#and I feel like there's a lot of emotions that need to be untangled before Luigi would actually talk openly about what he went through

[pianokantzart]

Thing I wish was explored more in fic/fanart: Luigi feeling guilt over revealing Mario's name, even if under duress. Once the crisis is over and Luigi has time to think, he realizes how that slip-up could have gotten Mario killed. Him feeling like, had they swapped places, Mario never would have revealed Luigi's name.

This feeds into my headcanon that after he was rescued, Luigi didn't ever talk about his time in The Dark Lands, and certainly didn't talk about the interrogation. Not only is there a lot of fear connected to those memories, but a lot of guilt and shame, not just because of what his brother went through to save him, but the fact that he didn't put up a fight against The Shy Guys and... most of all... the fact that he gave in and cracked during Bowser's interrogation. Like you said, he feels like if they'd swapped places Mario wouldn't have been so "weak."

It is definitely something I'd like to see explored further.

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | Part 4

Artist! Joel Miller × Florist! Reader

series masterlist | previous chapter | next

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (Joel is 36 and reader is 28). Remember that "Bee" is reader's nickname, fluff, some feelings are being confessed, smut, angst, EXTREME ANGST. Okay, this is where everything goes to hell.

a/n: This one is more than 7k and is the longest piece of writing I've written here, so please, give it love🥺 Reblogs and comments are appreciated and help a lot be noticed by more people. I love this one, not the writing but the chapter as a piece? Sorry for any grammar mistakes and sorry in advance for the chapter.💌

masterlist

The next morning, it was Sunday and you thanked God for it. You were tired and the events from last night still lingered in your head, Joel, Connell's proposal, and the mix of feelings because of it. 

“Move to London?” you asked Connell, as if you couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth.

Connell looked at you with a patient and reassuring smile, understanding the magnitude of the decision he had just proposed. He reached out and gently took your hand, his touch comforting.

"Yes," he replied softly, "Moving to London would be a big step, and I don't want you to say yes right now. Take all the time you need to think about it. I'm willing to wait."

You nodded, appreciating his understanding and patience. The idea of moving to a new city, even for love, was overwhelming. You needed to consider your job, your life, and the ties you had built in your current home.

“Or is there someone?” He asked, “Oh my god”. He covered his face with his hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask about that”.

You graced a tiny smile, comforting Connell

“So, is there someone?” 

“It’s complicated.”

Connell's expression softened as he gazed into your eyes. "Bee, I want you to be happy. If there's someone else in your life, I'll respect that. But I just had to be honest with you about my feelings and my intentions."

You appreciated his understanding and his willingness to accept your situation, even if it was complex. The bond you had shared with Connell was strong, but your involvement with Joel had added layers of confusion and uncertainty to your life. It was a tangled web of emotions that you needed to untangle before making any decisions.

Connell leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Take all the time you need to figure things out, no matter what. You choose me or choose whoever the other guy is, I'll be for you."

With his reassuring words, you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders, knowing you had Connell's unwavering support, whatever decision you eventually made, and that made your heart feel at ease for once. 

Nevertheless, you didn´t remember what happened after that. You both drank wine, you mostly, and you knew that you drunkenly confessed everything about your and Joel's “agreement” to Connell.

You felt embarrassed. Having Connell back helped you to see things clearly, and with your birthday coming soon, you were even more stupid for doing this at your age.

You decided to go back to sleep to avoid overthinking it. However, your attempt to do so was interrupted by a knock on your front door. You groaned and glanced at the clock; it was eight in the morning, and you couldn't bear facing a person at this time. Nevertheless, and still feeling a bit dazed from last night's wine, you dragged yourself out of bed and stumbled to the front door. Last

When you opened the door, you were met with Joel standing there. He looked like he hadn't slept much either. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he appeared slightly disheveled as if he had rushed over to your place first thing in the morning. 

"Joel, what are you doing here so early?" you asked, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Joel hesitated before answering, his face displaying conflictive emotions "I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?"

You felt like this wasn’t a good idea right now, but you stepped aside, allowing him to enter your home.

 As he entered, you couldn't help but notice he was carrying two bags.

"I brought breakfast," he said, offering a faint smile.

You couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was an attempt to make amends after last night's dinner with Lauren, and you were on guard. You didn’t want to show him he was having an effect on your emotions. 

"Joel, what's all this?" you asked, gesturing at the bags as he placed them on the table.

Joel took a deep breath, his gaze on your eyes. "I know I messed up last night, and I'm really sorry for everything that happened. I was hoping we could talk and sort things out."

Your guard was still up, but the sound of his voice touched your heart. "Joel, last night..."

He cut you off gently, "I know, Bee, I know. I want to explain. Please, let me."

"I won't pretend that last night wasn't complicated," Joel began, keeping his gaze on the breakfast he was preparing. "I know I hurt you by having dinner with Lauren. But please believe me, it wasn't what it looked like."

You remained silent, letting him continue.

Joel's voice held a note of frustration as he explained, "Lauren and I have a history. Yes, but we have something in common and Sarah wants to know her mother. I can’t deny her that right.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubts lingered. "Actions speak louder, you know?”

“I have nothing with her,” he said, widening his eyes as he looked into her eyes. 

You could see the sincerity in his eyes. You wanted to trust him, to believe that he had good intentions. It was a complicated situation, one you had never expected to find yourself in.

“So, what are you suggesting?" you asked, your voice cautious.

Joel sighed, with relief and anxiety in his expression. "I'm suggesting that we reevaluate our agreement. Maybe we can redefine our boundaries and communicate better about our feelings."

You considered his proposal, thinking about how this might change things between you two. Despite the pain and confusion, a part of you also cared about Joel. It wasn't easy to let go of something that had brought so much comfort into your life. 

“Okay” you smiled in agreement. Knowing you should tell him about Connell’s proposal, but you hadn’t the strength to do it. 

Joel mirrored your actions, and he turned back to the breakfast he was preparing; you felt the weight of the both of you on your shoulders. This situation was far from simple, and your heart was torn between wanting to trust Joel or starting a new life with somebody you already trusted.

“So, you woke up today and decided to come here?” you asked.

“Actually, yes, that’s what I did,” he laughed. “I didn’t know you were in a hangover though, sorry for that. Did you and Lily hang out last night?”

“Actually, I had dinner with Connell,” you said, anticipating his reaction.

“Your ex?”

“Yes.”

Joel's expression shifted, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he processed the information. He clearly hadn't expected that response.

"Dinner with Connell," he repeated, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and uncertainty.

You nodded, feeling the need to explain. "He had something important to talk about, and he's leaving for London soon. It felt like the right thing to do."

Joel took a moment to collect his thoughts, then replied, "Well, I guess it's good you two talked. You should figure things out. I mean, he's your ex, and he's moving away."

His words were calm and understanding, which was a relief. You had braced for a more tense reaction.

"Yeah," you said, appreciating his mature response. "We're just trying to be on good terms before he leaves."

Joel gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. The conversation had taken a different turn, and the complexities of your feelings and relationships weighed heavily on your mind. You hoped that both Joel and Connell could find their respective places in your life, but the path ahead was far from clear.

You just omitted the part when he asked you to leave with him. 

Joel gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful. The conversation about Connell hung in the air and Joel decided to break the tension by returning to breakfast. He finished preparing the meal, and the two of you sat down to eat. The atmosphere was lighter, and you both made an effort to talk about less complicated topics, sharing stories and laughs over your food.

You still found it funny how you both went from not talking at all to talking about anything. 

After breakfast, as you helped Joel with some preparations for his upcoming exhibition, you couldn't help but think about the new direction your life was taking. Joel had proposed reevaluating your agreement, and Connell had asked you to go with him to London. The decisions ahead were daunting, and you knew that clarity would be hard to come by.

Joel was also deep in thought as he arranged some artwork, and eventually, he broke the silence. "Bee, I know things have gotten complicated, but I genuinely want to make this work.”

His words were sincere, and you could sense his determination. It was a lot to process, but you couldn't deny that you also cared about Joel. The choices you had to make in the coming days would be defining moments in your life, and you hoped you could find a path that would lead to happiness and fulfillment, no matter how complex it might be.

With your birthday coming in three days, you felt that your new year of life would be different. 

The timing couldn't have been more challenging as Joel's upcoming art exhibition was just around the corner. The preparations for the event were in full swing, and you were doing your best to help him with the decoration and catering.

The gallery was buzzing with activity. Paintings were being hung, sculptures were being arranged, and the space was being transformed into a captivating display of Joel's artwork. You couldn't help but be impressed by his talent and dedication to his craft.

As for your "relationship," you and Joel were navigating it with care. It was a tricky balance of pretending to be a couple while not letting your true feelings get in the way. Sometimes, the lines blurred, and it became challenging to differentiate between the act and reality.

You worked closely with Joel to ensure that the gallery's decor matched his artistic vision. Together, you chose color schemes and hung string lights to create a warm and inviting atmosphere. The collaboration brought you closer, and as you worked side by side, there were moments when you exchanged genuine smiles and shared laughter that felt far from fake.

Convincing everyone about your relationship was an ongoing challenge. You played the part of the affectionate girlfriend, exchanging hugs, kisses, and sweet nothings with Joel. The outside world saw the two of you as a couple, but you knew the truth lay somewhere between reality and pretense.

As the event drew near, the question that remained was whether you could maintain the charade or if it would evolve into something real.

The day of your birthday dawned, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. The recent developments in your life, your family and friends’ birthday wishes, and Joel’s upcoming art exhibition made this birthday unlike any other.

As you made your way to the gallery to leave the usual cup of coffee for Joel, you felt a sense of excitement. You couldn't deny that you enjoyed spending time with him, but you also knew that this fake relationship was getting more complicated by the day due to feelings getting involved. 

When you arrived at the gallery, you were greeted by the soft glow of string lights and the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee. The space looked even more beautiful now with Joel's artwork on display. It was evident that he had put his heart and soul into his work.

Just as you set the coffee on the table, Joel appeared, a warm smile on his face. He walked over to you and pulled you into a gentle hug, pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. "Happy birthday, Bee," he whispered.

The simple gesture was filled with genuine warmth, and it touched your heart. You felt your cheeks blushing at his touch. 

"Thank you, Joel," you replied with a smile.

Joel gestured to a small gift wrapped in a simple but elegant box. "I got you a little something," he said, his eyes filled with anticipation.

You accepted the gift and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a beautiful necklace. It was a delicate piece of jewelry with a pendant in the form of a flower that resembled his art and your essence together. You were taken aback by the beauty and thoughtfulness of the gift.

"It's beautiful, you said, genuinely touched by his gesture. "Thank you, Joel."

He smiled, and for a moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred again. It was a birthday gift that felt meaningful, not just because of the necklace, but because it came from someone who had become an important part of your life.

Joel pulled you into another hug, and you realized that, despite all the complexities and pretense, this connection was becoming real. 

"Thank you for this," you said, gesturing to the necklace. "It means a lot to me."

Joel took your hand and looked into your eyes; his gaze was sincere. "You mean a lot to me."

Your breath sucked in, leaving you breathless as his words hung in the air. You knew that this fake relationship had evolved into something more, something that was real.

Joel's hand in yours felt warm and reassuring. As you stood together in the gallery, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the future, even if it remained uncertain. Your birthday had taken an unexpected turn, and you had a feeling that more surprises were yet to come.

"The gallery is closed for the morning because we have someone to celebrate today," Joel said with a playful grin.

You chuckled; the weight of the world momentarily lifted. "Alright, what's the plan?"

Joel leaned in and whispered, "I have a few more surprises up my sleeve. But first, let's enjoy some coffee together."

........................

The day moved forward in a whirlwind of excitement and celebration. Joel had arranged a surprise birthday party for you in the gallery. Your friends, including Lily, and even Sarah, were all there to celebrate with you. It was a beautiful gathering filled with laughter and warmth, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for the people in your life.

Joel played the perfect host, making sure everyone felt welcome and comfortable. You saw how he effortlessly blended with your friends. His charm and genuine smiles seemed to win everyone over.

As the evening progressed, the party was in full swing, but Joel leaned in to whisper in your ear, "I have one more surprise for you. Why don't you come to my place tonight? Tommy won’t be there and Sarah will stay with Lauren tonight, and I was hoping for some alone time."

You couldn't help but smile,"I'd love to."

Joel's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and you realized that there was more of him that you hadn't fully explored. 

The clock ticked away the hours, and eventually, it was time to leave the party behind. You said goodbye and made your way to Joel's place, with him by your side, and the atmosphere completely changed after that.

When you arrived at Joel's home, it welcomed you with the soft lighting and cozy ambiance in his living room. Set the perfect mood for what was to come. Joel's living room was bathed in the soft glow of light, and you couldn't help but feel a warm sensation at the gesture. He excused himself for a moment and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you wondering what other surprises he might have in store.

As you sat there, Joel returned with a small tray of desserts. On it, there were beautifully plated mini cheesecakes topped with fresh berries, and a bottle of your favorite wine was chilling in an ice bucket nearby.

"This is the second part of your birthday surprise," Joel said with a mischievous smile. "I thought we could end the night with something sweet."

Your heart swelled with affection for his thoughtfulness. As you indulged in the delicious treats and sipped wine, the evening took on an even more romantic tone. The intimate setting, combined with Joel's genuine affection, made your birthday feel like something out of a fairytale.

You found yourself drawn to Joel's eyes, and he to yours. It was a moment when pretense gave way to something authentic, something that had been growing between you for the last two months. With every shared smile and every tender touch, the unspoken emotions between you became stronger.

Joel reached out and took your hand, his fingers gently tracing circles on your palm. The atmosphere was charged with unspoken desire, and it felt like the perfect time to take things to the next level, to explore what was real and true between you. 

“Bee,” he said, looking straight into your eyes. 

They were focused, eye to eye with his lips close to yours. 

You were completely alone. You were in his house and both of your worlds were mixing together to become one. And your heart pulsed at the sound of the nickname he gave you years ago, something that seemed foreign back in those days, but now the tone lacing the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Happy birthday, Bee” he smiled, attaching his lisp to yours for a passionate kiss, flipping you over so he could be over you.

After that, everything happened so fast. Neither of you knew when you got rid of your clothes, but there was too much desperation in your touch, you wanted to see the way his fingers could make a mark on you, tracing lines of invisible traces over your body.

He was hovering over you, meeting your lips in a passionate kiss. He was in the right between your legs where you wanted him the most now. 

He detached his lips from yours for a moment to look down at you for a moment. To admire the features of your face, and the nature of your body being displayed just for him right now. You felt the crimson color rushing up to your checks and for a moment you felt embarrassed under his stare, but he smiled at you.

“You look beautiful”. He swallowed hard, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He kissed you again, slipping his tongue past your lips, gasping when he felt your fingers running your fingertips across his bare chest, tracing the lines of a map leading to where you couldn’t stop.

With one of your hands, you pulled him down by his neck to hold you against your lips again. Once you tasted them, you couldn’t get over the taste of them over yours, and you couldn’t get over the whimpers he left in your mouth. 

His hands on your tights only increased the sparks in the place you wanted him the most, you wanted to follow the path even when you knew it was leading to a treacherous destination. 

You continued kissing slowly as he caressed your thighs, as he wanted to worship your body and devour every single sound coming out from your mouth. He kissed you down over your neck, kissing, nipping your skin between his teeth.

And God, he loved the way you were making him feel. The fact this time was different to that night in the gallery some nights ago. At this moment, you weren’t driving for only passionate reasons, but for caring feelings for each other. You weren’t in a rush and that turned him on. He was hard for you and he wanted to meet where religion was, between your thighs. 

Both of you gasped out loud the second he started to push slowly inside you. His hands reached for yours to interlock them together as he kissed you with softness, whispering “You’re so beautiful like this”. He was hypnotized by the way you were nervously laughing as you tossed your head back in pleasure. He bit your neck, causing your hands to follow their way up to his neck and his hands roamed down all of your body without a layer of clothes on you, focusing on every thrust, going deep to make sure he was making you feel good. 

You opened your eyes to stare back at him, looking completely focused on you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as his hands caressed your breasts as he kept devouring your lips, your back arched followed by a moan against his lips. Every thrust felt so good you couldn’t help but feel you were in heaven. You could feel you were getting close as you squeezed him and you kept your eyes locked on each other. He pushed faster, with one hand caressing your cheek and the other holding your leg to ensure you fell apart. 

The noises you made drove him crazy, feeling himself coming to the edge of the cliff. He wanted to look at you under him as you came, and with a loud gasp, it happened and he did it at the same time, falling over your bare chest, with your heartbeats becoming one.

Yes, you had sex and you crossed the line you couldn’t, but at that moment, you didn’t care.

You sighed softly under him, and Joel raised his head to look at you, showing him a cute smile that he wasn’t tired of, and you kissed him on the lips. 

“I love you,” you said tiredly before falling asleep.

I love you.

Those three words were echoing in the shadows of his mind. His expression hardened and he felt his blood rushing. He couldn't be sure, but the impact it had on him was undeniable.

Now in the stillness of the room, he looked down at you, nestled in his arms, 

He wanted to respond, to say those words back to him, but he hesitated. The weight of his complicated past with Lauren, the confusion of your fake relationship, and the promise you both had just broken kept him silent.

A few hours later, you woke up alone in Joel’s bed. You can't ignore the heavy feeling nestling on your chest. You made your way to the living room, and you found him sitting on the couch, his gaze lost in the soft light of the lamp.

You walked over and sat down beside him. “Couldn’t sleep?" you asked softly, your voice trembling.

And the way your voice sounded made Joel’s heart break. 

 Joel sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew he couldn't keep you in the dark any longer. "Bee, I need to be honest with you," he said, his voice low and heavy. "This... relationship we've had, it's been confusing for me. I'm not sure where my feelings stand, and I can't keep pretending."

You listened attentively, your heart pounding. The room seemed to close in on you, and the silence felt suffocating.

Joel finally met your gaze, his eyes filled with regret. "I need to figure things out, Bee. I'm sorry, but I can't continue like this. I can't say those words back to you. Not yet"

You felt tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of his crashed down on you. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as the weight of his confession crashed down on you. The vulnerability of those three words that you had uttered at the peak of the moment was now the breaking point between both of you. 

Joel continued, "We should end this, Bee, for both our sakes. This... fake relationship isn't fair to you” 

“But...but you said you cared about me” you whispered.

Trembling, Joel nodded his head as he reached for your hands, but you stood up from the couch to hide the tears streaming down your cheeks. Joel couldn’t help but feel he was already losing you.

He stood up, quickly grabbing your arms, and tears flickered in his eyes. But she refused to look at him at this moment. 

“I care about you, Bee…You have to trust me, but I-” 

“Do you love Lauren?”  you cut him. 

You could see Joel was taken aback by your question. 

“Bee, no. Look at me…I don’t love her” he said as he shook his head fast as if he was trying to stop the breaking pieces falling from you. 

“But you don’t love me either,” you said, taking a step back to keep yourself away from Joel. “All you wanted from me was to take me to your bed, Joel.” 

He tilted his head to have a glimpse of your face. When you looked up, your eyes shone with the tears dancing inside them. Joel took a step closer to you, holding your face and pressing his forehead against yours. 

“No,” he said immediately “Bee, you have been the best thing that crossed my path-” 

“Do you love me?” you asked in a breathy voice with the last strength you had left. That’s the last answer you need to prevent your falling.  

Your question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. When you demanded to know if he loved you, you were met with silence. 

The pain in your eyes was undeniable, and in that moment, you felt nothing but shame and heartache as he held your face in his hands, still keeping your foreheads together as if he was holding onto the last moments, he was going to have you this close.

Joel's heart shattered along with yours, and yet, he remained silent. 

“You made me promise not to love you, Bee,” he said, as his voice didn’t have strength left.

“This is over, Joel,” you whispered. 

Joel felt his soul leaving his body when you removed both of his hands from your face.

At that moment, your heart was glass and he dropped it.

And yet, he didn’t speak. 

He was still there in the middle of his living room, not knowing what to do and how to act. The truth was that he did love you, but he had let his own demons and insecurities build a wall between you and him, and now it was too late to turn back time.

He had built a life with tall banners around his family, to protect them and himself from the people coming into his life. He stopped believing in love and fairy tales the day he and Sarah were abandoned by Lauren, and he didn’t let another one come closer to him in years until you settled next to him with flowers and effortless smiles. 

He found himself smiling at you the very first days, until a bouquet of flowers and a card came to his office, a “gift” from you, and he thought you had second intentions, so he dropped the flowers and the card in the trash. He didn't know, but that was the very first time he broke your heart.

You, on the other hand, were crestfallen when you found the flowers and the card in the trash. You thought you could have brightened Joel’s days with the gesture, not knowing his real behavior. That time, the rejection hurt, and it made you question what was wrong with you. 

That day you stopped talking to him, only keeping a polite distance, and your smiles became more reserved once he appeared in your sight. 

And you become “enemies” after that. 

And in the middle of those memories, Joel lost track of time. The door fell shut. You were gone. 

Once you stepped out of Joel’s house, a sob escaped from your lips, and a heavy feeling settled in your heart. You couldn’t bear the feeling of humiliation consuming you. 

You didn’t have a destination in mind, the heavy steps over cobblestones were breaking the silence of the still night. You were walking in a world that felt foreign and unwelcoming, navigating through a tumultuous mix of feelings you thought you had never had to experience. 

You didn’t know what to do or who to call, you didn’t want to bother Lily because it was one in the morning and she would probably have slept, and you couldn’t face her after you promised her you would keep your heart safe from breaking. 

You thought about calling Connell, but you didn’t want to drag him into this mess. You felt so humiliated and broken on your own birthday night and everything seemed to be falling apart. 

You walked for what felt like hours, unable to find a direction. The tears you had been holding back began to flow freely down your cheeks.

