#(to my mom an stranger. No contacts around there. Know nothing of that girl or her family) and then gladly helped pay my

[mrfoox]

Still thinking about how my mom is either very trusting and believe in my judge of character or she's a bit careless but..

[chelseeebe]

everything has changed

you and steve were once the bestest of friends, cruelly torn apart when you’re forced to leave hawkins suddenly. fifteen years on, everything has changed and yet, nothing has changed.

i had this idea a while ago and then have recently become re-obsessed with the song so decided to give it a rewrite! it’s kinda giving seven x everything has changed and i love that. i have a sitcom level idea of a part two for this but i’m not sure it’ll ever come to fruition

18+. no smut but my blog is 18+ :) mostly just fluffy friends to lovers stuff hehe

‎♡‧₊˚

“you promise we’ll be friends forever?” steve asks, quirking his little eyebrows up. still so innocent, so unaware that the world was a cruel place.

“i promise!” you’d shrieked, toothy grin beaming over at him as you sat poised on the climbing frame. “we’ll write letters every week and in the summer you can come and visit!”

steve whooped with glee, the metal frame shaking from the force of his body, “okay! my mom has your mom’s number so i can call you,” grubby hands clinging onto yours.

you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug, wobbling atop of your tower. full of hope and your shared joy. oblivious to how the next 15 years would play out.

-

life hadn’t been so kind as to keep the two of you in contact. steve’s mom had tried to explain it to him, but his poor seven year old brain couldn’t quite grasp it.

it was only when he was older that he had realised what had happened.

you had been whisked away to california, your mother’s home state, far away from your dad. for your safety of course. his mother had warned him not to mention where you had gone to anyone, and he’d stuck by that.

and really, life had gotten in the way of thinking about you too much. basketball tryouts and getting girls into the back of his bmw had taken precedence over fading thoughts of freckly girls he once knew.

steve was at college now, admittedly tagging along with robin, but he was enjoying it. he played basketball, studied children’s education and had even scored himself a kinda stable girlfriend.

he’s sat in the library, book open and unread in front of him on the table as robin attempts to convince him to go out tonight.

“it’ll be fun! besides, i promised my roommate that i’d go.. y’know she’s having a hard time,” turning on the puppy dog eyes that more often than not, worked on him.

he groans, “i don’t know rob.. finals are coming up soon and i really need to get this down if i wanna graduate with you,” though he makes no effort to actually pick up the book, more interested in the coffee robin had used as a bargaining chip.

“steve,” almost warningly, “come for an hour,” nodding at him, as if to subliminally make him agree, “and then i’ll help you study all day tomorrow, okay?” tilting her head, bright green* eyes glistening at him.

“fine,” succumbing to her pleas, “but you owe me,” sending a glare across the table as he finally turns the page.

robin grins, happy she’d gotten her own way. again.

-

they walk arm in arm into the bar, squeezing through the crowd as they attempt to locate robin’s mysterious roommate.

steve sighs, whispering into robin’s ear, “why do i have to be here? just because your roommate is a lonely weirdo, doesn’t mean you have to drag me out too,” pouting like a petulant child.

she pinches his arm, causing him to yelp into her ear, “this is why i used to pray for the ceiling light to fall on your head in mrs click’s class,” pulling away from him as she spots whoever she’s looking for.

“wait.. what?” he calls out after her, weaving through the crowd to find her again.

she has her face buried into someone’s shoulder, blabbering about the busy bar and how good it was to get out.

robin pulls away, gesturing over to steve as this lucrative stranger meets his eye.

it’s you.

the little girl who had promised to be his best friend forever now stood before him, all grown up. he almost doesn’t believe it. in fact, he can’t. not until you speak, his name echoes around meaninglessly.

“what the fuck?” he gasps, still in utter shock.

“it’s really you? you’re.. oh my god, you’re steve of course you are,” wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, the exact way you had fifteen years ago.

you even smell the same, a distinct sort of vanilla smell that takes his mind hurtling fifteen years into the past. he almost wants to throw up from the turbulence of it all.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” you gasp, still nuzzled into his shoulder, “this is so surreal,” now holding him at arms length, dissecting his face in the same way he was yours.

you looked the same and yet completely different. no more gappy smiles or sun bleached hair, very pretty. his seven year old self had thought so too, but your friendship had meant more.

“you two know each other?” robin perplexes, watching the scene unfold with zero context.

“we.. uh- yeah,” unsure of how much he can divulge, still under strict orders from his mom to never tell a soul where you’d gone.

“we were friends, i was born in hawkins so.. god, this is so weird,” you exasperate, letting go of his frame to talk to a bewildered robin.

“you’re from hawkins? you told me you were from california?” robins face twists in confusion.

“it’s a.. complicated story,” you look back at him, still trying to decipher if he was even real, “i moved away when i was young but we were like, best friends,” baring your teeth with your smile.

“well shit, i’ve got time,” robin laughs, sliding into the booth, she looks up at steve, “drinks on you.. you know, to celebrate,” wiggling her brows in that irritating way she did when she wanted something.

he dutifully obliges as you begin your story, he supposes that now you probably can.

your dad had moved out of hawkins a while ago, it wasn’t exactly a secret as to why you guys had just up and left so abruptly. steve had always hated him, made sure to glare daggers into his back when he and his mother would pass him in the street or in melvalds. he felt he owed you that.

plus steve was angry, angry that you’d had to leave him behind because of your dad. his tiny mind couldn’t comprehend that it was for the better, only understanding that it was your dad’s fault his best friend had been taken from him.

steve’s curious about california, how your life differed from hawkins. you play it off as nothing special but you smile differently when you speak of afternoons after school spent on the beach and learning to surf.

he makes some off-hand comment about making it out which causes your brows to furrow, “so did you,” tapping the table in front of him, “remember we would talk about college? living in a big house together?”

he chortles, almost choking on his beer, “yeah, with ten dogs and three cats,” shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.

“wow..” robin butts in, “so you did this with other girls before me?” faux-offence written all over her face.

you beam, looking between the two of them, “so are you guys dating?”

steve does choke this time, sputtering as the bitter liquid slides down the back of his throat.

“no!” they chime in unison.

“jesus christ, you think i’d date him?” robin falls into a fit of giggles, it didn’t hurt his ego anymore. robin had very particular tastes and that very much didn’t include men.

“thanks rob..” he snarls jokingly, “i uh, i have a girlfriend.. just not robin,” he’s not sure why he’s apprehensive to tell you. christ, he’d only re-known you for five fucking minutes.

“sorry, i just assumed..” shrinking into your seat, desperate to change the subject.

he’s modestly pleased that you don’t ask any more about his girlfriend, which in turn makes him feel a rotten sense of guilt.

“yeah well, to assume makes an ass out of you and me,” robin adds, giving you a poke to your ribs for good measure, “and he’s definitely not my type,” her nose shrivelling up in disgust.

you snigger, poking robin right back as she explodes into her myriad of reasons why she would never date steve. she kept a list.

there’s a sickening feeling of affinity, like all the years you hadn’t been together just ceased to exist, they no longer mattered.

especially when your eyes meet as robin prattles on, like you’re sharing an old joke.

he doesn’t like this, doesn’t fancy his odds of coming out of this unscathed but that doesn’t stop him from shifting his chair closer as the night goes on. nor does it stop him from walking you home, supporting a tipsy robin on his arm.

and it most certainly doesn’t effect him when you hug him goodnight, nestling your chin into his shoulder the way you used to.

fuck.

-

steve climbs down the steps into the strange smelling studio, he hadn’t even known this ever existed. there’s art littering the walls, the shelves, just about any surface that was available.

you’re at the back of the empty room, dabbing a paintbrush onto a canvas, completely unaware of his presence.

“hey.. robin said you’d be down here,” he speaks softly, so as to not startle you.

you still jump, clutching your chest as you spin on your heel, “jesus christ,” panting rather dramatically, “you scared the shit outta me,” shock turning into a wide smile.

“sorry,” he chuckles, weaving through the easels, trying his damn hardest not to touch or knock anything over, “what ya’ working on?” peering at the canvas.

it’s a beautiful scene, a lone swing set lies in the middle, surrounded by a peachy-pink sunset. it’s reminiscent of something he can’t quite place.

“oh just..” shrugging him off, “some stuff for my exhibition.. i dunno if i like it yet,” downplaying the glorious work of art in front of him. as if there were any need.

“what are you talking about? it’s so good,” still clinging onto his backpack strap.

you shake your head, taking the apron off of your body, tossing it onto the hook full of other dirtied aprons. “i can do better.. anyway, did you trek all the way down here for a reason or..?”

he lingers by the painting for a second longer before turning to face you, remembering his actual aim, “yes! are you joining us for dinner tonight? robin wants you to meet all of our friends,” he offers, though he’s aware it’s not much of a deal for you.

“uh.. who’s gonna be there?” you ask, quirking a brow. he’s aware that you’re not exactly a social butterfly.

“well, nancy, jonathan, vickie.. argyle, if jonathan can convince him to come out,” they were all nice enough, if he and robin liked you, they definitely would too.

“i dunno..” wrinkling your nose.

“come on,” he pleads, “it’ll be fun.. they’ll love you. nance’s been begging me to get you out.. please?”

you shake your head, as if weighing up your options, “okay.. fine, but dinner’s on you,” as you drop the pallet into the sink for someone else to deal with.

“great,” he beams, there’s something to be said about the fact he still hadn’t introduced katie to the rest of his friends yet.. but he doesn’t wanna think about that.

his hand comes to rest on what he thinks is a dry desk, waiting for you to finish up, only to find his hand now covered in goopy white paint, “oh shit,” he fusses, pulling your attention from the sink.

“oh fuck, i should’ve told you that was wet..” looking between his outstretched hand and his eyes, a giggle bubbling on your lips as he stomps over to the sink.

“oh is this funny to you, huh?” joining you at the basin.

you run the hot water for him, grabbing the bottle of soap ready to clean his hand, “well it’s a little funny,” lips twitching while he stands like a lemon.

as steve normally does, he acts before he thinks, pressing his paint-covered palm to your cheek, only registering what he had done when you shriek in response, splashing water everywhere.

“you asshole!” you gasp, brows furrowed as you conjure up something for revenge.

that’s when you grab the still paint-covered brush and smear it over his cheek and nose, staining his features a daring bright orange.

“oh it’s like that is it?” he grins, grabbing your wrist with his clean hand, threatening to mark you again. “you don’t wanna mess with me, i’ve got the upper hand,” sticking his tongue out slightly, unable to shake the way your eyes still glistened the same.

“if you want me to come to dinner, you’ll put your hand down.. call a truce,” bargaining with him.

he obliges, holding his hands up in surrender, “okay.. okay, you win,” unable to contain his laughter as he washes the paint from his palm.

you shoulder barge him as you come back to the sink, pulling your clean brushes from the water and leaving them to dry on the metal board.

“we’re gonna have to swing by my room,” you smile begrudgingly, shoving your stuff into your bag, watching as he dries his hand.

“okay,” his grin still lingering, “personally, i think you should just come to dinner like that.. it looks great,” enjoying the ribbing that came with being your friend.

you scoff, practically pushing him out of the studio, ensuring he couldn’t wreck havoc on anything else.

the pair of you glide down the hall, steve filling you in on the guests that would joining you for dinner when a voice calls his name from in front.

katie bounds up to him, smile fading the second she sees the new colour of his face, “why are you orange?” face screwed up as she rescinds her offer of a kiss. he’s slyly thankful that your adorned his face now.

“oh we.. i- i tripped, got paint everywhere,” he chuckles, feeling like a scolded child.

katie hums, “right.. that’s kinda weird,” her eyes flit over to you and the paint on your face, “you trip too?” a judgemental look flashing across her features.

“no,” shrinking into yourself, “steve.. tripped,” doubting your own words, like your measly paint fight needed to be kept secret. but maybe that’s just how he felt, is that wrong?

he can’t decide.

“hmph,” katie frowns, her attention turning back to steve, “go and clean up.. you look like a clown,” before speeding off down the hall, ponytail flouncing around as she goes.

he just rolls his eyes continuing out of the building as you scurry along behind, “she seems nice,” sarcasm dripping off your tongue.

“ignore her,” brushing the whole encounter off, “she’s just.. pissy because i’m busy tonight, don’t take it personally,” offering a short smile. he glances at his watch, grimacing at the time, “oh shit, we’re late,” grabbing your hand as he starts sprinting ahead.

“i can’t meet your friends like this!” you holler, bounding behind him.

“they won’t mind!” he screams into the wind, dodging other students with a skill only possessed by someone who chronically sleeps through their alarm.

they really don’t.

in fact, robin bursts into laughter as you walk into the diner, “i’m not even gonna ask,” tapping the plush cushion for you to slide in next to her, steve follows closely behind.

the two of you share a look, an inside joke that was just yours. he liked that, it made him feel strangely important. like he was worthy of sharing things with just you.

everyone is lovely, obviously. he had no doubt that they would be. argyle corners you about california, discovering that it is a rather large state and no, you won’t have bumped into each other.

steve doesn’t want the night to end, he’s selfish like that. so he does the sane thing to ensure you spend as much time together as possible, walking you and robin back through campus, still adorned with paint.

“thank you.. for making me go,” you smile coyly once you reach your door, robin had already disappeared off inside, leaving just the two of you.

“no worries.. i told you they’d love you,” shoving his hands into his pockets, mostly so he doesn’t do anything stupid.

you chuckle, reaching for the door handle, “i’ve really missed you, you know? it’s like it’s all hit me at once,” shrugging your shoulders as if that were just some nonchalant comment he would ever be able to forget.

“i missed you too,” he adds, truly meaning it.

sure, he’d found friendship again but nothing had ever felt quite like you. it was different, and even now after years and years of being in separate states, with no idea that the other was even still alive, it all felt normal.

like you could walk back into that park tomorrow, sit on the swings and just natter away about everything and nothing like you used to.

“goodnight, see you tomorrow?” you smile, sliding through the door, waiting just long enough for his reply.

“of course,” returning the smile.

he hums all the way home, a child-like joy overrunning his senses. he thinks about you when he dreams, of sharing crayons and candy. high-pitched giggles and an unfaltering feeling of love.

-

it had been weeks of hanging out now, sharing tales from your childhood, robin was still struggling to understand that you were also from hawkins. “you’re just.. it’s crazy, you’re nothing like the usual hawkins dwellers and the fact that you were friends with him? wow..” she had muttered with a swift jab to steve’s arm.

she had had the bright idea of a sleepover, they hadn’t really been able to since moving to chicago, out of respect for their roommates but now her roommate was you, what was stopping them?

“why don’t we push the beds together?” robin blurts out, like a lightbulb had just gone ding on the top of her head.

you nod excitably, going to heave your bed across the room. steve pushes the end of the bed frame, connecting it to robin’s as she stands there doing absolutely nothing to help.

“phew thanks robin, couldn’t have done that without all your help!” steve quips, throwing his best friend a snide smile.

“shut up dingus, my nails are still wet,” as if that made it okay.

you smile at the two of them, stood in your pyjamas that steve had definitely not been gawping at. he doesn’t mean to, he knows it’s not like that. he has a girlfriend for christ’s sake.

that’s what he’s been telling himself anyway.

“you’re in the middle,” robin declares, looking at you, rather than him, “put your cold feet on somebody else for once,” before climbing into her side of the bed.

you slide in next, cuddling up to robin as you do. steve’s next, fashioned in his excuse for pyjamas, namely a chicago university shirt and his boxers. it probably wouldn’t go down well if katie were to find out but he didn’t particularly care.

there’s a joke there, something about sharing a bed with a lesbian and his childhood best friend but he can’t be bothered to think about it.

not when you turn over to face him, all smiles and warm cheeks, he has to remind himself that robin is on the other side of you, mumbling something about not waking her up early.

“goodnight,” you grin, relaxing into the pillow you shared as the light flickers off.

