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deltas-writing-corner · 3 years

Text

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand.

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are.

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day.

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation.

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human.

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation.

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable.

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?”

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place…

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!”

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night.

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness-

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then.

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet.

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely.

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts.

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down.

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated.

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior.

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated.

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

510 notes · View notes

albatris · 2 years

Note

hello

it is 11pm on saturday but technically it IS saturday and i think?? maybe?? you're doing STS?? so yeah. happy storyteller saturday, may i here about the rental car gang's newest additon

well. it's now 11pm on Friday! whoops! but running late is nothing new to me, this is standard, this is standard, my apologies for the delay

thank you for the ask and ABSOLUTELY you can hear about the rental car gang's newest addition!

so, there are a bunch of things about her that are still missing from my brain, but hopefully she'll chat to me more as I write about her :3

onwards!

her name is Zeke! does she have a surname? maybe! do I know what it is? nope!

she's. hm. by day she's a romance novelist under the pen name Alannah Meadows and by night she's a renowned and deadly vampire hunter. or more likely she's both simultaneously at all hours of the day and night, balanced poorly, living mostly on energy drinks and instant ramen. when does she sleep? idk. but as long as she can manage to keep up the appearance that she's totally cool and under control and absolutely not spiraling into near-constant burnout and crisis, she's fine!

romance-novel-wise, she's pretty good at what she does! vampire-hunter-wise, she's fuckin EXCELLENT at what she does! most of the time! idk quite what her methods entail but I know they're a little bit. offbeat and peculiar and make a lot of other vampire hunters go "huh??? that's stupid" until they actually see her in action. she's also broke a lot so can't afford any fancy equipment n has to get a little inventive

her great grandma on her mum's side was also a rather infamous vampire hunter. both her grandparents on her mum's side were rather infamous vampire hunters. her own parents are........

an accountant, an ornithologist, and a funeral director!

(there are three of them, and I mean this in a polyamorous way and not a complicated divorce way)

Zeke has mixed feelings about their professions, just like they have mixed feelings about her following in the footsteps of her ancestors rather than..... not.... doing that. on one hand, she likes her 'rents and wants them to be happy, and they are! on the other, she's peeved that no one taught her ruthless survival skills and how to decapitate someone when she was like four years old and that she had to self-teach most of her vampire-hunting skills. which I guess is why her strategies are a little bit unusual and not exactly the industry standard

but yeah, her parents are all sweet folks, though none of them are super keen on their daughter being involved in such a dangerous and violent profession. and her mum has some capital B Baggage about the vampire hunting line of work due to her experiences with her own parents

now, about Zeke as a person........

hm, well, she's all about calmness and focus and intuition and balance..... she's all about meditation and higher forces and listening to the voice of the universe...... I think she fancies herself a bit of a psychic, actually, or at the very least she's someone who sees herself as having a Unique And Special Connection (read: more powerful than other, NORMAL people's connections) to the world around her. whether or not this is true or just in her head is up for debate :P but yes, she's constantly going on about how important it is to be in control of your emotions and to find balance within yourself and focus your mind....... calm your soul and centre yourself and feel the pull of the universe..... it's all very funny because she has MAJOR fucking anger management issues and explodes on a regular basis. and she's never been patient or calm in her life for more than, like, ten minutes

like she tries SO hard to be the cool calm collected wise sagelike type. but GOD everything is just so irritating how can she be expected to

peace and love and harmony on planet earth <3 but also Zeke is going to fucking deck you if you piss her off

anyway, she has rather big shoes to fill given the reputations of her grandparents and great grandma, and though she's doing a pretty good job of filling said shoes already, she really wants to make a bang in the vampire-hunting profession and achieve some cool shit no one's seen before. she tries many different avenues for this, but hops from one to the next rapidly because she quickly gets bored with stuff and loses interest. recently she's been engaged in a lot of intense research into the well-known vampire urban legend of the Garble, 'cause what could cause more of a Bang than taking down fucking vampire god? this earns her. a lot of laughter from her rivals and colleagues. because the Garble objectively does not exist, it's just a dumb spooky story, obviously

but yes, this is what eventually leads her to Darwelaide and what kicks off her investigations into the city's vampire population, and subsequently her becoming entangled with Quinn :P

she is, in fact, responsible for the two super early-book attempts on Quinn's life, one of which results in the death of expendable bit character Leo (RIP)

Quinn is! irritated! by her presence, because as soon as word gets around that Fucking Vampire Hunter Zeke is in the city, a fair few of their vampire customers and lackeys are suddenly like "oh, I forgot I have to go very very far away from Darwelaide right now immediately for an indeterminate amount of time" which puts a bit of a strain on Quinn's resources

Zeke not only believes Quinn is a vampire (fair) but also that they're basically THE vampire of Darwelaide, and most other vamps are either Quinn's allies or fucking terrified of them and staying as far out of their way as possible (also fair)

but yes, Zeke begins as a rather formidable antagonist but eventually becomes a begrudging ally to the team since their goal ALSO happens to be "murder the Garble". though she's not too pleased when this goal shifts focus slightly, they talk her 'round after a while because the end result will still be the same, it'll just take a little longer to get there. but that's spoilers! hahahaha

eventually, much to her disgust she becomes a beloved member of the gang. tragically they are her friends. regrettably she cares about them

she and Nat have a dicey relationship at first, she and Quinn have a dicier relationship, she and Yvonne are............ fine, ish, but that's a whole other kettle of fish. she thoroughly believes Alex is human to begin with because...... yeah, in the same way people look at Quinn and are like "that's a fucking evil dramatic rich gay vampire if I've ever seen one", people look at Alex and they're like "that's the epitome of Just Some Guy"

Alex fucking exudes Regular Human Energy tbh

it is important to my heart that Zeke and Alex do end up proper best friends. like. even after she finds out it's a vampire. after the Adjustment Period. like this is a reeaaaaally slowburn friendship but the payoff's gonna be. mwah. chefs kiss

man I just think they'd get along fantastically and have some interesting perspectives to share with each other, y'know?

but yeah, Zeke starts off SUPER scary and looming and threatening, this kind of.... mysterious force to take very seriously. but the tone shifts to shenanigans later. there's a lot of, like, ridiculous melodramatic homoerotic nonsense with Quinn, lots of back-and-forth hero-villain-esque banter, lots of very casual murder attempts from both parties

also "Zeke has homoerotic tension with Quinn" means nothing, Quinn has homoerotic tension with basically everyone

once she's part of the gang but still super fuckin grumpy about it, it's sort of just like....... y'know, are these legitimate murder attempts, is it all in good fun, is it just to keep the gang on their toes? no one is entirely certain. but that's just Zeke for you. she's their murder friend and they love and appreciate her <3

she finds out eventually that Quinn is actually just a regular human person and she's fuckin PISSED

also I think it's really funny given the ending of the book that Zeke gets to be like. fuck yeah. everyone look at me. I helped take down motherfucking vampire god. who's the best vampire hunter now. idiots. I'm better than all of you. gaze upon my work and weep

but what she's essentially done is just, like, doom vampire-hunting as a business and put everyone out of work so everyone is lowkey SUPER mad at her lmao

she doesn't care because she fuckin Won

anyway, this is what I know about Zeke so far!! thanks for tuning in!!

#zeke <3 #i'm so emotionally attached to her already #a rental car takes a left down rake street and disappears #sts #storyteller saturday #most ppl are miserable in this line of work #zeke is here for HONOUR and GLORY and RIGHTEOUS VIOLENCE #in her opinion she's the only one with valid motives lmao #she has a bit of a superiority complex maybe #like UGH she doesn't do this for MONEY she does it because it's her DUTY it's her PURPOSE #she's. also very dramatic

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soggyjulpod · 3 years

Text

— cargo pants

summary: misinterpretion featuring a line from the wilds, “i’m not a lesbian, sorry to disappoint. i just like storage.”

warning: lil bit of angst but there's fluff, kissing, confident!reader (whoop!), also bi reader for this plot to work out, so sorry if ur purely homo

word count: 1.7k

on a tuesday night you found yourself sitting in a circle playing a game of truth or dare which was suggested by jackson’s very own dysfunctional couple, jesse and dina.

the chatter and laughter of the game continued around you but you were only focused on the redhead who sat across from you in the circle. though the redhead didn’t seem to notice the set of eyes on her as she was in deep thought.

ellie finally looked up when dina called on her to pick truth or dare. she noticed your eyes on her and her cheeks blush pink and sends you an awkward smile.

“uh dare i guess.” ellie says. there was a mischievous glint in dina’s eyes, “i dare you to kiss [y/n].”

the color from ellie’s face drained, instant panic set in. “what? dina, no.” ellie protests, “don’t make it weird.”

before dina could respond to ellie’s protests, you spoke up, “it’s ok i don’t mind.” you say scooting across the circle, sitting right in front of ellie. you felt your insides bubble in excitement but outwardly you appeared aloof, not wanting anyone to see a crack in your confidence.

“you know we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” the redhead whispers quietly for only you to hear.

you lean closer to ellie, your lips just a hair away from her ear. this action causes a light blush to creep up on her freckled face.

“we got this, don’t want them to think we pussy out of things, right?” you say and move away with a grin on your face.

ellie gives you a shaky smile, trying to calm herself down at how close her crush was to her. you looked at each other, it felt like everything around you two had vanished and it was just the two of them.

your trance was broken by jesse who yelled at you two to “kiss already! we don’t have all damn night!”

you whipped her head around and flipped him off before quickly turning back around and taking ellie's face in your hands and connecting your lips.

the redhead was caught off guard for a split second but then kissed back, melting into it. the kiss was soft, it was just like what ellie had imagined kissing a pretty girl like you. it felt like they were in a trance again, like a veil closing around them giving them all the time in the world to feel each other.

they pulled away as the hoots and hollers of the teens around them grew obnoxiously. ellie’s cheeks grew embarrassingly red at the attention that was put on her.

ellie tuned out the game as it continued on, she was too in her own head thinking about how she just shared a very hot kiss with the girl she’s been crushing on for over two year.

the redhead only perked back up when she heard your name be called out for a turn.

“truth.” you choose. “soooo [y/n]...” dina trails off cheekily.

“yes, dina?” you challenge with a smirk and takes a sip of the terrible beer in your cup.

“how many girls have you kissed?” the dark haired girl asks.

“one.”

“seriously?!” dina exclaims in disbelief, her eyebrows then furrowed in thought, “does that mean ellie was..?”

“yep, first and only girl i’ve kissed.” you explain, you notice the surprised looks that start to appear on the faces of your peers, “what?” you ask, confused about the change in behavior.

“um, i think we all thought you were gay,” dina says awkwardly.

the dark haired girl then points to your pants, “you wear cargo pants a lot.” she states. you bursts out laughing at the archaic stereotype, “i’m not a lesbian, sorry to disappoint. i just like storage.”

laughter erupts from the room except from one person, ellie. you notice a frown appear on her face. you made brief eye contact with her in which the ginger gave you a curt smile, of course you could tell it was fake, that there was some pain behind those green eyes. but from what, you weren't sure.

to ellie that kiss felt so real, she thought there was genuine passion behind it. she had thought with that kiss and how flirting you’ve always been with her in the past that you would have reciprocated her feelings. but her heart broke has her reassurance was crumbled by a simple phrase, ‘i’m not a lesbian’

feeling overwhelmed with her emotions and not wanting to bring her bad vibe to the rest of the group, ellie felt it best to leave. she quickly said her goodbyes without sparing a glance at you, using the excuse of having patrol in the morning to leave early.

it immediately dawned on you that maybe ellie had misinterpreted what you had said, maybe the redhead got upset because she thought you didn’t like her back or had a chance with her at all.

you quickly got up leaving the group without bothering to respond to the people calling out for you, your only priority was to fix this misunderstanding as fast as possible.

“ellie! wait up!” you called out to the redhead a few yards away from you. ellie whipped her head around, a surprised look on her face.

even with being only slightly illuminated by the moon, you could see the redness and puffiness of ellie’s eyes, the green of them popping out and making it more obvious. your heart immediately sunk at the sight.

“hey are you ok?” you ask softly, your hand reaching up toward her face in concern but ellie moved her head away.

“yeah i’m good. what’s up?” she quickly responded, trying to change the subject. “can i crash at your place tonight? i don’t feel like walking across town this late and this drunk.”

“yeah sure.” ellie says, “how much of that beer did you have anyways?”

“too much, i swear i’m not a lightweight but honest to god i have no idea what seth puts in that beer.” you grin.

a smile cracks on ellie’s face, “no wonder it tasted so awful, it's because seth made it.” she jokes.

“he has his own little asshole recipe.” you joke back, making ellie tilt her head back in laughter. you smile at the fact that you were able to lift the bad spirit from your friend.

you continued to chat and talk shit as you two walked to ellie’s shed. the redhead was glad that even though she’ll never have you as her girlfriend, she could always have you as a best friend.

when you entered the shed you both immediately started getting ready for bed, the long night with your friends had tired you both out immensely. ellie handed you a pair of sweatpants to change into which you did, right in front of her.

ellie remembers the first time you two had a sleepover over two years ago, the redhead got taken by surprise when her crush started stripping in front of her to get in her pajamas with no regard that she was still in the room. she was flustered at seeing the bare skin of the girl she was crushing on.

“what? it's not a big deal, we’re both girls and it's just skin, no need to get weird el.” she remembers you saying to her. eventually ellie just got used to it, taking it as a sign of trust that you would be that vulnerable around her.

ellie changed into her night clothes as well, she watched as you take your bra off without removing your shirt, “you gotta teach me how to do that one day.” the redhead says, it was something you'd always done that had intrigued ellie.

“what, take off my bra?” you tease. ellie’s cheeks blush realizing how her words sounded. “no, i mean like i’ve wanted to know how to do it so i can do it to myself, not you.” she rambles trying to explain herself.

you start to giggle at her response, “what?” ellie says, pouting.

“it's just that you're cute.” ellie feels her heart skip.

you lay down, snuggling into the bed and pat the space next to you, beckoning her over. she lays next to you on her side. neither of you say anything as you stare at each other.

“you want to tell me why you were crying earlier.” you ask, ellie rolls her eyes and shift onto her back, refusing to make eye contact.

“it was nothing.” the redhead mumbles. “ellie i know you, that wasn't nothing, talk to me please.” you plead. ellie chews on her lip nervously, trying to decide whether or not she should confess to you.

“i, uh, shit i don't know how to say this” she starts, turning over to her side to face you, “but i really really like you [y/n], and i have for the past two years and its being eating me up from the inside to see you with other people and not be able to tell you. and i know you just want to be friends because you said that-”

you cut her off by placing your lips on hers. the redhead soon eagerly kissed back, her hands finding their way on your head and your hands to her shoulders. as the kiss progress you both got more desperate to be close, rolling over so that ellie was flat on the bed and you were straddling her waist. ellie’s hands moved to your hips and yours to the sides of her head.

the redhead pulled away from the kiss. “i thought you said you weren’t a lesbian,” she whispers.

