzi was curled into the corner of the couch, a blanket now wrapped loosely around her legs, her head tilted toward the screen though her eyes weren’t really watching it.

paige, stretched out beside her, finally spoke.

“so, what’d you think?”

azzi glanced at her. “about the movie?”

“yeah.”

“eh. seven outta ten,” she said with a teasing smirk. “the popcorn was better.”

paige laughed. “so you’re saying i saved us by not making you get up and bake.”

“exactly. you’re welcome.”

paige looked over at her, her smile slowly fading into something smaller, gentler. she leaned forward to grab the remote and clicked the tv off, the screen going dark and leaving them in the quiet glow of the living room lamp.

“you know,” she said after a moment, “this is probably the most i’ve relaxed in a while.”

azzi blinked, surprised by her honesty. “really?”

“mmhmm,” paige nodded. “my life’s usually just… basketball, media, traveling, repeat. even when i’m home, i don’t really feel like i’m here, you know?”

azzi hummed, her voice low. “but you feel here now?”

paige looked at her for a second too long. “yeah. weird, huh?”

azzi didn’t look away. “not weird.”

they sat like that—facing each other, something silent building in the space between them. azzi shifted a little, suddenly aware of how close they were. she could feel paige’s warmth beside her. not touching, but close enough.

“you tired?” paige asked, voice quiet.

azzi shook her head. “not really.”

“good,” paige said, and then she hesitated. “mind if we just… sit here? for a little longer.”

azzi smiled gently. “no. i don’t mind.”

and so they stayed like that.

not saying much.

not needing to.

and for once, silence didn’t feel like space between them—

it felt like something shared.

paige pulled the blanket over her lap, her movements unhurried. she glanced over at azzi again, catching the way the chef’s eyes followed her hand without even thinking. it made her grin.

“you always this quiet?” she asked, her tone light.

azzi let out a soft breath of a laugh. “when i’m comfortable… yeah.”

“so you’re comfortable.”

“a little,” azzi said, teasing, her voice barely above a whisper.

paige tilted her head, smiling. “good.”

the room settled into quiet again, but it wasn’t awkward—it was the kind of quiet that comes after a long day and a warm meal, when both people are content just being near each other.

azzi leaned her head back against the couch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “you ever get scared of how fast time goes?”

paige looked over at her. “sometimes.”

“i do,” azzi admitted. “like, one day i was just a kid helping my mom cook breakfast, and now i’m here… living in someone else’s home, cooking in someone else’s kitchen.”

paige didn’t say anything for a second. then—

“you say that like you don’t belong here.”

azzi opened her eyes, her gaze meeting paige’s.

“but you do,” paige continued. “i don’t think you realize how easy you’ve made it for me to come home. how much better it feels.”

azzi blinked slowly, her eyes soft. “thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me,” paige murmured. “just… don’t think this isn’t your space too.”

there was a beat of quiet between them, like something unspoken just settled into place.

azzi looked away first, her voice gentle. “you make it easy to feel at home.”

paige smiled, a quiet kind of proud. “then i’m doing something right.”

they didn’t talk much more after that. not because there wasn’t more to say—just because sometimes, sharing a couch and a little silence was enough.

and that night, when they both went to bed…

they both slept a little easier.

[farfromharry]

Summary: Lando’s girlfriend broke her leg and obviously he had to be the first to sign it

lando norris x reader

w/c 963

A broken leg, that was Y/N’s diagnosis. That and being incredibly clumsy. And she had been sulking about it for the better part of a day.

Lando had been scared to overstep. He knew she was upset, her movements for the next 2-3 months were limited, of course she would be upset. But he missed her. Being a boyfriend had taught him a lot about himself and one of those things was that he was extremely clingy when the right person was involved. He just wanted to spend time with her.

He gave it till 2pm the day after they left the hospital before he broke. He needed bribes and a smile and hopefully everything would go to plan.

The man knocked on the bedroom door, getting no response just as expected. “Are you still moping or can I come in?” It was a dangerous game he was playing. Poking the bear. Luckily for him, this bear had a soft spot. That soft spot was named Lando Norris. She was just as gone for him as he was for her. A match made in heaven.

A huff came from beneath the blankets. It made him smile. “Depends. Did you bring ice cream… or chocolate?” Her voice was quiet, like she was being shy about it. He knew her too well though.

“Chocolate ice cream okay?”

She lifted her head like she was checking he was being honest. The man waved the tub where she could see with a spoon in his other hand. For the first time in a full day, she smiled. “You beautiful man, get over here.”

That was his green light. He basically jogged over to the bed, throwing himself in beside her. He offered the ice cream and a kiss, both doing wonders to lighten her mood.

“How you feeling?” He brushed her hair from her face.

She frowned, curling into his side. “Like I can’t go anywhere without burdening someone.” Considering she had never used crutches, everyone agreed it was best to accompany her places in case she stumbled or fell. It was out of love. No one wanted her to hurt herself more than she already had.

Now it was his turn to frown. He couldn’t even begin to tell her how much of a burden she wasn’t. “I will literally carry you everywhere until it’s healed. You’re not allowed to be sad anymore.”

Unfortunately she knew he was being serious. “Lan, you can’t just—“

“Yes, actually, I can.” He raised an arm, pulled up his sleeve and flexed. “I have incredible biceps. It’d be a breeze.” He winked for good measure and she hated how it made her a little flustered.

It all started with his finger tracing shapes on her leg. That was probably where he got the idea from. Then it graduated to him shuffling down the bed, deciding he had to make his mark on her cast.

She didn’t know where he got the pen, probably in one of his many pockets for some random reason. It did take her by surprise though that he was just blindly helping himself. She might not have minded if he had written her a nice message or something. “Did you just sign my cast?” She blinked, blankly.

“Obviously, that’s what you do with casts.”

Her eyes flickered down to the ink now soaking into the plaster. It was there clear as day. The squiggly lines that somehow made up ‘Lando’ with a little 4 beside it. “No, Lando, you literally autographed it.”

He looked down with a furrowed brow, like he hadn’t even realised what he’d done. It was sort of a reflex. When a pen was put in his hand and he was supposed to sign something, that’s exactly what he did. His signature was scrawled mindlessly across the cast because that’s what he was so used to doing. Over the years he’d signed everything from skin to wrappers. Apparently now he even signed his girlfriend.

“Shit.” Any normal person would have felt guilty or even feigned it, but not him. Lando laughed, like, full belly laughed at his mistake. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The woman rolled her eyes. Admittedly she couldn’t help but feel slightly amused herself.

“I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

There was that evil grin on his face again. “You just eat your ice cream. Let me work my magic.”

She didn’t even want to know what he had planned. When it came to Lando sometimes it was better to turn a blind eye and let him do his thing. She sighed, doing as he said. As long as he didn’t draw something phallic like the child he was, she supposed she could get over it.

The man was concentrating hard. Every now and then she would glance at him, find him with his head practically buried in her thigh and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. It was adorable.

10 minutes must have gone by before he finally announced he was done with his masterpiece. “All done.” He sat back with a proud smile on his face.

When she finally took a look, it was like something a crushing teen might draw in the margin of their high school notebook. Hearts, everywhere, followed by a ‘Lando <3 Y/N.’ It was silly, but it made her smile and that was all he wanted to do. Plus now that he’d dedicated his love to her, at least everyone would know she was his.

“I love it, you’re a real artist.”

He beamed. It would be with her for the next 3 months so he was glad she liked it. He stole a quick kiss and then a bit of ice cream when she wasn’t looking. “Good, ‘cause I love you.”

[wildernessworship]

I feel like a lot of viewers didn't necessarily absorb just how fucked up Mari, Akilah, Melissa, and Gen's murder plot in the s3 finale actually was. The episode didn't do the best job of communicating what was actually happening, so I do get why people were confused about who was in on what plan. But once you understand the girls weren't involved in Natalie's transponder efforts and had no idea there was still a chance of rescue, the full degree of horridness becomes clear.

Their plan definitely wasn't a distraction to get everyone rescued. It was essentially a revenge plot to take out their most unstable teammates for ruining their chances of rescue, and just as importantly, for being a heinous bitch to them (Shauna with Mari and Melissa) and convincing them they were special (Lottie with Akilah). It was personal and premeditated, and at least as bad or arguably worse than anything Shauna and Lottie had done up to that point.

They poisoned the animals, their only ethical food source and the one thing that might have gotten them through winter without resorting to cannibalism. They baited Lottie and Shauna into calling for another hunt to serve as a distraction while they carried out their murders, nevermind what might happen to whoever drew the queen. Even if they had successfully pulled it off and only the targets died, it would have done little to improve their overall circumstances.

The reality of their plan was this: they kill and eat two problem teammates, but it only sustains them for so long because the group is still stranded in the middle of nowhere during the brutal winter without food. Removing Shauna and Lottie from the equation solves a few of their immediate problems, creates a temporary illusion of security, but it doesn't prevent further violence. In fact, it's easier, because now they have experience actively killing their friends. As they go hungry, they justify more hunts.

What Lottie says is true, "It's in all of us now." Everyone in the group is responsible for the violence and depravity they've devolved into. They've all permitted, escalated, participated in, and benefited from these horrific acts. They've also been deeply traumatized by them. They are all simultaneously victim and perpetrator. Everyone, including Mari herself, is responsible for Mari's death. They're responsible for Ben and Javi and Jackie's deaths. But that reality is so overwhelming and existentially horrifying, they can't acknowledge it and have to find convenient scapegoats to pin all the bad things on.

It's easy to understand how they got there, and Shauna's sadism and Lottie's religious zealotry do make them super easy targets for blame. But we, the audience, aren't traumatized teenagers trapped in desperate circumstances, so we don't need to resort to scapegoating. We should be able to recognize the obvious and severe mental health crises driving Shauna and Lottie's behavior. We should be able to understand a huge part of their deterioration is because they were used by the collective, isolated into damaging roles, and then written off as crazy and dangerous once it stopped being convenient to use them.

I just think every single one of these kids, no matter what horrific shit they get up to, is worthy of our empathy and understanding. Fiction is exactly the place where we can exercise this kind of radical acceptance of the darkest parts of humanity. I'd prefer to save the finger pointing for picking out my favorite unhinged cannibal, instead of looking for villains and heroes where they don't exist.

[artist-owl]

Top 10 Funniest Deaths of the Silmarillion

Because sometimes you have to laugh through the tears when you’re reading this book. Did reading about (most) of these deaths emotionally devastate me? Oh yeah. Doesn’t mean we can’t have a laugh about it.

10 - Maglor: didn’t fucking die, the coward! Like, given that Elves can die of depression, there’s realistically no way he lived past the Second Age, but we never get confirmation. Schrodinger’s Elf, if you will.

9 - Turgon: specifically in a fandom context it’s funny bc fanon Turgon is the boring as cardboard member of his entire generation and then he goes out refusing to leave his falling city and stands atop his tower as dragons bring it down in crumbling flames whilst yelling “great is the victory of the Noldor!” Cannot stress enough that he did not need to do this. He could have left and said no. Dumb as hell but I respect it.

8 - Argon: pour one out for my boy his death and whole existence didn’t even make it to the published Silm. Not to mention he survives the entire crossing of the Helcaraxë while his sister in law literally got friged, then dies like .5 seconds after setting foot in Beleriand. Tfw you’re so impetuous that you hew your way through the orcs without stopping to think that this means they can close ranks and surround you. Not his fault, he’d never fought before. Probably.

7 - Nienor: learns that she did a sibling incest and immediately yeets herself off a cliff. Like I can’t blame her but there’s a morbid humour in how fast she made that decision.

6 - Túrin: same as his sister, but his cursed sword suddenly reveals itself to be capable of speech, calls him out for killing his boyfriend, and then calls him a lil bitch before he kills himself with it. Also with the way his life was going this wasn’t even surprising.

5 - Sauron (death no. 3): you know he lived and died the same way: not knowing what the fuck a Hobbit is or why he should worry about them. Also this bitch dies three goddamn times because he can’t learn his damn lesson.

4 - Fëanor: Fingolfin got the death that Fëanor was destined for bc Morgoth didn’t have time to plan ahead for that fight and granted Fingolfin a badass last stand; with Fëanor he went “I’m not fighting that guy” like a lil bitch and straight up sent out a fuckton of Balrogs to fight him instead, and Fëanor survived this for long enough to curse him out again, make his sons re-swear the oath that would ruin their lives and countless others’, and then spontaneously combust out of sheer Big Mad. Other Elves have faded away from depression because the weariness and sorrow of their souls overcame their bodies; Fëanor literally invented a new way to die. Post cancelled I’ve circled back around to being impressed.

3 - Thingol: Stiffs the Dwarves on their payment and starts hurling insults and slurs at them while holding a necklace that was recently liberated from a dead dragon’s hoard that had been inset with a twice-stolen gem that lowkey curses everyone who covets it after his magic goddess wife told him that coveting it was a bad idea. Like, my guy, wtf did you think would happen.

2 - Sauron (death no. 1): the biggest L of his career. Just sitting in his temple in Atlantis Númenor, laughing maniacally, assured of his own victory, and not looking out the window behind him to see the massive wave that is approaching at mach fuck. Dies and jrrt specifically mentions that he’s never again able to have a body that men (specifically) find hot. This is more pathetic than the #1 spot but I want him to stay losing 😌

1 - Finrod: do I even need to say it? You’ve got this classy, friendly, noble Elven lord who, in short order: agrees to help a Man complete a suicide quest because he Swore An Oath, dressed up as an orc, said his name was Dungalef and his friend here was Nereb, lost a rap battle to a god bc the god brought up his ptsd triggers, got stripped naked, slipped his chains and fought a werewolf, naked, with his teeth, and won before dying of blood loss, but not before he gave a little lore drop to Beren about how Elven deaths work as his last words. The absolute legend.

Put your favorites and/or other nominations in the tags, I want to see if there's anyone I missed.

[xoxolaw]

+ HOW TO WIN A HEART

in which her friends challenged her to make the scariest guy in school fall in love with her — and she said, “easy.”

GEUM SEONG-JE X READER

CH 1 , CH 2 , CH 3 , CH 4

RULE 4 - NEVER FALL FIRST

Y/N flirted harder after that.

It wasn’t love. It was a strategy.

Or that’s what she told herself every time her fingers grazed his arm “by accident,” every time she leaned in closer than she needed to, her perfume lingering like a challenge. She laughed more loudly around him. Touched his shoulder when he said something dark. Licked her bottom lip when she caught his stare.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t play dumb.

He played *along.*

But never the way she expected.

