#“i got bitter” sorry that could be either of you

[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.

[novakiart]

🤌 it's about the parallels 🤌

» aka my silly spideypool edit that you can also watch on youtube

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

my little voyeur

neighbour!loganxvoyeur!reader

a/n: so sorry about the hiatus, started university and midterms are already here, crazy. anyway, enjoy this little idea i had, inspired by a real life situation. xox

wc:3.1k

MDNI !!! 18+, AGE GAP, SEXUAL CONTENT, ALCOHOL USE

summary: Y/N is growing needier with every one-night stand her hot neighbour brings over, one night she decides to be his next.

"-Oh fuck, keep going!" A muffled voice cried between the rhythmic thumping noises that came from the ceiling above you.

You bit down on your lip, shifting needily on your sofa. 

"Here we go again" You mumbled to yourself, glancing at the clock on your microwave.

8:37 PM. 

"Earlier than usual... Do you have to be somewhere early tomorrow?" You pressed the mute button on your TV remote to get a better listen.

The intrigue in your neighbour's activity had been a shameful recent development. He'd have company over almost every night now; which meant constant, rough sex.

The shared two-story house was old, and the walls were poorly insulated, which surely didn't aid your newfound obsession. Your unit was the basement suite: a homely one-bedroom, one-bathroom with a large kitchenette and living room. Even though you both lived in the same quarters, you both had your own respective spaces and entrances, which meant you rarely crossed paths. 

You knew little about the man upstairs, only that he lived alone, wasn't the talkative type, and rode a Harley Davidson that was equally as loud as his one-night stands.

Though it was ill-mannered of him to be as careless as he was, you couldn't stop yourself from being attracted to him. He might've had a good twenty years on you, but that didn't matter in this case. 

The man was in phenomenal shape for his age; You had come home one day to him working on his bike, shirtless. His physique was composed of thick broad shoulders that counterbalanced his narrow waist and muscular biceps that bulged beneath his skin, flowing seamlessly into veiny forearms. Dark curls of hair stretched downwards from his brawny chest, over his chiselled abs and disappeared into the denim waistband of his wranglers. 

To pair with that irresistible body, was a charmingly rugged face. Thick, untamed eyebrows cast a shadow over his piercing hazel eyes, while dense sideburns traced the sharp angles of his jawline. His short, spiked hair flared into two distinct tufts on either side of his head, adding to his wild, primal look.

"-Logan! I'm coming!" The voice screamed. Since this all began, you found yourself feeling rather bitter. Not only was it rude and annoying but from what you managed to pick up, most nights they would be playing out the very type of fantasies you'd always had but never got the chance to experience.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling that excitement slowly pool in your lower stomach. You knew this would end soon, Logan seemed to have quite the routine, so your impending neediness wouldn't go any farther. 

His partners were usually dead silent for the rest of the night, presumably busy sleeping off the intense sex, which made the inconvenience somewhat tolerable. The only time they would potentially disturb you again was as they made their exit down the stairs the morning after. You could catch glimpses of them as they passed in front of your kitchen window, usually around the time you'd be having your coffee. 

From the looks of it, he had a type: girls your age. They'd always be dressed in last night's skimpy outfit, with knotted hair, but somehow still looked gorgeous. As they stumble their way to the taxi at the edge of the driveway. You'd observe them closer pressing up the glass, often spiking your jealousy.  

The first few you had laid eyes on made you snicker a jaded"How original."  But you were well used to it by now. 

Logan was your typical walking mid-life crisis; Bringing home adventurous young women, fucking their brains out, sending them away in a yellow chariot and never talking to them again. From the frequency of these one-night stands it looked as if he was trying to satisfy a hunger he couldn't seem to fulfill. Almost like preparing for hibernation.

 He was living the bachelor life that men his age could only dream of having, but there was something about the whole routine that felt...off. It was as if every conquest left him more empty, more distant and detached from everything and everyone around him. It wasn't just women that Logan indulged in, he was also a heavy drinker. You could tell by the recycling bin, always overflowing with liquor bottles, and the fact that the few times you'd been to The Black Lodge—the only bar in small-town Burns, Alaska—you had seen him there

You watched from your bar stool, careful to remain unnoticed. The brief exchanges between him and the bartender made it clear he was a regular—no need for small talk, just an easy, practiced silence. Logan's eyes, however, never lingered on the glass of neat whiskey in front of him. Instead, his gaze swept over the crowd, scanning for his next target, his posture relaxed but predatory. Despite his intimidating exterior, there was something magnetic about the way he worked the room, luring them in with lustful glances. He wasn’t just playing the game—he was built to win.

His trophy shelf was overflowing, yet there was no trace of happiness in Logan’s eyes.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the Logan everyone else saw—rough around the edges, careless, chewing through women and booze as if they were nothing more than fleeting distractions. Or was there something deeper, a hidden tenderness that only emerged behind closed doors? He never had family or friends over, just a revolving door of women. His life seemed lonely, private, and it made you wonder what demons gnawed at him when the nights grew quiet and the distractions faded away.

Was it trauma? 

Regret?

Or just the inevitable realization that his time was running out?

A part of you cared and wanted to be there for him, but it wasn't as simple as ringing his doorbell, he was unapproachable. During the few interactions you shared, he made it unmistakably clear that he had no interest in forming any kind of relationship with you. His responses were dry and curt, laced with a dismissive tone that cut down any hope of connection. Each word felt like a brick wall being built between you. He practically didn't look at you the entire time, keeping his eyes focused everywhere else but on yours. You couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment with every exchange, it was as if he was purposefully keeping you at arm's length.

Through your confusion, you understood why. You weren't what he was interested in, you couldn't contribute to his unfaltering hunger. You were more than happy to not be categorized with what he'd bring home from the bar, but a slight part of you wished that for one night, you would be. 

The selections were slim in Burns and you were newer to the area, which made it impossible to call for a late-night booty call, unlike him. It had been a long time since you'd last been with someone and the constant exposure to Logan's fruitful sex life made you grow needier by the day, which is where your obsession initially formed.

It began with something small, almost too innocent to notice. You found yourself paying closer attention to his everyday routine, drawn by curiosity. You’d glance out the window to check if his motorcycle was parked in the yard, and when you heard the faint sound of his footsteps starting the day, you’d instinctively check the clock taking mental notes of his wake-up times.

Before you knew it, your interest had evolved into something deeper, something far more personal. You began noticing his trash in your shared waste bin; discarded remnants of his life blending into your obsession. At the liquor store, you found yourself buying the same brand of beer he preferred, curious to experience the taste that would linger on his lips if you kissed him. At the supermarket, you began to choose the same detergent, not for practical reasons, but to breathe in the scent that clung to his skin.

There was a day that he left his Johnny Cash shirt outside. He tossed it on the ground carelessly after working up a sweat while fixing something in the yard. When he left, you ran out and took it. As your compulsion grew, so did your need for closeness to him. The shirt became more than just a relic of him—it was a trigger. 

You began wearing it late at night, feeling its used fabric against your skin. While the sounds of him having sex filtered through the thin walls. The rhythmic creaking of his bed upstairs, the faint moans, you’d inhale it deeply, lost in his scent. You'd thrust your fingers deep inside of you, following along with his rhythm, imagining it was him inside you—picturing how Logan would take control, filling you with the intensity you longed for. In those moments, it was as if he belonged to you, even if just in fantasy.

Your cheeks flushed red as you listened along, It was become too much to handle. You unmuted your episode and got up, needing to find some distraction. 

"It’s almost over," you told yourself, trying to ignore the urge to grab his shirt and take care of things right then and there. Instead, you walked over to the unpacked boxes in the corner of your living room, hoping to find a distraction.

As you opened the cardboard, you started sifting through the mismatched stuff crammed inside. Your fingers brushed against something soft and bristly, sparking your curiosity. You tightened your grip and pulled it out for a better look. To your surprise, it was an old wig from a Halloween costume—vivid and wild, a memory you had almost forgotten.

The faint sounds you were trying so hard to ignore managed to slip through anyway, sparking a devilish idea as you twirled the wig in your hands. You were going to get his attention, whether he liked it or not. A mischievous grin spread across your face; this could be your way in. It was time to shake things up and show him a side of you he hadn’t seen yet. 

It was the next day, and you knew for sure that Logan would be at that bar, just like he was every Thursday. You stepped inside, adjusting the wig discreetly, tucking away any hint of your natural colour, determined to become someone new for the night. This was a wild idea, but desperate times called for bold measures. You were dying for some relief and he was the only remedy for this ache you couldn’t shake.

The bar buzzed with energy, a lively crowd which meant you had competition. But tonight, you were set on one thing: going home with him, and anyone else.

You’d dressed the part—skin exposed, tight-fitting clothes that hugged your curves just right, making you feel both powerful and vulnerable at the same time. 

You scanned the bar, your heart racing as you spotted him in his usual seat. The moment you walked in, his eyes locked onto you, holding your attention captive. You averted your gaze and took a shaky breath, your feet guiding you across the room, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pretending not to notice his gaze, you played coy, an enticing smile dancing on your lips. You slid into the seat across from him and reached for the black menu that lay before you, feigning interest in the options. Your eyes traced the words, but your mind was elsewhere—focused on the weight of his stare and the electric tension building between you.

The bartender approached, and you quickly ordered the first thing your eyes landed on, feeling a rush of nerves. You folded the menu neatly, deliberately turning your attention to the crowd, avoiding his gaze, you weren't playing his game, you were playing yours. The thrill of the chase sent a shiver down your spine. The bar chattered around you, laughter and conversation creating a lively backdrop as you focused on maintaining an air of nonchalance, even as you could feel his eyes on you, studying you with that intensity.

A beautiful stemmed glass slid in front of you, snapping your attention to your hands. You mumbled a thankyou and you took a sip, savouring the sweet burn as it slid down your throat. It gave you a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you were about to steal a glance his way, you noticed from your peripheral that he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. That confident look told you he knew exactly what you were doing.

"Nice wig," he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the bar like a knife. The compliment sent a rush of heat to your cheeks, but you kept your expression cool, shooting him a sidelong glance as if you were just as unfazed by him.

“Thanks,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. “Just thought I’d switch things up a bit.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. The game was on, and you were ready to play.

Logan leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It suits you, it's different.”

You felt a thrill at his words, the compliment warming you in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You kept your composure, but inside, your heart raced. “I like keeping things interesting,” you replied, matching his playful tone.

The atmosphere around you shifted slightly, the crowd fading into the background as you locked eyes again. The moment felt charged, filled with unspoken possibilities. You could sense the magnetic pull between you intensifying, and it was exhilarating.

He took a sip of his drink, never breaking eye contact. “Well, you're doing a good job of doing that."

You smiled, feeling a rush of confidence. “It's just a little bit of fun for a Thursday night. What about you? Same old routine, I bet?”

His smirk widened a glint of challenge in his eyes. “You could say that. But maybe I’m looking for something different tonight.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. This was the moment you’d been waiting for. You leaned forward, pushing your breasts together. “Well, that's hard to imagine. What’s your idea of different?”

 Logan’s eyes dropped to your cleavage. “How about we take this conversation somewhere a little more private?” His voice was low, rich with promise, and it sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning casualness even as your heart raced. "And where would that be?”

He chuckled softly, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “How about the upstairs at your place?”

The two of you made your way up the narrow staircase, the familiar creak of the wooden steps echoed in the silence. You could feel the heat radiating off him, each step heightening the anticipation of what was to come. You both reached his door, and his keys jingled as he unlocked it.

The door swung open, and you stepped inside as he held the door open for you. The soft light from his living room illuminated the space, casting warm shadows that danced along the walls. The place was surprisingly tidy, with the scent of cedar and booze lingering in the air.

Logan followed you in, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click that sent a thrill down your spine. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You didn't know what you expected but it wasn't this. You took in the details of his space—artwork hung at odd angles, a well-worn couch sat invitingly in the center, and an empty whiskey glass perched on the coffee table. It was comfortable, lived-in, and spoke to the kind of man he was.

“Nice place,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your pulse quickened as you caught the intensity of his gaze. A beat passed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, a hint of seriousness threading through his playful tone.

Your heart raced at the implication of his question. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” you replied biting your lip,  voice steady from a boldness surging through you.

Logan smirked, his expression shifting from playful to something more primal and dark. 

“Good. Because I don’t plan on holding back. Gotta teach you a lesson after all,”

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, backing you against the wall with a firm press of his body. The warmth of him enveloped you, and you felt your breath hitch as he leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours. As he grabbed your face, his calloused fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, parting your lips open.

“I know you took my shirt, you fucking freak,” he murmured, his voice thick and husky.

You were unable to form words as you felt the threat of what was to come flood your senses. Your heartbeat stammered in your rib cage, fear overcoming you but there was a thrilling undercurrent of excitement that was hard to ignore. Logan’s intense gaze held you captive, and the edge in his voice sent the tension crackling in the air between you.

“You didn’t think I’d notice?” he continued, a low chuckle escaping his lips, laced with a hint of danger. “A man owns about three good shirts and is bound to notice when one goes missing.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, making your breath hitch again, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve been watching me,” he stated, his voice dropping even lower. “Spying on me like some lovesick teenager. It’s cute, but it’s also… a little sick.” The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, a flicker of something deeper behind his fierce exterior.

You swallowed hard, the words caught in your throat. “I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted, his grip tightening around your jaw just enough to keep your attention focused on him. “Don't give me excuses. Tell me why.”

The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. What could you possibly say that would explain the tangled web of emotions and desires that had led you here? His proximity was intoxicating, and the conflict between fear and yearning made your head spin.

“I... I just wanted to understand you,” you finally managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I hear you with the women you bring home... and I want that. ”

Logan's smile grows somehow even darker. "So ya' got all dressed up for me because you want me to fuck you like I do with the others? That right, sweetheart?" 

The only thing you could do at this moment was give him an eager nod, the ache between your legs growing shamefully larger by the second. 

“I’ll give you what you want kid', but you need to know something first.” He paused slightly, the air between you thick with tension. 

“I’m the best at what I do, and I don’t do it very nicely.”

cliff hanger I know, but i'm such a slut for teasing.

🏷️: @back2thebasics , @spookyfunhottub, @lanassmarty, @hypermarvellove, @kbear8863

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[willowsnook]

hi! could i get a scotch with lime in a copper mug? 💞✨

lando norris x mclarenrookie!reader

just shut up and come here

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With Max’s car starting to falter, Lando knew he had a real shot at competing for the WDC. As the season progressed, he’d become the favorite, and it finally felt like his time. There was just one problem: you.

In your rookie year in F1, you were holding third place, just 40 points behind Lando. Exceeding all the team's expectations, you’d proven to be a real competitor — and Lando wasn’t pleased. To him, the strategy should have been obvious: you were supposed to help him beat Max. But you saw it differently. After all, you were only 80 points behind the leader, and Zak and Andrea had decided to let things play out between the two of you, which only heightened the tension.

What started as a friendship had quickly soured after you overtook Lando to win in Hungary. Furious, he stormed into your driver’s room after the podium celebration, his eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, voice sharp.

You didn’t flinch, meeting his gaze. “A clean overtake,” you replied coolly.

“You’re screwing up my chances at the championship!” he seethed, his tone bitter.

"You do realize that I also have a shot at it?" You questioned. "Not my fault that I'm faster than you either."

At that, he got in your face, practically radiating anger. “Just stay out of my way,” he bit out before stalking out of the room.

It was the first of many heated clashes, and even Zak was starting to worry about the tension between his drivers. Things only escalated after your win in Baku, when Lando stood stony-faced on the podium, arms crossed, barely acknowledging the celebration. The media had a field day, and McLaren’s PR department wasn’t happy.

Seeing his growing frustration, your initial resentment slowly turned to concern. His behavior was spiraling, and it seemed no one was willing to address it — except you.

“What’s going on with you?” you demanded one day after a rough qualifying session, pushing open his door to find him pacing.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re being a brat to everyone! It was fine when you were just an asshole to me, but this is getting out of hand.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied venomously.

“If you need someone to talk to, you know McLaren has plenty of resources,” you said softly, trying a different approach.

“I don’t need your help so just fuck off,” he said and you backed off.

That didn’t stop you from giving your own therapist his email, instructing her to email him nonstop until he set up a session. Something must have worked because in the break before Austin, Lando did some press about his struggles with mental health and you heard that he’d bought gifts for the whole garage team as an apology for his behavior.

You two still didn’t really talk but he gave you a head nod now as a hello and there wasn’t much tension between you in front of the media anymore.

Then, on the Thursday before the Austin GP, during your post-free-practice interviews, a reporter brought up Lando.

“Y/N, any thoughts on Helmut’s recent comments?” they asked.

You raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, I don’t keep track of what everyone’s saying.”

“He claimed that Lando has ‘mental weaknesses’ preventing him from being a real championship contender.��

You stiffened, feeling anger bubble up. “Yeah, interesting,” you started, your PR manager nodding, likely expecting you to stay professional. Too bad for them. “Honestly, he can go fuck off.”

The press buzzed with shock, and your PR manager hurried over, but you went on.

“Red Bull’s looking for anything to distract from their own mess. It’s 2024, and criticizing a driver for being open about mental health is pathetic. We’d all be a little better off if they put him in a nursing home Lando’s one of the most talented drivers out there, so Helmut can shove it. Thanks.”

You walked off, ignoring your PR manager’s frantic scolding.

Later, after the team debrief, you headed to your room, ready to call it a day. But outside your door, you saw Lando waiting, his expression softer than usual.

“Are you okay—?” you began, but he cut you off, stepping forward.

“Just shut up and come here,” he murmured, pulling you into a hug. You rubbed his back as he buried his head against your shoulder, his voice muffled. “I owe you so much. And after what you said today… even more.”

“This stuff is hard, Lando. Sometimes it feels like the whole world’s on our shoulders.” You pulled back to meet his gaze. “I like it better when you’ve got the energy to actually fight me.”

He laughed softly, then hugged you tighter. “Can we… start over? As friends?” he asked, his voice tentative.

You smiled. “Of course — but only after I win the championship.”

He groaned, but his eyes sparkled with humor. “In your dreams, rookie.”

[whimsyfinny]

How to Avoid the Love of Your Life

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) had spent the last four years of her life avoiding him, but when her and Dean inevitably cross paths again it could go one of two ways - either really good, or really bad.

Warnings: Language, angst (so much fucking angst I'm sorry), Smut, PinV, Fingering, Oral (F receiving), Overstimulation, Dean being a sex God, reader being anxious, bad breakup, reader having a gun

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 8200 (wtf I'm sorry I got carried away)

A/N: Here it is! I'm sooooo sorry @jackles010378 that this took so long. I would've had it up last week but my kid got sick and I had to learn how to solo parent hahaha. Anyway, this is the final competition oneshot, and I hope you enjoy it!

“Well well, what do we have here?”

A voice that I knew all too well reached my ears through the crowd of people in the bar. The deep tone of his voice immediately brought goosebumps to my skin and a small smirk to my lips. I straightened where I stood besides the pool table, lowering the cue and leaning on it lazily as I turned to the direction the voice had come from.

“Dean Winchester,” I let my eyes travel over his rugged form; taking in the faint new scars on his face, his weather-beaten jacket and distinctive choice of plaid and denim. He looked virtually the same as he did when I last saw him four years ago - just older. His eyes now holding more haunting memories than any man should ever have to keep locked away in the depths of ones mind.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” I asked with the tilt of my head as he took a step closer, ignoring the bustling of people trying to get past him to order more drinks.

“You know why we’re here,” he pushed his hands into his pockets as he took another step, slowly creeping closer.

“Hmm,” I hummed, reaching for my beer and taking a sip, letting the bitter bubbles sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing them down.

“So, I take it this has nothing to do with coming for that falsely promised personal visit, and all to do with the pack of werewolves that have moved in across town?” I jabbed the beer bottle in his direction, feeling the smile on my face lose its warmth. Dean sighed and looked at his boots, and when he’d pondered on his answer, ready to verbalise it, I cut him off.

“Jody has been doing her fucking best to keep shit safe around here with the skills you taught her. The least you could do is check in a couple of times a week - visit once a month.”

“Listen sweetheart-”

“I don’t need to hear how you saved the world five hundred times this week. I don’t need to hear it second hand from other hunters. I need to hear it from you. She needs to hear that you’re ok. We all do.”

Dean looked up, his eyes meeting mine, clouded by a regretful shadow.

“(Y/n) I’m sorry. Life has been so fucking messed up and sometimes I don’t even know what fucking month it is. I’ll do better. Me and Sam - we’ll be better.”

I stared at him intently, reassuring myself that he wasn’t saying ‘he’d be better’ if he didn’t mean it. He’d fed me empty lies wrapped in colourful silk in the past and I’d unwrapped every one with a hopeful heart, disappointment following every single one of them. People live and they learn, and I was no exception.

“If you’re not better, for Jodys sake - for Claire and Alex and even Donna - then I will never forgive you.” I stared at Dean long enough to feel the frustration towards him start to simmer in my veins, reminding me why I did what I did all those years ago. I was willing to endure him for my family’s sake despite hating that stupid pedestal they’d put him on - hating how in their eyes, he could do no wrong.

If only they could see him through my eyes.

The sound of long-strided footsteps and a familiar voice exclaiming “oh shit” snapped me from my festering thoughts, and I looked up to see Sam walk up and stand next to Dean.

“Sam!” I smiled, his face the picture of apprehension as he nervously smiled back.

“H-hey (Y/n), it’s been a while. I’m surprised to see you.”

I raised an eyebrow and looked around the room incredulously before locking eyes with him again.

“Surprised to see me? Drinking in a bar, in my hometown? Where you guys know that I live? I know, right? Who would’ve thunk it.”

Sam shifted nervously, like he wanted to whisper something to his brother or simply whisk him away to a booth where they could sip beers, work a case and ogle waitresses. I sighed out a mentally exhausted breath - the presence of the Winchesters flooding my mind with memories of a better time - a simpler time. Dean was right about one thing - that life was messed up.

“Look, I’m clearly keeping you boys from your secret club meeting. I promise to behave if you do too,” I eyed them, waiting for them to accept the proposal of peace. Sam nodded, offering a few lacklustre words of poor convincing whilst Dean just stared at me, his lips twitching into a slight smirk, his eyes swimming in defiance.

“You’ve never been one to behave yourself, have you? Let's see how long this lasts.”

“Fuck you, Dean.”

Sam pulled Dean away before any more weaponised words could be fired, Deans lips forever holding that slap-worthy grin as he eventually turned his back and headed to the other side of the bar.

For the whole evening I could feel eyes on my back and a prickle on my skin. No matter what I did or how much I tried to distract myself - I was so hyper-aware that the Winchesters were sitting at a table just across the room. Every time I turned my back or walked to the bar, I could feel myself scrutinised under an unwanted observation. As I politely turned down the offer of a drink from a handsome stranger, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I reached to answer it, my palms growing sweaty when I saw the name flash on the screen.

“Hey Jody,” I fought to keep my voice steady, my previous frustrations starting to bubble to the surface again.

“Hey (Y/n)! You’re never going to guess who’s in town!”

My teeth immediately clenched and I shot a glare over to where the brothers were sitting, watching Dean tuck his phone back into his pocket and drop his head into his hands.

When I failed to utter a single word at Jody’s excited proclamation, she instantly caught on.

“Oh shit, you know already, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You at the bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you spoken to him?”

“I feel like I spoke at him, which counts I guess.”

Despite knowing my inner conflictions, she chuckled slightly.

“You give him a piece of your mind?”

“Yup,” I sighed, running a hand over my face, “I think I’m going to have to keep my distance from him, Jody. Just seeing him - looking at him after all these years - it hurts. It fucking hurts and he doesn’t realise how much he messed me up with everything that he did and said,” I could feel that all too familiar burn in my eyes as I fought desperately against the tears; biting my lip to stop it from trembling. When I gave my emotions away with a not-so-discrete sniff, Jody’s more sympathetic side emerged.

“Aw sweet girl, I know it’s hard. Do you want me to come and get you?”

I shook my head despite knowing she couldn’t see me and wiped away a rogue tear.

“No it’s ok, I think I just need to be alone. Plus I know you - you want to spend some time and catch up with them, which is fine and I get it. It’s just not something I can be there for right now,” I lifted my head and looked through the crowd of people, watching how Sam talked to Dean and Dean fiddled with his beer bottle again. I looked down before he could see me, though I knew he would be able to pick me out of any crowd anywhere within a matter of minutes. I hated that he knew me so well.

“If you’re sure, you know where we are if you need anything.”

“I know, thanks Jody. And… I’m sorry for making this so complicated for you. I know you have no reason to hate him, and I don’t like putting you in the middle like this.”

“(Y/n) I get it sweetheart, you have nothing to apologise for. Just…” she paused, as though debating if her words were worth saying.

“Just what?”

“Just don't do anything stupid,” I could hear the slight amusement in her voice despite her words of caution. I chuckled slightly, wiping away another tear.

“You know me - I can’t make that promise. Bye Jody, see you later.”

After the farewell I hung up the phone, deciding some fresh air would help me to cool my head.

I'd barely taken five steps out the bars entrance and into the parking lot when the harsh sound of rowdy chatter drew my attention. Snapping my head towards it, cold blood filled my veins at the sight in the shadows - the gut wrenching sight of a small group of men huddling together and attempting to steal a car.

To steal Baby.

The cold sensation of dread quickly transformed into the heat of fury as my blood started to boil at the sheer audacity of the thieving group, now doing their best to stay out of the glow of the street lamp. They were lucky it was me that had found them and not Dean, as the latter would have dropped every single one of them by now and not left a soul breathing. I know Dean and I no longer had any sort of relationship, but when we did, this car had been witness to every moment. Baby saw every smile, laugh, and happy tear shared between Dean and I, along with petty lovers quarrels and raw moments of lust filled passion. I'd lost count of how many times we'd steamed up those back windows since we were teenagers and Dean stole the car from his old man for our first date. Then there were the long rides from case to case - Sam and I arguing over who rode shotgun - with Metallica blasting from the speakers, windows rolled down and the wind wisping every worry away as we belted our lungs out. Those were the best moments of my life. In that car. And I'd be damned if I let some dive bar fuckheads steal her.

With zero hesitation I pulled out the gun tucked into my boot and fired three warning shots to the sky before aiming my piece at them, wary that they might also be packing.

“Get away from the FUCKING car - NOW!”

The anger in my voice was a deadly warning as the group turned to me like rabbits in the headlights before turning tail and bolting - one of them dropping a hefty crowbar in the process. As I lowered my gun when they fled, I turned around at the sound of hurried footsteps thumping on the gravel behind me.

“What the hell is going on?” Dean had arrived at my side before Sam and he reached to rest a hand on the small of my back; guided by muscle memory. I turned to face him, a small crowd gathering outside the bar to witness the fleeting commotion. As Sam arrived I explained, my voice harbouring a slight tremble of adrenaline and frustration.

“Some assholes tried to steal Baby-”

“WHAT?!” Deans voice filled with horror, yet his hand remained on my back.

“But you- you're ok right? They didn't hurt you?”

“What? No, I'm fine.”

With my confirmation he withdrew his hand and doubled over, resting his palms on his knees and dropped his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Ugh thank fuck - you scared the shit out of me.”

Sam, who appeared shortly after Dean, patted him on the back and flashed me a split-second grin, the glint lingering in his eyes.

“Yeah, I don't think I've seen Dean move so fast - like… ever.”

I couldn't stop the soft, airy laugh leaving my lungs, a memory flooding my mind.

“I think the fastest I ever saw him move was when we used to hunt with your dad, and Dean took the car without permission. John ended up stranded at that god-awful motel for six hours after we accidentally fell asleep in the layby-”

“Oh god, was that the motel with those raccoons?” Dean stood up straight, the memory seeming to light up his face as he looked me straight in the eye, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“Yes - oh my GOD those raccoons were awful,” I started to chuckle and I could tell Dean was holding it in.

“Raccoons?” Sam asked, looking between us with a raised eyebrow. I opened my mouth to explain but Dean beat me to it.

“In every corner of each room there was a taxidermy raccoon, however the person who taxidermied them obviously had no idea what an actual raccoon looked like.”

“Most of them had eyes that were too close together and their bodies were way too long - like some sort of ferret-raccoon hybrid,” I chimed in, the memory bringing warmth to my chest at the comical idiocy of it all.

“I remember dad turned his so they faced the wall and away from the bed,” Dean let out a small laugh, managing to pull one from Sam as well as we slowly made our way over to the car, my gun returned to the holster in my boot.

“I'm pretty sure that was the first and last thing that ever gave John Winchester genuine heebie jeebies,” I looked up at Sam's disbelieving expression.

“And your brother hid his in the bottom of the closet.”

Dean grimaced before chuckling again.

“They had tiny little ferret-raccoon buttcheeks.”

“Oh god yeah, they were so prominent.”

“So prominent.”

Stepping up to Baby, Dean gave her a thorough once over, running his large hands gently over the places most likely to have laid victim to the crowbar. After three laps and continuous scrutiny, he deemed her unharmed.

We stood together for a moment in silence, the conversation having bled out, leaving nothing but our prior heavy tension and my own dwelling sorrow. I looked up at them both, my gaze lingering on Dean.

“Look, I need to go. I can't- I can't be around you right now, Dean. I'm glad Baby is ok and I…” I sucked in a breath, steadying my voice, “I wish you all the best. Both of you. Stay safe out there.” with my final words I spun on my heel and left.

The motel room was pitch black save for the small box TV flickering in the corner, the original Ghostbusters playing through blown out speakers. I sat in the middle of the couch rocking baggy plaid pj pants and an old band t-shirt (likely Deans, much to my own dismay). With criss-crossed legs and a bowl of popcorn in my lap, I attempted to wallow, Rory Gilmore style, over a man who I would never fully get over. Mine and Deans relationship had ended years ago, yet here I was, the wound still as fresh as the day it was inflicted. Most days I get by, and sometimes even forget the pain he caused me, allowing me to feel light and almost normal. But seeing him in the flesh, catching the scent of him and hearing his voice had turned my defences to ash. I felt exposed and raw, my heart practically on a silver platter ready for another round of being ripped to pieces. I thought I would be able to handle it if I ran into him. I knew deep down in my gut that it would happen eventually, that it was unavoidable given my living arrangements. That he would likely come and visit Jody and the others, and I would have to pretend that everything was ok - that my heart wasn't still breaking over him. I'd avoided him for this long, always able to find the perfect excuse to not be around when he showed up. It was about time the avoidance streak ran it out.

The sound of his laugh earlier this evening had tightened every muscle in my chest, reminding me of every blissful moment we'd spent together - obsessed with each others company and craving nothing else on this fucked up Earth. His smile had made me want to weep, knowing I no longer got to wake up to it every morning or let it be the last thing I witnessed before sleep. The smile that got us both into so much trouble, both as teenagers and adults alike. The smile that always made arguments feel absurd half way through. No matter who I encounter in life or how many people God throws at me in an attempt to fill the void left behind by Dean, it's an incurable hole in my soul that can never be healed.