“correct.”

“oh” ellie says as her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and confusion, “then why’d you kiss me?” she questions, a bit pissed off that her friend was leading her on.

“just because i don’t like girls exclusively doesn’t mean i don’t like them at all.” you grin and lean down, giving ellie a peck on the lips. ellie smiles, realizing that she finally had her chance.

“what does that make us then?” she asks shyly. you smile down at her, “girlfriends, only if you want to.”

“are you kidding? that’s the only thing i’ve wanted for years.” she exclaims and sits up, placing you on her lap and kissing you again.

she pulls away slightly, “i could get used to this.”

“me too.” you whisper and pull her into another kiss.

the scene from the wilds:

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams #ellie tlou #the last of us #tlou2 #ellie #soggyjulpod’s fanfic

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hxseok-honee · 3 years

Text

atlas heart || part 37

a/n : uhm,,, so this was 20 pages long,,,, whoops -- hope you enjoy the pain!

previous | next

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___________________________________

“Jimin… psst-- Jimin, wake up--”

“Wake up, motherfucker!” Jimin’s eyes fly open right before he’s shutting them again, unable to cover his face in time to block the throw pillow that’s being launched at him. It falls to his lap when he sits up, and Jungkook chuckles in the doorway.

“Y/n’s been in here for fifteen minutes, trying to be nice and soft about waking you up, but you sleep like the dead. We’re gonna miss our ride at this rate.” Jimin blinks the sleep from his eyes as he focuses in on the girl that’s kneeling next to him on the bed. She’s nodding along as Jungkook speaks, and even in his half-awake state, Jimin finds her insufferably cute. He also notices that she’s fully dressed and seemingly ready to leave, her backpack by the door.

“What time is it?” His voice is groggy, but the yell he lets out when Hoseok appears suddenly at the door, disheveled and angry, is crystal clear. It looks like the Slytherin’s also just woken up, which is bad news for someone who’s yet to see Hoseok’s infamous ‘morning temper’.

“It’s almost 4:30 in the fucking morning, that’s what time it is. Our ride gets here at 5 -- I’m leaving whether you’re ready or not.” He disappears then, dragging a fearful Jungkook with him back to their room to pack their bags. Y/n turns from the doorway, settling back on her heels as she chuckles awkwardly.

“He’s just really excited to see Yoongi…”

When a minivan fit for a soccer mom with 4 kids screeches to a halt in front of the house, Jimin has to rub at his eyes to make sure he’s seeing things correctly. At the wheel sits Jin, an alarming amount of excitement in his eyes as he chugs coffee from what’s less of a cup and more of a vase with a lid. In the passenger’s seat is Namjoon, clinging to his seatbelt for dear life, and behind him are Taehyung and Yoongi, the Slytherin scooting into the middle so Jungkook can pull the end seat down and squeeze into the back row.

He waves Y/n in, and she pulls a stunned Jimin into the back with them. When the end seat locks back into place, Hoseok is throwing himself into it, wrapping himself around Yoongi once the door is closed. His boyfriend smiles with contentment, and even half-asleep, Jimin can appreciate the quiet happiness they share.

Jin slams his concerningly large coffee cup, now empty, down into the middle console and lets out a roar of energy.

“Next stop, Quidditch World Cup!” Pressing down on the gas hard enough that Y/n actually feels the tires squeal against the pavement before starting to turn, Jin takes off, rounding the rest of the massive courtyard before flying back down the winding driveway. Her hand reaches for Jimin’s on instinct, and if she wasn’t squeezing so hard, he might have blushed.

“What’re the chances of us dying before we even get there?” Jimin chuckles at her question, cutting himself short when the car slides into traffic much too recklessly, so he just hums.

“Probably much higher than you want me to admit--”

“Hey, who has my road snacks? I’ve got such a hankering for one of those cinnamon roll thingies--” Jin reaches blindly back into the middle row, searching for the bag of food on Taehyung’s lap.

“Both hands on the wheel!” It seems the entire car’s in agreement, because Jin just returns to his previous position, a small whine leaving him.

“Alright, alright, you big babies. Namjoon -- feed me, buddy.” The Ravenclaw groans loudly, and for a moment Jimin can’t believe he’d missed all these idiots while he was away.

When Jin pulls into the campground for the World Cup, they’re all gasping as they take in the scene around them. The arena’s unbelievably massive, towering over them in the distance. The sea of people is endless, crowded beyond belief with spectators and traveling merchants preparing for tomorrow’s match. Following Yoongi’s directions until they manage to find the plot of land his parents had reserved for them, Jin pulls off into the treeline and puts the car in park.

The group stumbles from the vehicle, groaning and stretching, shaking off the anxiety of entrusting Jin with their lives for hours. It’s a little past 11am, enough time for them to set up before lunch. Y/n follows Jimin into the spacious area, admiring the excited chaos of the enormous campground around them. She can hear Jin mumbling a spell under his breath to shrink the car and put it in his pocket, followed almost immediately by Jungkook excitedly asking if he can 'do that with a house -- or Hogwarts!'

Jimin takes her hand, and for a second, she thinks that maybe he’s making a move on her, something that leaves her embarrassingly hopeful. But all he does is pull her close to him, pointing at Yoongi with his other hand. The Slytherin is pulling a tiny tent out of his own pocket and setting it on the ground in the middle of their plot of land. Y/n doesn’t even see Yoongi utter a spell before the tent is growing to full size, and she can only imagine that the inside has been bewitched to fit all 8 of them -- something else that Yoongi’s done without speaking.

“Nonverbal magic?” It slips out without her thinking, and Yoongi hears it, glancing at her and becoming visibly shy under her curious gaze. He nods, pointing back at Hoseok, whose attention is caught trying to convince Jungkook not to try shrinking himself with Jin’s spell.

“We both know it -- most Slytherins do, actually… should I call it a defense mechanism? We don’t like to let people know what we’re thinking.”

“It’s pretty fascinating, if you think about it.” It comes from Namjoon, where he and Tae are unpacking not too far away. “Even in class, Yoongi would always practice nonverbally -- he’d get in trouble for it, too.” The Slytherin shrugs as if performing nonverbal magic isn’t difficult for most people unless the caster is under incredible distress.

“What can I say? A habit’s a habit. I haven’t used verbal magic in years -- it’s just more comfortable this way.” He ducks into the tent then, poking his head out and waving them in once he’s checked the quality of his adjustments to their living space for the next couple days.

They all head inside, Y/n looking around in awe when she sees just how big it is. There’s a section of bunk beds on the far side of the room, and the rest is filled with endlessly cozy spaces -- couches and cushions, corners piled high with blankets and pillows. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner, which Jin makes a beeline for in order to 'preserve his perishables'. Jimin shakes his head at the scene, always amused by the depth of the Hufflepuff’s stomach.

Jungkook pulls Y/n to one of the couches, where they collapse on it in a sibling pile that Jimin’s gotten used to seeing over the last 24 hours. It doesn’t stop the rest of the group (sans Hoseok, of course) from gawking at the pair, everyone unused to seeing the dynamic that’s been essentially nonexistent at Hogwarts. They don’t even notice, Y/n looking up at Jungkook with emotional eyes.

“I can’t believe I have friends to share this with.” She doesn’t realize the group is listening, and they all feel simultaneously touched and saddened by her words. Jungkook only ruffles her hair fondly.

“Get used to it, kid -- things are looking up for us.” It’s then that Jungkook happens to glance up, catching Taehyung’s gaze and seeing glossy tears in the boy’s eyes. Looking around, he notes that everyone’s got a similar expression, and he wonders what they must think of Y/n -- of the girl they don’t know enough about to understand her sentiments. He also wonders why they seem so moved by her words.

The awkward moment’s cut short by Namjoon clearing his throat. He points toward Jin, who’s standing by the fridge.

“We have enough food in there to feed us for a week, but Jin said it’s all ‘snacks’, so it looks like we have to go buy lunch.” Everyone nods, accepting that Jin would probably bite them before letting them into the kitchenette, and they start heading back out into the campground.

By the time night’s fallen, they’re all exhausted and a bit giddy. It’s almost 10, the effects of waking up at 4am weighing down on the group as they sit together in front of their tent. Hoseok and Yoongi had set up a small fire for them to gather around, Jimin playing music quietly from the small speaker Tae had packed as they talk amongst themselves.

Namjoon leans against a decently sized pile of rocks, reading quietly with the light from the fire. Y/n suspects he’s not actually reading, having caught his smile every time someone had cracked a lame joke, but she doesn’t call him on it. He looks peaceful there, in his quiet corner. Yoongi and Hoseok sit together on one side of the fire, whispering to each other and smiling about things only they know. Jungkook, Tae, and Jin are huddled, having a small argument about some of the merchandise being sold by the traveling shops that are set up around the campground.

Y/n sits with Jimin, watching the group and jokingly judging Jimin’s music taste as he scrolls through his phone. They’re sitting awfully close together, and Jimin thinks in the back of his mind that they must look about as cozy as Yoongi and Hoseok do -- that thought brings him much more joy than it should.

Despite the endless chatter and liveliness of the campground, the night starts to wind down, the sky clouding over in a way that makes it seem darker than it already is. It’s a perfectly good time for everyone to head to bed, but the chaotic trio has apparently decided to escalate their quarrel, the three of them jumping up at the same time.

“We’re going to check out some stuff -- it’s important!” Jungkook calls out to the rest of the group right before disappearing into the crowd with Jin and Tae. Namjoon promptly shuts his book, standing with a groan and heading in the direction they’d just gone. He offers them a shrug as an explanation.

“Someone needs to keep an eye on them.” He’s gone soon, leaving Jimin and Y/n to make awkward eye contact with Hoseok and Yoongi. Y/n locks eyes with Hoseok, and Jimin gets the strange feeling, from the way Hoseok’s eyes widen and then narrow suspiciously, that they’re communicating telepathically. The Slytherin shakes his head subtly, and then again a little more forcefully, before sighing heavily and rising to his feet. Holding his hand out, he helps Yoongi -- who looks as confused as Jimin feels -- to his feet before pointing noncommittally in the same direction their friends had gone.

“Apparently, I’m hungry enough to go searching for a snack, even though we have snacks in the tent.” Yoongi smirks at the clear annoyance in Hoseok’s voice, tugging him toward the crowd.

“Come on -- let’s go find a tree to make out under.” Immediately, Hoseok’s gaze becomes one of mischievous excitement, and he practically skips after the shorter boy into the distance. Jimin makes a noise of disgust, mirrored by Y/n’s expression.

Jimin only properly registers that they’re alone when his phone automatically starts playing a slower song -- rather, he properly registers that Y/n had asked Hoseok to leave them alone. Turning to her suddenly as if for an explanation, he finds that she’s staring into the fire with the intensity of someone who’s very socially awkward. He can’t help the breath of laughter that leaves him, one that becomes real laughter when she glares at him.

“You look like you just realized the consequences of your actions.” Her jaw drops, and she pushes at his shoulder, affronted.

“Sue me for wanting to spend time alone with you!” Immediately, she’s hiding her face in her hands, groaning. She wonders if maybe -- if she wishes for it enough -- the ground will just open up around her and swallow her whole. Her ears feel like they’re being set on fire when she hears Jimin’s laughter ringing through the air, and she hates that she loves the sound anyway.

“When are you just going to admit that you’re in love with me, Y/n? I promise I won’t laugh.” She mumbles something into her hands, and it sounds suspiciously like ‘you’re already laughing’. Jimin tugs at her wrist, dragging her out from her hiding spot and forcing her to look at him.

“How about we make a deal?” Y/n sends him another glare, but it’s her pout that catches his attention and drives him to the brink of insanity. “We can say it together -- count to three and admit how crazy we are about each other at the same time.” Y/n rolls her eyes and snatches her wrist from his hold, turning back to the fire, which has basically died down completely by now.

“Stop messing around, you big dork.” Jimin holds his hand to his chest and gasps.

“I have never been so serious about something in my life as I am about this.” He keeps talking, a dramatic monologue about his integrity, but something triggers the alarm bells in the back of her head -- the same alarm bells that have kept her alive up to this point -- and she’s immediately distracted.

Glancing around, she finds that nothing’s changed in their surroundings -- families and groups of friends still celebrate the start of the World Cup, the chaos of thousands of people in one place never-ending. But there’s something in the air, something that sets her nerves on edge. Looking up, she realizes that it’s gotten exceptionally dark, the clouds concentrating into one dense curtain in the sky, removing any sign that the stars had been there in the first place.

“Jimin, wait… this doesn’t feel right.” Realizing, based on the pained expression that fills Jimin’s face when she interrupts his secretly heartfelt rant, that she’s said the wrong thing at the wrong time, Y/n shakes her head quickly, motioning out into the distance. “I’m talking about this -- something’s off.” She ignores Jimin’s lingering eyes on her when she stands from her spot on the ground, looking to the treeline and taking in their surroundings. He joins her when he gets a clear look at her face and sees how urgent her gaze is.

The breeze is gone, leaving her with the taste of stale smoke in her lungs, the air still foggy from the bonfire. It seems the sense of freedom had left with the boys, since all she can feel is an invisible weight coming down on her chest -- something coming for her.

And come it does, in Jimin’s frozen form and horrified gaze, staring straight over Y/n’s shoulder into the sky behind her. Whipping around, terrified about what she might find, she’s stepping backwards and colliding with Jimin’s chest before she can even register what she’s seeing. The clouds have darkened considerably and are moving of their own accord, twisting and turning as they take shape in the sky. Jimin begins to shake uncontrollably as the storm clouds become one, revealing the skull with the open jaw, a massive snake emerging from within and wrapping itself cleanly around the top.

“That’s-”

“Guys!”

“Jimin, Y/n-”

“We’re so fucked!” The rest of the group comes crashing into the space in panicked chaos, tearing through their campsite with thinly veiled terror. Taehyung and Namjoon make a beeline for their tent as the sounds of pained screams start to filter in, replacing the comfortable memories of the bonfire with something much darker. Yoongi stands near the fire pit, turning in circles and pulling at his hair desperately as he realizes where they are.

“This isn’t -- this tent, it’s in the middle of --” He stops, breathing hard, hands still buried in his hair as the thought finally hits. “My parents put us in the middle of Slytherin territory.”

Jin comes in behind everyone else, firing curses over his shoulder as he calls out to the group, scanning their faces and doing a mental headcount.

“We need to get out of here -- the muggleborns should go first.” He locks eyes with Namjoon as the older Ravenclaw exits the tent carrying a bag. Namjoon nods, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist and moving toward Y/n, who hasn’t left Jimin’s side.

“I grabbed everything important, so let’s just go.” He reaches for Y/n’s arm, triggering Jimin’s protectiveness. Jimin pulls her closer on instinct, and Namjoon sighs as he releases Taehyung in order to grab both of them. “We need to go.” He addresses Y/n under his breath. “You’re not safe here, either.” They keep eye contact for just a moment, but it’s enough that Y/n is left with the feeling of ice in her blood even after Namjoon’s turned back to the group.