And as the night deepened, you found yourself standing by a park bench, your legs finally giving in to exhaustion. You sat down, looking at the distance, lost in the memories of your time with Joel. And what started in a distant room ended up with you crying on a parking bench in the middle of the night. The pain was unbearable, and the feeling of abandonment cut deep to the bone.

You just couldn’t make up your mind about the thought of a person coming into your life, making you navigate through a lake of turbulent and magical emotions, painting your darker skies in vibrant colors just for them to walk over your own peace of mind, leaving scars they promised they would never leave on you.

Sitting on the park bench in the darkness, you felt vulnerable. The weight of the pain enveloped you. You knew you couldn't stay there forever, but you also couldn't bear to go back to your empty apartment, the place where you had shared moments with Joel.

In your fragile state, you reached for your phone and dialed Connell's number. Your heart ached, and the tears in your voice were unmistakable when he picked up.

Connell's voice was filled with concern when he said your name "What's wrong?"

The sound of his voice provided a small comfort, and you tried your best to steady your emotions. "Connell, I... I don't know where to go, and I didn't want to be alone. Something happened, and I—"

“Hey, easy. Breathe” Connell's reassuring tone came through the phone, "Just tell me where you are and I’ll be there."

You sent him the location of the park, and he promised to be there soon. While you waited, you let yourself cry softly, finding solace in the idea that someone who truly cared for you was on their way.

Connell arrived a short while later, and he wrapped his arms around you, offering comfort in his embrace. He listened as you cried on his shoulder while you tried to erase your memories and take away the pain. 

The next morning, as the sun's first rays peeked through the curtains, Tommy walked into the living room expecting to find you and Joel making breakfast together. 

Once he stepped inside, beaming, he found Joel in the same spot as last night. 

“Bee is still sleeping?” Tommy joked.

But as soon as he saw the state of Joel sitting on the couch, his eyes bloodshot, and an empty bottle of whiskey on the coffee table, he knew something was wrong.

"Joel?" Tommy asked, taking a seat beside him.

Joel finally turned to his brother; his voice heavy with remorse. "I ruined her.” 

Tommy had been through his fair share of tough times with Joel. The first time was the day Lauren walked out of his life, leaving him alone with a baby, Sarah, without any explanation, but now, he could sense the gravity of the situation. Joel was seriously broken this time. 

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

Joel didn't reply immediately, instead choosing to take a long, deep breath.

“What happened?” He urged.

Joel told him the events from last night, how you told him you loved him, how he couldn’t say those words back, and the moment he had broken your heart. As he spoke, the tears welled up in his eyes once again. It was the first time Tommy had seen Joel this torn. 

Tommy let out a deep sigh, and he placed a reassuring hand on Joel's shoulder. "Brother, please tell me you didn’t let her go home alone and break down on her birthday night.” 

Not until then did it occur to Joel that something could have happened to you. He stood fast and ran to his bedroom, to grab his cellphone and call you, but Tommy stopped him before he could do anything. 

“Easy Joel”, he said, reassuring him “She is not going to answer your calls right now.”

Tommy's words only deepened the weight of Joel's remorse. He dropped his phone back onto the coffee table and clenched his fists, feeling utterly helpless. "What have I done, Tommy? I love her” 

Tommy continued to be the voice of reason. "You need to give her space, Joel. Pushing her right now might only make things worse. Let her cool off, and then you can talk to her when she's ready. But you need to give her time to heal."

Joel knew Tommy was right, but it was excruciating to think about leaving you in pain. He shook his head "I’m going to her place," he murmured, already walking past Tommy. 

He couldn't bear the thought of you being hurt and feeling abandoned. Tommy understood his brother's pain but also recognized that this might not be the best time to confront you, especially if you were still reeling from the heartbreak.

"Joel, I get it, but you need to be cautious," Tommy advised as he followed Joel to the door. "Let her have some time to herself. She needs to process what happened, and then you can talk."

Joel turned to Tommy; his eyes filled with desperation. "I can't just leave her like this, Tommy. I need to make this right."

 "You should have seen her face” he murmured; his voice heavy with regret. 

“Listen, I can call Lily and ask about Bee, okay?” Tommy said.

Joel offered a small nod in response, his thoughts consumed by the image of your heartbroken face. As Tommy made the call to Lily, Joel's mind raced with remorse, knowing he had caused you pain.

after a brief conversation with Tommy, and turned to Joel. "She's with Connell. It seems like that's where she went last night."

Joel felt a pang in his chest, knowing that you had sought solace with Connell. He couldn't help but wonder how you had ended up there and what you might be telling Connell about what happened.

As the morning sun began to filter through Connell's windows, you found yourself sitting in his cozy living room. On the previous night, your birthday had ended badly, but Connell's presence had provided you with some sense of comfort. 

Connell, always thoughtful and caring when it came to you, had made you a cup of tea, which you held in your hands as you stared out the window. The silence between you two was comfortable as if words were unnecessary. 

After a while, Connell cleared his throat and said, " I’m not sure what happened last night but I want you to know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

You turned to him, your eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Connell”, you gave him a small smile.

Connell nodded in understanding. Then, he reached behind him and held a small gift-wrapped box out to you. “I got you a little something for your birthday. I hope it brings a smile to your face."

You accepted the gift with a warm smile, feeling grateful for Connell's existence. Unwrapping it carefully, you discovered a beautiful, handcrafted necklace inside. It was an elegant piece of jewel with a delicate design.

"It's stunning," you whispered.

 Connell chuckled softly. "You used to love unique and handmade jewelry, so I thought this might be something you'd like. I bought it in London a few years ago."

As you held the necklace in your hands, you felt a surge of emotion. Connell's kind gesture and the beauty of the necklace warmed your heart and provided a much-needed distraction from the turmoil of the previous night. You thanked him sincerely, realizing that you were fortunate to have him who genuinely cared about you. 

Memories of your past relationship with Connell rushed back to you. There was a time when you and Connell had been a strong team, and those feelings and connection you had shared, and it had been an important part of your life. But that had changed, and you had moved on.

As you sat there with Connell, the temptation to lean in and kiss him was strong, but it was Joel's face and his presence that you couldn't forget. You knew that, deep down, your heart belonged to him.

With a heavy heart, you offered a grateful smile to Connell and thanked him once again for his kind gesture.

"Connell, thanks for your gift” you said, offering a sincere smile. "But I also wanted to talk to you about something important."

Connell nodded; his blue eyes focused on you. "Of course, What's on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "This job in London…

Connell leaned back in his chair, looking at you attentively.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before asking, "Connell, have you made a decision about that job?"

Connell sighed and leaned in closer, his voice low and sincere. "I have decided to go and I know I asked you to come with me, but you and Joel- “

“I’ll go with you” you said.

Connell's eyes widened with surprise, “Are you sure about this? It's a big step, and I don't want you to feel rushed or pressured into it just because you’re hurt.” 

You met Connell's gaze. "Connell, this isn't just about being hurt; but about an opportunity to start a fresh life. I want to be with you in London."

Connell's surprise gave way to a warm, grateful smile. He squeezed your hand gently and leaned in closer. " I can't express how happy that makes me. We're going to have a wonderful time in London, I promise."

Connell pulled you into a warm embrace, your heart should have been soaring with joy, but a shadow of doubt crept in. At that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and your future looking bright, you couldn't help but think about Joel.

Joel, who had broken your heart. Joel, with whom you had shared an intimate connection that you could never forget. Despite your determination to start fresh, the memories of your time with Joel, the emotions you had felt, and the connection you shared with him echoed in your mind.

Connell pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to have any doubts."

You forced a smile, feeling a sense of guilt for letting your thoughts wander. "I'm sure, Connell. Let's make this move and embrace our future together."

A week later, after the painful night with you, Joel was in the gallery, his heart heavy with regret as he finished the final details of his upcoming exhibition. The art pieces were carefully arranged, the lighting adjusted, and he scrutinized every corner, but it was a task that felt empty without you by his side.

He knew, deep down, that you wouldn't be there for the exhibition. The absence of your presence was like a void in the room, and the pain of knowing he had pushed you away was a constant ache in his chest.

No flowers from you this time, not the sound of your laugh echoing through the halls and he felt he was dying inside. 

In the midst of his preparations, Lauren was in the gallery with him. He told her you and him had broken up and it seemed like she was trying to comfort him somehow as she took advantage of Sarah as “something” they had in common. Her presence was a reminder of the choices he had made, and it infuriated him. Joel couldn't help but glance out of the gallery window toward your flower shop. It was a habit, one that he couldn't seem to break, even though he knew it was over between you two.

It wasn’t real, he thought, but for him and you it became the most adventurous story of love. 

"Why is she gifting flowers today?" Joel asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice as he saw a group of people gathered outside your shop.

Lauren turned her gaze to the window, following his line of sight. She sighed softly and said, "You don't know?"

Joel shook his head. "What should I know?"

"I think she's selling the place," Lauren explained. Her tone was gentle, and she appeared concerned about the situation.

Joel's brow furrowed as he processed the information. Your flower shop, a place that had meant so much to you, was being sold. The weight of the recent events pressed down on him even more. It was yet another consequence of his actions, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was yet another step in the direction of erasing him from your life.

"Can you excuse me for a second?" he told Lauren, deciding he was going to confront you.

As he left the gallery, Joel's steps were determined, and his thoughts were a mess of remorse, regret, and a glimmer of hope. He knew he had to speak with you, to clear the air, even though he wasn't sure where your conversation might lead.

Joel's heart raced as he approached your flower shop. The sight of it, now decorated with flowers, brought back memories of the moments he had spent there with you. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, his eyes scanning the interior for a sign of your presence.

"Is it true?" Joel's voice, which had been silent for a week, sent shivers down your spine, memories of his touch still fresh on your skin.

"What's true?" you asked without looking at him.

"That you're selling your shop?"

You nodded, unable to meet his searching gaze.

"Is it because of me?"

"Joel, please," you pleaded, your voice edged with a mix of frustration and pain. "Just let it go."

"Please, just answer me," he implored.

"No," you replied, the weight of your decision heavy in the air. "It's not because of you. I just need a fresh start."

He countered, his voice filled with doubt, "And you think moving to another part of town will give you that?"

"I'm not moving to another part of town," you said, your voice unsteady.

"What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, and your gaze met his, knowing this would be the final blow. "I'm leaving."

Joel's heart sank, a heaviness that seemed insurmountable. He didn't want to hear the rest, but you continued.

"I'm leaving to London with Connell."

"No—"

"No, Joel, you can't," you replied firmly “You can't come here and tell me what I should do. You have no right."

His frustration was rising, "You're escaping. Can you be more childish?"

 Joel's world crumbled around him. The woman he was in love with, the one who had brought color and life back into his existence, was leaving. And worse, she was leaving for London with her ex-boyfriend. 

You chuckled bitterly, the pain in your heart mingling with your exasperation. "Goodbye, Joel." You said, signaling the door. 

"Bee! Listen to me!" He shouted.

But you were done listening. The years of mixed emotions, the moments of joy and confusion, had finally boiled over. You had made your decision, and you couldn't bear to keep going in circles with him.

"You were my biggest disappointment, Joel."

With those words, you turned away from him and walked behind the counter door, leaving Joel standing there, with a heavy heart.

At that moment, Joel realized the depth of his mistakes and the price he had paid for being an idiot. He felt a burning need to make things right, but it was already too late. Your departure for London with Connell was the beginning of a chapter in your life that he could no longer be a part of. 

With a heavy heart, Joel turned away from the flower shop and walked back to the gallery, his steps heavy with the weight of what he had lost.

And you were left there crying while losing the grip of the hand of the man you felt you would be getting over your whole life. 

a/n: Okay, sorry again. But what's going to happen next? 👀

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [14]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: self doubt, anxiety over appearance, past medical trauma, sexual tension, like so much sexual tension, some heavy petting, slow burn (i use it as a warning here b/c it’s gonna feel like an attack by time you’re through with this chapter lol)

Word Count: 4,682

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #14: AM I MAKING YOU QUIVER?

Chapter Summary: Exploration and Anticipation

“i must have loved you in other lives because when i see you it feels like coming home. no one makes me feel more myself than you. when my hand is in yours it’s familiar and safe, like i’ve known your soul since the beginning of time, through all the lives i’ve lived. maybe that’s why my love for you is infinite.” --m.m.

This was the first time you woke up beside Din. Up until now, every moment that involved him taking you to bed or falling asleep on him ended with you waking up alone. Alone or with Grogu. Din always seemed to be up before you. There was absolutely nothing comfortable about the cot you were laying on. At baseline it was hard and covered with crinkling, thin sterile paper. It was also only large enough for one person. Which, granted, with Grogu alone on it the cot had looked massive, but now it held Din, Grogu, and you. You were startled that you hadn’t woken up on the floor.

You had Din to thank for that. He laid on his back, armor and helmet present, with Grogu sleeping soundly on his chest. You laid half on his side, curled around him, but he had one arm under you and resting on your waist clinging to you tightly. Saving you from sleeping on the hard, tile floor wasn’t the only thing you had to thank him for.

Last night had been… difficult. Nothing short of the Maker himself was going to stop you from doing everything in your power to heal Grogu, and even then the Maker might not be able to hold you back, but the cost had been steep. The moment your body registered that Grogu was safe, vitals steady and father in the room, you had crumpled in on yourself like a dying star. Every single demon that called your mind home crawled out of the wood works to plague you.

Surely, you thought, they’d devour you whole and leave you an empty shell. Yet, here you were. Still alive, still functioning, and⏤ dank farrik⏤ you were content. Content, borderline happy. An emotion you thought would be impossible after the events of last night. You felt safe. Lying here, watching Din and Grogu sleep peacefully, Din’s arm clinging to you, you felt like there wasn’t a force in this galaxy that could touch you. Over the last year, a lot of people promised that you’d be protected. Many swore that nothing would hurt you. 

Din was the only one you believed.

Despite wanting to stay in this moment forever, you knew you needed to rise. There were things you needed to collect and, though you had revealed a lot of who you were last night, it’d be nice to not have an audience. Carefully, you untangled yourself from Din’s arm. He stirred for a moment, but you whispered a reassurance. It was a testament to how exhausted the Mandalorian was as he laid his head back and dozed off once more.

As you stood, that’s when the aches began to settle from the night you had. The cot, and technically Din’s armored body, had not been forgiving to your skin, bones, or joints. You stretched as you walked over to the medical shelves. You wanted to make another two doses of the antipyretic, just to have on hand, and an additional dose of antibiotics for Grogu to take. It was overkill, technically, but you didn’t care. It was also mildly illegal for you to take some of these supplies home, but who was going to stop you? Daelar? That coward was off world so he had no say over this clinic, and you had a pretty solid relationship with the Marshal. Enough so that you doubted he’d be arresting you for this.

Quietly, you worked with practiced ease compounding the medications. Without the added stress of a ticking time bomb in feverish child form, you were able to find the action calming. That is until a figure settled next you. Her presence startled you at first, but you recognized the girl you held at gunpoint only hours ago.

“Oh, Aayla, hey.” You greeted in a whisper, to not disturb Din, “I’m sorry about last night. With the blaster and the⏤”

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” Aayla replied. “You were incredible. This is incredible.” She motioned to the medicine you were half done compounding. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“Wait, what?”

“I came here to gain experience before I apply to medical school, and I was so disappointed with what I found.” She said. The girl was practically bouncing in place. “But now I have you! Oh, I am so excited to work with you!”

Your fingers froze and you slowly shook your head. “No. No, no, no, no. I’m not⏤ We’re not⏤”

Aayla tilted her head in confusion. “You’re gonna be the new on site physician, aren't you?”

Maker, in your panic last night had you just told everyone you were a doctor before? You shook your head. You needed to get this done. The sound of Din stirring made you glance over your shoulder toward him. You hummed, “Aayla, can you take out Grogu’s IV? Have you done that before?”

“I have!” She rushed away and you took that as a victory.

Din sat up on the cot at her approach, Grogu still cradled in his arms, and you sighed in relief once more. Grogu still hadn’t woken up, but that didn’t surprise you. You had made both medications last night with a sedative effect. The poor kid needed as much rest as possible. All thoughts were interrupted when Din’s t-shaped visor lifted from Grogu to focus on you. You physically felt his eyes on you and a thrill ran down your spine all the way to your toes. You quickly turned back around and went back to work. You were nearly done with the last one. Would’ve been finished by now if Aayla hadn’t caught you off guard.

As if the universe knew you were trying to stay focused on task and wanted to distract you, an all too familiar form silently approached. Din towered over you, quite the sight in all his beskar, and though his presence hadn’t surprised you the way he curled around you did. Din rested one hand on the counter, his other wrapped around your waist, and he leaned into you so the side of his helmet was pressed against the side of your face. The man might as well have set you on fire with the flamethrower connected to his vambrace. Heat warmed your cheeks and flooded into every nook and cranny of your body.

This was hardly the first time he had broken the barrier to touch you, but this was the first time it wasn’t spurred on by some emotional turmoil. You hadn’t expected him to be so casual. To openly touch you in this way. 

“Hi.” You mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

A low, rumbling chuckle spilled out from the helmet’s modulator and the sound made your breath catch in your throat. Din squeezed your waist. “Hi.” He nodded his head down toward your hands. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh, I’m…” Habit told you to lie. You were supposed to keep this a secret. Nobody was supposed to know about your past. Your logic argued that it was a little late for that and telling Din you were ‘making mixed drinks with the medical supplies’ wasn’t going to convince him of anything. “Medicine.” You blurted. Mentally, you cursed your lack of allure and tact. Maker, why did Din make you babble like an idiot? For once, could you just be cool? Give off an air of mystery and intrigue like he was able to? Kriff. “Uh, medicine for Grogu. Just in case.”

“Good.” He replied. “Smart.”

“What can I say? I have my moments sometimes.”

Din hummed out a sound of amusement, but before you could commend yourself for saying something marginally clever and well thought out, you felt his gloved fingers brush just under the hem of your shirt. The leather warm and firm on the bare skin of your abdomen, and your entire brain short circuited at the motion. 

“You almost ready to go home, ner kar’ta?” He whispered.

Voice broken, you nodded dumbly. Din chuckled once more before pulling back and walking back to the cot. Maker. Oh, Maker. You glanced over your shoulder to watch him saunter away. He didn’t do it on purpose, he didn’t seem to know what his gait did to the people around him, but you could watch Din walk for hours. It was such a casual and strong pace⏤ confidence oozing from every step.

For weeks now, you had been fighting an emotional connection to this man. You were terrified of messing up the good thing you had. It couldn’t be argued that the ship of staying distant had sailed. The wall between the two of you, emotionally speaking, was a pile of dust now. The physical thoughts? Those had always been easy to swat away. You forced yourself to not let your mind wander on his hip to shoulder ratio. To not think about the sliver of flesh you’d see at home between the waistband of his sweatpants and the hem of his shirt. To not think about his strong arms and the way they would feel wrapped around you.

You had been so good about it. Up until now, that is.

Now? Dank farrik, you wanted to jump his bones. 

Maybe it was the excess adrenaline from everything that happened last night, or maybe it was you being too weak to hold back those primal thoughts, but regardless of the reason the desire was there in full force. Your eyes traced him from boots to helmet once more. He was standing by the cot watching Aayla work with his hands on his hips and his head faced down in a studious manner. Oof. A man covered head to toe in metal and the woven material of a flight suit should not look this good. The man didn’t have a single patch of skin showing, yet you were foaming at the mouth feral for him.

As if reading your wanton thoughts, Din’s gaze snapped to you. Your eyes widened. Though you couldn’t see where his eyes were trained, you still flushed as if he were raking over your form, and when his head tilted to the side it felt like your heart seized in your chest. Double oof. You whipped your head back around, swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, and tried to get back to the task at hand. Focus, focus, focus.

Medicine for Grogu first, eye fucking his father second.

They had slept in the clinic far longer than Din had thought. The quick trip back home was made in early morning light and the city was beginning to come to life. Normally, this would frustrate him, but Cara had left him a note saying that Karga was excusing them of all duties today⏤ as a thanks. Any issues would run through him. In any other scenario, Din would argue over this plan, but today? No, today he was going to send Karga a damned fruit basket as thanks when he got the chance.

There was a very long list of tasks Din had to accomplish. He needed to hunt down Daelar so he could rip the man’s cowardly spine from his body and beat him to death with it for leaving his son and you without medicine. He needed to repair his vambrace so the communicator would work once more. He needed to ensure Grogu was healing properly⏤ though you were handling that better than he ever could it seemed. And a few other dozen items he always had on his to-do list. One of the more important things on his list of goals for the day? You. 

Din knew he had a bad habit of tunnel vision. He knew because people told him this constantly. He tended to make a goal and then barrel through any obstacle or issue with blinders on until he got what he wanted. It was part of the reason why he was so good at bounty hunting, though it was also the reason why he found himself in so many messes over the years. Today, it would come in handy because you were at the end of this tunnel.

“How much longer will he be asleep?” Din asked. Grogu was bundled up in his arms as the two of you entered into the house. 

You set the bag of supplies you had taken from the clinic onto the kitchen counter then shrugged. “If I had to guess…a couple more hours?”

“Good.” Din replied. Without another word, he began the journey to his room. First things first, he needed to get his son settled. The last time Din had seen Grogu sleep so soundly was when they first met and he saved him from the mudhorn.

Carefully, he tucked the boy into his hammock and shuffled through the toys below to find Grogu’s favorite stuffed frog. Din set it in the hammock as well and took a minute to breath out a sigh of relief. Maker, he was thankful Grogu was safe and healing. He was thankful for you, and he wanted to show that to you in any and every way you’d allow him.