I shovelled a handful of popcorn into my mouth as I watched the movie unfold - desperate for the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man to reach through the screen and devour me along with my melancholy attitude. Too preoccupied with the film and the strange attraction I seemed to be harbouring to men in boiler suits, I almost missed the low rumble of an engine pull into the motel parking lot outside my room. An all too familiar engine. My ears pricked before reality dawned, the blood draining from my face.

“That son of a bitch.”

I scrambled off the couch and ducked behind it, popcorn flying, knowing all too well that he'd come peering in through the gaps in the blind - which my dumbass had left open so I could watch the rain. Heavy rain and self pity went together like jack and coke after all.

There were a few breaths of silence after the squeak and slam of the impala door, and I thought maybe I'd gotten away with it. Perhaps he was staying in a room further down? Fate was forever against me though when there was a loud knock on the door. I flinched, anxiety dampening my palms as I tucked my knees into my chest and held my breath, praying to Chuck himself that Dean would leave. That he'd convince himself that he was making a reckless decision by being here, or that he had the wrong room. I almost jumped out of my skin when he rapped on the window and his voice boomed through the pattering of rain and static-y TV audio.

“I know you're in there (Y/n), now open the door.”

Even if I'd wanted to move, the ability to do so had fled my body, my muscles petrified at the thought of confronting him. I jumped again when he hammered on the door this time, the cheap wood rattling on its hinges.

“Jesus Christ, (Y/n)! Your truck is parked outside and I can see your hunting gear on the table. Open the fucking door!”

“Go away!”

“Not until you let me speak to you!”

“No!”

There was a loud THUD as his boot collided with the door and I heard him growl in frustration. I could just picture him pacing in a circle, running a hand through his hair.

“(Y/n)-”

“Please, Dean, just… just don't. I can't look at you.” I felt my voice shrink as I pulled my knees tighter to my chest, unsure if he caught my words. He did.

“What- why not?” His voice was a wretched mix of desperation and confusion, cracking between words.

I was quiet for a moment, letting the silence hang thick in the air before I pushed myself to my feet, instantly missing the comfort of the upright foetal position. I wandered over to the door, my fuzzy-socked feet padding on the thread-bare carpet.

“Because,” I leant against the wood, my heart aching at the thought of him being so close yet so devastatingly untouchable, “if I open this door I'm going to undo all the progress I've made with getting over you, Dean.” His name was bittersweet as it slid off my tongue. The quiet sound of Dean sucking in a breath hissed through the gaps in the wood.

“Please, sweetheart. I need you to open this door.”

The softer tone of his voice made him infinitely harder to resist, but I had to stand my ground.

“Dean, you know I can't,” my eyes burned as the tears started to well, my voice objecting to my words with a pitiful rasp.

“Yes you can,” he paused, “you have to, otherwise I'm going to kick this piece of shit down.”

My eyes flew wide.

“No-no Dean-”

“Stand back.”

“Don't!”

“Three…”

“Stop-”

“Two…”

“Dean-”

“One-”

“Fine!”

I grasped the handle and flung the door open, my heart dancing with my stomach when I finally caught sight of him. There he was, soaked through from the rain and giving me that woeful Mr Darcy stare. The water droplets clung to his lashes and trickled down his cheeks, the breathtaking beauty of him erasing the pre-prepared sentence from my mind. Now, all I could think at that moment was to get him warm and dry. The noose around my heart tightened when I reached a hand out to grasp his, pulling him in out of the downpour. As the door closed behind him there was a pause, my quickly dissolving self restraint making it agonising to be in his presence. And Dean seemed to know that, yet he remained.

“(Y/n)-”

“Don’t,” as the cold water started to pool around his boots, I paced over to the bathroom, quickly emerging with a fuzzy towel in hand. I passed it over to him slowly, treating him like a wild, unpredictable animal that could pounce at any moment. He took it gently from my grasp, his fingers softly brushing mine. His skin was cold and damp from the outdoors. We stood in silence for a few moments whilst Dean dried his hair as best as he could, shortly after shrugging off his jacket to hang on the dining chair beside him. As he continued to ruffle his hair dry, I steeled myself, taking a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Why are you here, Dean? What do you want?”

He lowered the towel and hung it with his jacket, sighing from the pit of his stomach.

“Me and Sam went to see Jody and the others. I was hoping to run into you again - I wanted to talk to you. But when you didn’t appear, Jody said you’d checked out for a few nights - said you wanted to be away from the house when… uh…” his voice faltered and something akin to guilt flashed in his eyes. Unable to finish his sentence he leant on the table, staring intently at the pile of hunting gear I'd dumped there.

“When you arrived,” I finished it for him, “Yeah, that’s right. And I told  her not to tell you where I was.”

“She didn’t,” he stood up straight again, holding his hands up, “I knew you wouldn’t have gone far, so I drove around until I spotted your truck,” he admitted, gaze flitting down to the floor. More silence followed, the atmosphere thickening as the seconds ticked by.

“Dean,” my voice was small as my anxiety spiked again, the question ready to spill from my mouth though no matter what he said, I knew I wasn’t ready for the answer. “Why are you here? What do you want from me? You say you want to talk, but you’re the one who ended everything. You ended our decades-long relationship out of fucking nowhere. What could there possibly be to talk about anymore. It’s been four years.” My voice trembled and he clenched his teeth, looking away from me before setting his eyes back to the floor. He dragged his gaze back up to mine, and something burned deep in those evergreen irises that took my breath away. Yet he remained silent.

“You crushed me when out of nowhere you said we were over - that we had no future. That you couldn't imagine growing old with me, like we'd always talked about. You have no idea how much you broke my fucking heart, and then you just expected me to live alongside you in the bunker like nothing was wrong? In my own room, far away from you? Why did you think that I would be ok with that?” I felt the familiar drip of hot tears and they flooded down my cheeks and rolled off my chin, the dam I’d fought so hard to contain now bursting wide with vengeance.

“You think I wanted you to leave?” Dean spoke up finally, his voice deep and gravelly, like it always was when he was upset. “You don’t think that telling you that everything was over wasn’t the hardest thing that I’ve ever had to do? That I was happy watching you pack your bags and walk out without so much as a goodbye?”

“You didn’t love me, Dean, so why would you have cared? You obviously didn’t love me the way that I loved you.”

He flinched, but took a step closer. 

“You think this is because I stopped loving you? (Y/n)... it wasn’t safe- you weren’t safe in the bunker. You weren’t safe with me…” his expression turned to one of pain as his brows pinched and his eyes glistened. He took a deep breath. “I thought maybe if you just stayed in the bunker with little to no association with me, then it would be ok. I mean, I'd still get to see you, talk to you. Be in your fucking presence. I never expected you to- to…” he took another deep breath, his lungs almost stuttering. “I didn’t think you would leave.”

He never took his eyes off mine. I saw the years of hurt and heartbreak intertwine with glimmers of green and gold, the emotions I always knew he’d struggled to cope with were swimming in a pool of desperation and fear. On the outside, Dean Winchester was the strongest there was. He was an undefeated and undisputed leader of men. He was the King of hunters. The Alpha. The man who could make you wish you were dead. Yet here he was, wearing every vulnerable emotion on his sleeve as he stood before me with anxious breaths and fearful eyes. The sight made my heart break all over again.

“Dean,” his name was like a quiet prayer as he moved closer again, “I don’t think you understand…”

“Understand what, sweetheart?” the rasp in his voice pebbled goosebumps on my skin, and when he reached for a lock of my hair to twirl around his finger, I had to fight off every instinct to just throw myself into his arms and bury my face in his chest. His familiar scent floated through the air and wrapped itself around my senses, and when I breathed him in the aroma of old leather and gunpowder went straight to my brain like a hit of cocaine. The pleasant hum from my chest was involuntary. 

“I don’t think you understand that… that…” I sighed a woeful breath, looking up at him and seeing nothing but a warm, expectant gaze.

“That I’m still in love with you.”

The finger Dean had looped around my hair froze in place and I heard him suck in a breath, his lips parting. He remained unmoving, as though every thought racing through his mind had taken precedence over his body. It was a moment before he blinked, coming back down to Earth. When he looked down at me, all of the desperation, hurt and heartbreak dissipated from his eyes and in their place was the blazing heat of hope, accentuated by a small upturned twitch of his lips.

“You do?” 

“Yes.”

“You’re not fucking with me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Before I could react Dean had scooped me into his arms and crashed his mouth onto mine. The urge to push him away and tell him to get the fuck out bubbled up inside me, however when his familiar taste graced my tongue, a taste that was home, every desire for him to leave evaporated. The years of being apart, of being unable to touch him had made every caress electric, no matter how feather-light. My hands had tangled in his shirt as he pressed his mouth harder onto mine, pulling him crushingly close. His embrace was almost suffocating before he gently slid his hands up and threaded his rough fingers through my hair, and I lifted my own hands to do the same. I took my time with the motion, reminding myself of what he felt like - not that the memory of him ever truly left. I remembered how the muscles across his stomach and chest felt hard beneath a soft layer of skin. I remembered the way they quivered at my touch, and how my touch always pulled soft moans from his lips. My hands crept up to take hold of his face, the familiar feeling of his rough stubble beneath my fingertips ever present, a reminder of how that rough stubble felt when it tauntingly brushed against other parts of my body. I cupped his cheeks, feeling my own tears dampen his skin. He kissed me in a way that said I’m sorry, a kiss that held four years of pent up emotions with a desire to be released. A kiss that I knew was designed specifically for me. Our breaths and lips became frantic, the pace in which we were now devouring each other was still not enough to soothe the wounds in our hearts that were so desperate to be healed. Dean pulled away and held my face in his hands, running his rough thumbs over the soft skin under my eyes to wipe away the tears.

“I miss you, so fucking much,” his voice was low, his words for my ears only - not that anyone else was listening.

“I miss you too,” I sniffled, resting my palms on his chest again and relishing in the heat seeping through his shirt.

He leant down and rested his forehead against mine, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. The atmosphere shifted however when he dipped down lower and pressed a hot kiss to my cheek, then to my ear, and then to my neck - each press of his lips drawing a shiver from my spine. I gasped when he nibbled my pulse point gently and my hands flew to grasp the short strands of hair at the back of his neck, my nails dragging over his scalp. He groaned against me at the sensation, one large hand moving to grip my hair at its roots whilst the other slid to my hip - squeezing the soft flesh. A moan of his name slipped past my lips and it was like a switch was flipped as he pulled away suddenly. He turned to take a few steps across the room, attempting to put some distance between us. I stood, baffled for a moment, but when he turned back to me and his vibrant eyes were now black with lust, I almost knew what he was going to say.

“Do you really want to go there sweetheart? Do you think you’ll be able to handle it?” he started making slow strides back towards me and I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. 

“Yes,” my voice was more breathy than I’d anticipated.

“No regrets?” he was almost within reach again.

“No regrets.”

When his hands landed on my waist again, his frenzied kisses on my lips, I was expecting to be able to ravage him equally; but when he lifted me and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing I let out a shocked yelp. 

“Dean!”

He chuckled, the sound low in his chest as he strode over to the bed and threw me down, the impact on the mattress knocking a breath out of me.

“I’ve not been able to fuck you sensless for four years, there ain’t no way I’m going easy on you tonight sweetheart.” I propped myself up on my elbows and watched as he tore his top from his body. I barely got a glimpse of his rugged physique that I’d so terribly missed before he all but pounced, trapping me beneath him. My hands immediately clung to the tight muscles of his back, my nails digging in and drawing a hiss from his clenched teeth before his mouth pressed to my neck right below my ear.

“Do you remember how you used to scream my name?”

I nodded.

“I’m going to make you scream much, much, louder than you ever have before. I’m going to make all past encounters feel like a warm up compared to what I’m gonna do to you tonight.” I shivered at his words as his hot breath fanned over my skin. His hands were fast, desperately tugging on my pyjama pants to slip one inside the soft fabric, not bothering to remove them entirely. There was an urgency to his movements like nothing I’d ever seen, the air leaving my lungs on a gasping moan when his fingers grazed my underwear. He chuckled slightly, pressing a series of searing kisses down my neck to my collar bone. 

“Well, aren't you sensitive? How long has it been, darlin’? Since someone else touched you - since someone else made you cum?” The heat rose to my already flushing cheeks at his words and I tried to cover my face with the back of my hand. My attempts to hide were futile as his long fingers wrapped around my wrist and he pinned my arm above my head. 

“Well?” he pressed, a smirk on his lips.

“Four years,” I all but squeaked. He thought for a moment before his smirk evolved into a widespread grin. “Don't let it go to your head, Winchester,” I did my best to bite out my words yet my voice trembled with a mixture of apprehension and excitement. My head rolled into the quilt and my back arched when he pushed his finger against my clit through my underwear a second time, this time harder, more purposeful. His own breath was shuddering as he continued to plant hot kisses against my skin, the slight dampness from his lips cooling quickly when he pulled back to sit on his knees. My heart didn't know if it wanted to stop dead in my chest or palpitate itself into oblivion when he looked down at me. Dean eminated a dark, primal hunger, glazing his eyes with lust as he gnawed his bottom lip. There wasn't a part of me that he hadn't seen before, and despite my current lack of nakedness it was as if I wasn't wearing anything at all. He made a noise in his chest that seemed to roll up his throat, like a growl of approval as I lay like prey beneath him. Dean may be older now, but he was bigger. Broader. Larger. The years of saving the world and fighting every abomination in his path had forced him to bulk up most exquisitely. With my free hand I traced over the scars adorning his shoulders, chest and abdomen: some old and silver, some newer and pink. There were even a fresh few, still scabbed over, and he shivered at every gentle touch. His gaze, however, was unrelenting. Without uttering a word he yanked my pyjama bottoms from my legs and tossed them into the depths of the room, immediately doing the same with my underwear. Instinctively I attempted to pull my knees together despite him being planted between them and he laughed softly, dragging his dark eyes over my slightly squirming body. He clutched my hand that was touching his chest and pinned it with my other one above my head, leaning down to lift the hem of my t-shirt, to gather above my breasts with his teeth. A shiver tore through me as his hot breath dusted the soft skin of my stomach and ribs, perking my nipples instantly.

“I think your body missed me sweetheart.”

“Definitely not just my body,” I panted. He breathed over my lips for a moment, every possibility of tonight's endeavours flashing before his eyes before he dipped his head to kiss me. His mouth moved slightly slower this time, like he was desperately trying to control the beast inside and make every moment count. To make every moment memorable.

“Do you remember Oasis Plains, Oklahoma? With that fancy house we borrowed?” His voice dropped an octave, eyes hooded as he recalled the memory.

“Yes,” I practically clenched, remembering the late night escapades from all those years ago. In my mind it was like yesterday - the way his lips felt on my skin, how his strong fingers bruised my thighs, and how he brought me to total completion no less than three times. His lips twitched up as he slid down my body and off the edge of the bed to kneel on the floor. He roughly gripped my thighs and threw them over his shoulders before slowly, tantalisingly sliding his hands up the supple flesh to grasp my ass and pull my whole body towards him.

“I’m gonna make you lose your fucking mind, just like you did back then. Maybe I'll even beat that record.”

My eyes could've disappeared inside my skull with how far they rolled back, his mouth's quick descent over my most intimate area - a soft kiss placed just above my clit - had me gasping in anticipation. Without a second to gather my thoughts he pressed his next kiss to that bundle of nerves; the wet heat of his mouth sending a pulse after pulse of fire through my veins as I twitched at his touch. He was an expert. Every flick of his tongue was practised and calculated, knowing which way to swirl, to caress, and how much pressure to apply. It was only a matter of minutes before my hands plunged into his hair and I grasped desperately at the soft strands, feeling that tidal wave build, and build, and build before he daringly grazed his teeth over my clit and it sent the wave crashing down around me, my body arching off the soft mattress as I came undone in his arms at the mercy of his mouth. 

“F-FUCK- Dean-”

My limbs twitched as they relaxed on the come-down, Deans tongue softly tracing up and down my opening. Without pulling away, he spoke in a husky tone:

“Fuck, sweetheart. You have no idea how many times I've reminisced about you moaning my name like that.”

The breath from his words made me shiver, and I moved to prop myself up on my elbows. 

“Ready for round two?” His voice remained low, not waiting for my inevitable confirmation before slowly dipping a finger into my still-clenching walls. The moan that slipped past my lips pulled a groan from Dean, a second finger joining the first as they curled up to push against the soft cushion hidden in the depths of my core. He knew where to find it with zero hesitation - his fingers seemingly acting on muscle memory as he beckoned another orgasm from me. He coaxed it forward, my inner nerves dangerously sensitive as the pleasure began to pool for a second time. With every motion of his finger, again and again, I started to feel the coil twist. I was in two minds on whether to be mortified by how easily he could pull a climax from my very soul, or impressed by it. Either way, he had me teetering on the edge a second time before a single flick of his tongue snapped the coil and euphoria claimed me once more.

His name merged with the endless moans spilling from my mouth, my hazy brain struggling to differentiate the two.

“Shit, you taste so good baby. I could devour you all night.”

“I wouldn't stop you.”

He grinned.

“As much as I would love to indulge you, I need to fuck you. Now.”

He pushed on the backs of my thighs, urging me to centre myself on the bed before he climbed back over me. I could feel myself salivating at the sight of his broad shoulders flexing under his weight, his skin damp with sweat from being trapped beneath my thighs.

He leant down to capture my mouth again, a kiss fueled with raw, carnal desire as he struggled to hold himself back. He shuddered under my fingertips as I trailed them down his torso to his belt, hastily unfastening the buckle and top button of his jeans. It was a joint effort to push them off his hips and down his thighs, but that's as far as they went. The feral need to be inside me had consumed him, and I'd barely withdrawn my hands from between us when he lined up and buried himself to the hilt. 

The burn and stretch was immediate - knocking the air from my lungs as I clutched his solid biceps like a lifeline, my nails indenting his scarred skin. He had the common decency to stay still for around ten seconds before his self restraint diminished yet again and he withdrew slowly. I could feel the divine ridges on his length through the immense build up of my slick and his spit, and as he eased back in he dropped his head into the crook of my neck with a gasp and a groan. A large, rough palm glided down my thigh, goosebumps in its wake as he grasped beneath my knee to rest my leg on his hip. Another moan filled the air between us at the new angle, the top of his cock kissing the soft, sensitive cushion inside. His mouth was hot on my neck as his hips found a rhythm against mine - a rhythm that gradually increased in speed with the intense pleasure unrelenting on my over-sensitive insides. My next impending climax swiftly appearing on the horizon.

“Dean,” I pleaded, my eyes cracking open to look up at him through welling tears, “I'm getting close again-”

He lifted his head, that play-boy grin finding his lips as he saw the mess I'd become at his touch; the mascara-stained tear tracks smudging on my cheeks and the unruly sex-hair was always a good sign of a good time.

“I need you to let go sweetheart - cum for me. Please…”

His words were the cherry on the cake for my undoing yet again and I felt my whole body explode with pleasure and tense up around him. The third orgasm of the night had my vision blurring when he cursed under his breath at my contracting walls, yet he didn't let up. He fucked me through the mind blowing bliss, not letting me catch my breath as a fourth climax hit me out of nowhere, the torturous attack on my g-spot making me feel close to blacking out.

“F-FUCK- Dean- Please- I can't,” my voice was hoarse from the moans and ragged breaths ripping from my throat every other second and my whole body trembled, slick with sweat from both myself and Dean. Despite the death grip I had on Deans cock, every involuntary clench making my knees twitch, he still wasn't finished. His powerful thrusts stuttered slightly before he pulled out, causing me to suck a breath through my teeth. Before I had a chance to query his actions he flipped me with ease, landing me flat on my stomach, my face buried in the soft quilt. Much like before, he didn't wait for an invitation to push back in, the overstimulated nerves in my core sending a jolt through every aching muscle in my body. The deeper angle pulled a cry from my lips when he bottomed out, and if I didn't know any better I would've said that his cock was in my ribcage. Deans large, warm hands took up residence on the supply flesh around my hips, tugging them up so my ass was in the air.

“Shit, (Y/n), with a view like this I'm not gonna last much longer- fuck,” Deans words were strained as he picked up the pace again, albeit this time there was an urgency to his movements. A desperate desire to experience the same Earth shattering euphoria that he had hand delivered to me. With my face in the fabric I snuck a hand down between my legs, finding the pleasure of circling my clit both a relief and an amplifier for the scorching pleasure Dean was inflicting. It didn't take long for him to tear my hand away, only to replace it with his own - pulling noises from my lips that were a whole new calibre of erotic that I didn't know I was capable of. My moans had an effect on Dean, and the hand that was on my hip, that was kneading my soft skin with a bruising grip had shot forwards and planted beside my head, bracing his weight above me. I couldn't see him but I could feel his solid chest against my back, his head dipping down to place rough kisses against my shoulder, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there. I prepared myself for the bruises I'd find on my body in the morning - his firm hold on me would have been almost painful given any other situation. That's not to forget the biting and sucking he was now subjecting my neck and shoulder blades to - the sensation setting my skin ablaze. Deans strained breaths were a tell for his own impending end, with his hips losing their strong rhythm as he panted out laboriously. The sound of him on the verge of bliss, accompanied by every other agonising ministration performed on my body had me unravelling one last time; one hand fisting the sheets whilst the other reached back, my nails brushing over Deans scalp and toying with his short, soft hair. The fluttering of my channel around his cock was all it took to bring him to his long awaited fervid finish. I trembled beneath him as he groaned into my ear, the sound something primal, something almost unhinged. We remained still for a moment, waiting for the post climax clarity to come along and make us regret our decision. He pulled out slowly, earning a hiss from both of us at the loss of warmth and intimate contact. The simultaneous feeling of emptiness and relief was an odd feeling, as I know full well he’d ruined me for anyone else - no one in Heaven or Hell could compete with that. Not that I wanted them to in the first place. Every nerve ending in my lower region fizzled with overstimulation, yet I couldn't have felt more relaxed; more satiated. For the first time in a very, very, long time, I felt complete. 

Dean grabbed the towel he'd left on the back of the chair and used it to catch the evidence of our intimacy, the wetness cooling quickly on my thighs as I pushed myself to sit on my knees. I turned and looked up at him, watching as he stood beside the bed, eyeing me nervously. I raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on my lips.

“What's wrong? Regretting the whole ‘No Regrets’ thing already?” 

He shook his head.

“Do you?” His voice held a crackle that equaled his nervous expression.

I shook my head. He looked down at his clothes on the floor.

“No, although I'm getting the impression from you that this was a one time thing,” he must've heard the disappointment when I spoke, his eyes flying up to meet mine.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because you're picking your shit off the floor like you're about to leave, that's why.”

“You…want me to stay? I thought-”

“Did I fucking stutter when I said I still love you, Dean? Because I do, and it's all-consuming and to be totally honest, I never want to leave your side again.” Heat bloomed across my cheeks at my sudden proclamation. Deans grip on his clothes slackened, letting it all fall back to the floor. From the look on his face it was like I'd just declared him King of the world; like a light switched on behind his eyes and a smile threatened to spread across his face.

“Yeah?” 

I fiddle with my fingers in my lap, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth.

“Yeah-whoa!”

I didn't get the chance to feel bashful or embarrassed when Dean tackled me onto the bed. At first he peppered my still-damp skin with small kisses that tickled with his stubble, before placing his mouth over mine. I couldn't recall a time that he'd kissed me so softly, and accompanied by the gentle embrace of his arms with his fingers carefully threading through my hair, it was enough to bring me to tears.

“I've missed you so much,” my sniffles brought an almost relieved smile to his features as he pulled back and stroked my hair with overwhelming tenderness.

“I've missed you too, sweetheart.

So fucking much.”

----------------------------

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @libby99hb @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung @king-of-milf-lovers @xshortputax @jerksbitch @multifandoms-saidwhat @deans-baby-momma @writersxxx

[fastandcarlos]

Whole World On Your Shoulders : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: with the pressures of his upcoming move weighing down on him, lewis counts on you to reassure him that he's doing the right thing

Your eyes followed Lewis carefully as he walked through your home, watching him drop his bag with a thud, brushing his hands over his face. You placed your phone down, studying him closely as you noticed the frustration that was evident in his expression. 

“Everything alright?” You asked, offering Lewis a soft smile, only for that to drop when he didn’t return it. Instead, he scuffed his feet on the ground, throwing himself down beside you. 

“I can’t win,” Lewis sighed, feeling your arms quickly wrap around his frame, pulling him into your chest. “I’m doing well with Mercedes but people keep making me feel guilty about leaving. And now I’m winning again, Ferrari are telling me about all these expectations they have for me.” 

“I'm sorry," you whispered, pressing a kiss against Lewis' head as he cuddled himself into your side, desperate for a touch of comfort from your hold. 

Your head rested on top of his, entangling your legs in with his own. “I’ve got so much pressure on my shoulders right now, there’s so many people who I need to try and impress, what if I mess up and just end up disappointing everyone?” 

“That’s not going to happen Lew, you’ve not disappointed anyone in nearly twenty years of racing.” 

It broke your heart seeing how frail Lewis was as he held you, struggling to maintain his composure. For quite some there had been a little bit of pressure, it was only natural for someone who was about to sign with Ferrari, but as contract start came closer, the pressure was only mounting more. 

“What am I supposed to do baby?” Lewis nervously asked you, tilting his head back slightly to try and look up at you. 

His voice sounded as if it was on the verge of desperate, a tone from Lewis that you hadn’t heard for quite some time. He liked to be composed and not let you in whenever he was struggling, but today it seemed as if he had decided that he was going to do the complete opposite. 

“No matter what I do I’m upsetting someone, it’s bitter for Mercedes but a joy for Ferrari that I’m doing well right now,” Lewis continued to huff, “they keep telling me they’re happy for me, but I know they don’t mean it, they don’t want me to go.” 

Your hand brushed gently over the top of his head, “you don’t need to worry about all of them, you need to focus on doing what’s best for you, regardless of who you upset.” 

Lewis hummed in agreement with what you had to say, he’d spent so long working as part of a team, but now his new decision was a selfish one. His career didn’t have much longer left and he wanted to make the choices that would be best for him, not for anyone else. 

The biggest cheerleader for him when making that decision was absolutely you. You’d encouraged him immensely to make the call that was best for him. Whether it was Mercedes or Ferrari, you were going to support him with it regardless. 

“Thank you,” Lewis whispered, “for always being here for me to help me out.” 

You never wanted to be thanked by Lewis, you never expected it from him either. All you did was care, and if you were needed to pick him back up and give him a boost, then you were going to do that without even having to think about it. 

“You know, people would dream about being you,” you told him. 

“They'd be stupid too," Lewis scoffed, "I wouldn’t want anyone to have to work under the pressure that I'm working under. The only reason I manage it most of the time is because I have you here.” 

“I’m nothing to do with this,” you laughed, only for Lewis’ head to shake as you spoke. 

He wished you saw more of the impact you had on him and how helpful all of the little things that you did were for him. “Just you being here means the world love, the feeling of knowing I’m not alone makes such a difference,” he admitted. 

You could feel in Lewis’ hold just how much he wanted, or needed, to have you there. He was terrified of you letting go, the one person who he could always count on leaving him. You didn’t even need to do or say anything, just being there was more than enough for him. 

“I’m incredibly proud of you, I don’t tell you that enough,” you mused. 

Your words were like music to Lewis’ ears, the perfect pick up that he needed. At times it felt like no one was proud of him now, they were disappointed, confused, some even angry, but they didn’t understand Lewis like you did, they didn’t understand why the decision needed to be made. 

“Will you be there at the last few races?” Lewis tentatively asked, taking a tight hold of your hand. “It’s going to be tough, and I’d really love for you to be there, for me.” 

Without even thinking, your head nodded in response to his question. If he was honest, he was terrified of leaving Mercedes, leaving everything that had become so comfortable over the past decade, it was a goodbye that was going to be far from easy. 

“I don’t say it enough, but I really am thankful for all that you do,” Lewis told you once again, “not many people could put up with someone like me.” 

It had its difficulties dating Lewis, you couldn’t deny it, but that was far outweighed by all the positives. You didn’t want the easy life, you enjoyed the challenges, the highs and the lows, all the boring bits and the exciting bits that left you thrilled. 

“I’m going to be right here to ease that weight you’re carrying on your shoulders,” you insisted, “you don’t ever have to worry about carrying it alone.” 

“I know,” Lewis smiled, “that’s what makes us such a good team.” 

You hummed in agreement with Lewis, you two clicked perfectly together, you had such a clear understanding of one another and knew exactly how to be there for the other. 

“I don’t quite know how the next season is going to pan out, I can’t promise that next year will be easy, but I’m still going to be there and putting you first,” Lewis assured you, kissing against the top of your shoulder. “It’s going to be a rollercoaster, but that’s how we like it.” 

“You always promised me life wouldn’t be easy.” 

Relief hit you as a chuckle came from Lewis, “I’ve no doubt it’s going to be amazing, because we’ll be right there together.” 

Ferrari was going to be new to everyone, but you had every confidence that it would work out, if anyone knew how to overcome a challenge, it was definitely Lewis. 

“Try not to worry about everything that’s coming our way,” you whispered, “for once, we’re going to be selfish for a while.” 

Lewis nodded in agreement, “it’s about time that we put ourselves first for a little while, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more, we’ve got to be our number ones for once.” 

“Screw what anyone else thinks anyway.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[belqva]

₊˚⊹౨ PTOLEMAEA (C.M.) ৎ ₊˚⊹

warnings: emotional and physical abuse, inappropriate comments (only one), parent issues, confessional themes, religious themes, mentions of miscarriages, alcoholism, cheating and gambling

summary: In a church’s embrace, faith and desire collide. A daughter’s silent struggle beneath parents’ guise, seeks solace in forbidden thoughts.

pairing: charlie mayhew x reader

word count: 2.8k

a/n: umm.. what can I say? I’m just a girl and I am obsessed with Nicholas Chavez so ofc I had to write something for him!! Sorry if there are any inaccuracies I am not a roman catholic Christian, and in no ways do I approve of any kind of religious discrimination or whatsoever!! This is just a work of fanfiction. Just to mention yet again English is not my first language so sorry if there are any mistakes. Feel free to write your thoughts and opinions, requests are open as long as you are respectful!! And as always I hope you enjoy <333

You stood at Sunday morning mass beside your parents, the familiar scent of candles and incense filling the air. Your hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, a delicate bow resting against it—just the way your mother liked it.

You wore a knee-length skirt with an appropriate top, an outfit that aligned with the image of a good Christian girl. You were supposed to be focused on prayer, absorbing the priest’s sermon, but your mind wandered elsewhere.

The morning had already been eventful, and your thoughts kept replaying the chaotic scene at home before you arrived at church.

It had all changed so quickly once you stepped through the church doors. Your mother and father, as if by some silent agreement, shifted into their usual roles.