How much… does he know?

Before she can question Jimin about Namjoon’s suspicious behavior, Jimin’s tugging her toward his friends as they move toward the edge of the forest. Pulling back and forcing Jimin to a stop, Y/n points at Jungkook, who has now flanked Jin and is defending one part of their campsite from the oncoming hoard of Slytherins.

“I’m not leaving without him.” The conflicted look that crosses Jimin’s face tears at Y/n’s heart, but she stands her ground, motioning back toward Jungkook. “I have to stay-”

“What? No, you have to go!” The call comes from behind her, and it’s only a matter of moments before Jungkook is by her side, shoving her into Jimin’s arms. “Take her with you! Don’t you ever let her out of your sight-”

“Jungkook, watch out-”

Taehyung yells out to him, just a moment too late. Y/n watches in horror as a red light appears just over Jungkook’s shoulder. It grows bigger and bigger as it flies toward them, accompanied by the disgusted shriek of “Blood Traitor!”, and all she can do is hug Jungkook to her as she waits for the curse to strike him in between his shoulder blades.

Pulling him close, she barely manages to catch the flash of silver that appears, encompassing them as another body slides into view and blocks out everything else. The shield charm is cast wordlessly and so powerfully that it knocks the Slytherin who’d attacked them clean off his feet. Thrown back at least ten feet, he’s left bewildered and sore.

Hoseok stands between Jungkook and the army of Slytherins, breathing heavily as the shield dissipates around them. He holds his head high as he stares down the group, resigning himself to the fact that, after years of hiding his true self from his housemates, his loyalties have been clearly defined in that moment.

The silence that follows is only broken by the soft fwip of a wand being slipped out of a pocket, and it’s as Hoseok is whipping his head around that another red light appears, its caster completely silent. The curse burns through the air, almost as if in slow motion, cutting through the space right under Hoseok’s ear with the sharp precision of a skilled marksman and meeting its target on the other side, searing the ends of Hoseok’s hair as it goes. The Slytherin who’d been poised to attack from the treeline is hurled backwards, disappearing into the forest as everyone watches him go, Yoongi’s wand still trained on the spot where he’d stood.

The cold fury that fills Yoongi’s eyes is replaced with concern as he lowers his wand and rushes to Hoseok’s side, giving him a once over before turning to face the growing crowd of Death Eaters in-training, aligning his loyalties just the same as Hoseok had. Y/n allows herself the small smile that arises when she sees the gaze that Hoseok casts upon Yoongi, filled with the kind of love she could only hope to have in her own life. The moment doesn’t last long.

The group of friends, realizing almost simultaneously that they’re being surrounded, forms a huddle facing outward, wands steady as they prepare for the attack.

“If we make it out of this shit alive, I’m going to throw the biggest fit of my life when I get home.” The mention of the Dark Lord’s most loyal Min family sets off the first wave of curses, their traitorous son the target.

One by one, the group takes down their attackers, tiring out but never giving up. Minimal injuries are sustained on their end, their will to survive too strong to forgive even the slightest mistake. Jimin keeps one hand on Y/n at all times, unwilling to lose track of her for even a moment, as if she’s not been stuck to his side all night.

Curses rain down on them from all sides, the Dark Mark in the sky peeking through the shower of red lights as they fight for their lives. Jimin feels Y/n stagger beside him, but she seems to be unharmed when he looks her over. Glancing in alarm at the moon, barely visible amongst all the smoke and mayhem, Jimin curses under his breath as he remembers the date -- and more importantly, that she hadn’t yet taken her dose for the night. He pours all his energy into his attacks from that moment on, everything suddenly becoming much more urgent.

Time passes so slowly that none of them are quite sure how long they’ve been there, fighting in a war they’d never asked for. Just when Y/n thinks they might be losing -- that they might be forced to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, or even killed where they stand -- there’s a loud pop and a gush of wind passes over all of them.

From within their circle comes the angered cry of Sirius Black, who manages to deflect a rather mean curse headed straight for Jin’s chest. He’s followed by James and Remus, the three of them throwing themselves into the mix so carelessly that it catches the Slytherins by surprise. James takes advantage of the delay, surging out of the circle toward the largest density of Slytherins and pointing his wand at the ground closest to them.

“Confringo!” The earth beneath their feet shudders under James’ command, collapsing in on itself before exploding outward, sending no less than 10 people flying through the air and creating a chaos too intense for the rest to handle. The world around them becomes fuzzy and confusing, and Y/n feels nothing except the hands that pull at her and urge her forward into the forest.

They all manage to stumble far enough away from the mess to gather their bearings, but the shouts of their enemies are not far off. As soon as they confirm that they’re all alive and relatively unscathed, Remus takes Y/n by the elbow and pulls her gently to him. Jimin is reluctant to let her go.

“I need to talk to you -- we have to go somewhere safe.” Sirius is collecting the rest of the group and giving them the location of a safe place to meet, a small cottage in the countryside where he and Remus had been living.

“You guys head there first, we’ll meet you.” He hands the keys to Jungkook, who nods in understanding as he sees that Remus has no intention to rejoin the group. Jimin starts to reach for Y/n, unhappy with their separation, but Hoseok speaks up from the back. He’s being half-carried by Yoongi, his leg having suffered a bit of damage from James’ blasting curse, but not so much that he couldn’t walk. Y/n bites back a smirk, suspecting that Hoseok had just been looking for an excuse to need Yoongi, who is absolute garbage at hiding how pleased he is.

“Make sure you come back soon. I trust you guys, and I know you need to talk in private, but I don’t like not having Y/n close in times like this.” Remus nods, acknowledging Jungkook as well, before leading Y/n away. The boys start to apparate away, James helping Hoseok and Yoongi get to the house safely before returning to join his friends. Remus has led Y/n a safe enough distance away that the Slytherins would have a hard time finding them and is explaining the gravity of the situation to her.

“-- to infiltrate a pack of werewolves living in the mountains. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, Y/n.” Y/n examines Remus’ face, noting the new scars and the exhaustion that lies heavy in his eyes. He looks nothing like the bright school boy from just a few months ago, and she knows he’s seen unimaginable things in the short time that he’s been working under Dumbledore. They all look drained and, frankly, terrified. The lives they’d been promised from a young age were fading away into this dreary nothingness, this thankless job where nothing is more uncertain than the future.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Just tell me you’ll be careful -- all of you.” Remus looks taken aback by her words, and Sirius can’t suppress the soft chuckle that escapes him, amazed at this girl standing before him, not nearly as reserved as they’d all thought her to be.

“Of course we’ll be careful, love. Don’t you trust us?” Y/n shakes her head, smiling despite her scoff.

“Trust you guys? I didn’t realize you were an aspiring comedian, Sirius.” They laugh openly now, thankful for even just this moment of reprieve from the hell they live in. Remus leans over, patting her adoringly on her head, as if they weren’t damn near the same age.

“Good, that’s good. Don’t trust anyone, Y/n, you hear me? Don’t trust anyone you wouldn’t die for. Can you do that for me?” Y/n nods, the picture of those boys in that cottage in the countryside coming to mind so easily.

“I know who my people are. There’s no one else besides them -- and you guys. So try your best not to get yourselves killed?” James salutes her once as Sirius nods. Remus moves to agree, but the sound of leaves crunching not too far away triggers an immediate response in him. Lunging forward and taking her into his arms, he throws Y/n over his shoulder and takes off running, knowing better than anyone else what it would mean if she were caught. Y/n watches with horror as two Death Eaters appear out of what looks like thin air, sending James and Sirius into action. She can do nothing but watch as they deflect curses while maintaining their ground.

Remus sets her down a long distance away, trying to warn her again, but her attention is on the action they’d just managed to escape. She tries to push past him to go help James and Sirius, but he grabs her by the shoulders quickly and forces her to look at him, shaking her roughly in the process.

“Listen to me, Y/n- listen to me!” She meets his eyes, alarmed by the frustration in his voice. “The public knows. They know now just to what extent the werewolf population is siding with Voldemort. Everything before this summer was just speculation -- of course the evil magical beasts should side with the Dark Lord, right? Well, the Minister of Magic just released a statement this morning. Everyone knows now. And it won’t matter how much we cry and beg and plead for our lives -- if they catch us, we’re dead. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Y/n can do no more than stare into Remus’ eyes, wishing this all away -- wishing that they could just be back in school, a bunch of kids with no worries about the war. But the longer she stares into his eyes, the longer she realizes that they don’t just have to worry about the war now. They’re part of it. Two werewolves with way too many people keeping their secret. James, Sirius, Peter, Jungkook, Hoseok, and now Jimin? And --

Does Namjoon know, too? Just who the hell else has to be put into danger because of what I am?

Y/n steps through the front gate of the cottage, having been dropped off by Remus -- she’s not of age yet to apparate alone -- before he disappeared again, presumably to help his friends escape. She’s barely within ten feet of the front door when it’s flying open, Jimin appearing before her with wild eyes. He rushes at her, taking her into his arms with a desperation he didn’t even know he felt. She pats at his back, unsure of what to say, still dazed from everything Remus had told her.

“I was only gone a few minutes…” Jimin pulls back, looking at her as if she’s insane.

“I don’t care. Those were the worst few minutes of my life. I hated not knowing if you were okay.” He looks her over, patting at her arms gently. “You are okay, right?” When she nods he sighs before glancing around them urgently as if realizing they’re out in the open. He tugs her inside, shutting the door tightly behind them. He’s about to motion her down the hallway into the living room, where the rest of their friends are regrouping, but she stops him. The look she gives him is suspicious, and he’s unsure why.

“Jimin, you told me you would never breathe a word of what I am to anyone…” He looks at her with alarm, shaking his head.

“I didn’t tell anyone anything -- why? What happened?” She examines him for a moment, seeing that Jimin’s as confused as she is. She proceeds with caution, realizing that if Jimin really hadn’t said anything, then this conversation is about to be very uncomfortable.

“I think… Namjoon might know something…” Jimin feels like he can’t breathe then, the air stopping short in his chest as his heart drops out from under him. He swears without thinking, the word slipping out as he processes what she’s saying.

“Fuck… shit… fuck…” Y/n squints at him, unsure of where his mind’s just gone. Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, another swear falling from his lips as guilt overcomes him. He opens his mouth to explain, but he can’t bring himself to look her in the eyes.

“Before I figured out… everything, I would talk to Joon about things that confused me… about you.” He opens his eyes just enough to glance at her before looking away, but he’s surprised that she isn’t fuming with anger. She’s only thinking carefully about his words.

“So, he probably put it together on his own.” She comes to the conclusion as she ponders, offering the reason for Namjoon’s comment to her earlier. Jimin lurches forward, taking her hand in both of his, eyes pleading.

“I swear to you, Y/n, I didn’t say a word of this to him after I figured it out. I completely dropped it, and when he asked me why, I just told him I was respecting your privacy by minding my own business -- I promise, I never said anything--”

“Jimin!” His name cuts through the air, and his mouth snaps shut immediately to give her room to talk. “I’m not mad at you. I’m more worried than anything… I wonder who else knows…”

“Uhm, actually--” The new voice has them both turning to look to the end of the hallway, where Tae’s standing awkwardly in the doorway to the living room. He’s flanked by Jin and Yoongi, Namjoon standing with Jungkook and Hoseok just inside the room.

“--I think we all know…” The blood drains from both Y/n and Jimin’s faces as Jungkook and Hoseok look to each other in alarm. Jin nods, Yoongi smiling awkwardly to confirm what Tae’s saying. The air in the house is cold, no one willing to break the tense silence while Y/n processes what she’s just heard. She meets Jungkook’s eyes then, his gaze betraying the immense fear that he’s feeling, much like the ice running through her veins.

None of them even notice the front door opening behind Jimin, the three Marauders stumbling into the house, disheveled but generally unscathed. They stop short at the scene before them, glancing amongst themselves before James is breaking the silence himself.

“Are we… interrupting something…?”

“Okay, someone start talking before I go insane.” They’re all crowded into the living room meant only for a few people, Y/n and Remus sitting together on a couch in the middle of the room, everyone else taking up the extra seats and floor space. It looks like a club meeting gone horribly wrong, if the discomfort in everyone’s eyes is anything to go by. Y/n looks around after demanding an explanation, finally looking to Namjoon, as he’s the only one she’d been aware of until a few minutes ago. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“After Jimin suddenly stopped all the obsessive theorizing and curiosities, I got suspicious… I had a feeling he’d put everything together, and I was worried that he was getting himself into some kind of trouble because that’s just the kind of nosy Ravenclaw he is. I just put it together myself so I could help him if I needed to…” Jimin grimaces at Namjoon’s words, knowing them to be true but disliking the description all the same.

The glare of irritation Jungkook’s been shooting him doesn’t help, but Hoseok pulls the Gryffindor’s attention away with a bump of his knee against Jungkook’s thigh. When Jungkook drags his burning gaze away from Jimin to look at Hoseok, Jimin’s shocked to see that Hoseok’s simply shaking his head at the Jeon heir, silently telling him to back off. Jimin’s eyes widen then, never having experienced such a sense of stunned relief as he feels in this moment with Hoseok’s quiet support.

Jungkook turns his annoyed gaze over to the spot where Taehyung, Jin, and Yoongi sit. He locks eyes with his roommate of six years.

“Tae?” The boy in question looks down at his hands sheepishly, glancing at Y/n in a way that seems almost apologetic. When he lifts his head, he speaks directly to her, feeling that his explanation should be for her and her alone.

“Jimin’s my best friend… it would be weird if I wasn’t worried about him with him acting so strange. I didn’t really figure it out until the beginning of the summer, when I started spending more time with you -- I noticed how sick you’d get around the same time each month, and you’d always look so tired afterwards. I know we don’t know each other as well as Jimin knows you, but I was worried about you, so I… did my own digging and put the pieces together. It also explained a lot about all the times Jungkook would run out of our room in a panic in the middle of the night. There were just… a lot of things that made sense once I’d started to think about it.” Y/n keeps her eyes on him, trying to process the guilt in his eyes and wondering why he sounds so upset. “I know that you’re probably terrified of us knowing, but I promise I was just worried about you. I’m sorry I was snooping in your life…”

Y/n sees then that Taehyung feels the same kind of responsibility that Jimin had always carried in his eyes -- one of fear that his actions would bring her harm. He’d been sitting with that for the whole summer, quietly trying his best to keep her safe by pretending he knew nothing at all. She opens her mouth to tell him that he has nothing to feel bad about, but Jin’s clearing his throat.

“I, uh-- we--” He gestures to the space between himself and Yoongi, whose gaze is one of cautious observation as the conversation goes on around him. “We… were on our way back to Yoongi’s room and overheard you and Hoseok talking -- something about Jimin finding out… Hoseok was really upset, and he was kind of yelling. We didn’t mean to eavesdrop -- it’s just that we were right outside, and you were trying to calm him down, and he was just saying a lot of stuff that was confusing and weird, but it was obvious what was going on.” Jin glances over at Yoongi as if to confirm his story, and the Slytherin only nods. He turns back to Y/n, finishing his explanation. “We found out together--”

“Actually--” Everyone’s attention turns to Yoongi, who shifts uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes. He clears his throat, scratching at his neck while he finds his words. “Actually… I already knew by then. I think, based on what everyone’s been saying, that I probably knew before any of them…” He trails off, leaving the group to devolve into strained chaos.