Sometimes, he’d glance at her lips for just a second too long, and her pulse would stutter. Other times, he'd walk past her in the hallway, brushing shoulders like they were strangers. He moved through the school like he didn’t owe anyone a reaction—not even her.

Especially not her.

And the worst part? That only made her want more.

---

She spotted him outside after class on Wednesday.

He was pressed against the brick wall near the side gate, surrounded by two other Kanghak boys and a kid she didn’t recognize—smaller, trembling, his backpack half open on the ground. Something about the scene was off. The tension was wrong.

Seong-je had his hand on the kid’s collar.

He wasn’t yelling. Wasn’t angry.

He was *smiling.*

Not the kind of smile people wear when they’re amused. It was slow. Icy. Like he was explaining a punishment the boy didn’t fully understand yet. His fingers gripped the fabric with idle cruelty, like he was waiting for an excuse to tighten.

Y/N stood frozen for a second, watching from behind the vending machines.

No punches thrown. No yelling. Just that expression on his face—the same one he wore when he walked away from her after that kiss. Like the whole world was something he could crush in one hand if it got boring enough.

The boy mumbled something. Seong-je let go.

But not before leaning in and whispering something low.

The kid paled, grabbed his bag, and scrambled away.

Seong-je lit a cigarette.

One of his friends laughed.

Y/N felt something twist in her stomach—not fear, not exactly.

It was *fascination.* And something dangerously close to concern.

---

Later, her friends talked about it at lunch.

“Did you hear?” Jina said, popping a fry into her mouth. “Some guy called Seong-je a mutt in front of the second-years. Said something about him chasing skirts now.”

Bora blinked. “Wait—like, *you* skirts?”

Y/N didn’t look up from her drink. “I’m not the only girl in this school.”

“No,” Jina said, lowering her voice. “But you’re the only one he kissed in a hallway.”

Bora leaned in. “But it’s kinda hot, right?”

“What?”

Jina grinned. “Don’t act like you’re not obsessed.”

Y/N twirled her straw through the ice of her orange soda. “He’s just another boy.”

But her stomach betrayed her.

Because the truth was, she hadn’t stopped thinking about that look in his eyes.

How easily he flipped—danger coiled just beneath the surface, like a knife under skin.

---

He found her first that day.

After school. Behind the art building. She hadn’t planned to see him—she wasn’t even sure what she would say if she did. But there he was, leaning against the cement ledge, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly.

“Enjoy the show earlier?” he asked without looking at her.

Her blood went cold.

“You knew I was watching?”

“You breathe louder when you’re nervous.”

She scoffed. “Please. I don’t get nervous.”

He finally turned, and for a second—just a second—his eyes dropped to her lips before meeting her gaze again.

“You should,” he said simply.

She hated the way her heart jumped.

“So what,” she snapped, trying to regain control, “you rough people up for fun now?”

“If they deserve it,” he said. No apology. No explanation.

“And what if *I* piss you off one day?”

His eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. “Then don’t.”

A silence stretched between them, charged and hot and full of everything she wasn’t ready to admit.

Finally, she huffed, brushing imaginary lint off her skirt. “You’re not that scary, you know.”

He smiled. That same *dangerous* smile.

“No,” he murmured, stepping past her, brushing her shoulder just enough to make her shiver. “But I don’t need to be.”

---

That night, she couldn’t sleep.

Not because of what he’d done. But because of the way he’d looked at her.

Because of the way she *felt* watching him.

She stared at the ceiling for hours, tangled in her sheets, replaying every word, every shift in his voice. She wasn’t supposed to care this much. She wasn’t supposed to feel this unsettled by silence.

This wasn’t part of the game.

He wasn’t supposed to have this kind of hold on her.

She sat up at one point, clutching her pillow to her chest like it might stop her heartbeat from rattling against her ribs.

“Don’t fall,” she whispered, like a prayer.

“Don’t fall.”

But her hands were already shaking.

And her heart?

It had already taken the first step.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I think I am losing the vibe I wanted this series to have 😭 I don't feel motivated to write a series lmfao. This and Hearts & Hazards but I also don't want to disappoint the ones who were looking forward to this. Idk what to dooooo

TAGLIST

@lveegsoi @lilah1020 @adenosistriphosphate678 @stxr-lilac @iloveaustinelvisandmannymore @ashayein @ellaaa505 @bobamiikteaas @ruruyinn @itzcandy @heeknow @liliasf @lizaaae @uniquecookieartisanwobbler @gacktsa @thebatapex @chimmyn0chu @doiegami @satoru2716

[fluff-n-cookies]

You think Dabi would lose his shit if his kid ended up with the same quirk he had?

oh hi hello yes yes, please ignore the fact that it's taken me 6 months to get to you I am very sorry, I was NOT feeling the best these past few months but I've got my spirit back, but I do like this ask and do not have the heart to delate it so...

TW: Canon typical violence probs, I mean it's Dabi he's a warning of his own, I'll try and keep it fluffy, a little swearing, platonic x reader!

and without further a-do

it's dabi!

I actually touched on his very, very lightly in endeavour's intro/headcanons

(and I also do plan on adding this as an event in my Dad! Dabi series, so excuse me if I'm being vague I don't want to give you spoilers to those who don't want it)

I quote "reader is 4 and gets her quirk in the story. her quirk is a heightened version of shoto’s quirk which I’ll expand on if this is the fan favorite."

And since clearly, it IS a fan favorite I'll expand.

Essenially, reader's quirk allows her to control the temperature of nearly everything around her, not limited to freezing water (ice) or super heating fire (Dabi's blue flames)

say, she could increase the body temp of her foe to cause a heat wave

or chill the air so that heat related quirk's (for example bakugou's explosions) would make less an impact.

I haven't worked out the details too much, I'd be open to hearing your guy's thoughts on all this.

but for the sake of staying on topic, let's say it starts with a regular old red flame popping out of nowhere one day,

Dabi would immediately lose his shit.

I'm not kidding, his first reaction is to panic, his second is to try and calm you down.

holds you and hugs you as if it's the end of the world

even if you're not upset, he'll act as if you're dying!

and since I can't tell you all too many details.

Instead, I'll tell you his thoughts.

"fuck, fuck! she'll burn herself! we need to get quirk cancellers, or something! oh God, it's over. it's over, she's gonna want to be a hero, then- then she'll get a boyfriend won't she- and then she's gonna DIE"

he's a little delusional, but nevertheless, lovingly delusional.

He tells you it's not good to use your quirk, that it's dangerous, and if you do "I'm going to be very sad, you don't want me sad do you?"

at some point, he'll tell you that the reason he's all purple stapled, is because a hero burned him with their fire, and that's why he hates heros and hates fire, even his own quirk.

he says that's the reason he never uses his quirk, and why you shouldn't either.

essenially gaslighting you into thinking that is power you have can only be used for evil purposes.

of course however that can all change if you meet the rest of your family....

I'll leave it there, I hope this was entertaining to SOMEONE out there

[xclowniex]

Broke up with my girlfriend earlier tonight 👍

And it does suck, but not as bad as I thought it would be.

I didn't even plan on breaking up with her tonight. It just sorta happened.

For the past month and a half it's been almost like I've been begging for her attention. And I do understand she has had more on her plate recently, but it's not like it's been impossible to fit me into her schedule and still have time to herself. Half of it has honestly been poor time management on her part. And I was giving her benefit of the doubt, and was going to give it another week before bringing it up as an issue to talk about as I was giving her benefit of the doubt as assuming the busy period would end.

However at dinner she kinda dropped the news that at the end of her degree in 18 months she will be moving to the south island. No ifs no buts no maybes, she will be doing so. And I do understand why she wants to move, it's just that she did not factor me into her plans.

When she dropped that news my first question was, "where do i fit into your plans". And she admitted she didn't think about me. I asked like 10 different questions to get like a proper understanding. But essentially she didn't want us to like break up or anything, but she already made up her mind 100%.

Now I'm pretty open about moving cities and even islands. As long as I can get a good job I don't care. But she wanted to move to a small town without really any office roles... which is the only thing I can do due to my career path. And she didn't even think about if she wanted me to move down with her.

And when we first started dating, we both said we cannot do long distance and are wanting something longterm.

And the decision for me to break up with her was because she should have either factored me into her future plans OR communicated that what she was wanting out of the relationship had changed. Not "I don't want us to break up but also I am not going to account for you in my future plans please stay together with me".

I respect myself too much to essentially be this person she is only with for the sake of being with someone.

And I am proud of myself for not pushing my own feelings aside, and it was an amicable breakup, which I am glad about.

It's also made me realize what I am looking for in a relationship. And whilst I'm not like "I will only date jews", honestly at this time I would prefer to date a woman or non binary person who is Jewish.

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | 0.3 | Bradley Bradshaw

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

“Look, it’s the handling, the engine and the exhaust — it’ll cost more to fix this pile of crap than it’s worth. Impound it and get yourself something worth running, sweetheart.”

That was the conversation that had kick-started Avery’s extended stay at Bradley Bradshaw’s house. 

Bradley had rolled his eyes, and stepped in, but he had walked away from the shop agreeing with the mechanic. It wasn’t about the money, or the condescending tone the mechanic had used; he just knew that the second these particular problems were fixed, another one would pop up.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” He had explained, nodding his head as he breezed along the coastal route. It’s like the 70s follow him where he goes, thrumming through the speakers and apparent in the grainy Polaroid tucked into his sun visor, observable also in his vintage Ray-Bans. “I’ll drive you around for a couple more days, and we’ll find you something to drive.” 

Her style isn’t so historic. Wind swept through her blow-dried hair, her lips glossed and her t-shirt bearing sight of a band older than herself. She picked at the soft, spring shade of varnish on her nails. Practically squirming in her seat as he laid out the plan, helpless to do anything but nod. 

Of course, she was grateful for the notion of this guy being so willing to put himself at an inconvenience just so that she would be able to get around. Taking a handout from a practical stranger just isn’t something that comes so easily.

She was really only expecting the car issue to take a few days. So, two and a half weeks later, she’s a little disgruntled to be still waking up in Bradley’s spare bedroom.

Formerly his home gym, there’s still a weight rack in the corner, a closet full of clutter, rubber flooring mats and a big workout bench that’s now squashed against the far wall — but there’s a futon in there too that makes a halfway decent bed.

It’s better than being at Maverick’s.

She has learned by now that he gets up early and works out in the backyard, sometimes going for a run down by the bay, makes himself — and often her — breakfast, and then claims the bathroom for an hour.

It’s his bathroom, so she can’t exactly complain, but she has started to wonder exactly what it is that he gets up to in there for so long.

Her routine looks a little different to his. Her shifts at the Hard Deck are tiring, and she often finishes late. For any finishes after 2am, Penny has been nice enough to send her home in a cab. Anything earlier than that, Bradley’s waiting in the parking lot or over by the pool table with his friends.

This particular morning, she wakes up later than usual, and the shower is already running. 

The distractions help. The late nights help. The person sleeping across the hall helps. But, Bradley can’t shake his bad dreams. The same sea-sick feeling that sweeps him every single morning, the suffocating feeling of waking up sticky with sweat and tangled between sheets. Avery hasn’t noticed yet that he has washed his sheets five times in two weeks, like that’ll help.

Cold numbs his toes and stings at his sore, tense shoulders. The pouring water spills over his skin, prickling like pins with each droplet. The bathroom light has been off the whole time; that helps with the headaches.

Sitting on the floor of his shower has become a tortuous part of his morning routine lately. Sitting until his fingertips wrinkle and his skin starts to lose its flush. Until the cold shocks his system into operating normally again, maybe.

He likes having her around. It makes it easier to pick himself up and get out of the shower, knowing that she’ll worry. He doesn’t doubt that she cares for him — she’s a sweet girl, and he knows that in other circumstances, they would have been great friends. He’d like to be friends now, but he understands her reservations.

The second that this is all over, she’ll run home and she’ll never want to think about Mav again.

Bradley isn’t so sure what’ll give him reason to get out of the shower once she’s gone.

He wishes that he knew what happened between them. He wishes Mav had talked about her more — though, Bradley had been thrown head first into his pre-teens back then, and probably wouldn’t have listened. He doesn’t know anything about why she calls her dad by his first name, or why he let her drive that piece of shit car, or why she stopped visiting all those years ago.

Thinking about Avery, and the things left to settle, is what drags him out of his morning fog. Keeping her going stops him from thinking of his memories of that day.

She has to be at work today at noon. She’s fitting in well over there, and the other staff are great with her. Bradley spends most of her shifts around the bar, either watching sports on the TV or talking to his friends. Occasionally, when it’s quiet, he’ll walk over to the bar and sit with her.

She talks the most then. Tells him about the elementary school she attended, and its big willow tree, and the neighbourhood pool where she broke her elbow, and the guitar lessons she took as a kid. He likes those chats.

Neither one of them talk about the fact that he still hasn’t been given the all clear to return to work himself. There’s a voicemail on his phone from two days ago that hasn’t been listened to yet, from a Commander that didn’t even jnow Bradley’s name one month ago, now saying that he cares and would like to discuss a referral to a service. A shrink.

Bradley has been before, after he first pushed a kid to the floor in the playground, a couple of weeks after his dad had passed. He remembers the drive to the office, and the worry on his mother’s placating smile. He remembers his legs dangling off of the worn-out, felted armchair. The lollipops and the pages of colouring. He figures the service he’d get now might look a little different.

This morning Avery lays in her bed; she watches raindrops spill along the window pane to her right. Pretty glum weather for California, but the West Coast has always looked pretty in shades of blue. Rain splatters the sidewalk at the front of the house, almost matching the steady pattering of the shower running on the other side of her wall.

When the shower cuts out, the noise stops on one side. 

She turns her head and looks to the closed bedroom door, wondering what time he had gotten up today. She had gone to bed at around two, and he had stayed up a little later. Last night they had watched Jaws together, and Bradley had revealed that he once hyperventilated in a swimming lesson as a kid because Mav had let him watch that movie way too young.

Mav didn’t ever let her watch scary movies. Well, he didn’t exactly have any rules at his place — but he heavily discouraged those kinds of movies. She can’t name a single thing she remembers watching with him.

She pushes back the sheets as the bathroom door clicks open, padding across the wooden floor to meet Bradley in the hallway. He has a fluffy gray towel secured around his waist and the meat of his palms are busy rubbing hard at his eyes.

He is very comfortable with his own body, and exceedingly comfortable with parading that body around his house. But, it’s his place, and she’s a guest and so forth — not that she finds much to complain about with the subject.