They greeted neighbors with wide smiles, exchanging pleasantries as though everything in your household was perfectly ordinary. Then, during mass, they stood on either side of you, hands folded in prayer, playing the part of a devout and happy Christian couple.

But it was a charade, and you knew it all too well. Only an hour earlier, their voices had echoed through the house in another heated argument.

Your father, as always, was a shadow of the man you had once imagined he could be. He had wanted a son, a dream he clung to until after your birth. But after several miscarriages, his hope dissolved, replaced by bitterness. His drinking became a constant, and gambling soon followed. He found his escape in these vices, and over time, he drifted further from any sense of family.

Your mother, meanwhile, had her own form of escape. The affairs started when you were still too young to fully understand, but over time, even your father became aware. They would argue and scream, but the fights eventually gave way to indifference. They had stopped trying to fix anything, stopped pretending they even wanted to.

And then there was you. A silent observer, a helpless child who could only watch as her parents’ marriage fell apart piece by piece. You wondered, even at a young age, what you had done wrong. What could you have done differently? Why did you feel like it was your fault?

It wasn’t uncommon for your mother to slap you when things got particularly tense. Your father, too, had his moments—he would make inappropriate comments about your appearance that left you feeling small, but thank God, it never went beyond that.

Still, you tried so hard to be the perfect daughter, the ideal Christian girl. You volunteered at the church, memorized Bible verses, and always said your prayers, hoping that maybe one day it would be enough. Maybe one day Jesus would answer your prayers and fix what was broken.

But as you stood there in church, surrounded by people who had no idea what your life was really like, you felt tired. Tired of pretending, tired of praying for something that never seemed to come.

“Why don’t you focus, sweetheart?” your mother whispered sharply, her breath hot against your ear as she nudged you with her elbow.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes down. You forced yourself to listen to the priest’s voice, though his words washed over you like water over stone. But the truth lingered, always at the back of your mind.

You prayed every day, but sometimes, even you doubted if anyone was listening.

“We talked about this, Y/N. Pull yourself together,” your mother hissed, her voice sharp as she leaned in close.

Then, just as quickly, her face softened into a warm smile when an elderly woman nearby turned to glance your way. The performance was flawless—an image of maternal grace. But you felt the sting of her words sink in, a quiet reminder of how fragile your role in this family really was.

Your attention drifted back to the priest, Father Charlie, whose voice filled the room with conviction. “…Remember, the Lord hears all cries, even those spoken in silence. He sees every tear and knows every sorrow in your heart,” he said, his tone both soothing and firm.

“And He asks that we carry these burdens with faith, for through Him, we are never alone. We are called to forgive, to love, even when it feels impossible. For if He could forgive us, how can we withhold forgiveness from others?”

Father Charlie had been the priest at your church for a few years now, and in that time, he had become somewhat of an enigma to you. He was young, undeniably handsome, with a presence that was both comforting and mysterious.

His words held weight, and you admired him for the way he commanded the attention of the congregation, always knowing what to say.

You were fond of him—perhaps too fond. But you couldn’t entirely blame yourself for it. The girls at your Christian school were the ones who started the gossip.

You thought back to the way they whispered about him, shamelessly thirsting after him as though he were some untouchable prize.

“Did you know he was a personal trainer before he became a priest?” one of the girls had said, wide-eyed.

“What a waste,” another had added, grinning. “Who wouldn’t want to be with a man like him?”

At first, you found their comments disgusting and inappropriate. You tried to dismiss them as nothing more than vulgar fantasies. But then, despite yourself, the idea of Father Charlie as something other than a priest began to creep into your mind.

You imagined what he might have been like before his vow to the church. Your cheeks flushed as the thought of him—of his strong body and sharp features—set your nerves alight, and soon an embarrassing heat bloomed in your body, spreading across your skin.

You prayed it away. You really did. You asked God for guidance, for the strength to rid yourself of these sinful thoughts.

You even tried to crush on someone more suitable, someone your age, but it never lasted. Your mind always wandered back to Father Charlie, back to his deep voice and the way he seemed to command every room he walked into.

As he continued preaching, your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. For the thousandth time, you marveled at his otherworldly face, the perfect symmetry of his jaw, the way his lips moved as he spoke of forgiveness and grace.

And though you knew better, though you told yourself it was nonsense, you swore you saw something—some glimmer in his eyes when they landed on you.

His gaze lingered, just for a moment, but it was enough to send your heart racing. You shifted uncomfortably in the pew, a wave of guilt and excitement washing over you.

What if he knew?

What if he could sense what you were thinking?

Of course, it was impossible. But each time his eyes flickered in your direction, the thoughts in your head grew louder, more intense, and far more dangerous.

You fought to keep your composure, but it felt like you were unraveling. Even as his voice carried on with words of love and forgiveness, you couldn’t shake the weight of your desires—desires that no prayer seemed capable of silencing.

—

The soft echo of footsteps faded as the last congregants filtered out of the church, leaving behind the lingering scent of incense and the faintest hint of candle wax. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, glancing at your parents as they walked toward the car, your mother’s back rigid, your father’s shoulders slumped. A familiar heaviness settled in your chest.

“Aren’t you coming, dear?” Your mother’s voice sliced through the silence, sharp yet feathered with concern.

“Just a moment. I would like to have a word with Father Charlie... alone,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper, tinged with trepidation.

Your mother narrowed her eyes, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. “Oh dear, I’m sure Father Charlie is quite a busy man. You shouldn’t be bothering him with... pointless nonsense.” Her forced smile did little to mask her annoyance.

“Mother, I—”

A throat cleared nearby, interrupting you. You both turned to see Father Charlie standing there, his friendly smile disarming and warm.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his voice a soothing balm. “I am here to listen to everyone’s worries and thoughts. It is a part of my calling.”

Your mother opened her mouth to protest, but Father Charlie cut her off effortlessly. “I assure you I am more than glad to help your daughter with whatever it is.” His gaze shifted to you, filled with an understanding that made your heart flutter.

After a moment of tense silence, your mother relented, though it was clear she was not pleased. “Well, alright. We’ll be waiting with your father in the car. Don’t take too long.” Her words dripped with coldness as she turned to leave, casting one last accusatory glance your way.

“Yes, Mother,” you murmured, your heart pounding.

“Father Charlie,” she nodded, the tone of her voice suggesting she was dismissing him more than acknowledging him. He smiled again, the kind of smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“I hope to see you soon, Ms. Y/L/N,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

As the heavy doors of the church swung shut behind your mother, a sigh escaped your lips, heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Father Charlie chuckled softly, the sound like music—a melody far more pleasant than the hymns that had echoed just moments ago. “She is quite the figure,” he observed, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Oh, that she is…” you muttered, the embarrassment creeping into your cheeks.

“Come, walk with me.” He gestured down the long aisle, and you fell into step beside him, your heart racing as you moved past the rows of empty pews. The church felt different now, as if it were just the two of you in a sacred, intimate space.

For a few moments, silence enveloped you both. The quiet was comfortable, yet heavy with anticipation. Then, Father Charlie broke the stillness. “I don’t mean to rush you, but why did you wish to speak with me?” His voice was gentle, with a hint of curiosity.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat, feeling more vulnerable than ever. “I—um…” The embarrassment was suffocating.

“It’s alright. No need to rush. Take your time,” he encouraged, his gaze unwavering, offering a safe harbor in the storm of your thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart. “Well, I’ve been having some... inadequate thoughts about certain things... and aspects of my life. I’ve tried to pray about it, but it doesn’t seem to help.” The confession spilled out, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing heavily on your chest.

Father Charlie nodded, his expression one of understanding. “That is understandable. Sometimes it is hard for us to connect with the Lord. Temptation is not an easy thing to deal with.” He paused, a shadow crossing his features as if battling something within himself.

“And resisting sin is certainly…” He faltered, the words hanging in the air, unfinished.

“Perhaps coming to a confessional could help?” he suggested, tilting his head slightly, his eyes glinting with a mix of warmth and something else—something deeper.

The thought of confession made your stomach churn, but you felt drawn to him, the connection between you sparking with unexpected intensity. “I don’t know if that’s what I need…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Sometimes, sharing our burdens can lighten the load we carry. It’s a safe space, a chance to speak freely. I’m here for you,” he assured, his tone steady and inviting.

You looked up at him, caught in the sincerity of his gaze. “It just feels... wrong, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to be the perfect daughter, the perfect Christian. But I keep failing.”

A flicker of something akin to sympathy crossed his features. “It’s not about perfection, Y/N. We all have our struggles. It’s part of being human. What matters is the intention behind our actions and the effort to seek forgiveness.”

His words resonated within you, echoing the very truths you had been grappling with. “But what if my intentions are... inappropriate?” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Father Charlie stepped a bit closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm embrace. “We all have thoughts that we may not be proud of. It’s what we do with those thoughts that defines us. Have you spoken to anyone about this before?”

You shook your head, feeling exposed. “No, I’ve kept it all inside. I’m afraid of what they might think—especially my mother.”

“Your mother may not understand, but that doesn’t mean you should suffer in silence. You deserve to express your feelings.” His voice was firm, yet tender, grounding you in the moment.

“Do you really think so?” you asked, searching his eyes for reassurance.

“I know so,” he replied, a soft smile breaking across his face. “You are not alone. I’m here, and I’m listening.”

A warmth blossomed in your chest at his words, filling the void of loneliness that had settled within you for so long. “Thank you, Father Charlie,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, a sound that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “It’s my calling to help. You’re brave for reaching out; that’s a step in the right direction.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, the weight of your worries still pressing down but feeling a little lighter. “I just wish I could find a way to... reconcile what I feel with my faith.”

Father Charlie nodded, his expression serious yet encouraging. “That’s a journey many embark on, and it’s not always straightforward. But I believe that through honesty—both with yourself and with God—you can find a path that feels right for you.”

His words hung in the air, resonating within you. “But how do I begin?”

“Perhaps we can start with confession. It’s a way to unburden yourself—an opportunity to speak openly without fear of judgment. I would be honored to guide you through it.”

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying. “I’ve never done that before,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly.

“It’s perfectly alright. Everyone starts somewhere. Just remember, it’s a safe space,” he reassured, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on you. “Okay... I’ll think about it.”

Father Charlie’s smile widened, a genuine warmth emanating from him. “That’s all I ask. Just take your time.”

You felt a sudden rush of emotions, a mixture of gratitude, fear, and something akin to hope. “Thank you, Father. For listening, for understanding.”

“It’s my pleasure, Y/N,” he replied softly. “Remember, you are not alone in this.”

The moment felt suspended in time, an electric charge hanging in the air between you. You were acutely aware of his presence, the way he seemed to draw you in, making the world outside fade away.

But reality came crashing back as you glanced toward the church doors, where the shadows of your parents loomed. “I should go,” you said reluctantly, the weight of the outside world pressing back in.

“Of course,” he said, his tone understanding, yet a hint of disappointment lingered in his eyes.

As you turned to leave, you felt a sudden urge to say more, to linger in that moment just a little longer. “Father Charlie?”

“Yes?” He looked at you, his expression expectant.

“Can I—can I come back and talk to you again?”

“Anytime, Y/N. My door is always open for you.”

You nodded, a small smile breaking through the uncertainty. “Thank you.”

With one last glance, you stepped toward the heavy doors, your heart racing with the thrill of what you had just shared. As you pushed them open, the sunlight flooded in, illuminating the path ahead.

“See you soon, Y/N,” Father Charlie called after you, his voice wrapping around you like a promise.

You took a deep breath, feeling lighter as you stepped outside, the echoes of your conversation lingering in your mind. The conflict within you still simmered, but for the first time in a long while, you felt a spark of hope.

As you made your way to the car, your mother’s cold gaze met yours, but you held your head high. You were beginning to understand that seeking guidance, even from a handsome priest who stirred feelings you never knew you could possess, was a step toward finding your own truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, you were on the brink of discovering a deeper connection to both your faith and yourself.

© COPYRIGHT BELQVA 2024

SHARING THIS, ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS OR A TRANSLATION OF THEM WITHOUT CONSENT ON THIS OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN !!!

THE PLOT OF GROTESQUERIE OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS EXCEPT FOR THE ONES I CREATED DO NOT BELONG TO ME THIS IS JUST A WORK OF FANFICTION !!!

tags:

[daceydeath]

Only Ours

Pairing: Vampire Matz x F Reader Word Count: 2.4K Genre: Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities

Your impossibly persuasive lovers feel the need to remind you where you belong.

a/n: This all came because I read a post from an Atiny (I cant remember who exactly) who said they loved the idea of vampire Matz taking very good care of their blood bag which of course got lodged in my brain and turned into this....So thank her if you find her this is all because of her.

It wasn’t that you wanted to make Hongjoong angry or make Seonghwa worry but it had been so long since you had felt the sun on your skin and you had missed it, but the incident that it had caused was not worth the trouble you had gone to to sneak out without either of them knowing in the first place. You had taken only one of their pages with you for company and help thinking that if you made sure to dress plainly you would easily blend in with the crowds of people that lingered in the city during the day.

“You know you are not allowed out there without us, you know this, those fuckers see you as nothing more than our blood bag and will do whatever it takes to hurt us through hurting you” Hongjoong growled, leaning against your bedroom door frame to watch you with darkness swimming behind his eyes and his fangs caught on his bottom lip. He had kept his distance from you from the moment that Yechan had brought you back inside, blood oozing from the cuts on your arms and face covered in smeared drying blood from the deep laceration under your left eye and split lip. His rage flowed from him in waves filling your room with a heaviness that scared you more than the men who had tried to hurt you. “They could have killed you, do you not even use that brain in your pretty little head?”.

“Joong, stop. Our princess is scared and I’m sure she is sorry” Seonghwa sighed looking at him in a way you knew meant they were speaking to each other in a way that was otherworldly and way beyond your mere human abilities. He turned back to you taking your hand in his carefully to prevent any sort of further injury although you knew he would never cause you pain.

“Is it just wounds to your arms and face, princess? Did they hurt you anywhere else?” His soft dark eyes were swimming with concern as he watched one of the house maids help clean your skin from blood and check you over from where you were perched on the edge of your bed in your underwear. The scratches he could fix, cuts he could heal but if they had touched you he would let Hongjoong murder every man within a 100 mile radius.

“No Hwa, my back is sore and my arms and face that’s all. I swear” you whispered shakily, tears swimming in your eyes with the fear of how they were reacting, it was always Jekyll and Hyde with them, one sweet and loving and one harsh and almost cruel and they would switch roles depending on their whim at the time.

“Hush princess” Seonghwa soothed cupping the side of your face as you sat up to show your back to the maid, you had long shed your embarrassment at being half dressed or even naked in front of the house staff, they never judged you or the wounds that you would occasionally be sporting when they came to serve your meals or help bathe you.    

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” you whimpered, looking down at your hands as the maid departed the room and Hongjoong slammed the door so hard behind her that it splintered against the frame.

“You will be when I force you to watch me drain that page in front of you” Hongjoong spat coldly striding towards you already pulling the sleeve of his shirt up to get to his wrist, he grabbed your chin roughly with the other hand his eyes piercing through you as he bit into his own wrist and pressed it to your lips forcing you to drink. His grip on you was bruising but you knew that you had to endure it there was no way you could stop him from doing whatever he pleased with you. The bitter metallic liquid slipped down your throat staining your lips as he sharply pulled it away from you again, the wound healing instantly. 

“Please don’t hurt him, Joongie” you cried softly, your tears finally spilling down your cheeks in large fat drops “He’s only a child, he didn’t know any better”.

“He did call Sumin, Jinsik and Minjae when he sensed they were in trouble, and managed to get footage of the ones who dared touch her, so he would be worth keeping around” Seonghwa raised his eyebrows at him knowing that Hongjoong was probably not as angry as he was behaving he was more likely just worried and acting up to make his point. Hongjoon made another angry noise from the back of his throat before stalking from the room and slamming that door a second time, this time breaking it from its hinges completely.

You watched your arms as you felt the warmth of Hongjoong’s blood begin to spread throughout your body forcing your skin to knit back together and heal flawlessly leaving not a trace of the injuries that had been there only moments ago.

“How do you feel princess?” Seonghwa asked, his voice laced with softness and love as he pulled you to your feet gently and lowered his head to kiss your cheek.

“I’m scared Joongie hates me” you whined lowly once again looking towards the floor “I’m scared you’re angry with me”.

“Oh princess, I’m angry that anyone would hurt you, I’m sad that you thought you had to sneak away from us but I am not mad at you my love” he explained, chuckling as your head shot up to look at his face you eyes wide and confused “my pretty love” he murmured pressing his lips lightly to yours allowing you to move away if you wanted to, when you didn’t he pulled you into him tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue probed at the seam of your lips to get access to your own, which you gave instantly so he could claim your mouth fully licking into you and massaging your tongue with his. Without warning he picked you up effortlessly, his mouth still attached to yours pressing you against the wall beside your bed. Wrapping your legs around him he pressed his already half hard length against your core making you gasp.

“Hwa” you whimpered breathlessly, as he continued to grind himself against you, his lips now against your throat as you felt his fangs begin to come in and prick against your skin making you shudder in his arms.

“Will you let me?” he groaned, reaching for the satin that separated you from him, tearing it away in a sharp tug, his fingers not waiting for your words before he began rubbing them through your folds to collect your nectar “I know what tasting our blood does to you princess”.

“Please” you begged softly, “please Hwa”. His deep chuckle vibrated through his chest and into you making you press yourself against him further.

“With pleasure princess” his whispered his voice deeper than before as the black that was usually hidden by the brown of his eyes took over, his lips pressed back to your neck this time sinking his teeth into the side of your throat the initial sting washed away by the feeling of him impaling you on his cock. The stretch of your walls as he bottomed out within you making your head spin as he relentlessly began snapping his hips into yours as he drank from you.

“Seonghwa” you moaned loudly, you could do little but claw at him and be enveloped by his scent, the feeling of him surrounding you and filling you was too much for you to keep yourself quiet, his need for you filling your lungs as you breathed him in.

“Looks like you’re having fun” Hongjoong drawled from the doorway stepping over the splintered wood that he had caused earlier. “I thought we were punishing her Seonghwa yet here I find you fucking her senseless”. Seonghwa’s hips stopped as soon as he heard Hongjoongs voice, slowly retracting his teeth from your neck, allowing your blood to trickle from the wounds down your chest and between your still covered breasts. 

“You wanted to punish her Hongjoong” Seonghwa grumbled. “I want to remind her who she belongs to” licking the blood that was now staining your bra. He smirked against your skin before slowly moving his hips against languidly thrusting into you just enough to make you sigh with pleasure and annoy his counterpart. You heard Hongjoong click his tongue no doubt rolling his eyes as Seonghwa as he continued to keep you unable to focus on them properly too and more concerned with the cock that was filling you so well.

“And who does she belong to Seonghwa?” Hongjoong’s honeyed voice filled your ears as you tried to look past Seonghwa towards him, his blood compelling you to be near him.

“Me and of course you” Seonghwa wrinkled his nose moving you away from the wall but keeping his cock buried deeply inside you. He lowered you to the bed finally pulling his length from you making you pout and whine quietly. 

“Lay down Hwa, let me see her ride you” Hongjoong instructed casually knowing that you would follow his every command, Seonghwa nodded and undressed himself laying in the middle of your bed his hard length wet and leaking from how hard he had already been fucking you. Hongjoong took your chin in his fingers, kissing you sensually “Up you get princess, ride Hwa for me, show me how much you love his cock inside you”.

You crawled over Seonghwa without hesitation lowering yourself down on him slowly, giving Hongjoong a little show of you taking each and every inch of Seonghwa’s cock mewling as you seated your hips flush against his. Planting your hands on his abs to steady yourself you began to move slowly rolling your hips to adjust to him again making sure you got the angle just right so that when he inevitably took over from you he would be hitting exactly where you needed him. Too lost in the soft grunts and breathy moans that Seonghwa was making you didn’t even notice that Hongjoong had begun undressing of that he was watching just how wet you were from his spot behind you on the bed until his fingers began stroking your glistening folds around where you were already stretching around Seonghwa.

“Joongie” you gasped unsure what he was planning “I…” Seonghwa cut you off by kissing you against his tongue tangling with yours as Hongjoong lapped at the drying blood on your neck.

“Let us have you baby” Hongjoong purred, while you continued to ride Seonghwa at the lazy pace he had started when Hongjoong entered the room, you couldn’t see whatever they were communicating to each other but when Seonghwa slowly pulled out of you, you couldn’t help the whimpered protest that left your throat leaving them both smirking at your neediness. “Don’t worry princess, you can have him back in just a second”.

The two sets of hands that moved you exactly where they wanted were careful despite their obvious strength positioned you on your knees straddling Seonghwa’s lap letting you enthusiastically sink back down on his cock making you groan softly his lips finding your throat where he had previously drank from you, sinking his fangs back in and making you arch your back in pleasure.

“Good girl princess” Hongjoong muttered against the other side of your throat forward, your brain was still too hazy to register that Hongjoong was positioning himself behind you, his throbbing tip pressed against you but as he pushed himself against your already stretched entrance his sunk his own teeth into you causing you to cry out as the pair of them stretched you open so far that the pain mixed with the pleasure of having them both inside you. Moving slowly they felt your muscles loosen up slightly the more they drank your body reacting to them exactly how they wanted. Hongjoong started snapping his hips harder, forcing you to bounce on Seonghwa as he held your hips still tightly, his fingertips no doubt leaving marks in your flesh. Seonghwa was longer, the tip of his cock almost kissing your cervix, while Hongjoong was thicker and angled himself perfectly to catch against the mushroom tip of Seonghwa to press perfectly against the spot that made you see stars.

“Fuck princess, so good” Songhhwa moaned loudly finally pulling his mouth from you to kiss you again.

“Hwa, Hwa, fuck Joongie” you cried their names the only thing you could really remember as each vein and ridge of there cocks slid against your fluttering walls. 

“That’s it my love, take us both in that tight little hole” he smirked watching your eyes roll back in your head feeling another wave of your slick coated his cock and dripping out of you. 

“Joongie” you sobbed as he thrust his harder against your arse as you felt the knot building in your core start to unravel “Joongie��ahh…agh”.

“You going to cum on our cocks baby? Sucking us in so deep, need us to fill you up? ” Hongjoong grinned devilishly against you, licking the blood flowing from your punctured neck. Your vision started to go dark as you felt molten fire fill your veins as you unraveled around them. You screamed helplessly before slumping against Seonghwa’s chest, feeling them both begin to thrust desperately into your abused hole.

“Fuck” Seonghwa growled deeply the sound reverberating through his chest and into yours as you felt him flood your walls with his seed sloppily continuing to move his hips to ride out his own pleasure.

“Shit” Hongjoong roared following the pair of you into his own orgasm, thick ropes of his own cum filling you and dripping out of you as you panted between their sweat covered chests. 

Painfully slowly Hongjoong pulled himself from you and took you in his arms, helping you from Seonghwa’s lap and allowing you to lay bonelessly against the sheets. Brushing the hair from your forehead as he kissed you chastely.

“Here princess” Seonghwa whispered, placing something wet against your lips, you opened your mouth obediently allowing his blood to coat your tongue “We were a little too hard on you my love”. Your eyes came back into focus to see them both looking sheepish with bloodstains smeared across their chests.

“What happened?” you blinked confused concern spiking in your heart.

“Shhh princess” Hongjoong murmured, motioning for Seonghwa to join in your cuddling “We may have drained you a little too much, we will have to feed you over the next few hours to make sure you don’t get sick baby”.

 “Love you Hongjoong, Love you Seonghwa” you mumbled, closing your eyes again and enjoying their embrace until you couldn’t keep yourself from falling asleep.

a/n: Thank you for reading my loves and thank you for all your likes, reblogs, comments and encouragement. I love you all to bits xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16

@fawnpeaks @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

[shotoh]

— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[hwangism143]

battleground

synopsis: you hated your co-president, kim seungmin. but, it's your last year of high school and prom planning is up to the two of you. you just expect getting work done and leaving school. what you don't expect however, is kim seungmin looking after you (considering you never do) and you coaxing him into being your prom date.

pairing: non-idol!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: academic rival to lovers, crack, fluff, high school au, angst if you squint

warnings: swearing, mentions of eating, mentions of fatigue and fainting, sickness and overworking, slight themes of stalking, panic attack but not mentioned as such, mentions of alcohol, overconsumption of alcohol, a shit ton of pop culture references (i'm sorry)

word count: 21k words (?!)

requested by: @starlostseungmin (hi kaisey ily)

playlist: gorgeous - taylor swift, true love - p!nk, CHILL - stray kids, make you mine - madison beer, teenage dream - katy perry

a/n: real life men are better of as just enemies. my fictional rendition of seungmin, however, is not. (also i hope it isn't obvious that i have never been to prom.)

"you ruined my life, by not being mine"

"Was that an attempt of trying to flirt with me? Cause, wow, you need to step your game up," Seungmin told you with a smirk.

Sunlight streamed through the library windows, illuminating the dust that covered the bookshelves. They were proof of the lack of visits to the old haven of knowledge. Settled in an armchair was Kim Seungmin, book in one hand, glasses slightly crooked and one legged propped upon the other.

You let out a puff of breath in an attempt to calm yourself down because, who did he even think he was? "No, Kim, it wasn't. I am literally a teenage girl and yet, you are the most delusional person I have ever meet," you spit out, "The principal's calling us. Let's go."

"Alright, fine," Seungmin responded lazily. He stretched his long limbs and got up from the armchair he was cozily tucked up in.

He joined you on your walk towards the principal's office while you told off whatever force was above that caused you to be walking to impeding doom with Kim Seungmin on a Friday morning.

You both had a bitter rivalry that began your first year in high school. Coinciding with the fact that the said high school was also a boarding school, there was no escaping Seungmin. You couldn't even pinpoint when your feelings towards him changed from indifference to animosity; but having been pitted against each other for all your academic life at Park Academy, it certainly did make sense.

It wasn't that you didn't respect Seungmin. He was good at everything he did and a worthy opponent in all your endeavors. But he just made it so difficult for you to like him.

Your already dysfunctional relationship with him only took a turn for the worse this high school senior year. Both of you had decided to run for student council president. Despite all the campaigning and emotional blackmailing, you both had tied for the position.

Your incredible school, instead of holding a tie-breaker, deciding to make you both student council presidents. The idea of writing 'student council co-president' on your college applications physically made you wince.

But the worst part? Seungmin and you actually worked really well together. Deciding to keep your rivalry out of anything student council related on your first session (the banter continued though, nothing could take that away), you both had built up one of the best councils the school had seen under your shared leadership.

You didn't know just how well you both would get along when it came to matters as such, but that didn't lead to either of you warming up to each other. Conversation between you both strictly consisted of official matters and jabs at each other.

In fact, you hated each other's presence so much that you both almost instantly decided on splitting responsibilities to avoid running into each other. Oddly enough, you both seemed to agree on a lot of things. You always just brushed it off with a, great minds think alike.

Not that you would ever confess to Seungmin that you considered him to be someone with a 'great mind'.

The both of you walked towards the principal's office in silence. When you eventually got there, the receptionist quickly ushered you both inside. You smoothed down your skirt and sat down with your hands in you lap. Beside you, you noticed Seungmin drape his blazer over the back of his chair and take a seat.

Your principal was on a call and winked at the both of you, pointing towards the phone and turning her finger around in a circle near her temple. Seungmin flashed her a strained smile while you hoped that the expression of judgment on your face wasn't obvious.

For some reason, Principal Kim thought that she was your friend. When she finally put the phone down, she snorted, "Superintendents, am I right?"

Seungmin and you laughed weakly in response. Principals, am I right? was the phrase you were currently trying very hard to bite back.

Coming closer, Principal Kim laced her fingers together and leaned onto the table. "As you both know," she began, "We have around five months till prom."

A buzzing grew in your stomach, excitement engulfing your senses. Prom. Your sole respite, the event that you had looked forward to your entire high school life. From watching Disney movies romanticizing prom at a young age, to subsequently moving onto books that did the same, you felt like prom would be the pinnacle of your time in school.

"Now," continued Principal Kim, "While I do know that you both have a tendency to work separately, I would like you both to chair the prom committee together this year. We are thinking of making this year's prom one of Park Academy's finest. Take your time and compile the best Prom committee you can and get started on everything."

She clapped her hand and leaned back, beaming at her best students. "That is all," she smiled softly, nudging a tray of toffees towards you both.

Seungmin looked mortified at the thought of eating something from the principal's office like he was six. In any other circumstance you would have too, but the giddiness of both prom planning and not having had anything for over twenty four hours compelled you to take one.

"Aren't you excited?" you asked Seungmin as you both walked out of the door.

You were opening the toffee wrapper when he responded with a curt, "No. I personally believe that prom is a waste of time. I'll help in the committee planning and be present if I need to, but you can rightfully assume that I will not be enjoying any of it."

You were slightly shocked at his response but responded with a scathing, "I didn't know that the Kim Seungmin was too high and haughty for prom."

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to make eye contact with you. "Prom is like a playground for bullies and confused teenagers. It's a battleground for snarky comments and raging hormones and, might I add, brings out the worst in people."

He quickly turned on his heel and walked away before you could utter a word. You slowly let out a deep breath to control you anger and headed in the same direction as him, towards the cafeteria. You can hear the chatter of students and the sudden influx of sound momentarily causes your world to spin.

You're leaning against one of the lockers trying to steady yourself when feel an arm around your waist hoisting you up.

Hyunjin clicked beside you in disappointment. "Don't make me start feeding you now."

You just sighed in response and leaned your head against his shoulders. He was right, of course. You had the horrible habit of putting your health second (to last) with regards to anything that had to do with university and getting in. One of those things was skipping meals in favor of studying.

"I don't understand how people who sleep eight hours a day get shit done," you whined against Hyunjin.

"Well, has it ever occurred to you that people usually don't have as much shit to do as you do?" your best friend responded wisely. You lightly tapped the side of your sneaker against his.

Hwang Hyunjin was practically your brother in every aspect possible. He was lovable, caring, annoying and wanted to make you rip your hair out. All of this was what you assumed having a sibling was like, being an only child yourself. Ironically, he was one too.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You first met Hyunjin during an art class that you had to take for your first week of school. You struggled with drawing a straight line, while embarrassingly using a ruler. He was sitting beside you and calmly sketched one of the most incredible monochromatic landscapes you had ever seen.

When fourteen-year old Hyunjin gave your drawing a practically dangerous side eye and when you looked at him with eyes pleading to help you, the foundation of your friendship was laid. Later, when you handed him half a Snickers bar as a means of saying 'thank you', your friendship was cemented in chocolate and pencil shavings.

You both were joined at the hip ever since.

Your other best friend, Jeongin, had a habit of seemingly materializing out of nowhere and startling you in the process.

"Hi," he said, his face spawning in front of yours.