“Wait, you knew?”

“How long have you known?!”

“When did you find out?” Ignoring the barrage of questions, Yoongi only looks to Hoseok, whose eyes tell how shocked he is. Flicking his gaze to Y/n, Yoongi continues.

“Do you remember when we first met? That night in the Hospital Wing -- it was before winter break.” Y/n’s jaw drops as her memories fly all the way back to December -- almost a year prior. “I went to visit you, originally because Hobi had mentioned something about going to visit a friend and I was looking for an excuse to see him.” Hoseok laughs under his breath, still stunned into disbelief about the situation, but Yoongi hasn’t stopped talking, almost rambling now.

“I had just found out that you guys were even friends -- it was really weird for me to think about, you know? Until then, he’d only ever been friends with Slytherins, and even then he seemed hesitant about getting close to them. I mean, I get it, that’s how I was, too. But to find out that my roommate since first year had a secret friend group with people that made no sense for him to know -- I was curious about you. I wanted to see what you were like. Especially because Jimin was, like, obsessed with you -- sorry, Jimin.” The Ravenclaw grimaces again, hating that he’s been described only as obsessive but knowing that that’s exactly what he’d been like.

“So… what does that have to do with finding out about me? How did you know?” Y/n leans forward, elbows on her knees as she looks intently at Yoongi. He sighs in response.

“Look. My entire life, I’ve been trying to separate myself from my name. My parents are objectively fucking insane, and I want nothing to do with them, especially now that they pulled that bullshit with the World Cup reservation. I can’t be like them, okay? I would rather die fighting on the right side of this war than ever pledge my allegiance to that nose-less freak. But that doesn’t change the fact that I still live at the Min Estate. And the Min Estate -- it’s like a beacon for the wicked and evil. I’ve seen every kind of creature walk through the doors of my house whenever my parents hold their Death Eater meetings. It’s like a monthly book club, but for murder. So I know what werewolves are like. I know the signs and the symptoms, and I know how cruel and vicious they can be.”

Y/n breaks her gaze then, staring down at her feet as he confirms every fear that she’s ever felt -- that she would be seen as a monster, an evil beast with only the instinct to kill. All the same, it hurts to hear him say it out loud.

“And that’s why I knew you were nothing like them.” Y/n’s head whips up, and she sees that Yoongi’s focused on conveying to her with his eyes that he means what he’s said. He doesn’t see the affection that fills Hoseok’s gaze, replacing the icy fear he’d been feeling the entire time Yoongi’s been talking.

“You’re nothing like them, Y/n. You’re kind and considerate, and you’re so shy around new people that even I’m in pain just watching you struggle to talk. You’re really fucking weird, and your sense of humor has been shaped by growing up with a crazy ass Gryffindor brother and this sarcastic asshole--” He points then to his boyfriend, finally feeling confident enough to look Hoseok in the eye as he cracks the joke before returning his attention to Y/n.

“So, yes, you’re a werewolf. But you’ve got nothing to worry about with me. Or any of us, to be honest.” The rest of the group nods then, and Y/n feels the air returning to her lungs after so long of holding her breath. It’s only when she looks to Remus, who still seems unsure, that she remembers how complicated their situation is.

“I appreciate that, I really do. You guys have no idea how scared I was that you’d find out… but it’s not as simple as you think -- not that any of this has been simple to begin with. It’s just… more complicated--”

“So, are we talking about Remus, or something else?” Taehyung speaks up, looking genuinely confused about what she’s alluding to. James and Sirius tense where they sit on either side of Remus, whose gaze has just become very guarded.

“I’m not sure what you mean--”

“The ‘you being a werewolf’ thing? Yeah, that wasn’t hard to figure out once I knew what to look for in Y/n.” It’s Jin who cuts him off, Yoongi and Namjoon nodding along. Jungkook throws his hands in the air, flopping back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.

“Just how bad are we at keeping things a secret around here?!” Remus groans in response, but James and Sirius seem to be taking the news in stride.

“Look on the bright side, Moony -- now we have an army of hooligans to keep you guys safe!” Remus rolls his eyes in irritation before looking to Y/n for help. She stares down at her hands, feeling more exhausted than she’s ever felt in her life -- and she experiences monthly painful transformations that leave her bedridden for days after.

“This isn’t a joke, James.” The Potter boy snaps his mouth shut when, for the first time since meeting her, Y/n’s voice carries an edge when she addresses him. “The number of people that are in danger now because of what we are has just doubled. And now there are muggleborns involved -- what’s going to happen if anyone gets wind that they know something about us? With what the Ministry’s just released… it’s too much. This is all too much.” Namjoon hums then, pulling Y/n out of the dangerously dark mental dive she was just about to take.

“I mean, we’re involved in this war whether we know about you guys or not. We’re already fighting for our lives -- what difference does it make if we know what you are? If anything, it gives us a reason to fight harder.” He gestures among all of them, all eleven of them in that room.

“We’re all we have left in this war -- why wouldn’t we do everything it takes to keep each other safe?”

#bts au #bts smau #bts social media au #bts hogwarts au #jimin x reader #park jimin

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 9

Masterlist

As always thank you to my beautiful bestie @acollectionofficsandshit you can also thank her for all the Max content in this chapter. Its a long one, enjoy!

Word Count: 9.6k

Recommended song: “Hate the way” by G-Easy and blackbear

The one thing that never failed to lift your spirits was your dad's homemade blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. Whenever you were upset as a kid, whether it be your team losing a sporting event, your high-school boyfriend dumping you for the head cheerleader, or getting rejected from an ivy league college you never expected to get into in the first place, his pancakes had been there to cushion the fall. Clever as he was, he always messed them up in some insignificant way like leaving off the whipped cream and hiding the container so you were forced to talk to him in order to remedy it. Then he would crack some stupid joke or cheesy pun that would just barely have the ghost of a smile curling your lips.

Blueberry chocolate chip pancakes were no match for the heartbreak of losing your best friend.

The morning after, you only trudge to the kitchen when your stomach's demands to be fed become too loud to ignore. A steaming pile of fluffy pancakes sits at your usual spot, no syrup in sight. You don't have the energy to find your dad and ask where he's hidden it, instead picking at them. You knew the flavor should be fruity and sweet but every bite tastes like ash. One pancake is all you can manage before nausea roils, threatening to make your meager brunch resurface.

"Some is better than none," Ben murmurs behind you and you drop your chin in the barest of nods. "We can save the rest and you can warm them up later."

"Thanks," you mumble when he takes your plate. You pull your blanket tight around your shoulders as your gaze turns to the window while your brother washes your dishes, wishing for all the world that you could make your uncooperative limbs move and help him but the mental effort it requires is too taxing. Instead you stay curled up on the chair, the noises of the house waking up around you a dull buzz in your ears. At some point your mother kisses your head and hustles out the door to work, her husband close behind. Ben is the last to leave and is reluctant to do so.

"Promise you'll text me if you need me," he says. "Mom already gave me permission to cut class after trigonometry."

"Sure." You both know it's a lie and a bad one at that. Your voice is dull and flat, completely void of emotion.

"Mom said she's coming home early anyway,” he tries. “Something about overstaffing at the greenhouse."

"Okay."

The mechanical spooling of the garage door tells you he's finally gone. Your elbows slide forward until your head rests on the table, unable to hold it up any longer.

Every fiber of your being yearns for him, to hear the distinct r's and flowery lilt of his accent as he comforts you through the heartbreak, always knowing exactly what to say. It was second nature to call one another when either of you had had a bad day or a good day or just a normal day - you'd talked so often that last year you had convinced your parents to add international minutes to your phone plan.

Your fingers itch to dial the number you had long since memorized, knowing it would ring no more than twice before he picked up. He never let it go to voicemail unless he absolutely couldn't avoid it and you had a hunch he was waiting for your call.

Despite knowing better, you scroll through the messages on your phone. Love was evident in each witty remark and wish goodnight, pulling at your heartstrings. Your finger hovers over the delete conversation button, and after a minute of debate, you can't bring yourself to do it. You would allow yourself one reprieve to look back on and remember the good.

It would be so much easier if he had given you a reason to hate him. If he'd cheated or intentionally led the media to your house, hating him would be easy. You wouldn't have to admit that you still loved him because his betrayal would have yanked out the newly blooming bud of love you nurtured and crushed the fragile petals. Instead, you were left knowing that it had been your choice to inflict damage in him. You had no right to seek comfort in his arms or even ask how he was doing. You deserved to be miserable for causing him to feel the same way.

Yuki is the first to check in on you. You don’t know what he expects; you lie through your teeth when you tell him you were fine.

The press is asking me for my thoughts. No idea why. I told them not to stick their noses where they don't belong.

At least someone had the guts to stand up to those bloodsuckers. Yuki was the last person you'd suspect to do so, but the scrappy twenty-something continued to surprise you.

Thanks, you type back. How is he?

You hesitate. You didn't really want to know the answer. Pierre was devastated and just as broken as you are. You delete the last part and opt to refrain from subjecting yourself to biting off more than you could chew.

I'm here if you need me, is Yuki's reply.

Charles, Daniel, and his newly promoted girlfriend were the next ones to text you, all offering varying degrees of support. Daniel's friend was the one that offered to sucker punch anyone that came near you without your permission, and actually dragged a single huff of laughter from your aching lungs.

I'm good thanks. But if I need a bodyguard you'll be first on the list.

Just because Daniel can lift me with one arm doesn't mean I'm not punchy!

I believe you.

Spent, you set your phone down and retreat under the down comforter. The bright pink clashed with your earthy decor, but at least the old blanket didn't smell like Pierre. Your mother had taken it upon herself to erase all trace of him from your room when she had managed to coax you into a shower, and the half hour you had spent letting the scalding water run over your skin had given her plenty of time to do so. The absence of him hurts almost as much as the trace of cedar you know you're imagining when you breathe deep.

It has to be impossible for so much agony to be contained in your body. No matter how much you try, the tears won't stop flowing because Pierre's crushed expression had taken up residence at the forefront of your consciousness.

It didn't help that so many of your recent memories were touched by his presence. Getting into university served to remind you of the ecstatic call you'd gotten after his race that Sunday, voice strained with a mix of excitement for you and the disappointment of his race ending crash on the opening lap. Even something as simple as staring at the saggy bean bag chair in the corner brought back the memory of the countless times he had lounged there, sprawled out like he owned it.

Max's text brings you briefly back to reality.

You doing okay? Dan told me what happened.

No, was all you say back. Within a minute, Max's face occupies your screen. You sigh but accept the call, laying the phone on the pillow.

"I don't feel like talking, Max."

"That bad huh?" He asks, concern lacing his usually chipper voice.

"Yeah. That bad." As if that summed up getting your heart torn to shreds.

He's uncharacteristically quiet for a beat. "Wanna hear about Vic's day? She had some crazy clients at her salon- it'll take your mind off it."

"I guess," you say, utterly nonplussed. You could care less if he kept talking or not, you wouldn't be paying attention. He prattles on for a few minutes, seemingly unaffected by your silence as his words pass through one ear and out the other.

"Told you it was crazy," he says finally, your cue to respond. You hum noncommittally and Max just sighs.

"Look, I don't know how I can help you unless you come here. I know you have a flight booked- do you still wanna come to the gala? My date's been stolen so I'm in need of one."

"Who stole your-"

The realization hits you before you can finish. Pierre. Pierre stole Max's sister and left him without a date. Something about his willingness to replace you so quickly rubs you the wrong way. It shouldn't have been so easy for him to find someone new; he should be hurting just as much as you. Fundamentally, you knew nothing would happen between Pierre and Victoria. She wouldn't go for him out of respect for both of you and you were thankful in the knowledge that it was completely platonic. Still, it was like rubbing salt in a wound.

"You know what? I'll go." It was the most you'd said all day, your throat scratchy with disuse. Max whoops on the other line and you could almost see him punching the air in victory.

"Great! When's your flight get in? I'll bring the Acura and pick you up."

You put him on speaker and login to the airlines website to punch in the flight number. Last night you'd debated canceling the flight that Pierre had paid for, determined to stay home and be miserable. Looking back you were glad you'd trusted your gut and left the reservation untouched. If he could find someone else to attend the gala with, so could you. "I land in Nice at noon on Friday. It'll be a short flight, I can text you when we take off."

"Sounds good. I'll set up the spare room for you. Victoria is staying here too, I'm sure she would love to help you get ready and do whatever it is girls do before fancy events."

"Hey, Max?"

"Whats up?"

You trace patterns through the condensation left by the glass on your nightstand. "Thank you. For understanding."

"That's what friends are for," he assures you. "Is there anything you wanna talk about now? Or are you planning to wait until you're here?"

"Ben's been keeping an eye on me. I'm okay for now." Better now that you had something to look forward to.

"All you have to do is call," he promises. "I'll listen, I don't have anything going on this week besides streaming."

You latch on to the small redirection and run with it. "You and the twitch quartet?"

"They've been kind enough to allow me to join them on the sim this week, yeah."

"I'll try to catch a race. No promises though."

"See you Friday. Try to contain your excitement."

Your lips twitch upward. "Bye Max."

**********

The rest of the week was more of the same. You stayed home and your family dealt with the swarms of people that still gathered on the lawn each morning not so patiently waiting for you to tell your side of the story. You had decided that the best course of action was to keep your mouth shut and let them figure out for themselves that there was no longer a story to report thanks to the wedge they had driven in your relationship.

By the time Ben drives you to the airport Friday the buzz has died down. You hug your brother tight before checking in for the flight and texting Max. His response is immediate, letting you know he's excited to see you.

You wish you could return the sentiment. You wanted to see your friend, sure, but you were beginning to dread the upcoming gala. Max would be your crutch and you knew he was okay with that, but it still felt wrong.

Unlike your brother, Max was waiting at the curb when you arrived in Nice. A nondescript cap was perched on his head, the oversized sunglasses he wore hiding his eyes from passersby. His gleaming orange peel of a car attracted more attention than he did for once, people stopping to ogle the Acura as they came and went.

"Hey you," Max greets, a broad grin causing his trademark dimple to appear as he wraps you in a rare hug. You cling to him, throat going tight at the intimacy of it. Max wasn't a physical person by any stretch; if he was hugging you this tightly it meant he knew how broken you were.

He waited for you to break contact first, giving you all the time you need. You sniff and wipe the single tear that had somehow escaped and laugh lightly.

"Hey," you say, voice scratchy. "Thanks for picking me up."

He waves a hand, brushing it off. "Vic wanted to come but she changed her mind when I told her I was driving."

"Probably a smart choice," you observe, letting him pop the trunk- which was in the front of the car, since the Acura NSX was a mid-engined beast of a Japanese supercar- "and considering your choice of car, she wouldn't have fit anyway."