“Morning.” She sounds chirpy today, and he lifts one palm away to peek at her as he heads for his room. Leaning against the door frame with her knees together and hands crossed in front of her, offering him a small smile.

His voice is gruff and a little dry, tired sounding. “Morning. Didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Not at all.” It almost sounds like she’s about to follow him, just to keep the conversation going. He doesn’t hear her move though. “Have you been up long?”

And now that the conversation is still going, he can’t exactly slam the door in her face. He pushes it behind him, and leaves it open a crack as he replies. “Yeah. A couple of hours. There’s breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Today, Bradley sounds beat. Usually he is chirpy enough in the mornings, excited to see her because that means his brain might finally stop reeling. It just all feels too foggy to smile today.

“I was thinking,” Avery hums, thinking on the spot now, really — he does so much to keep her functioning, and what might make a man like him smile on a gray day? “Maybe we could go do something today. Like head out to the beach.”

“In the rain?” He doesn’t mean to sound as blunt as he does, but he just can’t pick up his tone. He pulls on clean socks and buttons his jeans, wondering if there’s a frown on her face out in that hallway.

Instead, her lips are pursed in consideration. The Washington state native in her almost laughs at the idea that a little shower makes the outdoors off limits.

If she knew him better, she’d make a witty comment about him being a chicken for being afraid of a little water — but, she doesn’t know him that well at all.

“Right,” She mumbles, looking towards the ceiling. She doesn’t know this city very well at all yet, either. “Well, what do you usually do when it rains around here?”

He makes a soft scoffing sound from inside the room. She listens to him shuffling around in there as he dresses himself for the day. 

Brown eyes flicker to the reflective surface hung above his dresser while his hands fasten at the button on his jeans. He rolls his shoulders almost instinctively, straightening out and eyeing his chest. 

He makes an effort to clear his throat as he opens the drawer with his t-shirts.

“Hole up in the Hard Deck ‘til it passes.”  

Her nose wrinkles at that. Now leaning her head back against the hallway wall, where a framed photo of Bradley and some friends from flight school sits just past her shoulder, she can’t think of much she has seen in San Diego beyond the dingy ocean bar.

“Lame.” The word passes her lips before she can really think about whether the joke will be well received, and the wince starts to creep across her features. She settles at the sound of him huffing out a sound of amusement from his bedroom.

And then, the door is tugged open and he appears. Leaning his forearm against the doorframe and raising his brows in something that isn’t either surprise or annoyance, something more pleased looking.

“Fine,” He gives a short nod, not giving much away. “Let’s do it — let’s head down to the beach. You got a coat?”

She wrinkles her nose like the idea is ridiculous. “I don’t need a coat, it’s just a little rain.”

And then, he’s standing there with his coat zipped all the way up, watching her watch the waves while wind whips at her hair and fat, heavy raindrops spill across the thin sweater she had chosen to wear. 

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, because she has already declined to take his coat twice by now, but this just doesn’t feel right. 

His hands are pushed deep into his pockets, and the cap tucked under his hood keeps the rain off of his face. 

“I guess you’re used to this all, anyway,” He thinks out loud, lips pursed as he turns his head to look at the waves for himself. She turns her head to look at him, waiting for the second part of his thought. “All the, uh — grey skies and rain, huh?”

Avery thinks of Washington, and her lips twitch. It doesn’t look like any of it would come naturally to him at all, with a wardrobe made up of almost all shorts and short sleeves, curls that have been dyed by the sun and sunglasses on even now. 

No, he’s California through and through.

”Little rain never killed anybody.” She answers him, resuming their walk, trailing boot prints through the wet sand. It takes her a second to go on. “I was thinking of taking a trip back home this weekend. You think you could find me a ride before then?”

Bradley’s footprints come to a standstill, enervated waves lapping at his boots. He doesn’t think before he speaks. “Well, I could drive you.”

She smiles, halfway wondering where this guy’s nice gestures will stop and kind of wondering if he was just raised to be this polite. “I’m sure you have better things to do this weekend than make a sixteen hour drive up the coast.”

No, he doesn’t — and after a week of nothing but constant company, he likes the thought of being alone even less than the thought of a drive like that. But, he knows he can’t tell her that.

A month ago, he would have had plenty to do on a weekend. Friends, and sports, and live music and sunsets — he hasn’t felt much like leaving the house recently. A lot of his friends were developed through service, and all of them seem to know what happened, and none of them look at him quite the same.

That’s why he prefers to wait by his car when he picks Avery up.

“I could drive you to the airport.” He acts like he’s correcting her incorrect assumption, playing it cool by digging his hands deeper into his pockets and strolling forward until they’re side by side. 

“I don’t like to fly.” 

“You’re scared of flying?” He doesn’t mean it as a challenge, or to be condescending — but he finds a little humour in the idea. 

“I didn’t say I was scared — it’s just a lot of work,” She shrugs it off. “Buying a ticket, packing a bag, going through TSA, having an assigned seat, blah, blah, blah.”

“Did Mav ever take you up in the Mustang?”

“No,” Her answer carries less humour than his question had, and she turns to peer at him over her shoulder with that same look in her eyes. It’s a wounded kind of look, tainted with maybe something like jealousy. “Did he take you?”

“No,” Bradley’s lie comes as easily as it had when he had told it to his mother — who was worried sick about her baby boy, the day that he had made his mind up on how his life was going to go. “Nah, me either.”

Bradley’s first time flying was with Maverick, shotgun in that plane. It was the day he had decided to become a pilot for real, beyond the childhood wish to be just like his daddy — that was the day he had made up his mind.

He still remembered the look on Maverick’s face when he had uttered those words on the drive back home. It’s that same kind of wounded, air-out-of-your-lungs look.

Avery figures that Bradley is lying to her. She guesses that she appreciates what he is trying to do, and knows that he is doing it to spare her feelings rather than preserve some sort of image of her father. There’s no changing his absence, his disinterest. Not anymore, anyway.

“I’d come with you, though,” Bradley veers the conversation back in the direction it had come from. “This weekend. If you wanted the company.”

She stops walking as the tide creeps towards her soles. Watching him head up the surf, piecing him together like a puzzle, wondering what about Maverick makes him feel the need to be so kind to her. “Well, I’d just be catching up with my mom and… friends and stuff…”

“Right,” Bradley’s throat goes dry at the thought of his place being empty for an entire three days. He’ll have to find something to occupy himself. “By Friday. I’ll find you something.”

Work rolls around as quickly as that afternoon’s thunderstorm. 

They ate together, she got ready for work while he trawled through used car ads, and then they took the scenic route out to Coronado. It’s a short drive, but it’s easy to make longer when you have as many questions and as great of a knowledge of the city as Bradley does.

Avery’s still five minutes early, and there’s a big smile on her face as he pulls into the parking lot. 

Heavy, booming rumbles call across the sky. Thick, dense droplets of rain splatter the windshield almost faster than the wipers can work. Billy Joel plays softly through the speakers. 

Bradley’s almost wincing but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips as she swings the car door shut behind her, his coat finally accepted and hoisted over her head like a canopy as she makes the dash for the side door of The Hard Deck.

He hadn’t been joking earlier; folks here really do pile into that place on a dreary day like this one. It’s bustling, voices and music carrying across the parking lot when the door opens and closes behind her.

He sits back in his seat, one arm propped against the door of the car, tilting his head to catch a glimpse at the far right corner. As expected, he finds his friends there. Perched around the pool table, but not playing today. Out of uniform, but with regulated hair cuts and posture that gives them all away. 

They aren’t his closest friends, besides Natasha - but there’s a closeness that comes with the job. Camaraderie or something like that; they’re people that Bradley would say he trusts. People he enjoys hanging out with, for the most part. People that would be at his wedding one day, probably. 

And yet, he has been avoiding them every chance he has gotten for four weeks.

He knows that Natasha asks Avery about him when she can, and he knows that Natasha still respects him enough to not make it obvious that she’s scared for him. He’ll thank her for that at some point. 

The others, though, he isn’t sure. They might ask him how he’s doing, and he wouldn’t like to take the chance. They’re just more names to add to the growing lists of texts ignored. Tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, he doesn’t give a second thought to leaving. 

Avery, in a similar way, likes to keep busy.

As much as she wishes Bradley would stop bending over backwards to make her life easier, she appreciates that it means she never has to do something alone. The Hard Deck is the kind of place where alone time does not, and will never exist. Even when it’s quiet there are regulars sitting on those worn leather stools with a story and a smile. 

“Newbie, I’ve got a burst keg, a line that looks like LA traffic and a bachelorette party asking for twenty Lemon Drops - pick one.” Jimmy doesn’t even have to look up to start huffing orders, handing change back to a customer and grabbing a glass to start a new order all at once.

His voice is almost lost over the Hall & Oats classic blaring from the Jukebox, but it still carries every bit of the begrudging tone that he means it to. 

He’s nice enough, and he seems to have been here for as long as the place has been open — longer than the time Penny has had it for, at least. Long enough, anyway, to have decided that he knows who’s name is worth learning and who’s is not. She hasn’t taken offence to it, figuring that she’ll be out of his wispy, gray hair before he knows it. 

“I’ve got the keg.” She decides, killing him with kindness and a sweet smile. He huffs in acknowledgement, or amusement, and resigns to the grinning bachelorette on the other side of the bar. 

It’s surprising really, how quickly a shift passes when there isn’t a moment to stop. 

In fact, she barely notices that she’s done, until Jake Seresin takes a break from bothering her while she polishes glasses. He jerks his head towards the parking lot.

“Your Uber’s outside, by the way.” Jake has made sure that Avery knows who he is already. She’s unsurprised to find him leaning over the bar with a look on his face like he’s just waiting for the penny to drop.

To aid the process, he looks over his shoulder and hikes a thumb in the same direction.

Sure enough, standing outside with his chin tipped towards the shore, leaning back against the hood of his car — there’s Bradley. Watching the night sky, totally in a world of his own. 

Jake gives her a minute to stare at him while he, in turn, stares back at her. He’s not exactly counting down the seconds, but he knows the look of a woman who is taking her sweet time eyeing someone up. Fingers drumming nimbly against the bar, a smile has already stretched across his lips by the time she remembers to look back to him.

There’s a suggestion in the way his brows raise. A look in the flash of his green eyes. An absolute smugness in the smile on his face. “So, big guy taking care of you alright?”

And, in a play that Jake himself couldn’t have even hoped for, she falls right for the bait. 

It’s just the cocky way his eyes glint and the subtle suggestiveness to his tone, the way his eyebrow quirks just the smallest degree.  

Flush crossing her cheeks and an immediate alarm flashing across her eyes, she straightens up and puts some space between them. “No, no - it’s not like that.”

Dimples press into the corners of his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he cocks his head to a twenty degree angle. His voice is pure wouldn’t-know-better, country boy innocence as he quips, “Like what?”

Realisation hits with a beat. A grin crosses her face, her body slumping in relief as her eyes roll on instinct. He’s messing. 

“Ha. Ha.” She scoffs, leaning forward again to prop her hands against the bar. Just as quickly as that shock and embarrassment had crossed her face, it becomes  “Don’t you have anyone worrying about you? — This late on a Friday night and it’s just you and your best buddy.”

Jake huffs out a soft laugh, checking back over his other shoulder at Coyote, tossing a round of darts by himself in Jake’s absence. 

“Honey, I’m a free agent.” Jake smiles, and she gets it. She has heard the girls at the bar whispering about him every time he’s here, and she has always found him a little… underwhelming. But, the drawl in his voice when he calls her honey finally makes it click — she gets it, he’s hot.

But, it doesn’t quite work. 

Her eyes flicker downward, lingering on the glossed bar top. As her mouth stretches into a smile on her own, Jake follows her gaze downward until he finds what’s got her looking so smug. His phone resting there against the surface, released absentmindedly from his palm while he had been busy getting under her skin.

She looks between him, and the bell that hangs behind her.

Now, the rule’s pretty clear about what happens to those who dare to drop their phones on the bar.

She smiles, suddenly sweet as pie, and reaches under the bar to grab her little shoulder bag. Settling it against her body, she reaches across and pats him on the swell of his shoulder. 

“I’ll keep this one between us,” She hums, taking a quick glance outside at where Bradley is waiting for her, and then looking back to Jake with mischief in her eyes. “Honey.”

She leaves him with the taunt, grinning to herself about it, and just starting to think that maybe she might be able to like this place. 

Brisk air catches at her hair, nipping at the thin sleeves covering her arms. 

Bradley is perched against the hood of his car, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes on the ground. He hears her coming from the moment the door to the Hard Deck opens, but he doesn’t look up until she is just a couple of feet away.

He has been crying.

Instinctively, he lifts his palm and scrubs it across his face, like that will do anything to solve his red, blotchy cheeks, or still glossy eyes. He swallows thickly and clears his throat, his brows drawing together.

”Hey…” Avery slows to almost a stop, confusion settling across her face, hanging back like keeping her distance from him will protect her from what’s coming.

”Come on, we should go.” He says, his voice gruff. 

Now, she does stop moving, and shakes her head.

”Tell me what happened.” She’s still soft with him, which makes it worse. It sparks an anger in him that isn’t her fault, and wasn’t her father’s — the fault is his. It’s always been his. 

His breathing hitches and his fists ball at his sides. He hasn’t cried in front of anyone but Natasha in years, and now isn’t the time to start. With everything he has taken from you already, he won’t take the opportunity to grieve just because he can’t be strong.

”They left you a voicemail. You should listen to it.” His whisper is almost swept away by the coastal breeze, but she hears him just about.

Neither one of them says a word as they settle into the vehicle, seatbelts unbuckled and engine off. Avery rests her phone against her knee and lets the message play out loud, the voice of Admiral Simpson ringing out loud and clear.

As of eleven-fifty that evening, the search had been called off. The decision had been made, the paperwork was being drawn up. Maverick was gone, and there wasn’t a person in the world who could do anything about it. 

…

[oneinnocentprincess]

"I feel like you're making this more complicated than it is." She managed to tease back, catching on to what he was doing, she did smile at that. "You said you like my honesty with you and telling you what is all on my mind, that is what is on my mind." She stated simply, just poking to turn his words.

"I think you can handle more than two hours of my talking." Eleanor said confidently, because she was not going to put it past herself if she were to end up talking to him for that long. Especially tonight when there was not a wedding and sex to tire her out. "We'll see." She said with a small teasing shrug.