His wild hair and crazed smile caused you to yelp in surprise and hit your arm against the water fountain. Hyunjin laughed at your misfortune while Jeongin apologized with an extremely unapologetic smile. You resorted to glaring at both of them.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The story of how Jeongin turned your duo into your trio was a tale in itself. Jeongin was a year younger than you and Hyunjin, currently a junior. You had first spotted him on his first day of school, him waddling around like a lost duckling and you unwittingly (and unwillingly) taking on the role of a mother hen.

Hyunjin had seen young Jeongin standing in the crowd, desperately trying to act cool. Jeongin's shoes were a painful pattern of key lime and hot pink that most definitely did not match together. He wore an oversized jacket and sent a small nod towards everyone who looked his way, hands jammed in his jeans pocket.

"That one," Hyunjin declared while dragging you along with him, "We're adopting that one."

And so two became three.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Presently, you scoffed at Jeongin. "How did you even become student council vice president?"

Jeongin beamed at you, counting off his fingers as he listed of his campaigning winning qualities. "I'm hot, rich, smart and funny."

Hyunjin snorted in response, him on one side of you and Jeongin on the other. "Innie, you are several things but smart is not one of them."

You were compelled to nod in response as Jeongin responded with a gasp, "You too? How could you betray me as well."

You would have issued a sarcastic reply to what he said, but you were too distracted by Hyunjin being distracted. He had suddenly stood still at the entryway of cafeteria, staring at something in the distance.

When you followed his line of sight, you suppressed the urge to burst out into laughter. Jeongin, however, did not.

"Gosh Hyunjin," he wheezed between laughs, "Just ask Riya out. Watching you suffer in this down bad, unspoken friend zoned phase is pitiful."

Hyunjin had been in love with Riya Rai for well over two years. You could obviously tell why; she was gorgeous, smart and a part of Hyunjin's dance class. You were truly rooting for them to start dating, Riya being one of your roommates.

You still remembered the way Hyunjin gushed over her classical dance audition. ('I couldn't understand the words but it was like she was flying!') Jeongin too, was subject to Hyunjin's hopeless love for her. Being the kind of person Hyunjin was, he fell for her hard and deep.

You were happy for Hyunjin, you truly were. But a part of you longed to feel a love like that for somebody. Not even a relationship, just feel love dripping into your heart until it rushed in like a torrent.

You were always so busy with proving yourself to others, that you never really took the time to introspect your own desires.

"Hyunjin," you asked impatiently once you remembered what exactly you wanted to talk about.

"Hm?" he responded as you both grabbed your food and sat at a table with your regular friend group.

Riya slid in beside Hyunjin and you could feel him visibly tense. You couldn't understand why he was so nervous to profess his feelings for her. Any girl (apart from you, because ew) would be willing to date Hyunjin.

Riya brightly made her pleasantries after which you asked solemnly, "Guys. Would you do me the honor of being part of the prom planning committee?"

Riya and Hyunjin were the few people who shared the enthusiasm for prom which you did. Riya mouth slowly hung open while Hyunjin sharply took in a breath.

"Really?" he whispered in awe.

You nodded happily as Hyunjin hugged you from one side and Riya clambered over to where you were sitting to wrap her arms around you. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," she repeated like a chant while Hyunjin excitedly began plotting décor ideas.

Maybe you wouldn't need romantic love while you had them.

You were busy people watching and tuning out Riya and Hyunjin's enthusiastic chatter when you caught site of Seungmin. He was sitting with his best friend, Lee Felix. You found their friendship quite odd. How could the embodiment of happiness be so close with the devils spawn?

I guess opposites attract platonically too.

You lamented at the thought of co-heading a prom committee with a partner who hated prom until an idea struck you. If Kim Seungmin hated prom, you could teach him how to love it. That lunch break, you made an executive decision that, unbeknown to you, would inevitably change you life.

You decided to open Kim Seungmin's eyes to the brilliance of prom.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - five months.

Seungmin stood next to you as you both waited for the rest of the student council members to make their way for your impromptu Saturday meeting. The two of you stared up at one of the most monstrous things you had ever seen in your lives.

A large banner with a blue background and the words "T-5 MONTHS TILL PROM!!!" in an ugly orange text stared back at you.

You gaped at the banner, seething with anger. "Let me find the person whose amazing idea this was and rearrange their body proportions for them."

Seungmin just responded calmly, "Maybe this is a sign from the universe to get our act together, delegate responsibilities to the committee and actually get started on prom."

"Not all of us are as optimistic as you, Kim," you told him dryly.

"Not all of us have an insatiable bloodlust, candy cane," he retorted monotonously.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you turned to see Seungmin's eyebrow cocked in a persumed sense of superiority.

You despised the nickname, a knowing jab at your short stature. Seungmin first called you candy cane when he noted how your height was nearly equivalent to the candy canes lining your school halls in your junior year.

It had stuck when you both were privately conversing with each other ever since.

His indifference slightly bristled you, but then again you were known for having a slightly short temper.

Chatter flowed in through the library's door, accompanied by the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor. People who you and Seungmin had individually contacted, along with most student council members, began entering the room.

You noticed Hyunjin making his way to sit next to Riya, who was busy in conversation with Felix. The three of them were known for being close due to dance club. You shot Hyunjin an encouraging smile and he gave you a slightly crooked one.

Jeongin bounded up to the front to assume his rightful place as vice president. You ruffled his hair and he pinched your arm in retaliation. Your little squeal and his irritated grunt earning an annoyed look from Seungmin.

He cleared his throat loudly, instantly commanding the attention of the entire room. Faces turned to look at him when his voice called out, "I hope you all know why we have gathered here today."

He turned to look at you, your cue to begin talking. "As you may be aware, you all have been selected as this year's Park Academy Prom Committee!"

The room burst into applause as Seungmin continued, a routine familiar to you both. You didn't know how the two of you did it. Without even prior conversation, you two fell into sync when it came to addressing the crowd in front of you for your co-lead student council meetings.

Once again you chalked it up to, great minds think alike. There was no way you and Seungmin had anything else in common, apart from the occasional train of thought.

Right?

When your long sermon was finally finished, the room was buzzing with excitement. Teenage hormones and the onset of prom brewed a recipe for eager anticipation. This is it, you thought, this is the last piece of my childhood I have left.

On the advice of Principal Kim, you and Seungmin split the overall committee into three groups: one for decorations, one for publicity and one to arrange entertainment.

Jeongin had proclaimed himself the 'god of social media' and sauntered off to the group in charge of publicity. Hyunjin, Riya and Felix automatically were presumed to be part of décor, with Hyunjin elected head of their group. ('I will not let my team down. Over my dead fucking body,' he told you in complete seriousness later that day.)

Finally, you and Seungmin were left handling booking and anything else payment and transaction related. Principal Kim's vehement repetition of how she only trusted the two of you with cash was seared into your brain.

As you both took rounds of the large library hall, something kept nagging at you, itching the back of your brain. It disheartened you to see how warmly everyone interacted with Seungmin in comparison with you.

What bothered you even more, however, was how warmly Seungmin, interacted with others when compared to you.

Being likable was one of, if not the biggest goal in your life. Knowing that a single person disliked you sent you into a frenzy. Call it your upbringing or society, either way you felt like everybody you knew had to find you to be a good person, or else you weren't.

Other people's opinions were like medicine to you. Gaining external validation became such a large part of your life that sometimes, you forgot that what you thought, what you wanted, mattered as well.

And in this draining people-pleasing process, you weren't quite 'friends' with everyone. You were friendly and appreciated among your students, yes. But you didn't have a large friend group full of people who cherished your very existence, like Seungmin.

That was probably why you called Hyunjin and Jeongin were your best friends. It took away from the fact that they were your only friends. Seeing them with their own, other friends hurt, but it was too late now.

There was no point making more friends when you would be gone anyways. And despite how much you wanted to, you knew that creating deeper connections only to break them away would prove pointless.

You and Seungmin settled into the small bean bag pods which were propped up against the empty library walls. He scrolled through his phone with utmost concentration as you did the same, tapping away at your laptop keys.

"We'll have to sit with Lily for planning the budget," Seungmin broke the silence while referring to the committee treasurer, "But she has texted me the overall amount we have in the trust."

Seungmin opened the message and angled his phone towards you, eliciting a gasp from your mouth.

"That is an insane amount. Do you know what this means? We truly can make this Park Academy's best prom yet!" you excitedly began listing off the non-existent limits to which the money could spent.

"You forgot something," Seungmin added, stunning you to silence. What could have you forgotten about prom which Seungmin could have remembered?

The stoic expression on his face, however, told you it was nothing good.

"We need to show extreme constraint while using the money and be strict on the group," Seungmin huffed.

You blew in anger, "The entire point of having an extensive budget is to let loose! God, you're like the Grinch of prom or something."

"Please sweetheart," he snorted, "I'm far better looking than him. Even you can't deny that."

And as infuriating Seungmin seemed to you, he was correct. Seungmin was drop dead gorgeous. Even in a plain school uniform, he had the power to turn several heads. In fact, you would be lying if you said that you didn't find him a teensy bit attractive.

Not that he would ever obtain that information.

Seungmin went back to work, looking for banquet halls and hotels open to being the venue for prom. You observed him carefully, trying to figure the psychology behind why he hated prom. Then, you realized that to to succeed in your mission, you didn't have too.

The Grinch fell in love with Christmas too...

"I have made an executive decision," you announced to no one but Seungmin in particular.

He looked up, an expression of boredom and confusion coating his features.

"How exactly, darling, did you take an executive decision without consulting half of the executive. I thought you were smart enough to know how decision making takes place," a smug smile adorned him.

You rolled your eyes at him, "I will make you like prom."

Seungmin scoffed, "As if. You know what, Y/N? I bet you can't."

You sighed in fake defeat, cheering inside. One thing about having an academic rival was predicting their moves to the point where you knew how to trap them. It was like a game of chess, where Seungmin thought he had the upper hand, but you were one move away from checkmate.

You understood what made Seungmin tick, what ignited passion in him and what triggered him. You knew how to get a rise out of him and get him to calm down. More terrifyingly so, you knew that he knew the same.

You likened it to years of shared dislike, denying the fact that you both maybe were alike.

"I mean, considering our role in the entire organization of prom, we'll be stuck together all night anyways," you lamented in disappointment, "Truthfully speaking, I honestly did expect you to decline my invitation to formally attend prom with me as my de facto date."

"Although I wasn't planning on calling you that," you included for good measure.

You decided to deviate from telling him the real reason why you wanted to take him to prom. Out of everyone in this school, Seungmin was the last person left whose good books you didn't have so much as a footnote in.

You knew that this little social experiment of yours to leave school with everyone singing praises about you was highly selfish, but you needed this to feel worthy of graduating. You needed this to feel worthy of being a part of a social communities.

You could practically see the anger teeming from Seungmin at proving you right. "Fine," he spit out, "I'll be your date."

Checkmate.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - four months and 16 days.

With final assessments right around the corner, physical committee meetings came to a halt. All conversations took place through group chats and the occasional locker meetups. In all the frenzy of studying, you were once again indulging in sleepless nights and nutrition-less days.

Seungmin had gone into hibernation mode and as had you. All your phones were on do not disturb and casual fun was out of the question. Today, you had taken release in the library, headphones on and coffee in hand.

You were (pathetically, to some, advantageously, to you) on a first name basis with the resident librarian. Because of you often staying late nights (correction: all night) in the library, you even had your own spare key to lock up when you were done. It was a little secret you both shared.

Today, however, you felt uneasy. A transfer student by the name of Benji had been unceasingly making romantic advances towards you the past week. Although you reject him multiple times, his feats of grandeur only grew.

He was currently sitting a few tables away from you, the only other person in the library apart from librarian Kang. Even though he attempted to look busy and engrossed in the book in his hand, he kept stealing glances from you.

It was late, very much so. Everybody would be asleep and you didn't want to disturb anyone. You calmed your nerves but reached your breaking point when Kang asked Benji if he planned to leave anytime soon and he refused.

In a state of both fear and fatigue, you dialed the number of the only person who you knew would be awake at this time and waited for the call to ring out.

"Hello?" came Seungmin's bewildered voice. You rarely called him and even then, never at this hour.

"Seungmin, hi. I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?" you asked him, hoping to suppress the  anxiety in your voice.

He must have noticed though, because his voice was alert. "Sure, what's up?"

"You know how Benji has been treating me, right?"

He hummed in acknowledgement. Of course he knew. Benji boasted so much that everyone knew.

"Well, I'm in the library and so is he. He's the only one here and it's kinda freaking me out. If it's ok with you, can you please just stay on call with me just in case? You can put me on hold or something, just please be active. I'm really sorry but you're the only other person who I knew would be awake right now."

You heard rustling in the background and his voice finally came back, "Wait. My dorm is loud anyways so I'll meet you there."

"Oh, okay, okay."

To your extreme relief, Seungmin did not hang up the call. Instead, you could hear his footsteps. All the mundane sounds of him locking his dorm, shoes slapping against the concrete and heavy breathing (due to running, but that didn't make sense) oddly calmed you down.

That was, however, until Benji walked over to where you were sitting. He gave you a venomous smile and leaned over to books right above your head. Pulling out a book from the shelf above your head and walked away, something sharp glinting in his hand.

You breathing quickened. "Seungmin, he has a sharp object. I have assessed all possible escape routes. I would suggest that you leave as I will probably as well if the situation escalates."

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" he questioned, almost sounding angry that you had even thought of saying something like that.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him or giving him an opportunity to fuck with the students of this school. He may be here for only two weeks, but I'll make sure he doesn't hurt a single person."

The steel in his voice made you shudder. You did not want to be on Kim Seungmin's death list. The library doors swung open as librarian Kang let out an exasperated sigh.

"Another wannabe Einstein," she muttered under her breath as Seungmin made his way towards you.

He looked like a sight for sore eyes in his plain sweater and gray sweatpants. Seungmin gave you a subtle not and took a seat right beside you, pulling out his books and tablet. Soon you both started studying and, before you knew it you both were engaged in a heated competition to see who could solve as many trigonometry problems as possible correctly, in the least time.

Throughout this duration, you didn't find out much personally about him, but saw a more carefree side of him. In fact, you liked this carefree side of him.

He winced when you pointed out the simple mistake he made that caused him to lose in the end. "I can't believe I've forgotten what the division symbol looks like."

You giggled and poked his arm, legs underneath your feet. "Is this what letters in math is doing to you?"

Seungmin shrugged sheepishly with a tiny smile. "Go ahead, shortcake, gloat."

Instead, you posed him with a question, "Why do you always insult my height? Like, that seems to be your favorite."

Maybe, just maybe, you were imagining it, but you saw a light blush scatter over Seungmin's cheeks. He cleared his throat and, in what must have been a moment of vulnerability said, "You are good at literally everything else. Your height is the only thing I can ask you about."

You stared at him slightly open mouthed at his sudden respect. In an instant, the room felt to hot and Seungmin's face felt to close to yours. The moment was broken, however, by the simultaneous and not at all harmonious chorus of a chair scratching against the floor and you're stomach rumbling.

Benji was gone and but your appetite was back. Seungmin must have heard it too because his right eyebrow was ticked up.

"When, exactly, did you last eat?"

"Today," you admitted sheepishly, "Morning. At 6."

"And what was it?"

Another gulp. "A banana."

Seungmin shook his head in disappointment and rifled through his bag. He pulled out a mushed granola bar and handed it to you.

"Eat," he commanded.

"Okay," you said meekly. "Wait, this is my favorite brand!"

"Yeah, I think you mentioned that before," Seungmin said nonchalantly, but you noted the slight quiver in his voice.

You took a bite and it felt like your body was screaming at you. It felt so good to eat after just having six in the morning bananas for the past few days, that you little out an embarrassing little squeal in content.

"I'm surprised you remembered," you referenced Seungmin earlier statement and folded the wrapper in a neat rectangle. Putting it in your pocket to throw away later, you waited for Seungmin's response.

It never came. His head was bent and he was hard at work, evidently ignoring. Seeing this as an indication that the conversation was over, you got back to your own work. That wasn't, however, without a feeling of something new that wasn't hate - adjacent.

You felt a little blossom of affection in your stomach for the boy flipping through the pages of his notebook beside you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - it's finals!

You slammed your Astrophysics textbook against your desk, yet again unable to get stuff to fit in your brain. It was your last final and while you crammed for your other subjects, Seungmin had told Hyunjin that you were back to your old habits. Hyunjin and Riya had then joined hands and blackmailed you into (yuck) taking care of yourself.

"Seriously," you grumbled, "How do people who get eight hours of sleep get their shit done?"

Finally coming to the conclusion that you were helpless, you reached for your phone to text all your questions to Seeun, the assistant teacher. Seeun was a university student interning at your school, and an alumni as well. Citing how she was very much close in age with the students of your grade (if six years is considered 'close'), she insisted that you all call her Seeun and not Miss Choi.

You were in such a rush that you didn't even check for typos, tackling another chapter while waiting for Seeun's response. You still had one more day to study, considering that your exam was the day after tomorrow, you were going to use all twenty four hours and more to your advantage, not wasting a single bit.

Finding it odd that Seeun still hadn't responded considering how bored she always said she was and her frighteningly quick response times, you decided to check your phone. To your horror, however, you found out that in your rush, instead of sending your questions to Seeun, you had sent them to Seungmin.

His responses were almost instantaneous.

[8:18 AM]

You: [sent attachment]

You: Hi Seeun, I had a few questions regarding these topics. I was wondering if we could meet up tmrw to discuss them? Thx!

[8:20 AM]

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i'm not seeun, but i could help

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): i tutored a few seniors taking this class last year

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): if you want, how does the coffee shop down the street at eight sound to you?

You were practically smiling at your phone. It obviously had to do about the fact that it was someone offering you help, not that it was Seungmin specifically. (Duh?) After waging a long, internal war, you finally opted to sacrifice what little dignity you had in front of Seungmin's eyes and take him up on his offer.

[2:47 PM]

You: really? omg thx!

You: see you then

[2:48 PM]

kim stuck-up seungmin (sigh): k, ig i'll see you there

Huh. Weird. Seungmin was notorious for being known to reply to people after a minimum of at least two hours, if they were lucky enough not to be left on read.

Not reading to much into it, you went back to work. Work wasn't just work though. It was an influx of nervous butterflies accompanying it. Not that it had anything to do with Seungmin, of course.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you got to the coffee shop that morning, it was technically 7:55. But, as you had always been taught, five minutes early is on time. Seungmin must have abided by that philosophy too, because soon he stumbled through the door.

You hadn't even picked a table to sit at when he tapped you shoulder and said, "Hey."

You turned to find Seungmin with the same green, battered back pack he took everywhere slung over one shoulder. His hair was tousled in an endearing way that made you want to squish him. His eyes were surprisingly warm and his lips were turned up.

"Like what you see sweetheart?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes at him, "No, of course not. It's like looking at something so hideous that you can't peel your eyes off of it."

He gave you a good natured laugh and walked alongside you to the coffee table.

After much deliberation, which mainly consisted of you and Seungmin arguing over the pros and cons of a window seat, you finally settled on a seat close enough to the large glass window for Seungmin's satisfaction and far enough to not prove distracting to you.

When your sugar packet tower fell down in the process of building it, he grinned at you again. It felt nice, having Seungmin's smile directed towards you.

Whoa, slow down there. Are you ok?

Without even realizing what you were saying, you asked Seungmin, "Why do you always cover your face when you laugh?"

Seungmin's smile slightly faded. "When I was in middle school, I used to wear braces. The kids... they found it weird, which meant they found me weird."

You were shocked. How could anyone dislike his smile? Seungmin's smile was one of the prettiest smile's you had ever seen. And mind you, you used to hate Kim Seungmin.

Used to. Now, it was more like you were tolerating him, sometimes even appreciating him. Wow, something really is wrong with you.

You snorted. "If I could travel back in time," you declared, "I would deck those dumbasses in the phase."

Seungmin choked on the coffee that the waitress had dropped off a few minutes ago. He surprisingly remembered your order, despite you only mentioning it to him during his student council coffee runs only once or twice before.

"Y/N, I'm pretty sure that's a crime," Seungmin snickered.

You raised your eyebrows in response. "And if you don't help me with this, I'm about to commit a crime, and you won't be in a position to testify."

With that, the lessons began.

Seungmin was an extremely good teacher. He was well known among the student body for being the kind of tutor that took F grades and turned them into a B+ or A-. Even you wanted to start tutoring, but your patience often wore thin faster than it did for others.

Seungmin though, didn't break a sweat. He revised concepts over and over again until you understood, making sure that at the end, you didn't have a single semblance of a doubt in your mind when it came to the related topic.

Two hours later, you were finally done.

"Now," Seungmin announced, "We will have some fun and let loose."

You were putting your books inside when you clicked a pen in your hand restlessly. "You, prim and proper Kim Seungmin, want to 'let loose' and 'have some fun'?"

Seungmin clicked his tongue in exasperation. "Look tiny, I'm disciplined, but I know my limits. You have already studied everything to the T. Plus, your exam is tomorrow. Get some fresh air and take a break now, then revise once more in the evening."

You wondered how he could be so careless when he probably had an exam tomorrow too. "What about you? Don't you have to study as well?"

Seungmin sent you a devious grin and you felt your knees go weak a little (No. What?)

"I had my last exam yesterday, honey," he happily shared, patting your head in mock pity in the process.

Honey, that was new. You were so used to the reoccurrences of 'darling', 'sweetheart' and terms related to your height that the new nickname caught you slightly off guard.

You hoped the expression on your face clearly conveyed that you found his actions traitorous. "How dare you prey on a vulnerable young woman just to quench your loneliness?"

"Come on," Seungmin coaxed, "We can hit the boardwalk, get lunch and go back to the dorms. You and I both know that we aren't invited to Saturday gatherings due to unfortunately being classified as 'nerds'."

In the end, you relented. After all, who can say no to someone whose beaming smile rivalled the shine of a rainbow and whose honeyed voice washed over you like a soothing balm?

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Boardwalk was the name that the students had given to the all year amusement park reminiscent set up that was just a few minutes away from the dorms. You had come here several times, but rarely with someone else and mostly to clear your head. (And watch toddlers shrieking on the carousel).

The moment you got your pink wristbands, Seungmin dragged you to the stalls where you played to win a plushie. He was so intent on winning something that you found it almost adorable.

"You do know that these are all scams, right? There's no way you'll win," you stated confidently, disregarding the mammoth scowl on the game operators face."

Seungmin lazily picked up a dart and aimed for the balloons hung on the wall. He cocked his head towards you and gave you a wink, "This one's for you, sweetheart."

To your utmost surprise, the dart hit the balloon perfectly. Even Seungmin looked stunned. The operator offered him another dart and you a self-assured smirk. He once again hit the dart again, with a satisfying pop!.

"All right folks," the operator droned, "Pick a stuffed toy."

Seungmin nudged you slightly, "Which one?"

You glanced at him, "You won, so it's only fair that you choose."

Seungmin smirked at you, "Nope. I recall mentioning that that one was for you."

Heat pooled in your stomach, which shouldn't have. Especially when the cause were Kim Seungmin.

"Okay," you jutted out your head to make eye contact with him and turned back to choose the lucky stuffed toy.

You pointed at a medium sized elephant plushie and grabbed it eagerly. Holding it tight to your chest you said, "What should we name our child Seungmin?"

He presented you with no reply and a face contorted with judgement.

Pouting, you mockingly told the elephant, "Look, your father doesn't love you."

Feigning an offended gasp, Seungmin promptly snatched the elephant from you, "Don't listen to your mother, Ello."

"Ello?" You laughed.

"Shh," Seungmin chastised, "Let my inner European be free."

The mild spring breeze whipped your hair around and you took of your jacket, wrapping it around your waist. You spotted a fallen rose and quickly went to pick it up. It was still in pristine condition and in a random bout of girlhood, you tried to tuck it behind your ear.

Silently, Seungmin motioned towards you taking Ello and you handing him the rose. Seungmin somehow managed to break of the thorns without cutting himself.

Delicately lifting up the hair behind your hair, he began to adjust the rose in place. Since he was considerably taller than you, Seungmin leaned in front. You could see every valley and crevice in his face and for some reason, you wanted to hold it in your arms.

A rush thumped through your chest. As silly as it seemed, nobody had ever quite touched you like that. Seungmin's breath smelled like chocolates and cinnamon.

A rebellious part if you wondered if that was what he would taste like.

Lightly clearing his throat, he continued walking and you followed wordlessly. A few random rides later, you both finally found yourself in front of the Disco Pang Pang. A smile tugged at your lips. You were so going on this ride today.

Cheeks flushed from the fun you were having, you said breathlessly, "Let's go."

Seungmin visibly gulped, "I don't know."

"Aw come on, don't tell me you're scared." Seeing the petrified expression on his face however, you quickly retracted your statement. "It's fine, we don't have to,"

"No, it's okay," Seungmin managed weakly, "Just, hold me please."

Handing Ello to one of the fair volunteers, you both clambered up the metal stairs and took a seat on the foam benches. Seungmin was right next to you, his arm around the railing of where you sat.

Your initial excitement of experiencing this wore off, however, when the machine suddenly lurched forward. It threw Seungmin on you and his arms instinctively curved around your waist.

The warmth from his body radiated into you and for a moment stayed frozen, eyes glued on each other. You felt electric shocks where he touched you and trembled slightly.

Catching his breath, Seungmin began to apologize profusely. "I'm sorry I didn't mean too-"

The machine lurched again and again. Seungmin had figured out how to maintain his balance and stayed the distance of an arm's length away from you. When it was finally over, you both stumbled onto solid ground, clutching your stomachs.

"That. Was. Awesome!" You decided, delight etching your face.

"I'm convinced you're a six year old boy stuck in an eighteen year old girl's body," Seungmin groaned.

Agreeing upon this being enough fun for one day you both walked back to the dorms and went your separate ways. Astoundingly, Seungmin's advice of taking a break in between studying did help and you noticed that you were retaining information better.

You wanted to thank him and grabbed your phone.

[7:26 PM]

You: ty maybe.

You: I *kinda* had fun today

[7:30 PM]

Ello's dad: just admit it darling

Ello's dad: im fun

[7:31 PM]

You: in ur dreams Kim, in ur dreams

[7:32 PM]

Ello's dad: well then, ig I'll be dreaming of you tonight

You smiled despite yourself and went to bed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - three months and twenty-five days.

Your relationship with Seungmin was somehow significantly improving. Yes, you still did indulge in your regular banter, but you both now had the ability to have full conversations without actually insulting the other person.

Your exams were finally over and, as presumed, both you and Seungmin had equal grades. What you didn't expect however, was even sharing the title of valedictorian with Seungmin.

The you before your impromptu study session would have been spitting fireballs. The you currently was looking forward to embarrassing Seungmin a little bit (in all good fun), during your moment in the spotlight.

In the fast paced environment of writing finals, wrapping up college applications and facing parents at parent - teacher meetings, the prom committee had forgotten one, extremely crucial component of prom planning: Picking a theme.

It was so stupid, really. None of you even realized until the décor committee was busy trying to decide on decorations and Felix meekly articulated, "Uh, guys. I don't think we ever decided on a set theme."

Seungmin eyes grew wide and you took in a sharp breath. How could you forget something so important? Frantic chatter arose and in a futile-ish attempt, you yelled out to the students, "Guys! Let's just come up with ideas, but in an orderly fashion."

In an instant, the room began quieting down and hands were raised, full of ideas. Seungmin gave you an impressed look and everyone slowly began suggesting various prom themes.

"What if," Noelle screamed from the back of the room, "We had a Paris inspired theme? I know, Paris nights!"

The entire room let out a collective groan. If Korea had koreaboos, then Noelle was some fucked up version of a French-boo. She boasted to whoever would listen that she had French blood, if being named Noelle and visiting Canada for two weeks constituted French heritage.

Riya ears perked up however, and she asked, "How about Aphrodite's Garden?"

You and Seungmin exchanged a look. "Elaborate," asked Seungmin.

Hyunjin gave Riya an encouraging shove and she stood up, "How about a spring theme, but instead of the classic flowers and leaves, it's more sensual and inspired by Greek mythology?"

The room broke into excited conversation, seemingly approving of Riya's idea. Hyunjin stood up next to her, "Riya and I could prepare a mood board and send it to the group chat."

"All in favor," Seungmin asked. A clear majority.

"Perfect," you smiled, "Then it's settled. The theme will be Aphrodite's Garden."

The room went back to it's raucous state as you stepped aside for a moment, head pounding from a headache. You had a cold and staying up all night studying for scholarship tests did not help. You knew you had to pass them though. You weren't willing to give your parents another reason to demean you for being a burden.

You were massaging your temples when Seungmin came up from behind you. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"Yep," you tried to muster a positive tone, "Just a headache. I'm peachy."

"Peachy?" Seungmin inquired, his eyebrow cocked upwards and tone full of mischief.

"Don't assume that I don't use the word peachy unironically," you huffed.

Still, Seungmin's apprehensive expression and the exponentially increasing pounding in your head made you feel your gut that something bad was brewing.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You, Jeongin and Hyunjin waited patiently in the computer lab the next day. Hyunjin and Riya had made the mood board for Aphrodite's Garden, but wanted the input of you, Seungmin and Jeongin.

All three of you stood near the window, peering out of the glass and observing the ant-like players on the soccer field below. You wondered what was so appealing about kicking a ball on a Saturday morning.

Hyunjin looked troubled, "I want to ask Riya to prom. But I don't know how."

You let out a sneeze in response and Hyunjin wordlessly handed you a tissue, the despair never leaving his face.

You slightly understood the reasoning behind Hyunjin's thinking. It was promposal season, people planning elaborate and innovative ways to ask each other to prom. Considering the high school you were at, this more often than not involved Rube Goldberg machines and periodic table confessions.

Jeongin let out an audibly exasperated huff of breath. "If you like Riya, just ask her out. The worst she could say is no."

Before you could add onto Jeongin's admonishment, a voice cut through the room.

"What?"

Your eyes widened as you clapped your hand to your mouth. Hyunjin felt himself stumble backwards and Jeongin muttered a low "Fuck" under his breath.

Judging by the tone of the voice and familiar sweetness, you knew it could only belong to one person. Time felt like a concept out of grasp as you, Hyunjin and Jeongin turned to face Riya, standing in the doorway with shock painted on her face.

"I- I can't," she tripped over the doorstep, "Look, I'll just send them to you, I-"

Riya steadied herself, holding on the the doorframe, and then fled the room. Hyunjin glanced at you, his eyes full of pleading.

"Go, quickly," you commanded, and he rushed out of the room in Riya's stead.

"See, this is why you're my favorite," Hyunjin told you while ruffling you, scowling at Jeongin. You sniffed in response as Jeongin's jaw clenched.

Just then, Seungmin entered the room, giving both Hyunjin and Riya and irritated glare. "Weren't they supposed to show us something?"

"They'll just send it to one of us," you told Seungmin, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"You know what," Jeongin threw his hands up in the air in rage, "Fuck this. If they are out, I am out."