Din stepped back and began to peel off layers of his beskar. The gloves and his gauntlets fell away first followed by his shoulder pieces and his torso. He had even shrugged out of the tight upper half of his flight suit leaving him in the plain t-shirt that sat beneath. His hands drifted to undo his belt, but he heard you pass by his room on the way to the bathroom. Din paused in his process and walked out of his room⏤ almost like a man possessed. As he shut the door behind him quietly, as to not rouse Grogu, he heard the sound of the shower kick on. His body was moving before he fully registered the motion, and his knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

“Yeah?” Your muffled voice called out.

“Can I come in?” It was a weighted question, he knew, and judging on the silence that followed it you were aware of this as well. Your eventual reply was a soft affirmative noise, and Din found himself pushing the door open slowly. He’d keep all his movements slow. Din would give you every opportunity to push him away. The relationship between the two of you was a series of lines drawn in the sand, and Din knew he was blowing past every single one right now.

You stood at the bathroom counter, back to the mirror, and the shower off to the side was already running. His helmet’s sensor told him the water beating down was ice cold. 

“I was thinking a, uh, shower,” You cleared your throat, eyes not leaving him, “might be the best thing for me right now.”

Din gave a small nod. Then took another step in your direction, “I can help with that.” Din said every word slowly, took every step slowly, in order to give you every opportunity to stop him. “If you’d like.”

The corner of your lips twitched up, a sight that made him ache, and you shrugged. “The buttons on this shirt were really tricky.”

It was the only invitation he needed to close the remaining space between the two of you. Din cupped your face with his bare hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and he tilted your head up just so he could look at you. Maker, you were gorgeous. The light in your eyes, the way you glowed when you smiled, it put the stars to shame. 

“You’re a work of art, ner kar’ta.” He breathed.

“What does that one mean?” You asked softly. “Ner kar’ta.”

Din tilted his head with a chuckle, “If I told you, I’d have to come up with a new nickname to call you.” 

His fingers trailed down your neck and found the buttons that started at your collar. Din continued to move slowly as he undid each button of your shirt, but this time it was for his own sake rather than yours. He wanted to savor every second of touch he had with you. He soaked in the soft gasps you made every time his cold fingers brushed against your warm torso. 

“I like this look on you, by the way.” You whispered. Din hummed in response⏤ too busy admiring your bare skin to be decent at holding a real conversation. You leaned forward enough that he could pull the shirt down off your body leaving you in only a bra. “The t-shirt. With the beskar plated pants and boots⏤ plus that helmet. You’d have bounties quivering.”

Din ran his hands across your belly, over your sides, then up your back. So close now that his chest was pressed against yours. He kept his voice low and quiet. “Am I making you quiver?” The sharp breath you sucked in was a sound he’d have memorized for the rest of his life. Din let his hands explore your upper body determined to memorize that as well. 

Eventually his hands made it back to your chest and he let his fingers brush against the scar on your collarbone. Briefly he felt you stiffen. “Mesh’la.” Din reassured, then followed it up in a language you’d understand. “Beautiful. You are so kriffing beautiful, ner kar’ta.”

Din traced his hands downward, pausing over your breasts, then continued to drag his palms over your abdomen⏤ his thumb dipped against your navel. When his hands reached the waistband of your pants, he undid the button and zipper then knelt down in front of you. Din helped you step out of the first pants’ leg and he held his hand behind your knee allowing his thumb to tenderly caress circles against your calf. Din stared up at you the entire time. The pupils of your eyes were blown wide with desire and your tempting lips were parted. It was a look that Din wouldn’t mind staring up at forever. He’d spend the rest of his life on his knees for you if it meant you’d continue to look at him in this way.

“Pretty girl.” Din hummed as he worked to get your other leg untangled from the rest of your pants. He focused his gaze back to eye level and took in a shaky breath. Your dark underwear was a shade darker at the center, a damp spot he could just barely see, but it was enough to tell him you were in the same state of being nearly undone by the other. It was a match to the near painful hard on he had pressed against the thickness of his flight suit’s pants. 

It was absolute torture to be so close to what he wanted, but still be separated by so much. Din had never been so tempted to rip the helmet off his head just so he could press open mouthed kisses up your thigh to your damp center. He was an Apostate anyways according to the covert. That title just might be worth it for a taste of you.

“Din.” You breathed his name and he shuddered in response.

Maker, he wanted you to know how much you meant to him. Din wished he could string together paragraph after paragraph about how you made him feel. But, he was bad at talking. Din didn’t have the skills to voice how strong his thoughts were. Action though? Oh, Din was very good at action. And, he planned to reveal how strongly he felt for you with every touch he was allowed. You said Grogu would be asleep for another few hours. Din didn’t think that was near enough time, but it would be a good start to how he planned to worship your body.  

He may not be able to use his mouth, but years of being bound by this barrier made him very, very good with his hands. Din hooked his fingers under the bands of your panties with full intention to rip them off of you, but your hands suddenly landed on his.

Worried, his head snapped up to gauge if you were alright. “Cyar’ika⏤”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay, I’m⏤” You took a slow, shuddering breath. “But if you get started, I’m going to absolutely fall apart, Din.”

“That’s exactly what I want, pretty girl.” Din chuckled. As the other nickname left his lips, Din wished he knew your real name. Calling you Soran, knowing the little he did, felt wrong. Another chuckle escaped him. It wasn’t often he was on the curious end of this conundrum. 

You ran your hands over his forearms, to his elbows, and you tried to pull him up to stand. Din, reluctantly, stood back up so he was towering over you once more. The bright smile that filled your features was enough to make it worth it. You reached out and set your hands on his shoulders. “It’s my turn to explore.” Din tilted his head, in genuine confusion, and you dragged your hands down to his abdomen. The tips of your fingers brushed against his bare skin and his entire body stiffened in response. “You’re wearing too much clothes.”

Din hesitated, only for a moment, before he reached back to grasp the collar of his shirt and pulled it up over his head. A nervous energy settled in his chest as he let the shirt fall to the bathroom floor. Din watched you as your small fingers ran across his abdomen, chest, and arms. Every scar you came across, you spent the time tracing it softly as he had yours. 

“Mesh’la.” You said though the pronunciation was just slightly off. He chuckled and your smile widened. Your hands trailed to his back and he felt you lightly dragging your nails against his skin. Goosebumps formed on his skin. “I’m serious though, Din. I could spend all day staring at you⏤ touching you.”

Din couldn’t help but shake his head. “You don’t have to lie. I think I have more scars than normal skin, at this point.”

“I’m not lying.” You replied. He didn’t think he could be more surprised by your actions, but you leaned in and pressed your lips against a rather gnarly patch of scarred skin on the left side of his chest where a vibroblade had cut through the armor he had before his beskar. Honest to Maker, an actual whimper slipped from him as his eyes fluttered closed. You continued on. Taking the time to press your lips against every scar you could find while mumbling about how beautiful he was between each one.

Din had never been so intimate with a person before. He was no stranger to sex, to carnal desires, but up until now every encounter had been a means to an end. Quick and to the point. Nearly every time, he’d still have on every piece of his armor. The partners he found would be in various stages of undress, but Din never felt comfortable enough to match them in that state. Everything about this moment was starkly different. He felt safe and he treasured every single tender second that passed. He craved it. Din craved you. Another difference. Before now, his sex life had been a series of hit and runs. Never the same person twice. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious choice, but Din was always traveling and nothing tempted him enough to return and repeat. 

You were not those other partners. Maker, he’d never get enough of you. Din knew that without a doubt and he technically hadn’t even fully touched you yet. That was the stranglehold you had on his mind, body, and soul.

When you pulled back, Din reopened his eyes to stare down at you. He cupped your face once more and for what had to be the thousandth time he wished he didn’t have a wall of beskar separating the two of you. Your hands lifted to hold over his then trailed down to his elbows. Without looking away from him, Din felt your hands on his abdomen. Tracing lower, lower, lower. You undid his belt then buried your hands into his pants to pull them down further. He could feel your hands against his thighs, and it was absolutely pathetic how close he came to falling apart just by having you near his cock.

The sudden loud banging of someone beating their fist against the front door of the house drifted down the hall into the bathroom, and it was just as jarring as if Din had stepped into the cold shower himself. Both of you froze, his hands cupping your face and your hands still buried in his pants. A beat of silence made Din hopeful, but it was followed by a now repeated banging that did not stop.

Din let out a groan and let his head fall forward to lightly rest against your forehead. His frustrated words came out in a near snarl. “I’m going to kill whoever is at the door.”

The sound of your quiet laugh loosened the tension in his shoulders but did nothing to the new level of frustration he had. You pulled your hands out of his pants, a loss that devastated Din, and placed them over his again.

“Well, you know what they say about anticipation.” You said.

“No.” Din shook his head. “I don’t. What do they say?”

Your smile turned sheepish as you shrugged. “I, uh, I don’t actually know.” Din’s lips curled into a smile of his own. “I didn’t think you’d call me on that. To be honest, words just sort of fall out of my mouth when I’m with you.” Din chuckled, and you squeezed his hands. “I don’t think my brain works right when my skin is touching yours.”

Din knew lust. He could recognize the hot, burning solar flare it tended to be. It was blinding. Like, a comet rushing by him leaving him spinning in the heated sparks of its tail end. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel that way with you⏤ Maker, knew that wasn’t the case⏤ but with you there was something else. It came on so slow that he didn’t even realize he felt the comforting warmth until it was nestled deep in his chest. The feeling planted roots in his soul and blossomed into something he couldn't live without. It was invigorating. It was life. It was standing in the sun on a warm day and soaking in every ray of warmth. 

“I need to answer the door.” You mumbled. “Before the knocking wakes up Grogu.”

Din nodded with another sigh. You turned your head, pressing your lips to the palm of his hand, then stepped away from him. You leaned over to turn the shower off⏤ the shower neither of you ever made it to⏤ and he bent over to scoop up his shirt. Din held it out to you. A deliberate decision. You raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t hesitate to pull his too large shirt over your head. Din nodded at the sight of you, appeased at seeing you in his clothes.

“I’ll be right there.” Din said as you hurried away. 

When he knew you were a safe distance away, he pulled his helmet off and rubbed his face with his hands. Anticipation. Din had been on the edge of anticipation for much too long. He was sliding straight into sexually frustrated now. At this rate, when he finally did get a taste of you it might just kill him. 

“Mando!” Your voice called out. He had already gotten used to hearing you use his name after one day. Enough so that the moniker disappointed him. Still, Din felt a flash of pride that his trust had been rewarded. He didn’t even need to tell you not to use his real name in front of others. You just knew. “It’s Karga!”

“I’ll be right there.” He called back and grabbed his helmet. Din would have to step back into his room to dress back into his gear before meeting the High Magistrate. One thing was for certain, he would not be sending Karga a kriffing fruit basket anymore.

mando’a translations

Mesh’la: Beautiful /// Cyar’ika: Sweetheart /// Ner Kar’ta: My Heart

taglist

@aheadfullofsteverogers @yyiikes @kneelforloki @c-ms1ut @sgt-morgan @luthienaliceisilra @fawn-kitten @missbabyjay @coldlamaspersonspy​ @dilfsaremyfavourite @jamesbuckybarnes @yorkeylover​ @teawrites01​ @emily-roberts​ @djarinxore​ @impala1967666​ @shelbyteller @faithrenner​

[fermiomoriblog]

The pitfalls of every Sunny ship

Diving straight into the hot coals with the first post. But it has been on my mind lately.

The setup in Omori is naturally quite mentally (and in some cases physically) taxing on every main cast character, and a shipper can very easily be overenthusiastic about getting a "happy ending" for their preferred pair, glossing over inconvenient problems and dynamics. I think that it really is rather contrary to the game's themes that this occurs, but it is also understandable that not everybody does a full psychoanalysis of every plot point in their story. I'll list some "common" problems I've personally encountered with people making content about sunburn, suntan and sunflower. I'm more familiar with the dynamics common on ao3 than elsewhere, so if you have any other observations or things to add, please feel free to do so.

# OMORI SPOILERS BELOW #

Sunburn

The "canon" ship. The fact that the ship is explicitly mentioned in game means that the ship is viewed as the "default", and it can lead to some lazy dynamics or lack of justification. You have to remember that no matter what headspace says (and headspace says a lot of things that aren't true), the first thing Sunny and Aubrey did after four years is beat the shit out of each other. Sunny knows nothing about the Hooligans, even though we do, and Aubrey thinks Sunny abandoned her (which is a feeling unlikely to abate after the truth). There needs to be basis for the ship as well - they aren't going to just pick up where they left off (presuming they had anything to leave off in the first place) right away. Which leads us to the first common problem:

Basing the relationship entirely on the past

This is the default reaction and requires the least writing creativity, so it is not surprising that it is common. Simply porting the HS dynamic or the swing scene to the future and copy-pasting is fun and cute and all, but it ignores the fact that both Sunny and Aubrey have changed massively. There's a lot of guilt that is going around, both with Sunny for obvious reasons and Aubrey for pushing Basil in the lake, and Aubrey has a bunch of new, closer friends whom depending on your interpretation are either theatre kids or delinquents. This is not really just going to get talked away on the swing set - they involve third parties.

I would venture to argue that this is actually a very problematic pitfall, despite it being generally not a very serious transgression in real life. Omori, as a game, is about moving on from the past. If you write a fic where the characters forget about bad things in the past but hang on like hell to the good things... that's Headspace. You've just put Sunny in a new Headspace.

Getting Basil out of the way

Even among sunburn/suntan shippers, it is pretty generally accepted that Basil was somewhat attached to Sunny even before the accident. So if you don't want to do sunflower, how do you deal with that?

You can write angst, where Aubrey and Basil end up fighting over Sunny. Weirdly, I've never seen this actually happen (probably because it's too heartbreaking). You can have Basil go to therapy, and get rid of an unhealthy attachment. You can also go the seriously angsty route of Basil hating Sunny for abandonment, Sunny hating Basil for his role in the incident, or a less intense version which just puts a barrier between the two. You can also have Sunny reject Basil. Or you can argue that the attachment was platonic, which is entirely fair.

What you cannot do is have Basil be romantically interested in Sunny, but "get out of the way" for Aubrey "so that Sunny can be happy". Or, well, you can do that, but you can't frame it as anything but serious angst from Basil's POV.

Unfortunately, many, many "pure fluff" Sunburn fics do this, because "pure fluff" fics don't want to untangle the whole thing as most methods involve some degree of emotional turnmoil. This is no ordinary infautation - Basil has waited for Sunny for four years. Nursing unrequited love like that is really, really painful. It is certainly not something that someone with Basil's character and history can do with a smile on their face. If you need any further convincing, I point you to Note to Self: Don't Be Gay in Faraway Town by witheredahlia.

A version of this which I think is a lesser sin (because it is at least framed with some nuance), but a sin regardless, is Aubrey getting annoyed at Basil for "stealing" Sunny's attention from her. This gets dangerously close to the reddit comments you see about "the friend group will be better off if Basil never joined".

Suntan

Despite sunburn being the "canon" and sunflower being the natural alternative, I actually think that this is the default. After all, Kel was the one to bring Sunny out, generally saving his life, and is his first friend, etc. Kel is also a clean slate character, with nothing anyone can particularly hold against them, and as a result suntan is the "healthiest", "least questionable" ship. This commits the customary mistake of believing Kel's parents when they say "eh, it's Kel, he'll be fine".

"Kel's fine"

No, he's not. He's spent the better part of four years trying to forget the happiest times of his childhood, and has been going around doing nothing but fixing and saving other people, putting others' needs far above his own, for the entirety of pre-canon and foreseeably for a good part of post canon as well. Suntan, especially with Sunny still in a vulnerable state post-canon, can very easily be written into Kel being Sunny's unpaid, untrained therapist, and his mood/health being Kel's only/majority source of validation. Kel's self-worth independent of his friends needs addressing and development, and without a lot of development, Sunny alone is not really equipped to provide that.

In all fairness, while I would be somewhat confident in saying that the majority of canon-compliant sunburn fics run into the problems above, suntan fics do usually handle it better. That might just be because there aren't that many suntan fics though.

Sunflower

It goes without saying that sunflower has the highest potential to be unhealthy. But precisely because of that fact, people writing sunflower are usually very careful to address it. Either the fic is written as a work exploring codependency/attachment/trauma/other general unhealthiness (which you can make your own judgement on whether it's a legitimate art form or problematic), or there is at minimum an attempt at pacing, therapy and general juggling of the various mental issues the game leaves Sunny and Basil with (for a shining example, see These Days Without You by Smitty1899, my go to answer for when anyone says "but sunflower toxic!!1!").

The issues that can make sunflower unhealthy and problematic are generally pretty obvious - shared crime, codependency and attachment, commitment and abandonment issues, and the whole "getting together before their friends forgive them" thing (which can still be done well, but from the POV of especially Hero can be kind of eh, and unlikely to be conducive to a healthy relationship given that it kind of depends on their friends' pending "approval".) As a result, there aren't a lot of works that don't address them in one manner or another. However, I do think there is one major pitfall that some fics fall into in the other direction:

Having everything in the relationship be dependent on someone else's approval.

In an attempt to make sunflower as healthy as possible, some authors make it so that Sunny and Basil effectively never make decisions on their own. There's always a third party present to psychoanalyse them, tell them what's fine and what's not, etc. and every step they make in their relationship is with the express blessing, support and help of the rest of their friends. The problem is, that's not healthy either.

I feel that the value of sunflower is greatest in the context of the themes of the game of moving on and forgiveness. Making it so that Sunny and Basil hang on to their guilt forever and robbing them of any "right" to decide for themselves what makes them happy is very much contrary to that - they're on crutches for the rest of their lives, and the point of the good ending is the hope that they won't need to be. It also is just not a good thing for any third party to intervene so extensively in a relationship.

Conclusion

Omori is emotionally deep, with many, many themes to explore. Ships in Omori have unique meanings and themes, which in a canon compliant context is quite hard to simply wipe away. Rushing into a ship with insufficient pacing and development, which works in "cute" fandoms, generally leaves lots of outstanding holes in Omori.

This post doesn't necessarily mean that I think less of any particular ship mentioned - to reiterate, every ship has unique meanings and themes which is interesting to explore and form a part of the message of the game. It is however true that some pitfalls in some ships are easier to fall in, and overlooked, than others, and the obvious problems get a lot more bashing than the non-obvious ones. (Yes, sunflower bias. Sue me.)

And of course, in a plotless or AU context, cute art is cute art.

[michaelmilligan]

Do y'all even know how much I rotate post-canon Midam in my mind? Like, every day my brain is speed-running a fix-it where Michael is brought back.

And it can go so many ways.

Michael getting brought back, immediately rushing to Adam, and Adam accepting him back with only love and relief in his heart? Absolutely believable.

Michael being brought back, dragging his feet about going to Adam even though he desperately wants to see him, but also he pretty much betrayed his brothers and sided with God, and when he does finally go see him, Adam hits him with the whole 'How could you, I thought we were friends!' and takes a really long time to be convinced that Michael still likes him and wants to be with him? ALSO absolutely believable.

There's so much in between that, and there are of course several factors influencing which would be more likely - like how much time passes until Michael is brought back, whether Adam has been spending time Sam and Dean or not, and how much they told him, if anything. But at the end of the day, there is I think one big question that decides where it comes out to. And we simply don't see enough of those two on screen to be able to answer that question with any clarity.

The question is, how much of their feelings have these two shared?

And I don't necessarily mean this in a romantic way. I'm all for big dramatic 'I love you's and all that, but this would work just as well with a queer-platonic, or purely platonic, relationship between the two. In fact, I think even if they had exchanged 'I love you's before rapture, that still wouldn't answer this question.

The thing is, how much do they know about the depth of each other's feelings? Do they both know just how much the other wants to be with them? Does Adam know that Michael would burn the world if he asked? Does Michael know that Adam doesn't need him to kill for him, he needs him to LIVE for him? Does Adam know that the reason Michael didn't go back to Heaven is at least 90% him? Does Michael know that Adam isn't just keeping him around because it's convenient, but because he genuinely enjoys hanging out with him?

There is a lot of interpretation here on my part, but yeah, I think whatever configuration you put these two in (romantic/queer-platonic/whatever else), these two are just absolutely unhinged about each other. As in they cannot imagine a life without each other anymore. Adam just spent at least a thousand years with Michael alone. That's the equivalent of several human lifetimes! And for Michael, it's of course considerably less, but do you really think he has been this close with, this focused on anyone since Lucifer fell? Since his family broke apart, and he became a general above anything else? Do you think he isn't absolutely thrilled to have Adam, a guy who doesn't always agree with him but likes him anyway, a guy he is literally chilling in the same body with, as close as two people can conceivably be? You think he's not insane about that guy?

Anyway, this got off track, but I truly do believe that how the fix-it goes depends on whether they know this about each other. How secure they are about each other's feelings. Because I think if Adam knows how Michael feels about him, he's more likely to think along the lines of 'Michael was manipulated by his abusive dad and went back to him, man I wish I could have been there and helped him untangle his emotions, he must have been at rock bottom :(' and less likely something like 'Michael went back to his dad as soon as I was gone, guess he never cared about me at all'.

And I guess in the end it does come down to Adam, because while I can see Michael being insecure and not knowing if Adam will take him back, he would also jump immediately if Adam called for him in a prayer or anything like that. Meanwhile, if Adam is angry, I think Michael would withdraw pretty quickly, which Adam would take as confirmation that Michael never really cared much...

So, yeah. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it can go many ways, and to me it depends heavily on whether they (especially Adam, but also Michael) know how much the other cares for them.

[stayandot8]

Thaw

Genre: comfort-fluff? Was angsty then...not?

Relationship type: exes

Important Contents: Soooo Defrost Part 2. Enjoy.

WC: 2.3k

Part 1 l masterlist

“Hi, Chris.” 

I didn’t fight my smile this time. Hearing his voice was the oxygen I needed to continue breathing. Like resurfacing when you’ve been underwater for too long. 