“night,” he replies, pulling his eyes away from your shadowy features, deciding that staring at the fuzzy ceiling was better than being a freak.

you roll over slightly, head falling onto his shoulder making his breathing falter, sworn to this position until you up and moved. it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

he shouldn’t be thinking like this, you’re friends, old friends to be exact. and he has a girlfriend.

-

except, he awakens in the morning, stiff shoulder and a cricked neck, taking a peek at the other side of the bed to find robin had forced you into him with her sprawling limbs.

you rouse not long after he does, blinking at the light and hurriedly moving your head from his dead arm.

“oh my god,” you remark, “i’m sorry.. was i on you all night?” wriggling around the small space you held.

steve exhales, lifting his arm in the air in an attempt to get some blood flowing back into the extremity, “yup.. it’s okay though,” quickly rolling over to face you, “sleep well?”

“well, apart from robin’s foot in my back.. yeah, pretty well,” chuckling into the pillow as you shy away. he wishes you wouldn’t.

“then it was worth the dead arm,” returning your abnormally bright smile, you were far too chipper for this time in the morning but he didn’t mind. made a difference from the usual grump robin was in, for sure.

“you should sleep over more often,” you smile.

he heart soars, god he’d love to. “oh yeah? like we used to?”

the crinkle by your eye returns, remembering times gone by, “yeah, just like that,” speaking softly, as if it wouldn’t take an industrial alarm to wake robin.

“you wanna go get breakfast?” he asks, before this devolves any further.

“absolutely.”

-

there’s a knock at the door, tommy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even make a half assed effort to pretend to care so steve huffs and gets up to answer.

you’re stood on the other side, already smiling as you wait. it’s a welcome sight, without robin he’s been a little stir-crazy, not yet brave enough to venture to your room without her there.

maybe he’s afraid that something would happen, maybe he’s not. he’s not entirely convinced that he’d have the power to stop himself.

“i just came to give you a ticket.. for my exhibition, it’s on saturday so.. if you’re busy i totally get it,” you fret, offering out the ticket to him.

there’s an undetermined feeling in his stomach, looking down at the paper ticket in his pal, warmth rushing to his chest at the fact you’d even considered him.

steve steps out of the room, closing the door behind him, away from tommy and listening ears. tommy and katie were friends somewhat, mostly by association through his girlfriend carol. anyhow, he wasn’t keen on him telling some misconstrued story to carol and then reaping the punishment from that.

“wow..” still starstruck that you had asked him. “i’ll be there.. wouldn’t miss it,” sliding the ticket into his pocket, mostly so he would stop looking like a weirdo for staring at it.

“okay,” you nod, smile up to your ears, “it’s only small..” here you go again, downplaying your talent as if steve would ever care.

“stop it,” he warns, jokingly rolling his eyes, “hey, i’ll walk you back.. i needa get out of that fucking room,” gesturing for you to take the lead.

you chatter all the way across campus, talking about everything and nothing, he wants to ask if that painting of the swingset will be there but doesn’t. letting you blabber on about composition and the asshole gallery manager that wants you to set up at 6am.

its only when you reach your hall that you stop, turning to face him with a genuine smile that makes his heart thud.

“it’d really mean a lot if you came..”

he nods, stepping closer only just, “i will, i’ll be there,” assuring you as much as he could. he meant it, too. there’s really nothing he could think of that would make him not go.

he allows his gaze to slip to your lips, he lets himself do that even though he shouldn’t.

studying the curve, the slight gap between your bottom and top lip, the way they twitch with what he hopes is anticipation.

you’re both inching closer, neither of you acknowledging what’s about to happen. the air is thick, silent even. a knowing sense that you’re either about to ruin everything or become something more.

two doors down, a door swings open, a voice bellowing out, “i’ll catch up!” before a boy speeds out, glancing at the two of you briefly before disappearing.

you clear your throat, averting your gaze, studying the dirtied floor, “okay.. i’ll see you saturday,” coy smile as you unlock the door and potter off inside.

steve stands there, blinking at the wooden frame as if you’d somehow materialise from the other side.

he hightails it back to his room, in some sort of daze as he attempts to reconfigure himself. his relationship and his friendship with you. nothing made sense.

he’s not sure it ever will again.

fuck he wishes robin were here. of course she’s at some stupid family reunion when he needs her most. his next port of call would be you and well.. that didn’t seem particularly helpful.

he errs on calling robin, floating around his room with no purpose. at least tommy was no where to be seen, unsure if he could’ve handled his beady little eyes and snooping questions.

katie would be waiting on him, he always stayed over on thursdays, at least he used to. before you were back i. the picture. before you had completely consumed his mind with your stupid smile and stupid face. both a distant memory and an important part of his current life. it’s fucking dizzying.

it’s not really stupid, he thinks he’s stupid actually.

steve does what he does best and decides to ignore his brain, grabs his keys and storms out of his dorm. he’s grateful that katie’s house is on the opposite side of campus from your building. that way he couldn’t accidentally wind up there instead of where he’s supposed to be.

she welcomes him in, a pink, frilly house that steve had always detested a little bit. it smelt too strongly of vanilla and the other girls always side-eyed him, bitter and judgemental over something he couldn’t figure out.

it’s now that they’re sat on katie’s satin bedsheets that he realises that he really, really doesn’t want to be here.

nevertheless, he swallows it down. putting on false pretences as they fake-watch the shitty rom-com she’d turned on to fill the silence.

“so.. have you got your suit for saturday?” katie asks, playing with his limp hand.

“yeah,” resisting the urge to move his hand away, “sorry- saturday? i thought it was tomorrow?”

katie had asked- or more precisely begged him to escort her to this senior send off ceremony. some bullshit sorority ritual that made zero sense to him.

“uh.. no, always been saturday,” she’s still smiling, still trying, “steve, i told you weeks ago,” her frustrations seeping out of her pores, spilling over onto her features.

“you said friday,” so sure of himself, so sure that she was wrong. how would he forget that?

unless something, or perhaps someone was shrouding his mind.

“well, what plans are more important than your girlfriend’s senior send off?” she asks, all defensive.

he struggles to answer, there’s no way he can really spin it to make it sound less bad, strangled noises drift from his throat as the words fail to form.

“exactly,” katie pouts, crossing her arms over her chest, “you’ll just have to rearrange.”

steve doesn’t stay over, makes up some shoddy excuse about needing to study to get out of it. she’s not happy, obviously, but when is she?

he’s grateful that the campus is quiet as he stalks back to his dorm, thoughts swirling through his brain. everything is so confusing, his cushy little college life had been majorly disrupted and now all of the plans he had made had come crashing down.

there had been conversations about finding a house after graduation, moving in together randomly starting their life and yet, that couldn’t be further than what he wanted.

at least now.

-

steve finally gives up, turning to the only person he thinks will rationalise his thoughts, robin buckley. who has pulled her grandmother’s phone into the private dining room just for this conversation.

“we nearly kissed,” he spits out, eyeing the group of drunk students passing in the hallway. wouldn’t it be great if it somehow got back to katie through some nosy busybody.

“what? when? why didn’t you call me sooner?” she demands, “why didn’t you kiss? oh my god steve harrington, you’re so useless.”

“uh.. what do you mean why didn’t we kiss? remember my girlfriend? who’d chop my balls off if i ever cheated on her?”

“who cares? nobody likes her anyway,” robin roars right into his ear.

“i’m not gonna even acknowledge that.”

“okay, well, did you want to kiss her?”

steve pauses, perplexing the situation. he doesn’t need to really, of course he wanted to.

“..yeah.”

“well there you go!” she shrieks.

“it felt.. weird, i dunno, i think she wanted to too,” he curls the cord around his finger, “and now katie wants me to go to this senior send-off thing but there’s the exhibition.. i don’t know what to do,” his shoulders slumping.

“wait wait wait, what do you mean it felt weird?” dismissing his dilemma. you know, the thing he had actually called her about.

“well it felt right.”

the line goes silent but he can still hear her faint breathing down the line. she’s thinking, probably attempting to sweeten up her words. but eventually she sighs, “i think you know what to do.”

“but i don’t! rob i really don’t! why do you think i’m calling you at fucking one am?”

she clicks her tongue and steve can picture what smug look she has on her face, it was a signature feature of hers, especially when she’d been able to prove him wrong. “you do. i think you called me because you wanted me to tell you what you want to hear.. but i don’t even need to do that.”

he wails into the receiver, all he’d wanted was a clear cut answer from his best friend. a little advice and maybe some confirmation bias, was that too much to ask for?

“you’re no help,” he scowls, patting his now empty pockets in search of more coins, “i haven’t got any more change.. i’m gonna have to go,” sighing as he’s left on his own with his head once more.

“you’ll do the right thing, steve. i know you and i trust you,” before the line cuts out, the dial tone screams out.

he slams the piece of useless plastic back onto the holder. that wasn’t helpful, rather just some weird, reverse psychology lesson. he feels cheated, his first option of just flipping a coin would’ve been more helpful.

his feet drag along the carpet back to his room, swallowing the guilt and all of the other confusing emotions he seemed to have accumulated.

it’s funny that even though robin hadn’t exactly said anything specific, he’d known what she was talking about. it’s even funnier that as he climbs into bed, all he can think about is you.

-

steve hangs back, stood at the back while the speech finishes. he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, what he’s supposed to be looking at or talking to, incredibly out of place.

no one pays him any mind, too interested in whatever this balding man has to say.

you don’t spot him either, keeping your eyes trained to the art director. he can tell you’re nervous, picking indiscreetly at your hangnail, chewing on your cheek. you’d never liked, or been particularly good at public speaking, steve was your voice for many years. not that he minded.

there’s lots of chatter, people walking around the small space with their hands behind their back, putting on this facade that they were art snobs and not just weird middle-aged people looking for something to do on a saturday afternoon.

they all sort of disperse, ogling the paintings and such. leaving him stood in the middle of the room like a lemon, wondering if he should just go over to you or wait until this had all finished.

but you meet his eye momentarily, head snapping in his direction when you realise who it is. your lips slowly curve into a smile, ditching the conversation to weave through everyone to him.

“you came,” you state, like there was ever a chance of him not coming.

“i told you i would,” he’s not one to break a promise. ever.

“no i know but, robin mentioned something about your girlfriend, she didn’t know if you were.. forget it,” throwing your hands about, ridding the air of your words.

he’s not exactly surprised that you’d have doubts, not after your almost-kiss the other night. he hadn’t seen you since, too busy with the exhibit to sit and dwell on it, he bets.

steve shakes his head, “nah, i had something more important to do,” full of unbridled exhilaration, it’s like his body knew he had made the right choice.

you flush, avoiding his eyes as you usually do when you’re nervous or embarrassed. “well.. thank you,” shrugging him off. he so wish you wouldn’t.

he decides to just lay it all bare, tired of skirting around the truth and minimising his obviously very real feelings. “this isn’t the right time but,” smoothing down his wrinkled shirt, “i just wanted you to know that i’ve wanted to do this for weeks and.. shit,” he sighs, cupping your cheek and moving in before you can protest.

your lips connect, sending flames through his veins, you’re not expecting it judging by the lack of movement on your part, stood frozen even as he pulls away.

“sorry,” the first thing he says, watching your face as you stand shocked.

he was so sure that his feelings would be reciprocated, had pretty much convinced himself that you were destined to grow grey together but maybe he’d got it all wrong.

his cheeks burn as you just blink, time slows and he wishes that the floorboards would just collapse under him so he could disappear forever.

in lieu of a reply, you smash your faces together again, this time steve’s not quite expecting it, your noses bang against each others. but he doesn’t move, his smile growing against your lips.

there are a collection of muttered oohs from the crowd. it was rather a lot for a saturday morning.

“sorry,” you echo, biting down into your bottom lip, “not the wrong time at all,” your eyes shining through your spindly lashes.

steve bursts into laughter, drawing an even bigger crowd of eyes as he does so. his eyes dart around the vaguely stunned audience, “hey look, find me after.. i’ll be here,” gently pushing you off to go and do whatever the hell it is that artists do at these things.

you nod, all dazed and smiley, immediately falling into conversation about a painting.

-

he’s only dozing when the door creaks open, too encapsulated by sleep to bother to open his eyes. you’re dead to the world, snoring softly curled into his chest.

a quiet gasp rings out from the door and then just as expected, robin bounds over to your bed, poking his arm that was both underneath your shoulders and hanging off of the bed.

he peeks a look at his slightly deranged best friend, the lamp was just bright enough to showcase her enthusiastic grin, “you did it!” whispering far too loudly, “i knew you’d make the right choice,” buzzing around the room.

she damn near jumps in the air, clicking her heels together like some freak.

steve just closes his eyes again, falling back into sleep with a grin on his face and you between his arms.

[talesofely]

— Desired Reality - Uno.

A Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader Series

Summary : Six people who claimed to be from another universe arrived at the Avengers Tower out of nowhere. The fact that the group of people—NOVA—are essentially Avengers clones only serves to further complicate matters. The only unmistakable distinction between them is that they are of opposing sexes. How will things play out for the two groups of superhumans?

Word count : 1.5k

Warnings : Nothing that I know of.

Next - Series Masterlist.

"Is this it?" A red headed male asked, looking around the unfamiliar yet familiar building in front of them. Nathaniel.

"If the smarties' calculations are correct, then supposedly, we are where we need to be." The youngest member of the team replied with a small sigh. Stephanie.

"Of course it's right, it's us. When are we ever wrong?" The richest member of the team snarked back, making sure to add a sassy eye roll. Antoinette.

"When you said everyone in our team is straight." The archer responded in a tone so flat that you could mistake it for a serious statement. Clarissa.

A chuckle erupted from the quietest member of the team. "She got you good this time." Brielle.

"Bite back, Ms. Snarky." The group's ray of sunshine egged on, wanting to see drama unfolding in front of her very eyes again. Theodora.

"You guys will seriously argue any chance you get, huh?" A white haired female said with annoyance. Everyone immediately stopped talking as if it was their mom scolding them. Y/n.

"Six people are exiting the building. Two on your right, Steph. Two on your left, Brie. And two directly in front of us." Everyone immediately went into full alert mode, ready to fight if necessary.

Just like you said, six people came out of the building. Surprise was immediately shown on the Avengers faces when they saw the six people standing outside the building.

Steve Rogers, Captain America, was the first to speak up. "Who are you?"

"Luke, I am your father." Antoinette said seriously, making direct eye contact with the super soldier.

"Luke? My name isn't Luke." Steve furrowed his brows in confusion as the group of strangers infront of them tries to stifle a chuckle.

"Idiot, it's 'No, I am your father.'" The archer of the younger team would never pass on an opportunity to piss the young billionaire off.

"No? He says 'Luke', you dumb bitch, not 'No'." Y/n let out a loud sigh once those words left Antoinette's mouth, knowing this will lead to a long fight again.

Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who didn't want to go through the banter between the two girls.

"We're you, from a different reality." Steph answered seriously and truthfully, stepping forward to hide the two girls arguing and ignoring the confused looks on the heroes faces.

Silence immediately enveloped them, the avengers trying to study the unfamiliar faces infront of them. You decided to break the silence, knowing that you all didn't have time for staring contests.

"I believe it's best if we speak about this matter inside." You said with a friendly smile, revealing your dimples on both cheeks. Your london accent also surprised everyone, but no one chose to comment on it.

"And how can we trust that you won't try to kill us?" Steve asked, stepping forward to try and intimidate the group.

"Cuff us then." A chorus of disbelieving 'what?!'s could be heard from the younger group. A raise of your right hand, however, was able to silence them.

That didn't stop the quiet cursing and swearing from your group however.

"So you're saying that, you're us, from a different universe?" Tony asked with furrowed brows. They were in the avengers meeting room, the younger heroes all had cuffs on their hands, much to their displeasure.

"Yeah. I'm you," Annie said as she pointed at Tony. "from another reality, wherein you're a gal."

"Wait, wait, wait. So what are your names then?" Clint asked reluctantly, crossing his arms as he stared at the cuffed heroes.

The Vigilantes all looked at you first, seemingly asking for approval from their 'leader' before revealing important information. When you nodded, Clint's counterpart broke the silence.