"Last night was very different." She stated the obvious. Now there was no hidden pressure for sex, she could simply breathe and not think or focus on that. She could just have conversations with him-- even if those were definitely going to be influenced by this book he's spoken so much of to her. "I plan to return some of those books, don't worry." Especially when he was able to provide recommendations to her on where to start.

Eleanor did accept his hand, pulling herself up but slightly pulling his hand down in the process, she got up and followed him. While she certainly did not feel unwelcome, she still felt like a stranger in his palace. The sudden shift in routines were so odd to her even if they were near the same of what she did at home. She wished they had gotten married in her kingdom. That way she could just focus on having a husband rather than also focus on a new kingdom and its culture.

She did enjoy this aspect of having a partner. She could manage on her own but it would have taken an extended amount of time, or she could have called for a handmaiden to assist who only would talk her head off. This was nice. "Thank you, Oscar." She mumbled once he was done loosening and unbuttoning the dress for her, it was still slightly odd for him to do this without all of the sexual tension in the air.

Eleanor changed into a long sleeved night gown, a fairly simple gown. She had ones that were more elaborate and more presentable, ones she was sure were given to her for the purpose of her husband to see, but she wanted to go simple for this evening. After changing she washed off her make up and brushed out her hair before pulling it into a braid.

She stepped into the room while stating, "Part of me feels more exposed tonight than last night." While obviously she had been as exposed one could get the evening before, now she was without the jewelry and make up-- even if she did likely sweat a lot of it off last evening. Her eyes went up to him before almost immediately darting towards his chest, before swiftly looking away. "That book you mentioned, it's in here?" Eleanor asked, trying to make small talk as she went to the bed, slowly sitting herself down, her body reminding her what had happened the previous night. There was some discomfort on her face, but she did not vocalize anything.

Oscar didn’t even try to hide his grin as she launched into her rapid series of clarifications, hands moving animatedly as if to ward off any misinterpretation. “So,” he said, counting on his fingers, “you want honesty, conversation, sleep, modesty, some light undressing—but only in the most practical sense—and then a strategic retreat to the bath chamber. Understood.” He looked deeply solemn for a beat before adding, “You are the most delightfully specific person I’ve ever been married to.”

He leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the conversation more than most royal banquets. “You can talk to me as much as you like. I can sleep through council droning about tax reform—I promise your voice is far more welcome.” Then with a dramatic pause, he added, “Though if you go past two hours, I do reserve the right to pretend I’ve fainted from exhaustion. It’s in the marital fine print, I’m sure.”

When she asked about the breeches, Oscar let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, they cover my legs. I’m not about to scandalise you with bare ankles.” His eyes twinkled. “you already survived a full night pressed against me, but I'll respect your wishes" he replied, genuine with all his affection. Then with a slight tilt of his head, he added, “And, long sleeves or short, you’ll still be the most radiant thing in that bed. Especially once you surround yourself with half the palace library.”

As the last of their dinner was cleared away and the soft hum of the evening quieted, Oscar rose from his seat and offered Eleanor his hand. “Come on,” he said with a lightness that didn’t push. “Let’s call that our grand banquet for the night.”

He guided her back through the dim corridors of the palace toward their chambers, their steps slow and unhurried. Once inside, he gently turned her by the waist, his hands steady but unintrusive as he found the fastenings of her dress. “Just enough to give you a head start,” he murmured, loosening the ties and buttons with practiced care, careful not to pull or tug. “The rest is yours.”

With that, he stepped away, giving her the space she’d asked for. Oscar disappeared into the adjoining room, and when he returned a few minutes later, it was with the sleeves and weight of the day shed. He wore only his sleep breeches, the hearth casting a warm glow against his bare chest, and a wry little smile played at his lips.

[feedybot]

Plump happiness

It was a quiet Sunday morning, the kind where time seemed to stretch and settle like warm syrup. The kind of morning made for soft blankets and bare feet on hardwood floors. Anny stood in the kitchen, her loose t-shirt just barely brushing the curve of her hips as she reached for the coffee mugs. The fabric lifted slightly, revealing a tender swell of tummy beneath—rounder now than it used to be, a gentle softness she was still getting used to.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the darkened oven door. Her cheeks flushed, unbidden. She tugged the shirt down quickly, even though no one was watching—except Leo, who had been watching her like this more and more lately.

He didn’t say much when he entered the room, just came up behind her quietly, arms sliding around her waist. She stiffened for half a second, as always, until his fingers settled over the soft lower edge of her belly and he gave it a slow, affectionate squeeze.

“Morning,” he murmured into her neck.

“Morning,” she said, her voice breathy.

Anny didn’t know when exactly the changes had started. Maybe it was during those cozy winter months, when Leo insisted on baking every weekend and always made sure her plate was full. Or maybe even before that—when they’d moved in together and the world outside seemed less important than the warmth between them. What she did know was that her body had changed in small but certain ways. Her jeans fit tighter, her bras clasped further out, and she avoided sitting in his lap like she used to. But Leo never complained. Quite the opposite.

He held her longer now. Let his hands roam more. And it wasn’t just her hips or her thighs that he gravitated toward—it was her belly. Soft, pillowy, impossible to ignore.

She used to flinch when he touched it. Now she just blushed.

“You’re staring again,” she mumbled that evening, curled beside him on the couch, a bowl of popcorn balanced on her middle.

Leo smirked, lazily dragging a finger along the curve that peeked from under her cropped pajama top. “Can you blame me?”

She turned her face into his shoulder, hiding the blooming color in her cheeks. He chuckled and shifted closer, letting his palm settle fully over her stomach. It rose and fell beneath his touch—rounder now, fuller than it had ever been. She didn’t say anything when his hand lingered, tracing lazy circles, fingertips teasing the softest edges.

“I love this,” he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Her heart skipped. “You do?”

“Mmhmm. Every part of you, but… this part especially.”

She didn’t know how to respond, so she just looked at him with wide, glassy eyes. Leo leaned in and kissed her temple. Then her cheek. Then, softly, the center of her belly.

Anny felt something melt inside her—shyness folding into quiet delight, into the warmth of being wanted just as she was, and maybe a little more than that. She reached for another handful of popcorn, smiling without meaning to. Maybe she wouldn’t pull her shirt down next time. Maybe she’d let him look a little longer.

And maybe… she wanted to see what would happen if she kept leaning into that softness.

Into him.

Into this.

*

The restaurant was warm and dimly lit, the kind of place where candles flickered in glass jars and every table was tucked into its own little nook. Anny had hesitated before they left the house—her dress, a soft burgundy knit, clung more than it used to. She’d tugged at it in the mirror, chewing her lip, unsure if she looked curvy or just overstuffed.

Leo had only smiled. “You look incredible.”

She blushed, as usual, and tried to smooth the fabric over her belly, which no longer sat flat. It gently pushed out in the front, plush and undeniable.

Their friends were already seated when they arrived, waving them over with a chorus of greetings. The food was rich and comforting—truffle risotto, garlic bread, small bites that kept arriving one after another. Anny wasn’t planning to eat so much, but every time she paused, Leo would gently slide something her way.

“Try this one,” he whispered once, hand brushing her knee under the table. “You’ll love it.”

And she did. Too much.

By the time dessert was being passed around, she felt full. Heavy. Her dress, once stretchy and forgiving, now pressed into her belly with visible tension. Sitting upright was a bit of a chore. She shifted discreetly in her chair, trying to relieve the pressure, but the hem lifted a little each time she moved, clinging tighter over her rounded middle.

Then came a soft, betraying sound.

Tkk.

It wasn’t loud—but Leo heard it. His eyes flicked to her waist, to where the side seam of the dress had begun to stretch too far. The thread hadn’t snapped fully… yet. But it would.

Anny froze, wide-eyed, her face going scarlet. She leaned into him slightly. “Leo…”

His hand was already on her thigh. Comforting. Protective.

“I know,” he said softly. Then louder, to the group: “Hey, sorry—Anny’s not feeling great. Think we’ll head out.”

There were a few sympathetic “aww’s” and offers to pay the bill, but Leo had already stood, guiding her out with a hand low on her back—just above where the dress clung to her fullest curve.

The night air was cool. As soon as they were alone, Anny let out a long, guilty sigh.

“I think it’s ruined,” she murmured, looking down at her stretched middle. “This dress can’t take much more.”

Leo leaned close, lips brushing her ear.

“I know,” he said again. “Let it.”

By the time they got home, she was too full to stand up straight. Her belly jutted out in front of her, tight and round and barely contained. Leo helped her out of her coat and stepped behind her, fingers sliding to the side of her dress.

Another soft sound—tkkk-pop—as one of the seams gave way entirely.

“Oh,” she gasped, startled.

Leo’s hands moved slowly over her sides, then front and center, cupping the swell of her belly. He kissed the back of her neck. “There she is.”

“I… I really overdid it tonight,” she whispered.

“Mmhmm. You looked so beautiful doing it, too.” His voice was low, reverent.

She leaned into him, flushed and full and quietly thrilled. “You really don’t mind?”

“I told you,” he murmured, lips now on her bare shoulder. “I love this part of you. Every soft, greedy, blushing inch.”

And then, gently, he helped her out of the dress. Or rather—he let it give up entirely.

It slithered down her body in defeated surrender, leaving her in nothing but a stretched pair of underwear and the fullness she carried.

He kissed her belly then. Slowly. Thoroughly.

And Anny, blushing fiercely but glowing inside, finally let herself enjoy it.

*

He led her by the hand, wordlessly, fingers laced with hers like he was guiding something precious. Anny moved slowly, her belly taut and sensitive, swaying gently with each careful step. Leo didn’t rush her. He watched the way her hips rocked, how her soft thighs brushed together, how the waistband of her underwear pressed a faint line into the gentle curve beneath her navel.

Once in the bedroom, she paused, arms folded across her front—half an attempt to hide herself, half an instinct she still hadn’t shed.

Leo stepped behind her again, wrapping his arms around her middle, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that,” he whispered.

She let her arms drop slowly.

He reached down and gave her belly the lightest squeeze—reverent, adoring.

Then he bent low, crouching in front of her like he was worshiping at an altar. His hands cradled her belly from underneath, lifting it slightly to feel its weight. She gasped quietly at the sensation.

“So full,” he murmured, almost to himself. “So round. You don’t even realize how beautiful you are like this.”

Anny whimpered, cheeks burning. “I feel huge…”

He kissed the center of her belly, slow and deep. “You are.”

She should have felt ashamed—but something in his voice made her tremble instead. She was too full to lie down flat, so Leo helped her onto the bed, stacking pillows behind her back until she could recline comfortably. She settled with a soft sigh, hands resting on her taut middle.

Leo climbed in beside her, shirt off, warm skin against hers. He pressed one hand over the rise of her stomach, rubbing slow, lazy circles. The pressure was just enough—gentle, soothing. Intimate.

She moaned quietly, half from relief, half from the way his touch sent heat rolling through her. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

He kissed the side of her belly, nuzzled the crease where it pooled slightly to one side. Then her hip. Her arm. Her flushed cheek. All the places she tried to hide, he loved most.

For a long time, there was nothing but the soft sound of their breathing and his palm gliding slowly across her swollen middle. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she didn’t sleep—not really. She was too aware of the way he touched her, the way he looked at her. Like she was art. Like every added curve was something he’d been waiting for.

When she finally whispered, “You like me like this… don’t you?”—he didn’t hesitate.

“I love you like this.”

Her breath caught.

“You feel safe with me,” he continued, his hand never leaving her belly. “And it shows. I see it in how you soften… how you grow.”

Anny bit her lip, cheeks warm, belly full and heavy beneath his touch. “I want more,” she admitted, barely audible.

Leo smiled against her skin.

“Then I’ll give you more,” he said, voice velvet-smooth. “More of everything.”

And he kept rubbing, caressing, kissing… until she fell asleep in his arms—blushing, full, adored.

*

Leo wasn’t gone long—just eight days for a work conference across the state. But to Anny, it felt longer. The bed had felt colder without him. The house too quiet. So she kept herself busy. Cooking. Snacking. Napping. Grazing through the afternoons in soft, stretched-out clothes that no longer covered what they used to. She didn’t weigh herself. She didn’t need to.

She felt it. Every morning, every time she stood up or caught her reflection.

She filled out the space around her now—plush, pillowy, slow-moving. She’d grown. There was no denying it.

And she was excited for him to see.

Leo opened the door just after sunset, dropping his bag and calling her name before he even stepped out of the entryway. “Anny? I’m home!”

“In the bedroom,” she called back, voice light, musical.

He walked in and stopped cold.

She was on the bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, wearing a soft bralette and high-waisted lounge shorts that had long since surrendered to the fullness of her middle. Her belly spilled over the waistband, round and swollen and proud. Her arms rested against her sides, too short now to fully wrap around the impressive arc of her stomach. She looked… glorious. Embarrassed and glowing. Plump and flushed. And completely, radiantly full.

“Hi,” she said, biting her lip.

Leo blinked. Then blinked again. “You… you were busy.”

Anny gave a shy giggle and rubbed her hand along her belly’s upper curve. “I missed you.”

He walked to the side of the bed slowly, reverently, like approaching something sacred. “You… grew.”

“I know.”

“Like… a lot.”

She flushed deeper, not looking at him directly. “I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to.”

Leo’s breath caught in his throat as he reached down and cupped the underside of her belly in both hands. It was heavy. Firm. So much more than before.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered. “Look at you.”

She let her head fall back against the pillows, arms flopping to her sides, legs parted slightly to make room. “I really can’t suck it in anymore. Not even a little.”

He leaned down, kissing a stretch mark just below her navel. “Don’t you dare try.”

“I can’t even reach anymore,” she added, half laughing, half groaning as she demonstrated. Her arms moved awkwardly around the sides of her belly, but they couldn’t meet across the front. “I’m just… here now.”

Leo stood, eyes dark with awe. “You’re perfect.”

She pouted. “I’m starving, though. All this belly and nothing in it.”

He smirked. “Say no more.”

Fifteen minutes later, Leo returned with a tray—fettuccine alfredo, warm bread, a bowl of strawberries, and a tall glass of milk. He set it on the nightstand, then climbed onto the bed beside her. “Open,” he said gently, picking up the first bite.

She did. And then the next. And the next.

Her hands stayed on her belly, stroking it as she ate, feeling it expand—bit by bit, bite by bite—stretching tighter, higher. She moaned softly at intervals, breath hitching as she shifted. But she didn’t stop. And Leo, ever patient, fed her slowly, rhythmically, eyes never leaving her body.

“You’ve gotten so big, sweetheart,” he murmured between mouthfuls. “I could watch you eat like this forever.”