Seungmin stared at you quizzically, as if trying to unravel the pieces of the puzzle that made you, well, you. His eyes must have taken in your sickness - stricken state because the curiosity on his face morphed into concern.

"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked, stepping closer to you.

"Fine," you choked out, but you knew you weren't.

Your head felt like a thousand drills were screwing into it. You felt hot and cold at the same time, throat parched and dry. Your body felt like lead, being weighed down at ever movement. You knew these were the textbook symptoms of a fever and then some more.

You tried to walk forward, but couldn't hold your balance. Dazed, you felt your consciousness slowly slip away due to the lack of sleep you were forcing yourself to put up with it. Exhaustion didn't come to you in raindrops, it came to you in a torrential shower.

The last thing you felt was Seungmin's arms holding you up as your entire world shrouded in darkness.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you came to, you were still in the classroom, water droplets running down your face. Seungmin looked guilty and the bottle of water in his hand told you everything you needed to know.

"Sorry," Seungmin said sheepishly, "I didn't know what else to do."

You waved him off, still trying to fully gain control of your senses. You blinked slowly and languidly, adjusting slowly to the light. The sudden shift from complete darkness to windows that let in natural light was slightly painful.

You placed your palms flat against the floor, where Seungmin had most likely placed you. The cool sting of the marble tiles was a welcoming sensation, the bite of it rebooting your brain. You straightened your skirt but your head was still fucking hurting.

"What exactly happened?" you asked weakly.

You knew that women were often taken advantage of in such situations. You knew you could trust Seungmin with your life though. He would never hurt you in any sense, and the past few weeks only solidified that fact for you. Still, asking was like second nature for you.

"Oh, uhm, you fell and I caught you and somehow managed to lean you against the wall," Seungmin stuttered.

He let out a weary sigh and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was almost as if he was the one who had just fainted and was sitting on a cold marble floor. The thought made you laugh, but the way your chest constricted in pain when the laugh travelled up your bones made you push it down.

"Let's-" you managed until you let out a sneeze, "Let's get back to work. Hyunjin or Riya must have sent the designs by now."

Seungmin looked at you, appalled. "No. Are you insane? You probably are. I'm taking you back to your dorms and making you something warm to eat, no questions asked."

"Seungmin, you don't have to," you let out, your voice hoarse. But despite your mental and vocal protests, your body couldn't fight it anymore. It was begging, screaming for help and you had ignored it wrong enough."

Seungmin set you a look that could kill and held out his palm. You grabbed onto it, and with his help stood up. You legs were so weak, however, that you fell forward again. The world was spinning and you were falling and falling until you weren't.

The entire time, only one thought rang over and over again in your head, like a sickly song.

Was success, was making the people around you proud, was your hard work really worth this form of self inflicted torture you were putting yourself through?

Seungmin's arms steadied your waist as you arms flew up to his shoulders. You were in close proximity now, close enough that you could see your reflection in his eyes. God, you looked like shit.

The concern in his eyes and the pain you were both mentally and physically going through finally made you snap.

Without warning, tears filled your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks. You were so, so tired. Seungmin didn't say anything, but he understood. Of course he understood. You couldn't deny it any longer. Being compared and set against each other didn't make you two poles on other sides of your respective worlds; in fact, it did the very opposite.

You were so accustomed to the thought of each other, that you had become a reflection of each other. There was no Y/N L/N without Kim Seungmin and no Kim Seungmin without Y/N L/N.

Your lives had become so intricately intertwined that the thought of a world without Seungmin, without the jabs and maddening nicknames, without the warm smiles that were solely reserved for you when somebody made an out of pocket comment at one of your student council meetings, felt impossible.

You felt your arms effortlessly slip down Seungmin's shoulder and around his waist. Your head automatically found a spot on his chest. You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, you knew that you were helpless and vulnerable, but you didn't care.

Seungmin kept you anchored as your mind swam through every dark tunnel that dug itself throughout your life. This time, you weren't frolicking in them. This time, you weren't finding solace in them because of your self proclaimed incompetence.

This time, you were sealing them shut for good and the only reason you could was because you knew Seungmin was there. He was there, he was there, he was there.

When Seungmin lightly placed his chin over your head, you didn't mind being short. His hands soothingly smoothed your hair over and over again as you noiselessly let out all the pent up emotions and feelings that grew into this black hole that was sucking the life out of you.

You stepped back. "I'm sorry," you sobbed.

"It's fine, you're good," he whispered softly.

Holding you forearm gently, he walked you out of the room you both were in and in the direction of your dorm. You furiously rubbed at your cheeks, attempting to lose any indication of you previously pathetic state, but you stopped when a shot of something you hadn't felt in a long time rushed back to you: indifference.

In this moment, you didn't care that the regality with which you held yourself in front of Seungmin  and the world was soiled under your feet.

All you cared about was that you finally had a person who would hold you while you break and pick up the pieces with you when you were ready, mending you and healing and hell, loving you back to a state of somewhat living.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Your hands were shaking so much and your vision was so blurry when you tried to unlock your dorm room door that Seungmin had to ease the key out of your finger. He slid it in and with a click, the door swung upon.

You pulled out strength from the nooks and crannies of your being to actually change into something comfortable. Seungmin surprisingly also had a change of clothes in his bag, until you later remembered that he had baseball matches every Saturday morning at dawn.

You came out of your room wearing cat faced pajamas that were a little big for you but cozy nonetheless. Seungmin looked you up and down with a smirk on his face.

"Shall I call you kitty cat now?" his tone heavy with fake torment and real intention.

There was no way you were getting out of this one.

"Shut up, puppy," you referenced the small puppy face on his t-shirt as you padded towards the bar stools that stood along your kitchen counter.

"Okay, kitty cat," he grinned while you groaned.

In the fifteen minutes Seungmin had spent inside your dorm room, he had located the medicine cabinet and slid a bottle of Tylenol and a spoon. You withered under his expectant stare and duly obliged.

"Fair warning," Seungmin said casually as he took out some instant ramen and a saucepan, "I'm a horrible cook."

You probably would have flipped him off for his easy-going tone while saying that he could food poison you if he wasn't the reason you were in the comfort of your home right now.

"Just don't give me acidity. I would probably die and if I do, best believe I'll come back to haunt your ass," you muttered.

"Relax," Seungmin's tone was slightly offended, "Have faith in me. I can make at least instant ramen."

"If you insist," you sighed.

Seungmin passed the bowl of steaming hot ramen towards you, vapor still rising from it. You blew on it and took a bite, the heat instantly making you feel better. Seungmin sat beside you and began eating as well. You both lunched in silence, only the sounds of your spoons hitting your bowls and the occasional slurp filling the room.

You let out a yawn and Seungmin was quick to tell you that the instructions on the instructions stated that you had to wait an hour before sleeping if you had eaten anything after administering it.

To kill time, you suggested watching something on television. Seungmin joined you on the couch. You wrapped a warm blanket around you while Seungmin shifted through your Netflix catalogue, evidently pleased with your taste in media.

You started speaking, "You know, I was thinking of watching -"

At the same time Seungmin began, "I was actually planning on starting -"

"Three Body Problem," you both finished at the same time.

Reflections, reflections.

Seungmin played the first episode and you both watched in transfixed awe and silence. Seungmin kept checking on you in between though. It was never something major, but small things, like handing you the only pillow on the couch and passing a bottle of water at regular intervals.

"Wow," you said breathlessly as if you yourself were in that setting, "Any theories?"

Seungmin gritted his teeth, "Multiple, actually, but I have read the books and that would be fair, would it kitty cat?"

You pouted at him and he laughed his devious laugh.

"You can go, if you need to," you told Seungmin, "I'll get some rest. Riya will probably be home soon for a few hours."

"No, I'll stay out of the goodness of my heart," Seungmin smirked.

You snorted, "Out of the goodness of your heart, or out of the goodness of wanting to steal something?"

"Maybe I'll take your bunny slippers. They're the only thing worth committing a crime in this dorm for," Seungmin mocked, the slippers you were currently wearing coming I'm intentionally violent contact with his leg.

"Seriously though, thank you for helping me. I wouldn't have expected it from someone who hates me," you said, not thinking much of it.

"I don't hate you," said Seungmin, and your worlds collided to come to a standstill.

Every perception you had for yourself was destroyed with the utterance of four words. I don't hate you. The walls you had built of rivalry and animosity, of surpassing him and opposing him came crashing down and burying you in rubble underneath.

If all you had worked towards was to dismantle the justification of Seungmin's fabricated hatred, and yet he never hated you in the first place, then what was the point? Does that mean that you were never truly doing any of this for yourself, and only because of him?

If he didn't exist, what would you be?

You realized that you were probably reading too much into it and let out a hollow, "I thought you did."

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. I just considered you a worthy opponent that would help me improve myself. If anything, I respect you. In fact, these last few days have led me to see you as a friend."

You realized that it was time you apologized as well. "I'm really sorry too. I shouldn't have treated you so crossly."

Understanding and amusement flooded Seungmin's features. "No, please don't change. Bickering with you is one of the highlights of my day."

A smile tugged at your lips. "Okay, puppy boy. I'll go get some rest. What will you be doing?"

Seungmin winked at you. "Looking for things useful to steal, of course."

You lightly shoved his shoulder and he shook his head, shaking with laughter. Seungmin's hair bounced up and down as he laughed, pitifully, at his own joke.

You went to bed with a reducing migraine, a lighter heart and a new perception of you relationship with Kim Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were completely knocked out. When you woke, you felt weirdly feverish. You sighed bitterly, knowing that it would take you time to recover.

You walked out to the living room the check up on Seungmin. The sight which you found before you made you mentally melt into a puddle.

In front of you was a sleeping Kim Seungmin, legs brought to his chest and cheeks puffed out. His chest heaved rhythmically and small puffs of breath escaped his mouth. His hair covered his eyes and he was in the most compact position you had seen. You suppressed a snort.

You knew the kindest thing you could for him was to let him sleep. You knew the kindest thing you could do for yourself was to take pictures for blackmail material. Slipping your phone out of your back pocket, you quickly snapped a picture.

Foolishly, you forgot to turn off the flash and Seungmin stirred in his sleep. He got up with a start and blinked slowly. His eyes found yours and he blinked once more.

Then, with a slow smile, he said, "Hi."

If you thought you were a puddle before, you were now a stream rushing towards the ocean. "Hello."

Seungmin sprang up, "Feeling better?"

"Hm," you responded.

You watched as Seungmin made his way to the kitchen, shuffling with the cups you had inside your mildly messy cupboards. "I'll make coffee. Two sugars right?" he asked matter of factly.

"Yep," you replied in slight surprise, "It's crazy how you still remember. It's been... what, six weeks since your last student council coffee run?"

Seungmin's back was to you, mixing away the milk and coffee granules. "I remember everything about you."

You heart shouldn't have stuttered the way it did, and for once, you didn't try to stop it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - three months.

"Han Jisung," you yelled into your phone, "I will kill you!"

Static emerged from the other side, but you could still make out Jisung's muffled giggle. "Y/N, bestie, bad bitch, my ride or die, just get cookies."

You hung up the phone call in irritation as Seungmin leaned against the window of the bus stop, observing you with a smile. You shot him a grimace which was poorly disguised as a smile, and he burst out into a fit of laughter.

"Cookies it is I guess," he snickered at your misfortune.

"We're splitting the bill," you announced haughtily, and you both walked side by side to the local grocery store.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The cold air of the grocery store nipped at you, making its under your shirt and through your jeans. You rage towards a particular Han Jisung, however, propelled you towards the baked goods and sweets section. Seungmin tailed behind you, his hand holding on to your jacket sleeve.

The conquest in question was to get one of the people in your grade, Jisung, to help provide entertainment for the school prom. Him and two other seniors who had already passed out, Chan and Changbin, were part of a trio named 3racha. The entire school knew of their laurels; they had been signed to a famous company before even graduating high school.

Jisung told you to meet at their studio after school to discuss prom, assuring you that they would provide music and maybe even dj on the side. Right before you and Seungmin were going to leave however, he had the absolute audacity to tell you that his hyungs needed a lot of convincing.

You scanned all the decorative tin boxes, trying to pick out something cheap that would also suffice for the treacherous endeavor you were about to undertake. Sometime during this process, the familiar tug of Seungmin's hand on your sleeve vanished.

You surveyed the room to find where he was, like a mother looking for her son. When you finally spotted his familiar tuft of hair and tall frame, you let out a slightly fond and extremely exasperated sigh.

While you were actually working, Seungmin was busy waving two cones of ice cream towards you. You grabbed the box of cookies you were eyeing and walked towards him.

"Really, Seungmin?" you dryly questioned.

"I have an unnatural craving for butterscotch. If you don't let me have it, I'll go Edward Cullen on you," he retorted.

You seriously regretted persuading Seungmin into watching Twilight with you. Ever since the little sick spell you had which prompted Seungmin to spend time at your dorm, you both began a mini tradition of watching a movie together once every week.

You would play the movie on your respective laptops and call each other, listening on mute bar the occasional theoretical conversations and joint rants about the main character's absolute stupidity.

It all started when he began pestering you about table colors for the prom banquet ("but I don't see the difference between ivory and off-white!"), but you interrupted by saying that it movie night and that you were rewatching Interstellar. Both your movie preferences and haywire sleep schedules being very similar led to Seungmin asking you if he could watch as well.

The rest, as they say, was history.

You finally relented and you and Seungmin stepped out of the store with a split bill, a box of cookies under your arm and ice creams currently being devoured. You opted for Belgian Chocolate while Seungmin wolfed down butterscotch. You finished your ice creams and tossed your wrappers in the bin outside.

You noticed a spot of ice cream near Seungmin's lip. Without thinking anything of it, you pulled your sleeve and swiped at it, cleaning it in one go. Seungmin glanced at you with a mixture of awe, shock, and something you assumed was adoration.

"It's just ice cream," you mumbled, but the atmosphere of comfort and domesticity hit you just as much as it healed him.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The two of you got on the bus and found two empty seats beside each other. After you vehemently listed the cons of sitting in an aisle seat, Seungmin finally conceded into letting you sit near the window. He didn't do so without insulting your height (again), claiming that since he was tall he would need to stretch his legs, but you wouldn't be having such issues at all.

The bus ride to the 3racha studio would take a good forty five minutes. Not because it was far, per se, but because traffic was a little shit.

You both were on your phones, and you scrolled aimlessly through social media. You let out a groan of annoyance.

"What is it?" asked Seungmin.

"Just Riya and Hyunjin being disgustingly adorable. Go ahead, take pleasure in my despair," you offered, full of snark.

"I mean, if you insist," Seungmin grinned.

Ever since Riya and Hyunjin's dramatic love confession and Victorian romance-esque scenario, you had been third wheeling to the point where you were third wheeling without even being near them. Hyunjin and Riya being in a relationship did make you crave one of your own, but you were kind of to not let an innocent victim (see also: Yang Jeongin) fall captive to the perils of being a third wheel.

You were drifting in and out of reality, immersed in a science fiction eBook loaded onto you phone. Or at least, you were, until animated video game noises came from Seungmin's phone. You peered over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and burst into a fit of stifled laughter.

"How can you be so bad at Fruit Ninja of all games," you giggled.

Seungmin glared at you, "As if you're any better."

"I am, in fact," you snorted, your tone full of invitation and open to challenge.

It took just those four words and the smug expression on your face for Seungmin to quickly switch to multiplayer mode. The two of you vigorously tapped at your screens, slicing watermelons and mangos. Seungmin swiping was so arbitrary that he couldn't even cut through a fruit half the time.

You shoulder was pressed against Seungmin's and your chin hovered over it. You thought you both were being soft enough so as to not disturb anyone, but an old woman sitting in front of you coughed in what you assumed was contempt.

Blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment as you and Seungmin both bowed apologetically. You were expecting a lengthy sermon on public discipline, but the old woman broke into a smile instead.

"Always cherish your childhood friendships and childhood loves," she winked at the two of you, "Especially when it seems to be a love as free as the one you both share."

You and Seungmin exchanged confused looks.

"We're not-"

"About that-"

You were tripping over your words, stumbling and falling until Seungmin finally mustered, "We're not dating, or in love or anything."

The woman just laughed in response. She got up from her chair and left with an "If you say so!", leaving both you and Seungmin stunned in her wake. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin sat cramped in the 3racha studio couch. You couldn't quite call this room a studio. It was more of a musically inclined man cave.

Jisung, Changbin and Chan sat across from you, their legs ridiculously crossed over the other at the exact same angles. Jisung nibbled on the cookies that you brought. He smiled at another one of your death glares.

Chan clapped his hands together, "You know what? We would love to play at your prom. Changbin and I are alumni and Jisung is bitchless anyways."

Jisung swatted at Chan's arm with his cookie while Changbin swooped in to claim a cookie of his own. Amidst the chaos, you and Seungmin let out a sigh of relief.

"You can send us the transaction details at our email," said Changbin, scribbling it on a notepad. His booming voice made you jump in surprise.

"Cool, we'll do that soon. Before we go, can I use the restroom?" Seungmin inquired.

Chan rattled off the directions to the restroom and Seungmin left with a pat on your head and a "Don't miss me too much, darling."

"We'll get back to work now, Y/N," Chan said kindly.

You shot him a smile which remained on your face until Changbin snickered, "Yeah, Jisung can keep you company."

The two of them went inside their studio booth, erupting with giggles that turned into fake coughs which once again morphed into real coughs. You shot Jisung a quizzical look. "Oh, that's because I used to like you," Jisung said through a mouthful of cookie.

You weren't taken aback, unfazed by his sudden admission. Jisung has had a crush on almost the entire student body, regardless of gender. You would be kidding if you said that you didn't have a soft spot for Jisung though. He was your seatmate in chemistry class (a horrible one at that), but also the reason why you ran for student council president in the first place.

"You would be good at it," he encouraged you, even though you knew his ulterior motives.

You were presently reaching for a cookie when Jisung stated casually, "I didn't know you were dating Seungmin."

You choked on your cookie. "What? We aren't. Why would you think that?"

There was no way in hell you and Seungmin could ever be mixed up for a couple. Yes, your feelings of hatred towards him had considerably dampened, but that didn't mean that you liked liked him. Everything you felt towards him was strictly professional and only had to do with prom planning, as you would regularly reassure yourself.

Jisung shrugged. "The nicknames, the looks you were giving each other. I mean, you both are alike. It wouldn't be that out of the blue of you were."

You responded with a huff of indignation, assuming that this was Jisung's way of asking you if you were single.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"We are not watching Twilight," you told Seungmin sternly. He pouted at you but you wouldn't budge, not even an inch.

Seungmin and you were back on the bus, the sky painted in beautiful shades of blue. The bus was quiet, you and Seungmin being the only passengers on there. Deciding to kill time because evening traffic would cause the bus to take even longer, Seungmin suggested watching something on his tablet.

"Let's watch the Vampire Diaries instead!" Seungmin said in excitement.

You stared at him, mouth agape. "What is it with you and vampires?"

"It's either that or Mean Girls," Seungmin offered.

You instantly knew what you would watch. Suffering through Seungmin watching Mean Girls and adopting Regina George's personality would be pure agony. There were many things you could tolerate in life, but Seungmin taking up the persona of his favorite characters after watching something knew was not one of them. Knowing Seungmin, you didn't have a shred of doubt that his favorite would be Regina.

"Vampire Diaries it is," you agreed, "But Damone is mine."

Seungmin offered no objection and handed you one side of his wired earphones. You had to sit in extremely close proximity to Seungmin, close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek. Your head subconsciously dropped on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against your hair.

Seungmin smelled like cinnamon and rain. You wondered what perfume he used, but then realized that it would be pointless since any and all perfume would have worn out by then. After that you began to ponder about what Disney movie he had stepped out of to smell so good and look so good despite spending hours either outside or in a cramped studio.

Finally, your train of thought took a sharp, final turn.

You were comfortable, pressed up against Seungmin and making sarcastic comments every so often. It felt normal, natural even. It struck you that your head fit under Seungmin's chin like a missing puzzle piece.

The pieces of your brain and the pieces of his heart joined together to form a beautiful mosaic of shared chaos and resilience that was unique only to the odd relationship you both shared.

Maybe it wasn't so absurd that two people had assumed that you both were in a relationship. Maybe you didn't want it to be so absurd. Maybe you wanted it to be something that wouldn't cause you and Seungmin to dismiss with hurried explanations and laughs full of ridicule.

That was enough thinking for today.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[10:17 PM]

puppy boy: i have come here to tell you that i am willing to risk our friendship

[10:18 PM]

You: /what/ friendship?

[10:18 PM]

puppy boy: fine, i'm willing to risk out not friendship for claiming damone salvatore

puppy boy: talk to hand if you have any arguments

puppy boy: ✋🏻

[10:19 PM]

You: lmao not you acting like damone would choose *you* over *me*

[10:19 PM]

puppy boy: ...

puppy boy: ok well i can't rly argue with that

puppy boy: if i was damone, i would choose you in a heartbeat

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - two months and twenty six days.

The most fascinating thing that you had studied about in your astronomy class were binary stars. They were the most common multi star system, found regularly in pockets of the universe. They were immensely important, aiding in the calculation of things like mass of celestial bodies.

But one could not exist without the other.

A binary star was useless without it's counterpart, just another ball of glowing gas drifting about in the universe. You reckoned that humans also had their version of binary stars, people whose lives were so intertwined with each other that having one without the other stripped both entities of their meaning.

In astronomy, they were called binary stars. On earth, they were called soulmates.

That was what you and Seungmin were, stars that shone brightly in your shared skies but instead of dimming the other, only amplified it. You both were natural satellites, celestial bodies gravitating into each other's pull like a two magnets.

Seungmin drew you in like nobody else did, and you were tired of repelling it. If the earth had reversed it's poles so many times in the past, then in the grand scheme of things, you reversing your perception of Seungmin should have been nothing that would warrant a big deal.

But to you, this was your entire perception of a black and white reality being ripped away and slowly rebuilt in color.

Considering that the person behind all of it was Seungmin, these colors were more often than not so vivid and vibrant that it left you craving more of what life could be like if he would be there mending every crack in your universe.

It left you craving more of what life could be like if the term my universe in your dictionary changed to our universe.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You and Seungmin were sitting together in the library. Well, less sitting together and more having a habit of happening to be there at the same time (which was almost all the time). This caused you both to strike up a habit of unknowingly taking a seat beside the other person.

Seungmin was leafing through a book while you silently observed him. "What is it?" he piped up, his eyes never leaving his book, "What do you want to ask me?"

You placed a finger between the pages of the book you were reading and shrugged. "Nothing much, really. How did you know I was wondering about something anyways?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. "I just know. Now, what is it?"

His impatient gaze and curious eyes tempted you into telling him what was making rounds in your head. You found yourself thinking for the umpteenth time how his hair fell into his face so perfectly, making him a vision that seemed like a painting encased in a Parisian museum.

"Your eyes," you whispered, your tone so imperceptible that a another human being would have barely heard you.

Seungmin always heard your voice, though.

"What about them?" he chuckled.

You titled your head to the side, wondering if you yourself were imagining all of this. "Did you know your eyes change color when you look at me?"

It was true, at least to you. You noticed that whenever Seungmin's gaze caught onto yours, his eyes darkened. Not in the terrifying way often associated with bloodlust, but in the puzzled way that made you feel like he was trying to figure you out, just as you were trying to figure yourself out.

"It's just a telling sign for my animosity towards you," taunted Seungmin, attempting to ignite a fiery response out of you.

It somewhat mildly worked.

"Oh yeah," you gasped, "Ello will be troubled to know that her parents are fighting.

"Hm," contemplated Seungmin, "Who's gonna be the one to tell her that she's a child of divorce?"

Seungmin's comment caught you off guard. Child of divorce? It was so out of pocket that even the tantalizing curve of your lips that had been making you feel unnatural things as of late couldn't distract you.

"We aren't even married, Seungmin," you pointed out.

In response, Seungmin put his book down on the table in front of him. He placed his elbow on the aforementioned table and smoothly removed one of the two rings that he was always wearing: the smaller moon ring to his larger sun ring, you noticed.

He motioned for your hand and in one gesture, slid the moon ring onto your ring finger. "There," he declared proudly, "Now we're married."

He seemed so casual, so unfazed about it, that it enraged you.

Did he not just feel like an entire carton box of fireworks had gone off in an empty parking lot that was his stomach? Did he not get his breath taken away from a gesture that was so simple that a passerby wouldn't even have batted an eye at it? Did he not feel perplexed, terrified and astonished that such a feeling was even possible?

Because you did.

You felt like your world was tilting on it's axis and you couldn't keep letting the lava simmer under the surface anymore.

It felt like the entire universe was in your grasp, like electricity crackled at your fingertips. You felt euphoric, your brain buzzing and mind spinning.

You felt like someone shattered the vase of feelings that contained all you had ever experienced and glued it back together with gold in its cracks. You felt like someone placed rose-tinted sunglasses on your eyes and that you never wanted to go back to normal vision after gaining a taste of what this felt like.

You knew that what you felt was, according to the countless books and movies you had watched, a horrible illness that constituted a crush. But you didn't know that it felt so good? Even more frighteningly so, you didn't know when you stopped seeing Seungmin as a rival and as a friend.

You frighteningly didn't know when you started seeing Seungmin as someone you were capable of loving until you did and it scared you to death concretely only knowing that your brain provided not a single fucking objection to this flurry of feelings.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - two months.

In the time that you had come to the realization that you had feelings for Seungmin, and all the moments post that day, you were in a tumultuous state of mind.

You hadn't told anyone about your feelings, because you weren't sure if they were genuine or if they were a product of you romanticizing the entire atmosphere surrounding you.

You would be so cruel to Seungmin before a few months ago, so neglectful of his feelings that you thought it was foolish to think that he would ever like. It baffled you that he even saw you as a friend; hoping that he would see you as a lover would be akin to grasping for non-existent straws.

You should have told Hyunjin, who viewed love so beautifully that you envied him for it. You should have talked to Jeongin, who didn't see love as poetically as Hyunjin, but had so much of it to spare and never seemed to run out. But you didn't.

Instead, you chose to exist in torturous turmoil, over thinking each and every shared moment you had with Seungmin. If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped you never went through the pain of it again.

If this was what experiencing supposedly unrequited like was going to be for the rest of your life, you sincerely hoped it didn't become unrequited love.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"And we'll have to meet Felix for his cousin, you know, Lee Minho, who said he'll be open to catering for prom," you finished with an air of finality.

Seungmin bobbed his head in agreement and walked with you towards you locker. He stepped normally, slowing down to keep pace with you. You felt like your legs were lead.

Being near Seungmin made you simultaneously want to combust and make you want to fly.

You reached for you locker and twisted the knob according to your combination, as you did almost everyday. This was like second nature to you, so when you opened you locker, put your books inside and turned around with the intention of facing Seungmin, you certainly weren't expecting what you were met with instead.

Renjun, one of the students of your grade, stood facing you with a bouquet. You had spoken with Renjun a few times at most, striking up conversation very rarely. You had no idea what warranted him looking at you earnestly, hoping that he was waiting for someone else.

Of course you were wrong.

"Hey Y/N, um... I have liked you for a very long time and I wanted to ask if you would go to prom with me," Renjun stuttered.

To say you were in shock was an understatement. Dating was the furthest thing from your mind, regardless of whether or not you had feelings for anyone, Seungmin included. While you did feel a surge of ego at being asked out for prom, you weren't in any way, shape, or form, expecting it.

This also meant that you weren't prepared for what you were going to do if you wanted to accept a promposal, which in turn meant you had even less of an idea of what to do if your intention was to reject a promposal.

You instantly felt pity on him and remorseful for what you were about to do.

"Oh Renjun, I'm really sorry but I barely know you. On top of that, I'll be really busy with student council and just be the reason your night to be ruined," you told him softly.

Renjun looked at you crestfallen. "Oh yeah, no, you're right. I'm sorry for bothering you. Can we grab coffee sometime though?"

Before you could respond, Seungmin interjected. "Yes, yes, that's all nice but we have to go. People to see, places to be. Just text her when and where."

With that, Seungmin dragged you away. You wanted to protest but were internally cartwheeling instead.

It was probably your imagination, probably caffeinated emotions, but you thought you saw a flash of jealousy in Seungmin's charming eyes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"What was that about?" you snorted.

"That was me having to be inconvenienced because my partner doesn't know how to respond when a guy asks her out," Seungmin snapped.

Not friend. No colleague or co-president. Not even your name. But partner.

You weren't sure how to feel about that.

"Why do you hate prom so much Seungmin?" you sighed, changing the topic.

Seungmin shrugged in response but you pressed on. "It's okay puppy. No matter how embarrassing, I won't judge."

You crossed your fingers over your heart, but Seungmin just looked at you with melancholy in his eyes. Your teasing smile fell.

"It's a long story," Seungmin said. His hands were in his pocket and he was kicking at a rock on the pavement.

"It's okay, you don't have to tell me," you told him, your voice full of guilt for asking.

"No, I will," he responded, "You deserve that much."

Seungmin finally began, "You know how I have an older sister, right? She's in college right now, but back when she was in high school, she was really smart. Smarter then me smart. I know right. Crazy? Anyways, she was very much type casted as a nerd and even though she was well liked, nobody wanted to date her. That was, until, prom came around. A guy asked her out and she was over the moon."

You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach, knowing where this was about to go.

"She wasn't even romantically interested in him, but was so excited that someone had for once, shown some interest towards her that she instantly said yes. I still remember how she wouldn't stop talking about it. She got ready, buying her own dress and everything, using money from her part time job that she was saving for university. She looked ethereal that night. I still remember all of it, even if it was five years ago. But she was stood up. Turns out the entire was a dare, a sick joke. Her final straw was when she saw the guy who asked her out walk into the prom venue with another girl on his arm."

Your heart broke for Seungmin's sister. You couldn't even imagine how it must have felt. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, however, Seungmin opened his mouth once again.

He continues bitterly, "She was so heartbroken that she went to one of those afterparties, that's basically a rave. She drank so much alcohol that it got to the point where she was passed out on someone's hospital. We had to rush her to the hospital and get all of it pumped out. It felt so painful, being thirteen and watching my sister just suffer in pure agony."

Seungmin's voice broke, "She almost died last night, physically. But mentally, she was wrecked. It was on her hospital records, this incident. None of the Ivies, or any university even remotely good accepted her. She finally got into Stanford, but that was after writing several scholarship tests and paying a hefty fee. She's never really been the same since."

When Seungmin's sermon came to an end, you felt his hurt ten times over. Tears glistened in his eyes and without warning, you pulled him in for a hug. You felt Seungmin let out a shaky breath and held him close.

"Your hair smells like strawberries. It's highly concerning. Fruit based shampoos are dumb," he mumbled into your hair.

"Shut up and stop ruining the moment or else I'll let go," you warned.