"I'm Clarissa Francesca Barton, they call me Claire. I'm you, Hawkeye."

"Stephanie Grace Rogers, Steph." Steve raised his brows in surprise at his supposed female counterpart.

"Roxanne Brielle Banner. Guess you can call me Brie." Bruce nodded at his counterpart who just raised a brow at him in response.

"I'm Theodora Odinson, you can call me Thea. Hi, Thor." Thor waved at the girl who smiled at him in return.

Everyone then looked at Annie, who raised a brow at them once she noticed their gaze. "What? I wanna go last."

She sighed before rolling her eyes. "The name's Antoinette Edelle Stark. It's Annie for short, not Toni, not Nette, not anything else."

Tony smiled in triumph when he confirmed that he looks good in every universe, despite being the opposite gender.

"I'm Nate." The only boy in the team said flatly, earning a huff of annoyance from you.

"He's Nathaniel Alister Romanoff." You finished for him, ignoring the look of betrayal on his face.

"I'm Y/n Dawn Maximoff, according to our research, I'm Pietro Django Maximoff. I also have a twin," Your eyes shifted to Wanda, a look of understanding flashed in both their eyes. "His name was Walker Marco Maximoff."

"Wait— I appreciate knowing your names, but that doesn't prove anything, much more being from another universe." Steve asked, still cautious against them.

You sighed in annoyance, you didn't appreciate being asked multiple questions, especially again and again.

You stared at the keys of the handcuffs on the table away from you. You frowned and shifted your gaze to the cuffs on your hand, and suddenly it disappeared.

The avengers looked at you in shock, immediately going into a fighting position when you stood up. You raised your hands in the air to show you weren't doing anything fishy.

"Care to help us here, Y/N/N?" Annie said sarcastically, raising her hands that are still in cuffs.

You walk over to them and touched each of their cuffs that magically disappear each time. You walked over to Cap who backed away slightly. You scoffed and held out your hand that somehow now had all the cuffs.

"Take it, then I'll explain." You threw the cuffs at him, which he caught easily.

Nathaniel walked over to you and frowned, seeing that your wrist had red marks around them from the cuffs being too tight for you.

"Who placed cuffs on you? They need training or something." He said, adding a soft 'tsk' as he examined your wrists. Steve brows raised in surprise, obviously taking offense from that.

"I'm fine, Nate." You pulled your hands away from him and gave him a subtle glare for touching you.

"Anyways, as I was saying-"

"Are you two dating?" Your words were cut off by Natasha's sudden question. You raised your brows in shock, before smirking in amusement.

"Interested in my dating life, are we, Ms. Romanoff?" You asked, smirking teasingly. You saw a few of your members letting out a huff of annoyance hearing you flirting again. You chose to ignore them.

"No. We just don't appreciate having a couple in the team." She answered flatly. You tried reading her even if you knew very well you couldn't.

"But according to our research, you and Mr. Banner over there, had a small thing going on." You countered, raising a questioning brow at her. You didn't know why you even mentioned that, you and Nate really aren't a couple anyways. Maybe YOU are curious about her dating life.

Bruce cleared his throat awkwardly. You didn't let the obvious awkward tension in the room deter you, instead, you sat on the arm rests of Nathan's chair, crossing your arms as you look at the team boredly.

"Being romantically attached to someone doesn't affect my team's performance in the field, don't worry." You saw Steph and Nate giving you a thankful smile, which you gladly returned as a teasing one once you saw them holding hands underneath the table.

Silence overtook the meeting room. The avengers were trying to read you and your team, while your team were just relishing in the fact that you guys know I'm something that the older heroes don't.

"As much as I like the confusion on your faces, we'll have to tell you why we're here." You paused, looking at Steph, a silent cue for her to explain.

"Our universe is fucked. Someone fucked with us a week ago, they wanted to destroy our reality. Luckily, we were able to somehow freeze the entire timeline there. We need to go back in time to fix this mess, to be able to prepare, to avoid our universe from disappearing."

"So you want to create a time machine in this universe to travel back in time to your universe?" Steve asked, his brows furrowing even more than before.

"Yeah."

"Why us?" Natasha asked, raising a brow— specifically at Y/n.

"Why not?" You answered with a shrug. "We have 2 years to do it."

Next - Series Masterlist

[4kurra]

Heartbeat

SYNPOSIS Talking to strangers wasn't your thing. Especially since you liked to spend most of your alone time in the art studio that your art teacher owned. The same teacher who surprisingly had a daughter of her very own. A cute one at that who resembled a puppy.

Pairing: Ahn!Yujin x Fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, romance, friends to lovers (sort of), wlw, males dni

Word count: 2.9k+

Authors Note: I know nothing about art if you could tell <3

You took your paintbrush, dipping it into the wet pastel color on your palette. Taking it out once again and brushing it on the newly already traced canvas, and repeat. You've been going at it for what seemed to be forever, unknowing to the curious gaze of another person. Truth be told, drowning yourself in art makes you forget that reality had been a thing. Well — at least that was what your art teacher had told you. Finally finishing up your piece and smiling at it in satisfaction, a voice interrupts your quiet atmosphere.

"I didn't know my mom taught talented students." You jumped, looking to find the owner of such a delicate voice.

Turning around, you made eye contact with a girl. Looked to be around your age too. She looked like a puppy but what caught your eyes the most was the beret on her head. Seems quite like a fashionable person. Probably an idol if you may.

"Mrs Ahn has a daughter?" You looked quite perplexed.

The latter smiled, nodding her head to your question. She tried to lean against the chair beside her without even looking at what was on it, jumping at the same when you shouted for her to not lean on it but it was already too late. Blue paint was now her hand and she looked as though she was now filled with nothing but regret.

"The blue paint is washable if that's what you're wondering." She wordlessly nodded at your words.

"I guess I had been caught blue handed?" She wore a dorky grin, making you chuckle at a joke that you would have been judging if someone else said it.

It was rude to go back to painting while a guest was here — specially Mrs. Ahns daughter. The woman was basically like a mom to you too. She taught you to paint at such a young age. Hell you even once had a time where you'd go straight home just to fangirl at the thought of your favorite artist(who had retired at the time), teaching you things that not a lot of other artists could. In your eyes, she managed to capture the beauty of nature — which you had admired for as long as you can remember.

"What are you trying to paint?"

The sudden question made you wince, cursing yourself for getting so jumpy. You looked at your own painting before looking back at the puppy-like latter. "Whatever comes to mind." A simple answer, but you managed to make it work because now, she looked even more interested in the piece of artwork. "Looks like the park around here. Do you mainly focus on painting nature?" She asked once again, a soft smile replacing her curious gaze.

You were honestly speechless, unsure as to why she was curious about your artwork. If anything, she was the first person to actually take an interest by asking questions. Everyone else? They only admired it, simply only for the beauty of it and not for the meaning behind it.

"I do. I think it captures the meaning of life very well." You tried to sound so sweet with your tone, not wanting to sound robotic.

The sweet smile on your face made her eyes dilate, slowly reddening her neck. She had heard about her mom's favorite art student her whole life, training as an idol before becoming one and now that she was able to meet you, she felt a little too conscious about herself because you were honestly the most prettiest person she's ever laid her eyes on. Your hair had been blonde, looking freshly dyed because it looked as though it had been glowing. It makes sense, honestly. Being an artistic person must mean you feel the need to color everything the way you want it to look. It complimented you well, she thought.

"Have you ever decided to hang your paintings on the white walls of a museum?" She cursed herself eternally for wording it that way.

You pondered for a few seconds, nodding afterward. "Yeah. I have two hung currently in the museum downtown."

Her eyes widened, knowing exactly what museum you were talking about. "No way.. wait. Is it the riverish one with the cute koi fishes?" Riverish one? Koi fishes were on spot thought. You raised your brows as she fished out for something out of her pocket. "I actually took a picture of that a few months ago." She proudly stated, showing a picture of your art piece.

What caught your eyes the most was how pretty she looked, smiling besides your art piece. Your cheeks reddened, realizing how the both of you had been admiring the wrong thing.

"I guess I can call you a fan?" You joked.

She immediately nodded, happy to meet the person who created the art piece that made her smile for days. She didn't know what you laced into that art piece but it made her happy, seeing the koi fishes and the happy-like atmosphere. Plus the color looked more happier than the rest of the paintings in there. No offense to the other artists but it looked bland, emotionless and as though the only effort they made into it was to make it look good. She was no artist herself but she believed that you painted your whole emotion into your canvases.

"I actually adm—" Before she could finish, the door opened. "Oh! I see the two of you have already met each other. Yujin why didn't you tell me that you were gonna drop by?" Mrs. Ahn asked, a faux disappointed look on her face.

"I wanted it to be a surprise?" She answered, although it was more of a question.

A smile adorned your lips at their interaction. It was truly what they called a mother-daughter bond. Mentally sighing, you wondered how your life would have been if your mother wasn't so busy with the company that she had worked so hard on to form. It was big yes. Which you hated because even until now from your childhood, the only time she'd talk to you was when it was a reminder on how she needed a heir and not a "street" artist. How endearing of her. You began to pull at the corner of your canvas, feeling somewhat unsatisfied.

"Y/N?" You paused your action, turning to face Mrs. Ahn. "You can take a break. How about the two of you roam the city and have fun?"

A smile broke out. "I'm fine with that. I think I've been in this studio for too long."

"What time did you get here? I forgot to add but I'm Yujin by the way." Yujin asked, including the important detail last.

Yujin. You let it roll off your tongue. What a pretty name.

"I'm Y/N, and I got here around five in the morning." She looked shocked, her mom having a neutral reaction because this was a usual thing for her.

"Impressive." Yujin acted as though her schedule didn't include waking up at that time in order to get ready for her fully booked schedule. "Real impressive. Up for getting soft drinks?"

A giggle entered her ears as though it was music to her ears. What are you planning to be now? A music artist? "I actually prefer milk tea. Taro specifically." She nodded, mentally noting it down.

With that, the two of you made your way to your new destination. Her mom offering to stay in the studio in order to do a few cleanups.

—

The peaceful atmosphere was the only thing that caught Yujin off guard. She had expected a cute café to contain a lot of customers but then again — you seemed like the extroverted types who liked to indulge themselves inside a quiet and peaceful atmosphere. Tapping her finer against the table without even knowing, she looks around in awe of the whole place. Maybe she should bring her members here.

"Are you gonna wear that forever or?" You jokingly asked, taking a long sip of your drink.

Yujin tried to ask what you were even talking about before feeling the mask on her face. Since there wasn't that much windows surrounding the two of you and because everyone looked to be in their own world, she took it off without hesitation. "Here's your drink." You smiled as she smiled back at you, muttering a 'thank you'. You took your seat in front of her. "So.." You began. "Do you always wear sunglasses and a mask whenever you go outside or is it just a one time thing?"

It was a joke obviously but that didn't stop Yujin from choking on her soda. She apologized, taking the handkerchief that you had offered before harshly wiping it against her face. "I thought you knew?" A frown formed. Clueless as to what she meant by that.

"Cute." She chuckled. "But I'm an idol basically."

The way she said it so casually made you feel small. Of course, you thought she was fit to be one. Just never expected her to actually be one.

"Why didn't I realize that.."

It was honestly the first time that a person she interacted with didn't know what her job was. You intrigued her. Leaning against the palm of her hands, she studied your features as if you were an art piece of her own. Clearly, you were made with time.

"I'm flattered. You find me interesting, but my eyes are up here." You interrupted her thoughts, causing her to discreetly cough because she was, in fact, not looking at your eyes but your lips. "I know. I was just admiring your collar. Very cute design." She tried to brush it off.

Your collar did look cute. She liked your fashion. It wasn't basic, definitely unique. It was almost as though you had just come straight out of a fairytale. Her clothes were exactly the opposite. So modern and so expensive looking. You would have thought that she was a runaway model if she hadn't exposed her actual job. As time with each other grew, she began to notice your small habits that you didn't even know you had. You poked your tongue through your left cheek whenever you'd feel flustered. You'd bite your lips whenever you were thinking. Your pupils dilated whenever you talked about something that intrigued you, and what caught her eyes the most was when you smiled at every dorky joke she made.

You radiated sunshine energy, and she wasn't complaining. She herself would radiate that energy — at least that was what most people told her, but you were so different. She wanted to be with you. Possibly — if she could, then she would. Your sweetness was overfilling her more than her soda did.

"I've actually created a lego flower, actually," you said in a proud tone, fishing your phone out of your purse. "I think it took me three days?"

She admired the pretty Lego set, eyes not missing out on a single detail. You looked so proud, too, that it would have been horrible of her to not show a single smile. "It's cute. Who was it for?" She unintentionally asked.

"For?" You laughed in a non offending way, of course. "I'm single as one can be. I don't think the thought of dating would be too good for me, honestly."

I'm curious.

"Why?"

You froze, wondering why she was even curious. "Uh.. I've actually never thought about it. I usually spend my time in the studio. Or at home when I have to."

She expected for you to have someone in your arms by now. But you being single made it honestly worse. Your beauty was out of this world and she knew that. Pretty sure she spent most of her time listening to your voice instead of talking. That is — unless she was the one who was questioning you for what you liked and what you disliked.

"Then would it sound selfish of me to say that I'd like to keep that lego flower for myself?" She became straightforward.

You didn't catch onto her intentions, leaning towards the action of rubbing your hands against your nape. "I don't know why you think it'd be selfish. I'd obviously like to gift it to you." Her cheeks reddened, feeling even more satisfied with your answer.

"I'll keep an eye out for it, okay?" She wanted to feel assured that you would send her the Lego flower that spent days just to finish. "Okay."

Obviously, she was not gonna sit back and take away your progress without giving you something in return. Maybe a new set of palettes, along with paint, would do just the right gift. Yet again, you seemed to have a lot judging from how you basically grew up painting. What would you have liked? She thought.

It was simple. You obviously wanted someone who you could call a friend.

"Should we go now? I'm finished." You sent a dopey smile.

Yujin immediately nodded, taking your drink in order to throw it in the recycle bin. The two of you began to head out, trying to think of more things that you could do with each other. Just like in the animated shows, a light bulb formed above Yujin's head, showing that she, in fact, had a good place to go to.

"Let's go," She took your hands and interlocked it with her before speeding up her pace. "Follow me."

You did so, cheeks once again reddening at the sudden physical contact.

—

"The park?" You looked around, wondering why she wanted to go here.

It was pretty. It was totally your thing, but it was also random. Yujin hurriedly made you sit on the bench, hoping that you had also brought along the items that were needed in order for her plan to work.

"Did you bring your paint kit..? Or however you cute artists call it." She asked with sparks in her eyes.

You chuckled, nodding before taking out the things that she had requested. Your notebook and a pen. It was obviously not a 'painting kit', but she obviously wanted something that involved art. "I expected a paint brush and a canvas.. but that'll do." She clapped her hands together in excitement.

"Okay, can I borrow those?" You gave it, forgetting that you were supposed to be protective of it because it held every precious memory that you drew. From your childhood even.

Yujin stood up in front of you, trying to think of where she should start. You let out a 'ahh', finally realizing what she had been trying to do the entire time. First, she looked at your eyes. A sketch added. Your jawline. Another sketch added. It went on for what seemed like an eternity until she got to part where she had been waiting to draw because it allowed her to stare freely at it without you thinking she was weird. Which you obviously would never think. Yujin stared right into your lips, pausing her sketch because now — she had been tracing it in her mind. Her strong gaze sent chills down your spine, wondering what stopped her from sketching.

"Uh.. yeah right!" She awkwardly laughed, continuing on with her sketch.

Odd.

Finally finishing it up, she showed it to you with a proud smile. You were an artist and had high expectations, but the sketch that she presented in front of you made you giggle. With a fake huff, she hid her sketch of you behind her back. "I was expecting a compliment.." She pretended to act as though she was annoyed by your reaction.

You couldn't help but to snort. "Yeah. It's cute."

"Because it's a drawing of you," She lazily smiled, "which I dare to say that a drawing of you from an unexperienced beginner like me would make it seem as though it wasn't my first time."