Anny groaned, rubbing her side. “I don’t know how much more I can take…”

He leaned in, kissed her deeply. “Yes, you do. Just a little more.”

She let him guide her. Let him keep going.

By the time he set the tray down again, her belly looked impossibly stretched—round and high and wide, rising above her like a monument. She tried to sit up, whimpering at the effort. “Leo, I can’t…”

He was already there, pressing her gently back into the pillows, hands firm but loving. “Don’t. Stay right here. Let me help.”

He climbed beside her again, wrapping one arm under the crest of her belly and the other around her shoulder, holding her in place while he nuzzled her ear.

“You’re so full,” he whispered. “So helpless. So mine.”

Anny’s whole body trembled. “I’ve never been this stuffed before…”

“You’re beautiful,” he said, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder. “So soft. So heavy. I’ve never seen you like this—and I’ve never wanted you more.”

She couldn’t stop smiling, even as her body ached from fullness. “What happens now? Do you think I’ll get even bigger?”

Leo smiled into her neck. “Oh, I know you will.”

Anny blushed again, hiding her grin behind her hand.

“Can’t wait,” he whispered.

And he meant it.

Because loving her had always been easy. But loving more of her—watching her let go, soften, surrender—was something he would never get tired of.

[hopeswriting]

Haru's really smart btw. She goes to midori middle school, which yams said is one of the hardest elite all-girls schools to get into. Her dad also teaches maths at a university, so that must have helped her too growing up. She also said she has tutoring from five to six. She does gymnastics and is at least good enough to participate in school's competitions, so you know she's athletic. She has that balance and agility and flexibility and core strength going on for her. She's so crafty and good with her hands. The disguises and costumes she's able to make? Girlie could disappear herself and keep living in namimori just fine. She'll butt heads with you to stick up for herself and her opinions. She'll stand by her principles and what she thinks is right no questions asked, even if it means resorting to violence, which she isn't afraid of and will also do without a second thought lmao. She'll wait for you to get out of prison and write you a lot of letters should you ever kill someone. She'll come with you whenever you have to get rid of an enemy family but will pretend she doesn't see any of it for your peace of mind (which was so funny of her actually zjeksjsk 😭😂). She'll test you to make sure you're still a good person worthy of her liking you and confront you about it if it fails. She'll make sure you're a good person full stop if she thinks you're up to no good even if you've never met before. She'll try to kidnap you to keep you safe when the students at your school are targeted and attacked. She'll put on a brave front for you so you can worry less about her and focus on the things you have to do. She's impulsive and reckless and prone to jump to conclusions. But she's also kind and brave and helpful and resourceful and driven and strong-willed and always well-meaning. She's girly and quirky and friendly and hardworking and energetic and fun and always ready to encourage you and cheer you up.

Anyways. I didn't plan to write all that and turn this into crying over what haru's character could have been hours, but here we are. Also i'm not necessarily saying amano should have just made her mafia too and given her a gun or something lol. I do personally think it wouldn't have gone against her character and i'd have enjoyed watching that happen, but i don't mind that she remained a civilian throughout the manga at all. I don't think it makes her uninteresting either, for sure. I'm just saying that not only she had potential, but there was also actual room within the story to make her a well-fleshed out supportive character. Like, my girl has all of this going on for her and what did we get?? Yeah, that's right. 😔

[freedelusionshere]

They set up all of the stuff that was in S4 and circled back around to it.

On rewatch, Emmanuel had meds for a heart condition. So he finally does have a heart attack and Syd, she protects her relationship with her dad because it’s so precious to her.

Syd is afraid of being in love with Carmy just as he is with her. And it’s not just Carmy she names his family as part of the chaos, which is true.

Her life with her dad is very chill. She didn’t want Carmy at the hospital on one level and on another probably did for herself but she’s protecting her dad from their chaos. And you can tell this isn’t what Emmanuel wants, for her to be afraid and put her life on hold for him, but she has and then thrown in pretty much everything else she has left over into work.

Syd does have friends and she doesn’t prioritize them, and is starting now to realize, like Carmy she needs a life outside of work, too, because her dad isn’t going to be there with her forever. That’s why she chooses to stay because the Berzattos are also her family, even though they’re messy.

Her running and being chased in her dream by a bear and trapped in this very white cooking show where she’s dressed like Martha Stewart (or young Donna, take your pick) is her feeling stuck. She even gets the same red/blue lighting mix of hot/cold.

Carmy tells her she’s The Bear because he doesn’t want to be it, but he knows she loves this and it’s important to her, and the restaurant is a source of life with her in it, and he’s messed up. However, patterns and Carmy are such that he’s now reenacting what his father did to his mother. Which is what Donna kinda warns Syd about at the wedding. It’s what Lee warns him about himself.

Carmy spends most of the season trying to be better and also focusing on his past, Mikey in particular. As I said on another post, Carmy and Richie were destroyed by the mask wearing and the toxic masculinity they were around. No one was ever emotionally honest. People wore masks.

Carmy was always pretending and trying to be someone more than who he was. He had all the professional success and it wasn’t enough for him which is what Tina hits on. So when you take that away of course he says he doesn’t know who he is inside the restaurant and like Syd, he never bothered to make a life outside the restaurant or try until recently with Claire.

He doesn’t think Syd will see him as anything without being the guy who is great and so good at this and he’s burnt out trying to be that. He wants more and up until she yells at him, “You’re my partner!” I don’t think he believed that she wanted that from him or thought of him like that as anything but related to their work relationship, because she won’t let him in closer.

And he says he’s her friend which is of course a throwback to that “friend that’s a girl” conversation because he’s been trying to be a friend and not the other thing he was trying to be for once. He told her in the first episode he liked being there with her and she said it sounded depressing and by the time he goes to apologize to Claire he’s already decided what he’s going to do.

He also finds out Syd very likely was never going to sign the partnership agreement and she wasn’t telling him about Shapiro so all he had left to give her was the restaurant but without the thing fucking it up which was himself. And he’s right. But also, he needs to stay and fix the mess he made. Which, it will keep coming up all season that he doesn’t do that and leaves when things get hard. So he starts trying to do emotionally hard things.

But Claire is also stuck and has some kind of darkness in her past and it’s not going to work because he’ll realize without people growing around you, you will stop growing. Carmy has already run before. He wants to find himself outside of cooking and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his family or Syd. Claire literally tells him he can’t run away like that from her and then he immediately makes plans on running.

He turns to Claire because she knows his family is chaotic and it’s a source of shame to him, he is embarrassed by them, Richie is correct. He’s learning not to be and just accept them as flawed people, like he is, which will help him to stop busting his own balls.

Claire’s residency is up so she’s also free to leave. But Claire sends Carmy digging around into his past (like she did for that green sweatshirt in Mikey’s closet of secrets) and all season he’s like in the worst part of Groundhog Day where he realizes he didn’t know Mikey at all, that he’s been holding onto anger and resentment, that he’s not the best at his job it’s the woman he’s in love with, and that he’s terrible and has gotten in her way.

But he hasn’t made it yet to the part of the movie yet where he stays to fix the chaos and in doing so fixes himself. He hasn’t gotten to the part yet where he wakes up and the clock radio plays a different song.

However, that fight in the last episode and them all actually being honest with each other and realizing that if he wants to leave he’s going to have to come up with a plan and that he’s not just getting to bail and get off easy is what he agrees to.

Syd is also a part of their family now she stopped running away from that, and like they said at the wedding once you are a bear you are always a bear.

That’s what is set up for S5.

[orlaunderrated]

The Edges of Us: Chapter 12

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Will Lenney x fem reader; George Clarke x fem reader

Summary: Y/N has always been close to George—but everything changes when she catches feelings for his sharp-tongued, infuriatingly charming friend, Will. Torn between loyalty and desire, Y/N finds herself caught in a messy tangle of friendship, secrets, and unexpected love.

Word Count: 6.3k+

Note: This is a bit disjointed :/ but i hope you still like it!!

xxx

I slump against the back of the couch, my legs still sore from the night out. It's quieter than it’s been in days, and I finally have a second to breathe, to think.

The couch I'm sitting on now isn't the same as it used to be. It’s still the same cushions, the same fabric, but it feels all wrong. Too stiff. Too empty. I can feel the weight of every moment that’s passed since I last found myself stretched out here, back when I didn’t have to think twice about being here. Back when it was just… home.

I used to walk into George’s flat, plop down on this couch without a second thought. It was my refuge. The place I could always count on, even after a rowdy night out or a long, tiring trip from Manchester. The blankets never stayed in place, the pillows were always slightly off-center, but none of that mattered. It was perfect in its imperfection, and it made me feel like I belonged here.

But now, as I sink into the worn cushions, it feels like I’m sitting in someone else’s space. The couch hasn’t changed, but everything else has. I can’t quite get comfortable. The fabric feels foreign under me, like I’m sitting in a place that’s been claimed by someone else. Maybe that’s what it is—this couch doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It hasn’t felt like it in a long time.

And the worst part? It’s not just the couch. It’s us. George and me.

Back then, this couch was ours. It held the weight of all our unspoken jokes, our easy conversations, the kind of talks that only happen when you’ve known someone so long you don’t have to try anymore. But now? Now, this couch is Switzerland with a throw blanket. Neutral. Safe, but in a way that doesn’t matter. We’ve become strangers, tiptoeing around each other, avoiding the things that matter most.

The cushions press into me, but they don’t comfort me anymore. I can’t help but wonder if the couch misses me. Or maybe it’s not about the couch at all. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m just holding onto something that’s been gone for a while, like this space, this life I once knew, but don’t know how to live in anymore.

I sigh, looking around the room. Everything feels off

London doesn’t feel like home.

I’ve been here long enough now that I should feel more rooted, right? But something about this place still feels so... foreign. The city is too big, too busy. Everyone's on a mission, too preoccupied with themselves to care about the newcomer trying to carve out a little space in it all.

And George—well, George was always too preoccupied. Too busy with his own life to care about mine. He never introduced me to his friends—not properly, anyway. I was just the girl who showed up sometimes, drifting in and out of the background of his nights, the one who sat quietly on the couch, the one who hung out in the kitchen while everyone else made plans. I don’t even think he noticed how I ended up alone when he was off with his mates, disappearing into the crowd like I was just another fixture in the flat.

There was that one party—Calfreezys? During my first two weeks in London. The one where he took me, thinking it would be fun, and then basically ghosted me the entire night. I stood in the corner, nursing my drink, watching everyone else laugh and mingle, while George was in his element, making jokes with his friends, slipping into his world like I wasn’t even there. He didn’t bother to introduce me properly. Just a quick, “This is YN,” before turning away, as if the rest didn’t matter.

I tried to laugh it off then, tried to convince myself I didn’t care. But deep down, I knew. I knew I wasn’t part of it. That night, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be, but it felt like a cold reminder.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just a visitor. Like this place is temporary, but I can’t even tell if that’s because I’m waiting for something to change or because I’m waiting for myself to find the courage to leave.

I know I’ve harped on about this for the entire time I’ve been here, but I can’t shake it. The loneliness is sinking into my bones, creeping up like a cold draft that I can’t escape, no matter how many layers I put on. It’s more than just being by myself—it’s the constant hum of the city that never slows, the sea of faces that I’m never a part of, the noise that only makes me feel more invisible.

I didn’t think it would feel like this. I didn’t think I would feel this... lost.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s just the city, or if it’s me. Maybe I’ve gotten so used to hiding behind jokes, behind distractions, behind whatever George and his mates thought I should be that I don’t know how to not be alone anymore.

But... Will.

Will is the only thing that almost feels like home. The way he holds me when it’s just us, how his arms wrap around me like they were always meant to. The way he makes me laugh when the weight of everything feels like it’s pulling me under. When he’s around, everything feels a little bit simpler. Easier. And for the first time in ages, I don’t feel so...

alone.

Yet at the same time, he’s also the one thing I can't quite fit into place.

There’s always this distance between us. Not in the way we talk or the way we touch, but in the way we never quite ask the deeper questions. He doesn’t ask too many of them. He doesn’t expect much from me, either. He’s content to let things flow, to leave things unsaid, and maybe that’s part of why it works—or why it feels like it works. But I can feel it—the quiet uncertainty. This weird in-betweenness we’re both floating in, unsure of what comes next, both of us reluctant to make it anything more than what it is. We haven’t labeled it, haven’t defined it. And part of me is fine with that. It’s easier this way.

Still, when I’m with him, it’s like there’s a quiet truth between us. Something unspoken but understood. No matter the silence or the tension, there's this strange comfort in knowing that we’re both feeling the same thing... or at least, I think we are.

But god, it’s so much fun. I’ve not had this much fun in so long.

Exploring each other—emotionally, physically—everything feels so new, like we’re testing the boundaries of something neither of us fully understands yet. It’s light, it’s playful, it’s intense in a way I never imagined. I don’t know if we’ll ever have it figured out, but for now, I don’t care. I just want to keep laughing, keep making memories with him—before the inevitable question of what happens next arrives.

But for now, I’m lost in the moment—lost in the way he looks at me, the way we make each other feel alive—and I don’t want to think about what’s coming next, not yet.

xxx

I don’t know when it became a secret, exactly. It’s not like Will and I sat down and drafted a pact over takeaway noodles. No one said, “Let’s hide this from the group.” But it’s sort of happening anyway.

Quiet texts. Late-night Ubers. Him slipping out of the flat before anyone else wakes up.

And when someone—usually George—asks where I’ve been, I say something vague. “Just at Ruth’s.” Or, “Stayed at a mate’s.”

Not always a lie. But not the truth, either.

And Will doesn’t call me out on it. He just… plays along.

Like it’s a bit. Like it’s part of the fun.

Maybe it is. Maybe it started that way.

We've only just crossed that line, after all. We’re new. Unlabelled. Fragile in the way new things are. Keeping it to ourselves made it feel easier. Lighter. Like we could enjoy it without having to explain it.

Without giving everyone—George included—a reason to dissect it. Because if we say something, it becomes a thing. And things in their friend group? They don’t stay quiet for long. Everyone has opinions. Everyone likes to joke. Everyone has a social media platform that something could accidently be spilled to.

And Will and I… we don’t even know what this is yet. So we keep it close.

Private.

Ours.

Still— There’s a part of me that feels weird about it. Like I’m sneaking around when I shouldn’t have to. Like the other night, when I got home late and George asked where I’d been. I said “just at Ruth’s” before I could think twice. His expression didn’t change much, but something about the way he looked at me made my stomach twist.