There was a pause on the other end. I brought my phone back to make sure the line hadn’t been disconnected, but it wasn’t. His contact name was still there, the little timer counting up. I brought the phone back to my ear. “Chris?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, almost whispering. “I’ve never been so relieved to hear my own name.” I closed my eyes, letting his voice wash over me. I was rejoicing in hearing no anger in his tone, wave after wave of relief crashing over me. Shaky breaths were all I had left in me.

“Honestly, I’ve never been so happy to say it. Even when we first started dating, I took for granted how much I loved saying it. I guess you never realize how much you love something until it’s…”

“Gone.” He finished for me. “I’ve thought about this moment a lot, you know. I’ve thought of everything I would want to say to you, all the emotions I want to express, the feelings I need you to hear. But now that you’re… talking to me, saying my name… I can’t think of any of them.”

“I know. It’s been a while. I can’t even bring myself to ask how you are because I’m scared.”

“A mess. I’ve been a mess. But I really don’t want to do this over the phone. Can we please talk? In person? I have so much to say and I want to make sure I write it all down now that I actually have a chance to say them.”

“Then why don’t we do that? We write everything down and trade. That way we don’t have to embarrass ourselves by saying them out loud.”

I knew I’d never be able to say everything I needed to face to face. My best bet was to write, knowing the time would let me think of everything I could possibly think of. The thought constricted my chest, but brought peace at the same time. Knowing that at the end of it we would have the chance of coming back together, of being better than we were, would make it all worth it. Knowing we could get through this patch and come out the other side, that he was not only willing to hear me out but wanted this as much as I did… 

“Okay. Let's do that then.”

“Okay.”

Just one word. One word was all it took to get me smiling again. To make me feel weightless and buoyant. If I listened closely enough, the wind outside was singing to me. Like even it was rejoicing in this. Even though these past few months felt like hell coursing through my veins, this part of the journey felt necessary. To come back stronger, hell must be journeyed through. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, hell had been ventured through but unlike those two fated lovers, we would see the sun of dawn. 

“When can I see you?” His anticipation was killing my resolve to take our reconciliation slowly, to make sure all the knots got untangled. The tingle in my toes was causing my legs to shake from restlessness. 

“I don’t know. I have to go to my parent's house for their-”

“Spring cleaning thing, right. That’s okay. I’ll wait.” His downtrodden voice had switched to a hopeful and I could see his face in my mind’s eye, eyes twinkling when he became optimistic. “As long as it takes.” He whispered. 

“I’ll call you when I land?”

“Or before? If you want…”

That hope again…

“I’ll call you when I pack later tonight.” A content hum from the other side of the line.. 

This is going to work this time.

*

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. Your sister is older now! She can’t still be teasing you like that.” I was curled up in my childhood home, on the living room on the couch I would sleep on when I was sick so my mom could take care of me. It held so many memories, so much time was spent on the fibers of thread that had started to fringe. These threads I was picking at were the only thing I had the mental capability to do while on the phone, trying my best to keep as quiet as possible while the rest of the house slept. 

“It’s true! You should’ve seen her at Christmas, she was on a roll.” There it was again. That familiar pang of guilt at any mention of the time spent apart. Felt deep in my gut, a horrible, tangible reminder that it was never supposed to be. 

“I wish I could’ve been there.” I let my voice trail off, hoping my thoughts were readable to him. To anyone else, they wouldn’t be but I was forgetting how well the boy on the other side knew me. 

“Hey. Don’t do that. We both know how it would’ve been. And maybe if we hadn’t spent that time apart, we never would’ve come back like this. Ready to hear each other out and not jump to any conclusions. Right?” I let his words marinate, my own thoughts earlier that day exactly matching what he’d said aloud. “Right?” He said a little softer, as if questioning himself now. I realized I hadn’t said anything yet. 

“One more week, right? I can do that. We can do that.” It was his turn to laugh.

“We can do this. Enjoy the time with your family while you still can. Because when I see you again, I’m never letting you leave ever again.”

*

“You’re coming home today, right?”

“Yep. My flight lands at seven tonight.”

“Is… anyone… picking you… up?” Gentle, trying his best to sound nonchalant. It wasn’t working, but I wasn’t going to fight it. Two weeks of phone calls every night and texting all day only made me miss him more than I would ever admit out loud. 

“Not yet, I was thinking about texting Felix or-”

“That’s not funny.” He couldn’t see it, but my mischievous smile was back as I snickered. I hadn’t felt this giddy about seeing a boy since we first got together. The funny thing was it was the same boy. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder. 

“It’s kinda funny. Why, do you have a better idea?” 

“Please let me pick you up.” He didn’t know, or at least I hope he didn’t know, how fast my legs were going, kicking my feet in the air from excitement. I was beaming before I had to remember that he could hear everything. I drew a sarcastic sigh. 

  “Fine.” I knew he was smiling. I knew him better than I knew myself. 

*

One three-hour delay I had withstanded but the baggage claim was going to be the death of me. 

I didn’t let him come inside the airport so I could freshen up from the hours of plane ick on me before seeing him for the first time in forever. Okay, not forever, but it sure felt like it.

I tapped my foot and folded my arms, waiting so impatiently. Until I spotted it. My red suitcase came down on the belt and I ran for it. 

Chan: Outside :) 

I drew a breath and walked as quickly as my sneaker-clad feet would carry me to those sliding glass doors. They slid open and the cool air from outside contrasted to the heat radiating from the airport, but I barely noticed. There were cars lined up along the curb, each with different headlights casting shadows around them, blinding anyone who would look directly at them. I blinked a couple times, adjusting to the new darkness. And that’s when I saw him. 

He was in blue, forgoing his usual black t-shirt and athletic shorts. No, he traded them in for some longer jeans and a button up shirt. His hair was styled, like he had just come from a shoot of some sort and his makeup was still intact. He was leaning on the side of the car, staring at his black boots. It was like no time had passed. The butterflies came roaring in, not just in my stomach but everywhere. My brain had no thoughts, just the image of him, waiting for me. I was trying to burn it into my eyelids. I was afraid that if I blinked, he would be gone. 

He spotted me and his nervous shuffling stopped and a wide closed-lipped grin spread. We just stood there, looking at each other, taking each other in. My feet were cemented to the ground. He took a step near me and then another. Closer and closer until he was close enough to touch, to feel, to breathe in. I looked him from boot to eye and I had about .2 seconds before my emotions took over my body and I fell into him. 

He was warm and comforting and smelled divine. I was in his arms again and all was right with the world. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine. I could breathe again, oxygen returning to my lungs and turning into shaky breaths. I was home. He just let me cry into his shoulder and tucked his head against mine. He rubbed my back as he held me, light touches but comforting. 

When the tears subsided into even breaths, I pulled back only slightly, not wanting to break free of him quite yet. 

“Did you grow?” He asked as he laughed as he wiped my face, healing the broken pieces I had created and held onto for months. I shook my head and gave him the best chuckle I could muster. Two dark spots were left behind from the places I had cried. 

“I’m so sorry, Chris.” 

“It’s okay, it’ll dry. Or if it doesn’t, that’s okay too. I’ll have you on my shoulder all night long.” His smile could cure anything, I was sure of it. It dropped from his face for a second. “Unless you want to go home? I can drop you off too-” I shook my head before he could finish the sentence and dove back into his shoulder, just wanting to be near him. I felt his chest rumbling as he chuckled again. “Have you eaten?” It was difficult, but I shook my head without leaving his shoulder. His grip on me tightened. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

*

“I can’t believe you remember this place. You took me here when you won your first award, didn’t you? You said-”

“Right! That’s right, I did bring you here. I wanted to get away from the kids after they got drunk for our first win.”

“And you didn’t want to drink so you called me instead. And we came here.” 

“Yes we did.” He sat back in his chair, his half-empty water glass the only thing in front of him as we waited for our food. 

“Didn’t you choke on your kimchi?” A slow grin grew on my face as I relived the memory.

“Because you made me laugh! I could’ve died. Stop laughing, it’s not funny!”

“Contradictory for you to say because you’re laughing too! Must have been so traumatic for you if you’re laughing about it now.” His expression matched mine, like the twins we were. Meant to be. 

“Laughing through the pain.” I ‘hmm’d at that and our server rolled her cart over with our food, setting it down in front of each of us before I could say what I was thinking. The small bowl of kimchi stew boiled in front of me, the perfect thing on a cool spring night like this one. Chris had gotten a boiling bowl of ramyeon with all his toppings. Soup was definitely the way to go.

I arranged my bowls of sides and rice the way I wanted and picked up my spoon to dip in when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple sitting across from each other, one slouching into the corner facing away from me and the other peering over his sunglasses at me. When I caught his eye, he quickly pushed them back up and sipped from his cup and looked around him. I thought nothing of it until I realized the glasses he was wearing looked too familiar, and at second glance, the one facing away from me was wearing his Versace hat backwards. They were trying a little too hard to look casual, purposefully not glancing my way again. I had to chuckle.

“Chris, why are Hyunjin and Han sitting at a table directly in my eyesight?” His shocked expression and sudden turn relayed that he truly had no idea they were there. My mouth was starting to hurt from holding back laughter. Chris faced me again and buried his face in his hands. A small groan slipped past his lips. He moved his hands so he could speak clearly.

“I’m going to kill them. I’m actually going to kill them.” He made no move to get up though. I tilted my head so I was staring at them until they noticed, which didn’t take long. Han slowly took his sunglasses off and grimaced. I raised my eyebrow until Hyunjin turned to face me too, taking off his hat and glasses as well, wearing a similar expression to his accomplice. I pushed my hand in a ‘shoo’-ing motion and Han rolled his eyes. He mumbled something to Hyunjin and they both rose and left without another look back. 

I watched them clear the road and turn the corner, safely out of sight. Chris was boring holes into his cup, like it would start levitating through his sheer power of will. He huffed.

“Seems like they might have missed me more than you did.” My brow still raised, I smirked at him. He scoffed. 

“Not a chance.” That twinkle was back. And I had just then made it my life’s mission to make sure it never left again.

[autistic-duck]

(Very long post, sorry.)

I had an experience with a college professor last semester that really got me thinking about academics and ableism, specifically in college writing.

A few months ago, my class was having an open discussion, and I brought up an opinion that had been on my mind for a while.

I basically said, "There's a gap between college-level writing and the average person's reading level that we need to fill. Nobody should need to look up words every three seconds to understand a study that could affect their life, so we either need more people to rewrite these studies for the general public to understand, or these studies, in general, should be published with language that isn't so complicated."

My professor responded by saying something like, "Sure, that's a good goal. However, wouldn't a better goal be to raise the average person's reading level so that everyone can understand college-level writing?"

I (in my frantic and confused way) tried to bring up the fact that there are people born at a disadvantage in life. In fact, getting everyone to a perfect college reading level isn't a realistic goal. It certainly isn't for me, and I don't want it to have to be for other people. In fact, the professor who told me this also struggled to understand the chapters we were assigned to read in that class.

Really, it all comes down to this: college-level language is inaccessible.

Even more importantly, many people will never be able to understand most of the huge words thrown around in college writing.

At school, I am constantly told my writing style is "simple" and "easy to understand." This is something my classmates have told me isn't "bad" but just "different." However, I'm still insecure whenever someone mentions it because it is always pointed out. I use a smaller vocabulary, they seem to say, but don't worry. It's just a preferred writing style, they reassure me. They think the simple language is a choice I could stop at any time.

Well, what if it isn't just a "style"? What if I struggle to expand my vocabulary? Learning one new word takes me ages because I need to see it in all kinds of contexts. Even then, oftentimes "context clues" are no help, and I completely misinterpret the meaning of a word for years because it seems like every other native English speaker knew what it meant without needing to say it. A lot of the time I'll read the definition of a new word and instantly forget it after finishing the sentence it was in.

So yeah, I'll say it with pride: Simple words are powerful. Simple words are beautiful. And most importantly, simple words are not inferior in any way to words like "quintessential" or "expedient." (I have no idea what either of those words mean even though I've looked them up plenty of times and used them accurately in essays before.)

Simplicity is why I like shows meant for all ages better than shows meant only for adults. Because in shows that are written with children in mind, there aren't confusing messages you have to spend energy untangling. There aren't unnecessary analogies or feelings that are "implied" but never said. The characters' facial expressions and emotions are easy to read and the moments where I am confused are rare.

Now, this is all coming from an autistic person with low support needs. My reading comprehension score is considered slightly above average, and so is my problem-solving abilities which means I am lucky and I can understand a lot of what I read in college. The main point of this little "essay" was to point out a common conversation I despise hearing in college, the one about simple language and its implied inferiority.

Because guess what? Language is not accessible to everybody. Many of us, even those with high reading comprehension, struggle.

Our goal should never be to make everyone capable of reading college-level books and studies. That is asking for those who need accommodations to accommodate themselves, something I'm sure other disabled people are tired of having to do. Instead, the goal should be making college language more accessible, making knowledge accessible. After all, the reader is only a fragment of the conversation. The writer is the majority of it.

TLDR; Everyone deserves access to language and knowledge that makes sense, and bigger words never mean they are better.

[icallhimjoey]

I need more inevitable sparks omggg how can you leave it thereeeee

yes ok ok ok OK here you go (rewritten 19 nov 2023) Wordcount: 2.9K

Inevitable Sparks

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

The silence in the room was deafening.

Like when you've gone to a concert and try to fall asleep in a silent bedroom afterwards with your ears ringing.

Wesley had slammed the door which had made you flinch, but you hadn't minded it, because it felt a little deserved. You could have just told Wesley the second you saw him that you had Joe over, but you hadn't. You'd tried to communicate it without using words which had backfired in the worst way possible.

You made painful, guilty eye contact with Joe as you stood in the doorway of your living room.

You didn't fully understand, though, if you were honest.

Were you doing something wrong?

Why did it feel like you were doing something wrong?

Guilt was a dirty emotion that could eat you from the inside out if you weren't careful, and you could feel it have a little nibble.

Neither of you knew what to say.

"I don't... I don't know what to do," you said, giving the bottle of wine Wesley had pressed into your hands a glance.

It was your favourite.

Joe's eyes panned from you, to the table, to the ladle he was still holding, to the shrimp that smelled and looked so good. Then he groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut for a second and dropped the ladle into the pan.

"He seemed upset, didn't he?" Joe asked for confirmation, but he knew he was right.

He let a little noise escape his throat; a shallow, muted sort of chuckle, like he only just realised how bad of a friend he’d been.

You shrugged.

Wesley kind of did seem upset, but you felt like you were missing numbers in the equation. You didn't know Wesley like Joe knew Wesley and you hadn't learnt how to read all of him yet.

It was true that he'd walked in on an awkward situation, but was Wesley not the one that had brought you two together?

Had Wesley not introduced you to each other?

Why did you having dinner with Joe have to upset him?

"Fuck," Joe whispered, letting himself fall back into the chair. Joe's eyes scanned the space in front of him once more, and you knew he was calculating what his next move was going to be.

Please stay, you thought.

Joe could meet up with his friend later. After you had, you know, gotten to know each other better.

You could ignore the gnawing inside you for a couple of hours if you tried hard enough.

"Wesley wanted to hang out tonight because I'm leaving the country tomorrow," Joe explained, revealing that the gnawing inside him was probably a lot worse.

He had his head slumped to the side, his ear almost touching his shoulder and his stomach knotted hard with strange pulls of emotions he didn't want to untangle.

"And I was about to say we could, but then... you called."

Ah.

Puzzle pieces slotted together in your mind.

"Shrimp overload," you half explained the situation to yourself and half defended yourself, fighting your cause for needing Joe.

Joe nodded slowly before grimacing.

"Ugh, and I've not seen him in weeks." Joe scolded himself, and you almost felt worse for him than you did for Wesley.

"Wesley's going to be fine," you comforted, knowing it was true.

He would be.

Wesley was a good friend.

And Joe was too, he wasn't a bad friend - couldn't be a bad friend.

The look he gave you explained what Joe felt he needed to do; what motivation he felt that was about to pull him away from you. You inhaled sharply before giving him a small nod.

He could go.

You understood.

"I'm sorry," he apologised as he got up. "I'll call you tonight, all right?" Joe stepped around you and found his shoes where he'd left them and slipped them on.

Just before he was about to step out, he turned and looked at you, still stood there with that bottle of wine in your hands, looking a little lost.

You tried your best to hide all disappointment from your features, and you smiled at Joe, but it was too weak. Too faint. Joe detected it with ease in the slight upturn of your eyebrows and your big round eyes that punched emotion right into his gut.

He sighed defeatedly through his nose and pressed his lips together before taking a step closer to you, grabbing both your arms and pulling you in closer for a kiss to your forehead.

Without much thought, you let your arms find his back and you hugged him tight, pressing the lip of the wine bottle into his shirt.

It was a cute moment, and you could feel Joe inhale you as you did the same, but you hated that this press of his lips to your forehead was all the intimacy you were going to get that night.

You spent the rest of the evening sat at your table, staring at your phone, lazily picking shrimp from the pan and discarding their tails onto Joe's plate as you ate.

You were waiting for a text, or a call, from either Joe or from Wesley.

Surely, they'd talk and then immediately one of them would fill you in, right?

To fill the time you'd called another friend for some distraction, but you had only been able to half listen to them. They didn't know Wesley or Joe, and you didn't want to explain the whole story, so you just talked about random other things. Mostly about things going on in their life. Which was fine. It just wasn't what was on the forefront of your mind right now.

At 10PM you decided to go for a shower, and if Joe still hadn't called you afterwards, you were going to give him a ring.

You'd never showered faster.

You knew there was conditioner left in your hair still, but you had to go check your phone.

Nothing.

Joe still hadn't called, and the rejection you felt in your chest fueled enough adrenaline into your veins for you to call Joe yourself.

So, with dripping wet hair and a heart beating so heavily you could feel it in your throat, you stood naked in your bathroom and waited for the dial tone.

It rang twice, and then...

"Hey, this is Joe, leave a message and I'll try to get back to you,"

Voicemail?!

Joe had never sent you to voicemail before, and you feared maybe he'd gotten into a fight with Wesley.

Over you?

You hoped not.

What if he was still with him now?

You let your finger hover over Wesley's name in your contact list. Would Wesley also send you to voicemail if you called him?

Before you had the chance to find out, you received a text that drained all the colour from your face as you felt something inside your chest splinter.

"Maybe it's best if we stayed friends"

The way nausea hit your system immediately was of great concern to you, because your brain tried to rationalise it all just as quick as heavy emotions found you. Two voices inside of you, one trying to process information and the other trying to protect you at the same time.

Joe hadn't even kissed you.

Yes, he had, but only on your forehead and it was a little sad but also a little romantic.

To an outsider you would have been just friends all this time, anyway.

Friendship's an important building block in a relationship.

Maybe Joe didn't even like shrimp and you'd ruined it before anything had even really begun.

But that would mean Joe'd come over just for you, which somehow felt worse.

You weren't dating.

But you called each other almost every night and would listen to each other as you brushed your teeth.

Or exclusive, for that matter.

The little time Joe had was divided up between Wesley and you, and he hadn't even gotten to see Wesley at all that month - how was Joe going to also be talking to other girls? He couldn't be. For practical reasons alone, he couldn't be.

Nothing had happened.

Yet.

Nothing.

Had.

Happened.

So then, why were you crying?

You decided you wouldn't call Wesley. Whatever had happened in between Joe leaving your flat with soft lips that promised he would call and this text message he'd just sent had obviously something to do with Wesley.

So fuck Wesley.

He could die.

And the next morning, when Wesley posted a story to Instragram of himself peering out the small window of a plane, he could die even more.

So what now?

Wesley was off with Joe on his work trip, and outwardly, you were a little sad. Inside, though, you were big sad, but you also knew how dating worked and these things just happened, didn't they?

Within the solitary space of your own home, you allowed yourself to really feel the big sad, and you forced yourself to sit with your emotions, because you knew that if you didn't, it would creep through and seep out in the most inconvenient of moments.

Like when you'd order a coffee and remembered how Joe thought you liked it with cow's milk, which you absolutely fucking didn't.

Or when you'd had a zoom meeting for work, and remembered how Joe had made you continuously laugh throughout the one that he missed and had gotten yelled at for because rescheduling almost seemed impossible.

Or even when you'd be out food shopping and would come across frozen bags of shrimp in the freezer section.

No.

It was best you let yourself cry for a while. That meant you could get over it faster, and be normal around Wesley when he got back, because after thinking it over a lot, you decided Wesley didn't actually need to die.

He was just a sad friend that got given a nice gesture - that was all.

So after two tear-filled days, when you received a text from Wesley with a silent video of him smoking outside of a restaurant somewhere late at night that panned to Joe and had him pull a stupid face when he noticed he was being filmed, you sent back that you hoped they were enjoying themselves. Because you did.

A few days later, just when you started thinking that maybe by now they might be back from their trip, you got a call from Wesley.

"Hey,"

"Got any plans for tonight?" Wesley didn't even say hi, but went straight for the important stuff.

He had missed you and wanted to hang out.

"I don't," you answered, because who would you be spending your time with these days if not with Joe or with Wesley?

"I was planning on decorating my place for Christmas," you added, peering over at your still empty Christmas tree.

"Are you sure? No other things planned? If I come over I won't walk in on, oh, I don't know, a romantic dinner date? There won't be another man in your flat?" Wesley teased.

It was a bad joke that you thought was meant to ease the uncomfortable thing you hadn't yet talked about.

"Ha, ha," you sarcastically commented, and you heard Wesley snigger.

You couldn't help but feel that Wesley's playful comments were a little misplaced, even if Wesley had meant well, but you were happy to hear his laughter anyway.

"I'll come help. You still have that bottle of wine?"