It was a compliment. She was complimenting your unearthly looks. You couldn't help but turn red, looking elsewhere in fear of having to see the stars in her eyes whenever she spoke highly of you.

"I think that if I was an art created by you, I'd be the one admiring you back instead." Sincerity had been evident in her tone.

You usually had no trouble flirting back — but the girl was on a whole nother of leaving you speechless. Butterflies that you didn't even know existed were now all over the place. Was she doing this on purpose? You didn't know but you liked it.

"Well," She smiled innocently, asking if it she hadn't just made your insides flutter, "We should head back to my mom's studio. I'm sure she has a few students already."

You nodded as she handed your notebook with a wink. She was about the become the death of you.

—

"How'd it go?" Mrs. Ahn asked.

You had been a blushing mess and Yujin had been the cause of it. Yujin simply smiled, "It was great. I get why she's your favorite student." The sudden urge to run out of the room was big.

Yujin's mom smiled, showing a resemblance of Yujin's smile. "I'm glad. She really doesn't like to go out often with other people around her age."

"Oh?" Yujin looked over to you with a cocky grin.

You jokingly rolled your eyes at her, not wanting to raise her confidence. "I'll be with the other students.. um, helping out with their painting skills." You informed.

"I'll get going too mom," Yujin sent a smile at her mom before hurrying up in order to catch up with you who made sure to take big steps so she wouldn't.

"Eh? When was she able to paint?" Mrs. Ahn asked, clicking her tongue after realizing that her daughter was now head over heels for her favorite student. What a troublemaker.

[armandgender]

I am trans dean content starved, so please gimme a little crumb, a little something something, a measly little headcannon (or 30), a rant, anything, I beg of you 🙏 I am on this hellsite only for trans dean Winchester content and I just know you know what's up fr

okay sorry this took SO long to respond to but nothing was coming to me. anyway here’s 822 words of a trans dean s12 rewrite where Mary comes back and they both have to cope with how much everything has changed

—

When he spots her, shrouded in that nightgown, long hair as golden as he remembers, he assumes that Amara lied—that her gift for him was to die, and to go to heaven.

That wouldn’t be a bad gift, actually. To finally rest.

But this doesn’t feel like paradise. There’s still an ache in his knees and his upper back, and he’s almost choking on the sticky summer heat.

He takes a few steps, hands flexing, cautious. “Mom?”

Mary rises from her seat and fixes him with a look that lands somewhere between fear and confusion.

When she doesn’t say anything, Dean struggles to fill the silence himself. “Are you.. really…” he struggles to find the words, heart hammering in his throat “…real?” One hand extends towards her shoulder, shaky. It might just pass through.

But before he can make contact, she whips both hands across to grab his arm, hooks her foot around his leg, and slams him face down into the grass. She plants a foot against his neck to hold him there, surprisingly strong.

Yeah, she’s real.

“Where am I?” She demands, the smallest waver in her voice giving away her fear. “Who are you?”

This is gonna be a hard one to explain. “Ah—“ he grunts as she presses her heel harder against his neck. “I’m your son.”

“…Sam?” She starts to ease up.

Oops. “The other one.”

The air hums with cicadas. Dean is suddenly grateful for the fact that he’s facedown in the dirt, because he hasn’t had to acknowledge this truth about himself with anyone in a long, long time, and his face feels traitorously red.

“Deanna?” He tries, the name feeling ancient and foreign, like something he’d read out of one of the old lore tomes back in the bunker.

“No… my Deanna is four years old, and…”

Dean shifts beneath her, taking in a shaky breath. “A girl? Yeah. Didn’t stick,” he jokes.

She tightens her grip painfully.

“Ah— mom. I was four years old when you died,” he reminds her, shaky.

In a flash her grip is gone, feet scuffing in the grass as she stumbles back. Dean rises, palms out to catch the next attack—but Mary is bracing herself on the bench, bent over at the waist like she might throw up.

Believe it or not, Dean knows the feeling. The human brain doesn’t really want to remember its own death, and it hurts like a bitch when it all comes racing back in. He keeps his distance, trying to remember how Mary sees him—imposing and unfamiliar. A stranger.

That’s what he sees reflected in her eyes when she finally looks at him again.

“Listen, I know it sounds insane. I know,” he starts, but trails off, losing his pace. That’s his mom. Not a ghost. Not a memory. She’s real.

“How long have I been gone?” She asks, finally getting her balance back.

“Thirty-three years.” Longer than she was ever alive. Long enough that Dean has all but erased any trace of the child she remembers. “And you’re…” she looks him over again, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Dean,” he supplies. He tries to take it as a compliment when she looks skeptical. It would be hard to imagine him as a four year old girl, looking at him now. He’ll give her that.

“Listen, I… I know you, okay? You met John Winchester in 1972. Didn’t like him much at first but he grew on you, and the two of you got married in Reno in 1975. Your idea.” He huffs out a laugh, trying to ignore the anxiety building in his gut. “Your favorite song is Hey Jude. We used to dance to it in the kitchen. I tried to cheer you up by putting it on when dad walked out on us for a few days.”

Mary’s gaze softens. Dean searches her eyes, dying for an ounce of recognition. Love, even. Would she still love him?

She takes a few steps closer, stretching out a hand to rest against his chest, over his heart. Like she’s making sure he’s real. “Dean,” she repeats, trying the name on for size.

“Hi, mom.” Nice to meet you.

They teeter on the edge for a moment. Dean is ready to turn away. To hide his face when she rejects him.

Instead she takes a step forward and wraps her arms around him, warm and tight and god, she even smells the same. It’s a scent that doesn’t quite have a name. Just the scent of home, and of safety. Somewhere under his thickened skin, there’s just a four year old kid hanging onto his mother, burying his face in the soft fabric of her nightgown.

They linger there. It’s Mary who pulls away first. Dean turns to look towards the road, desperately trying to blink away tears. “We should, uh… everyone thinks I’m dead. We should get going.”

[waywardrose]

THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY 16

stranger things

eddie munson x reader

rated e

5.4k

spotify playlist

for @punk-in-docs​​​

fem/witchy/goth!reader, magic, slow burn (for me), friends to lovers, no y/n only pet names, series-typical horror, period-typical sexism and homophobia, historical inaccuracies and anachronisms, drug dealing and use, smoking, alcohol use, masturbation, mutual masturbation, fantasizing, one-bed trope, making out, fingering, dirty talk, consensual pursuit and capture, oral sex, handjobs, condoms, piv sex, reader’s father is a dirtbag, mild spanking, magical violation, mental torture, body horror, aftercare, nightmares, strict parenting, panic attack, past child abuse and abandonment, semi-public sex, break-ups, angst with a happy ending, tags will be updated as needed

Eddie would have to wait until his lunch break to see this new, hot, weird chick. He wondered which flavor of weird she was. Art weird? Theater weird? Band weird?

Weird weird?

He shrugged. He liked weird.

In other words, you’re the new girl in town, and Eddie is intrigued.

note: Montaging our way to spring break! Wee! (Also, pardon the lack of updates. I’ve been sick.)

16

Angry faces obscured your view. A wordless cacophony of voices drowned out all other sounds. Hands like shackles clasped your arms. Broken blacktop and brick-dust riddled the ground under your bare feet. You fought to escape, but there were too many restraining you. Your heels scraped raw and skin bruised as you thrashed.

Like a shoal of fish distancing themselves from a predator, the mob parted for those dragging you. You tried to make eye-contact with anyone, yet no one really saw you. Their indistinct yells were neither protests nor cheers, only primal noise.

Dry heat and the sharp smell of electricity permeated the air the farther your captors pulled you. It made the hairs at your nape stand on end.

Your alarm clock beeped.

You batted around your nightstand until hitting the snooze button on the clock.

It was just before six AM. Tuesday. Still dark. School started in almost two hours.

School meant putting on a veneer of indifference. Truthfully, heading downstairs to breakfast meant putting on a veneer of indifference. Your parents didn’t know Eddie had only called once in the two and a half weeks since you’d given him your new number. No one at school knew what he meant to you.

You went through your morning routine without thought. Your parents chatted over scrambled eggs and toast. Mom was heading into work with your father today. There were calls to make, notes to take, and documents to file. They wouldn’t be home until after five. You could impersonate Mom and excuse yourself from school, but you’d done that last week.

You had a quiz in Spanish class today, anyway. You didn’t want to explain to Senora Richmond before the next class why you needed a make-up quiz — en Espanol, no less.

You didn’t know how to translate: Sorry, my kinda boyfriend ditched me because his music styling was changing and my poor lil heart couldn’t take it.

By the time you arrived at school, darkness had given way to a marigold sun. The honey-colored horizon faded to silvery blue in the flat sky. It looked warmer than it felt.

The morning went by as you expected. The Spanish quiz wasn’t as difficult as you’d prepared for. You kept yourself busy during lunch to fill the usual emptiness. Eddie didn’t attempt conversation before American Government, which sucked more than you’d anticipated.

.

Your bleeding feet left streaks of crimson on the cracked concrete. Despite your pleas, your captors dragged you closer to the scorching heat. Otherworldly electricity snapped and sizzled over the roar of the crowd—

And when they parted, you screamed.

You jolted across the bed, breathless and disoriented. Nothing hurt. It was dark. Your heartbeat banged in your ears. Harsh sunlight filtered around the window blinds. The neck of your nightshirt clung to your damp skin.

It was the same dream you’d had days ago. You could rationalize a bad dream once, but not a second time. Maybe this was a third time? Something about the details...

You shook your head and turned on the bedside lamp.

It was just after ten AM. Sunday. Mom would serve breakfast soon.

You took your diary from the nightstand to record what you’d seen. Halfway through, Mom knocked on your door, announcing food was ready. You launched from the bed and called back you’d be down in a minute. Your rumpled, sweat-ringed shirt spoke to the contrary, but whatever.

With a quick change, you scurried downstairs. Sunday Morning played on the small kitchen TV. The scent of coffee and browning sausage patties filled your nose. Maple syrup, butter, and a platter of steaming pancakes waited buffet-style on the counter.

After everyone settled at the table, your father announced he would be in Louisville next weekend for an investor conference. Mom nodded along, asking if she needed to have his car serviced. She sounded like his secretary, which she’d been before you were born. She’d been his “girl.” In most respects, she still was. Their dynamic made you never want to marry. You didn’t want to be some man’s assistant, you wanted a partner.

Your father replied he would rent a car instead. It was easier to deduct tax-wise. Mom agreed before taking a dainty sip of her coffee.

Conversation tapered off as Face the Nation recapped the past week’s events. Your father focused on the show while chopping a wedge from his pancake stack.

Mom turned to you and said, “How about we have a girls’ weekend?”

Her kind yet serious expression put you on high alert. She hadn’t offered an expression like that since she broke the news of the move. Syrup dripped from the bite of pancake on your fork.

“Uh, sure,” you said oh-so suavely.

Everything was under control. Situation normal. Everything was perfectly alright now. You were fine. You were all fine, here, now, thanks.

She smiled what you’d referred to as her beauty-pageant smile. It was the one she used as a genial mask.

“We’ll rent a few movies and eat pizza!” she said. “How about facials? Mani-pedis?” She set her mug on her placemat. “A salon visit? Maybe a stop by that boutique on Main? Oh, I know, I’ll make a list!”

She stood before you could answer.

-

Eddie knew he couldn’t afford to skip American Government like he had been. O’Donnell was such a hardass about homework, proper grammar and complete sentences on tests, class participation, and attendance.

She abhorred his long hair and ripped jeans. Hell, last year she’d sent him to the office before Homeroom for the patches on his battle vest. Her nose curled when she addressed him, as if he stank. Which he did not, thank you very much. He showered and wore deodorant every day.

However, he’d much prefer to lie on the couch while eating spray cheese from the can instead of facing the world. Which was pathetic, and he’d rather not have anyone know. Not even Wayne, but especially not you.

Jesus Christ, he’d fucked up so bad. As per usual.

You hadn’t glanced at him when the semester started. It was more than you ignoring him. You didn’t notice him anymore. Or like you’d seen the real him and didn’t find him worth the effort.

That hurt like a bitch.

That was karma, he guessed. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t agree with the adage that karma was a bitch. No, karma was a virgin. Karma teased and hinted and strung him along. Karma gave him metaphorical blue balls.

He could have this little good thing, but it would cost him a bigger, better thing that he wouldn’t know the existence of until it was ripped away. Like getting a mediocre handy, then finding out after he’d come he could’ve been balls deep in the slickest, hottest, tightest hole in the universe.

Except, this time he’d given himself the handy.

He made a face at the wording. Luckily, he was alone in the Auto Tech garage. He switched positions on the workbench stool and stared at the Music Theory worksheet he needed to finish by tomorrow morning.

He kept recalling how your gaze had met his during the previous class. Your expression went from neutrally attentive to goddamn miserable. He wanted to drag you from the classroom to apologize and explain better. Explain in a way you’d understand and was coherent. It all made sense in his head, where he was eloquent and astute, but his words came out all wrong. He sounded one evolutionary step away from a proto-neanderthal, a caveman, an idiot.

All he could think of was your misery. He’d done that. He hadn’t kept trying. He let you remain miserable.

So, yeah, he’d wanted to drag you from the classroom and kiss your misery away. He wanted to take you home, play his new compositions for you, prove to you the time apart was productive.

Maybe he should record a few on the boombox — if it had the right input jack. Then he could write a letter. He was better on paper, anyway. He was an experienced dungeon master and storyteller. He was eloquent and a fast-thinker during sessions. It stood to reason he could translate those skills to a fucking letter—

“Munson,” said Mr. Thompson, the Auto Tech teacher.

The main door clunked shut. He whirled around to face Mr. Thompson, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hail, car-lord and master!” he said with an innocent smile and raised hand.

The corner of Mr. Thompson’s lips curled before he shook his head.

“If I catch you in here again before the bell, I’m taking you to Higgins.”

Eddie saluted, while thinking of the next warm place he could hide during fifth period.

“Understood, sire.”

Mr. Thompson waved it off and headed for his locked office.

“This isn’t a study hall, son, get off your duff and help me wheel the tool chests out.”

“Yes, sir.”

-

Mom said, “—And this is my daughter,” as you stopped next to her at the front counter of Family Video.

On the other side, the clerk blushed deeper.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He gave you a startled smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You replied with a ‘hey’ and set the three VHS cases in front of him.

The clerk was cute. Actually, he was downright pretty with thick golden-brown hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and big brown eyes. The preppy polo shirt worked with his broad shoulders and tapering torso. He looked like someone your father would approve of, despite working at a chain video rental store. Unlike certain unemployed musicians who sold drugs and drove a rusty van that screamed ‘stranger danger.’

You tried to keep the bitter thought from your face.

“I hope you found what you were looking for,” said the clerk, glancing between you and Mom.

In nearly a purr, Mom said, “And then some.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Mom flirting with this dude? You gave her a quick look. Her grin was on the seductive side. Her body had loosened, shoulder and opposite hip tilting.

The clerk’s expression turned coy as he checked the cases.

“I’m so glad to hear it.” He winked before logging the tapes into the system. “We’re running a special this weekend, so that’ll be six dollars.”

There was no sign advertising such a special.

You focused on the candy display to your left to distance yourself, because you didn’t know what the hell you felt. It was cool to get a discount. It was not cool to watch your mother flirt with someone half her age. And you knew the clerk would remember this interaction for weeks to come, too, so you’d have to return the tapes via the slot by the door. There was no way you’d show your face in here until summer.

Once the clerk slid the cases across the counter, you took them and nudged Mom with an elbow. She tittered at something the clerk said.

Under your breath, you said, “Oh my fucking god.”

Mom bid him a good night. He replied something along the lines of the two of you having a better one. It was an opening to continue to flirt, or invite him over, or return at closing. She touched his wrist as she thanked him and then sashayed to the front doors.

You followed her, hoping to block his view. He couldn’t afford the lifestyle she’d become accustomed to, anyway, and you certainly didn’t want a stepfather who was maybe four years your senior. With a peek over your shoulder, you found him watching regardless.