"This is true." He starts the engine, the roar of which makes a poor old woman a few yards away drop her purse.

The drive back is near silent, broken only by Max's occasional quips about a landmark or an observation about someone's driving. It was impossible for any driver to turn off the analytical part of their brain, their Formula 1 habits crossing into their daily lives.

When Max parks at the curb outside his apartment, you move to open the door but he hits the lock button. You glance over your shoulder at him and quirk a brow.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Are you gonna talk about what happened?"

Sighing, you sink back into the seat. The way the bolstering hugs your sides almost makes you believe you could fade into it if you try hard enough. "I wasn't really planning on it."

It had only been a handful of days since you had broken it off, the wound still leaking fresh blood when you poked at it. It refused to scab over or give you any kind of reprieve from the torture.

"You know you'll have to face him tomorrow at some point. He'll want to talk to you."

"That's why I'm going with you. You won't have a problem telling him to leave me alone."

Max sighs. "Yeah, I suppose. If that's what you think is best."

The trudge up the stairs and subsequent silent elevator ride allows your thoughts to wander to Victoria. It wasn't her fault that Pierre had asked her to come with him after you'd canceled, after all she was already planning on going and the late notice meant it was likely no one else could make it, but it didn't stop the pang of jealousy that rocketed through you each time you ruminate on it.

It didn't help when she wrapped you in a hug the moment she saw you and whispered an apology in your ear, like she knew she'd done something wrong. Tears spring to your eyes again and Victoria shoots Max a leave us alone look.

"Uh, I'm gonna hop on the sim. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge if you're hungry."

"Thanks Max." Your eyes are pinned to a smudge of dirt on the wood floor, safely out of range of anything triggering. Keeping it together was more of a struggle than you'd expected.

"I hope you don't hate me," Victoria starts genuine concern lacing the words. "It was just easiest-"

"I know," you cut in. "And I don't." Your smile is tight, not quite hitting home as she returns it.

"Well then. Let's figure out how we're gonna do your hair tomorrow, shall we?"

**********

The dress was a single, simple piece of fabric, spun of sunset orange and free of any bells or whistles. The feather light chiffon hugged every supple curve through your hips until flaring out slightly at the bottom just enough to allow you range of motion. The deep vee of the neckline prominently displayed your cleavage, toeing the line between attention grabbing and scandal starting and leaving little to the imagination. The back dropped low, leaving the elegant curve of your spine free to be kissed by the salty Mediterranean breeze.

The dress is nothing special compared to the thousand dollar pieces that the other boy's dates would be wearing, but you didn't have the money- or the will- to find something new. It by no means broke the bank when you picked it up from the second hand store last year, but it looked the part. It had been a showstopper at the spring formal you'd originally worn it to and judging by Max's reaction, it still was.

He let out a low whistle when you stepped into the living room. "I'm sorry, did you pick that out with me in mind?" He laughs and despite yourself, heat rises to your cheeks. You hated being the center of attention, even among friends. "It's the perfect shade of orange to match my tie. I swear I didn't plan it that way!"

"I know you didn't." You give him a forced smile, praying he doesn't call you out on it. The dress you wore hadn't been your first choice. The one you originally planned to wear still sat in your closet at home collecting dust. It had been the perfect shade of blue to compliment Pierre's sky eyes, but it didn't match Max's deeper ocean blue. So at home it had stayed, and you had chosen the orange one because it made the necklace at your throat pop.

Your fingers engulf the stone before you can stop yourself, as they always do when your thoughts wander to him. Him, because you could scarcely think his name before your heart wretches at the reminder of what you'd lost. Flashes of bright smiles and soft kisses filter through your mind, making you lock up. You swear you can feel the ghost of plush lips to your throat and the scrape of callouses over the curve of your spine. Your eyes fall shut, desperate to get lost in the idea of him like you used to.

"You good?"

Max's quiet words startle you back into the present. No, you were in no way shape or form good, but you had no choice to fall back on the familiar mask of humor to cover up your inner turmoil.

"The real question is are you?" You smirk and look him over. The Red Bull navy suit strains over his broad shoulders, suggesting he had put on muscle since the last time he'd been forced into it. "You look stiff as a board in that tux."

"I feel so awkward." He straightens the suit coat and absentmindedly lifts a hand to tousle his hair. You grab his wrist just in time to keep him from ruining his sister's hard work and shoot him a chiding look. He grins sheepishly and lowers his hand.

"Vic would kill me if you got to the gala looking like you got run over."

"That's a good point." He offers you his arm and you accept the lifeline he unwittingly offers you. "But I refuse to leave the windows up on this beautiful night, so we'll test how well it'll hold."

You quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're driving us there?"

"Well duh. I always drive when I'm at home."

You glance sidelong at the glaringly orange Acura parked at the curb a few floors below. Your dress would blend right in with the paint, but perhaps that was a good thing. It would provide that much more of a shock factor when you arrived and stepped out.

"Just don't crash out on the hairpin," you tease half heartedly.

He rolls his eyes. "At least it's just the two of us so I don't have to call an uber. Vic's getting picked up by-'' Max cuts himself off and gives you an apologetic smile.

"You can say his name," you whisper, eyes trained on the tile of the hallway as you walk. "It's not like he's gone."

"Getting picked up by... Pierre," Max tries, carefully monitoring his neutral tone. God, you thought you could handle it but you can't, stumbling over your own feet with only Max's grip on your arm to catch you.

He'd dance with Vic tonight, and probably countless other women, his hands drifting over their bodies like they'd done on yours only days ago. You'd be forced to watch from the sidelines and make small talk that no one would remember come morning, utterly unable to do anything about it. At least Daniel’s girlfriend would be there to be the voice of reason, if you could peel her away from Daniel long enough to speak with her for any length of time.

Max was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride to the venue, leaving you to study the city as he drove. Few yachts were left in the harbor as the sun was swallowed by the sea, the owners undoubtedly set sail for a weekend getaway. Your gaze involuntarily searched for the slip that held Charles' Ferrari red speedboat that you'd visited countless times with Pierre. The eyesore was hard to miss when surrounded by its monotone brethren, memories flooding back in droves at the sight of it.

Sighing, you turn away to glimpse what you can of the city through the ridiculously tiny sliver of windshield. How anyone could confidently drive the Acura while having so little field of vision was beyond you. It was probably second nature to Max, who weaves through the narrow streets with practiced ease and barely lets off the gas through the corners.

The city of Monaco rarely slept, and tonight was no different. Soft yellow fluorescent glow seeps from high rise balconies, the occupants soaking up the last dregs of sunlight before heading out to the casinos and clubs. People spilled out of cafes onto the sidewalks, their laughter lingering on the breeze as you speed past.

The list of people you trust enough to get in the car with and let them drive with such intensity is short: Max and Pierre. Not even Daniel made the final cut, not when his then not-girlfriend had recounted the tale of him losing the rear of his McLaren 570s at a track day and nearly sending them into the wall. According to her, he'd been too busy ogling her to keep his full attention on the road, but it was enough for you to question his judgement at times.

If you close your eyes, you could pretend it was someone else next to you, cutting through the gears like a hot knife through butter and coaxing every inch of performance out of the car that he could with the light traffic. You draw a surf-scented breath deep, lungs aching with the effort.

Max joins the queue of cars waiting to park outside the venue, your attention trained on the guests stepping out of cars and climbing the wide set of marble steps leading to the sleek glass building. The modern structure is slightly out of place among the Roman-esque buildings surrounding it but the air of importance it exudes overrules any who dare say it doesn't belong.

"I can't tell you how glad I am that there's an open bar," Max remarks, hanging his head out the window to wave at someone. "It makes these events so much easier."

"You're telling me," you mumble, searching involuntarily for a familiar head of dusty blond hair in the droves of people arriving. Instead of sight, it's the unforgettable rumble of his Civic Type R's exhaust that alerts you to his arrival. Your head whips around, eyes eating up the pearl white paint of Pierre's favored car as it slides in behind you. You silently thank whatever deity is listening that his windshield is tinted, protecting you from seeing the smirk you are certain is playing on his lips.

Once upon a time, the cockpit of that car had been your favorite place in the world. You'd spent countless hours inside it eating shitty gas station cuisine and singing along to the radio at the top of your lungs as Pierre drove you to whatever adventure he had planned for the day.

Max waves at your- his friend, you remind yourself sharply- and revs his Acura in response. He leaves the keys with the valet, picking up on the tension in your shoulders as the white car parks behind you. Max tugs your arm in attempt to turn you away, but your feet are rooted to the spot.

“I see you found another date-” The flash of a grin on Pierre's face as he steps out is immediately dashed when he notices you on Max's arm.

If looks could kill, Max would keel over then and there. A muscle in Pierre's jaw flutters as he takes in the sight of the two of you together, your hand on the Dutchman's forearm and your matching attire looking for all the world as if it was purposefully coordinated.

Max lifts his chin, spine going straight under Pierre's threatening glare. “Her airfare was already paid for and she already had the dress. Someone had to take her.”

Your stomach sinks; the last thing you wanted to do was become a point of contention between the two boys, but you refused to apologize for at least attempting to enjoy yourself.

Pierre doesn't speak again, only nods to Max and pointedly avoids your stare. He tosses the keys to the smart-dressed kid serving as his valet, coming around to open Victoria's door. With his back turned to you, you take a moment to study the crisp white suit he's chosen for tonight. You had always told him black wasn't his color and he seemed to have taken it to heart. White was what you loved seeing him in, and the tight cut brought back memories of a different type of suit in an entirely different city only a few weeks ago. You'd peeled him out of that Alpha Tauri race suit the moment he made it to the trailer, eager to worship him after his podium. You'd be lying if you said it hasn't been the best sex of your life.

"Come on," Max urges, placing a chaste hand on your upper back and turning you around. He leads you up the stairs, his comforting touch never leaving your skin for a moment. The callouses were all wrong, the fingers too broad to be who you wanted it to be, and yet you couldn't help but imagine it was Pierre leading you up, stopping to smile for the few cameras scattered around.

Flashes spot your vision as you pull your face into an expression of excitement. Max murmurs something in your ear that you think is encouragement but the din of reporters is too deafening to be sure.

"How come you aren't with Pierre?"

The shouted question comes from an unknown assailant but it strikes you like a physical blow. You freeze, mouth going dry as you search for a suitable excuse. Max grants you the space of a single heartbeat to respond before he does so on your behalf.

"How about you mind your own damn business and worry about your cheating wife?"

The man who had bombarded you goes slack jawed, Max's wild guess clearly somehow hitting him just as hard as he had hit you.

"Keep walking," he urges you, leading you through the blinding sea of flashing lights. When you hear the same question directed at Pierre, his flippant laugh grates on your nerves.

You don't have it in you to appreciate the grand architecture of the entrance hall, too busy trying to keep your breathing in check. Max steers you off to the side and places his hands on your shoulders.

"Look at me," he demands, and you drag your eyes up to his face. "Breathe. He's hurting just as bad as you, only difference is he's better at hiding it. Just enjoy the night okay? I'll grab you a drink and we can find Daniel and his friend and you two can catch up."

You nod, placing a hand on your throat. The delicate chain of the necklace is a vice around your neck, the reminder of him pulling it tight. Your pulse hammers beneath your fingers and you focus on it until it slows. "Get me whatever you're having."

Max disappears in the crowd, and you take a seat at the bench tucked in the corner. No one pays you any heed as they walk past, entranced by the elegant decor and fragrant florals. Your head falls forward to rest in your hands and you struggle to take deep, calming breaths.

Pierre was here. Inhale.

He looked happy. Exhale.

He was getting by. Inhale.

You could get by, too. Exhale.

Renewed, you glance up in time to find Max standing before you with a drink of dark liquid adorned with maraschino cherries in each hand. He extends one glass to you and you don't bother to question what it is before swallowing half in one go. "Better?"

"Much." You stand and brush out the wrinkles in your dress. "Where are we sitting?"

"Er, about that," Max starts, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "They put two teams at each table. We're at the Red Bull Alpha Tauri table."

"I see." You take another deep, steadying breath, letting the anxiety ebbing in your veins fade out with the exhale. It was times like this that you channeled Daniel a bit. It sounded silly and you would never admit it, but the slogans on his helmets worked if you focused on them hard enough. All good, all ways.

If Pierre could get through tonight, so could you.

“I can try to see if I can switch tables-”

"It's fine," you say and down the rest of the drink. “I can handle it.”

Max shifts on his feet, his discomfort something you rarely see from him. He usually excelled at keeping a straight face in uncomfortable situations but it seems that your unease rubbed off on him. “We should get going then, dinner will be served any minute.”

You once again take the arm he offers you, the liquor in your veins already granting you false courage. “We would have time to mingle if you hadn’t taken the scenic route.”

“It was nice out,” he protests, and pulls you to a halt when he spots Daniel across the hall. His girlfriend waves at you with a sad smile. She gestures between the two of you to indicate that you’ll talk later before Daniel pulls her towards the McLaren table. That boy was punctual to a fault and would be caught dead before he was late to anything.

Thankfully, the two of you arrive before Victoria and her date and are able to secure seats that ensure there’s a buffer between you. By some small miracle Christian Horner and his wife were absent and instead a few engineers and their significant others sat at the packed table. Max greets Gianpiero while you take your seat, happy to observe.

“Hey!”

You twist in time to see Yuki’s short frame emerge from the crowd and point to the empty seat to your right. “This one taken?”

You shake your head, standing to give him a quick hug. “How are you doing? Where’s your date?”

“Ah, she couldn’t make it. Had some family stuff to take care of. You look great, by the way.”

You dip your chin in thanks, unsure how else to respond. He was in a white suit that you were sure would wind up stained five minutes into dinner. “Did they mandate that you wear white?”

He shakes his head with a rueful smile. “Honestly, it’s the only one I own. I haven't been to enough events to build up my closet yet."

"Well I think it's…"

You spot Pierre before he sees you. His brow is slightly creased as he hunts for the correct table using the same focused determination as when driving his Alpha. For a split second, he meets your gaze. The cacophony of the event fades to background noise and suddenly it's just the two of you and you damn near lift your hand in a wave. You're positive he can see your heart beating out of your chest like in an old cartoon as you curl your fingers into a fist in your lap. Your restraint proves fatal, the floor falling out from beneath your feet when he drops your stare. This was your new normal, you remind yourself. Stolen glances were all you would get.

"I can move," Yuki says, starting to rise. You grip his wrist, holding him in place.

"Please don't." The only other open seats were across the table, and at least then you didn't have to worry about brushing elbows with him all night long.

Yuki nods, slowly settling back in. Max finally takes his seat after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze.

"You don't have to say anything to him," he reminds you, barely audible over the scrape of chairs and various chatter.