In response, Seungmin just held you tighter. When he let go, he swiped at his eyes and gave you a grateful smile. "Sorry. And thank you," he told you with a tight smile.

You just nodded in response. "Hey, I understand why you hate prom. I can take over for you on the actual night," you offered with a squeeze of his hand."

Seungmin shook his head in response, "No, I'll be there. It wouldn't be fair to all of you if I wasn't. But you should go with Renjun. Being tethered to someone who has an outlook like me would just make the night boring as hell for you."

The possibility of going to prom with Renjun when Seungmin was right there was something you found utterly ridiculous. It made no sense, no sense at all to go with someone you had no feelings for. Going to prom with Renjun would hurt both him and you.

Seungmin's glazed expression sent an arrow straight into your heart, piercing and deafening. You refused to let him drown in sorrow. "Absolutely not, Kim Seungmin. If I said you're coming to prom with me, you're coming to prom with me."

You didn't allow any room for further argument, shutting Seungmin up with a defiant stare. You wanted Seungmin to enjoy prom, you truly did. But you knew that this wasn't the complete truth. You had a much more selfish, concealed motive.

You were going to make Kim Seungmin fall in love with prom, while falling in love with you as well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - one month and three days.

[9:06 PM]

You: oi seungmin

You: we still meeting up at the library to wrap up all the finally details?

[9:07 PM]

seungmine (hopefully someday): Yep.

You could somehow tell that something was bothering Seungmin, just by reading that last text. You caught your lip between your teeth as you got ready to go to the library, his dry tone throwing you off. Seungmin was pretty much a dry texter, but always followed it up with something absurd. Today however, he didn't. Hell, he even used proper punctuation.

The entirety of the mini 'meeting' that you had consisted of only you talking and Seungmin responding with one or two words. If you were lucky, he would look your way, but your luck mostly fell short.

You snapped your binder shut and asked, "Everything good?"

Seungmin just blinked in response, the boredom and sense of being done evident in his eyes. He didn't reply and instead proceeded to swing his bag around his shoulder and stand up.

You tried once again. "I was going to go shopping for prom dresses. Do you want to match colors? Let me know what you plan on wearing."

Seungmin spared you a half glance. "Yeah sure, wear whatever. I don't really care."

You felt tears prick in his eyes. How could he just not care? You were willing to give up fun and sacrifice romance so that Seungmin could have someone to spend time with. You were doing all this and for what? Being told that he didn't care?

You felt so heavy that you spit out, "You know what? Fine. I wanted to go to prom with you so that you would have someone to be with. I knew, I knew that we would have to be stuck together all night, socializing and making sure nobody burns the school down or spikes the punch bowl. But that doesn't mean that I don't want prom to feel authentic, to go as a normal teenager."

You continued, "I'm not even asking you for the grand promposal that I have been dreaming about since I was nine. I'm just asking you to do the bare minimum, if not as my prom date, which you agreed to might I add, but at least as the person who I share the title of co-president with. You cannot keep disregarding my feelings Seungmin. I'm sick and tired of it. I understand that you hate prom but it's you who keeps insisting on coming, it's you who keeps saying that it won't be fair if you aren't there which is ironic, because you most definitely aren't being fair right now."

Seungmin stared at you, jaw slightly hung open, but the fire inside you kept raging.

"I know you don't see me as a date and that's fine but at least show me some modicum of respect. You didn't even let me complete my question; it wasn't me asking about matching prom attire. It was Principal Kim who suggested asking you about it. And you know that a suggestion from her is nothing short of law."

The tears in your eyes were threatening to spill out now as you mentally cursed yourself for ever even thinking that you could have feelings for someone like him.

"So, Kim Seungmin, if you don't want to go prom, or if you want to be a whiny little bitch about it, it's fine with me. Text me if you're going. If you won't, I'll just assume you aren't. You can do whatever the fuck you want because I'm sick for pitying you when you clearly aren't deserving of it. Go ahead and fucking ruin prom for yourself, but don't you dare tarnish the experience for me."

Before Seungmin could even anything, you grabbed your backpack and walked away, blinking back tears as you thought about how cold and lonely prom would be without anybody by your side to spend the night with. Hyunjin had Riya. Jeongin had a roster of senior girls willing to go out with him.

But you? At the end of the day, every single day, you were all alone. You let your intrusive thoughts in, swirling in your head and nearly paralyzing your capacity to think.

What if the reason why you were alone was all your fault? What if you were too pushy, too rude for your own good? None of that mattered, though, because thinking about the situation never changed the situation.

You would be alone, no matter how hard you tried otherwise, and that was the bitter truth you had to learn to live with.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[5:28 PM]

Kim Seungmin: i am so sorry y/n

Kim Seungmin: please answer my calls

[6:36 PM]

You: I have sent the details regarding the electronic equipment.

You: Make sure to contact them.

[6:36 PM]

Kim Seungmin: please let me make it up to you.

Kim Seungmin: please.

[7:05 PM]

You: Let me know once you contact them.

You: Don't bother texting me otherwise.

You: My phone will be on dnd since I'm going out.

You: Call me only if it's urgent. I think you should be more than capable of handling the situation now, but just in case. Don't expect me to respond to you about anything else.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were avoiding Seungmin as if he carried a deadly virus. You dodged him in hallways and expertly deflected any and all of his attempts to talk to you. The one place you couldn't avoid where you knew he would be, however, was the library.

You needed to return one of your library books. Today was the last day and not doing so would led to you paying a fine. You couldn't afford a payable fees right now, since most of the savings from your part time job and the money your parents would regularly send you would be going towards buying your prom gown.

Okay, fine. Maybe you wanted to give Seungmin a chance to properly apologize. But that's absurd and not important right now.

Your headphones were jammed in your ears, music pounding through them while you walked in its direction. People thought that you had an affinity for listening to classical music since you came under the categorization of an 'over-achieving nerd.'

You knew that society also known as your school, would break out into scandal if they ever found out that Kendrick Lamar was your top artist on Spotify.

That thought brought you back to Seungmin, as you giggled at the memory of his confusion while you were explaining the entire Drake and Kendrick beef to him. His nose was scrunched up and his eyes were squinted, listening to you as if you were preaching about the secrets of life and the universe, not ranting about rap music.

Oh wait. You were supposed to hate Seungmin. Not giggle at the memories of the time you spent together like a middle aged woman recounting her college days.

When you got to the library, you placed your bag on Mrs. Kang's table and took out the book you were supposed to return.

You handed it to her with a strained smile. "Hey, I am on time though, aren't I Mrs. Kang? Plus, this is just a first time offence. I'm sure you can let it slide."

Mrs. Kang raised her eyebrow. "Fine, just this once," she slid the book underneath the scanner and mentioned, "Oh, you should go check out the Romantic Literature section; we finally got sent The Vicar of Wakefield."

You looked at her, puzzled. You were never really interested in works that emerged during the age of early eighteenth century Romanticism. She must have mixed you up with somebody else, but you began to walk towards the shelves anyways. If anything would help lighten your spirits, it would be re-reading Pride and Prejudice.

When you got there however, the most unexpected sight awaited you.

Your eyes drank in the sight of Seungmin, standing wearing a varsity jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. Dried rose petals littered the length of the aisle. Seungmin was holding up an open book with it's pages folded to form the word 'Prom?'

As much as you hated to admit it, the sight took your breath away.

Seungmin cocked his head to the side. "I had to bribe her with my limited edition copy of Frankenstein."

"What- what is this?" you asked, your brain still numb from shock.

Seungmin bit his lip and looked at you. "This is me apologizing. You were right. I completely sidelined you when I shouldn't have. I truly respect and admire you and feel horrible that I made you feel like this. And I figured, that I should ask you to prom the way you deserve: with all the grandeur in the world."

His apology was one that you could have never imagined being the recipient of. Even fiction didn't predict something as thoughtful as this. Seungmin preparing an entire promposal for you, over just a hissy fit, was enough to thaw your temporarily frozen heart.

You looked at him open-mouthed. "But I thought you didn't even like me that way."

Despite how hard he tried to contain it, tones of mischief slipped through Seungmin's voice. "Would it be so bad if I did?"

What? This couldn't be real. This was most definitely not happening. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren't dreaming, because never in your wildest dreams would such a scene have ever taken place.

Seungmin must have somehow read your mind because he quickly stuttered, "Not that I do. I mean I like you. But not in that way. Like, I asked you since we have to spend the entire night together anyways. I'm sorry for making this weird."

You let out an exhale, chiding yourself for being so gullible. It was just Seungmin being Seungmin. You spared a glance at his eyes, full of anticipation. You wanted to say no. If you didn't, you knew you would be in too deep.

You took a step forward to refuse his request when your eyes fell on his hand. The sight awaiting you knocked the wind out of your body.

You already noticed Seungmin's baggy eyes, attributing it to lack of sleep because he was busy doing whatever guys do. But his hands told the other half of the story.

They were adorned with paper cuts. Small scars like moons were imprinted on him in various stages of healing. One even had a bit of blood on it.

"Uh, yeah," said Seungmin, noticing your eyes drift down, "I spent all night making it. Let's just say that I'm really bad with paper and folding in any context and leave it at that."

"Seungmin," you whispered, your eyes tearing up. He offered you a tight smile.

"I should go. This was weird. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" you said in a tone that startled him, "I'll go. I'll go to prom with you. Officially."

Seungmin's eyes reflected a question of whether you were doing this genuinely. You hoped that your eyes reflected that you were. Seungmin may not ever come to like you romantically, in any sense. But you were happy with what you were being offered.

You were happy that Seungmin was the first person you thought yourself to have the potential to love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - shit, it's prom!

You couldn't sleep all night.

The frenzied prolepsis that clouded your mind refused to escape. 'What if's?' and 'Should have's?' regarding the event clouded your head. You thought that you would feel more nervous about your experience at prom, but it was all the planning that got to your head.

If you were a wreck, however, then Seungmin was a fucking natural disaster.

He texted you without pause, your phone blowing up so much that even Riya had to ask you if everything was okay. His chats varied, from long rants about how Die Hard is not a Christmas movie, despite Felix's apparent protests, and immense worry about how prom would turn out.

You didn't blame him. You were just as anxious as him, even if you weren't as vocal about it. This mammoth event was like yours's and Seungmin's baby. You were so concentrated on making sure that everything went according to plan, that the idea of you going to prom with Seungmin was pushed to the dark and dusty corner of your brain.

"You have been texting Seungmin a lot lately," teased Riya as she curled her hair.

"Shut up," you told her smoothly, already armed with blackmail material, "Or else I will smack you and tell Hyunjin about your Shah Rukh Khan shrine."

She effortlessly shut up.

You ran from one room to the other, your dorm house common room and back, pacing and placing calls and confirming and reminding people of what had to be done. You were in such a rush that you hadn't even started to get ready.

In your panicked chaos, you slammed into an already ready Felix. His white suit was immaculate, small roses embroidered on the sides. His blond hair was tousled and his easy smile gave you a bit of reassurance amidst the hectic situations you were constantly throwing yourself in.

"Felix! What are you doing here? You look amazing, by the way." You pulled him in for a quick hug, distracted by a call you had to make.

"I'm here to pick up my date, Jeongin," Felix smirked.

You let out a cough. "What?"

Felix laughed. "I didn't have a date and thought that he deserves to come since he has helped so much. So, I offered him my plus one ticket."

Ah, that made sense. You wondered why Jeongin didn't go with one of the senior girls on his roster of ladies in waiting. Then you remembered that he thought of himself as some sort of a chivalrous gentleman.

"Why haven't you gotten ready yet?" Felix questioned.

"Oh, I was just-," you began, before Felix sternly interrupted you.

"Don't you dare say you were wrapping things up. You and I both know that your definition of wrapping things up is frantically quadruple checking everything," Felix scolded, "You will stop worrying and get ready."

You just sighed in response, "I wish I could but-"

"No buts," he said, his eyes softening. "This night is yours as much as everybody else's. If anything, it's mostly yours."

Before you could sweetly respond to Felix with a resounding refusal, Jisung, per usual, appeared out of thin hair. His suit coat looked a little small and you vaguely remembered yearbook pictures of Chan during his prom, wearing almost the exact same suit coat, minus the little hand stitched lightening bolt on the side pocket.

"This," Jisung motioned towards you with a flourish of his right hand, "Is unacceptable."

Felix promptly agreed. You flashed him a withering glare and he slightly wavered, but it was of no use. You had lost the battle before it had even begun.

Twenty minutes later, you, Jisung and Felix were in your dorm room. No matter your protests, they insisted on helping you get ready for prom night. The two of them did your hair and makeup while you pondered on how you couldn't do it yourself half as good as they did.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When they were done, you gasped in surprise. They made you look a beautiful you thought you weren't capable of outwardly being.

Your dress in itself was majestic, at least in your eyes. It didn't exactly fit the theme, but the moment you saw it, you knew you needed to have it. It marveled you to no end about how someone could leave something that looked so incredible in a small thrift store next to the coffee shop you frequented.

The dress was silver, shimmering in a shade of what you only knew to be 'almost white' when light struck it. The bodice was in the shape of fairy wings, the sides laced crisscrossed and showing the smallest bit of skin. The back was covered, and the dress flowed down to reach your feet like a cascading waterfall. It was sleeveless, and so you wore long, winding silver bracelets on each hand.

Your make was done almost professionally by Felix. He used a colour pallet of silvery white, not exaggerating your make up. He brushed your hair calmly and tied two strands of it in a braid, pull them back to make a sort of halo. Felix clipped butterflies into your hair and made you feel like a mythical creature stepping out from a fantasy novel. Narnia, maybe.

Jisung on the other hand, provided food, gossip and entertainment. You would never reveal this to him, but you found that very vital to the process of getting ready as well.

"You are so good at this," you gushed at Felix.

He looked at you calmly. "I have two sisters, and I'm the middle kid. As a consequence, I was often my older sister's model for all things fashion and my younger sister's personal stylist."

Jisung munched on a piece of cake which you had no idea was even there in your kitchen. He sat on a barstool and clapped when you came out and gave him a spin. His feet rocked back and forth while he cheered you on.

"See," he said to Felix pointedly. "I am a better wingman than you."

Felix looked immeasurably hurt. "Not as good as me though. You didn't even help me!"

"I did, didn't I?" Jisung looked at you with those boba eyes that you found extremely hard to resist.

In response, you ushered them both out of the house in order to not get pulled into conflict and be the cause of an unsatisfactory prom night. Plus, you wanted to get there early and check on the venue.

Well, that and also to (mostly), see Seungmin.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You spotted him before he could see you.

Seungmin looked ethereal in his silver suit, his hair swept to the side and hands in his pockets as he engaged in easy conversation with one of the teachers.

He looked like a song you could listen to for the rest of your life until you were maddened by it but never turn it off. He looked like a painting that you could stare at as it dried, like a work of art you spend countless hours and dollars just to catch a glimpse.

And, he matched with you.

When you mentioned to him in passing that your prom dress was silver in colour, you hadn't actually expected him to wear something of a similar, much less the same colour. And yet he did, and you went down a spiral of feelings once again.

Seungmin's eyes must have found you because he sauntered over to you like a man with a purpose.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in awe, "But then again, you do everyday."

You blushed, hoping that the shitty lighting would hide it. "You look incredible yourself Seungmin," you said lightly, "And you somehow look good everyday, despite only running off of caffeine and spite.

Seungmin threw his head back an infectious laughter that had caused you to laugh as well. Someone called his name from the background in the middle of your laughter. Another louder, more insistent call of his name floated towards your general direction. Seungmin dipped his head in apology and walked away.

He had told you that you look beautiful. Not your dress, not your make up, not your hair. Not the meaningless, material attire that clung onto you like tinsel on a Christmas. But he said that you, you, look beautiful.

Seungmin wasn't looking you up and down when he said so, like men in the movies did. He didn't look like he was trying to memorize your body, memorize the dips and curves where he could place his hand and mold his being into yours.

No, he looked you in the eye when he said at, as if he didn't believe that it was the clothes that made you look beautiful. He looked you in the eye as if everything that made you, well, you was what made you so beautiful in his sight.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You stood in a moment of peace, finally standing still since reaching the venue.

The moment you took a deep breath and closed your eyes, however, a guttural screech and the sound of howling teenage boys flooded your ears. Sighing in irritation, you opened one eye to asses the situation. Deciding that it warranted you opening the other eye as well, you walked over to the culprits and sternly told them off.

You probably jinxed any peace that would possibly be coming your way by stealing away those five minutes for yourself.

Bad karma, bad decisions.

Seungmin was watching the entire altercation with a faint smirk. He walked over to you and tapped you on the shoulder. You didn't know it was him, and were about to tell him off as well until his familiar scent reached you.

You glared at the gaggle of seniors who has no right to be called seniors and turned to Seungmin.

"May I please have this dance?" he asked with a smirk.

You raised an eyebrow at him and placed your hand in his. "The theme is Aphrodite's Garden, not 18th century Regency era Bridgerton," you quipped.

Seungmin was subject to torture at your hands, also known as, watching Bridgerton with you. He would never admit it, but you knew he liked it. In fact, he may have even enjoyed it more than you. Either that, or you were hallucinating him being on his Simone Ashley Twitter fan account.

Your arms went around his neck as Seungmin guided you to the dancefloor. "I can't really dance," you murmured, the close contact between you both making your head go haywire.

"Neither do I," he winked.

Seungmin's eyes bored into yours and you licked your lips self-consciously. Considering you incredible luck, the song was slow and sensual. Considering your incredible luck, less than twenty seconds into the song playing, a loud crashing sound was heard in the background.

You prayed to God to help salvage prom, and no, that god was not Taylor Swift.

"I'll handle it," Seungmin reassured you.

"I'm a big girl," you bristled, "I can handle it as well."

"I know you are," Seungmin mused, "But I also know you well enough to know that those heels are absolutely killing you right now."

You pressed your lips in a thin line. No matter your feelings for Kim Seungmin, you still hated when he was right. You flashed him the tiniest smile in a way of saying 'thank you', since you were too proud to actually do it. He took it in stride and went away to handle whatever it was that needed handling at the moment.

He left you alone with your thoughts if such situations weren't confined so momentarily and were instead something you could enjoy for eternity.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You decided to step out of the venue for a bit, to finally clear you head. The atmosphere of prom buzzed with electricity and it wasn't the good, energetic kind; it was more of the kind that made your hair frizz.

You were standing, staring at the stars when you felt the air shift beside you. You knew who it was even without sparing a glance at them.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," you whispered to him.

"They are, but I have seen sights today that even rival them," Seungmin said. His voice was missing his trademark sass.

Your heart thumped incessantly as you asked, "Trying out cheesy pick up lines on me now, are we?"

Seungmin laughed, "Now would that be so bad?"

You both stood in silence. You bent down, opened your heels and set them to the side. You felt Seungmin looking at you, but you kept looking at the sky.

The sky, which was ever changing, yet reflected the same shades everyday. The sky, that served as a medium of rain and thunder, sunlight and rainbows. The sky, that was always there in you life, unwavering and never faltering.

Sky, which was coincidentally Seungmin's English name. It suited him.

"I really like the constellation of Orion," you told him with a sideways glance.

"I know. I remember."

"How? I mean, how do you remember all this?"

"I remember everything you tell me," Seungmin repeated, like he did all those months ago.

"Why?" you asked. You asked because you wanted to know, needed to know and repent your mistake of not asking earlier.

Seungmin turned to face you. His eyes held no glint of mischief, no edge accompanied by teasing. Instead, you felt locked in his gaze. It was the kind of intense stare that made you think that he was about to spill all his sins at your feet, right here, right now.

"I remember everything because it's you who says it. I used to remember because I wanted to beat you, be better than you. Then I started to remember as a habit, noticing the smallest quirks about you. Now I remember because I want to be there for you, to help you."

This wasn't happening. This wasn't real. But how much longer would you say that to yourself until you were imbibed with it?

"There is an ugly mix of feelings inside me regarding you, Y/N. They went initially from animosity, to something akin to friendship, to now, the desire for something with you that's more than just platonic."

He gulped. You swallowed. Silence.

"I am drawn to you, Y/N L/N. From the moment I have met you, it has felt like my life is irreversibly tangled with yours. I am propelled towards like it's pre-destined, and I always have. There are times where I feel like I cannot exist if you do not exist. And I'm tired of brushing these feelings aside, acting like they're non-existent."

"I like you, and not telling you has quite nearly driven me to the brink of insanity. It's alright, if you don't feel the same, but please don't walk away without an answer for me."

His gaze averted yours when he finally finished. You looked at him in awe, unable to express how you felt his brilliance radiate off him when he perfectly articulated all the feelings that restlessly capsized land in the empty spaces of your mind.

"For someone really smart, Kim," you breathed, "You are extremely stupid."

"You mean..." Seungmin's voice trailed off. Now it was his turn to look at you in awe.

"I have the feeling that you're trying not to kiss me, and I give you permission to just do it," you announced.

Seungmin gave you a wild smile before his lips swooped in to meet yours. They tasted like fruit punch and chocolate cake, like promises and forever.

You might have been imagining it, but for one cosmic moment, it felt like the stars were shining brighter than the usually did. Two binary stars had finally found each other, finally made their way into each other's orbits, never to stray again.

His lips left yours with a small gasp. "That was my first kiss," you mumbled sheepishly.

Seungmin fiddled with the flaps of his suit coat nervously. He started babbling, "Really? This was, I think, my third. Once at camp and once last year but that was just spin the bottle-"

You cut him off with a smirk. "Let's make it a fourth time, shall we?" and you promptly shut him up by placing your lips on his.

You weren't jealous of the other people Seungmin had kissed. God knows how awful this entire experience would have been if you both were going into it as novices. If anything, you were glad you were the third person he was kissing, because in that celestial moment, you made a vow.

You may not be the first person Seungmin had kissed, but you would make damn well sure to be the last.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

t - girl, it's the epilogue!

Seungmin yawned and wrapped his arm around your waist, practically caging you to the bed. He let out whine when you tried to get out of his grasp and just pulled you closer. You poked him in the side until he yelped.

"Kim Seungmin, you are not skipping work today. I know this display of affections is just so that I concede and let you stay home for cuddles," you told him sternly.

"But it worked last time. And the time before that. And the time before-"

"Well, it won't work this time," you announced with an air of finality.

If anything, being in a relationship with Seungmin only increased the penchant for banter you both had. You both rarely disagreed on things, but went back and forth for fun anyways. You knew your boundaries and never crossed them, but argued like cats and dogs nonetheless.

Well, you called it arguing. Seungmin called it flirting.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You both finally pulled up at Seungmin's workplace and you snorted when you saw the building gates. Seungmin drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and looked at you with a smile that you gave back. It was his first day on the job as Principal.

It had been ten years since you stepped foot on the campus of Park Academy.

"The legacy of Principal Kims continues," you giggled, proud of yourself for making that joke.

"That's because Kims are superior," Seungmin declared.

"That is literally so offensive," you flicked him arm lightly.

Seungmin's eyes met yours and a familiar look in it made you outwardly dread and inwardly prepare to rebut whatever he was going to tell you.

"You shouldn't say that," he snickered, "Considering that you'll be an honorary Kim yourself soon."

Oh. Oh.

It would be a week until students started coming to campus, there classes yet to start. When Seungmin mentioned this to you, you asked if you could come along to see the campus once. The campus where you fell in love with him.

"You might be a hot shot CEO," Seungmin relentlessly teased, "But it's good to go back to your roots sometimes."

It was ironic how you called his mother more than he did.

Your feet subconsciously guided you to the library. You loved this library. It was the place where you spent some of the best moments of your life. This was where you slowly fell in love with Seungmin, uncovering him layer by layer until you could call him yours.

You felt a laugh bubble up your throat when you made your way to the Romantic Literature section. Seungmin gave you a poor attempt at a smile as he observed you. In fact, he looked extremely nervous, a sharp juxtaposition to the flirty demeanor of his just a few minutes ago.

You could count on one hand the amount of times you had seen Seungmin being nervous.

It must have been anxiety surrounding the promotion. You reached over to squeeze his hand and give him a reassuring pat. Once you were sure that he would be fine, you turned back to prodding at the books shelved on the wall as if they were part of some lab experiment.

Once you were satisfied, you turned to give Seungmin the signal to go, when you stumbled backwards at what was in front of you.

Seungmin stood down on one knee, a box in his hand, with the most beautiful ring you had ever seen inside it.

"What?" you asked, your voice shaky. Tears instantly began to spring up in your eyes.

This wasn't real. This wasn't happening. But it was. The man you had loved for a decade was here, in front of you, wordlessly asking to turn those ten years into the rest of a shared forever.

"I had a really dramatic speech planned," he rambled, "But I forgot since I'm kind of terrified and you do always tell me to speak from my heart so here goes nothing."

"I have probably mentioned this thousands of times, but I have felt a magnetic pull towards you since the moment I first interacted with you. I didn't know what it would turn into then, but I knew it was going to be something, and I have been eternally grateful that it was love."

"To put it simply: every single infinitesimal particle that makes me in hopelessly in love with every infinitesimal particle that makes you. I love you, so, so much. I have been yearning for a forever with you before I even knew it so; will you marry me?"

He stopped with a sniff and swiped the sleeve of his sweater across his eyes. "Shit, I wasn't supposed to cry."

It all came full circle, didn't it? Ten years ago, he asked you to prom. Ten years later, he offered you eternity.

You let out a laugh and threw yourself at him, peppering him with kisses. "And you said you didn't want to come to work today," you laughed in between your cuddle attack.

"So, this means yes?"

You face palmed. "This means yes, Seungmin. Yes, I will marry you. In every universe, I know that I will spend the rest of my life with you."

Seungmin gathered you in his arms and kissed you like he was burning and you were oxygen. Binary stars, burning and burning, bleeding into each other in every reality because, there could never be you without him, one without the other.

Ten years ago, you swore that you would be the last person Seungmin would ever kiss.

Ten years later, nobody could say that you weren't a woman of your word.

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

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[silv3rswirls]

Note: He peels an orange for you.

Also, ya'll prefer him to be called Vernon or Hansol in fics? I never know which to use as I personally don't mind either.

Warnings: None :) Soft, fluffy vibes

Requests are open!

You didn’t pay much mind when you felt Vernon’s weight press into the bed beside you, returning from a quick trip to the kitchen. You just kept your eyes focused on the show playing on your phone. You were snuggled under the covers; tucked tightly in thanks to your boyfriend as you tried to combat the cold. It was freezing, outside layered in snow with a bitter chill hanging in the air. You had decided not to leave your apartment, not even your bed if it could be helped. It was just too cold and dreary to muster up any will to move.

Your ears pricked at Vernon’s hushed voice, cursing to himself as he shifted in his spot. “What’s wrong?” You asked monotony, too invested in the movie in front of you to look away. He muttered something about getting you a snack but seemed too invested in his actions to properly answer. “Ah- sorry,” he huffed, prompting you to look over

“What are you doing?” You sit up a little. He was trying to dab away the orange juice that had leaked onto your sheets, a half-peeled orange in his other hand.

“I heard your stomach making noise.” He replied, “So I got you a snack until the food gets here.” 

“Really?” You begin to smile, moving closer to him and leaning your head on his shoulder. He had gotten back to peeling it for you. It feels quieter, the faint buzz of your movie fading into the background as you observe him. He seems so serious about doing the tedious task for you. The way his brow scrunches just slightly and how his eyes seem so trained on it. “You didn’t have to peel it for me” you laughed, watching him trying to remove the peel as perfectly as he could. It wasn’t though. It was messy and getting all over his hands. The sections broke apart and the peel hadn’t come off nicely at all.

“I wanted to,” he shrugs. “It looks kind of bad” he admits quietly, tossing the peels onto the plate and breaking off a piece for you. You smile and take it. What a simple task to brighten up your evening. How kind and thoughtful, though he was always doing simple, little tasks for you.

“Thank you” You break off a piece and hold it up for him to take. He does, sitting in comfortable silence with you just eating the orange.

“I love you” he looks over to you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before going in to peel a second to share with you. You watched him again; how kind, how thoughtful, he probably didn’t even realize how little, but heartwarming it was. Maybe you’d peel one for him next.

[shroomi1e]

❝ i object! ❞

kazuha + albedo

summary: you as a noble should naturally marry another noble, despite your love for another. your parents had managed to pry your lover off of you and get you wedded to a powerful nobleman- that is, until your past lover comes barging through the doors on your wedding day.

cw: gn!reader, arranged/forced marriage, teeny tiny bit of alcohol, angst to comfort

what i listened to while writing: wave - wave to earth

a/n: *slowly crawls out of my cave* hey guys. it's me again😭 i randomly got the motivation to write again, idk what demons possessed me to write this in the span of 5 hours but at least i have new content!!!! i was gonna do this with more characters but kazuha and albedo were the only ones i see pulling this cheesy-typa stuff tbh

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kazuha

“…what?”

your gaze fell down towards the wooden docks you were standing on. kazuha frowned, his grasp on your hand loosening. he was aboard the crux, and the crew was preparing to leave inazuma for another trip to liyue.

“i’m from one of the tri-commissions, kazuha,” you said defeatedly. “it’s over for us now. i’m going to be wedded as an alliance with another commission. i… i’m sorry…” but before kazuha could respond, the large ship began to sail away, his hands completely slipping away from yours.

kazuha leaned over the edge of the ship, watching your figure get smaller and smaller. though he hoped you would at least give him a wave goodbye, you simply turned around and left the docks of ritou, leaving him saddened and confused.

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kazuha spent the next month lost in his thoughts. ink blots were all that filled the pages of his journal now that he’s lost his muse.

“it’s over for us now.”

those words played in his mind like a broken record in hopes that maybe he could find a sense of doubt from those words, just a hint that it wasn’t truly over. he’s tried to understand, truly. but the thought of losing you ate kazuha up from the inside, especially knowing that he had no control over it. there weren’t any flaws in him or you that caused this, only circumstance. and that stung his heart more than anything.

despite kazuha’s wishes and prayers, the wedding would happen either way. news eventually reached his ears that two commissions from inazuma would be joined through a marriage between the two heirs, and that was when kazuha truly felt like he was losing control. you were being swept away so suddenly, carried away in the arms of another man. what was he to do?

you were being fitted into a kimono that very second, the maids tying the knots and wrapping the fabric around your body. your limbs felt heavy like lead, your head hanging low like rotten fruit on a tree. you tried to live in a fantasy just for at least a few moments, imagining that kazuha was the one you were being wed to, not a nobleman.

kazuha almost felt like a dream now that he was gone, as if he was only a fleeting imagination before you had to wake up to reality. the ephemeral touches, the honey-dipped sunsets, the smell of salt and the sea. that was all simply an illusion. you had to go back to the wooden floors, the inked papers and the melting candles. this was reality now, where everything was out of your control.