She held the door for you, all gracious and smiling. She glowed as if she’d just returned from the spa. You rolled your eyes when you passed her. She remained quiet until you both were in the car.

“Well, he was a nice young man,” she said as she started the engine.

You laughed, sounding a touch hysterical.

She asked, “What?”

“‘Nice’? Really?” You pulled the seatbelt across your body. “He was practically propositioning you.”

“Oh, pfft!” She flicked a hand out. “That meant nothing.”

“He probably thinks you’re a single mom looking for a good time.”

She giggled as she latched her seatbelt. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t.”

She made a face, though her amusement was palpable.

“I’m going to tell Dad,” you said to tease her.

She gasped while reversing from the parking spot.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Why not?” You smiled and bit your lip. “It meant nothing, right?”

Taking on a faux-haughty air, she said, “Fine, tell him. He’ll be proud of the discount.”

You laughed a drawn-out ‘oh-ho.’ “Three whole dollars!”

“Which I will be spending on you tomorrow.”

“Hush money. Nice.” You nodded. “I’ll keep your new boy-toy a secret, Mother-dearest.”

“Why, thank you, darling daughter.”

.

The crowd parted as the heat grew. You turned your face into your shoulder, squeezing your eyes closed. You couldn’t look. This couldn’t be happening. They were going to burn you at the stake. This couldn’t be happening. They’d discovered you were a witch. This couldn’t be happening. They feared you. They hated you.

Were there others? If you opened your eyes, would you see charred remains?

Skin burned away in blackened lumps. Eye sockets empty. Mouths open in eternal torment.

Someone yelled, “Throw the bitch!”

You opened your eyes. This was happening.

People from the crowd dragged ends of a barbed-wire barrier apart. Beyond lay a chasm glowing orange-red, like the mouth of a volcano. They weren’t burning you at the stake, they were hurling you into the center of the Earth.

You fought anew, twisting and kicking and pulling. New hands grasped at your arms. Someone fisted your hair and shook your head. You gritted your teeth, daring them to get closer.

Golden lightning arced from the chasm. You gasped, eyes going wide. Goosebumps swept over your body in one shivering wave.

The chasm didn’t lead to the center of the Earth. It was something different, something unnatural. The chasm became a gaping maw. It was going to swallow you, reduce and destroy you. There was nothing you could do to stop it. Your magic remained too mundane.

“You’re doomed, cursed, forsaken,” you whispered. “You shall never find peace. You’ll never know victory.” Your fingers strained claw-like towards the ground as you called energy to you. “You’re condemned with me, you pathetic motherfuckers.”

One of your captors smacked the back of your head.

“Shut up.”

“No, fuck you! Let me go!” You thrashed and growled. “No!”

A gentle hand shook your shoulder. You flinched from the touch. It didn’t belong. Soft words pulled at your attention. They didn’t belong, either.

“Wake up!”

Your eyes snapped open. It was night. Friday. You were in your dark living room, snuggled in the sofa’s corner under a throw blanket. A figure blocked the flickering TV in the corner. You blinked a few times before everything came into focus. The figure was Mom. You were safe.

The greasy pizza box lay on the coffee table. Your mouth vaguely tasted of spicy pepperoni.

Mom softly said, “Hey, you’re okay.”

You nodded and uncurled your legs to sit up.

She backed away to click on the nearest lamp. You closed your eyes at the light.

The TV went quiet.

“Want to talk about it?” she asked.

Scrubbing hands over your face, you said, “No, it was just a dream.”

A dream which you’d been keeping at bay with a bowl of new crystals and stones by your bed. Unfortunately, it seemed their reach was limited. You would need to purify and charge everything tomorrow. And perhaps order a necklace to wear at night. Onyx could work. Maybe obsidian? Jasper?

“Pretty bad one, I’d say.”

You shook your head to concentrate on the conversation. Your mind felt wrapped in cotton wool.

“No, it— I mean, I guess?”

“Well, it’s no wonder with the SATs in a few weeks.” She sighed. “Aren’t midterms soon?”

“Uh, kinda? In March?”

She hummed as though you’d confirmed some suspicion of hers. “I’ll keep your father off your back. I know he’s been a bit much.”

You made a face, because, oh yeah, he’d been a bit much all right. He’d been bugging you about school at breakfast and dinner. He asked after your SAT prep as well.

Mom chuckled, saying, “He really wants you to do well on your SATs.”

“I do, too.”

“I’ll tell you a little secret: you’re doing better in school than he ever did.”

“Really?”

“Yup! His grades were so-so, and he only got into Columbia because his guidance counselor was an alum.”

“No way.”

She nodded.

“His father was friends with people on the admissions board, too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Well...” She shrugged. “He likes to think of himself a self-made man, but...” She shook her head. “Between his father and his cronies, the frat brothers, he wouldn’t be where he is now.”

“How did you find out all this?” you asked.

She gave you a knowing look.

“People like to talk to me.”

-

Glacial wind outside had driven most students into the cafeteria for lunch. Warmth from the additional bodies and the kitchen steam-tables fogged the windows. The air smelled like a meatloaf TV dinner, making Eddie’s stomach rumble.

“So, what are you and your ladylove doing on Valentine’s?” Gareth asked before taking a swig of his milk.

Eddie frowned at his half-empty baggie of baked cheese bites and purloined Mountain Dew. Valentine’s Day was Friday. He hadn’t spoken to you in too long. Honestly, he’d lost his nerve when the boombox didn’t have the right input jack to record his new stuff properly. The boombox’s built-in mic sucked. Everything had sounded like crap.

He hadn’t thought there was a point in writing a letter without proof of creation. It would be a hollow gesture at best and, at worst, look like a desperate attempt for your attention. You were already pissed at him. He didn’t want you losing respect for him, too.

“Nothing,” he said.

“What? Why?” asked Gareth.

“We’re paused.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’re paused, man. I told her I needed space.”

“You what?” Jeff asked the same time Gareth exclaimed, “No!”

Dougie’s rounded eyes said everything as Dustin coughed around a mouthful of peas and carrots. Mike narrowed his eyes in irritation at Eddie while he thumped a hand on Dustin’s back.

“It’s for us!” Eddie said to Gareth. “We’re practicing more, right? Writing more. We’re getting better.”

“But you let that-that... That babe go?” Gareth asked.

“I mean, not exactly? I said it was only ‘til the Battle of the Bands.”

Pointedly, Jeff said, “In April.”

“Yeah, in April.”

“A lot of shit can happen between now and April.”

“Yeah, like someone else snatching her up,” Mike said.

“She’s not a shirt at the thrift store, dipshits.”

Gareth said, “Uh, no, she’s probably one of the coolest girls in this school,” and threw the last bite of his dinner roll at Eddie.

It hit him square on the forehead.

“King Dipshit.”

.

He sat by the bedside phone and couldn’t stop his knee from bouncing. His bedroom was too cold. He’d forgotten to remove the A/C unit from the window. He could wrestle it out now.

He stood.

It took him and Wayne to install it, though. There was no way in hell he’d be able to uninstall it by himself. He didn’t need to drop an A/C unit from his window on a Thursday evening.

God, this was such bullshit, he thought. Valentine’s Day was such bullshit.

You probably didn’t care about it. He’d never given it a lot of thought. Other than the discounted candy the day after, of course. Maybe he should rent My Bloody Valentine and get high tomorrow. Surely, there was time to pop by Family Video before practice.

He turned to the nightstand to retrieve his wallet and keys.

There was the phone. Sitting there. Waiting. Judging him.

Was it a dick move to call? He didn’t want to hurt you. He sat on the bed and lifted the receiver. He only wanted to hear your voice and catch up a little. With a sigh, he dialed your number.

He didn’t want you — or the relationship with you — to be a fond memory. He didn’t want to look back on this time and sigh wistfully. He wanted to keep making memories with you.

He couldn’t make memories if he stayed silent.

“Hello?”

“I don’t want you to be a memory.”

It was quiet for a beat.

“What?”

“I— Uh... Sorry. It’s me, Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, yeah, good.” So eloquent, Dungeon Master. He rested his forehead on his hand. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Can you talk?”

“Yeah, I can talk.”

“What were you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Reading what?”

“The House on the Strand.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it about?”

You sighed. “Eddie, what do you want? What do you mean, you don’t want me to be a memory?”

“I was thinking about us. About you. I don’t want to be nostalgic about you.”

“Okay...?”

“I don’t want to lose you, is what I’m saying. I don’t want to look back at this year and think about how great you were. I want to know how great you are.” He gnawed on his lip. “You know what I mean?”

You sounded hoarse as you said, “Yeah, I think so.”

“And I...” He combed at his bangs. “Look, I know my actions aren’t matching up with that shit, but...” His finger snagged in a tangle. “I’m working and practicing every damn day. When I’m not at school, I’m practicing and writing. When I’m not doing that, I’m making money.”

“And sometimes you play D&D.”

He grinned for a second, rubbing at an eye. It was good to hear you tease.

“Look, I’m a total fuck-up, I know—”

You cut him off, voice thick, “No, you’re not.”

“I fucked us, though. I fucked us. I know I did.” He scoffed at himself. “It’s the Munson Doctrine: Everything that can fuck up will fuck up.” He shook his head and cleared the sudden strain in his throat. “But I’m gonna unfuck us. Me and the guys are going to win in April, and you’re going to be there, and we’ll graduate and leave this stupid town.”

You sniffled.

Shit, he made you cry.

His chest tightened as his eyes grew hot with empathetic tears. He couldn’t make his voice work. If he tried, it would break. Then he’d sound like he was going through puberty again. That shit was bad enough the first time.

After a minute, your creaky voice asked, “Have you heard Metallica’s new single?”

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Y-yeah, I preordered the album.”

You wetly sniffed.

“You’ll have to tell me if it’s any good.”

“If you want, you can come over after school.” He rested his forehead in his hand again, certain he’d chosen the wrong thing to say. “Only if you want, of course. No pressure.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He nodded as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Yeah, definitely the wrong thing.

“Yeah, of course, you’re right. I’ll make you a copy.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to, but...”

“No, I get it. I said a pause, and that means no home visits.”

“You know, our pause doesn’t mean you should skip O’Donnell’s.”

He played with a fray in his jeans.

“Eddie, I’m serious. She takes points off.”

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” He shrugged. “See if she’ll give me extra credit.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

“Yeah, I need her class to graduate.”

With a grin in your voice, you said, “Use those pretty eyes of yours.”

A flash of tingling warmth brought a smile to his face.

“Stop...”

“Be your charming self, honey. How could anyone resist you?”

His cheeks heated, and stomach swooped. He couldn’t find a decent retort. All he wanted to ask was if you were beginning to forgive him. However, he knew that would spoil the conversation. But oh, how he wanted to know.

“You got me blushing.”

“I know.”

He groaned and collapsed to the side. Your answering giggle killed him. Utter devastation with no survivors. He wished he could see your smile, how your eyes sparkled. It would make his death worth it.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Well, no... I mean, I finished my homework.”

“I’m practicing with the guys—” He checked the bedside clock. “In about an hour.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready, then?”

“Probably.” He gnawed at his bottom lip. “You wanna hang out? Hear some of our new stuff? Gareth’s got a heated garage...”

You breathed deep.

“Eddie... I can’t. The last time...”

He vividly remembered the last time you saw him play. You’d been so sexy. He remembered your skirt and your pantyhose — which he’d ripped to get at you — your smeared lipstick and the way it tasted. He remembered the clutch of your sweet pussy and how it pulsed around his dick when you came. Your thighs had squeezed his waist. You’d pulled his hair and grabbed his ass.

He went hot, with his dick at half-mast, just recalling those disjointed details now.

“No repeat performance?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I love watching you and the guys play...”

“But...?”

“But I don’t trust myself.”

His pelvis flexed forward as the heaviness between his legs increased. The fine cotton of his boxers rubbed at his cockhead. He tempted you. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. If you were beside him with your dark-headshop scent and soft skin, confessing that in his ear, he’d nut.

He whispered, “Jesus,” voice sounding strained.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry about this shit.”

He wanted to end the pause, offer it up like a sacrifice. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said the band was practicing and writing more. They had a good chunk of five more original songs in the bag. They’d all agreed to buy Master of Puppets and attempt to cover one of the songs. The album wouldn’t be out until next month, though, and currently the album’s songbook had no release date.

Your smile was evident in your voice as you said, “You’re just sorry you won’t be fucking me behind, like, Gareth’s garage.”

“Well, yeah, I’ll fuck you anywhere you’ll let me.”

He realized too late his tone had been too sultry to be playful.

The smile was gone from your voice. “Eddie, don’t, please.”

He leaned into the sultriness, because he might as well.

“Hey, don’t forget my offer from New Year’s.”

“How could I forget?”

“You think about it?”

“Like I’m answering that.”

He rolled onto his back to palm his crotch.

“I do.”

After a breathless moment, you asked, “What do you think about?”

“Having to fuck you on the floor to keep your parents from hearing.” Yeah, he’d like you bouncing on his lap, reverse cowgirl. He’d play with your tits. “Covering your mouth with my hand because you’re too loud.” He squeezed the base of his dick. “I like the way you sound, by the way, like making you come. Like having your bite-marks and scratches on me the next day.” He grinned. “You know, after Halloween, I had little bruises on my ass.”

“No way.”

“Yep, little fingertip bruises. You grabbed me good.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m not.”

You hummed, amused.

The sound shot heat to his groin. He teetered on the edge of sweating. And unzipping his jeans. And asking you to talk about anything. Read the fucking phonebook, talk to him about your math homework, he didn’t care.

However, he didn’t want to prove you right by only calling when he couldn’t stand jacking off alone.

“Well, since you have practice tonight, I’ll let you go.”

“Yeah, I need to pack the van. Maybe change clothes.”

“Gonna wear those tight jeans again?”

“Only if you promise to come.”

“I can’t, honey.”

He nodded.

“I know, sweetheart. I get it.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

“Absolutely.”

“Tell me how it goes tonight.”

“You got it.”

“Okay, I—” You breathed. “Okay, tomorrow.”

“Night, baby.”

“G’night. Have fun.”

Your end of the line clicked as you hung up. He dropped the phone’s handset in its cradle. He had around fifteen minutes before he had to leave. That was enough time. He undid his jeans, maneuvered his aching dick from his boxers, and spat into his palm.

-

The barbed-wire barrier parted like a grisly curtain. The mob on the other side of the barrier roared. Pebbles bit into the soles of your feet as you thrashed in your captors’ hold. Ahead, the chasm awaited. Its heat dried your eyes and baked your skin. A fist in your hair kept your face forward. Like you could look away.

Arcs of lightning crackled from the chasm, charging the air. The hair on your arms and head stood on end.

You cursed everyone. Let the universe feel your rage. Let it ripple out, like a stone thrown in a pond. The ground trembled. Your vengeance would ruin the world. If they threw you into that ravenous, scorching maw, your body might be destroyed, but not your spirit. They’d never know peace — just like you wouldn’t. They’d be condemned with you.

One of your captors hit the side of your head and ordered you to shut up.

You thrashed anew, growling insults.

Another captor kicked the back of your knees so the others could drag you easier. You lashed out and caught one of them in the ankle. That one stumbled, yet continued the relentless march forward. You were hit again before they wrenched your head back.

Would they slit your throat now?

You closed your eyes to the black clouds obscuring the morning sky. A helicopter’s blades beat in the distance. Those onboard weren’t coming for you, though. They were leaving you behind. You weren’t worth saving with your powers so reduced.

Useless witch, you heard. Pointless. Worthless. Broken. You deserved to be culled.

You’d let him in, let him take from you, let him drain you. He’d grown more powerful, near unstoppable, because of you. It was all your fault. Your good intentions had paved this road to Hell.

Hands took hold of your legs and hoisted you into the air. The bloody wounds on your feet burned in the dry heat. You writhed and screamed on instinct.