You find anywhere else to look as Pierre pulls out Vic's chair for her and makes his rounds to greet everyone. Daniel and his girlfriend are seated a few tables away and you distract yourself by attempting to read their lips. You manage a few minutes of tenuous peace, catching snippets of Daniel's cheesy jokes and her disapproving, yet flirty, responses.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of home. His words are honey and you lap them up like you'd never tasted anything sweeter. They weren't even directed at you and yet somehow you twist them to fit your narrative.

Pierre stands at the bottom of the stairs like a chaste high school prom date patiently waiting for your grand entrance. He checks his watch and rakes a hand through his messy hair. You stifle your laugh with a hand, amused by his unnecessary nervous energy.

Taking mercy on him, you clear your throat. His gaze snaps up to you, mouth falling open. You take your time gathering the orange fabric of your dress and descending the stairs, savoring the way he eats you up. He was resplendent in his crisp white tuxedo and you had half a mind to make him late for the gala and strip him out of it then and there and devour him.

Your heels clack on the marble floor of his entirely too fancy apartment and you pause to do a little spin for him, earning you an appreciative whistle for your trouble. A laugh bubbles out of you and you place your hands on his shoulders. His own settle on your waist to pull you flush against him, his body heat soaking through the thin fabric of your dress to warm your core.

"Damn, we clean up well, huh?"

You start when knuckles graze the back of your bare neck. The touch is there and gone but you know immediately that it's Pierre. It's slight enough to be brushed off as accidental to anyone else, but nothing was accidental with Pierre. The barely there contact conveys more than any words ever could.

He still loved you. You looked stunning. He wishes you were still his so he could prove it to you. All this and so much more contained in a half second brush of his skin to yours.

It all comes back to you in a rush, the emotion you'd so carefully tucked away in a locked box in the back of your mind finally set free. His touch ignites any other thought in your mind that isn't him, burning it away until it's ashes on the wind.

Despite your better judgement, you lean into him, giving him permission to unravel you. This time you sigh when his fingers ghost over your skin, electricity sparking in their wake. You didn't care who might be watching; the tiny touches were slowly repairing your shattered heart. Your traitorous mind replaces his fingers with the brush of his lips to your nape, imagining the heat as he slides the strap of your dress off your shoulder, lips moving to follow.

You bite your lip to stifle a groan when his heat is withdrawn, leaving you feeling inexplicably naked. You open your eyes to find Victoria's pitying stare paired with an apologetic smile. Max nudges you with his elbow, and you realize someone has addressed you.

"Um, what?"

"I said I like how you guys coordinated outfits," Pierre repeats and openly prods your shoulder. "Obviously Max chose the color."

His tone is playful, but his words are clipped in a way only you understand. Craning your neck, you twist to look up at him. His eyes are cloudy and his smile doesn't reach them, more for show than anything else. "It was an accident."

"Doesn't look that way."

Your retort is ready on your tongue but he doesn't give you a chance to reply before retreating to his seat. His ability to act as if nothing has changed astounds you, as your head is still reeling from the pinpricks of his skin on yours. Instead of being rendered speechless, he strikes up a conversation with Yuki about the Alpha's performance, leaving out the confidential details but giving enough away that it surprises you.

The sheer fact that he can so easily switch off whatever feelings he harbors is unfair. The sensation of his fingers on your neck still lingers and it's all you can do to keep from stepping around the table and slotting yourself between his legs like you had in that bar in London. Your nails bite into your palms, listening in if only for his voice to wash over you and calm your racing heart.

When he mentions the rake angle, you know it's just to mislead anyone who might be eavesdropping. He'd told you the exact angle in the past, and it certainly was not one degree, and it did not cause the level of understeer he was describing.

"The understeer comes from improper tire selection," you blurt. "And driver error."

All eyes turn to you and you straighten. You knew enough about the construction of a Formula 1 car to be positive your assessment was correct. You were almost as certain that he'd said it to force you into speaking to him whether you liked it or not.

"What was that?"

If Pierre could torment you with his subtle touches, you could do the same and call him out when he was wrong.

"Driver error caused the rear end to slide out around that turn in Japan, not the rake angle. That's got nothing to do with it. Your tires were blistered because of you taking an imperfect racing line and they were old. You miscalculated the level of traction they'd give you."

Why no one else had pointed it out was beyond you.

"So you're an engineer now?" Pierre challenges, crossing his arms. Something about the arrogance radiating from him rubbed you the wrong way. You let all the emotion of the past few days surface and add fuel to the fire.

"No, but I've learned enough to see through the bullshit drivers spin to mislead other teams."

Max murmurs your name in warning but your frustration is boiling over. He replaced you tonight, didn't even pause to consider going alone and instead choosing to take Victoria. Sure, it had been your fault that he was dateless, but that didn't give him the right to hurt you too. He knew it would destroy you to see him with anyone else even if it was completely platonic, but he did it anyway.

"Why don't you tell me where I should brake on turn ten since you're an expert all of a sudden?" Victoria lays a hand on his arm but he yanks it out of her grip. "What crack in the pavement? Or is it a mark on the barrier? Drive one lap in my car and then you can tell me how to drive."

It wasn't your analysis that had upset him. You'd done so plenty of times and he had always taken your criticism with an open mind, using it to tweak his driving style to improve his lap time or turn it into a teaching experience so you could learn. No, judging by the way his eyes are lined with silver that he fights to blink away, it's your betrayal that upsets him and rightfully so. You glance around the table but no one is willing to meet your eyes save for Max, who angles his head as if to say fight for it.

But you can't. It's monumentally easier to let Pierre win and sweep it under the rug than to address the deeper issue. "I was trying to help," you say lamely, picking at the salad in front of you.

"You don't get to do that anymore."

The venomous words hit like knives, knocking the breath out of you. Your mouth hangs open like a fish gasping for air but any reply you think up dies on your tongue.

As the music fades out and a man climbs up onto the stage, Pierre gets up and leaves. You track his progress as he weaves through tables, noting Daniel reaching for him as he passes. You flinch when the balcony door slams behind him, an astonished murmur rocking through the crowd.

"You should probably talk to him," Max whispers.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You had no idea what you would say. 'Sorry' was insignificant and 'I love you' would be cruel when the barest of thought regarding how the media treated you made your stomach churn.

Max pulls his phone out under the table and you think you see Charles' name on the screen. Good; someone had to make sure Pierre didn't do anything he would regret in the morning and if it wasn't you, Charles was the next best chaperone. A minute later, the Ferrari driver leaves his seat too, exiting the same way as Pierre.

Focusing on what's said on stage proves fruitless. Try as you might, your attention is trained on the side door Pierre had disappeared through, praying he returns despite knowing it would mean more barbed words hurled at you. Neither he nor Charles return at any point during the presentation. His absence was quickly becoming a gaping black hole, swallowing up any semblance of sanity you had managed to gather in preparation for tonight.

"Try to have some fun," Max says, nudging you with an elbow. "As soon as this guy shuts up I’ll get us some more drinks and then we can eat and get out on the dance floor and forget about everything, yeah?"

You nod. You already feel the buzz of the first drink, and one or two more would push you thoroughly over the edge into blissful forgetfulness. "I don't wanna be sad anymore."

**********

He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from you before he said something that would tear whatever hope he held of repairing what was between you to ribbons. He registers Daniel's low, "Gas, you good?" as he breezes past, but doesn't pause to answer. His sights are locked on the wide, carved oak doors that lead to fresh air.

The breath whooshes out of him when he flings open the balcony doors. They slam behind him and he winces. Chalk that up as something else for Helmut to pick him apart for on Monday.

Pierre rakes a trembling hand through his hair and rests his elbows on the railing, sucking in lungfuls of air like he'd just surfaced from a dive in the harbor.

When you'd agreed to come to the gala with him, he had been overjoyed. You hadn't made it to the winter gala earlier this year due to a last minute exam and he had sulked the entire night. He still had the place card embossed with your name in the fishbowl by his door, the sizable container nearly overflowing with memories of you. Everything from forgotten earrings to plastic hotel key cards filled the bowl and it was a bright reminder of your adventures together. His plan had been to add another place card to the mix after tonight but after what he'd just said to you, he'd rather forget today ever happened.

He fucking hurt. Everything just hurt, from the shirt collar scratching at his neck to the bone deep ache that had started when he laid eyes on you on those steps, arm locked with Max's. You'd stolen the words from his mouth, the jab he'd planned to toss at Max dying at the sight of you.

He hadn't expected you to come tonight. Despite anyone's objections, he'd been fully prepared to get completely shit faced to the point that the ghost of your skin no longer haunted his fingertips and your voice no longer sang in his head. But seeing your damned face had shattered the false reality he had constructed, the one where you never broke him and left him scrambling to piece himself back together.

The universe had dealt him another low blow when he discovered Red Bull and Alpha Tauri would be at the same table and he'd be forced to endure your presence at arms length, close enough to touch but absolutely not allowed to do so. It was his own personal hell, constructed solely to punish him for whatever transgressions he'd made in his life.

And that fucking dress.

The orange painted the aquamarine charm at the hollow of your throat in sharp relief, showing it off like he somehow still owned you. If you had arrived with him, he would have already led you back to the Civic and bunched that damned dress up past your hips to drag his favorite sounds from you with his tongue. If he could just get you alone, he's sure it wouldn't take more than a single touch to have you crashing into him and begging for more.

Seeing you with Max tonight paints an entirely different picture.

It's Max he sees tearing off the dress at the end of the night when you get back to his apartment. Max's hands slide over your hips and you laugh, walking back so you can keep your lips on his as he slams the door shut behind you. You dip your head back when he presses you to the wall, Max unfaltering as his lips and teeth trace the curve of your exposed throat and he slips the straps of the matching dress of your shoulders to let it pool at your feet. Max's name breezes past your lips on a shaky exhale as you become putty beneath his fingers.

No matter how loud Pierre calls your name, you don't hear him, instead cupping the back of the Dutchman's head and pulling him in for a heated kiss. When you do finally notice him observing from afar, agony wracking his body, all you do is grin. It feels real, even though Pierre is certain it's a crazed fever dream, his mind spinning his worst fear to life: you seeking comfort in the company of someone that wasn't him.

Pierre starts when the door squeaks open, the nightmare thankfully dissolving. Charles steps out clad head to toe in blazing Ferrari red and instantly he knows who sent him. The thought alone stokes rage in his chest, the image of your lips on Max's still fresh.

"Not as easy as you expected it to be, is it?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Fuck off," Pierre growls and immediately regrets it. Beyond you, Charles was his closest friend. They had known each other for ages. It wasn’t a friendship he was willing to sacrifice just because he felt like shit. Pierre sighs and throws him an apologetic glance. "No it's not."

"Why don't you talk to her?"

"She doesn't want to fucking talk, Charles. Take one look at her, she's hanging on Max like she can't get enough of him." Pierre hangs his head in his hands, emotions shifting faster than he did on race day. "I can't go back in there and watch her choose him over me."

"You don't really believe that bullshit, do you?" Charles asks, joining him at the railing.

Not entirely, but he still struggled to understand your thought process. He thought he knew you, but you being here tonight when he had been certain you wouldn't be proved he didn't.

"I don't know what to believe anymore. I thought it would be forever, that I'd finally found someone who didn't mind my lifestyle and accepted it for what it was, who loved me unconditionally. I thought she was my forever."

"You think she's done with you just because some assholes invaded her privacy?" Charles shakes his head. "She's loved you for a long time, years even. You haven't seen the looks she gives you, but the rest of us have. You hung the moon in her sky, Pierre. That kind of thing doesn't just get swept away by the breeze."

His shoulders curl inward in an attempt to hide the frustrated tear that escapes him. "What am I supposed to do?"

Charles shrugs. "I don't think there's a right answer to that. Try giving her some space. She didn't grow up in the spotlight like we did. It's not an easy adjustment for some people, mate. And blowing up on her when she tries to make conversation doesn't help anything," he says gently. "Let her figure it out and come to you when she's ready."

The concept of letting you go even temporarily was terrifying to him. Waiting on you to make the first move was even worse because he was setting his fate in your hands.

"I miss her," he murmurs, turning his face to his friend.

"I know." Charles throws an arm around the taller man's shoulders and follows his gaze out over the tiered streets of Monaco's city center. "My suggestion is to throw yourself into the season. Show her you know how to fight, y'know?"

Pierre nods. He could do that. It was how he normally handled his problems anyway; let the track wick away whatever was on his mind and force him to hone in on the details surrounding him in each moment.

"You ready to head inside?" Charles asks.

"I don't think I can go back just yet."

"Want me to hang out here with you?"

"No. I'll be back eventually."

Charles' hand falls from his shoulder after a short squeeze, the sound of a tinny voice over the speakers temporarily flooding the balcony as Charles returns to the banquet. Pierre allows himself a few more moments of reprieve before slipping back inside just as the applause starts. Rather than returning to the delicately portioned meal that sat cooling before his empty chair, he orders a drink. Whiskey on the rocks, his go to in times of crisis. He takes one sip before the reminder of you ordering it for him in London makes holding the glass of caramel liquid unbearable and he downs it in a single swallow, going back to order a beer instead.

He nurses the green bottle of Heineken as he leans against the wall until the meal is finished and the chit chat starts. You stand with Max, practically pressed against him as you snatch a flute of champagne from a passing server. You search the crowd, brows drawing together when you don't locate your quarry. Pierre had made sure that he was tucked out of the low lighting, unsure if he could survive you stealing worried glances at him all night.

Charles winds his way over to pass off a roll he snagged from dinner, practically forcing the Frenchman to eat it before returning to his date. He nibbles at it absentmindedly, entirely too focused on you to divert an ounce of focus elsewhere.

Your dress is a glowing sun in a sea of earth tone garments, drawing his eye as you pull Max out onto the wood platform serving as the dance floor before the tables are fully cleared. The flush in your cheeks tells him you're deeper in your cups than you should be; Max didn't know your limit as well as he did. Three drinks was all you could manage before you got tipsy, five if you wanted to be completely blitzed.

The lights dim and his hiding spot is no longer quite as good as the party lights sweep over him from time to time. Max places one hand on your hip and you place one on his shoulder and grin up at him. Judging by the fit of giggles that requires you to lean into Max for support, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of being wholly drunk. You throw your head back and laugh at whatever Max says in response to your fit, Pierre straining to hear the musical sound over the band.

"Hey," Victoria says, breaking his concentration. "You wanna get out there?"

Pierre grimaces. He had managed to completely forget about her, too stuck in his own head. "Sorry, Vic. I don't think I'd be a very good partner tonight."

"No worries," she says, a soft, understanding smile on her lips. "I can keep myself busy."

Pierre nods his thanks, his attention immediately returning to the dance floor. Daniel and his girlfriend steal the show, both laughing as he dips and twirls her across the floor.

Being together was so fucking easy for them, effortless in a way it wasn't for you and Pierre. They never once paid any heed to the photographers that swarmed them or the headlines printed about them, they just laughed the rumors off and carried on. No one could question their love for each other because they were vocal about it- sometimes annoyingly so- and Daniel was rarely seen in public without her at his side. They were always touching, holding hands or stealing kisses or even the near scandal of his hand blatantly on her ass at the podium a few races back, and neither of them cared.