“this is all for the sake of our family, you know that?” your father’s voice broke your train of thought. “think of this as a way to pay us back for raising you. you’re much better off with a nobleman than that wandering fugitive anyways.”

you grit your teeth and tightened your fist, your knuckles whitening. “i know.”

the ceremony went through in a daze, the sacred sake tasting bitter on your tongue. a part of you felt like you should’ve just jumped on that ship along with kazuha. regret sat in your stomach like a sickly bag of bleach. but you knew it was for the better, both for you and your family.

after the vows, the priest then asked, “does anyone here object to the wedding?”

a heavy silence followed. the two of you were heirs to the biggest commissions in inazuma, it was obvious that nobody would dare to object this wedding. your gaze fell further down in defeat. it was really happening now.

“i object!”

your head snapped up from the ground and turned towards the voice. at the end of the crowd stood kazuha, the wind blowing softly through his hair, the golden light from the sunset outlining his silhouette.

emotions rushed through your chest: happiness, regret, sadness, doubt, and guilt. the cup you were holding dropped to the ground and shattered. the crowd began to murmur and gossip.

“kazuha,” you breathed out.

the crowd parted to make way for your lover, who confidently walked towards you and held his hand out. everything around you seemed to suddenly disappear the moment your fingertips met his. it was only the two of you now.

“kazuha… what on earth are you doing here?”

“i just need you to answer one question for me,” kazuha said softly. “do you trust me?”

by the way he eagerly interlocked his fingers with yours, his intentions were obvious. if you were to answer this question, it would mean throwing away everything you’ve known thus far: your family, your possessions, your wealth, your inheritance, your responsibilities. everything. but with the way kazuha was silently pleading you with his eyes… how could say no?

you let out a shaky breath. “i do.”

kazuha merely smiled in return, his eyes softening as if to tell you that everything was going to be alright. that he understood your choices, and that all you need to do was take this final leap of faith.

“hurry up kazuha!” beidou’s voice interrupted. a few meters away, the crux was anchored to the docks, the crew eagerly waiting to set sail. “the guards might come and take ya anytime soon!”

kazuha held your hand tightly and began running towards the docks, the two of you giggling as he helped you up on the ship. the nobleman, priest, and the crowd all watched in disbelief as you hopped onto the crux, sailing away with the samurai.

the crew cheered as you and kazuha shared a kiss of reunion, the anchor lifting from the seafloor and the two of you sailing away into the golden sun, just like you were meant to be.

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albedo

“i…see.” albedo’s eyes wander off to nowhere in particular after hearing your explanation. he blinks a few times as if to confirm that he wasn’t dreaming.

“it’s not your fault, albedo, and neither is it mine,” you added. “i hope you understand.”

for the first time since albedo was created, he feels numb. his fingertips lose grip as it all finally settles in. you’re leaving him for another man.

of course, he knows that’s not really the case. albedo understands your circumstance as well as the political powers at play, but at the end of the day, that’s what’s happening, right? you’re being wedded off to another man, which of course means you’ll have to leave him.

and when he sees you take off your ring- the ring he gave you- and put it on his desk, his heart shatters. you silently take your leave, disappearing into the dragonspine snow. albedo’s gaze is immediately pulled to the golden band on his desk, which seemed so much duller now that it wasn’t on your finger.

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projects seem more pointless than ever before, and piles of crumpled up drafts fill albedo’s trash bin. he’s taken down all the portraits of you in his home because it was too painful to bear, yet he can’t deny that he was still hopelessly in love with you. the thought of you standing at the altar with another man made albedo positively sick. and there was nothing he could do about it.

he even decided to abandon his projects to visit the city in hopes that he could catch a glimpse of you, but you never seemed to be there. he’d wander for what seemed like hours, only for it to be in vain. ‘of course,’ he tells himself, ‘they’d be busy preparing for the wedding.’

the ring in his pocket weighs heavier than before. he takes it out and twirls it in his hand, the afternoon sun reflecting off of it almost blindingly. the church bells ring in the distance, as well as the melody from the church organ.

wait… the organ is playing.

albedo clasps his hand around the ring tightly before frantically running up the stairs towards the cathedral. the scent of flowers fills his nostrils as he makes his way past the statue of barbatos and climbs the final flight of stairs until he’s met with the wooden doors of the cathedral.

he won’t lose you. he can’t lose you.

albedo’s hands feel heavy as his palm rests flat against the door. once the organs stop playing, the faint voice of a priest could be heard from outside. he can hear the nobleman say his vows, then you. his flat palm turns into a fist as he contemplates what to do next. he’s never liked crowds, nor has he ever liked being the center of attention. this could certainly ruin his reputation, and hell, the clan you’re getting married to might even get him fired but-

the thought of you being by his side again gives albedo more than enough courage to push against the doors.

“does anyone object to this wedding?”

with one strong push, the doors swing open. sunlight spills into the cathedral and forms a path of light leading to you. and dear lord barbatos, you look breathtaking.

albedo watches as you turn around in confusion. the ring you were holding in one hand clatters to the floor, echoing down the hall.

though albedo had planned on walking towards you, he couldn’t help but start running down the aisle. panting, he turns to the priest. “i object this wedding. i am their rightful lover, am i not?”

you step down from the altar, your hands reaching to caress his face and gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. “even after everything i told you… you still came. i tried so hard to hurt your feelings, so why are you here?”

despite the tears pooling in your eyes, you’re smiling. and that’s all albedo needed to see. “i must be going insane, y/n. i’m not one to act like this.”

he kneels down right then and there, holding up the ring with two of his fingers. “will you marry me?”

you take a moment to look down at albedo, who’s kneeling before you in a silent plead. the faint bags under his eyes are proof enough that he’s missed you. your family would hate you for this. doing this would mean to be shunned and disowned from your clan. the support you once had would dissipate in an instant. albedo might be put in danger as well. but you’d rather have nothing and albedo rather than everything but albedo.

“yes,” you said before sliding the ring on your ring finger, right where it belonged. you grab albedo’s arm and run out the cathedral, much to the protest of your family sitting at the pews.

you skip down the steps in a hurry before turning your head to see albedo smiling softly. you’re dolled up, and the afternoon glow of the sun hits your face just perfectly. and with his ring resting on your finger, albedo can’t help but simply adore you.

‘you are killing me softly,’ he thinks, ‘yet you seem to be the only thing keeping me alive.’

[leviathanspain]

little hell

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: you wished more than anything that he had left you to die in that arena, because nothing could hurt more than seeing him with her

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watching their ceremony had felt like you had drank poison. a burning fire had been brewing in your abdomen, and as they kissed, you had to swallow the bile that threatened to come out.

finnick had turned to face the onlookers, and smiled as he held annie’s hand. only you could notice the smile faltering as he gazed over you, and you looked down, not wanting to look at him any longer.

you had abandoned the wedding early, excusing yourself with the pain in your leg, that hadn’t bothered you since your days in the infirmary, but it was good enough.

you fought tears until you got behind closed doors, where with the commotion of the celebration, hid away the noises of your sobs. finnick knew, and you too had known, that annie would always hold a flame to his heart, but it was you who allowed yourself to fall in love, and it was him who gave you the hope.

days later, a soft knock on your door rang out and finally you had peeled yourself out of your bed to answer it. you couldn’t hide your surprise when you saw it was katniss, looking pale in her grey jumpsuit.

you let her in without question, and moved to sit on your bed, with katniss closing the door behind her.

you raised an eyebrow, “katniss. honestly you’re the last person i would expect to be here.”

katniss didn’t say anything for a moment, until finally, “i doubt you expected anyone at all.” you let out a bitter laugh, and nodded, “i suppose you are correct.”

katniss nodded, “but i’m not. finnick has been asking about you.”

you scoffed, “why does he even care? he’s a married man, he’s with her..” you trailed off, “im just here, the other woman..” you trailed off, and katniss swallowed thickly.

“i cant say anything for him,” she admitted, “but i will say that he is horrible for what he did- and how he lied to you both.” you nodded, forgetting completely about annie, who was oblivious to his indiscretions.

katniss had stayed with you for another moment, where she sat in a comforting silence.

finnick had been looking for you throughout the compound. he had hug onto annie as she did to him, but his eyes would still clear a room looking for you.

he had finally found you, and pulled himself away from annie with just a good enough excuse.

he made his way to you, and you turned to meet his eyes. you rolled your eyes, and sharply turned back on your heel, your feet carrying you to somewhere you didn’t even know you were going.

finnick called your name, desperation in his voice, you felt him hot on your feet. without thinking, he grabbed your arms, and threw you against the wall.

you gasped, and turned to see no one had even batted an eye at his slight aggression, but you were now in no position to ignore him.

finnick swallowed, looking down, “i’m sorry. for having to do this but you won’t talk to me otherwise.” you nodded your head slightly, and sighed, “and?” finnick inhaled, “i should have told you about annie. i- i don’t know what i was thinking.”

“i don’t either finnick. if you had any fucking brains, you would’ve left me to die out there, so you wouldn’t have to see my face around here, and feel that guilt.” you felt your eyes rim with tears, and you sniffled, “you should’ve killed me. done the mercy, finnick. and there’s not a day that goes by that i don’t hate you for what you didn’t do.”

finnick exhaled, and his voice felt shaky, as did his grip on your hands, “i know. i should’ve told you about annie, i should’ve stopped it but-“ he shrugged, “i love you.” he whispered.

you blinked and tears fell onto your cheeks, “you cant say that. you cant say that!” you pulled your arms free and threw him back. finnick fell back onto the wall and stared at you in shock, “you don’t get to fucking say that.” you yelled, and felt yourself heat with anger.

you shook your head, giving finnick one last look before you left him there.

[0ceanic-cosm0s]

To the Hellfire - chapter 2

[Josh Washington x F! Reader]

6.1k words

masterlist - one - two - three

chapter wrote by @sharkology & @xghostcr0wx

⚠️chapter warnings⚠️

[mature language, mentions of self harm, mentions of mental health issues, sexual tension]

"What the hell were you doing on the trail with Em, huh?" Matt tilts his head waiting for a response from Mike. This is not what you were expecting before meeting the last friends of Josh.

"What?" Mike asks in confusion but Matt's glaring gaze doesn't go away.

"I saw you and Em. Through the telescope." Matt replied shortly with clear agitation. Now you know why Matt was in such a sour mood before you, Chris, and Sam got to the lodge. You were still sitting next to Josh by the fire watching everything unfold. You want to look over and see Josh's reaction, but before you could Mike responded to Matt.

"Before? We just ran into each other. It'd been a while so we hugged and I said hello. Is that against the law?" Mike asks in the most laid back tone, as if there wasn't much to be worried about. You honestly didn't know what to make of Mike yet. This interaction between Matt and Mike is kind of weird and you have yet to introduce yourself to the latter.

"Right.. Yeah, duh." Matt doesn't sound so convincing but he continues, "Sorry. It's been kind of a long day, I overreacted." You're glad it didn't continue and you hear a sigh of relief next to you, coming from Josh. You look at him and give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, earning a small smile from him. You feel your throat dry a bit, reminding you of how little water you drank today. You remember Sam offered to hold your water bottle in her bag on the bus for you since it didn't fit in yours.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get my water bottle from Sam." You inform Josh and he nods.

"Don't keep me waiting too long," He jokes and you give him a lazy smile.

Once you're over to Sam, who's sitting on the stairs near Chris and Ashley, she gives you back your water bottle.

A new girl you have yet to see walks in. 'Must be Matt's girlfriend?' you think to yourself. She was a beautiful girl with short black hair, dark eye makeup, a leather fur lined jacket, and some expensive jeans. Just from her presence you can tell she means business, giving off an intimidating aura. You definitely didn't want to get on her bad side.

Before you can thank Sam, you're interrupted by a voice from across the room. You look to see the girl everyone refers to by 'Em'.

"Oh my God. That's so gross." She says while walking into the main area of the lodge, crossing her arms, a clear look of disdain on her face directed at Jessica and Mike's PDA. "Are you trying to swallow his face whole?"

All you can think about is how weird this is becoming. You're pretty sure there's much to the story you're missing, either way you can't help but think about how much Josh's friend group doesn't really seem to be on good terms with each other. Clearly something to do with messy relationships and friendships thrown in.

"No one wants in on your territory hunny." Emily continues.

"Excuse me, did you say something?" Jessica asks with sass, puts a hand to her ear, and gets up from the couch.

"Oh did you not hear me? Was your sluttiness too loud?" Emily rhetorts.

"I'm sorry, was someone bitter she didn't make the cut?" Jessica countered. This is what causes you to get the bigger picture of the situation. You start to disassociate from what's going on, mostly waiting for this to be over. You look at Sam who's on your left, sitting on the stairs next to you and she just shakes her head in disappointment at the situation. At this point you're pretty much stuck where you are, because there's no way you're going to walk back to Josh during this cat fight. You aren't trying to get caught up in it.

"Whatever, I don't give a shit what you think." You hear from Jessica after you tune back into the conversation.

"At least I can think. 4.0, bitch. Honor roll." Emily claps back with no hesitation. Matt's interjections only make things worse and before it seems like everything's about to come to a climax, you see Josh stand up to break everything up.

"Stop it!" Josh yells which is enough to catch everyone's attention. "This is not why we came up here. This is not… helping. It's not what I wanted." His tone lowered, no longer yelling.

"If we can't get along for ten minutes then maybe we need a little bit of a break, right? Mike, why don't you go check out the guest cabin. The one I told you about."

You feel bad for Josh, it seemed like everything wasn't going the way he'd planned. It's a shame that there's still some unresolved tension in the friend group that can't be put aside for one night.

"Yeah...Yeah alright. " Mike says in agreement, clearly just going along with whatever. He holds his hand out to Jess. "You want to go do that?"

She takes his hand mumbling, "Any place without that whore." Then Jess and Mike leave the lodge.

Matt does a mind exploding motion with a vocal sound effect. "Man, glad that's over." He says and Josh agrees. You overhear something about Emily losing her designer bag, so she and Matt end up leaving the lodge to go find it.

You start talking with Sam while you were waiting for Josh, presumably giving Mike the keys to the cabin. You ask her what she has planned for the night and she mainly just wants to take a bath and relax, which you find understandable. Afterwards she takes her leave to start a bath, leaving you, Chris, and Ashley.

"Alright, peanut gallery, you know what? I got an idea for you two." Josh turns to Chris and Ashley.

"What?" Ashley asks curiously and you look at Josh, interested in what's going on.

"Okay well, I am pretty sure that somewhere in this crazy place we used to have.. a spirit board." Josh claims.

"A what?" Ashley inquired in a worried tone while Chris was asking if he was serious.

"Yeah they're fun, right?" Josh replies and grins in response, but there was no way you were going to mess with a spirit board.

"Josh, you're kidding! You're not actually gonna use that thing, right?" You push him on the shoulder and he just laughs at your worried antics. "You can't mess with those." You continue to tell him.

"No, those things are a joke, man. They don't do shit." Chris brushes it off.

"No way, bro. We used to do it all the time. Me and..." Josh's voice trails off, "Well-" He's cut off by Sam returning from the bathroom upstairs, and maybe it's for the best. You could tell that the conversation was slowly leaning towards a sensitive topic; his sisters.

"Hey Josh,” she catches his attention, “No hot water's kinda major oversight dontcha think?" Sam reaches the bottom of the stairs and walks over to the rest of the group.

"Yeah yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler, it's in the basement." He responds, "You guys see if you can find the spirit board." Josh suggests, giving Chris and Ashley the task.

"Chris, let's go find it! It'll be like a scavenger hunt!" Ashley exclaims with Chris following right behind her.

"Just wait upstairs in the bathroom and I'll get the boiler working for you." Josh tells Sam and she nods, thanking him. “[Y/n], would you mind helping?" He turns to you, his eyes capturing yours and making you feel instant nervousness. It was something small, but it was Josh asking you to help him. And it made you feel useful to him.

"Of course!" You say, but you felt like you sounded a little too enthusiastic. You didn't want to seem too incredibly down bad, even though you kind of were.

“Alright, rad.” He gives you his signature lopsided grin, and to your surprise, grabs your hand in his and leads you from behind him. Your heart thumps wildly and your stomach fills with nervousness but also excitement. His larger hands were rough-in a sort of comfortable way. You didn’t mind though. He squeezes your hand gently as you both begin to walk, and it makes your body ignite with eagerness.

His actions did confuse you though, making you wonder if this was just a friendly gesture to help guide you through the dimly lit lodge or maybe something more. You wanted to say something, anything, but decided to just let it happen. You wanted to enjoy the moment.

He heads over to a desk, and pulls out a flashlight while he talks, still holding your hand firmly, “Hey, notice how I gave Chris and Ash a mission together? Yeah, I was thinking they could use some ‘alone time’~” He says the last part in a somewhat suggestive way. You roll your eyes, not too surprised Josh would do something like that

“They do seem very sweet together, they’d make the cutest couple.” You reply. Josh nods to your words. “I swear they just need, like, something to bond over, ya know? Some sort of traumatic event to send them into each other's arms. I mean at this rate they’ll be in the geriatric ward before Chris makes a move.” You softly scoff at his words, and he starts to walk with you hand in hand in the direction to the basement doors.

But before you two head in, he stops in front of you for a brief moment, a slight hint of seriousness in his tone as he talks, “Ya know [Y/n]..”

“Yes, Josh?” You say in a hushed tone, looking up at him curiously. Your mind was spinning from the eye contact, and it didn’t help that his fingers were still intertwined with yours. You mentally try to calm yourself down as he starts to walk again and continues, “I just wanted to say.. I…” He trails off, huffing out a sigh. You grow a little worried at his actions.

“What?” You inquire. He stops you and turns to face you once more. “It really means a lot to me that everyone came back this year and you know, that..You agreed to come along. Even without knowing anything about these people and seeing how they were a bit ago..” Your heart swells with warmth at his words. The way he was so sincere made a small smile appear on your lips.

“Josh, we’re here for you. Whatever you need, whenever. Just let us know. You can make it through this. All of us, together.” You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and he nods-continuing on down the stairs to the basement as he quietly responds. “Um, I just want us to have a good time, ya know?” You hum in acknowledgement.

You guys finally arrive at the breaker, and Josh lets go of your hand. You felt a small sting of disappointment from the loss of the heat between your guy’s palms, but you quickly brushed it off, reminding yourself it was most likely a friendly gesture.

“Hey sorry to drag you down into the bowels, I know it’s kinda dark and creepy.” He says as he leans down a bit with his flashlight, looking at the switches and buttons. You shrug, looking around at the old movie props and other stuff lying around. Probably from his dad. “Nah, it’s all good. I’d rather be stuck with you anyways.” You admit. He smiles, a playful glint in his eyes as he glances over. “Oh yeah? Did you have some sort of activities planned for us?” You scoff, gently smacking his shoulder.

“In your wildest dreams.” you say and he hums, looking back at the breaker with that adorable smirk.

“I mean they can get pretty wild, if you’d be a willing participant in them, Marbles?” He says jokingly, but there was a tone behind his words that suggested otherwise-though you didn’t pick it up. “Yeah right, you just keep dreaming.” You walk behind him, patting his back as you look around some more.

You spotted a baseball bat and grew curious of it, picking it up and swaying it around slowly. You turn to Josh with it. “Be pretty rough playing baseball out in all that snow.” He stands up straight and takes the bat from your hands as you gesture it to him.

“No it wasn’t in the winter, silly. I mean we’d come up for the summer and we would have the best time-the whole family was there Mom, Dad,…” His voice grew a little sad, and his expression dropped a bit as he continued, “... my sisters– It was some serious competition out there on the big lawn…I don’t know.”

Your smile fades to a small frown at his words, feeling a little guilty for picking up the baseball bat and having him talk about his sisters.

“Can’t go back..New reality, right [Y/n]?” You nod, and you want to say something, to at least comfort him-but he continues on and switches the subject quickly, putting down the bat. “Anyway, I’m supposed to be fixing this old guy, right?” He fiddled with the switches but no luck. He hands you the flashlight and you hold it for him as he fixes the breaker.

You were hearing some strange noises though, but thought it was just the old pipes in the lodge and ignored it, for now. Afterwards, Josh heads over to another switch panel and you follow.

“Alright just turn this knob for the water pressure while I flip the switch, think you can handle that?” You roll your [e/c] colored eyes at him, which he always found so cute; your little sassy side. “Pretty sure I can, I’m not five.”

He shrugs, walking back to the breaker. “Could’ve fooled me.” You shake your head at his snarky retort and turn the knob. Loud noises come from it once you hit the turn on button, signaling the boiler was up and running.

“Alright, good job Marbles! Gimme five.” You laugh as you give him a high five, finding it adorable yet the corniest thing. He closes the doors to the breaker, but again you hear a strange noise. “What the hell was that?” You question as you look towards the sounds. “Could be a lot of things..And none of them nice..” He says the last part in a deep sultry voice as he caresses and tickles your shoulder. It sent fiery shocks through your body at his touch, but you were a little scared.

“C’mon Josh, be for real.” You say as you turn to face him, slightly serious. “I’m just.. Just ’Joshing’ ya.” He jokes. You give a sarcastic laugh at him, earning a small one from him. “You were really freaked out huh?” You thought for a moment, thinking on what you should reply with. You decided to get back at him. You look over his shoulder, putting on a serious expression of worry and concern.

“Oh my God..” You whisper quietly. “Don’t move-“

“What?” He asks, mimicking your hushed tone.

“Something’s behind you..” He smirks, raising a brow in disbelief. “Yeah right.”

“Holy shit, Josh..Seriously. There’s something back there.” He slowly turns around, and you let out an amused laugh. He turns back to you and scoffs, a sweet smile on his lips. “Alright alright I see your point.” Just after he said that, another bang came from somewhere in the basement.

“Okay, so I’m not tripping. You hear that shit too?” Josh slowly moves in front of you, looking towards the area of where the sound is coming from. “Josh..?” You ask, a little nervous. “..What?” He retorts back.

“The rhythm is weirdly regular..” You whisper.

“Not..No..Nothing regular about it.” he responds back.

You walk closer to him from behind. “Maybe we should, you know, check it out?”

“Why?” He questions as you two cautiously walk over to the sound.

“I dunno, what if it’s like, a pipe that’s about to burst or some problem with the furnace?” You say, reaching out to his arm to hold for emotional support. You were getting a little freaked out, and needed something, anything to hold onto. “Unlikely.” He replies.

Josh pretended not to notice your hands wrapped around his arm, but on the inside his heart was racing rapidly, his anxiousness from your touch ought weighing the anxiousness from the mysterious banging. You responded, “If it were me I wouldn’t want this place to burn down on my watch.”

“..Yeah, right.” He replies. You let go of his arm and walk further to the strange sounds. And just then, a figure in a dark robe popped out of the corner. “NOPE!” You turn around so fast it almost makes you dizzy and sprint away, making sure to grab Josh’s hand in the process to drag him along with you. You two bolted from the stranger as they chased you, while you knocked down objects in front of them to slow them down.

You two made it to the door leading out of the basement, but for some reason it was locked? ”Now why the FUCK is this locked?” You yelled. “T-To keep out strangers!” Josh stuttered out. He turns around and protectively sticks his arm out in front of you as the clothed figure approaches you two.

“Hey..” It mumbles.

“..What?” You breathlessly question.

“Heyyy!” It repeats, sounding like a man’s voice. It was oddly familiar.

“..WHAT THE HELL??” You shout.

“Boom!” They removed the hood of their cloak, and it was Chris. “You just got monked!” He proclaimed proudly.

”WHAT??” You exclaimed, feeling your fear and shock turning into anger and frustration. Josh only chuckles, “Nice. Nice one, that was good.”

You stutter for a second, the anxiety you were having building up. “Why w..Why would you do that?” As you start to lay into Chris, you see out of the corner of your eye Josh looking you up and down. His green eyes drinking up your frantic form, and the way you were scared to death. It was almost like he enjoyed it. He bit his lip a little as he continued to stare at you while you tore Chris up like chopping up a fruit.

You try to ignore the way Josh is basically fantasizing about you right then and there and turn to him angrily. “Was your ass in on this putz??” You shove his shoulder slightly.

“Nope. But I wish I was! That was too fuckin’ good.” Chris and Josh high five each other, while you watched in irritation.

You guys opened the door and left. Your annoyed state calmed down a bit, and you started to reflect on the events of what happened. “Alright I’m ready to admit that your dumb little prank may have had a slight whiff of humor to it.” You say to Chris. “Jokemaster!” He exclaims back. As you two bicker, Josh locks the basement door.

“Well I said nothing about jokes, I said your prank, which was dumb-“ You continue but Josh cuts you off.

“Holy shit you were scared. Admit it.” Josh says as he places the flashlight on a desk. “I was NOT.” You protest. “Oh come on, you totally pissed yourself.” Your face was starting to get red from being flustered at being the only one who was actually the most freaked out.

You hear Sam call up from the bathroom, “Hot water’s running! Thanks guys.” Finally, you hear the voice of an angel, the only person who you could tolerate at this moment.

You and Josh call out a ‘You’re welcome’ to her as Chris and Ashley were talking to each other. You stand in front of the staircase while Josh tends to the fire. Ashley asks if Chris found the ‘thingy’ and he pulled out an ouija board from the robe he was wearing, making a goofy ass cartoon sound effect as he did.

You shake your head, “Nooope nope nope, I refuse to take part in that. You guys can have fun getting possessed and getting featured in the next Conjuring movie, but I’m out.” Chris laughs at your skittish behavior towards the board. “Aww, is someone getting scared again?”

“No, I’m being smart. It’s basic knowledge not to fuck with spirits. You’re not always gonna have Casper the friendly ghost come through. And this is Native land, so I’ll continue to be respectful of that thank you very MUCH.” Chris raises his hands in defense, turning back to Ashley.

You start your way up the staircase after grabbing your bag, but Josh really wanted you to stick around. As you make your way up the second floor, he jogs from the fireplace to the stairs, and to you, gently grabbing your arm. “Oh c’mon, you can’t be that freaked out [Y/n].” You huff, closing your eyes and lifting your head up in a mock snobby manner as you ignore him-continuing down the hallway to a vacant room.

“Wait-are you still mad?” He asks, following behind. You enter a cozy room, the moonlight casting a beautiful glow. You turn on the bedroom light and set your bag down as Josh joins you. “Matter of fact, I am. That ‘prank’ scared me to death.” You reply and sit on the bed, removing your snow boots. He kneels down in front of you and helps remove your shoes, and you let him. It was the least he could do.

“Hey I know that was pretty terrifying, I mean hell I was scared there for a second. But that’s just how my friends and I are. We just like playing stupid and goofy tricks on each other. Sorry you got caught up in it, I should’ve warned you.” His gaze was focused on your shoelaces as he talked, untying them and then slipping off the boot-going to work on the next one. But you could tell he was sincere.

You give yourself a moment to take in the view of Josh kneeling before you, giving you thoughts that aren't innocent at all. It's almost like he's in a worshiping position, just for you. Once he is finished with your shoes, he leaves you with your socks, his beautiful green eyes looking up at you. You thought for a moment what it would've been like if he just kept going and started taking off your clothes, and from the looks of it Josh was thinking the same thing. But you knew his friends were out there waiting for him.

"It's okay, I just really scare easily. I may have overreacted a bit." You admit, trying to shake away the lewd thoughts from your mind. However, you couldn't help but stare at Josh's lips. You can only imagine what it would feel like kissing him.

“No, I get it. You were scared, it's understandable.” he gives you a smirk before adding on, “but I will keep the first thing you said in mind.”

“Hey, you ass!” You lightly kick him in the chest in a playful way and Josh just laughs at you.

“Seriously though, you really don't wanna join in on the spirit board?” Josh asks, rising from his kneeling position and now towering over you from where you sit on the bed.

“I don't know.. I'm scared of those things, like giving unknown evils a way into my life.” You bite your lip and look away, remembering all the horror movies, legends, and so-called rules of the ouija board that you've grown up hearing.

“Hey, it'll be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. I've done it many times before.” He reassures you, putting a warm hand on your shoulder. You relish in the physical contact, craving more.

You ponder for a moment, wondering if you're really about to risk having a spirit haunt you over a hot man. But it's Josh, so how could you not give in?

“Alright, fine,” you relent and Josh lets out a childish ‘yesss!’, “I'm not going to play it though, I'll watch.” You add on at the end in a matter of fact tone.

“Okay okay that's fair,” He agrees, and you're glad he doesn't push you on it. Josh's hand that was once on your shoulder, glides down your arm to your hand, holding it in his. The feeling of his hand inconspicuously stoking down your arm sent shivers down your spine, making your stomach tingle with the need for more. You knew that Josh knew what he was doing. “Let's go.” He says, leading you up off the bed.

And Josh did know what he was doing. He has everything planned out, planned out as much as he could. Him kneeling on the ground to take off your shoes? He wanted a better look at you from below, in an intimate position. His light touches and stroking your arm? Hopefully it would send a big enough message that he's interested and down bad for you. He really does want you and from the looks of it, it seems like you're feeling it too.

When Josh was at the mental hospital, he just thought he was gonna be bored out of his mind and have to stay in that hellhole for a whole month with nothing to do besides having constant breakdowns and therapy sessions. But then you came along, and instantly he felt intrigued. You were breathtaking, even when you looked like you just got out of a fight with the embodiment of depression. You still had this vibe to you, like you still had this luring confidence and uniqueness to you under all that anxiety and suicidal thoughts.

As he grew to know you, he was even more infatuated. The way you would smile, the way your eyes would travel around while you disassociated, how your small little scratches to your arms would indicate that you were thinking of your self harm scars, he would take note and observe everything about you. He wanted you, he wanted to know everything going on in your head. And he wanted to know what you thought of him too. That’s why he invited you here, to his lodge.

Yes, he wanted to make all those fantasies he’s had about you come to real life after months of longing and having to stroke himself out to the thoughts to relieve his frustrations. But he also wanted to genuinely know more about you and your mentality. Overall, he just wanted time with you. He was, for the lack of a better word, obsessed with you.

With your hand in his, you both leave the guest room to regroup with Chris and Ashley. By the time you're in the room with him, Josh lets go of your hand and you find yourself craving more of his warmth.

“So you changed your mind?” Chris asks in a playful mocking tone, you just roll your eyes and smile.

“Nope, still not playing. But I'll watch.” You state and sit down at the table where the spirit board is getting set up. Josh is on your left, Chris is on your right, and Ashley is right across from you. You can't help but steal glances at Josh on your left, especially with how hot he looked with the candle light on him.

“To free yourself from the spirit world you must free your mind of all preconceptions, drop all inhibitions, and generally give yourself over entirely to the will of others, sublimating your every desire to the whims of the ‘spirit master’, which is me.” Chris reads the instructions but jokingly adds what he wants at the end.

“It doesn't say that.” Ashley responds to his antics.

“Aaanndd all present will remove their garments at my discretion-” Chris is cut off by Josh.

“Come on Chris, this is serious.”

“Oh I am deadly serious.” Chris says in a funny voice impression and puts his hands on his hips.

“Shush it, let's try this.” Ashley says, ready to get on with it and Josh adds a ‘Yes please’.