"Do you... do you know me at all?" you rolled your eyes and let Wesley hear it through your voice. It made him laugh.

"Okay, so I'll bring another bottle, what time do you want me over?"

And that was that.

Wesley was going to come over and bring wine and you were still friends even though Joe didn't want to kiss you anymore.

It was going to be fine.

When you opened the door for Wesley that evening and found his smiling, stupid, smug face holding up two bottles of your favourite wine, you couldn't help but smile back as you let him in.

"There's an empty spot there, still," you commented, stepping back from the Christmas tree as you gave it a once over whilst nursing your glass of wine.

"Yea, well, you're out of baubles," Wesley let himself fall onto your sofa before reaching for his glass, clearly done fidgeting with little wire hooks that kept tangling together.

"No I'm not," you said, pointing at the clear plastic storage tub that held all your Christmas things.

"I'm not letting you hang the glass ones down that low," Wesley said, using the excuse that he was afraid careless shins would knock them out.

You knew he just didn't want to get up again, but Wesley had helped plenty, so for now, the Christmas tree looked decorated enough and you plopped down on the sofa next to him.

All night, the chat between the two of you had been casual, almost like it had been before you'd ever even met Joe. Except Wesley kept nonchalantly mentioning Joe and kept trying to innocently poke fun a little, but you never bit. Instead you didn't react, sang along with a line from a Christmas song that was playing and after a while, Wesley noticed how you ignored every single mention of Joe, changed the subject skillfully, and at one point, even frowned a little. This wasn't the shy blushes, soft giggles and starry eyes he'd gotten used to from you at the mention of Joe.

"How is it... how's it going?" Wesley carefully asked once you were both seated and had proudly looked at your lit up Christmas tree for a moment.

You looked at him to gain how genuine the question was.

"With you and Joe?" Wesley clarified, and you gave him an unappreciative glare.

"Wesley, if you think you're being funny, stop."

"Huh?" Wesley seemed confused, which in turn made you confused, and you just looked at each other with furrowed brows for a second.

"Wait," you narrowed your eyes at Wesley. "Has Joe... has he not said?"

"What..." Wesley's face dropped. "What did he do?" and his voice sounded flat, absolutely anticipating the worst.

How could Joe not have said?

He'd gone after Wesley, obviously they had then talked, and Joe had decided to take Wesley with him half way across the world... that should have left him with plenty of time, opportunity and reason to let Wesley know of the text he'd sent you that night.

You scanned Wesley's face to find if maybe he was joking. But him being out of the loop seemed to add up. It explained all the jokes and comments he'd made throughout the evening. It even explained the video he'd sent you of him and Joe.

You reached for your phone and silently opened your messages, glancing over it at Wesley every couple of seconds to gage if his confusion held up.

Unfortunately, it did.

Upon reading the text, Wesley's timid confusion turned into full force fury. You practically saw someone light a match behind his eyes as he sat up straight and stared at your phone with an expression that read absolute outrage.

"What the fuck?!"

"I figured he would have told you?" you shrugged your shoulders up high and kept them there.

"We-... what?! He sent that before we left?" Wesley grabbed your phone and held it closer to his face, double checking.

"We talked about you every single day!" he exclaimed loudly.

"You did?" to your own dismay, you heard how hopeful you sounded and cringed inwardly at yourself.

The two of you made eye contact, and Wesley's eyebrows knitted together in empathy.

"Well... no, wait... I talk about you all the time," Wesley thought back.

"Joe mostly just... listened, I guess... Jesus fucking Christ, I can't believe he sent that," Wesley groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, the secondhand embarrassment almost too much for him to bear.

"You talked about me and Joe didn't think to maybe tell you that he wants us to just be friends?" you needed Wesley to clarify it for you, to say it out loud, because it seemed too bizarre to be true.

Wesley stared into the empty space in front of him, seemingly lost in thought and he ignored your question until he placed his glass of wine on the table and abruptly got up.

"I'm going to murder him." Wesley made his way to where he had left his shoes.

"Wesley," you pleaded.

"Will you help?" he slipped into his shoes, not bothering with the laces but simply tucking them into the sides.

"Wesley," you said again. "These things happen! It's fine! I cried for two days, and now I'm over it!" you tried to make yourself believe it as much as you tried to convince Wesley. But mentioning that you'd cried over Joe, only fueled the fire within Wesley more.

"Joe's a dead man." He took his coat from where he'd thrown it over the back of a chair and slung his arms into it. "Dead. Deceased. Perished. Gone."

"You're drunk, maybe, let's not-"

"I'll see you later."

"Wes!"

And whereas you thought he slammed your door loudly the last time he'd walked out, it seemed almost sensible compared to the slam you heard upon his leaving now. It nearly pulled the door from its hinges.

"Shit."

-----

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @dirtyeddietini @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @86smunson - add yourself

[aseaofyoongi]

we belong together | chp. 2

min yoongi x reader (f)

genre: min twins au; angst; smut; arranged dating themes; fake dating; enemies to lovers; slow burn

rating: mature audiences only (18+)

summary: before college you and your bestfriend yoongi promised your parents if you were to come back home single you would begin dating to marry as a way to get them to back off your love lives. upon coming back however, although you’re both single, yoongi is in love with someone else and unwilling to let them go. unfortunately, you are left to carry out the hapless promise with yoongi’s twin brother and your sworn enemy min yoojin.

warnings: lots of bickering (like an excessive amount); angst; foul language; brief mentions of soobin (txt) again; jimin feature; annoying/irritating parents; flashback scenes; emotional constipation; edited but when i was half asleep so yea lol; no smut here sorry!

word count: 7,8 thousand words

posted: thursday january 19, 2023

previous: part 1 | next: to be announced

-

-

-

There were tints of ash gray prancing around in your head.

Life was dull.

Everything was stripped bare of its hues.

There was nothing but black dotted lines and blank spaces waiting to be colored in. Your velvet fingertips sweeped past the wooden handles of your paint brushes but no matter how hard you tried, there was no strength in you to lift up the paperweight tools. No matter how much you put your mind to it, it was ponderous.

You chucked the lack of mobility in your upper extremities to the carpal tunnel residuals lingering from years prior but why was your universe dwelt behind the bland combination of pale white and dark black all of the sudden?

Surely, it was connected to your rather wild endeavors the night prior. Perhaps, the volume of the booming bass had fucked with your head or maybe your thoughts lingered back to that random man you kissed on the dance floor out of spite for the upside down twin.

Though, spite was a putrid word you had to admit you really enjoyed the way, Yoojin’s eyes glared at you as your lips tangoed against the disposable stranger pressed up on you. His intense glare read you intently—he was absorbed by your being much like a hypnotic spiral. The feeling set a fire ablaze on your skin but your eyes, they kept drifting towards him at the bar and even though you wanted to keep your distance. . No, you needed to keep your distance. You simply didn’t know how to rip your eyes away from him.

Yoojin had this thing about him, sort of flamboyant. . hard to miss, impossible to avoid aura. He filled your void and colored every inch of your life with cool tones. It spread a funny feeling to the pit of your stomach, sent tingles down to your toes, it sent a shiver down your spine yet you were repulsed by him so much.

You brushed away at the canvas vigorously, your mind was blank and you weren’t actually painting anything in particular—just insignificant lines and then some more lines.

Your mind was clouded with shape-less thoughts, just a jumble of mush. Nothing you had the capacity to decipher or untangle at that moment in time. Worse of it all was that the forefront of your mind was occupied by the one face belonging to two different people: one was the personification of your guardian angel sent to you from heaven, the one who wrapped you up in his loving embrace. The other was the treacherous Aeneous, setting earthquakes in his path as he abandoned you.

And still, your heart drew him as the missing piece to your unfinished puzzle but your mind, it knew to hate him. You could trust your mind. It was viable and it knew Min Yoojin was like a fucking fever you couldn’t break.

‘Do you miss. . .’

His lewd words vibrated down the walls of your inner ear. He didn’t get to finish what he intended but you knew exactly what he was hinting at. And you tried. . you tried to brush off the incorrigible thoughts surfacing but no matter how many times you tried to bury them in the back of your mind, they always resurfaced.

The pressing question looped and you found yourself in a mental debate.

Did you miss it?

Did you miss him?

You were over him—you were used to the achromatic path of your everyday life but of course, Yoojin just had to alter the palpitations of your heart with his unwelcomed presence.

Stepping away from the canvas the brush strokes marked the face of the twisted twin, the man you so harshly detested. Your mind still registered its rightful duty. It reminded you that despite what your heart communicated and despite what your treacherous hands created, the two of you were not meant to be.

He was not your Yoojin.

And you were no longer his.

“You do not belong to me,” you shouted at the painting sitting on the eisel, “just fucking leave me alone. You do not belong to me.”

You kicked the eisel down and watched as Yoojin laid on the floor. There was intense rage fueling your thoughts. You wanted to hurt him, you craved to have him hurting as much as you did.

“I fucking hate you,” you uttered through gritted teeth.

“Yoongi’s not here you know,” Yoojin annoyingly shoved a handful of cereal into his mouth. You sat on one of the stools in the kitchen of the Min household. Your best friend Yoongi was supposed to make it home after basketball practice so that you could help him out with an essay but it’s been about thirty minutes since the coach was supposed to let them go and he has yet to make it home.

“I know that, Yoojin,” you squinted your eyes and shook your head.

“So why are you still sitting in our kitchen like a lost puppy?” he asked, still munching on his cereal so fucking irritatingly.

“Yoongi needs help with some school work,” you shrugged, “and I personally do not have it in me to go home right now.”

“The princess has grown in wrangle with her guardians. Such an original story line in our current social standing,” you knew he was joking, yet you couldn’t help how much it stung coming from someone else’s lips.

Your life would always be a constant battle with what you wanted versus what your parents had chosen for your future and there was nothing you could do. Nothing.

“Your life isn’t much more original to mine.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he snickered.

“Is your major not marked off as business administrations like the rest of us, Mr. Photography is my entire being.”

“That’s just it, Ms. Painting is my life,” Min Yoojin was truly annoying. He was, “I am bringing forth to my parents eyes only what they want to see. They wanna see business administration checked off on my college applications? That is fine with me, but remember that majors can always be changed once we set foot on campus.”

“So you’re lying now?”

“What is lying to a bunch of control freaks?” he took a seat on the stool right beside you. Yoojin, although sharing the same exact face as your best friend, they were so distinct. Yoongi was compliant. . he listened to his parents, much like you. He was content with letting them manage his life, and not letting them in to meet the real him. Yoojin wasn’t so afraid to go head-to-head with them and even though he was aware of the repercussions he wasn’t scared of putting his dreams and passions above all else, “this is our life to live. They let themselves be controlled by their parents but that doesn’t mean we also have to comply. So no, I have no remorse for lying.”

“Hm. What else are you lying about?” You placed your palm under your chin. His entitled banter was exceedingly entertaining and while you knew how snobby an affluent teen sounded complaining of the struggles attached to his rich and fortune, he wasn’t wrong.

All of you deserved your chances at living life. Your own lives.

“They think I’m in debate but I’ve been in the photography club since freshman year,” he explained nonchalantly, “oh, and my internship is in film not for some stupid finance company.”

“You’re bad, Min Yoojin.”

“Don’t tell me you have never gone against what your parents say?” he asked, “last I checked you have enrolled in every art related elective since year nine.”

“And you also stalk me?” you gasped.

“Do not flatter yourself,” Yoojin laughed, it was nice. Soft and peaceful, and it reminded you of the way birds sang in the early morning, “I did community service in the front office last year.”

“You do community service?” you joked.

“It’s mandatory, you jerk.”

“Whatever.”

The massive kitchen was stilled by silence for a couple of seconds and the two of you just sat by each other’s side. Your vision was transfixed out the massive window behind the sink focusing on the vibrant oranges of the evening sky descended on its journey to meet the horizon. He attention was still diverted to the remnants of the sugary breakfast delicacy.

His voice once again filled the void, “do you plan on sticking to your parents’ plans?”

“I have no choice,” your tone was soft—you despised the reminder of the lack of control over your life, “I do not have a twin to hide behind.”

He chuckled, “as selfish as it may be I’m thankful Yoongi serves as the model child in the Min penitentiary. They already expect disappointment from me so there’s not much to be disappointed about.”

“I suppose you’ve been lucky.”

His hickory russet eyes turned a soft caramel under the lasting golden hour. You have spent countless occasions in the company of Min Yoojin, but never have you had to sit this close to him, or had his eyes fixed on you the way they were now, and you certainly never felt yourself sparing so many thoughts at what lingered around in his mind.

It was all foreign but you found yourself welcoming in with open arms.

“You should be a painter,” he shot you a smile as he circled the massive island to place the dirty bowl in the sink, “I can see the way your eyes light up when any one mentions the arts.”

The feeling of his absent body beside you felt lonesome and frigid, you found yourself shivering as a result. It longed to have him take his place back on the seat next to you, even if it was in silence, even if neither of you had anything else to say, but instead you watched as he trotted up the stairs. Leaving you in the past like an afterthought never to be recollected again.

He can see the way my eyes light up when I mention the arts—that was short for: he’s paying you an ounce of thought, he sees you, he knows what you long for.

You wondered if he has noticed the same starkles in your eyes whenever the two of you crossed each other's paths?

Would he grow agitated at the sceneries he’d be exposed to if you ever let him cross through the tiny entrance of your heart?

Is he aware of the strumming ballad that loops within you at the mention of his name?

The feelings you bare were caged with torment—they would not do you any good but unfortunately you couldn’t shut them out. Even if it was unintentional, you wore it in your eyes, you know you did, so why hasn’t he noticed?

Perhaps, he has noticed and he simply can not reciprocate what you feel.

Your mind chose to believe the latter.

These ridiculous vivid dreams of yours had you on the brink of losing your sanity, this was the second one in the last twenty-four hours.

It’s astounding how you had to keep reminding yourself that Yoojin did not finger you against your kitchen counter the night before, you were not working in a portrait of his irritating face right now and you were certainly no longer high schoolers ogling each other behind unspoken words and forbidden confessions of love. He would never have you wrapped around his finger the way he did back then, no longer a blushing mess.

You were an adult now, and you would act as such, and that meant invalidating his existence entirely.

It would be as if he’s not even there.

Except, he would be.

Because your Yoongi will unfortunately be substituted by him, God, you almost forgot about that whole charade. How you wish it was only a depiction of your crudest nightmares.

You threw your velvet duvet over your head and groaned in exasperation—if you would have ever been placed in the worst scenario your life could’ve steered down, this was it.

“Yoongi and I are dating,” you practiced imagining the face of the ominous twin in replacement of your best friend. The amiability behind Yoongi’s sparkling radiance was replaced by darkness. Worse of it, it did not matter how identical Yoongi and Yoojin were because to you they were worlds apart.

The bright morning sun invaded your room as it pierced through the floor to ceiling glass windows. Usually, the view of the city serenades you with peace but today it was no use—you were in your own ordeal.

Walking into the kitchen your nostrils were invaded by a plethora of scents distinctive only to the most delicious of breakfast dishes.

“Yoongi, I thought you were taking care of Jimin this morning,” you rounded the corner only to be met with the distorted double.

“Good morning,” his wicked eyes were casted on you.

“Yoojin?” you remained at your place near the hall leading back to your room, “what are you doing here?”

“Yoongi, asked me to look after you.”

“Yoongi, would never do that to me.”

He chuckled, “I have no ill intentions.”

“Your very existence is an ill intention,” you spat at him. Hurtful words you hoped would give you some sort of satisfaction, they didn’t.

“I do not remember you to be this iniquitous.”

“There are eras you miss about a person, when you pack up and leave from one day to the other,” was he truly unaware of the vicinity of the concoction stirring away in your heart? Heartbreak and vengeance were a fatal mixture.

“Is one of these eras kissing random guys in the club?” He continued scrambling the eggs in the pan.

“Why do you care about Yoojin?”

I don’t. . besides all I’m saying is I left for my own sanity. .”

“Congratulations to you, Yoojin. Did you get to find yourself? I am beaming with happiness at your tales of self discovery.”

He threw the wooden spoon in the sink, the loud clank vibrated through the apartment “you know you don’t have to be such a bit-”

“Finish it,” you yelled, “fucking finish it!”

He walked up to you, completely disregarding the food he had been preparing for you, “you don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

“I’ll be a bitch all I fucking want,” you pushed him off of you, “you hear me? And I’ll be the biggest fucking bitch you’ll ever encounter.”

The doorbell to your apartment chimed while the both of you stood across from each other, fists balled, steaming with anger.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered over to him before walking towards the front door. Looking through the peephole, you saw your mother standing on the other side of the door. A string of curses escaped your lips as you realized the gravity of the situation.

Your mom was here, but so was Yoojin who would be pretending to be Yoongi, who would be pretending to date you.

“Fuck,” you tiptoed back towards Yoojin, “it’s my mother, please go hide in my room.”

“Would you look at that? You are mannered after all,” his sarcasm certainly was not appreciated but quarreling any further would only result in him not complying. So, you remained quiet, guiding him in the direction of your bedroom.

“Thank you,” you slammed the door and dashed back to welcome your mother in as she continued annoyingly pressing on the doorbell over and over again.

“Hi, mom,” you opened.

“Hi,” her voice was skeptical and her eyes roamed around the rest of the apartment behind you, “what took you so long to answer?”

“You just woke me up,” you fake yawned.

“No wonder you look a mess,” your mother never paid you a single compliment for as long as you could remember, you were only on the other end of her criticism and spiteful words, “are you gonna let me in?”

You sighed and moved away from your stance which once blocked the entrance to your house. She took a seat on the couch and waited for you to join her on the seat across from her. Your mother was a woman of great poise—possessing perfect posture, intelligible words and a pristine reputation.

As her only daughter, she expected nothing less than perfection of you.

She expected you to mimic her very being, something you truly did not hold an ounce of interest for.

“Have you spoken with Yoongi?” She asked.

“He knows of everything mother,” you replied, “he is the man I will be dating and my best friend after all.”

“That is the precise reason, I am against this entire. . thing,” she wore a sour expression on her face, “best friends should not marry each other.”

“You also believe marriage doesn't stem from love but the size of someone’s wallet,” though, it is true that your mom stood under the same scale of hatred you held for Yoojin, you always tried to hold a level of respect for her.

Though, sometimes it felt impossible.

“Watch your mouth,” she threatened, “your father may be buying all of this but I am certain you only pulled this stunt to escape your marriage to Choi Soobin.”

“You sold me off like cattle,” you stood, now pacing back and forth behind the couch, “you didn’t even consult me about it.”

“I don’t have to consult you about anything.” You scoffed but she continued, “you simply do as you are told.”

“That might have worked when I was a teenager in highschool,” you crouched down, placing your elbows on the backrest of the couch—your eyes now leveled to hers, “but if there’s one thing I will have control over is who I get to spend the rest of my life with.”

“We’ll see about that,” your mother was a woman of her word and although you knew technically she was right, you would not marry Yoongi. It was now within your full intent to marry as you please—you would not give her the satisfaction.

“This is not a debate mother,” the sternness in your voice remained, “I am telling you I will not marry to your choosing.”

“And I said, we will see about that.”

“Good morning,” the irritating voice announced itself, cutting through the heated atmosphere you and your mom had created, “I couldn’t help but come and greet you once I heard your voice.”

“Yoongi,” even the way she said his name was distasteful. . However you were preoccupied with the concern of whether she would actually buy the twin switch.

“I hope you’re doing well. It’s been quite some time since we last spoke,” Yoojin was proficient in adopting his brother’ vocabulary, in dropping the slight slugness of his real voice and picking up the pace in his words, his mannerisms resembled those of your bestfriends perfectly too. It was a bit odd.

If you didn’t know any better, you would say this was Yoongi right in front of you.

“I could be better.” She responded barely above a whisper—almost disregarding who the question derived from. For someone who considered herself to be of the highest societal rank she possessed a great deal of disrespect.

“He’s also doing well mom. Thank you for bothering enough to ask,” you hissed.

“I’ll concern myself with asking as soon as I see you walking down the aisle with him. When I am sure you are not doing this out og rebellion,” she stood grabbing her bag and walking slowly towards the entrance in her perfectly ironed skirt suit, “and clean up the place, would you? Your father and I do not pay your rent for you to be trashing the place.”

“Dad’s name is on the lease. Not yours.”

“What’s your father’s is mine and vice versa,” she turned back and patted your check with her palm softly. Clearly not looking to cause any harm but to fuel you with anger instead.

You walked right behind and waited for her to cross the threshold before slamming the door right behind her. You placed your hands on your knees, gasping for air. She was so agitating, it literally consumed every last bit of your energy every time you engaged in conversation with her.

Sometimes you wondered what cruel affairs you had been acquainted with in your past life to ever be condemned with a mother like her.

“I thought I told you to stay in the room.”

“Things just seemed much more interesting out here though,” he walked over to the kitchen island and stuffed his mouth with whatever he had prepared.

“I’m glad my afflictions are amusing to you.”

“Not amusing. . just less boring than all the white furniture you had me staring at in your room,” he hurled himself on the couch, now using his elbows to prop himself up, “how are you a painter and your apartment is lacking so much color.”

“I’m not a painter.”

“Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?”

You shrugged, “It is.”

“No, you’re just letting them win.”

“Yoojin, I am physically and mentally tired. There is no more fight in me and I wanna be alone, please finish whatever it is that you have to do and get the fuck out of my apartment,” you waved him off, walking back in the direction of your room.

“Hey,” he called out—you turned around, “I promise I didn't mean to cause a scene with you this morning.”

“Your promises mean nothing here.” you hollered back.

The afternoon strolled in a haste and Yoojin had managed to leave your apartment shortly after you kicked him out.

After cleaning the mess he left behind in the kitchen, you showered quickly and plopped back into bed—your energy had been absorbed by the two most irritable people in your life and frankly you had no energy to engage in anything else at the moment.