Their love was all that mattered. They didn't care who knew it.

But you and Pierre were far too private to be like that, at least not when you were still trying to figure things out yourself. The first sign of outside pressure had you cracking, and he wouldn't stand for knowing he was the source of your pain.

He tries and fails to convince himself he isn't jealous of the way Dan's hand so easily glides under the navy blue silk of her dress to caress her back without a second thought, wishing he could do the same to you. If he's being honest, he's living vicariously through Daniel for the next few songs, pretending he was someone else observing you and himself on the dance floor instead. It almost works; the way she shudders when his lips graze her ear is strikingly similar to how you'd react. The smile she flashes up at him is agonizingly close to your own wicked grin.

When her mouth finds his, Pierre gathers his wits and turns away. Their blatant public affection flipped a switch inside him, disgust rocking through him for a split second before he pushed it away.

He was happy for them. He knew what a long, rocky road it had been for them to become lovers instead of friends, had firsthand knowledge of the stress they'd gone through before they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other, put their pride aside and got together. Pierre had been the one to offer her advice on a night not much different than this one months ago, helping repair the damage Daniel's idiotic, thoughtless words had caused.

But Pierre had since become the person who was sickened at the sight of others in love. It reminded him that part of himself was missing and he hated it.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes from wandering back to you. You still occasionally scan the room as Max struggles to lead you through a dance. By some stroke of bad luck your gaze snags on him just as a spotlight illuminates his face and he grimaces. A slow blink is the only surprise you let show before laying your head on Max's shoulder. Jealousy spikes through him like wildfire, igniting his blood and tinging his vision with red.

He wants to march over and rip you off Max. He wants you tucked safely against him as his thumb rubs circles on the bare skin of the small of your back. He wants, more than anything, to take you to his apartment and half carry you up the stairs, having to shush you because you're giggling loud enough to wake the dead, and lay you down in his bed. He wants to help you out of that stunning dress and into a pair of his sweats and curl up against you, letting you sleep off your hangover until noon.

He'd fucked up that chance though, hadn't he? He had slipped up and driven you straight into your friend's arms, who he trusted not to make a move on you but not enough to negate the jealousy coursing through him.

In that moment, he hates you. He hates the hold you have on him, the way a simple gesture between half-drunk friends could send him into a spiral so steep he didn't recognize himself. He hates that he can't keep his eyes off you, your gravity too strong for him to resist.

Most of all, he hates that he doesn’t know how to quit you.

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval

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sidespart · 3 years

Note

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough.

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning.

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman.

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder.

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time)

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back.

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound.

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit.

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff.

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE) from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor.

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling: “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly.

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton.

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc, and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue.

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ.

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.

#sanders sides fic #logince #roman sanders #logan sanders #Loceit #Platonic Loceit #janus sanders #SANDERs sides #YEAH THIS ONE ALSO GO AWAY FROM ME #i might write some of these scenes up properly or draw them out #this was fun #fake fic meme #sidespart writes #Anonymous

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mysmegrace · 3 years

Note

hey love, how are you? i was wondering if you could do mc (any gender) and 707 going on a dinner date:)

hello love, i'm excellent (bc of u). of course i can, anything for you :3 i've decided to use they/them pronouns in this fic so it's easier for people to insert their own pronouns and gendered language as well as it being applicable to more people yknow. anyway i hope i did this justice <3

summary: saeyoung and mc got out to dinner to end the day. unbeknown to mc, saeyoung has a surprise to ask you.

words: 1.8k

Elly The Fourth (707 x MC)

---

you knew saeyoung had a tendency of being late, sometimes he’d even push it to the 15-20 minute mark. you vividly remember telling him about it in the past, but you two always came to an agreement. after all, you couldn’t stay mad when he’d grab the cat ears he had laying around, putting them on while puckering his lips to express false innocence.

however, he had failed to hold up your previous agreement of “if you are to be late, let me know beforehand”. passing a new number on the clock every time you looked up, the restaurant continued to populate with no sign of the man you longed for. boy would you let him have it this time.

you needed something new as a form of punishment. something that would make him stick to your agreements. maybe the silent treatment, or perhaps you’d whip him with the belt he spent a ridiculous amount of money on? “wait no... that wouldn’t end well on my end” you thought as your memories reminded you of his sadistic nature.

while trying to come to a consensus, the vermillion haired man entered the establishment. showing off his typical goofy, yet tender, smile as he eyed your sitting position down. you could hear the clicking of his shoes coming closer, but paid no attention as you had heard that the entire evening from strangers surrounding you.

“boo!” you hear suddenly, almost springing out of your seat, partially convinced your heart would jump out of your chest for a split second. however you had no time to take in sudden scare as your body instantly started to heat up. he arrived 25 minutes late and has the audacity to make his grand entrance by frightening you?

being met with silence on his end, he decides to quickly break the tension. “sorry i’m late, it was an accident” he says, only telling half of the truth. it was an accident in the fact that he was late and didn’t intend on being, but wasn’t an accident in the sense that he knew what he was doing beforehand.

however, he would keep that a secret until the time was right. surprises are better if they’re unexpected after all. snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed how your lips haven’t dared to move in the few minutes he’s been here. trying to come up with ways to lighten the mood while getting a response from you, he says “i’m really sorry. please forgive me and talk to me. it was for a good reason, i promise. you’ll find out soon enough”.

watching as your eyes softened and your posture lightened exactly when he was now eye level with you, he takes it as a sign to continue on with the original plan. only hoping your body language was from you being convinced by his words rather than because of your growing disappointment towards him. going to take the seat across from you, you answer “saeyoung, we’ve talked about this. why were you so late?”.

“babe, i can’t tell you yet. it’s a secret, please understand. let’s enjoy what i have planned for now and we can talk about it later, please?” he answered quickly, not giving a moment for him to accidently spill the beans. after a few seconds, he saw the look on your face as you decided to give into his proposal and make amends later.

for the next hour, tonight would strictly be about you two. he loves nothing more. once you give your verbal agreement, he gives back a small smile. one that reads of gratitude. calling the waiter over, you both receive your menus.

the food all looked so good, but it wasn’t something he’d want everyday. that kind of taste isn’t much appealing to him. after all, he only chose the restaurant because of your open wish to eat there one day. hence why in classic saeyoung style, he decided on honey garlic chicken wings. commoner food, as jumin would say. honey garlic chicken wings, honey buddha chips, close enough.

on the contrary, you were in awe at the food selection. as long as you ate a few things off the menu, you could die happy. yet shock consumed you when your eyes glided across to check out the price. it was incredibly expensive. guilt started eating you up by the second.

you couldn’t ask him to get you something, it was simply too much. your conscience wouldn’t let you. unbeknownst to you, saeyoung noticed your sudden distress. he could read you like the back of his hand. “what’s the matter?” he asked.

taken aback, you responded “well.. everythings so expensive.” you had tried to mask your emotions in the moment, but to no avail. you should’ve known better than to think your love wouldn’t have his eyes on you 24/7.

saeyoung could sense that was the issue. you had always been hesistant about spending other peoples money, however that just made him love you more. attempting to calm your worries, he says “don’t worry about it. you know i get paid well”.

you paused, thinking about his statement. “i know, but you should put that money towards savings. after all your work is illegal” you respond, after giving it a half-assed thought. your eyes peered up to find the love of your life smirking, just before replying “pshh, laws are just words on a paper”.

you had to admit, that was a playful thing for him to say. so far he had succeeded in his plans of lightening the mood, it being confirmed when you returned his reply with a giggle. god he loved hearing that giggle.

calling the waiter over again, you two placed your orders. meaning now you both were participating in the waiting game. in saeyoung’s mind, this was a perfect opportunity. he would have at least 20 minutes to explain everything he had been planning to.

so, he starts to go for it. opening by saying “so, about why i was late earlier.” now he had your full attention as you were dying to hear his reasoning so you could decide whether or not an ass whooping would be an acceptable punishment for this evenings occurrence.

“i had booked an appointment to sign some paperwork, but the appointment got moved 30 minutes. i didn’t have a choice but to leave you waiting. and i was too caught up in the moment to let you know beforehand” he continued, giving you a second to take in his words.

yet your mind began racing with questions. what paperwork? why did he need an appointment? why would he plan it for today? you left no time to waste before you let the questions out, not wanting to waste a single second.

perfect, he thought. you were going along with what he had planned out to happen beforehand. giving you your much deserved answers, he continues “well, i needed to do it today so i could give you a proper surprise. i never want you to be in any unnecessary stress, hence why i did everything in advance.”

he left you hanging for no more than a second. he loved being able to see the face you made while you were practically on the edge of your seat. he also loved the dramatic effect, the one he’d never be able to nail unless he were an experience actor. nevertheless, it was fun to try.

so to finish his statement, he lets the secret free, exclaiming “since we both have an undying love for cats, i’ve decided to adopt one. we pick her up tomorrow” giving a genuine, ever so loving, smile at the end of the long awaited sentence.

focused on your end of the table, his heart nearly exploded seeing your face go from suspense to pure joy. he couldn’t ask for anything more. you had began to let out an excited scream, only to contain yourself once the table next to you started to stare. however that didn’t stop you picking yourself up to meet the red head sitting across from you, smiling like a saint.

pulling him into a hug, you whispered “we’re really adopting a cat?” as your lips stood 2 inches away from his ear. his head pulled back from the embrace for a quick moment, only to confirm your statement with a nod of happiness.

standing there in pure bliss, fantasizing about your new life with your fur baby, you found yourself nearing crying from the overwhelming announcement. only to be brought back to reality once the waiter arrived with your meals. you pulled away, only slightly embarrassed, to become your feast.

“i’m glad you’re so excited” saeyoung spoke. god was all too good to him, he thought. you smiled, softly replying “thank you”. your eyes glanced up from your newly delivered meal to find your lover looking no different than a child being delivered delicious ice cream.

“shall we begin our meal then, 606?” he proposed. you nod, picking up the utensil placed to your right. creating the passage way for the two of you to continue your night full of bliss, no more, no less.

as you silently decided against an ass whooping as reasonable punishment.

BONUS: *on the way home*

“saeyoung” you begin, feeling the once scorching sun hit your revealed arm. “do you have a picture of our future daughter?” you ask. after receiving a gentle laugh, your eyes are met with your loves phone. once inspecting the picture, you could feel yourself melt on the spot.

“she’s adorable, isn’t she?” saeyoung asked, taking a notice of the way your eyes lit up like stars at midnight. with an aggressive yet playful nod of confirmation, in the next second he could feel the way your body pushed into his side, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“thank you so much” you let out, barely being heard from muffling yourself in your lovers flesh. although you couldn’t see it, you had a sense of saeyoungs current facial expression.

one full of excitement, love, passion, and warmth. he would treat this cat like his child, you were positive of it. and on the plus side, jumin wouldn’t have to worry about saeyoung trying to get a hold of elizabeth now.

in that moment, almost as if he heard your thoughts, he says “we should name her elizabeth the fourth, elly for short!”. there was the silly, child-like man you loved, you thought.

for the remainder of the late hours, you would be convincing saeyoung not to name her any variation of the name elizabeth the third. you knew for a fact that letting that name slide would result in a lawsuit by the morning.

elly the fourth did sound cute though... perhaps you should propose keeping it as a nickname for times jumin isn’t present.

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3:07 AST - 07/22/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #707 #mysme 707 #707 x mc #luciel choi #saeyoung

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wonderwomanfantasy · 4 years

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Bakusquad and body shots

Bakugou

-mouth shots

-Bakugou doesn’t drink much

-but when he does oh boy

-Bakugou doesn’t know how to do anything in moderation

-he gets absolutely shitfaced

-He is a giggly drunk

-laughs at everything and is way more likely to go along with anything.

-He also becomes way more flirty

-Will tell pretty much everyone he sees that they look hot as fuck

-including Kirishima, who gets the whole thing on video It’s great

-you’re having a great time just walking around watching drunk Bakugou.

- “you want to do shots?” you asked

- “only if I can take it from your mouth,” He was REALLY trashed at this point

-and I mean you’re pretty tipsy too and If Bakugou Katsuki wants you to spit tequila into his mouth you're going to fucking do it

-you throw back the glass but don’t swallow, then Bakugou cups your cheeks and kisses you, hanging your head slightly above his

-you open your mouth and let the alcohol trickle past your lips to his.

-ngl a lot of it spills over his face but not the point

-but it definitely doesn’t end there he pushes his tongue into your mouth and the two of you end up making out at the bar

- “want another Shot?”

Mina

-classic body shots

-Mina is a party girl she definitely knows how to handle her liquor

-so she’s careful not to get drunk but just, buzzed.

-She loves to dance and will pull you onto the dance floor first chance she gets

-she is a loud drunk

-Mina LOVES to sing along to every song that comes on even if she doesn’t know it that well

-TBH she really wants to do body shots whether shes drinking the shot or not

-If you even hint that you are down to do a body shot she will be all over you

-she likes the classic shot, Salt on the neck, lime between your lips, shot glass squished in between your tits

-She lays you down on a table and straddles your hips.

-She makes a big show of it because you KNOW there is a whole ass crowd watching you two.

-She licks your neck and giggles in your ear

-definitely, a tease and will make eye contact with you while she drinks the shot and takes the lime from your mouth.

-She will definitely offer you to do one off her too, I mean It’s only fair right?

Kaminari

-backshots

-you got a pair of sexy dice for your Birthday

-You would say they were to spice up things up in the bedroom but honestly, you thought they were funny as hell

- So you two were messing around with them and drinking a little too much for your own good.

-Kami is an emotional drunk

-he just loves you so much and it really comes out when He’s had too much to drink

-will stare into your eyes fro a couple of minutes then start crying

-you are just so pretty and he loves you so much

-so while you were drinking you weren’t drinking enough to make him start crying

-eventually, the dice tell him to do a shot off your back and honestly, you are just glad it wasn’t out of your ear or something

- you take your shirt off and get on to your hands and knees

-Kaminari laughs and pours something on your back

-you start laughing too because it’s so cold and he licks it up fast so you don’t spill onto the bed sheets

-He’ll probably pour himself another shot, and grab your hips so you can’t move around too much

-this time he’s slow takes his time drinking from the small of your back

-it quickly turns into a game seeing all the places he could use as a shot glass

-It’s a lot of fun even if he is hungover in the morning

Kirishima

-stomach shots

-Kiri is the type to either forget you are his girlfriend and try to hit on you or gets mad at you for hitting on him because he has a girlfriend damn it

-He is a disaster drunk not going to lie.

-He can barely stand upright and WILL start a fight with a street lamp if you let him

-Also, his shirt is definitely gone idk where it went

-it’s probably best to take him home at this point

-on the car ride home, he turns the flirting up to eleven

-will probably even slide his hand up your thigh

-you were planning on just dropping him off

-but he pulls you into his room on the promise of “just one more drink”

- he tosses you onto his bed and starts taking off your clothes for you.