The mob returned your screams tenfold. You turned your head to see all their faces now expressionless save for their open mouths. Their eyes were seared like the clouds above.

It was too late to cast one last spell. Someone already had — and it had been him. He watched from every eye aimed at you. It was too late to save you, too late for salvation, and too late for revenge.

Your voice died in your throat. You choked on hot air. Any strength you had abandoned you. Tears rolled over your temples and into your hair. The ground trembled once more as if to knock your captors off-balance or close the chasm. It was a last, futile attempt to save you, which you silently thanked it for.

Your captors’ hands left your arms and legs as you soared into the air. Heat singed your back, then your feet, then your front. You hovered above the chasm for a silent second. Lightning extended out to welcome and change you. It danced over your skin to make you like itself: blazing, charged, and brilliant.

It drew you into the glowing orange rift and buffeted you between walls of molten rock. Electricity criss-crossed around your body. You fell and fell and fell, twisting and spinning, until it didn’t feel like falling at all. The lightning turned red as the walls, like lava fields, moved around you. Lava fields became dark, billowing clouds became tempests of ash.

Watery screeches came from behind you. Before you could question if something had followed you or spotted you between the swirls of ash, tiny knives bit into your legs, your back, your neck. With your vision obscured and sense of direction gone, you cried and flailed. Leathery wings beat at your face and arms. Hot, thick liquid trailed down your skin to soak your clothes.

Ours, they said.

No, you replied. Mine.

Ours.

You understood then: these creatures were yours. They were of you. They bit to drain you of weakness. They’d show you how to fill yourself with strength.

You stopped fighting them and surrendered—

And opened your eyes.

-

FYI: I've read kambaba jasper under your pillow helps with nightmares and/or night terrors. Evidently, you can also meditate with it before bed to protect your sleep.

[thatblondeperson]

My 20s had to go out with the most awkward bang ever, of course.

I texted a former coworker and friend of mine yesterday to see if I could pick up some hard drives of mine that he had, because I just kept forgetting to do so. Ended up setting up to do so tonight, so when we were both free, I messaged him, he gave me my address, and I plugged it into maps.

Well. First red flag was the building I ended up at not looking like the preview photo in maps. Figured, okay, they have a pic of a courtyard or something, not the street. Plus, no address on the street sign or anything, so I just went with it.

I see the building that says apartments 1-4, my friend is in 1, and I go up a staircase on the side, which starts taking me to the back patio of apt 4. Wrong way, already feeling awkward that i almost trespassed. Walk through a courtyard and I see apartments 1-3. Welcome mat doesn't look like something my friend would own, but the tiny 3D printed Cthulu sitting on the ring doorbell tells me I'm in the right place. I ring the doorbell, someone says "come in".

It did not sound like my friend, but I figure he has a roommate so I am not concerned. However, the second red flag should have been the fact the the entire apartment was dark when I walked inside, aside from the light upstairs.

I wait, thinking my friend may be upstairs playing a video game, or idk, putting a shirt on or something. I wait. Nothing happens.

I start feeling supremely awkward. Am I supposed to invite myself upstairs? That's weird and unnatural. I wait some more. I walk through the dark bottom floor because maybe my friend is outside on their back patio. I say hello very meekly but i cannot be heard over the sound of a dryer going.

I walk upstairs because now like 2-3 minutes have passed, though it feels like 20min. I am immediately met with 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. The bedroom is clearly occupied by someone watching TV, and though I cannot see them, I figure they're just watching TV. I KNOW I can't go in there. I panic and go back downstairs.

I'm panicking, I'm in full autism, awkward, pacing the floor and nervous ticking. I try to message my friend on discord but I have no internet. I pace, I wonder if I should leave. What do I do? I go upstairs again and I very meekly still, but slightly louder, call out hello while trying not to explode.

A like...6'3" muscle-y dude in just boxer briefs, covered in tats, walks out looking only mildly confused. I however, am a deer in headlights. Our conversation is exactly as follows:

Me: "oh, uh. Hm."

Dude: "who are you looking for?"

Me: "Ray?"

Dude: "I think you have the wrong apartment."

Me: "oh, I rang the doorbell and someone said come in."

Dude: "I thought it was maybe my mom, she's coming over tonight."

Me: "Ok, have a nice evening."

I fucking book it down the stairs and out of there, hyperventilating a bit as soon as I'm out in the frsh air. This man was not at all perturbed by my presence, a fucking stranger, on his stairs at 8:45PM. Although, I guess if I *was* robbing him, he could have easily overtaken me, so not really anything to fsar out of a panicked 5'5", 130lb girl, barely able to make eye contact.

My friend eventually helped me find his place which was on the sane street of course, but nowhere near where Google had taken me. I can only imagine though what his mother would have thought of she came in and saw some random girl pacing around her son's apartment, on the verge of nervous tears.

Anyway, here's to my 30s.

[justacuteduck]

I like a boy

Requested by anon

Here's the request

Nancy Wheeler×littlebrother! Reader

Wearings: none

Type: fluff

Characters: Nancy Wheeler×little brother reader

Fandom: Stranger Things

Summary: You have a crush on a guy named Andrew, but none knows your gay, so you decide to tell your sister.

You sighed, watching outside your window, it was a boring day, it was snowing outside and all of your friends were playing in the snow, everyone except for you.

You had flue so your mom said you had to stay home, meanwhile your twin brother Mike was playing in your garden.

But you weren't looking at your brother, you were looking at Andrew, a guy from your science classe, he was Mike's friend, but you and him never really talked.

You had a massive crush on Andrew, none knew , you were ashamed, because if someone found out you were gay, it would've been terrible.

You heard a soft knock on the door, and someone open it, you turned around to see your big sister, Nancy, on the door with a mug in her hand.

<<I made you hot chocolate, since you are sick>> She smiled placing it on your desk.

<<Thanks Nancy>> You smiled.

<<Nothing>> She sat on the bed next to you.

<<Do you feel better?>> She asked after some seconds.

<<Yeah, I feel good>> You forced a smile.

<<I feel like something is wrong with you y/n, and I am not talking about the flue, you're quite and you look always sad>> She said looking at you, but you avoided the eye contact.

<<There's something... I don't know how to tell you, I mean it's a secret but I need to tell someone>> You explained.

<<Well, I am here y/n, talk to me, I'll always love you, no matter what >> She smiled.

<<Well... I like someone, but I don't know what to do, I mean it feels so wrong>> You said.

<<Well if you like someone you should go and tell her, maybe she likes you back, who's she by the way?>> You sighed, not knowing if you should tell her or not.

<<That's the problem Nancy, its not a "She" it's a "he">> You felt hot tears run on your cheeks.

<<Oh, so it's a boy?>> You nodded, you wanted to disappear, sure that Nancy hated you now, you felt naked, exposed.

<<Who's he then?>>

<<Andrew>> You sighed.

<<Mike's friend?>> You nodded again, wiping of some tears with your sleeve.

<<Y/n, it's fine, don't cry>> She smiled rubbing your back.

<<Its fine?>> You asked looking at her, confused.

<<Yeah, I mean, its not easy, but it's not wrong, and you shouldn't be ashamed of it, if you like boys or girls or whatever you like it's fine, because you are you and you're following your heart.>> She smiled.

<<So you don't hate me now?>>

<<Why should I? You're still my little brother, and don't tell Mike and Holly, but you're my favourite. >> She chuckled, making you smile.

<<And plus I think that Andrew likes you back, every time he comes here and you aren't home he's always like: "where's y/n?>> She added.

<<Really?!>>

<<Yep, you should totally talk to him>> You smiled at her, but after a few seconds you started coughing hard.

<<Ok well maybe tomorrow, you can't go out like that>> You both laughed.

[celli-ohs]

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal

pairing: socially awkward!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: high school au; crack, comedy, fluff

synopsis: What happens when you get seated right next to the most handsome boy in your entire grade? Well you thought it'd be a great excuse to get to know him better, but the guy won't even talk to you! After a mishap in the science lab, you come to find out that Park Sunghoon, the cold-hearted prince of EN High, isn't in fact rude, he's just afraid of women.

before you read: character profiles

warnings: language, cooties, wild subplot, loser enhypen

word count: 2.6k

taglist (open):

note: part 1 of my and scene! series, loosely based off en-drama.

Log 1: Monday - March 4th, 2024

The first day back at school meant many things for Park Sunghoon: homework, long lessons, but none of those stressed Sunghoon out more than girls.

Not because he was interested in them. In fact, Sunghoon felt the opposite, he was terrified of the female race. His only exceptions were his mother and sister.

(He couldn’t even keep eye contact with Jaeyun’s mom, and that was his best friend.)

He’d have to face another full year of avoiding their stares, dodging their grabby hands, and running away from conversations. Just the thought of it all had Sunghoon sighing from exhaustion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Jungwon suddenly whispers (quite loudly actually) to Jongseong, catching Sunghoon’s attention. 

Sunghoon turns to his friends on his left confused, leaning back to give Jongseong a view of wherever Jungwon was looking at.

Jongseong’s blank expression turns sour, and he sighs before walking up behind Sunghoon, past Sunoo to- Who was that?!

“Heeseung, what’re you doing?” Jongseong approaches the tall boy, somehow he’s still keeping up with the group. 

The stranger, as everyone now learned was named Heeseung, turns around and smiles at the second year. 

“Hey Jongseong! Nothing much, just walking to school.” He shrugs, as if he hadn’t walked right in between Sunoo and Riki. Jongseong looked concerned, but instead he just shook his head and returned to his spot next to Jungwon and Sunghoon. 

“Let’s just go,” He waves it off. And so the six of them continue to walk, awkwardly letting Heeseung join. 

“You know him?” Sunghoon mutters to Jongseong. 

“Yeah, he was my senior in middle school,” Jongseong mumbles back. “Don’t worry, he’s harmless, he probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing.” 

Sunghoon glances over his shoulder, Heeseung is busy fixing his hair out of his face. “Okay,” Sunghoon begrudgingly nods. 

Luckily, they’d already arrived at school, the seven of them trudging up the hill to EN High School. 

A prestigious private school nestled in the heart of Seoul, EN-High was bustling with bright young minds. 

“Can’t believe we’re in the same class again!” Jaeyun gives Sunghoon a side hug as they enter the school’s large hallway. “I hope we get to sit near each other, or maybe we’ll sit next to each other!” 

Jaeyun’s high energy has Sunghoon feeling a bit better about the new school year. “I hope we get to sit next to each other too,” He admits. At least that way he doesn’t have to worry about being sat by a girl.

The two best friends walk down the hallway, making their way to their respective classroom. It’s already filled with students, everyone rummaging through their bags, lockers, and desks. 

“ ‘Find your name on your desk. That is your seat for the rest of the term.’ “ Jaeyun reads the chalk on the board.

“I’m gonna go put my stuff away in my locker first,” Sunghoon lets Jaeyun know. As he walks past a few people to the lockers in the back of the class, he can already hear the whispers. 

“Isn’t that Park Sunghoon?” “I didn’t know he was in our class.” “He looks so scary.” 

Sunghoon could feel his stomach twist and turn. He hated this the most, the gossiping. The way all the girls would gather around, giggle and point at him like he was some kind of animal in a zoo. 

Trying his best to ignore it all, Sunghoon opens his locker to put away his bag, only to find a pile of boxes and letters.

“Again?” Jaeyun sticks his head into the locker. “Come on guys, you know Sunghoon doesn’t like it when you all invade his privacy.” Jaeyun turns to be stern to their classmates, only to be ignored. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just trash it.” Sunghoon mumbles, already carrying the pile to the trash can out in the hall. Once returning he places his bag inside, grabbing his essentials before searching for his desk. 

“I’m sitting over here.” Jaeyun points to his desk in the middle row. He was paired with some other boy in their class. Sunghoon scans the desks as he searches for his name.

Inconveniently he sits across the classroom from his best friend, next to the wall. Worried, Sunghoon scans the room. Majority of the class has found their seats, talking amongst themselves. Jaeyun was already deep in conversation with his new seatmate Jaehyun. The closest girl within his vicinity sat three seats away, a blessing in disguise. 

As Sunghoon sat down, he felt his worries begin to wash away, his heartbeat calming to a trill. He let out a small sigh of relief, finally taking the time to organize his items on his desk.

He hears his seatmate ultimately take their seat to his left when he’s busy grabbing a fallen pencil that had rolled off his desk. When Sunghoon sits back up, pencil in hand, he turns to greet them only to drop his pencil once more.

Beside him was not a male classmate, but you, a girl.

And for the first time in ten years, Sunghoon made eye contact with a woman (who wasn’t his mom or sister).

“Hi!” You smile at him, all pretty.

His response is to turn around, ignore you, and pray you were just a figment of his imagination and that you’d disappear.

Instead you continue talking. “I’m Y/n,” You say, but Sunghoon is too busy having a mental breakdown to hear you.

It was as if his world were falling apart. There had to be some way out of this! 

Maybe he could switch seats with Jaeyun. No, even if Jaeyun agreed, there were two girls sitting behind him.

Or maybe he could lie and say he had a medical disability where he had to sit somewhere else? He’d have to fake a doctor’s note and forge the whole thing. Not easy.

He could beg his home room teacher to let him sit in the corner by himself. That idea was already halfway down the drain when he remembered his own teacher was a woman. 

All the odds were against him, there was no way out-

“Hey, I think Ms. Hong called on you-“ You try to tap his shoulder, only for Sunghoon to practically fall out of his chair in trying to avoid your touch. 

He can’t even look at you as he scrambles up, but he’s sure you’re disgusted.

“P-Park Sunghoon.” He stutters his name, eyes dancing around the figure of his home room teacher Ms. Hong. 

She gestures for him to sit, and he obeys, but not before scooting his desk a centimeter away from yours.

God this was so embarrassing, he might as well die right here and now.

Throughout class, all Sunghoon can think about is how he could minimize your interactions for the rest of the term. 

It isn’t until Jaeyun approaches him to grab lunch does he realizes you haven't spoken to him since the morning. 

“You’re seriously just gonna ignore her all term? What if we get a group project or something?” Jaeyun asks with a mouth full of food.

“Then I guess I’ll just become a high school dropout.” Sunghoon decides. 

“Nuh uh, no one is dropping out.” Riki sits up, oddly catching attention. “Before me.” He finishes and now everyone rolls their eyes at his joke(?).

“Don’t worry, with your grades you’ll be dropping out of here by next term.” Jongseong pats the younger boy’s arm. 

Riki initially smiles, but it falls once Jongseong’s words process. 

“What the fu-“

“Stop acting like a baby.” Sunoo teases. “It’s not like she actually did anything to you, she just said hi.”

Sunghoon sits back in his seat, mindlessly stirring his food with his fork. As he slumped, Jaeyun stepped in to defend him.

“Come on guys, you know what happened to Hoon.” He rubs Sunghoon’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“I’m not even gonna lie, if that happened to me I’d be homeschooled.” Jungwon grimaces.

Riki slaps his arm, giving the boy a look. “Ow! Why’d you do that? I’m older than you, you know.” Jungwon glares.

“You’re making him feel even worse, look.” Sunghoon is indeed sulking in his seat, having lost his appetite and apparently his will to live too.

“Sorry.” Jungwon mumbles, lips going thin.

Jongseong clears his throat. “Anyways, I heard school elections are coming up soon. I’m thinking of running.”

Now it’s Jaeyun’s turn to laugh. “You? You’re not student body material.”

As the two boys begin to argue, Sunoo cackling to the side, someone stops at the head of their table. 

“Hey guys! Can I sit here for lunch?” Heeseung was back, much to the group’s dismay. 

Sunghoon can see an alarm go off in Riki’s head as Jungwon sends Jongseong a desperate cry for help through his eyes. 

“Heeseung,” Jongseong pauses, eyes staring intently at his senior. After what feels like a long period of time (realistically it was about ten seconds), Jongseong scoots over and pats the seat beside him. Heeseung’s eyes light up as he sits down between Jongseong and Jaeyun, all giddy.

As Heeseung begins to make conversation with the other boys, Sunghoon stands up, dumping his tray of food into the trash. 