You just wanted to lay in bed in the dark and be consumed by your thoughts.

But as soon as your closed your eyes the incessant ringing of your phone blared through the otherwise quiet room.

It was Jimin.

“Jiminie!”

“Baby!” He matched your squealing tone, “How are you?”

“I’m . .” You paused, “exhausted.”

“Me too. I just finished my shift—and I saw Yoojin come in all pissed this afternoon.”

“And why do you assume it’s related to me?”

“He came in cursing your name. I’m pretty sure he put a hex on you at some point.”

“That little bitch.”

Jimin sighed, “So, what happened?”

“He was just at my house when I woke up—” you sounded just as baffled as did that very morning when you found him in your kitchen, “like he owned the fucking place.”

“Yoongi asked him to follow you up and make sure you made it in ok,” Jimin confessed, “while he took me home.”

“I would have much rather slept on the sidewalk.”

“You hate him that much?”

“Hate is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel towards Min Yoojin.”

“Should I give him a beating?”

Jimin’s protectiveness lurked dear to your heart. He was a dulcet person and his friendship was your most exorbitant and treasured possession.

“It happened long ago, Jimbles. You do not have to fight him.” You chuckled.

“I was just making sure,” he giggled on the other side of the line, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What did he do?”

“Well today he spoke the truth and I just didn’t like it. .” There was hesitancy in your voice. It’s not that you didn’t trust Jimin, it’s just that no one really knew what went down between you and Yoojin besides the two of you. Not even Yoongi, “But we also have a bit of a tension filled past.”

Jimin continued speaking but his voice became muffled, your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?

Against the venom you spewed his way his words had never vacated your thoughts. Matter of fact he never left once and even tonight you found yourself entranced by his articulation.

Still lying to yourself claiming it’s a hobby?

You had heard those exact words before.

“You’re still here?” He opened the door to Yoongi’s room abrasively allowing the hallway light to seep into the unlit room while you laid in your best friend’s bed.

“Yoongi said he was coming shortly,” your eyes remained on the ceiling, Yoongi had adorned the previously empty space with dozens of glow in the dark stars, “but then again that was like. . 20 minutes ago.”

“Lies,” he laid down next to you, “something tells me you’re still avoiding going back home.”

“And you are absolutely right.”

“Do you ever stand up to them?”

You looked over to him but his eyes remained on the vague luminary stickers up above.

“I do not believe that to be an option for me.”

“Why is that?”

“They—” you huffed, “I don’t even know.”

“Tell me.”

“They just make me feel so trapped. It’s like I’m drowning in a glass of water and although they see it and have the power to ease my sorrow. . They chose to opt out of helping and just continue to pour water in.”

There was a momentary silence until Yoojin finally spoke up, “Is that not just more reason to speak up?”

“They fund my entire life Yoojin. I cannot defy them.”

“Financial ties. . That’s always a strain.”

“I mean I would run away. . but who the fuck is going to hire an eighteen year high-school drop out who just couldn’t hold off a couple months to make it to graduation.”

“I suppose you’re right,” his tone was that of defeat, because although he was intransigent

—there was not a boulder large enough for him to hide behind, “I have only been able to hide behind Yoongi’s compliant nature for limited situations.”

“It’s like micromanagement gets them off or something.”

He burst out a thunderous laugh, “It really does, doesn’t it?”

“It does.” you smiled.

Yoojin and Yoongi were twins and while you were absolutely aware they shared even their own distinctive features—somehow the boy before you wore them differently. His smile was brighter, his eyes were richer in their brown hue, his cheeks were dusted with a glowing pink.

And you were drawn to all of it. You were drawn to him.

You wish you could yell it out on the highest of mountain tops, unfortunately, cowardice kept you immobilized at the slope and you were never able to reach its peak.

You would never be able to confess.

“You hang with my brother a lot. .”

“That’s a wise observation. Yoongi is my best friend, he’s my other half. You know that.”

“Yeah. .” he drifted off, “I’m actually trying to steer this in a different direction.”

“Steer away, Yoojin.”

His gaze landed on you, your eyes finally met for the very first time that day. For a moment, the sham stars on the ceiling became blinking lights like those rejoicing in the night, sprawled out through the dark sky just outside the window. Their light source became enough to spotlight the two of you.

He was glowing like never before.

“He’s just so determined on keeping his distance from girls. . I was just wondering if you held the same ideas about boys.”

“If I’m as celibate and hoeless as Yoongi?”

Yoojin nodded. He was serious.

“I’m not really sure how to answer that.”

“Truthfully.”

“I don’t hold the same ideas as Yoongi.”

“So you. .?”

“Are you asking if I’m a virgin?”

“I guess. .”

You were aware summer was nearing but none of that justified how hot the room became in such a short amount of time.

“We’re 19, Yoojin,” you said, “I haven’t been a virgin for months now.”

“I haven’t been one for a while either.” You asked for no elaboration, just hummed along to acknowledge his response, “but I also wanted to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Why do you ask?” Realistically speaking you didn’t care about his 10-page interview questions regarding your personal life. You just enjoyed the way he became shy even though he initiated the conversation. It was cute.

“You know. .”

“Is this how you normally flirt?”

“No,” he protests, “I’m not flirting.”

“Hmm,” you began, “so you haven’t been staring at my lips for the past ten minutes either?”

His eyes blew to the size of pool balls and while you were patiently trying to get this out of him, you also realized that a tiny push wouldn’t do—you needed to dive right in.

“For what it’s worth I did want to kiss you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but you aren’t flirting with me remember so you must not want to kiss me.”

“Don’t do me like that.”

“I didn’t do anything. Those were your words not mine.”

“You’re cruel.”

You chortled and grabbed your jacket from where you previously hung it on the backrest of Yoongi’s computer chair. Your lips met his soft cheek leaving the trace of a timid peck.

“Tell Yoongi I got tired of waiting, will you?”

“I will,” He waved you off with one hand while the other remained on the cheek you kissed.

The park near the town square was empty today. As gloomy as the day was, all you could replay back in your head were all the happy memories you had lived through on a swing set very similar to this one when you were just a little girl.

Back then, you felt invincible. Like you could take on anything and come out victorious on the other side.

What would your eight year old self say today? Painted by cowardice you allowed your parents to drag you along your life like a rag doll, you let your life long crush trump your heart like dirt and now resented him for it.

You were a joke. A sad fucking joke.

The usual tint of azure in the sky was a light gray, but it hasn’t rained yet.

“Funny seeing you here,” Yoojin swept in, taking a seat on the swing right next to you.

“I arranged this meeting, remember?”

“How about you let us live in the moment,” he began swinging his feet back and forth, creating a bit of momentum. This was typical Yoojin behavior, deflecting, making jokes out of a serious situation, and being immature.

None of it was new to you.

“I summoned you out here as an attempt to have a serious conversation,” God knows you were trying, real hard. “Can you manage that?”

“I’m not five years old, you know.”

“You act like it.”

He heaved, “what is it that you want?”

“The annual end of spring Min party is in a few days—”

“I know.”

You shut your eyes as a remedy for patience which you needed to channel every ounce of. “We need to. .” you muttered, “get things together.”

“You and Yoongi have been best friends since forever. There’s no room to fabricate much.”

“But we do need to get certain details straight.”

“Analyze away.”

You weren’t looking at him, your eyes were set on the multitude of birds utilizing the fountain nearby.

“We’ll tell them you and I became closer during this past summer. I know they think they’re giving us freedom but between my father and the Min’s they have practically already planned our wedding,” you cleared your throat, “well Yoongi and I that is.”

“Got it,” Yoojin nodded, “so pretend they haven’t been setting up this whole thing. Cool. What about your mom?”

“What about her?”

“After this yesterday morning. How do we convince her?”

“There’s no convincing her really but we cannot falter in our plans or she will schedule more Soobin dates.”

“I thought that was stamped as strictly platonic?”

“Since when have our parents cared about our opinions?”

“I suggest running away,” his joke had a bitter aftertaste which resided in the back of your throat.

“I know you’re good at that,” the words left your mouth, before you even processed them.

“Right.”

“Actually Houdini,” the mood shifted and although it was within your full intentions to maintain some sort of peace between the two of you moving forward, sometimes you just couldn’t help it, “after you disappeared, Yoongi and I scattered under your parents’ instructions to find you. They knew of your love for Thailand and Los Angeles so we went there for a couple of days but we obviously did not find you.”

“You searched for me?”

“We searched for you,” you corrected, “but after we came back our parents’ scrutiny became harsher and they began meddling in our personal life a lot more than they would.”

“All because I left. .”

It wasn’t really a question but you answered anyway by nodding your head, “I guess your parents were scared of losing Yoongi as well and even on the sidelines mine grew weary that I would do the same.”

He didn’t say anything—just continued staring off into the distance. Yoojin’s expression remained blank and again you despised how little he expressed through his emotion.

“Are you going to be ok seeing your parents after so long?”

“I’ll be fine. .”

“I suppose fine is okay but we have to be perfect.”

“We’ll be better than perfect.”

His lack of words was haunting and only accentuated the dismal afternoon. Right then you noticed the darkened tone the clouds had now adopted. If it didn’t seem like rain was on the forecast before, it most definitely was now.

You shivered a bit as a swift breeze sweeped by. In the back of your mind, you knew your walk back to your apartment as overdue but

“What if we have to kiss in front of them?”

“What of it?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“If we’re dating I can’t necessarily shove you away, Yoojin.”

“I know. .” he murmured, “it’s just. This is super significant to you. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Not all of us run wild with your privilege at freedom. I’m doing what I can to satisfy my needs for now.”

“Satisfy your needs,” he licked his rose tinted lips.

You rolled your eyes, “Be fucking mature.”

“You made it too easy.”

Yoojin’s humor still tickled at your sides, and although you wanted to utter as much as a giggle, all your mind could muster up derived from every thing that happened that night all of those years ago.

You were aware you were being a bit resentful but your pain is irrefutable and there was nothing he could do to change the past or make you forget.

You would always resent him for it.

“Do you really have to walk around with your camera around your neck at all times?”

“You never know when something beautiful might turn up. I gotta be ready for anything.”

“You’re such a photographer,” you scoffed.

The trees were a deep emerald, it matched the color of Yoojin’s shirt. You hadn’t really noticed before. It was within your full intent to keep your eyes away from him—anything to stop your mind from behaving as recklessly as your heart. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Says the one who walked around school with overalls splattered with paint all over.”

“I’ve grown from that. You’re twenty-five looking exactly the same as you did all those years back.”

“Exactly the same?”

“That’s what I said.”

He laughed airily, almost snorting in the process. It was cute—NO. No it wasn’t.

“So I look exactly the same as the boy you couldn’t resist back in senior year?”

You hated him so much.

“The only difference is he was a better person.”

“I’ve changed, you know.”

“If you have to announce that you’ve changed then it makes it a little impossible to believe.”

“You haven’t even given me a chance.”

“That’s a little hard to do when my welcome was you butt ass naked in Yoongi’s kitchen, when you act one way around others and the complete opposite around me,” you spewed without caution, “you have not changed Yoojin. We are both here for a reason. Can we please not fuck it up for Yoongi?”

“Of course.”

On the day of your eighteenth birthday when the little hand on the clock struck twelve, you developed a tunnel vision with your own means of finding an apartment in order to reap some sort of freedom.

And eventually you sort of did.

Because while your apartment is far from your parents’ estate it simply wasn’t far enough and impromptu visits from your mom, like the one from this morning weren’t completely uncommon.

You supposed it was freedom on a limited time offer—but some was better than none at all.

Living in your parents’ house you often had to hide; of course they were aware of what they often referred to as your ‘less than ideal’ hobbies. Your life at their house was your own personal hell, a living nightmare and day-by-day you bore the grating corners of your soul. They disposed of your art tools, made calls to unregister you from art classes, they even destroyed your paintings with little regard to your hard work. Truly, they marked the worst years of your life.

Thankfully, you were able to make a clean escape, setting up your own art studio was the first step towards healing. You were able to work freely and display your work without a care in the world.

This was your haven; the only place where you were cocooned with warmth and safety.

So profoundly safe.

Sitting on the stool you stared at the blank canvas on the eisel, while an abundance of ideas streamed in your mind nothing was clear enough to portray. Your thoughts were jumbled into one like scribbles on a blank page all circling the one name you told yourself no longer resided within you.

The embellished walls of your makeshift exhibit were beaming as your paintings were hung on them with black frames. Every single one pinpointed a memorable time in your life—ranging from the beach you visited with the Mins’ every summer; the gardens in your family home you often used to escape to after school; the skate park Yoojin used to drag you and Yoongi to on Sunday afternoons; among other scenic places you were able to capture in your past.

It was a bittersweet stroll down memory lane.

That was typically your art style, capturing the landscapes that graced your vision.

There was your one attempt at a portrait up on the farthest wall from you. The brush strokes on his face featured the ample curves of his ethereal face, his hair sat on his head so perfectly as it usually did. Although, he was the real inspiration you had presented that exact painting as a gift to your very own best friend.

It was Yoongi to everyone else but it was Yoojin to you and it would only ever be Yoojin.

“I’m so glad you answered my texts,” Yoojin opened the passenger door to his car and stood aside waiting for you to go in but you stood beside him instead.

“Your power of persuasion has always been excessive. .” While you were couped up in the house, pulsed to the ends of earth by your own mind, reflection and existence Min Yoojin was the last person you intended on having an outing with.

“I didn’t hold a weapon to your head,” he argued, his eyebrows furrowed at the extent of your accusation, “you could have said no.”

“Get dressed. I'm picking you up in an hour,” you recited the text word for word from your phone, “doesn’t really supply much room for decision making.”

“Will you just get in the car please?”

“I do not take orders from you, Yoojin.”

“Oh, come on,” he leaned in closer to you as his lips shadowed over the shell of your ear. You felt as if you were out at sea, floating aimlessly as the tide dragged you farther and farther away. “That was one of the many things you loved about me.”

You elbowed his side, he grunted at the blow to his ribs, “I think you forget that your charms are dormant with me. Your spark has dimmed out.”

“My spark is everlasting.”

“Well, it died the moment you walked away,” you deadpanned.

“Just please get in the car,” he tried once more, he was exasperated by your banter but it only fueled your desire to see him crumble.

You scoffed, “Only because you said please.”

The minute you sat down your nostrils were invaded by the dominant fragrance of cedarwood and cypress inundating his car. A scent which was only unique to Min Yoojin, it tainted every inch of his skin; like the various paints which marked their territory on your canvas’. Just as that painting of him which wreaked havoc in your own heaven. It was intoxicating, invasive. . and just as alluring as you remembered.

If you could pinch your nose to block the smell you would.

“I hope you don’t plan to be lulled by your phone the entire time,” he closed the car door behind him before starting the engine.

“I hope you don’t think this is an open invitation for interminable conversations,” you rolled your eyes, still scrolling aimlessly through countless apps.

“I never took you for holding grudges.”

“I never took you for someone who would just believe he would be so easily forgiven,” a deep rancor rooted deep within you.

His knuckles hugged the steering wheel just a bit tighter, “I’m trying to make amends.”

“Fuck making amends, Yoojin. You’re exhausting.”

“And you’re not?” His tone blared within the small space of the vehicle. There was no serenity in your futile wanders across the deep blue sea. The foreboding clouds neared and raucous rumbles roared loudly—the streaks of thunder snapped the sky into pieces. You were astounded but he continued, “fuck I’m trying. You see that I’m trying. Don’t you?”

“Trying does nothing for me,” you yelled back.

He sighed, “I suppose we only tolerate each other today. . For Yoongi, as you say.”

The remaining car ride was soundless— the silence was increasingly deafening, causing your ears to ring continuously. It simulated the same insipid screams of lightning.

Still, you remained weightless in the buoyancy of the water.

You knew you weren’t a victim, you continued landing jabs at him. Out of pettiness, spite, vengeance. . whatever it was you dismantled him and you proceeded being drifted off by the soundless waves. The shore was no longer in your line of vision. Yoojin was mangled, though. You could read it in his features, with protruding pouty bottom lip, watery eyes and the indented wrinkles marking his forehead. Even when you found it in your heart to feel the slightest taint of remorse, you still remembered that he broke you first.

“What are we doing here?” The car pulled up to the Min boutique owned by Yoojin and Yoongi’s mother herself.

“You know how particular my mother can be about her ridiculous parties. She forwarded Yoongi the dress code set out for the both of you,” he explained, “and I figured it would be more bearable if the two of us endured this together.”

“So this is our first public outing. . Together?”

“Together.”

“You could have warned me.”

He leaned back on the leather seat, “I would but you’re so difficult to communicate with sometimes.”

“I could say the same about you.”

His eyes became ignited behind inextinguible flames and you could see your very own reflection burning away into ashes. It wasn’t always within your intention to rile him up continuously but it came so naturally to you.

“Can we just get through the afternoon?”

“I can definitely pretend.”

After handing his car keys to the valet, you and Yoojin walked into the Mins’ Boutique with your balmy palms clasped together, and your slender fingers intertwined.

Mindy, the store clerk greeted the two of you, “I organized the private fitting room with all your favorites and all the pieces in accord with your mother’s preferred dress code.”

“Thank you, Mindy,” the two of you followed the store clerk as she led the way up the glass stairs, away from all of the store attendees on the first floor, “you are too good to us.”

She was a short woman in her mid-forties who had been employed at the Min boutique for many years before you even knew Yoongi. She was graceful and often treated you and the twins as her very own children when you came in to visit.

Mindy was also someone your parents’ could not buy into your life—she too resided within the pumping walls of your heart.

“How are you doing?” She pushed open the clear doubled doors revealing the massive dressing room. The lights seemed bright and in the farthest wall there were two seperate rooms hidden behind dark green curtains. In the middle of the room there was a coffee table containing a champagne bottle in a metal chiller bucket, two glasses half way full and a silver platter with a handful of finger sandwiches, “I hear there’s romance sparking between you two.”

“Oh, yes,” Yoojin released you from his tight grip and traveled deeper into the private room, “we began seeing each other this past summer.”

“I always thought you would end up with one of those love birds,” she patted your shoulder lightly, you chuckled lightly in response, “just I always thought it would be Yoojin.” she whispered for only you to hear.

“He’s gone, Mindy,” in a way even though Yoojin was right there just a few feet in front of you, it was as if he wasn’t here at all.

“He’ll be back my darling,” her smile was soft; comforting, “If you guys need anything please be sure to let me know.”

“We will. Thank you Mindy,” she vowed and exited the room before leaving you and Yoojin alone.

“What was Mindy talking about?”

You took a sip of the bubbly liquor, “There was no specific topic.”

“But the two of you were glaring at me.”

“Noone was glaring at you.” We were discussing our intertwined destinies—she thinks you and I belong together. “You are so self centered, Yoojin.”

“Self centered?”

“That’s what I said.”

He threw his hands up in defeat, “Let’s just get to the clothes. Shall we?”

He signaled you towards the dressing room while picking up his phone disregarding your existence entirely, and the remainder of the time at the Min Boutique ticked away quickly as you rushed through the countless outfits laid out for you.

One after the other, Your temples glistened with sweat as you rushed into the fifth and last outfit—the one you perceived closer to your own personal style. It’s a white spaghetti strap mid-thigh dress with a ruffle hemline.

Trying it on felt like a breath of fresh air compared to everything you’d discarded previously. It hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating every single curve.

“Weren’t you supposed to come out and show me some of the clothes?”

“No, I don’t think I was supposed to do anything,” After changing back into your own clothes you walked out from behind the curtain with the dress in your hand.

He walked up behind you—those fucking butterflies erupted at your stomach once again, “lucky for you I like surprises.”

-

-

-

author’s note: this chapter kinda sucked but i hope its an enjoyable read nevertheless.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think ;)

[hanayori89]

Veiled Emotions

*Arbiter's Grounds*

You plopped on the ground in defeat, as the information you just obtained bled from your memory. You kept notating the Temple of Time and the Rod of Dominion. You might not have taken the harsh blows Link had, but goddesses, you were exhausted.

How do I even get out of here? Something about the proximity of the stars made you hesitant to leave. You ripped the turban you had created from Link's spare linen off your head, creating a cushioned respite to lay on. The snug knot amazed you with its staying power. As you fought to untangle it, a thought came rushing toward you like a meteor catapulting toward the earth.

Didn't they say it would take more to kill me than quicksand? If I survived, how did I end up here in the mirror chamber? I'm fairly certain it is above where Link and I were. You can't sink upward. Those sages saved me. Yet, why? How could they save me when such devastation is latent within me? Link may be with me on this journey, but it is I who must save myself.

Each star that twinkled was like a head nodding in agreement. Before you could ask the mighty hydrogenic giants for more advice, a whizzing resonance filled the air.

"Y/N?"

Link's voice obstructed your thoughts. "Link!" You stood, waving your hands to signal to him. You weren't sure if it was an illusion of the light, but when Link wasn't by your side, the passage of time was agonizing.

As he barreled toward you with the speed of light, Link's whole face was aglow with relief.

You began to jog toward him. As fast as your sore limbs would allow.

"Y/N! I'm so happy you're alright!" Link leapt from the spinner; his abrupt abandonment made it spiral in the distance. It smashed into the ground with a disruptive clank. You also leapt, your feet forcing your body to spring off the ground and into Link's open arms.

He enveloped you in a hug of steel, stroking your hair in the same loving way he stroked Epona's mane. He murmured into the top of your head," I wouldn't have forgiven myself if something happened to you. I don't care if the seal was broken, and I was forced to fight Ganondorf again. Or if they stripped me of my Triforce, if I couldn't see you again I-"

You pulled away, seeing relief flood his eyes in the form of flowing tears. 

You couldn't help but crack a distasteful joke. "Link, I think you're around me too much. If it's not me crying, it's you."