Not because I think he knows. But because I hate the way part of me still cares what he thinks. And maybe that’s what I’m trying to avoid.

The commentary. The comparisons. The questions that would come if people knew. Like, “I thought you and will didn’t get along?” Or worse—“Wait, is this why things have been weird with George?”

It’s not.

At least, I don’t think it is. But the truth is… Will and I are figuring it out. We’re still laughing our way through the awkward bits.

Maybe I’m afraid of George finding out because I still care what he thinks.

Maybe it’s because some part of me is still bitter he didn’t want me, and now I don’t want him to think I moved on so fast—like I never meant it.

Like I was just lonely.

Or maybe it’s because I’m scared that if I say it out loud—“Will and I are a thing, kind of”—

then it will be a thing.

And I don’t know what the hell I’d do with that.

xxx

Will and I fumble into my flat like we’ve broken in, like the night is something we’ve stolen and have to spend fast before anyone notices.

He hasn’t been back here since that night—since he kissed me with all our friends just one room over, like he couldn’t help himself. Like it didn’t matter.

It kind of did, though. Everything felt a little too loud after that.

I don’t know how we ended up here tonight. He has his own place. He lives alone. That’s the whole benefit of dating a man who doesn’t share walls with three other YouTubers and a collection of mystery tripods.

But I was finishing late at work. He offered to wait. We had a drink. And then another. And I guess when you have three glasses of wine with your pub dinner and he’s looking at you like that, you start thinking sleeping together in a flat with three roommates and paper-thin walls is actually a good idea.

Spoiler: it’s not. But right now I don’t care.

His hands are on my waist. We’re both slightly uncoordinated—half tripping over my trainers, knocking into the IKEA shoe rack that’s somehow always loose on one side. He’s laughing into my neck like this is all funny, like we are funny, and I love that. I love that we can’t quite walk in a straight line around each other.

He presses me against the door just as it clicks shut behind us, and I feel it—that slow, heavy thrum of want. Familiar now, but never dull. It’s always a little new with him. A little dangerous in the best way.

“I thought we were going to yours,” I murmur against his jaw, already breathless. Only now realising just how silly of a plan this is.

Will grins, unbothered. “You looked like you needed saving, and your flat is closer.”

I huff a laugh. “So this is charity work now?”

He leans in, breath warm against my ear. “Public service.”

I roll my eyes, but he’s already grinning like he knows exactly what he’s doing. I kiss him to shut him up—hard and fast—but it backfires. His hands slide under my shirt like he’s been waiting hours, not minutes, palms warm and greedy against my skin. Like we’ve got all the time in the world and I've got no flatmates.

Then I’m pinned against the kitchen counter. My breath hitches, my heart racing a little faster than it should. Instinctively, my hand goes back, steadying myself against the cool granite. Of course, this means I knock into the spice rack.

A few jars tumble, crashing into the sink with a clatter that feels way too loud for a moment like this.

“Will,” I hiss, breath catching as his fingers toy with the clasp of my bra. “We’re in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Flat’s quiet,” he says, like that’s all the justification he needs to get me half-naked next to the toaster.

I bat his hand away, half-laughing, half-scandalized. “You’re out of your mind.”

He smirks, that devilish cocky grin making my heart stutter. “You’re into it.”

Before I can protest again, my hands are on his wrist, tugging him toward my room. My breath hitches. My self-control is about to completely combust.

“Will,” I snap, glancing nervously toward the hallway. “Someone could walk in.”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even hesitate. The smirk on his lips is pure mischief, but his eyes—they’re all hunger now. “Then you better hurry up and take me somewhere I can do this properly.”

I don’t think twice. I grab his wrist again, this time pulling him into my room with a sense of urgency that only makes everything feel worse—in the best possible way.

God help us if George’s door is open.

My door clicks shut behind us, and the hum of the hallway light fades as Will crowds me back toward the bed—my bed, crammed between boxes of ring lights, tangled cables, and a monitor that hasn't been turned on in months.

We are pressed up against the door like criminals hiding a body — except the crime is tongues and poor impulse control.

Its starts like it always does with Will—messy, impulsive, like we might both think better of it if we paused for even a second. It's familiar now, reckless in a way I didn’t expect to crave.

I grip the edge of his hoodie, dragging him closer, and my back hits the edge of the mattress, half-covered in unfolded laundry. He laughs against my mouth when he knocks over a ring light leaning against the wall. The light hits a case of old tripods, and something inside rattles, loud in the quiet.

"Jesus, your room's a death trap," he mutters, voice low.

"It’s not mine. It’s a glorified storage unit with a bed," I whisper back, tugging him down by his collar. He comes willingly, all heat and hands and that annoyingly cocky smirk. "But t’s fine. If anything falls on us, we die doing what we love," I whisper, trying not to grin.

He raises an eyebrow. "Shagging in a storage cupboard?"

“Something like that.”

He kisses me again, deeper this time, and I forget where the joke ends. His hand slides beneath my shirt, warm against my skin, and I lean into it, into him. The room smells like dust and laundry detergent and the faint citrus of his shampoo.

I can hear George’s voice faintly from the next room. Something about editing. He's probably still up, headphones around his neck, furrowed brow, legs crossed in that way he does when he’s hyper-focused.

And I hate that I notice.

Even now.

Will's hand skims my waist, fingers brushing skin where he's pushed my shirt out of the way. I suck in a breath, not from surprise—I've gotten used to this routine with him—but from how easy it is to forget everything when his mouth finds the side of my neck.

"You're thinking again," Will murmurs, pulling back just enough to search my face.

"I'm not," I lie. He knows I am. He just doesn't press.

My suitcase is still half-unzipped in the corner. Clothes spill out of it like I never really decided to stay. Like I was waiting to see how it would feel here before committing to drawers.

Will’s hand slides into my hair, tugging gently as he kisses me again—deeper this time. I let myself fall into it. His mouth. His weight. The scratch of his stubble against my cheek like an anchor, grounding and familiar. His knee nudges between my thighs, and my breath catches, involuntary and aching.

And then, Laughter, through the wall.

George.

Followed by another voice—female, warm, soft in a way that immediately twists something sharp in my chest.

I go still. Will notices. Of course he does. His thumb brushes my cheek, his voice low, gentle, lips ghosting mine.

“You good?”

I nod too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, just—” But my pulse betrays me. I can hear George. Probably still perched at his desk, headphones half-off, hoodie hanging loose the way it always does when he gets lazy about the heating. He’s probably tapping his foot, laughing at something on screen, completely oblivious to the way his voice still curls like smoke into the corners of my room.

Will doesn’t move. Doesn’t pressure. He just presses his forehead to mine with a soft sigh, like he already knows where my head is trying to wander.

“We can stop,” he says quietly. “If you’re not in it.”

But I am.

I shake my head, firmer this time. “No, no, please. I want this. Want you.”

It comes out muffled, tangled between kisses, but I mean every word. My mouth is on his again before I can second-guess it—desperate, certain, like I’m trying to prove it with my teeth.

Will makes a quiet sound against my lips, somewhere between a breath and a groan, and it lights something in me. He pulls me closer, like he’s been holding back and I’ve just unlatched something in him. His hand slides down my back, anchoring, fingers curling at the hem of my shirt like he’s memorizing the shape of me.

“I mean it,” I whisper, and this time I pull back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face, trying to make sure he knows. “fuck, please, right now, I just—need you.”

Will’s expression shifts—softens and sharpens all at once. Like he’s letting himself believe me. Like I’ve just answered a question he wasn’t sure he was allowed to ask.  

His forehead presses to mine again, and for a second, we just breathe there. No rush. No pretending.

Then he kisses me—slower this time. Sure. Reverent in a way that feels like he’s thanking me without saying a word. His hands are everywhere now, but careful, always careful. Like I’m something worth holding right.

And maybe I am.

I want to be.

I want him.

Not just because he’s here and George isn’t.

Not because he’s warm and beautiful and knows exactly how to touch me like I’m something worth figuring out.

But because when he looks at me, it’s real. Solid. No second-guessing. No waiting to be chosen.

With Will, there’s no power game. No unspoken test I have to pass.

There’s just us.

His hand on my hip.

His mouth on my neck.

The way he always checks in like I matter.

And I know it’s messy. I know it’s early. I know I haven’t untangled all the knots left behind. But Will isn’t a placeholder for the feelings I haven’t processed. He’s something else entirely. Something new.

I pull him down with me, wrapping my legs around his waist, not out of desperation—but decision.

A choice.

Because I want him.

I want the way he kisses me like he means it.

The way he makes me laugh when I’m two seconds from spiralling.

The way he never makes me feel like I have to be anything more or less than exactly who I am in this moment. The laugh through the wall fades. So does the echo of everything I haven’t said.

I kiss Will again—harder this time, yes, but not out of anger. Not out of pain. Out of certainty. Because for the first time in a long time, I feel wanted. And more than that—I feel like I want someone back.

Fully. Freely.

And he’s right here. On me. Around me. Mine.

His weight presses into me like a secret, warm and heavy and real. His hands slide under the hem of my shirt, skin to skin, and I can barely think, let alone breathe.

"Literally everyone is home, we have to be quiet"

“You’re the one making noise,” he mutters, dragging his mouth back to mine. “If someone hears us, I’m blaming your inability to whisper.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I whisper, deadpan. “Next time you stick your tongue down my throat, I’ll take minutes instead.”

Will huffs out a laugh.

“That’s the attitude that made me hate you, by the way.”

“You didn’t hate me,” I murmur, letting my hand wander up under his T-shirt.

“You just couldn’t handle me being funnier than you.”

“I still can’t,” he admits, smiling against my lips.

It’s crooked and soft and the kind of smile I know I shouldn’t read into — and do anyway. We stare at each other for a beat too long. Then he kisses me again.

It’s back to messy. Hungry. More desperate — like we’re both running out of excuses but sprinting forward anyway.

I tug at his hoodie, and it—and the T-shirt underneath—are gone in one smooth pull, tossed carelessly into the open suitcase by the bed.

My work shirt follows, slipping off my shoulders and landing somewhere between a pile of tangled cords and the box labelled "wires??" in Sharpie.

Everything feels like it’s unravelling. In the best way.

Like we’re pulling thread from something too tight, too tense, and letting it fall loose.

His mouth is on my collarbone now, hot and steady.

My fingers dig into the bare skin of his back, and all I can think is yes, this—this is what I want.

Right here.

Right now.

Him.

Let George have his night.

I’m having mine, too.

Xxx

Will’s hand is resting flat on my thigh, warm and relaxed. His breath is slow, close against the back of my neck. I’m not sure if he’s asleep yet—I’m not even sure if I want him to be.

The air’s cooled a little, window cracked open from earlier. I can hear London beyond it—distant sirens, the hum of a train, the occasional clatter of someone drunk and laughing down the street.

I don’t know why the quiet always makes it worse. Or clearer.

My suitcase is still open on the floor. Half-packed, like I’m still not sure if I’m really staying. Like some part of me is still waiting for an out, like I’m still waiting for a sign that this isn’t where I belong.

I thought Brisbane would be it. Thought maybe if I went back, things would settle. That I’d feel anchored again. But my grandma died, and suddenly everything that once held weight felt hollow. Familiar streets didn’t comfort me. Sunshine didn’t fix anything.

Nine months later, I was dragging my life through Heathrow again. George said I could crash here—"Just till you find your feet"—like no time had passed since uni. Like we hadn’t grown apart and moved cities and maybe moved on.

But here I am. In George’s spare room. In George’s flat. In George’s life.

Except right now, it's Will's skin against mine. his laugh still ringing softly in my ear from earlier, his hands moving like he actually wants me—not like I’m just a passing thought.

I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t expect him, of all people—the one who used to roll his eyes at everything I said, who once told me I looked like a stressed-out Pomeranian when I tried to parallel park. But something changed. Slowly. Quietly. And now he looks at me like I matter.

And I think—I really think—this might be something.

Not just a distraction. Not just a reaction to George.

I wanted George. For so long I thought maybe he’d feel the same. When I finally took the leap, he kissed me—and then stepped back like I’d thrown a grenade. A silence followed that stretched for a month, colder and heavier than any outright rejection.

But even as I try to move on, part of me still reaches for George—the way his smile flickered with something unspoken, the hesitations that hung between us like a fragile thread, the endless waiting for something that maybe was never meant to happen.

But here I am, lying in my bed with Will , tangled up in questions I don’t have answers to: Why him? Why now, when everything felt so locked down? What exactly am I supposed to do with this sudden softness from him?

Will doesn’t make me feel fragile or half-seen. He teases, pushes, pulls me close, but beneath the surface, there’s something quieter, something harder to read. Like he’s waiting to see if I’m worth the risk.

I shift, careful not to wake him. We’ve never done this before—been here like this, quiet and tangled. Will he leave soon, slip back into his own life where I’m just a late-night memory? Or maybe—just maybe—he’ll stay a little longer. Take me out for breakfast before work, buy me a takeaway coffee before I catch the tube. The thought feels both hopeful and terrifying, like a question I’m not sure I’m ready to ask out loud.

Still, lying here now, I let myself imagine what it might mean if this could be more. If Will’s here for me, not because it’s easy, but because he chooses to stay.

I press my face into the pillow, soft with his scent.

It’s not love. Not yet.

But maybe it’s a start.

Xxx

The kitchen smells like garlic and basil, sharp and bright, with a zing of lemon zest teasing at the edges. I’m standing at the counter, swirling the glossy green pesto around the bowl like it’s some kind of sacred elixir, while Ruth hacks away at the pine nuts with a precision that can only be called professional.

“How do you make this look so damn easy?” I ask, trying to mimic the way she moves—effortless, like she’s been orchestrating pesto symphonies since birth.

Ruth shrugs, her lips curving into that lazy, half-smile that usually signals she’s not giving up all her secrets. “Mostly luck. And a lot of stirring. You have to coax it, not shove it. Pesto’s a diva.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “A diva with a killer taste, then. I’m just trying not to murder it.”

“You’re doing fine, Pesto Padawan,” she teases, tossing me a wink. “Just don’t ask me to babysit a soufflé.”

I’m about to reply when Ruth raises an eyebrow, a new energy in her voice. It’s not her usual easygoing tone—it’s more… sharp, like she’s picking up on something I’m not saying.

“So,” she says, leaning in a bit, her eyes scanning me like she’s about to crack open a secret. “You never told me what actually happened after Friday. The night you vanished with Mr. Brooding. Did he even like you, or was he just hungry?”