-He’ll mutter something about “having always wanted to try this,”

-then without warning, he pours tequila into your belly button and drinks it

-NGL watching him do it is hot as fuck and damn you had almost forgotten how good he was with his tongue.

-it probably would have gone further but right after that he fell asleep on your chest

-It’s okay tho cus he’s a cutie

Sero

-tit shots

-It was a game of Truth or Dare/ drinking game

-He is a mellow drunk

-he gets very tired might have fallen asleep already once or twice.

-Sero is also very honest when he’s drunk.

-straight up ask him anything and he’ll answer honestly he has no filter

-Mina dared him to do a body shot off you

-that sure as hell woke him up a little bit

-and even though it wasn’t his idea he is so down

-you are also pretty drunk at this point and there is no way in hell you are lying down cus you might not get back up

-you also couldn’t get and lime slices or salt so you stick a shot glass between your tits and call it good enough

-and oh boy is it good enough for Sero

- Highkey a boob man

-you kinda have to squish your boobs together to make the glass stick and the sight of you cupping your own breasts like that really gets him going.

-his noes gets buried in your cleavage as he takes a drink

-he can feel you breathe, hear your heartbeat, feel how warm your skin is

-even though he’s you’re boyfriend he’s never felt this close to you

-it’s probably just the Alcohol making him feel that way

-there are loud whoops and cheers from his friends and their presence is the only thing that makes him get out of your shirt.

-once you two go home he will fall asleep on your chest and stay there

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wingsofthewibbets · 3 years

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Hello I Made A Playlist

It is specifically for the vibes of the Calamity Trio! Also, I feel like contributing to fandom, so I tried to explain why I felt each song gave off the ~Vibe~. Apologies for the length of this monstrosity. It’s on Youtube and Spotify, but there is a song on Youtube I used that was unavailable on Spotify. It’s in no particular order, although maybe I’ll organize it one day.

~‘California Friends’ (The Regrettes)- Generally the fun upbeat vibe of the song, but also these specific lyrics make me think of Anne’s :

I think I love you but then I think

No way!

I gotta go but I wanna stay

Just stay!

I guess I’ll save it for another day, well okay?

As well as:

I get mixed up in my head, you do too

But I don’t forget a thing you’ve said

Well that’s true

I think the lyrics definitely give me more Anne/Marcy vibes, but the music itself makes me think of Sasha getting them into trouble. There’s some big garage band energy here, and it just makes me think of them running around and causing chaos. (also the ‘i gotta go but i wanna stay/just stay’ definitely reminds me of the end of the aquarium episode)

~’The Archer’ (Taylor Swift)- Oh man this song where do I even start?? There is so much?? (I know I’ve already talked about this one, but Imma do it again) I was listening to this song one day and the lyrics hit me so hard as reminding me of all the girls, specifically:

For Anne:

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

‘Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory, but this seriously makes me think of her relationship with Sasha -or the shambles of it anyway oof- and the speeches line just makes me there’s so much that she doesn’t tell her friends about what’s running through her head.

Anne’s an emotional person to be sure, but she’s also a very impulsive one, which means a lot of times, what people get from her is the unedited, unreflected version of her thoughts, which don’t make them any less true, but that also means that she’s probably a little more reticent with the deeper ideals that don’t get unearthed through dramatic moments. She just does things a lot of the time, and when she gets stuck on something, it is kinda obvious from the outside, but she also gets uncomfortable with trying to talk about it, because there is no clear solution she can enact in the moment to resolve it.

For Sasha:

Screaming who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

I see right through me, I see through me

As well as the repetition of ‘they see right through me/can you see right through me’, these lines give me huge Sasha vibes, specifically. I think of them kind of especially applicable to the Reunion episode, but also just how there were a couple scenes where she seemed to be regretting hiding from her friends the toad rebellion that was going to take place in Newtopia, and that conversation Anne and Sasha have in The Third Temple. I don’t think she ever considered regretting the rebellion at all, but I do think she worried over what it might do to her friendships.

The end of Reunion was heartbreaking, for both Anne and Sasha, because if the Plantars had been able to pull both girls up, I think there would have been more opportunity for Sasha and Anne to have a better reconciliation. (i think this about this a lot ngl) And, also because she was willing to die for Anne??? I don’t think that gets discussed enough. That episode has big ‘who could ever leave me’ at the beginning, and then at the end ‘who could stay’ vibes.

For Marcy:

And all of my heroes die alone (OOF)

As well as

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Ahahaha this is the ANGST. So. I mean, obviously the king’s horses part makes me think of the ending of True Colors, and I don’t think that Marcy considers Sasha and Anne to be her enemies by any stretch of the imagination, but I don’t think that Andrias is above manipulating her to think that they think of her that way. (Also the line ‘cause all of my enemies started out friends’ line is very applicable to Anne and Sasha as well, it just happened to be part of the lines that made me think of Marcy) Plus sticking around the king and whatever the heck he has in store for her will definitely not put her back together sooo-

The ‘help me hold onto you’ and the ‘I’ve been the archer/I’ve been the prey’ just apply to all of them (for the former, think Sasha and Anne in Reunion, the way Marcy tried to mediate in The Dinner, and just True Colors in general; for the latter, it makes me think of the sword-fights between Anne and Sasha, as well as how Marcy once believed that Andrias actually cared about her). The ‘Dark side, I search for your dark side/But what if I’m alright, right, right, right here’ make me think of how Anne is going to be reevaluating her friendships with both Sasha and Marcy, as well as how all of them seemed to grow into the Amphibia communities that they landed in and what they are going to struggle with leaving behind.

I had this song on loop for way too long trying to word my feelings out about it.

~’Soldier, Poet, King’ (Oh Hellos)- This song is just so absolutely perfect for the three girls. I’d like to take the time to state that I think Sasha fits soldier, Marcy poet, and Anne king, but what are y’all’s thoughts?

There will come a soldier/Who carries a mighty sword

He will tear your city down

Big Sasha vibes, fits with what’s she done so far in the show, as well as how she’s being set up for the third season to be a hero (whose intentions somewhat align with the consequences of her actions).

There will come a poet/Whose weapon is his word

He will slay you with his tongue

Marcy spends a lot of time journaling, and she even takes the time to learn a dead language! She seems rather skilled with more traditional weaponry, but her biggest boon is her intelligence and her quick-thinking. I also think that if she does end up getting possessed by the Night, its words being spoken by Marcy’s voice is absolutely going to SLAUGHTER Anne and Sasha.

There will come a ruler/Whose brow is laid in thorn

Smeared with oil like David’s boy

Apart from the fact that Anne literally has plants growing from her head in the S2 finale, she is also a charismatic leader who has made connections all over Amphibia. She genuinely cares about the people around her, and takes the time to get to know them and spend time with them. Also, a lot of times, she is underestimated and seen as the David to her opponent’s Goliath- whether that be physically or in skillset.

~’Someone To You’ (The Banners)- No specific lyrics here, but the general vibe of the song. There is a sort of desperation that seems to permeate it, as though if the narrator isn’t someone to the person they are singing to, they will be nobody at all, and I think that is very much how all of the girls view their friendship, at least at first.

Marcy gets the music box thing going because she doesn’t want to be alone; Sasha is desperate to have Anne, and she wants so much for both Anne and Marcy to look up to her as someone who is strong and present. I think for Anne, we kinda see this song in the speech she gives to Sprig in Best Fronds when she’s trying to get him to break the rules with her, but also in how she is open to reconciling with Sasha in The Dinner and giving her a second chance. Mainly, though, what I associate with Anne for this song are the scenes where she reunites with Marcy and Sasha for the first time. The spinning hug she gives Sasha, and how tightly she hugs Marcy with tears in her eyes- she really does love and care about these girls.

They all cling to this friendship so much, in different ways, both healthy and unhealthy, and I think this song really captures that.

~’Lost Girls’ (Lindsey Stirling)- This song is mostly instrumental, so again, no specific lyrics here, but there is a very deep, melancholic feel to this song. It gets kinda fast-paced at some points, and reminds me of the ending of True Colors, with Anne and Sasha and Marcy separated. There is so much space- literal and internal- between all of them now, and I think this song does a really great job of getting Those Feels across. They aren’t just lost to each other, they are also struggling with battles inside of themselves.

But the lyrics that are in this song, (lol I just said I wouldn’t mention them whoops) ‘Lost girls find a way’, are sung, the music played after them that plays remind me that, like Matt Braly said, sometimes things have to be broken to be fixed again. They can find a way. It’s not a happy song to be sure, but there’s a quiet strength and determination in it.

~’Long Live’ (Taylor Swift)- I could cite specific lyrics here, but this song has just always given me epilogue-end-of-the-battle scenes, where we get to see everyone exhausted, but happy and most importantly together. This song is what I’m hoping the future gets to be for Marcy, Anne, and Sasha; happy about their present together, being able to heal despite the past, and accepting that even if they aren’t together forever in the future, that doesn’t mean they weren’t important to one another.

~’Torches’ (Oh Hellos)- ‘Torches’, on the complete opposite hand to ‘Long Live’, kind of represents where the girls are right now with one another.

Despite keeping that old wheel turning, despite laying that next spoke down (yes these are direct lyric references), they are also continuing to make mistakes with one another.

I got a venom like a snake running out of my mouth

(Running out of my mouth, running out of my mouth)

It’s got you burning at the stake

Innocent or not, you’re not a bet I care to take

And, yet, somehow, they keep being led back to one another. They are more alike than they think, and even if they get back to Earth, they will still be bound by the mutual experiences they had on Amphibia, that no one else is likely to ever understand. The ways they misunderstand one another and don’t communicate cleave them apart, but also together, in a way.

And Father Ignorance will make brothers of us all

(Brothers of us all, brothers of us all)

As he sets our torch aflame

Chasing down the flimsy specters that we pro-create

As well as

Mother Fortuna, O, she makes sisters of us all

(Sisters of us all, sisters of us all)

When the faces in her wake

Look more like our own than the effigies that we immolate

~’Castle On The Hill’ (Ed Sheeran)- Purely just the vibes. Nothing super deep, just makes me think of how Anne, Sasha, and Marcy are going to look back on their friendships and their time together.

~’Trouble’ (Valerie Broussard)- Though I will forever associate this song with Six of Crows thanks to a fabulous animatic, I will say that it also makes me think of the darker tone that Season 3 might take on, and how each girl is poised to take on a different problem. I see it as a very Sasha song (especially ‘I’m your Number Two man in a fight/We are revolutionaries tonight’), but all three of them tend to lead a trail of chaos in their wake. (Also the vibes here are impeccable)

~’Time Alive’ (K.C Katalbas)- (not on Spotify, definitely recommend checking it out) This song just has that perfectly nostalgic, yet aspirational feel to it. It is hopeful, yet it it has its own sort of weight. It pairs nicely with ‘Long Live’ and ‘Castle On The Hill’, in a way, I think. It makes me think of what the future could be for the girls, once again, and how even if something is bittersweet, you are still allowed to be hopeful. Mostly, it makes me think of each girl reflecting about one another, and the time they spent together.

And this is your life, every plan has a right to fall

And this is your heart, through the dark it’s the loudest call

And this is breathing

And seeing her go

~’Try’ (The Lightning Thief)- True Color battle against Andrias vibes! And Season 3 vibes! A lot of these lyrics are kind of specific to Annabeth, Percy, and Grover’s characters, but I also think the general feel of this song is very applicable to Anne, Sasha, and Marcy. Particularly, I am reminded of how Sasha and Anne will be feeling about Marcy.

I may fail you

I may fail you, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t try

And

I’m not leaving your side til we find what matters

I’m not leaving your side til we’re back home

I’m not leaving your side til you’re remembered

No matter how far we have to go

As well as probably the guilt that Marcy was feeling during True Colors:

Two thousand four hundred forty eight reasons I have to come along

Wash my hands of past mistakes

As well as

The weight of the world’s on my shoulders

Like Atlas, it’s crushing me down

We’re not brave, we’re not strong, we’re not soldiers

And how could I forget?

L.A doesn’t seem so far away…

~’Drive It Like You Stole It’ (Sing Street)- Again, like ‘Trouble’, but a little softer. If ‘Trouble’ has Sasha vibes, this one makes me think of Anne, but it also has a similar line to ‘Time Alive’- this is your life. For the most part of Amphibia, I think the girls focussed a lot on fitting in and adapting to their surroundings, but I think Season 3 is really going to see them owning who they are and taking it upon themselves to enact change.

It also just makes me think of them messing around and being kids, trying to figure out who they are. It’s like, if they ever make it back to Earth in one piece and stay friends, but still manage to get into shenanigans.

~’What’s Up Danger’ (Blackway, Black Caviar)- local newt king gets mauled by three newly empowered thirteen-year olds

~’How Far We’ve Come’ (Matchbox Twenty)- This one is a classic. No playlist of mine is worth its salt if it doesn’t have this song here. It has the ~vibes~ of pre-last battle energy, and also I can definitely see Sasha and the Sharps playing it at some point.

Alternately, this also makes me think of Anne, Sasha, and Marcy finally going home together or reuniting properly after the end of True Colors. Lots of angst either way.

~’We Are Young’ (fun.)- What I picture with this: Anne, Sasha, and Marcy are not entirely reconciled with one another yet, but it’s the night before the last battle or somethin’, and they still care about one another a lot. This has that energy. They’re just kids, but they’ll be damned if they don’t go out without a fight, and without standing by one another’s sides.

(and marcy found someone(s) to carry her home nanananananana)

Slightly more uplifting(?) than ‘How Far We’ve Come’, but similar energy, I think.

~’Pump It’ (Black Eyed Peas)- three local teenagers get pumped to cause problems on purpose; montage time. I have no justification for this song, only that it has the vibes of Sasha and Anne’s relentless energy and the confidence of Marcy swinging down on a rope she doesn’t know will actually hold her weight.

~’Disaster Hearts’ (I Fight Dragons)- I feel like this song is the definition of Matt’s tweet about how some things have to be broken to be fixed. It has vibes of the aftermath of a battle, and opening the door to reconciliation and forgiveness. Amphibia has tied these girls together, for better or worse, and I think there is room for them to become better friends and mend their relationships.

Disaster has a way of remaking our hearts

Long after all the thunder and scars

Days pass and bit by bit we begin to restart

Our disaster hearts

~’Thus Always To Tyrants’ (Oh Hellos)- It makes me think of where Anne and Sasha are left at the end of Reunion, but also in how Anne wants to find Marcy now that she know she’s definitely out there. The sound of the song gives me huge Marcy vibes, with how it does seem to be almost cheerful? The very last line makes me think a lot about Sasha (‘Learn to love without consuming’), but I think a lot of the song is applicable to all the girls in different situations.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #wow this was really long #amphibia playlist #yes i listen to a lot of taylor swift and oh hellos how did you know #i had the archer on loop for so long while writing that part #what songs do you guys associate with the trio?#one day i will actually put them in a sort of order #i can't believe this is how i spend my time now lol #anne boonchuy #sasha waybright #marcy wu #my brain is only funky frog music now

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