He wiped his eyes; a joyous laugh erupted from him. "I'm never going to be around you too much. Time is unforgiving in its passage. Especially when that time is spent with you."

You both silently delighted in the intuitive connectedness you shared. So it wasn't a trick of the realm of light; it was a trick of the heart. Your eyes took hold of him, settling on the slits that dotted his arm. A slight smudge of blood was lined above his forehead. You tapped a finger against it, feeling its crusty residence on his skin.

"Link, we need to get your wounds cleaned."

"Wounds?" He smirked cockily. "These are nothing."

"Be that as it may, they can get infected. Even the Hero of Twilight is not immune to infection."

"Sounds like you're worried about me." His eyes were cast downward, overtly concentrated on your lips. You felt yourself drowning in the quicksand of his opulent blue eyes. Now that you've experienced both, the latter was more pleasant.

You stuck a finger into his shoulder playfully, attempting to break the tension. You didn't know how to share with Link the atrocity that resided within you. You felt a sense of duty to protect him, not just because of who he was in legend, but because of who he was to you. "You're displaying an awful lot of hubris right now."

His eyes popped out in excitement "Y/N! There, just now! I didn't hear a trace of Twili in your accent! Your speech is improving at breakneck speed! And since you felt the need to mention my "hubris," I'll take full responsibility for your rapid language growth."

"Breakneck speed? The colloquialisms you possess here are beyond odd. If it breaks your neck, then how would that speed be beneficial?" 

Not even the echoes of the sages could interrupt the shared laughter between you and Link. The sound of him laughing was one of the simplest joys that you cherished in this realm. Hearing the sound of him retain a chuckle, only to succumb to laughter, made your stomach feel funny. It was as if there were a bird trapped in a cage that wanted to be set free. The immensity of it was too much to comprehend. You had to focus on your mission. Once he was married and you converted, you'd most likely never see him again. Grimness began to threaten your mood like an overcast storm cloud.

"Link, we should go. I do have work tomorrow."

"Wait, silly girl, what about the sages? That is our objective after all."

"Ah, yes. Well- I took care of that."

"Y-you saw them? What did they say?" He stammered, unable to sheath his surprise.

You weren't sure how to formulate the inputted information the sages had gifted you. There was also the ambiguous assertion that the one sage never finished. Link had found me. Along with something else.

As you ventured into a hypothesis of what the sage might have said, you realized you too had found something.

It was within the way Link would give you an off-kilter grin. Or the way his eyes were like ponds of passion you wanted to take a dip in. It was even within the unwelcome silence when distance crept in between you both.

You weren't sure how long you could keep the bird locked in its cage. Because whenever you looked at Link...

You had found that you were falling in love.

*Kakariko Village*

Y/N had brought Link up to speed with the next task for her conversion. He couldn't help but feel he was teetering with too many plates of responsibility in his hands. He wasn't sure he could continue to balance them.

Or that they wouldn't all come crashing down.

It was paramount to Link, especially after today, that he kept Y/N out of harm's way. The easiest way to do that would be to not expose her to it at all. Link couldn't perceive another incident like today.

He just couldn't.

So, while Y/N worked, Zelda and he would go over the next course of action. He just wanted to be sure to mention this to Y/N as delicately as possible. It was technically her mission, after all.

There was also the imminent ass reaming about his not-so-discreet squabble with Aryn. He didn't want Y/N to know that had occurred. Not until he himself could understand Ilia's bewildering change in character.

Or, at the very least, come to terms with it.

The sun had long set. Link had found that his energy did not match that of the sun. He felt nothing but the buzzing of energy coursing through him. He continued to mentally note all the tasks he had to complete tomorrow. After his outing with Zelda, he would have to do the undesirable.

Confront Mayor Bo. Link hadn't thought much about how to go about it. Mayor Bo could very well be innocent of what has been going on behind the scenes. Link wanted to believe he was. The idea of two people close to him betraying him was a lot to absorb. He wanted to have hope that it was just one.

Not that numbers mattered when that betrayal came from your childhood best friend. 

Yes, there was much to be done. But tonight, he had something special in store.

Out of all his daunting tasks, the only one he cared about was making Y/N smile.

*

"Link? Are we going back to Ordon? This doesn't look like the way we came." Y/N had resumed her too-close-for-comfort position against his back. Link had tried to ignore the friction of her soft flesh melting into him, tautening when she lifted herself over his shoulder and whispered into his ear. "This is definitely not the way we came."

"Because it's not the way we came. You'll see shortly."

Link could hear a soft 'hmph' in his ear as he bit his lip, thrilled that he had managed to stump her. He was certain she had forgotten when he mentioned getting her dress fixed in Kakariko. He had it hidden in one of the compartments within Epona's saddlebags.

It had been a difficult day. Link had no idea that Y/N would come dangerously close to being engulfed in a quicksand hole or that he would be so achy from an arbitrary Stalkin encounter. He tightened his grip on Epona's reigns, frustrated with himself. He should make it a point to train with Colin more. As it was, Colin could probably kick his ass.

A persistent feeling weighed Link down as they strode into the tranquility of Kakariko Gorge. He had felt it in the mirror chamber. He had seen it on Y/N's face. The faintest shadow of sadness. Was there something she wasn't telling him? Why did they always hide things from each other? Link wanted to be liberated from duty, but how was constantly lying out of the idea of protection any better? He couldn't wait to progress to the point in their relationship where the only thing veiled would be her face on their wedding day. After all, veils were for brides, not emotions.

Our wedding day? Calm down, Link. You can't even tell her how you feel without looking like a buffoon. Yet he couldn't seem to stop his fantasies from floating up to the distant clouds above Death Mountain.

Death Mountain, it's good to see you. Old friend.

The air had taken a chilly turn thanks to Kakariko Village being nuzzled between the mountains. Behind him, Y/N shivered into his back. Through chattering teeth, she asked, "Link, what is this place?"

"Kakariko Village." Link subtly peeked behind him to see if her face reflected any sort of recognition. It didn't. He assauged, "Kakariko Village is closer to Castle Town than it would be to go all the way back to Ordon. I'm also worried about Epona; she isn't used to riding like in her hero days. It'll do us good to rest here. Besides..." A stupid smirk crossed his lips. "Didn't you say you wanted to clean my wounds?"

"I-I said they needed to be cleaned. Not that I would clean them!" The way Y/N responded was like a fish helplessly out of water. Link couldn't help himself and began to laugh in the same effortless way he always seemed to do in her presence. "You know, sometimes my mouth hurts when I'm around you. From laughing so much."

Y/N huffed, "I'm sorry. Isn't laughing better than crying? We seem to do a fair share of that as well."

"They're both good. It means I can be raw with you. Something I can't seem to do around others, I do around you with ease." Link conducted himself back into a stoic manner. He directed Epona to a rogue stall. Once she was situated, he hopped off, unloading the saddlebags. Epona discharged a satisfied rumble from her lips. This was the equivalent of a horse's sigh of relief. His forehead bumped against hers. "You did well today, girl. You always make me so proud. Now you get to rest. That feels good, doesn't it? Not having all that weight on you."

Link took a moment to take in his surroundings. Back when he was saving Hyrule, he had learned to stop and smell the roses more. You never know when you might not smell them again. Kakariko wasn't as exciting as Castle Town, nor was it as tranquil as Ordon, but it was quaint. Sure, the many houses and shops that dotted the path to Death Mountain could use a fresh coat of paint. Maybe it could even be remodeled with some fresh wood that wasn't chipped and splintered. But to Link, it was part of Kakariko's charm.

It's also secluded. The slightly naughty thought made his cheeks warm. He was grateful they were in Kakariko, where his true self could remain concealed within the unabated overshadow of the mountains. His passionate self. Link noticed Y/N was still dawdling atop Epona. He hesitantly held his hand up to her. "My lady, would you care to join me?"

She gave his hand a hard stare, as she had when they first met. Then a smile slowly spread across her face. "Sir hero, thank you." She placed her hand within his. He held it, smoothing his fingers over her silky skin as if it were a precious bar of gold. He carefully guided her off of Epona. Once her feet were safely planted on the ground, they stood with their hands still intertwined.

Her fingers remained laced within his until she took him by surprise and firmly pressed her palm against his.

The coy glance of her e/c eyes made Link's knees buckle. Should he let her hand go?

I don't want to let go. Ever.

Link waited for her to pull her hand away, but she never did. He began to slowly step forward, her footsteps pacing with his.

Until they continued walking up the path, hand in hand. A mutual understanding passed between them.

Neither one of them wanted to let go.

Could it be the veil was finally being lifted?

A/N: Edited 2/19/24

Welcome to Kakariko Village, where secrets are kept buried deep and unexcavated.

Your journey to conversion is more than a trivial fantasy at this point. You have your father, Zant, to thank for that. As you get to know the shadow within you and how to keep it quelled until it is annihilated; you must cage it close to your chest along with your feelings for Link. What would set the shadow off? And do you really want to find out?

Link is also keeping his own shadow buried- the shadow known as his developing feelings towards you.

Get the shovel ready; it's all digging and unearthing in the upcoming chapters.

Check out my other completed OOT Zelda work- No Woman Beyond

[zalrb]

Do you think it was a cop out that Damon didn't know Elena was sired from the get go? Can't one argue that he had plenty of experience to draw from considering he'd sired someone else before and had front row seats to a sired Tyler? Furthermore he has this moments on the show where he is able to put two-n-two together but when it comes to the SB that's where he draws the line?

I suppose the response to that would be that Damon wanted it to be real so so badly that he was just so blinded by his happiness and his love for Elena that he just couldn't put two and two together because poor woobie Damon 🙄

But the whole thing with the sire bond is that the reason for its existence is to make Elena act OOC. I keep bringing this up because the writing for it is inherently awful, because they needed to go against Elena's character, they needed to go against seasons of writing for Stefan and Elena,

The bottom line is that Elena as a human made a very, very, very clear choice that she would love Stefan always and forever,” she says. “But then her entire life turned upside down, and any feelings she originally had for Damon were still there, and of course magnified. There was always going to be a little bit of a confusion there for her — but not enough confusion for her to be over Stefan. It would take a lot to rip Elena away from loving Stefan. It would take years and seasons. We’d be eighty, if we followed the natural progression of that relationship.”

and they didn't want Elena to look bad going from Stefan to Damon

"She can't just break up with Stefan and hop into bed with Damon, even though part of America would like that very much. That just doesn't feel right, vampire or no vampire."

so they created a bond that emotionally enslaves her to Damon

because that's the only way the two of them can get together and they didn't think it through

As Plec says, the sire bond was a way of explaining that Elena's emotions were heightened, even more so than a normal vampire's would've been. In the aftermath of that decision, however, Plec admits, "We then had to do a lot of work to untangle the fact that they had sex while she was technically under the effects of some supernatural link."

Julie literally says that she didn't know what agency meant before this plot line

so we have a person who couldn't quite grasp what agency is paired with a person who was only thinking of the plot line in relation to how it would provide drama for Delena

"I don't know that we could pull that off today," Dries says. "I don't remember exactly why we did it, but when you have 22, 23 episodes of something, you just have to complicate it. You want people to be happy for a second, but then you just have to keep knotting it up over and over and over until it's super-complicated."

so it doesn't surprise me that when these two plus the writers room came together to untangle the consent issues of that plot line, it became Damon doesn't know about it so they can have sex and it's not like he's taking advantage of her (even though he still does but anyway) because he just didn't know and let's add some angst in there by showing that Damon has had someone sired to him before and he couldn't unsire her so omg how is Elena going to get unsired? DRAMAAAAAA. And no one thought about the contradictions and the holes in these decisions or admitted that they wrote a really weak ship that needed this in the first place.

So, basically, it's all terrible.

[libbee]

Venus in 8th house & relationship trauma

How many lovers have you had and how many did not give you trauma? When did you start dating, btw?

When it comes to venus in 8th, what comes to my mind is a sex magnet, obsessive and devotional. Stop losing yourself in your lover's hands. There is a desire to merge with and consume their lover. The best way I can think of to describe is like cellular fusion in biology:

Reference: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karyogamy

There is a lot of intense energy looking for an outlet. If not romance, she will direct this energy in spirituality. But before she will know her spiritual gifts, she will go through relationship trauma.

It can be seen that the most traumatizing lovers were similar to each other. I met the first one at age 13 and next one at 21. Both were similar in appearance & life identity. The first one ruined my teenage years. The last one gave me mental breakdown. Both these "lovers" were the most traumatizing points in my life. I was OBSESSED with both of them. Both were "secretive" and I met them in dark ways suddenly without warning. Both were predatory and manipulative. I idolized them both and put them on a pedestal. I did a lot of ego massage & codependent wife like treatment.

In my mom's bloodline, there is history of mental issues and emotional chaos. When I was 13, I hardly knew anything about life. But when I was 21, my life had evolved and I had a career, family life, hobbies. But I was infantile in the sense that I was impulsive and irrational. I could not stand being single and was OBSESSED with romantic relationships. This trauma was an opportunity to heal my generational trauma & psychological inheritance.

After my mental breakdown, I came across this content:

Some quotes from this book:

Romantic love always consists in the projection of the soul-image. When a woman falls in love it is animus that she sees projected onto the mortal man before her.

No aspect of the human psyche can live in a healthy state unless it is balanced by its complementary opposite. If the masculine mind tries to live without its “other half,” the feminine soul, then the masculine becomes unbalanced, sick, and finally monstrous. Power without love becomes brutality. Feeling without masculine strength becomes woolly sentimentality. When one side of human nature grows out of balance with the other, it becomes a tyranny in the soul.

One of the great paradoxes in romantic love is that it never produces human relationship as long as it stays romantic. It produces drama, daring adventures, wondrous, intense love scenes, jealousies, and betrayals; but people never seem to settle into relationship with each other as flesh-and-blood human beings until they are out of the romantic love stage, until they love each other instead of being “in love".

Jung once quoted a medieval alchemist who said, “Only what is separated may be properly joined.” When two things are muddled together they need to be separated, distinguished, and untangled so that they may later be rejoined in a workable synthesis. This is the correct meaning of “analysis” in psychology; to analyze is to separate out the entangled threads of one’s inner life—the confused values, ideals, loyalties, and feelings—so that they may be synthesized in a new way. We analyze romantic love, not to destroy it, but to understand what it is and where it belongs in our lives. Analysis must always serve synthesis in order to serve life; what is taken apart must be put back together again.

I unlearned all the default things I learned growing up. It was a complete rebirth in the sense of 8th house transformation. The source of my romance obsession was a deep need for self actualization and spirituality. It was a need for looking within and understanding "myself". I talk about "high value woman" but I automatically became a high value woman once I started self actualizing. I was more confident, more assertive, more stable, in control of my emotions, took time to read books, rationalized my feelings rather than be impulsive, analyzed my values, beliefs, character, flaws, failures, weaknesses. I know my insecurities and know how to handle them. It was a journey from a fucked up person to somewhat rational person. I still have my days of chaos but it gets managed.

This is what I suppose 8th house venus looks like. Self destruction and self development. However, is this the last time we go through this.......

[laylajeffany]

Sorry if this is a lot but rapid fire writing questions:

Anything you regret including?

Is KiGS gonna cover their whole senior year?

What made you add Wednesday's hypoglycemia?

How do you feel emotionally when writing about moral monsters like QBB? I want to throw up reading about it so I can't imagine how it feels to write.

What was the inspiration behind QBB's abilities if there was one?

Are there any characters or outcast abilities that you wanted to include but couldn't find a place to fit them?

Anything you regret including? I assume you mean in CftF? Xavier 😪 had I thought for one damn minute it would be as easy as production made it to untangle him from his icky grip on Wednesday - I’d have just written him out! Instead I spent a solid 400k during the slow-burn for Wednesday and Enid having to navigate and help them grow through both their other established range of emotions from canon and other friendships/gross one-sided fantasy relationships to get them in a natural place of ‘ANNNNND we’re done here’ without it just getting cut. 🤦🏻‍♀️ I felt like I was always having to give Xavier an information-gathering mission to make him feel like he served an organic purpose after the girls were together when I didn’t actually want to write him but didn’t think Wednesday would just drop him from her life since I allowed him be respectful to her wishes to stop pursuing her because he didn't want to lose her from his life completely (sounds like quite unlike the actor lol I don't really get involved in this mess but I've seen what I needed to see). Good news, he won't be at Nevermore for KiGS - he has a new purpose so I was able to write him out, too - just one scene for closure! More Responses behind the cut:

At first I really didn’t want anything much to do with Sheriff Galpin either, which was why I sent him off to rehab lol. But he ended up playing a useful role and I actually really like the way it turned out for the Galpin fam in the end to tie it back to canon; I think everyone got closure there. In the last chapter, the scene of Galpin and Emiliana hiding the murder weapon where she gets her “certificate of a job well done” and he says “this is a ticket for disturbing the peace,” is one of my fave little Emi bits lol. BIG SPOILER for KiGS LOOK AWAY IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE: We’re going to see more of Emiliana with the Galpin(s). Between their shared history of substance abuse bringing them together, and someone coming home - she’s going to find herself with a greater purpose than trouncing around the forest looking for provisions and chasing after Wednesday during a flare up. 

Is KiGS gonna cover their whole senior year? IF THEY MAKE IT THROUGH! Lol, kidding - yes, if the good lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise. It’ll probably be another 3-4 chapters before they actually start their senior year properly at Nevermore. I am taking every advantage of writing the Addams Family together at home/on vacation before we go back to school and more of the ensemble.

What made you add Wednesday's hypoglycemia?  Half her moods are probably because her blood sugar is low. THAT GIRL DON’T EAT. In canon, every time anyone else is often having food of some kind, she’s just glaring and staring. She’s got to be hungry - but more to my interpretation of Wednesday, she was/is so out of touch with her human needs that she doesn’t have hunger cues (also fairly common for many people on the autism spectrum, not just because of her Outcast abilities). 

How do you feel emotionally when writing about moral monsters like QBB? I have only recently developed feelings (started a new medication in March) and had already finished CftF so I’ll have to get back to you on that now that I have a wider range of feelings and can even sometimes cry!

What was the inspiration behind QBB's abilities if there was one? Mostly just in needing a reason for why this sort of behavior has gone on for so long - centuries of oppression, decades of horrific deeds from him specifically, and NO whistleblowers? Honestly I think I started coming up with more of his character when I was going through some of the Epstein documentaries last year, and it’s so sick and it BLOWS MY MIND how he/others got away with their behavior for LITERAL DECADES. So - I mean, I just kind of made the power up.

Are there any characters or outcast abilities that you wanted to include but couldn't find a place to fit them? You’ll see more from them in Karma! The Faceless are very interesting to me and I hate that we had to hear so much about the werewolf issues second hand (since Enid was kept in the dark) so I am very pleased to be getting primary sources and first hand look at this, even before they get back to Jericho! Thank you for the questions!

[mystic-headcanons]

you, that one anon and I, are single handedly CARRYING the autistic Jumin headcanon.

If it's alright, what would happen if MC were to help Jumin through a meltdown and/or shutdown? Or her just telling Jumin that it's okay to be him, and that they can find out who he is behind the mask together :,]?

Man this makes me wanna *hits desk repeatedly*

FR THO i love my autistic king <3 i'm sorry for the delay! i've had a very. very. eventful couple of weeks T_T

letting himself feel his emotions was something jumin was still getting used to. before her, he always imagined his feelings as something to be locked away, never to be touched and opened. a pandora's box. there was a wall between himself and his emotions, and it was better for everyone that way. of course, he was only human, and sometimes his strongest emotions would slip through. sadness would creep its way out of the box every so often, catching him in her cruel grip. there was always affection whenever he spent time with elizabeth the third, but other than that, jumin never really let himself feel anything. he had always believed that emotions were a waste of time-- that it didn't matter what he felt, because people treated him the same no matter what. no one ever cared for his emotional needs, so why would he? of course, that all changed when he met her and fell in love for the first time. she was able to get him out of his own head, was able to slowly untangle the mess that was jumin han; while he seemed cold and aloof on the outside, he had been drowning under the surface. she had been his lifeline.

she opened his eyes to so much more than emotions, though. it was her that persuaded him to get an autism diagnosis, her that stuck by his side through the assessment and the waiting, and then the confirmation. the confirmation was both a relief and an anxiety- jumin was relieved to hear that there was a reason for the way that he was, and that he wasn't just some broken mess. anxiety had quickly overpowered the relief he felt, though, because...well, powerful people weren't autistic. in his high society, there was not a single person like that. while jumin was sure a lot of them had mental illnesses, it was something taboo among the elites. something that was spoken of behind closed doors and cupped hands, in whispers while you were passing by and words with double meanings. after the diagnosis, jumin began learning about autism- both through research and through firsthand experiences. something he had to learn firsthand was shutdowns and meltdowns.

there were different types, she had explained, and it's not always a visibly emotional breakdown. sometimes it's just completely shutting down, your body present but your mind somewhere far away where no one could reach. it's your senses becoming overwhelmed to the point where your conscious mind decides to take a step back. jumin didn't understand how that could happen until he had experienced it.

it had been a long, stressful day. there were stacks of paper to be signed, crowds of important businessmen and women to be met with, and an important client backed out of a deal at the last minute and left them all scrambling. jumin's entire routine had been thrown off, and he had to meet with his father and his father's new girlfriend; she was worse than the others, had come onto him when his father wasn't in the room and invaded his personal space. by the time jumin got home, he was barely holding himself together. he breezed by his cat and his wife without a word and made his way into the bedroom where he threw himself down onto the bed and stared blankly up at the ceiling. the longer he laid there, the more detached he became from reality until jumin was unseeing and unblinking. this comatose-like state was how she found him, and she was quiet and gentle when she shut the door behind her. not that it really mattered, because she was certain that the penthouse could burn down and jumin would still be none the wiser.

she sat next to him on the bed and repeatedly carded her fingers through his hair, content to do so until he came back to reality. it took a little while, but she could see the light slowly come back to his eyes. saw how he finally started to notice his surroundings, and then notice her. "when did you come in?" he asked, voice a little rough. "mmm about half an hour ago." she responded, stopping her motions in favor of leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "rough day?" she asked, and made a sympathetic noise when he nodded. "overwhelming." he said, letting out a sigh as he closed his eyes. "i'm sorry i went all..spacey like that."