“Where are you going?” Jaeyun calls out. “Calligraphy club.” He answers curtly, walking out of the cafeteria. As Sunghoon ventures down the hallway, he can feel the stares of his schoolmates, their giggles and whispers making him uncomfortable. He speeds up, making his way to the club room.

But when he opens the door, he’s surprised to find not an empty room, but a group of students eating lunch. 

“Who are you?” He asks, taken aback. 

“Who are you? We’re the debate club.” A boy answers. Sunghoon steps back out into the hall, reading the sign on the door. It definitely read debate club, but he could have sworn this was the calligraphy club’s room just last year. 

“What happened to the calligraphy club?” He asks, now concerned. The boy shrugs, and the group goes back to eating. Gritting his teeth, Sunghoon closes the door and heads to the teacher’s office. He had to talk to Mr. Kim. 

He rushes inside, knocking on the door in a hurry. “Hello Mr. Kim,” He says in a hurried breath. The older man looks up at him perplexed, putting down his plate of food. “Sunghoon, hello.”

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” He apologizes. “But what happened to the calligraphy club room? Why is it suddenly the debate club’s room?”

Mr. Kim looks even more confused now. “There is no calligraphy club this year, there’s no members.”

“I’m a member!” He exclaims. 

Mr. Kim takes his glasses off and sighs. “Sunghoon, a club requires at least three members. After Seungkwan and Soobin graduated, only you were left. We had no sign ups for this new year so by school rules, the club was terminated.”

As if his day couldn’t get any worse. 

“Please Mr. Kim, I need the calligraphy club, I love the club! It’s my only stress reliever.” He begs. Mr. Kim has a sour expression on his face. 

“Fine, but only because you’re a good student, Sunghoon.” He nods. Sunghoon feels his worries begin to wash away. “You just have to find one more member, that’s my only exception.”

His face drops. “But Mr. Kim-”

“No more exceptions, I’m already letting you keep the club, just have one of your friends join you.” He suggests, turning back to his food. 

“Well what about a room? Where can I go?” Mr. Kim sits in thought as he chews. “How about the old library? No one uses it anymore, and it's quiet.”

Sunghoon nods. “That’s perfect, thank you Mr. Kim.” He finally smiles, and takes his leave.

As he walks down the hall though, he suddenly realizes something. 

“Where’s the old library?”

After a lot of searching (and refusing to ask for directions, leading to him getting lost more than once), Sunghoon finally found the old library, hidden in the far east wing of the school. 

Apparently, this was the only library at EN-High ten years ago, but when the newer main library opened up, students found it more clean and updated, as well as more conveniently located, so they stopped visiting the old one.

EN-High was supposed to renovate it, but their plans were halted for some unknown reason, so the old library sits patiently waiting for its future.

The door creaks as Sunghoon pushes it open, revealing the old small library. It’s brightly lit from the large wide windows, and covered in dust. 

This was perfect. He was away from all the eyes, alone in his own little nook. For once, Sunghoon could have peace of mind in school. 

Now he just needed another member so that he could keep this sanctuary. He’d ask Jaeyun, but he’s already a part of the soccer club, Jongseong did baseball, Jungwon had taekwondo after school, and Riki’s too dedicated to the dance club. Sunoo was his only option. 

He had to find Sunoo and ask him. He wouldn’t even force Sunoo to actually show up, he just needed him to agree-

The sound of the door opening has Sunghoon freezing like a statue. Who the hell could that be?!

“Hello? I’m here to sign up for the calligraphy club?”

Oh God, that was the voice of a woman. 

He couldn’t bring himself to step out from the shelf he was hiding behind. 

“Mr. Kim sent me? He said you were looking for a member?”

Why was she getting closer? He had to escape. Was the calligraphy club worth it?

“I promise I genuinely want to learn, I brought my own kit,”

He had to get out of here. Maybe he could go around and-

“Oh it’s you.”

Sunghoon feels his blood run cold, his stomach dropping. He’s too terrified to turn around and face this girl.

“Sunghoon, right? It’s me, your seatmate Y/n,” 

Oh dear Lord in Heaven, why must you punish me?

“Are you a part of the calligraphy club?” You keep talking to him as if everything was normal, approaching him closer and closer.

Using all his strength, Sunghoon spins around slowly, eyes dancing around your face. “Yeah.” He coughs out.

You hand him a paper, and he reluctantly grabs it. “This is my application.”

He unfolds it, finding the ugliest calligraphy he’s ever seen in his life. It was barely legible.

“This is horrible,” He mumbles.

“Exactly why I’m applying!” You explain, though he catches a bit of annoyance in your tone. 

He clears his throat, looking at the floor as he folds the paper up and pockets it.

Despite his initial fear of you, Sunghoon's pity for how talentless you were overwhelmed him.

“Fine.”

Y/n gasps excitedly. “So I’m a club member now?”

“I guess.” He shrugs, feeling sick. You’re clapping your hands together in celebration. 

“Great! When do we meet?” You skip out back to the main lobby. 

Sunghoon only shrugs, refusing to even look in your direction.

“I’m kinda busy today and tomorrow, how about this Wednesday after school?” You suggest. 

“O-Okay.” He mutters. He hears you hum to yourself. “Cool, see you later then,” You bid goodbye, and once the door shut Sunghoon released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

There’s a sharp pain in his chest, and he feels dizzy, so he decides to lean against a shelf, catching his breath. 

Suddenly the door swings open again, and Sunghoon practically breaks his neck as he swivels around to see why’d you’d returned.

“Finally! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jaeyun sounds relieved as he walks inside the old library. “Hey are you okay?” He finally realizes the state Sunghoon is in.

Sunghoon grabs onto his friend's arm, gripping on for dear life.

“Call an ambulance.”

Tuesday - March 5th, 2024

I Can't, I Have Rehearsal masterlist | and scene! series masterlist | kpop masterlist

reply/comment for taglist!

[blackasmyhangryfurrybrokensoul]

Childhood. The best time of a person' life. Right?

Childhood. The days where I could (not) play outside with other kids. Childhood. The days where everything was (not) fun and you were responsible for nothing (but the welfare of myself and my whole family). Childhood. The days I could go up to strangers and pet their dogs (and get yelled at for it).

The days I could not even make eye contact with the neighbors daughter because I wasn't allowed to play with her because she wasn't muslim. The days I'd tell my mom I'm starving and she couldn't do anything about it because my dad wanted her to pay attention to him instead. The days where I parrotted my parents' beliefs to my grandmother, criticizing her beliefs. The days I was told to avoid people in stores and parks. The days my mom would sob for hours and all I could do was watch or pat her on the back. The long afternoons I spent in an empty apartment, making a game out of the bare floor tiles. The days I would watch the cars come and go from my apartment window. The days where I spent more time in my head than outside. The days where I didn't understand why no one would stay my friend. The days where I would get forgotten at school. The days when crying made me oversensitive. The days when my anger wasn't taken seriously. The days when my mom was too busy with my sisters. The days when my parents were always angry. The days I would pray to god in the backseat that they calm down. The days when any car ride with them felt terrifying. The days when I would write notes to my dad telling him i was upset about stuff, and he wouldn't even read it. The days where I had no idea what any of my peers were talking about. The days where I was the only one who didn't have the cool TV channels. The days where I couldn't afford to buy books when I wanted. The days where I had to teach myself because nobody could be bothered to hire a tutor. The days that I went over to my aunt's house to snack on her food because we didn't have anything. The days when my family bothered me about my low weight when I could do nothing about it. The days when I wasn't allowed to hang out with any friends. The days when I only left my house for school and the doctor. The days when I'd get yelled at for wearing lipstick. The days I'd get yelled at if my aunts took me out and we came back past 9. The days I'd be scared to death of missing my bedtime. The days I became a therapist to my mom, then my sisters, then my dad. The days I became the family moderator. The days no one noticed or understood my harmful stim because no one would actually ask me what's going on and no one would listen, not even the doctors. The days when bleeding and open wounds felt good. The days when I would only get seen as a struggling child when I would explode on others. The days I'd only get taken seriously if I yelled. The days I had to act like I didn't care for love or cute stuff or soft feelings because they seemed taboo and "pointless" in my household. The days I felt really really lonely. The days I was felt so confused by the people at school, not understanding how they all seemed able to interact with others so well. The days I did creepy art in hopes they'd disturb the people around me. The days I craved shock because that was attention without friendly commitment. The days I wasn't allowed to really dress like a girl. The later days where I didn't know how to dress like a girl. The day I got slapped for asking for comfort. The days I had no internet.

I can't wait to get older. "But you'll wish you were young again". Not at all. Maybe I might wish for a DIFFERENT childhood. But i would never want to relive the childhood I had. I would barely stand reliving my teenage years, and only if I could know what I do now. Getting older is one of the best things to happen to me, and I don't wanna look back too much.

I had to be so alone and independent and responsible then. Now I feel like a child having to catch up to a bunch of more emotionally developed people.

I walked out of my house yesterday needing space, with this newfound freedom that really only came with guts and age. I was a kid, now finally able to run away from people asking too much of me. Finally able to tell my family that I've had enough of their bullshit. There's so much anger I can't express. So much that I just wanna drop it all and walk away. Never mention it, just disappear. I had o tire myself out, so I powerwalked, sometimes ran, through my neighbourhood. It felt like the child I was was running in my place, running from something more than a creepy car in the parking lot. It felt like a memory I never got to have. It felt like defeat. It felt like fear. It felt like sorrow, sorrow that I could put somewhere besides myself. It felt like "fuck it all". It felt like not caring if I upset people anymore. It felt like knowing that my dad's reaction to me wandering the streets at 10pm can't be worse than how my sister and mom have been acting.

I'm exhausted

My misery is not just my dad. Or just my mom. Or just my sister. It's the collective experience. Each one alone might be okay. Just not together. My mom says that we'd be fine just without him. He thinks so too. I still don't think that would fix everything. I cannot be their therapist. I cannot be the only reasonable person in this house. When I say I wanna run away from my family, I mean them all. I don't mind having to deal with them from a respectful distance. I don't mind dealing with them as long as they don't hold me closer than they hold the voices in their own heads. I don't mind, if they actually improve on the things they say they will. As long as I don't always have to be the one raising them and walking them step by step through life. I'd rather not be so close to them if this is how they're gonna deal with me.

[editorandchief]

can you plsss make a part 2 to the Tommy x daughter when she got kidnapped fhgdyjhdd sorry, you don’t have to I just thought it was really well written ^^

Summary: Part One

Warning: PTSD

Requested: Yes.

Taglist 🏷: @literishdegree99 @kittycatcait219 @oppile91 @unknowntoyou2205 @naxxsstuff @katherinemelissa @faatxma @skinmittensgoblin @bmh-mjh-bitchessss

The Taglist are just of the people who asked for a part two if you would like to be untagged you can let me know.

"Alright that's all, please feel free to continue about your days." Tommy said as the family meeting was coming to an end.

Y/N Shelby sat in a chair back pressed against the large book shelf that stood opposite the door. 

"I have something I'd like to say." She announced as everyone began to exit. "Something I need to say." She clarified.

Freezing in their tracks they all stop to look at the young girl before looking over to her father to see his reaction. Tommy took a few moments to also assesse his daughter before taking a seat back at his desk prompting everyone to reclaim their seats. 

"And what is it that you would like to say?" Tommy asked pulling out a cigarette from his jacked pocket and lighting a flame. 

"I've decided to leave." Y/N announced her eyes scanning over the different reaction of her family. "I'm gonna be moving out next week and my stuff will be gone by the end of the month." 

The room was eerily silent as the family knew that in situation that concerned Y/N and Tommy it was best to stay quiet but present incase thing were to get out of hand. 

Keeping his eyes on this daughter, Tommy let out a sigh before removing the cigarett from his mouth setting it on his desk along side the lighter.

"Moving out?" Tommy asked the 15 year old making sure he had heard her right. "And who exactly do you plan to do that?" 

Y/N watched as he interlocked his fingers and leaned forward on the desk, at least he was taking her seriously. 

"I'm going to move in with my mum." She answered adjusting her posture as she struggles to hold his gaze. "I've been in contact with her and she invited me to come live with her." 

"And how, may I ask, did you get in contact with your mother?" 

"No."

"No?"

"You may not ask." Y/N stated knowing that anyone involved in helping her would pay a price heavier than their 'crime'. Tommy scoffed maybe he would find this situation amusing if not for the context. 

"So you, through unknown means, were able to contact the woman who dropped you off to our doorstep and disappeared without a trace and now fifteen years later expect me to allow you to just fuck off with her to god knows where?" Tommy summarized. "And you're running off with a stranger on the promises of lollipops and rainbows, does she even have a place for you to stay?"

"She was young back then, she couldn't raise a child on her own." 

"I was young too, but I took care of you because you were mine." Tommy countered. "While she was too irresponsible to take care of her own child."

"She's different now, she married to a nice man...." Y/N defended her mother. "I've got sibling...they all live in London in a nice house." 

"And how do you know any of this is true?" Tommy asked rubbing his hand across his forehead in frustration. "She could be telling you anything to get you to London." 

"I know cause I've seen it. I've been there. met them." She confessed angrily looking to her father for insinuating she was some stupid child clinging to word with nothing to back it up. "I went to meet her last month, the week I was gone."

"Last month?" Tommy asked standing from his seat coming around to lean on the side of the desk facing her full on arms folded across his chest. "When you told me you were going to visit your friend Olivia? Though I suspect she doesn't exist." 

"She's one of my sisters." She clarified avoiding eye contact for a few moments before looking back to her father's face. "I spent time with them. My stepdad is a nice man, he's a banker, he treated me nice. When mom said she wanted me to live with them he said he wouldn't mind." 

"A banker? and what is they call him?" Tommy asked reaching back over to the desk to retrieve his cigarette and lighter. Y/N was hesitant at first but know he would find out sooner or later.

"Anthony Crestwood." She sighed.

"Right, Isaiah." 

"Yeah Tom?"

"I need you to get the address of the the Crestwood family, I'd like to have a call with Mr. Crestwood and his wife." He informed the young blinder never looking away from Y/N.

"Your going to call them?" Y/N asked only slightly confused seeing as he had every right to want to speak to the couple who would be housing his daughter. 

"Yes. Yes I am." Tommy answered lighting the cigarette between his lips. "And I will be informing the Crestwood family that upon their arrival to Arrow House in an attempt to remove my child there should be no doubt in there minds that at that exact moment their home will be burning to the ground." Taking a drag of the nicotine he watched as his daughter eyes widened in disbelief as she stood from her seat. 

"You can't do that." 

"I can." Tommy replied. "I can and  I will but not if you don't make me. It's time you learned action have consequences" He said pointing at her with the cigarette between his fingers. 

"So this is how it's going to be?" She asked. "You don't care about be so that means that no one else can?" 

"I care for you, you know what I do but you have chosen to forget that in the wake of one mistake." Tommy shouted

"'It's time you've learned your actions have consequences' or does that not apply to you, just everyone else?"

"So this is a 'consequence' an attempt for you to punish me for how I've wronged you." Tommy accused.

"God are you kidding- No!" Y/N shouted. "This is an attempt to free myself. this is an attempt to not have nightmares every time I close my eyes because for the last few months that all it ever is! Because every time I look at your face the only thing I can see is that man laughing and telling my that my father didn't give a damn about me and believing him because I had no prove to say otherwise.  

I've tried to forgive you, you have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to run to you like when I was younger and think that you'd never let anything hurt me, that the worries of the world don't exist inside the comfort of your arms but I can't.

So no Tomas...I'm not doing this to you, I'm doing this for me."  

The two stood there both looking into each other's eyes it was only then that Tommy truly saw how broken his daughter was on the inside and Y/N saw how desperate her father was to keep her. 

"I fucked up. I know I fucked up but you have to see that I am trying." Tommy admitted. "That I can't make this better if you run away." 

"I know you are...but I can't get better if I stay."  

"..."