“Okay then, let's see what happens.” Chris surprisingly listens to them and continues, “Ashley, since you're a recent convert, why don't you be our medium for today?”

Even though you're just watching, you're starting to feel anxious and nervous about what could happen. You're worried if anything can happen to you from just being in the same room as people playing the spirit board. And you knew you were already making the wrong choice by choosing to put yourself around one. All those horror movies you grew up on really left an impression on you.

“Okay um.. Anyone there?” Ashley calls out, ”Will you reveal yourself to us… If you're there..?”

After a few seconds of waiting, you see the planchette start to move. “Oh my God, guys!” You exclaim and point in disbelief.

“Wait a minute.” Chris responds in a skeptical tone.

“Did you do that..?” Josh turns and asks Ashley but she immediately responds with denial.

“Oh it's moving again!” Chris comments before the planchette starts spelling out a word.

“H-” Ashley reads the first letter.

“Are you guys just messing around?” You ask, but your question remains unanswered. You aren't fully convinced, considering the jokes this friend group pulls on each other all the time.

“What's it spelling?” Josh is starting to sound more urgent, no longer emitting his laid back attitude which is starting to make you worry a bit more too. You shift in your chair from an uncomfortable and eerie feeling.

“Hold on-” Ashley tries to wait for the planchette to stop moving.

“How is this happening?” Josh continues sounding a bit more frantic, making you panic on the inside more. This is no longer feeling like a joke, and if it is one, it's a bad joke that's starting to mess with Josh. You thought Josh used spirit boards all the time?

“Are you moving it?” Chris asks as the planchette proceeds to move from letter to letter. He isn't convinced that this is actually real, probably due in part to not believing in the supernatural.

“I swear! It's just moving.” Ashley denied, but right as she said that, the word finished spelling.

“Holy shit…” Josh utters out and you sit in silent shock.

‘H - E - L - P’

“How are we supposed to help?” You questioned. you're clearly scared at this point, especially since it's your first experience with a spirit board.

“I don't know, what does it mean?” Ashley asks in response.

“We need to know who it is if we want to help them.” Chris adds on, and you look over to Josh to see his reaction which is unreadable at the moment.

“Who are you..?” Ashley questions the spirit board, waiting for an answer.

The pointer starts moving again and chaos ensues once more. Everyone started talking over each other in confusion, worry, and disbelief.

‘S - I - S - T - E - R’

This revelation makes your mouth open in shock. You don't know how to react so you just look over to Josh.

“Who’s sister?!” Josh asks in a firm voice, looking like he was trying to decipher what was going on.

“Oh c’mon is this for real?” Chris inquired, not believing what was going on.

“Shut up.” Josh snaps at Chris, “Ask who's sister.” You can tell Josh is getting serious, and you've never seen him in this type of way.

“Josh… it's.. it's gotta be-” Ashley is cut off but everyone here knows what she's insinuating.

“Yeah, okay well,” Josh turns to Ashley, “ask it which one!”

You put a comforting hand on Josh's knee. You don't know if it can really help, but it's the thought that counts, right? He gives you acknowledgment by sending a glance your way, almost analyzing your features.

“Ashley, ask who it is.” Chris says, dropping his playful attitude.

“Who are we speaking to…?” Ashley asks before continuing again, “Beth, is that you?”

Another wave of anxiety washes over you as you wait in anticipation. The planchette moves to confirm Beth's presence.

“Oh God.” Ashley utters in scared shock.

“This is messed up.” Chris shakes his head in disapproval.

“Josh, you don't need to play anymore..” You bring up, trying to get everyone out of the uncomfortable situation. Josh didn't look like he was doing too well.

“I'm fine.”

“Are you sure because we can stop-” Ashley is cut off by Josh, his eyes fixed at the spirit board.

“No.”

“Dude, it's cool-” Chris starts, but is interrupted before he can even suggest anything.

“I want to hear what it says.” Josh affirms, his eyes meeting Chris.

You're glad Chris and Ashley aren't trying to push him to continue playing, it's quite the opposite. However, you're surprised Josh wants to keep going in the first place. He's used spirit boards before though, so you assume it's for some sort of closure. His sisters are still technically missing, even though he told you he believes they’re dead.

“Think about it. If this is actually Beth, I mean, we can find out what happened that night.” Chris suggests.

“Beth… Oh Beth we want to apologize for what happened last year with Hannah and,” Ashley's voice starts breaking with sorrowful emotion, “if you can hear this, please please know that we are all so sorry.”

“You and Hannah. We're really sorry Beth, to both of you.” Chris adds on, taking accountability for something he had no control over and wasn't apart in.

You decide to stay silent. You didn't want to overstep any boundaries and you weren't involved with his sisters enough to have a say on anything. All you could do is observe and hope that anything doesn't trigger Josh in any way, but you think you're far past that point by now. His sisters were a triggering topic in general. The pointer starts to move again.

‘H - A - N - N - A - H K - I - L - L - E - D’

You let out an audible gasp, and Ashley follows suit. “I don't know if I can keep doing this.” Ashley admits.

“We have to.” Josh urges, not ready to give up just yet. You could tell this was important to him.

“Just- just stay calm. I think it's saying to us that someone killed Hannah..” Chris speculates.

Ashley asks how Hannah was killed. The tension in the room is thicker than ever and everyone seems to be on edge. The planchette spells out something about proof in the library before completely flying off board. You jump and let out a little yelp in response, covering your face to not get hit by it. Luckily, it flies past your face.

“You know what? This is bullshit. This isn't real.” Josh stands up from his chair with a distressed and shocked look on his face. He gives Chris and (mainly) Ashley an accusatory look. Probably because she was the only one out of all of them that was in on the prank last year. You stand up at the same time as him, ready to go after him if need be, but he doesn't pay too much mind to this, still freaked out by the current events. Hell, you don't even know if Chris and Ashley were joking. But from the looks of it, they wouldn't joke about something so serious. Especially such a touchy subject like his sisters. This had to be real.

“Josh, I don't know what's going on.” Ashley instantly claims and puts her hands up, voice shaky.

“Listen, I don't know– I don't know if you think messing with me is somehow going to help me deal with my grief or water but this is not cool.”

“Josh, no! You wanted to use the spirit board–” Ashley denies and tries to explain, but he clearly isn't having any of it.

“Josh..” You try to interject but It doesn't make too much of a difference.

“Hey calm down, it's not Ash’s fault.” Chris tries to reason with him to no avail, he's already making his way out of the room.

“I don't need this right now! Okay?! You guys are full of it!” Josh shouts, clearly upset before stomping down the stairs to leave the room.

“Should we go after him??” Ashley turns to ask you and Chris with a worried look.

“Don't worry about it, I got him.” You answered, gaining a nod from Chris and Ashley.

You leave down the same stairs Josh did, hoping to find him and somehow help. If he doesn't want help, you'll give him his space. You can hear Chris and Ashley’s discussion of the events that just took place growing further and further away as you look for Josh. You just hope you can make a difference.

[a/n]: next chapter is gonna be supper juicy and smutty so get ready 👌🏽

- 🦈&🦇

[lucysarah-c]

Mother's smile

Summary: Raging war, it turns boys into men. Author note: Since the Marley world seemed to be around the 30s-40s, I’ll set this idea in a world that looks like the mid-50s. This is POST WAR. I've no idea what is this... the idea just came into my mind. Warnings: None...Angst? Perhaps? Word count: 3.8k Pairing: Dad! Levi x Mom! Reader

The muscles of his body twitched as he ran up and down, changing the train’s platform to return home. His hair flowed in the air, almost freezing from the bitter cold. He could feel the icy air biting at his undercut and chilling everything in its path. Exhaustion escaped with every puff of his reddened lips, the air condensing in front of his face. Yet, he kept running, desperate to connect one train to another.

If he didn’t time it perfectly, his family might begin to suspect he wasn't going to practice. He had quickly changed back into his regular school uniform in one of the train station's public bathrooms.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a couple of girls. They couldn't be older than him, mumbling and locking eyes. He had no time to dwell on it, but he couldn't ignore it either. It was becoming a regular occurrence. People were starting to recognize him in the crowded streets of the capital.

"Why?" he wondered, even though he knew the answer. But he reasoned, "There are TV stars and movie actresses who take the train… I'm nobody."

He knew. Ever since someone took unauthorized pictures of him during practice, fully suited up, and they were posted first in the Paradise newspaper and then spread worldwide.

"Oh my- Sorry!" He almost tripped over someone. He quickly dodged a mother carrying two kids. "I’m SO sorry," he insisted.

"Please, something for my kids," she pleaded.

Levi's intuition told him something had been off lately.

"I’m so sorry… I have nothing," he replied, feeling a deep pang in his heart. The hunger and misery on the streets had only worsened since the war restarted.

—

"Could you set the table, love? Dinner is almost ready," Y/N said, breaking his deep thoughts as she handed him a pile of dishes. "It's just that the pot is old, and if I stop stirring it-"

"Sure," Levi quickly replied, not needing any further explanation. He stood up, grabbed the dishes, and wobbled a bit on his way to the dining room. "Tch," he clicked his tongue as he checked the clock. This was usually his son's duty.

Speak of the devil, the front door swung open. "I’M HOME!" Adrien shouted as he entered. 'Finally,' Levi thought. It was winter, and it got dark outside rather quickly.

"Welcome home, dear," Y/N said, peeking over from the kitchen to see her son taking off his shoes and coat in the hall. He quickly moved to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was starting to wonder."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, mom," Adrien said, hurriedly.

"Dinner is ready," Y/N announced.

Adrien rushed into the dining room and almost bumped into his father.

"Where the hell have you been?" Levi demanded, almost pushing the dishware into his son’s arms.

"Sorry, I'll do it-" Adrien began, but as soon as he got closer, Levi grimaced in disgust.

"Shower, now. You stink," Levi commanded, holding onto the dishes.

Adrien took a quick sniff and seemed puzzled by his father's reaction. Groaning, he quickly moved upstairs. Levi frowned and continued setting the table. "The hormones are certainly working," he muttered.

Adrien had been arriving slightly late recently, not enough to raise concern but enough to annoy Levi. "The train services are delayed by the power outages…" Y/N tried to explain. These issues had become common since the war resumed and was edging closer to home as Paradise's forces, led by a queen Levi once helped put on the throne, continued their campaign.

Unauthorized pictures of his son had made it to the front page. His baby boy, photographed by spies. 'They fucking did not.' HIS baby boy, mocked by Paradise's news.

Initially, Levi thought it was a fluke. He went to grab the morning's newspaper at the front door and noticed the front page was missing. 'Maybe the boy tore it without realizing,' he thought. The delivery was usually smooth, so he dismissed it. He figured he could grab another edition on his way to his meeting. But when he saw it, his blood boiled.

Levi was furious. He broke every personal vow he had made to himself, that whatever war Paradise and the Jaegerists wanted to get into after almost 15 years post-Rumbling was none of his business. But taking pictures of HIS son and making fun of him? He made calls to people he hadn’t spoken to in years and simply stated, "Keep my son’s name out of your fucking mouth."

Adrien had been offered personal 3DMG training by the government from a very young age. Levi and Y/N were not naive. They knew since Adrien was a little kid why the government wanted him. He was Levi’s only child. The only available Ackerman after Levi and Mikasa stopped the Rumbling.

Levi had decided to break ties with the Paradise government because they continued to support the Jaegerists. He moved to another country, seeking peace for his family. That country was one of the few places the Rumbling hadn't devastated. He, Onkopop, Falco, Gabi, his wife, and his kids lived a peaceful life for many years.

Falco and Gabi eventually moved out as they grew older, though they visited frequently. Levi wanted to give his kid the childhood he never had. But he couldn't protect him forever. Adrien had insisted on practicing with 3DMG after being offered the chance as a kid. Levi stood firm on his decision. No. It was a firm no for months. Adrien was going to have a normal childhood, playing sports with his classmates and eating lunches packed by his mother. Levi had moved across the globe for his family to live without war, his family by blood and the one he made along the way.

The door slammed, surprising him. The family dog rushed to bark at the sound.

"Addy? You okay, kiddo?" Gabi asked, as they were still living with them. Hearing his son's name, Levi got up and walked as fast as his injuries allowed. It was too early for Adrien to be back from school. Also, Levi was the one who usually picked him up.

Wobbling, he reached the bedroom door, which was unusually closed. Even before he reached it, his heart began to ache as he could hear his 7-year-old boy's muffled cries. Adrien's chubby legs dangled from the edge of his bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"Oi, oi, oi," Levi said softly as he reached the bed and tried to gently push Adrien’s shoulder to the side to see his face. Adrien resisted. "Kid, what happened? Why are you back from school?"

Levi's mind raced, searching for injuries, any sign of hurt. Trying to come up with reasons, his brain was haunted by his baby’s endless tears.

"They kicked me off the team," Adrien finally managed to say between sobs. "The mothers complained that it’s not fair that I play."

Levi's heart sank. It had been hard for Adrien to make friends as a kid from another country, and he was obsessed with baseball since being allowed to join the team. He loved having a group of friends.

"I hate it, I hate it!" Adrien's soul-breaking cries echoed as his young mind couldn't comprehend the reasons. "Why can't I be normal?"

Levi forced himself out of his shock, slightly shaking his head to clear his mind. "Don’t say that. You’re normal. I'll talk to your teachers-"

Talking had never been his strength. He wished his wife was home.

“No, I’m not! All my friends look at me weirdly! Nobody wants to play with me anymore!” Adrien screamed at the top of his lungs. The frustration of his father not understanding only added salt to the wound. “I hate it!”

“No, Adrien—I'll talk—”

“I hate being an Ackerman!”

Levi felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart. White noise filled his head, merging with the sound of his son’s cries. Levi argued with himself that it shouldn’t have hurt as deeply as it did. “He’s just a kid who wants to play with the others,” he thought, remembering all the arguments he’d had with sports teams.

“It’s just not fair to the other kids, Mr. Ackerman.”

‘Next time, just point to my head,’ he thought bitterly. Watching his son sit on the benches with doe-like red eyes, trying to hold back tears at school, haunted Levi. He had come to pick him up and was forced to stay behind while the rest of the team practiced.

Falco and Gabi tried to play with him when they had free time, but they had their own responsibilities. Levi himself tried to play with Adrien as much as his injured leg allowed, but how fun could a one-on-one game be?

For many months, Levi refused to let Adrien take special training offered by the government. He knew they only saw his son as a potential new weapon.

“Daddy, did you see me? Did you see me?” Adrien’s face lit up with a smile that seemed too big for it, brimming with excitement after mastering a new 3DMG trick.

“Mm-hmm,” Levi hummed in approval, watching his son with a mix of pride and concern.

“He’s a prodigy, sir,” the female soldier standing next to him remarked. “You must be such a proud father.”

Levi’s death stare could hardly be disguised as he clenched his teeth. ‘This is wrong,’ he thought, but his hand, missing two fingers, reached for the Polaroid camera and took a picture. ‘It can’t be that wrong… if he’s smiling like this.’

“And then I twist! And then I jump! And then I—” Adrien rambled on excitedly at the dinner table.

“Addy, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Y/N gently reprimanded him, but he continued to beam, bright and cheerful, happy.

If teaching his boy everything he knew about 3DMG made him smile again, then perhaps it was worth it. He did it for his baby, only for his baby.

Adrien had grown into a moody teenager who now stole his car and rarely talked to Levi without an attitude. Levi wasn’t usually the melancholic type, but he missed the days when he was greeted at home with tight hugs and dreamy eyes.

Now, the war was getting closer to home. Paradise, untouched during the Rumbling, was growing increasingly tense. The Jaegerists wanted to finish what Eren had started, and the new regime wasn’t open to negotiation. They demanded blood; they demanded fire.

Admiring his reflection in the mirror, Levi noted how tired he looked. Time was unforgiving. He spotted several grey hairs among what used to be pristine raven locks. History seemed to be repeating itself, and sometimes he felt like he had fought for nothing. Small towns that were slowly rebuilding after the Rumbling were falling under the power of an island he had once defended with his blood and sweat.

The tie felt tight around his neck as he adjusted the bow tie. He had been asked—almost forced—to attend a charity event to raise funds for displaced refugees and military forces. They had declared war only a few months ago, and he felt strangely hopeless. “I’m just old,” he whispered to himself.

“Hey…”

Levi turned to his left to see his 16-year-old son leaning against the door frame with folded arms.

“Hey,” Levi greeted back cautiously. “I’ve no money,” he added quickly, the interaction feeling odd since Adrien rarely came into the couple’s bedroom, much less to talk to him.

Adrien rolled his eyes so dramatically Levi thought he might tear a muscle. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything!”

The teenager walked in and sat down on the bed, petting the cat. His long face and distant, translucent eyes were hard to ignore. Levi watched him for a while before turning back to the mirror to continue getting ready. The silence was so heavy it felt like breathing steam from the Colossal Titan.

After several minutes, Adrien's voice broke the silence, trembling with emotion. “You… you know I love you, Dad, right?”

Levi turned around, frowning deeply. “… What did you do?” he asked instinctively.

“Nothing!” Adrien's defensive tone only made him more suspicious.

“You got a chick knocked up?” Levi guessed quietly.

“W-what?!” Adrien’s face turned beet red with embarrassment. “NO!”

“What—”

“NOTHING! I did nothing!” Adrien protested, jumping up from the bed and heading for the door. “I’m never saying it again, you old man!”

The door slammed, and Levi clenched his teeth. The mood swings were something he wasn’t used to, no matter how hard he tried. Levi clicked his tongue. ‘What’s gotten into him lately?’

That was the issue; everything had been slightly off. Not enough to raise serious concerns, but as Levi walked downstairs to leave for the event, his mind kept replaying the scene in their bedroom. ‘Something smells off.’

‘I may be getting fucking old, but I’m not crazy.’

“He’s trying to grow up. Let’s show him that we trust him. Let’s give him some freedom, as long as he respects the curfew,” Y/N had tried to explain that shutting their son off wasn’t going to help.

Adrien’s insistence on coming home on his own… Levi had always driven him to and from school, especially since the school was quite far away by public transport. After the photo incident, Levi didn’t feel it was safe for his kid to walk back alone.

The front page of the newspaper had been missing the day his boy’s picture and the Paradise headline appeared:

“The Ackerman’s Cub: As Harmless as a Pussycat.”

Levi cursed at the memory, yanking his coat from the hanger by the door. Arms in—

It was too big.

He looked down at the sleeves, which hung past his hands. A part of his ego cracked a little—it was his son’s coat. His baby boy was growing non-stop, now 193 cm tall.

“Soon, he won’t fit through the damn door,” Levi muttered, half offended, half endeared. He wondered if he would have grown that tall if he hadn’t suffered so much as a child. “He truly inherited Kenny’s height,” his wife would say as their kid grew taller and taller.

Putting on his own coat—it was freezing outside—Levi sat in his car, but his mind kept circling back to it.

Adrien arriving late by only 10-15 minutes. His recent attitude wasn’t just typical teenage sulkiness; it was different. Adrien was distant but not moody.

Already at the party, Onyankopon, Falco, Gabi, and Y/N were talking around him, but Levi wasn’t there, at least not mentally. Call it the universe, call it signs, call it his Ackerman instincts. Call it what you want. But Levi knew something wasn’t right.

Suddenly, fragments of memories from the past month flashed through his mind. They hadn’t seemed suspicious at the time, just slightly unusual. Like that moment when he picked up something from Y/N’s boudoir table and got pricked by a needle.

“Ow,” he muttered, though it didn’t really hurt.

“Oh, I left a needle out? I thought I put it away,” she said innocently, placing it back in the sewing box.

Or when he was walking down the upper floor’s hall and noticed the string hanging from the attic hatch swaying. “Y/N, did you go to the attic?”

“No, why?”

“Nothing…” He meant to ask Adrien about it but got distracted by the teen blasting his record player.

Levi opened the door without knocking. He had warned Adrien to keep the door open multiple times. The teenager quickly turned down the rock music. “Hey!” Adrien complained, but Levi didn’t care.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep the volume down? I’m half-blind; don’t make me deaf too,” Levi ordered. Before leaving, he added, “And get your shoes off the bed.”

Levi’s leg tapped against the floor uneasily. Something was not right. The silence of his brain seeking a logical explanation was becoming deafening. His wife squeezed his arm, drawing his attention.

“Captain Ackerman,” a man approached them, bowing slightly out of respect. Levi’s days as a captain were long gone, but he never lost the title in the eyes of some. “It’s an honor…”

The man’s hands fidgeted nervously as a timid smile appeared on his face. He pressed his lips together, wet them, and then opened them as if trying to find the right words. “It must fill your heart with pride that you and your family stood up in such a difficult situation and did the right thing. As a representative of the Eldian community outside Paradise, we don’t stand with the Jaegerist decisions—”

Levi dismissed him quickly. “No need to praise me,” he cut in, anticipating the man’s gratitude for his role in the fight against Eren during the Rumbling. “I fought for what I believed was right.”

The man’s face twisted in confusion. “No—I…” he stammered, his previous uneasiness turning to confusion. “I wanted to thank you and acknowledge your family’s altruistic action.”

“No need—”

“I mean, it must be an honor but also extremely hard for you as a father to allow your son to volunteer for the front lines.”

It hit Levi like a thunder spear, just as the one he had once used against Zeke. As if the explosion had gone off right next to him, and he could only hear the ringing in his ears. Y/N’s grip on his arm loosened in shock before her nails dug in as the realization sank in.

Despite his Ackerman powers, Levi felt control over his body slip away as his legs shook. It felt impossible to breathe as he drove back home as fast as he could, but it surely felt as if his lungs caught no oxygen.

He slammed the door open, his injured leg giving way as he rushed upstairs to his son’s bedroom. Pain fading into nothing as it once did during the war. The white noise in his brain was shattered by Y/N’s piercing scream when they found the bedroom empty, except for a single paper note on the made bed. Falco held Y/N as she broke down in tears.

Levi’s face remained expressionless, but it felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. Holding the note in his hands, he sank onto the mattress. The bed where he had once read Mother Goose stories.

“I’m sorry… I just couldn’t sit back and do nothing.

P.S. Sorry for the coat.”

His baby, his baby boy. The mere thought of Adrien witnessing even half of what he had as a soldier brought tears to Levi’s eyes, a knot forming in his throat. His child, stolen from his arms, dragged into the chaos like pigs to a slaughterhouse. Everything Levi had fought for, everything he had done…

If only he hadn’t used that thunder spear, he would be as good as new. He would have fought a thousand wars and led a thousand more just to keep his baby safe at home. To wake up to Y/N making his favorite waffles on a lazy Sunday morning.

It should have been him. He should have been in better shape. If only—

After a few days, Levi understood what Adrien meant about the coat in the note. His lost eyes fixed on the piece of clothing that had been cut. His old scout���s jacket, stored in the attic, had been altered. Adrien must have cut and sewn the Wings of Freedom patch onto something else. The house had become a cemetery since the day Adrien left. Y/N hadn’t been able to sleep soundly as she usually did, waking at the slightest sound.

“I thought I heard the front door,” she said, as Levi tried to calm her down in the middle of the night.

Levi hated rock music; he found it too noisy. But one afternoon, he felt compelled to put on one of Adrien’s records. Each second felt like it was squeezing the life out of him.

As the days passed, the missing front page of the newspaper became a sign enough. The news arrived loudly at their home.

“Undaunted. As the higher-ranks abandoned the zone, giving up the strategic petrol supply, Adrien Ackerman held the front lines and won.

A kid worth an entire army, honoring his name.”

Levi’s eyes scanned the paragraphs without emotion. “While all wore the same uniform, Ackerman decided to stick a striking patch to his. ‘They called me powerless, so I made myself an easy target. If they want to come for me, let them come, and I’ll put up a fight,’” the article quoted Adrien.

A scoff escaped Levi’s lips; he had surely inherited his temper.

“I cut and stuck the article to my locker to remind myself who I have to show their place,” Adrien replied when asked about the Paradise press’s coverage.

“LEVI!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the house. He rushed to her side with worry, only to find her smiling softly and sobbing as she watched the black-and-white TV.

The screen showed his baby boy, his comrades ruffling his hair, beer bottles flying in celebration, and citizens offering him drinks. They hadn’t won the war, but it was clear this victory was much needed to lift their spirits. People looked at Adrien with starry eyes, much like they had looked at Levi after their first wins against the Titans.

Levi’s lips trembled as he bit the inside of his cheeks, trying to hold his composure.

“He’s alright,” Y/N whispered, slightly relieved. “God, he got your knack for giving me a heart attack.”

She tried to joke, but noticing her husband’s silence, she turned around. “Oh… Lev…” she sighed, quickly moving to hug him tightly.

Tears streamed down Levi’s cheeks as he watched his baby on the screen, basking in the attention and hope he gave to others. They hadn’t won the war, but for now, it was enough.

“We knew deep down we couldn’t shelter him forever,” Y/N said, caressing him. She understood the weight now on Adrien’s shoulders, responsibilities that had haunted Levi for many years. She sighed, making peace with herself. A part of her had known from the moment she gave birth to an Ackerman that this day would come.

However, through watery eyes, Levi saw something different. Watching the young man on the screen, Levi whispered with a broken voice the same words he had said when Adrien was born.

“He got your smile.”

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A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 4 - Next

"I really hope Lin doesn't come to check on you, she'll kill me."

You said, sighing and gently applying cream to Curly's face, neck, and collarbone, as it was red from sun exposure after you had fallen asleep in the meadow until a light drizzle woke you up to return to the house. 

Curly: "I don't think so... She'll understand."

"Pfft, yeah right, I'm going to be horribly scolded by her if she finds out, she was always strict with me." 

Curly: "It seems like we're not talking about the same person."

"Of course we don't, you talk about the one who was your fiancée, I talk about my older sister."

Those words lingered in his mind, unwilling to understand that the woman he had met could be so different with him than with her own family. 

Curly: "...How have she been?"

"Mm... She has two children, Mike and Agatha, aged 20 and 15, they are good kids, she is married to Jake, he isn't home much because of his job, but he earns well, they all seem to be happy. Mike left home at 15 anyway, but he keep in contact" 

It certainly hit him hard to know the age of the eldest son, thinking there was an extraordinary chance.

Curly: "Let's say... Mike, how does it look?"

It piqued your curiosity when he asked that, until you put the pieces together. 

"Mike isn't yours, don't worry, he's an exact copy of Jake, even with the same allergies. Trust me"

Curly: "Then I should have been in cryostasis a bit longer... Isn't that right?"

"Didn't those capsules only last 20 years? They found you before the energy ran out."

Curly: "Maybe there was a miscalculation-"

"Lin said you had 2 months left in that capsule, if they found you later you would be dead." 

Curly: "Maybe someone-!"

You were startled when he suddenly approached you, you could see the nerves and desperation in his eye, along with his agitated breathing.

Curly: "If the boy is 20... That means she..."

"...I'm very sorry that... The person you thought you knew wasn't really as perfect as you thought..." 

You shrugged, looking at the ground, not knowing how to console him upon learning that his fiancée, while he was doing his delivery job, had been cheating on him with someone else, with whom she later married after he didn't return. 

In that instant, Curly realized something: all the effort, everything he had achieved, the ladder that had cost him so much to climb to the top, simply crumbled in a second.

You heard him start to laugh, or maybe sob, it was a strange mix of sounds he was producing. 

Curly: "I have nothing left... I can start over-"

"Okay, you're scaring me— I don't know if you're happy or sad—" 

Curly: "I don't know either!" he said, letting out a laugh. 

"I'll go get your pills and water." 

You got up from your seat to go get that, but you stopped when you heard someone knock on the door. 

You sighed, running your hand over your face. 

"It's like she have an alarm and it knows when I do something..." 

You knew very well that he was waiting behind the door, so you went to open it trying to put on your best face. 

Mike: "Hey, aunty" 

What a surprise you got when you saw your nephew with his mother; the boy took a step forward to give you a hug, which you reciprocated. 

"What are you doing here?"

Mike: "Mom told me you were back in town, so I came to see you, can I come in?"

Linda: "Come on, remember there's someone else here, I have to talk to (Y/n)"

The boy rolled his eyes without looking at his mother, as if to say "I didn't ask you" while he walked into the house. 

Linda: "I hope you're not doing the same thing Dad used to do and giving him his pills with chocolate."

You crossed your arms, looking at her in silence, you weren't going to admit that you almost did it once, but then you retracted and you gave him all his medications with a glass of water and maybe a candy if it felt too bitter in his mouth. 

Linda: "Of course," she ran her hand over her face, "You love giving people placebos, you always do the same thing."

"Just so you know, that's how your children learned to swallow pills without fear." 

Linda: "Don't you think what you're doing is horrible? The medications are wasted in your hands."

"I'm not stupid! I haven't done that in years! Stop treating me like a child!"

Linda: "Stop acting like one then!" 

She took you by the arm to pull you outside so you could continue arguing, closing the door so nothing could be heard from inside. 

Curly: "...I had never heard her scream..."

He mentioned sitting in the dining room with the boy in front of him. 

Mike: "That's how she is, she has a nice personality with people outside, but when it comes to family, she scolds you a lot." 

They both stared at each other for a moment, until the boy rested his face in his hand, smiling at him.

Mike: "So you are the famous Curly, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

Curly: "You must be Mike"

Mike: "The same, my mom used to tell me about you, saying that I was your son, that was a great story until I started having suspicions, and at 15 I found out I was the biological son of the man she is married to."

Curly: "Why would she lie about something like that?"

Mike: "Why? So they don't think she was slut, that she got married because she got pregnant, she lied to everyone saying it was your baby, and they believed her. When I was born and you didn't come back, then she could do and say whatever she wanted." 

The man fell silent, thinking about what kind of person he was going to marry, and how he couldn't see through her and notice her deceit. 

Curly: "I was... Used to seeing the image in general..." 

Mike: "At least you got saved, and I'm glad my aunt is taking care of you, she's great, right?" 

Curly: "She is... extravagant, to say the least." 

Both were startled when they heard the door slam open.

Linda: "Mike! We should leave now, darling." 

"Get out of here already! Don't even think about coming back!"

The difference in voices was very striking, one so calm and the other so agitated.

The boy said goodbye to Curly by waving his hand side to side and got up to leave with his mother, despite not liking the idea. 

Once again, the door slammed shut, and a muffled scream was heard; you had taken a pillow from the couch to scream into it and not make too much noise. 

Curly sat there, not knowing what to do or say about it, until he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen, leaving a glass of water and the pills for that schedule. 

You were standing next to him, your head turned in another direction, wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't take the pills on his own. 

You sighed, taking a seat and helping him take the pills. Then he could see it, the red mark on your cheek. 

"You just need to continue with some medications for a couple more months and then you won't have to keep taking all these horrible things." 

Curly: "When I am self-sufficient... What will happen?"

"I guess I'll leave," you shrugged. 

Curly; "Oh"

It was the only thing he said, he wanted to say many more things but, he couldn't, so he just decided to accept the solitary fate that sheltered him.