"hey, don't apologize." she frowned, lightly tapping his forehead. "this kind of thing happens sometimes. do you want me to make an appointment with a therapist or anything?" that was a new thing, too. therapy. jumin still wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but he couldn't deny that it did help. learning more about his diagnosis and his feelings and how he felt things made it feel less lonely. like, he wasn't the only one who was messed up. jumin was about to deny her offer, but caught himself. it would always be hard to let other people in, to let them see all the mangled, messed up parts that made him, but he was trying.

there was a fear that jumin had of letting other people know of his diagnosis. other than the repercussions in his society, he feared that people would look at him and label him as autistic. like they wouldn't be able to see any other part of him. it was also the reason why he felt like he never really knew himself; he never knew where his mask ended and where he began, always too afraid to find out. he voiced this fear to her, and fell silent as she contemplated her response for a moment. "i think...the people who love you won't look at you and see your diagnosis, but rather look at it like one more piece to the puzzle. like something to help them understand you better." she said, her voice slow and clear. "as for who you are...well, i can sit here and tell you exactly who i think you are without your mask, but it's more important for you to figure that out...and i'll be right here by your side, of course." her words helped to quell the rising anxiety, and he couldn't be more grateful that someone so thoughtful and so calming was by his side. "thank you." he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "i will....give the therapist a call myself. in a little while, though. i want to stay here with you for a moment."

[scratchandplaster]

FEBUWHUMP DAY 4 - Obedience

CW: recapture, Carewhumper, touchstarved Whumpee, dubcon touching, love bombing, parental Whumper, hypnosis, emotional manipulation

Previous | [Masterlist] | Next

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Even before opening his eyes, Ben knew exactly where he was.

Through the throbbing ache behind his forehead, he smelled the fresh morning air of the valley, without any trace of petrol or tangy smog to be found. His lung thanked him as he took the first big breath to wake up further. Underneath, the unending softness of countless blankets and pillows greeted his heavy body.

This was horrible, this was the one thing he was afraid to go back to. Luke would kill him.

Weight all over his body pushed him deeper into the drowsiness he wanted to embrace, but Ben realized what he was entangled in: a cuddle pile. How lovely, if the booming against his ears didn't disrupt this idyllic reunion.

"Lemme go." Ben started to weakly shove the arms and heads that rested on his chest aside, confused mumbling set in and made the Gordian knot made from concerned family slowly untangle. Oh, they were already upset at him, it was clear as day. And if Luke ever found out how much Ben had missed them, he would kill him double for it.

"Look who's awake," the same gentle voice that greeted him the night before announced. Shepard was close, somewhere above him, but Ben didn't dare to open his eyes yet; there still was a chance of this being just a terrifyingly pleasant pipe dream.

But no resistance withstood the warm pressure that began to fight the headache with careful strokes along Ben's scalp, finding sore muscle spots to dedicate its attention to and for a second, being back home felt like he truly caught on. The room gradually came into focus.

"There you are, sweetheart."

Snug in his arms, Ben couldn't look at Shepard, too ashamed by the happy faces that greeted him in this intimate circle: Birdie, Otis and their triplets, naturally, and even Shawn had managed to push himself to the front row of his reception committee: the family he left behind. What was to come next made Ben shudder.

It wouldn't stay a warm welcome for long, and why should it? He betrayed them for everything they had left behind.

If his flustered expression didn't give it away, his clothes alone made him feel like the outsider Ben had made of himself. Among the rush of people, Sam was nowhere to be seen. A rough pull in his stomach just proved to Ben that it was better this way, he could feel embarrassed when it was appropriate.

"Thank you all for welcoming Ben back," Shepard suddenly announced and clapped his hand together, "but I think we need some time alone so he can adjust."

The children started to pout, Shawn above all: "He just got here!"

Shepard tried to soothe them with a smile: "I know, I know. But afterward we can tell you all about his sabbatical and what he brought back for you."

"Gifts?!" now their excitement was stuck to Ben like a limpet, "Chocolate?"

"I- uhm, I don't-"

He was softly cut off: "Maybe we find out at dinner, does that sound good?"

At dinner, if he would still be here. Ben left before, he could just stand up and go, right? Right?

Dismissing every attendee with thankful words from the community tent, Shepard returned to his son wearing the tired face of disappointment. He looked much older than when they had last seen each other, harsh lines carved with worry graced his face.

How angry Shepard was right now felt like the most important question. The faded proof on Ben's forearms reminded him of it daily.

"Well then, how are we feeling?"

"Hurts," Ben admitted lowly. He had broken clear rules and now paid for it. Nevertheless, it was his decision…

Shepard sighed and dropped into a kneeling position before him, meeting him at eye level: "Your head? You have a hangover, it's going to pass."

"Hanging over what?"

"No, it's an expression. You just need to hydrate." He handed Ben a full glass of water that he emptied greedily.

"You drank a lot yesterday," Shepard shook his head blankly. He seemed more afraid than upset.

"The only thing he fears is losing control over you."

"I was just having fun, Shepard."

Out of his pocket, a handful of shimmering umbrellas, plastic neon monkeys and other souvenirs was pulled. Undisputable evidence at which the older man only furrowed a brow: "A lot of fun, and now the alcohol has its fun gnawing your brain away."

Ben's hands shot up to firmly hold his head in place, as if it would make a difference. Words could not express how much his little quirks were missed.

"When did you stop calling me Dad?" Shepard's concerned frown came to match the look, "it makes me feel sad."

"It makes me feel fucking stupid."

"Reuben!"

"Shepard!" he sassed back, "You can't just bring me here! I-I was doing fine. L- my friends will get worried if I just disappear without a word!"

"You made friends, that's great. I didn't see anyone with you, unfortunately, but they have nothing to be concerned about."

This, for once, was the truth. The settlement was the safest place on earth, in the center of it stood the oversized tent Ben received this tirade in. The glow of the midday sun penetrated the canvas to let the tent's inside radiate with warmth. Yet trivial how much they talked around it, both had good reasons to taint the peaceful atmosphere.

"Of course they weren't there! They-They give me space when I'm trying to hook up-"

"When you're trying to do what, young man?"

"Forget it," Ben muttered, "at least they care about me!"

Putting the glass aside, Shepard let his heavy hands rest on Ben's shoulders. His hoarse voice gave away the woe that plagued him for a good six months now: "And you doubt that I do?"

A wordless shrug was all Ben was willing to give. The topic that hung in the air was obvious to both of them.

"This conversation is long overdue, but after that night you never gave me a chance to explain-"

"I gave you a lot of chances." If no one else would, it was for Ben to hug himself tightly.

"You're right, starting over isn't as easy as it seems," Shepard exhaled and held him close while clearing his throat a few times: „I am so sorry for what happened in the past, especially the night you decided to leave. I thought of many apologies, but none of them are good enough. I can't offer you anything, but my deepest, most sincere regrets. I'm sorry and understand if this is also not enough for you to believe me. Somewhere in the future, if you allow me to, I hope to earn your trust back again."

"Shepard Cohen is a filthy liar," Luke warned him, "and nothing in the world is going to change this fact."

Hands in rough hands, forgiveness was left to the son. Ben had nothing to say.

"The only thing he cares about is himself and how he can people make dance to his tune!"  Ben held on to the reasons he left, there was no space for nostalgia, even if his heart leaped for joy at being back in the only sensible place on earth. "We are allowed to live how we see fit."

The silence spoke for itself.

"Alright. I understand you, Ben," he whispered dejected, "I finally understand."

Too petrified of the man he knew, Ben didn't look up until it was too late: quiet, thick tears dropped from his father's face down onto their folded hands. Shepard couldn't hold back his sobs anymore.

"Oh no," Ben gasped, "I didn't mean it like that. Of course, I believe you, but I…uhm."

The heart-wrenching realization hit him like a brick to the head: this hurt Shepard just as bad, it simply had to. Otherwise, he would never show himself so openly vulnerable.

"Please don't cry. I just don't know what to say!"

"I can understand every decision you made, even if it was to our detriment. You had very right to do so."

Indeed, Ben had every right and it felt nice to hear Shepard admit it. But the right to make someone feel this lousy… If he had this too, he didn't want it.

His hand carefully slipped up to wipe stray tears away: "Hey. Hey, Dad, please! I just had to go that night." A tired smile was coaxed out from the wrinkled skin.

"Are you mad?"

"No, of course not," Shepard reassured, loosening the tension in the air.

"Disappointed, then."

"Yes, but only in myself."

There they were again, the gentle hands that massaged away the sting inside his skull. It didn't pass Ben how confusing last night had been.

"Sam isn't really interested in me, are they?" It wasn't the bitter reality that made Ben curl up in awkwardness, but more so their intent for putting up with him.

"Nonsense, they are thrilled to meet you again. I'm sorry that we had to trick you a bit. You're just too young to engage in whatever hooking up entails."

"'m old enough." His hair was brushed back at a consoling pace, nearly lulling Ben back to sleep again.

"Maybe you are, maybe I just didn't realize how much you changed."

To simply lean into the quiet tranquility was heaven, like in the good old days when Ben felt secure and more like himself. By now, the water and careful touches helped minimize the ache to a dim pressure and gave them a moment to rest, until a familiar suggestion brought Ben back to the present: "Breathe with me."

Behind the peaceful quiet, somewhere pushed down by gentle words and sweet affection, distant alarm bells went off: "Never, and I'm serious this time, never let him into your head again!"

"Uhm, I think-" Ben mumbled as he got a grasp on the situation: he sat dutiful in Shepard's lap, exactly how he was supposed to. He could just get up and leave, right? If he wanted to…couldn't he?

"That wasn't a question, starshine," Shepard decided and let his words echo through the tent, "We are both hurt and I think we need to process all our feelings." The hand that just had cared through Ben's hair now snaked down to the base of his neck. 

"Breathe in," Shepard ordered and his body followed the command like a reflex, a distant sensation quickly caught up to him: mindlessness.

Shepard steered the flow of their thoughts and breath while keeping a soothing pace, in and out, so Ben could focus on the relaxation, on connecting with his inner self…on this dizzy, fuzzy feeling that crept into his limbs. Like a heavy blanket, the unwinding started at his feet and soon enveloped his body up to the head, feeling just as pleasant as Ben remembered. 

This wasn't bad, with Lukas' voice finally turned down to just a distant hum, it felt so good to stay adrift for a short second. Shepard was here with him, real and the only focus of his attention. In and out.

In. Bliss entered through his lungs and flowed along his bloodstream to his chest. Out. Troubles of the past were pushed out by the collected ease inside him. There simply was no space for them anymore.

In.

Out.

In.

Out. 

His head spun with the warped confusion, Ben was not the only one surprised how quickly he let himself drop into this state.

"W-wait-" A weak mumble rolled from his lips but left Shepard unfazed.

"Hold," the man shushed and marveled at how his lungs obeyed instantly, without questioning it for even a second. Mind light and empty, Ben looked into Shepard's golden-brown eyes and lost himself.

"Breathe out." The last sliver of resistance left his blank mind.

"Relax." Ben's head tipped over, leaning into the hands that held him upright.

"Sleep."

Loose eyelids slipped shut and his body fell into his father's waiting arms, so deep and so convinced that Shepard would catch him, like he always did, as he always will. 

Only supported by his self-appointed dad, yet weightlessly floating further down, Ben was too far gone to comprehend that his last chance to leave was long taken away.

"Remember how easy it is to fall, and all the many times you did before."

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Thanks for reading 🤍 [Febuwhump 2024 Masterlist]

@febuwhump

[wizardofrozz]

Kix x mechanic!reader, Captain Rex, Hardcase

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: swearing, mention of injury

A/N: I’ve been waiting to start posting my Life Day fics 😂 Most of them are my first time writing for a lot of these characters so I hope I’ve done them justice ❤️

Kix had been running himself ragged trying to keep up with the 501st and lending a hand to the 212th while their new medic was trained. With General Skywalker’s outrageous plans that had your workstation full of gunships and Kix splitting his time between the two battalions, you could maybe steal a few precious minutes over the last few standard weeks. It took Life Day getting closer for your schedule to die down but that didn’t seem to be the case for your favorite medic. 

You finally managed to scrub the last spots of grease off your hands, a rule Kix wouldn’t budge on if you wanted to visit him, and made your way out of the hangar. The walk to the medbay was uneventful since most of the troopers were lounging around in their company barracks, meaning you got there faster than usual. The door slid open, revealing a mostly empty medbay aside from Hardcase sleeping nearby, making it easy to find Kix sitting on a stool sorting through supplies.

         “Hello, my love,” you greeted, wrapping your arms around his unarmored shoulders. Kix jumped so hard he kicked a box of bacta patches across the room before slumping back against you as his brain registered your voice.

         “Maker above, cyare, are you trying to kill me?” Kix sputtered, scrubbing at his face.

         “Sorry,” you giggled, kissing his temple. “Been busy today?”

Kix grunted, glancing over at the only occupied bed. “Busy with idiots.”

         “What did he do this time?” you wondered, noticing the cast on Hardcase’s arm. 

         “Commander Tano initiated a game of hide and seek…again,” Kix grumbled, slowly rubbing your arms as he stared off, eyes a little glassy with a memory. “Apparently Jesse and Hardcase had the bright idea to hide on top of the same gunship so Jesse pushed him off.”

         “That’s what all that noise was,” you mumbled, resting your chin on his head. Short hairs tickled your chin, a foreign feeling when it came to Kix. “Hm, you need a haircut, dear.”

         “Yeah, add it to the list,” Kix huffed, using his foot to drag a nearby cart closer.

         “You also need a break,” you urged, gently tightening your arms around his neck.

         “No, what I need is to finish taking inventory so I can submit my order forms,” Kix argued gently, half of his attention already shifting back to his work. 

         “Kix,” you murmured, untangling yourself from around his shoulders to squat between his knees. Dull, tired eyes dropped down, your heart aching at the dark bags under his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this.” Kix sighed, his composure faltering and letting on just how exhausted he was. 

         “Then who will?” he countered. You knew his determination came from a place of love for his brothers and it only made you love him more. Although, it was slightly irritating at the moment. 

         “Yeah, I know,” you grumbled, massaging the bridge of your nose. “I just…I hate seeing you like this.” You gestured vaguely at his slumped posture before continuing. “And I - I miss you.” Kix’s eyes softened, a longing you understood well clouding his whiskey-colored eyes. 

         “I -” he started, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ll come by when I finish up here. I promise, cyare.” The sincerity in his voice lifted some of the sadness off your shoulders and you managed a small smile. 

         “I’m holding you to that,” you teased, getting to your feet and running a hand over his short hair. Kix’s lashes fluttered as he leaned into your touch before he caught himself.

         “Stop that,” he huffed, gently grabbing your wrist and dragging your hand out of his hair and down his face. You brought your other hand up to cup his face, forcing his eyes up. Of course, he shared a face with thousands of his brothers that you saw every day but as similar as they all were, they were each unique as well. You took a moment to just admire him, noting the warmth rising in his cheeks at your attention.

         “Prettiest trooper in the GAR,” you mused, swiping your thumb across his cheek. A smirk slowly lifted the corner of his mouth, and a flicker of pride lit up his eyes, making your stomach swoop.

         “Damn right,” he drawled, craning his neck to beckon you closer. You giggled but didn’t resist, aiming for a kiss until Kix stopped you by holding a single finger up. “Hold that thought,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut and raising his voice. “If I open my eyes and that bed is empty I’m going to glue your ass to it, Hardcase.” The strangled laugh that fell from your lips was extremely unflattering but it did make Kix smile faintly before his eyelids fluttered open.

         “How’d you even know?” Hardcase whined, drawing both of your attention. Hardcase was sitting upright in his bed, arms crossed despite his cast, and undeniably pouting.

         “Medic superpowers,” Kix deadpanned.

         “I believe it,” you teased, letting your hands drop down to the sides of his neck. “Now, give me a kiss so you can get back to work. The sooner you’re done the sooner I can kidnap you.” Kix snorted, rolling his eyes playfully but closed the space without further prompting.

It took every ounce of self-control you had to keep the kiss chaste and of course, Kix’s quiet groan wasn’t making it any easier. You scraped together the willpower to pull away, resting your forehead against his for a moment. 

         “You should go before Hardcase gets a show,” Kix rumbled, lightly trailing his hand down the outside of your thigh. 

         “Don’t stop because of me,” Hardcase called, a smile obvious in his voice. You laughed, pulling away from Kix completely, allowing him to turn a deadly glare on his brother. 

         “I’ll break the other arm if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” Kix warned and Hardcase just smiled wider. With an eye roll, you pressed a quick kiss to your boyfriend’s head before stepping out from between his legs. 

         “Be good,” you teased, tapping Kix’s nose as you passed. The sound of the brothers bickering drifted into the background as your mind started to put together ideas for how to spend the one night you had with Kix. 

Kix was ready to bolt when his assistant, Dart, finally came to relieve him. He was dead on his feet, barely acknowledging the greetings thrown his way as he trudged through the Resolute. Kix was halfway to your quarters when a familiar blonde clone cut him off.

         “Kix, hey,” Rex said with a tight smile.

         “Captain,” Kix sighed, rubbing at one of his eyes. “What can I do for you, sir?”

         “Hm?” Rex hummed, his brows pinching together. “I - nothing. You almost walked into me.” Kix blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked at his brother while his sluggish mind tried to process the last few minutes. 

         “Sorry, sir,” he settled on, opening his eyes wider than usual. Rex grunted, glancing over his shoulder at the other end of the hallway before moving to walk at Kix’s side.

         “Where ya headin’?”

         “Don’t ask stupid questions,” Kix yawned, picking up his previous slow pace. Rex chuckled, ducking his head.

         “Figured as much. I’ll walk with you,” Rex stated, switching his helmet to his other side. They walked in silence for a few minutes but Kix could almost feel Rex’s question threatening to burst out of him. 

         “What is it?”

         “How are you?” Rex asked without missing a beat.

         “Fine,” Kix grunted, glancing up to figure out where they were. “I just want to get to - I just want to go to bed.” Rex hummed, more questions obviously on the tip of his tongue but thankfully, your door came into view. Rex came to a slow stop outside your door, staring down at his boots as Kix waited for whatever he was mulling over. Then his brother’s expression changed, putting Kix on edge. 

         “I hope you like it,” Rex said with a half-smile. And then he was turning away, heading back the way they came from, leaving Kix to stare dumbly at the now empty spot. 

         “Finally.” Kix nearly jumped out of his skin for the second time that day, wide eyes zeroing in on your smiling face in the doorway. 

         “I’m gonna put a bell on you,” Kix grumbled, letting your drag him into your tiny quarters. He instantly noticed the wall of warmth he walked into, chasing away the chill of hyperspace that he hadn’t realized had settled in his bones. It took a few seconds for Kix’s brain to register what he was seeing. 

All the pillows and blankets in your quarters and some you had to have stolen from storage were piled up in the middle of your bunk like a nest. A portable heater was on low power against the opposite wall, giving off a faint glow in the dim room and Kix smelled something sweet lingering in the air. The room felt…cozy. 

         “Come on, get your kit off,” you urged, pulling his helmet out of his hand. Kix blinked at you, working through his foggy thoughts as he mindlessly unclipped his armor like he’d done thousands of times. You held out a pair of pajama pants you had bought him last Life Day and he didn’t hesitate to peel off his blacks. Kix stood at the edge of your bunk when he was finished, raising a brow at the mug you were holding out to him.

         “What is it?” he wondered, leaning forward to look at the dark, steaming liquid. 

         “Hot cocoa,” you answered, nodding at the mug. He carefully cradled the warm cup, letting the scent wash over him. 

         “Why?”

         “Well, drinking hot cocoa and curling up in front of a fireplace was one of my favorite things to do around Life Day on my home world,” you replied, patting the spot at your side. Kix watched you for a beat but relented, climbing onto the bunk. He hadn’t even realized Life Day was approaching but to be fair, he wasn’t even sure what day it currently was.

         “That’s not a fireplace,” Kix noted needlessly.

         “Thanks, smartass,” you snorted, taking a sip of your hot cocoa. “Can’t really have a fire on a Star Destroyer so I had to settle for the next best thing. Luckily, Rex managed to borrow General Skywalker’s heater.”

         “That explains it,” Kix hummed, taking a hesitant sip of his own drink. It had been a while since he’d had hot cocoa; it was probably last Life Day. He looked over at you, a soft smile lifting the corner of his lips as the warmth settled in his stomach, dragging him closer to sleep. “Thank you.”

         “Anytime, dear,” you sighed happily, resting your head on his shoulder. Kix couldn’t really remember drinking the sweet beverage, let alone finishing it, the warmth of the heater and the familiarity of your presence lulling him into a trance. He blinked sluggishly up at you when you took his empty mug and his eyes followed you around the room. You climbed back into the nest of blankets, carefully directing him to lay on his back so you could curl up on his chest. 

         “Love you,” Kix slurred, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You propped your chin up on his sternum, your smile making his stomach flutter. 

         “Love you too,” you giggled, stretching up to reach his lips. Kix tried to reciprocate but the second his eyes closed, he already started to drift off. He managed to comprehend your suggestion to get some sleep before he was pulled under with the memory of your lips on his.

25 days of Life Day Masterlist

Taglist: @sleepingsun501​