I feel my pulse skip. I try to keep it light, but the weight of it—the reality of Will and I—is there, humming under the surface. “Yeah, well… we ended up going home together.”

Ruth’s grin widens like she’s won some sort of personal victory. “No shit, Sherlock. But seriously, why? And what now?”

I shrug, suddenly feeling exposed, vulnerable in a way I don’t want to admit. “I just… stopped pretending it wasn’t a thing. And he was into it, which helps. We’ve been seeing each other, kind of… casually. Trying to keep it on the down-low.”

Meanwhile, we’re both elbow-deep in the pasta prep, a mountain of spaghetti still swirling in the pot—enough to feed a small army. The smell of garlic, basil, and pine nuts fills the air as I continue to mix the pesto, Ruth adding more oil with a knowing flick of her wrist. This is no small batch; we’re making enough pasta to feed half the building.

Ruth folds her arms, her gaze sharp as she watches me, her lips pressing into a knowing smile. “So, this is cloak-and-dagger stuff. Keeping it from your flatmates too?”

I nod, feeling that familiar tension creep in. “Yeah. Sometimes, it feels like the apartment’s weirdly silent. Like I’m... hiding something. But I don’t want to make it a thing. No drama, no heavy expectations. Just... whatever this is. But that’s the problem.”

Ruth sets down the knife with a soft thud, her expression shifting, as if she’s not just reacting to me but feeling me, too. “Whatever this is? You sound unsure. You and I both know you’ve never been great with ‘casual’ anything. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending. Whatever’s going on with you and Mr. Brooding—if it’s more than just sex, then maybe it deserves to be out in the open.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I try to shrug it off, but the truth is, I know she’s right. It’s all a mess of half-truths and missed signals. “It’s not that simple, Ruth,” I mutter, still stirring the pesto like it’s going to give me some answer.

Ruth’s eyes soften. She steps forward, setting a hand gently on my shoulder. “Yeah, I know it’s not. But when you’re already juggling two lives, it’s hard to figure out where you even belong.”

My chest tightens at her words. She’s got this way of cutting through the noise, and it stings. “London’s so damn big,” I mutter, my voice quieter now. “Everything’s just... harder here. I thought it’d feel different, you know? Like I’d find something—someone—who made it feel less lonely.”

She tilts her head, as though weighing something. “And does Will do that? Make it feel less lonely?”

I freeze, my spoon stilling in the bowl. Ruth’s got that directness about her that I can’t escape. And honestly? I don’t even know what to say. So I settle on something that’s technically true but not exactly the full picture. “He makes it better, I think.”

Ruth smiles, though it’s tinged with something softer now. “Sounds like you’re already halfway there, then.”

I shake my head, trying to suppress the tension building in my chest. “I just... I can’t tell if I’m doing this right. I want him, but I can’t just make this real yet. It’s... too messy. And besides, what if George finds out?”

Ruth’s expression hardens, just slightly, like she’s already piecing this all together. “Yeah, I get it. The thing with George. But you can’t keep letting his opinion weigh so much. You’ve got to start doing things for you, YN. George doesn’t dictate who you’re allowed to see. So, why does it matter so much what he thinks?”

I bite my lip, caught between the truth and the guilt I feel. “I mean, I guess... you’re right. But I’ve known George a lot longer than I’ve known Will. He’s one of my best mates. And right now? Everything’s just so weird with him. I don’t even know what to call it. We’ve never been like this.”

Ruth’s eyes narrow, considering. “Exactly. You’ve been mates with him for years. You can’t let him control your life just because it’s a bit messy right now. Besides, you’re not just shagging Will, it’s... different. And I know that.” She leans in a little, her voice quieter now. “It’s okay to have things that are just yours, you know? You’re allowed to keep that. You deserve that.”

I swallow, feeling the weight of her words settle on my shoulders. But then something clicks, and I can’t help but deflect, the weight of George’s expectations still hanging over me like a cloud. “I know. But I don’t want to make things worse with him. He’s always been there for me. Letting me crash on his couch whenever I needed it... it’s just… I feel like I’m betraying that somehow. And I don’t even know what to do with that feeling. It’s just so weird now.”

Ruth’s mouth twists into a little smirk, her usual playfulness returning. “Diva, you need your own place.”

I blink, thrown off for a second. “What?”

She folds her arms, leaning against the counter. “You need your own space, YN. A place where you don’t have to worry about George walking in on you or pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. You can’t keep playing in limbo. It’s unhealthy. No wonder you’re getting all tangled up with how you feel about Will. You’ve been hiding for too long.”

I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle over me like a heavy blanket. I try to brush it off, but the truth is, Ruth’s right. My “room” is nothing more than a corner of the flat that’s more like a storage unit than a space of my own. The walls are lined with mismatched furniture, boxes, and random stuff—Georges old textbooks, clothes Arthurs outgrown, the things Chris has shoved away when he didn’t want to deal with them. The only real “furniture” I own is a bedframe, a mattress, and a second-hand bedside table that my glorified-fuckbuddies friend saw on Facebook marketplace.

“I’ve been looking, Ruth. I’m not just sitting here doing nothing. It’s hard. I’m a foreigner, and all my uni flats were sublets. I don’t even have the documented rental experience that landlords want. No one’s taking me seriously, especially when my references are from student gaffs.”

Ruth smirks at that. “You’ve been hanging around northerners too much,” she teases, a grin tugging at her lips. But it fades quickly as she studies me, her expression shifting into something half-sympathetic, half-exasperated. “God, I hate how difficult the rental system is for people like you. But you’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t keep pushing for it. Seriously, YN, don’t let this city swallow you whole. Get out from under George’s roof. It’s time you had your own place, your own life. You’re not a visitor here anymore.”

We've finished our pesto now. Its staying hot in the hotbox.

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “It’s not that simple. I’ve tried everything. I’ve been calling estate agents, checking places... and nothing’s come through. I’m starting to feel like London just doesn’t want me here.”

Ruth, without missing a beat, opens the fridge and grabs a tub of mascarpone, while I begin rinsing the pasta. Her movements are automatic now, and within a few seconds, we’re both silently gathering ingredients for dessert, like it’s second nature. She pulls out a box of ladyfingers and a bottle of espresso—of course, I didn’t even have to ask.

Ruth reaches over, squeezing my shoulder like she’s trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. “London doesn’t want you to quit. Don’t let it win. And you’re not alone in this. Will’s on your side, too. He’s not just a distraction; he’s your support, even if things feel weird between you two.”

The words feel heavy, but they also land in a place that I didn’t expect. “You think so?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

She nods, her smile warm, but determined. “I know so. And you don’t need George’s permission to make this work. You’ve got to go after what you want, YN. I mean, look at us—how long did we wait to make this volunteering thing happen? But we did it, right? You’re stronger than you think. Just trust yourself.”

I look at her, feeling something settle in my chest. Ruth’s got a way of making me feel like I can do anything, even when the weight of it feels like too much.

“Alright, alright,” I say with a forced grin. “I’ll keep looking. But honestly? I might end up with a cardboard box on the corner if this keeps going on much longer.”

Without missing a beat, Ruth grabs a mixing bowl, dumping the mascarpone into it, while I grab the sugar and the coffee. She looks at me, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Don’t tempt me to come be your roommate. I’ll take cardboard box next door.”

I snort. “Yeah, because that’s gonna be fun.”

We move in sync, the conversation flowing naturally as we whip up a quick tiramisu—no planning, just muscle memory. Ruth’s got a way of making the kitchen feel like it’s ours, no pressure, no expectations.

Ruth bumps me with her hip as she grabs the pasta pot, and we fall into our rhythm again—laughter, lightness, and the feeling that for a moment, I’m not just trying to survive London. Maybe, just maybe, I’m beginning to belong here. We spoon the layered dessert into small cups, finishing with a sprinkle of cocoa powder, all while making plans for our next mid-work catch up lunch.

It’s easy. And the loneliness that is deep-set in my bones starts to melt away, just a little. The rhythm of cooking, the low hum of Ruth’s voice, the familiarity of it all—it's like a temporary escape from everything that’s weighing me down.

xxx

Taglsit: @meglouise00 @migilini @thankyoulovely @mosviqu @formulaal @jonnybernthalslover @tiredqzl @mrswillne @ravenaz

[joooooniecore]

After all this time - Chapter 8

Your friends have been successful enough to drag you out of your workaholic routine for a vacation out of country.

The only problem? Your long term crush who actually used to be your best friend is also going there. And he is bringing his girlfriend, your ex-female best friend.

What could go wrong? Right?

✧˖* pairing: ex-bestfriend!mingyu x f!reader

✧˖* chapter count: master-list

✧˖* genre: ex-best friend mingyu, friends to strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow-burn, smut.

✧˖* playlist: spotify playlist

✧˖* full work warnings: resurfaced old feelings, toxic relationship(not between the main characters), angst, confusions, resentments, past misunderstandings, a very slow burn

✧˖* explicit warnings: penetration, explicit language, cursing, bodily fluids, praising, body worship.

✧˖* author's note: apologies for not posting last week everyone. in short, i had a horrible week as i got sick twice and then lost my prescribed glasses (i am very blind), hence was unable to look at the screen and do work. i will be posting chapter 9 on monday(30th june). so enjoy this short chapter. the story is almost ending so i hope you are enjoying this. love y'all!<3

--- love, artemis.

✧˖* tag-list: @ana-marais98 @hellosighsophy-blog @ppaia @mingyuisthevictimofsvt @tokitosun @iarayara @cheolliesvt @seungcheolsblackcard @alohacrispyrn @minhui896 @callmemadhatter @xxluvzrrrx

COMMENT TO BE IN THE TAG-LIST!<3

<< chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6 | chapter 7 | chapter 8>>

It was Christmas. A day filled with warmth and coziness. You have woken up pretty early and decided to spend the day in the nearby shopping mall. The others didn’t have any solid plans so few of them were going to rest – clearly from the hungover while a few of you decided to visit the Wenceslas square to get some shopping done. This place had beautiful clothing items that you have been eyeing for quite a long time. You have seen the local females wear such beautiful clothing that it almost tempted you to ask them the store names.

After breakfast you announced your plan to the rest of the group and Jihyun was ever so willing to tag along. She threatened Vernon to come with her because she needed to buy some clothes herself. Vernon being the ever so gentle elder brother, agreed. Seungkwan wanted to go but he needed to get some work done along with Chan so he stayed behind.

Seungcheol was the only one who didn’t feel hungover but he still refused because he wanted to take care of Jeonghan who was definitely hungover.

“I need one more person. The Chwe siblings are a menace. Please.”, you almost begged as Jihyun smirked beside you.

“I will go then.”, Mingyu’s groggy voice filled the room.

Your eyes went wide. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to take him along. Maya would put the house on fire if she finds this out. Mingyu on the other hand seemed nonchalant about it.

“A...Are you sure?”, Jihyun asked for you.

“Yeah. If you are worried about Maya then don’t. She is too hungover to wake before 3.”, Mingyu said without even looking up from the sink where he was washing the dishes.

You dumbfoundedly stared at his back before deciding to take a shower and get dressed. The ride to the square was not long, almost a walking distance. You got dressed up warm and met the rest of the group on the front porch of the house.

After reaching the place, you decided to first walk around a little, trying to take in the shops and areas. There were food areas and even designer shops. The place was all flashy and rich. You and Jihyun kept giggling as you saw all the beautiful things and pretty clothes.

“Let’s go to that shop. I love the coats in there.”, Jihyun pulled you in the shop.

The coats were beautiful as you ran your fingers through the soft fabric of them.

“You should try the blue one.”, Jihyun said as she pointed at a royal blue coat placed on a mannequin.

“Okay.”, you softly said as you asked the employee to let you try it.

The coat was extremely warm and cozy and you almost closed your eyes in satisfaction as it slipped over your body. The waist was snatched which gave your body a perfect shape. The royal blue color looked beautiful against your tan skin as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“You look beautiful in this ma’am.”, the lady said.

You bashfully nodded as you saw Mingyu and Vernon enter the shop through the corner of your eye. Mingyu couldn’t see that you were able to see him so you blatantly stared at him through the mirror and saw how his expression changed.

Mingyu’s eyes went wide and then softened. A smooth smile playing on his lips as he slowly took you in. Your cheeks turned red but you didn’t let it affect the way your face looked. You observed the way he heaved a sigh as he shook his head and walked towards you and Jihyun.

You quickly turned away from the mirror and started opening the buttons to take off the coat.

“Are you buying this?”, Mingyu said as he approached you.

“Uhm I am not sure.”, you doubtfully stated as you have already seen the price tag.

“Come on ____. Buy it!”, Jihyun started nagging.

“Doesn’t she look good in this Mingyu?”, Jihyun went along asking.

You knew what your friend was doing and you somehow hated every moment of it. You hated how your cheeks reddened when Mingyu checked you up and down. You hated the way his eyes smoothly glided over your entire body. Suddenly the coat felt too warm to be on your skin. And most of all, you hated that you can’t show your emotions openly, because Mingyu has a girlfriend and that made you feel extremely guilty.

“Fine I will buy it.”, you said with an eye roll as you walked up to the payment desk.

Jihyun also chose a smaller coat as she paid for her one. Then you both decided to move to the other shops. Most of them sold winter wear and it was not logical to buy so many winter clothes as it might make your suitcase even more heavy.

There are already ample winter stores in Korea so you decided to look for some good summer clothes or even evening dresses.

There was this one shop that was selling elegant dresses and Jihyun almost begged Vernon to buy her one. He compiled and all four of you were inside the beautiful shop.

“Hello. Welcome you beautiful ladies.”, the lady greeted as she welcomed you in.

“I am the owner of this shop and all the designs here are made by me.”, she informed as she allowed you both to wander.

“Really? That’s incredible.”, you beamed surprisingly.

There were several dresses and you helped Jihyun to find her perfect one. After searching for a few minutes your eyes caught on a hot pink dress. Jihyun’s a sucker for pink and you knew she would love it.

“Try this one.”, you said as soon as she peeked out of the changing room.

Her eyes twinkled as she took the hot pink cocktail dress in. It had a halter top which showed the perfect amount of skin to make it look sexy. The dress was dazzling and short – a perfect dress for new year.

“This is gorgeous. Wait!”, she squealed as she closed the doors again.

The dress fitted her like glove as she twirled in front of you. You were giggling as you fanned yourself dramatically.

“Perfect dress for you.”, you said to her.

“And what about you?”, Mingyu asked as soon as you both got out of the dressing room and Jihyun has left your side to make Vernon pay for it.

“Me? I already purchased a coat. Not exactly budget friendly.”, you said with a chuckle.

“Come on. You need to buy one.”, Mingyu nagged.

“I can buy plenty when I get back home.”, you tried to reason.

“I know but you should. I am paying.”, Mingyu declared and didn’t take no for an answer. He pushed you towards an array of dresses even deeper inside the shop.

You unwillingly went through the rows and rows of pretty dresses trying to find something that was cheap.

“Don’t try to buy something cheap.”, Mingyu suddenly spoke which made you flinch.

“I-I wasn’t.”, you grumbled like a child who was just caught doing something wrong.

“I know your habits like the back of my hand.”, Mingyu whispered right beside your ear before walking to a different direction to look at few dresses himself.

“Stupid big man.”, you mumbled as your eyes fell on the perfect dress.

It was a sage green strapless dress. A short length one to be precise. The color was beautiful. You have always found the soft green color amazing. It almost feels calming to the eyes. When you pulled out the dress, the first thing that caught your attention was a big bow in the front, on one side of it. That made it look even more adorable. Your eyes sparkled as you decided to try it on.

The dress felt amazing on your skin. The soft satin fabric hugged your curves perfectly as it gave you the little sexy minx look. You clicked a few pictures before coming out of the dressing room to possibly call Jihyun to show her the dress for approval.

You came face to face with Mingyu as soon as you came out. He was leaning against the nearby wall, waiting for you to come out. You couldn’t help but blush as you saw him lazily walk up to you.

“Does this look good?”, you asked shyly.

“It does. You look beautiful.”, Mingyu said with a big smile.

The butterflies dare to come out of your belly when Mingyu racked his eyes over your entire body but you stayed still as if moving an inch would make you crumble to the floor. Just on time Jihyun came in and gasped when she saw you.

“You look beautiful.”, she whispered as she hugged you tight.

“Thanks.”, you smiled.

After shopping, the four of you decided to eat something before heading back home. There were several restaurants and most of them looked extremely good. After checking the reviews online, you all decided on one and went inside to eat.

“Did he pay for the dress?”, Jihyun asked once you all were back home.

You both were currently seated in your room as you decided to get some packing done. There were two more days left of your trip and you needed to make sure that you have packed everything well. Tomorrow was solo day so you decided on a comfier outfit with normal running shoes because you were planning to check the museum of the Prague castle out. Last time you went there as a group, you didn’t get time to do so. You have already looked the booking procedure online and also downloaded a guide so that you don’t get lost.

“Yes, he did.”, you said as you packed things you didn’t need anymore.

“Ooooh, I hear spice.”, Jeonghan’s teasing voice filled the room as he came inside after spending time with Seungcheol.

“Shut up Jeonghan.”, you grumbled as you sat on the bed.

“But it seems that he has distanced himself a little from Maya.”, Jeonghan stated.

“Huh? Why?”, you couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t know but Seungcheol does. He won’t tell me because it’s a bro code or something. But what I feel is that Maya is cheating or has led him to such a point that he doesn’t care about her anymore.”, Jeonghan shrugged.

“I see. Did you see them now?”, Jihyun asked.

“Yes. I saw Maya sitting in the balcony of her room when I went down to the lawn and then when I came in, Mingyu was seated on the couch.”, Jeonghan said as he lied down on his bed.

“That’s weird.”, Jihyun said as she thought deeply.

“Let’s not make a fuss about it guys.”, you said with a sigh.

“He would tell us when he wants to.”, you said as you shooed Jihyun out of your room and decided to take a short nap.

In the evening everyone decided to watch some crappy Christmas movie. You sat beside Chan as Seungkwan sat in front of you on the floor. He was constantly pinching you whenever a cringy scene was shown on the screen.

Jeonghan sat on the love seat with Seungcheol and you really didn’t want to know what they both were doing there. Your eyes wandered to Jihyun and Vernon as they were mostly gossiping and not paying much attention to the movie. Jihyun was sitting on the right side of Seungkwan and Vernon on left. Seungkwan himself was not paying much heed to the movie even though he did react to the giddy romance scenes.

You then involuntarily looked at Mingyu. He was beside you but at a distance. There was the armrest of both the sofas separating the two of you. Sometime along the duration of the movie, your hands did brush his as he kept his hand on the armrest at the same time as you. You didn’t know why but none of you decided to move away and hence you could feel his burning hot skin against yours which somehow increased your heart rate but also calmed you down. Maya herself wasn’t paying much attention as she was continuously on her phone texting someone. You couldn’t see who as your mind was foggy just from a single touch.

The dinner time soon came as you and Seungkwan prepared some ramyeon while Mingyu friend some chicken and roasted a few pieces of pork. The three of you peacefully worked side by side like old times as once in a while someone would crack a lame joke and the rest two would laugh out loud.

“You guys seem in your element.”, Seungcheol commented as he entered the kitchen to get some water.

You turned around to smile at him and that’s when you noticed Maya glaring at you. You didn’t want it to ruin your night so you ignored it. She has ruined your self-confidence a lot in the past and now after so many years, you wouldn’t allow her to affect you in the same way. You weren’t flirting with Mingyu, nor were you being touchy with him. Seungkwan was in the middle and you have decided to maintain a good distance when she was around.

And despite that she was glaring which made no sense. She could see the respectable distance and if she was really bothered by the way you laughed along with Mingyu when Seungkwan cracked a joke, then so be it. You have never been someone who stole someone else’s boyfriend and you won’t let her prove otherwise.

After dinner you decided to read a little and then go to bed. The living room was dead quiet as you lied down on the couch and read a book. You have always loved reading in the dead of the night. The pages flew by as you enjoyed the soft silence.

Your mind is always running so silent nights like this always brought you peace. You found the chaos fun but you also craved for some sort of peace. The book was interesting and you weren’t exactly sleepy to go to bed early. The snow was falling outside and the sound almost fell like a calming tune.

“You are still awake?”, came a gentle whisper that made you look up from the couch.

There stood Mingyu in all his glory. Somehow, he has ditched his t-shirt and that made it even more difficult to peel your eyes away from him. He stood there; half of his body illuminated by the soft glow of the kitchen light. You didn’t turn on any lights as you brought your reading light with you. It clamped to the book and gave you enough light to read perfectly even in the darkness.

“Yeah. Decided to read a little.”, you said as you sat up.

“You also like the quietness?”, Mingyu said as he sat beside you. His fresh cologne immediately hitting your nose. His body felt warm against the blanket you were wrapped in.

“Yes, I do.”, you quietly replied as you closed the book.

“I remember that. You used to go to the university library at odd times.”, Mingyu reminisced.

“Yeah. I remember you had to bring me back to the dorm once because it started pouring.”, you laughed as you recalled a memory.

“I miss the old days.”, Mingyu confessed and somehow you felt it too. You both had been inseparable in college and yet you never got the courage to confess. It was so messy that you almost died of guilt when you distanced yourself from him.

“Yeah, those days were easier. No stress of life.”, you laughed a little as you subtly scooted away from him.

“I hope we can again become friends.”, Mingyu spoke as he looked at you and you could see the feelings in his eyes. He was looking sternly as if he meant every inch of what he said. It was serious for him and you almost felt him move a little closer.

“W-We can be. We can catch up after we get back home.”, you stammered as you looked anywhere but him.

“Yea catch up….We can do that.”, Mingyu said almost in a hypnotised tone.

“Don’t leave me again, ____.”, Mingyu finally stated as he stood up and went to his room.

You released a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in as you tried to calm down your thumping heart. Mingyu was too close for your liking and the way his eyes bored down on yours, you couldn’t even move as if pinned in place by his sharp gaze.

Mingyu always had a way to make you shy and giddy and even after all these years, you can’t help but imagine how life would have been if you would just have confessed like a normal person. The ego was too much back then and now the time had gone. It was too late to make him yours so you settle your heart on being his friend again.

click <<here>> to go to chapter 9!

✧˖* end notes: posting every monday! do suggest me ideas if you have any. also do like and comment!! it gives me motivation to write better.<3

[paramountinplace]

Could you write something about Mari shyly asking if she could get a Luke skywalker action figure cause she saw that Mel got a Darth Vader action figure as a reward. Van and Tai were at first very skeptical thinking maybe she was asking as a new way to tease Mel but no she just secretly loves Star Wars. And absolutely lights up when they (hesitantly) agree to get it for her.

(I am pushing my silly little ‘Mari is actually a secret nerd’ agenda)

I Choose Luke - Little!Mari

Summary: As detailed above! Mari badly wants a Luke Skywalker action figure, but is met with a bit of skepticism. Turns out, she just loves Star Wars.

Mari had been inching closer and closer to Van ever so slowly, trying to make her approach seem casual. Van was pretending not to notice the girl staring at her and taking a few steps closer at a time, wanting to see how this was going to play out. Finally, Mari gave up the act of casually getting Van's attention and threw herself down on the couch next to her.

"Oh, hey, kiddo!" Van greeted, enthusiastically. "Where'd you come from?"

The look she got in return was disbelieving.

"I was right there," Mari replied, pointing a few feet away.

"I didn't even notice," Van said drily.

Mari huffed but waved a hand between them dismissively.

"I have a question," she stated. Van nodded encouragingly. Mari took a deep breath before speaking again. "I want a new toy."

"You've got an allowance, don't you?"

"No!" Mari cried, crossing her arms. "You know that."

"Alright, alright, sorry, kid," Van relented. "Done with the jokes."

"You know how I've been so good about not getting into fights with Shauna?" Mari asked.

Van considered this. Mari had, by all accounts, been unusually well behaved in the past week. She'd gotten into no more than two minor disputes with Gen, hadn't said a mean word when Misty came home drenched by the rain, done all her chores without being asked, and taken care of Akilah for a whole day without complaining about it once. And, as she'd claimed, she hadn't gotten into any fights with Shauna—not even when the other girl had nicked a few of Mari's barbies to use in her reenactment of the Titanic.

"You have been quite good about that, Mar," she agreed. Mari's face lit up and she nodded eagerly, leaning a little closer to Van in her excitement.

"And you know how you got Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit?"

Van nodded. They had gotten Mel something for getting her cast off without throwing a fit, as had been frantically promised by Tai when Mel burst into tears upon being told she would have to go back to the hospital in a week to get her cast off. She'd very carefully picked out a Darth Vader action figure, holding up proudly to Van once she'd made her selection. Mel had been in a bit of a Star Wars phase and had been wearing the same Stormtrooper-emblazoned hat every day for more than a month.

"We did do that, yeah."

"So, I was thinking maybe I could get something too if I keep not fighting with Shauna," Mari mumbled, suddenly shy as she looked down at her lap.

Van smiled, reaching out to tip Mari's chin up. She didn't think Tai would mind if she agreed without consulting her.

"That sounds like a great plan, bub," she said. "If you can give me one more week without fighting, we'll go to the store, okay?"

The ultimatum motivated Mari so much over the next week that she strayed into absurdity—avoiding Shauna at all costs, which Tai quickly put a stop to when she realized and explained to Mari that while she was glad she was taking it so seriously, avoiding Shauna was probably more likely to end in a fight than just being nice.

Despite one minor spat, Tai and Van decided at the end of the week that Mari had done well enough to earn her reward. Mari was thrumming with quiet excitement as they buckled her into the car, kicking her feet happily as they made the trip to the store. She was so excited that she didn't say a word as they arrived, letting Van and Tai follow her into a toy aisle as she weaved through the store with expert precision.

She picked something up off a shelf and turned back to them.

"Done," she murmured. Tai blinked as Van hide a chuckle behind her hand. They'd been expecting as least twenty minutes of back-and-forth alongside multiple requests to go to a different store or to type something into Google to see if there was a better version of a toy.

"What've you got, honey?" Tai asked.

Mari bit her lip before revealing the toy from behind her back.

"Luke," she whispered.

Van winced, knowing immediately that they were gonna have to vet the pick before they allowed her to take it home.

"Why Luke, Mar?" She asked gently, trying not to seem too accusatory. It just seemed a little too opportune with Mel's new Darth Vader figure. Mari was clever—she could find a way to use the toy to taunt Mel in some way.

Mari looked a little confused at the question.

"Because," she said matter-of-factly, "he's a Jedi and he's the best fighter of all of them. Even better than Obi-Wan."

Van had to hide her face behind her hand again, so endeared by the answer that she could barely keep from laughing. Now that she was thinking about it, Mari had been present at every single one of Mel's Star Wars movie nights. She kept pretending her bike helmet was a Stormtrooper helmet and she'd gotten into a row with Mel about which lightsaber color she would have if she were a Jedi. She'd even begged for a copy of the Lego Star Wars game for the Nintendo, which Van had barely thought twice about because of course Mari wanted that one—it was the third coolest one.

"I think she's serious, Tai," she murmured. Tai nodded slowly, still a little skeptical.

"What are you gonna do with Luke?"

Mari shrugged. "Make him fight my Barbies. Fly an X-wing. Maybe get stranded in the freezer. Dunno yet, really."

Tai's face melted into a smile and she nodded.

"Alright, Mar. Let's pay and get you home, then."

She bounced up on her toes, grinning happily as she reluctantly handed the toy over to Tai so she could pay for it while her and Van looked at the trading cards by the register. Once paid, she reached for it again and kept it held closely against her side the entire ride home, sprinting into the house once they'd arrived to find Mel.

"Look, Mel, look!" She cried, skidding into the kitchen.

"Shoes!" Tai reminded, shucking her coat off. Mari toed them off where she was standing, leaving them in the middle of the floor as she and Mel took off to get her Darth Vader figure to play with. She hadn't even taken Luke out of the packaging yet.

Van went over to pick up the shoes, returning Tai's eyebrow raise with a smile and a shrug.

"Aw, c'mon, she's so excited. She wasn't trying to be a pain. You'd let me get away with it," she defended, watching a Tai's mouth twisted into a smile.

"I would," she hummed.

Mari came sliding back into the kitchen, breathless and brandishing her toy with Mel close behind her.

"Can you help us open this, please?" She asked sweetly. Tai grabbed a scissors from a drawer, carefully extracting the toy from the plastic as Mari and Mel watched, tense with anticipation.

"There you go," she said, handing Mari the toy. Mel squealed and immediately ran into the other room, but Mari hesitated by Tai's side for a long moment.

"Um, thank you for the toy," she rushed out, cheeks flushing as she gave Tai a quick hug, doing the same to Van before she hurried after Mel.

"Too cute," Van mused, shaking her head, "too cute."

I never know how to end these. Hope you enjoy, anon, sorry for the bit of a wait!