[number1mingyustan]

Bittersweet (Chapter 8—In My Head)||k.mgyu + j.ww

Genre: neighbors to lovers, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

Warnings: cursing, angst, so much pining, mingyu is sad and doesn't know how to cope, not proofread

Summary: in which emotions aren't for everyone, so it's sometimes easier to avoid

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

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(a/n: i literally don’t like this chapter but it’s more of a filler anyway 🙁 although i do hole it clears up some of the questions you guys might have)

He really should have known better. He doesn't get attached, he doesn't do feelings. Why did you have to come back into his life and change that?

He should have never agreed to your deal in the first place. The second he opened that door for you, he opened up so much more and he absolutely fucking hates it.

He really should have known better.

That home movie should've been a warning to him. You left his at the alter for fuck's sake. He should've known things wouldn't have changed. He always liked you more than you liked him growing up. Around middle school however, that's when he really came to terms with his feelings.

He liked you long before that, but he didn't understand it then. And by the time he did understand it, he didn't know how to cope. He was confused and horny all the time, he suddenly had friends that weren't you, and he didn't know what to do about it.

So Mingyu did what he did best.

He avoided it.

He took advantage of the fact that he had new friends and a sport he loves. He busied his schedule and pushed you out of it. When his mom started asking questions about why you and him weren't hanging out anymore, he lied. Mingyu never lied.

You tried to reach out too. You'd still come over sometimes with your mom, but he'd lock himself in his room and say he was busy or fake sick. You'd write notes and hold them up in front of your window like always, only now he wouldn't write back. He'd close the blinds or pretend he didn't see.

You were at different schools now, so you never saw each other during the day. And eventually, you didn't see each other at all. You eventually got the message and stopped trying.

Mingyu felt so guilty every time he pushed you away, and it only got worse when you stopped trying. He just didn’t know how to talk to you anymore. He assumed you hated him for the way he treated you too, and he felt like shit.

There were so many times over the years where he wanted to talk to you. Show up at your door because he knew you were home alone and just… spend time with you. It had always come so natural to him, but not anymore.

He still remembers the first time you got locked out the house. He’s just started highschool, and you were in your last year of middle school. He was home alone, like always and he remembers opening the door.

You looked different. You were nervous, hardly able to make eye contact with him and talk above a whisper. You were unusually shy and timid. But secretly, he was happy to see you.

He felt somewhat disappointed when you explained you were over there to get they key, not to see him. He should’ve known better though, you weren’t friends anymore.

He knew he wasn’t going to be the one to rekindle the spark. He doubted himself too much. He just secretly hoped you would come back into his life, even if he wasn’t the one to initiate it.

But then you did. And it’s been perfect. He’s loved having you around, maybe too much. Everything fell back into place with you, easily. It was really like nothing had changed.

But that included his feelings.

He’s not really sure when they came back, or if they ever really left him. He’s never been in a relationship, simply filling the void with different girls night after night. He’d always told himself he did hookups because it was easier than a relationship. In part, it was true. But he couldn’t do relationships because they weren’t with you.

For fuck's sake, the girl is usually the one who catches feelings for sex, not the guy.

Especially not Mingyu.

He mistook his feeling for you as sexual attraction. You showed up at his door asking him to have sex with you after years of him wishing you would show up and talk to him.

He was going to take what he could get, so he agreed. His head was so fucked that he couldn’t look at you and think you were pretty, his mind would tell him ‘you’re hot.’

His mind also told him it was okay to sleep with you. Egged him on actually. Made him think you were just another body he could add to his list. Foolishly told him his feelings for you were just sexual.

He was so wrong.

It wasn't his fault. He blames it on puberty. Before he stopped talking to you he was always so horny around you. It sort of stuck with him even to this day and really fucked with his head.

But now, his mind is clear as day.

He's not paying attention to the shallow things about you anymore. He's thinking about your smile, how much he loves it even though you never show your teeth. He knows it's because your front left tooth is crooked and you hate it, but he still thinks its adorable.

He's thinking about how you throw pillows at him when you get embarrassed. And how you fidget and play with your thumbs when you're nervous. He thinks about how much of a lightweight you are, and how he can already imagine himself having to take care of you when you go out together, or if you were to come home to him tipsy.

How you tease him just as much as he teases you. How you're surprisingly strong and constantly shoving him any time he makes those teasing comments. The look on your face when you're winding up a pitch, eyes narrowed and locked in. How you bite your bottom lip when you're focused on your studies. How you love wearing his clothes even though their way too big, yet both of you agree that they look better on you than him.

Now here he was on a Tuesday morning in bed instead of school. He had the decency to text you he wasn't going to be able to drive you because he 'wasn't feeling well.'

You being the absolute sweetheart you are responded by wishing him better and promising to check on him throughout the day. He watched from his window as you walked to school.

You were wearing purple, he always thought that color looked pretty on you. He could feel his heart twisting in his chest as he sunk back into bed.

Kim Mingyu was helplessly in love and he couldn't lie to himself about it anymore.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day off was helpful, but the next day at school was still dreadful. He drove you to school like usual, although the ride was much quieter than usual. Mingyu didn't say much the whole way to school.

He could hardly look you in the eyes, let alone engage in an entire conversation with you. Every time you were on his mind (which was always), his heart rate would pick up.

Yet every pump of his heart felt strained. The blood pumping through the vessels felt tight and painful. You made his heart beat faster, but fuck, it hurt so bad.

He was bombarded with 'where were you yesterday?'s the entire day. He gave short responses about how he was sick. Suddenly, he hated the attention. He didn't want to be social even though he knew his friends just cared about him.

He wanted to be left alone.

Instead of going to lunch, Mingyu went up to the baseball field. He needed to get away, go somewhere he could let out his feelings. His happy place.

The outdoor batting cage was already set up and there were extra bats in the shed. He winded up the machine and did what he did best.

He didn't miss a single pitch. Every ball that came at him went soaring into the top of the net. He was finally able to focus on something that wasn't you (sort of). Mingyu's always been an incredible hitter, but in those few minutes before he needed to reload the machine, Mingyu had never hit like that before.

He put all his power and frustration into his swing. He made solid contact with the ball, causing an echo across the field with each swing. He didn't mind the painful tingling sensation after each hit, matter of fact, it encouraged him. It made him feel something. Anything.

His last hit was a line drive straight into the back of the net. He dropped the bat, breathing heavily before he went to collect the balls and reload the machine.

"Hope you hit like that at the game tomorrow" a voice says from behind him.

He stops in his track, turning around and peaking his head up.

"I always hit like that," he responds.

"No you don't," Jeonghan replies. "You always hit well, but not like that. Something's changed."

Mingyu rolls his eyes and mumbles. "Whatever."

Mingyu continues to reload the machine until Jeonghan breaks the silence again.

"I thought you said they weren't official," he mentions.

"What?"

"Y/n and Wonwoo," Jeonghan leans against the post holding up the net. "They were all coupled up yesterday while you were home. I was just confused because you said they weren't official."

"It's a recent thing," Mingyu grumbles. "He asked her out after practice on Monday. If you really wanted to know that, you couldn've asked Wonwoo or Y/n about it."

"I wanted to ask you," Jeonghan persists.

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but I kind of came here to be alone Jeonghan," Mingyu bites.

"Hmm," Jeonghan completely ignores Mingyu's request to be alone. "If I asked Wonwoo, he probably wouldn't have been straightforward with me. You know how he is. And Y/n?"

He laughs. "Definitely not asking her. Don't really like the chick."

Jeonghan doesn't like you?

Mingyu has somehow missed the fact that he's never once seen you talk to Jeonghan. Even in a group setting. It's not really his fault though, it's not like he's constantly monitoring you and a group of 13 boys is hard to keep up with. He simply assumed you got along with all his friends.

Besides, his mind went blank any time you talked to Wonwoo. That was the only time he ever really paid attention when you talked to his friends.

"C'mon, aren't you going to ask me why?" Jeonghan smirks. "She is the love of your life after all."

"Jeonghan," Mingyu turns off the machine. "What are you talking about."

"At first, I just didn't really get along with her. She and I never really interacted, she's just not my cup of tea. It wasn't surprising, integrating into a friendgroup fo of 13 it's inevitable she wouldn't get along with everyone. I kept my distance, but she just felt so familiar to me. Couldn't get the thought out of my head."

Jeonghan sighs. "And then I remembered."

__

"I'm gonna be player 2!" Wonwoo shouts, grabbing the remote controller from Vernon's hand.

"NO!" Vernon yells back just as loud. "You're player 3!"

"Screw you, I'm gonna be player 1," Wonwoo smirks.

"No you're not, idiot," Jeonghan rolls his eyes. "Mingyu is gonna be player 1, it's his house and his Wii. You can be player 4."

"Jeonghan, you suck." Wonwoo glares.

"Ha!" Vernon laughs. "You have to be player four!"

But of course, boys will be boys. Wonwoo decides this is the perfect moment to tackle Vernon for the player two remotes again, and out of pettiness.

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, deciding to go look for something to eat. He enters the kitchen, surprised to see Mingyu standing at the door... talking to someone? An unfamiliar girl.

"Why are you here?" Mingyu asks.

"I thought- I thought that maybe we could hang out," you respond.

"No," Mingyu states coldly. "I don't want to hang out with you anymore. I have new friends."

"You're always avoiding me, I don't know what I did," you pout.

"I just don't want to talk to you anymore!" Mingyu exclaims. "Just leave me alone."

Mingyu closes the door, jumping up as he's startled by Jeonghan's presence.

"Who was that?" Jeonghan asks.

"Just my lame neighbor," Mingyu mumbles. "Don't worry about it."

Despite the words he heard, Jeonghan couldn't help but notice a major contrast in body language. The eyes. He could see the way you were looking at Mingyu, and the way Mingyu was looking at you. And he hates it.

__

To this day, Jeonghan is an incredible friend. He may have an odd way of showing it, but he's the type of friend to look out for you. And he has the incredible ability to read people. He chooses the people he associates with wisely, he knows right off the bat when someone's intentions are good or bad. He's always had keen intuition.

And that's how he knew.

Mingyu may have been acting coldly toward you, but behind those brown orbs was nothing but love. Even though Mingyu was only in 6th grade at the time, Jeonghan could see it. The way Mingyu looked at you was like you meant everything to him. Like you were his entire world, the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

And yes, while you were the one reaching out, your eyes told a different story. You looked at Mingyu like you cared, yes, but nothing like the way Mingyu looked at you. You didn't love Mingyu the way he loved you, Jeonghan had barely gotten a good look at your face and he could already tell.

Jeonghan knew right then and there that you were going to break Mingyu's heart. He figured it was a good thing Mingyu was pushing you away, he was avoiding a heartbreak.

So when you showed up again all these years later, Jeonghan could see nothing had changed. Mingyu still looked at you the same, although he hadn't realized it. There was a faint sparkle in Mingyu's eyes when he looked at you or heard your name.

But you only ever saw him as a friend, maybe even a brother.

He saw how it progressed over time. How Mingyu's eyes would brighten more around you, the same looks that you gave to Wonwoo. Jeonghan knew that your being around was destined to end in Mingyu getting hurt.

He could sense some sort of tension between you and Mingyu that went both ways, but the love was one sided. He could read you like a book, and while you were a great friend, you couldn't be anything more than that to Mingyu.

As long as you were in his life, Mingyu was going to get hurt.

"We were only in 6th grade when I saw her for the first time, but I could see it. You know how good I am at reading people," Jeonghan starts.

"You are," Mingyu agrees.

"I saw the way you looked at her, the way you still look at her. I'd think it was a great thing that you're in love, only if she looked at you the same way."

"What are you trying to say?" Mingyu quirks an eyebrow.

"I'm saying that I knew right then and there she didn't feel the same about you, and she still doesn't. I knew she was gonna break your heart."

Mingyu doesn't like that Jeonghan was right, he hates it even more than Jeonghan could tell within 3 seconds of seeing you and Mingyu has just now come to that realization.

"So tell me Mingyu, was my intuition right?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mingyu could hardly sit through class. Luckily it's his last one of the day, yet he remains restless. It's a study hall, so he excuses himself to go to the library.

Now Mingyu's not really the type to spend his time in the library, but he figures it might actually be good for him.

But of course, nothing has been going his way lately. Why did he think his luck was going to change now?

When he enters the library, his heart sinks. There you are sitting at a table with Wonwoo. It looks like you're helping him study. You're both smiling like crazy, it gives him chills.

Not even he's seen Wonwoo this happy.

Of course, he doesn't miss how the two of you are sharing a pair of earbuds. His chest constricts more, like all the blood is being wrung out of it like a towel.

He should've known better. You were still you, of course you'd be in the library. You were still the top-of-the-class student you always were, it just breaks his heart that you're here with him.

Mingyu doesn't know what to do. It already hurt enough that you didn't want him, but he hates it even more because he doesn't know what to do. Mingyu is usually good at keeping himself composed, and he can think his way through situations pretty well.

But after pushing it all down for so long, it's here, he can't ignore it, and he doesn't know what to do. He needs to get away from you, but all he wants is to be around you. He wants to hold you again, have you come over and spend time with him.

Mingyu leaves the library just as quickly as he entered, making sure neither you nor Wonwoo notices he was ever there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

At practice, he doesn't hit nearly as well as he did earlier in the day. Not when he sees you and Wonwoo practicing and smiling out of his peripheral.

His swing has lost its power and precision. You've really thrown him off his game, literally.

He waits for you in his car for nearly 10 minutes because you get caught up talking to Wonwoo. Mingyu tries to distract himself with his phone, but it's so difficult when you're filling his head.

When you do finally get to the car, the drive home is similar to the one on the way there. Mingyu doesn't really talk to you, he just mindlessly agrees with what you're saying every now and then.

He doesn't really want to invite you inside like usual, but he doesn't want to make it more obvious that something is off. So like always, the two of you head into his room.

Although this time, there's no kissing. No touching, no moaning. None of that. You're really off limits now, no matter what Mingyu may want.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, placing your book down.

"Yeah," Mingyu lies. "Why?"

"I don't know, you've just been... quiet. I was starting to think I did something wrong," you pout.

"Not at all," Mingyu avoids eye contact with you. "I've just been giving you your space you know, don't really wanna be the third wheel between my two closest friends. You know?"

You're embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about how you'd feel, I'm really sorry. I just got so excited and I-"

"It's fine," he assures you. "Really. I'm not upset or anything like that."

"Good," you smile. "But it's our time now. You don't have to worry about being the third wheel when it's just us."

Fuck, don't do that. Don't tell him what he wants to here. Get his hopes up even though he's overthinking your words. You don't mean it as anything more than friendly.

But why does his heart skip a beat? The pain has subsided and his heart is beating faster.

"You can do no wrong," he gives you a soft smile.

You respond with an even bigger smile before diving back into your book.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Mingyu struggles to sleep that night. He's tossing and turning like crazy. He needs to get you off of his mind. He really should just talk his feelings out, but you were the only person he could really do with that.

And you're not available for that anymore.

Mingyu finds himself slipping back into his old ways. His mom advised him to keep what he has, but it's not easy for him. He just needs a distraction, something temporary to help him avoid you.

He knows he shouldn't, but he tells him it's easier this way. He's been doing it for a while, and he was perfectly fine until you came back into his life. If he was able to breeze through the past few years like this, was it really going to hurt him to pick those habits back up again?

He grabs his phone, quickly typing up a message.

'hey you wanna hang out sometime soon?'

-i thought you'd never ask

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-taglist- @knucklesdeepmingi @marksflute @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @heidilolx @listxn @misssugarlips @lizzylovesboo @haogyuslut @taestrwbrry @everyw0nu @luvthatleader-nim @luveveryonewoo @jakecaffe @xeezi @wasteitonserendipity @whyokoa @shapeofgyu @fixonbreakoff @notscoupy @boo-juns @superheros-and-others @mingkis-world @thesmolishbean @bobohumyonlyboo @deekayownsme

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[chaoswithkaycee]

Hellfire and Honeysuckle, Chapter One

Synopsis: A new girl has moved to Hawkins after the events of the hospital attack, with her own story and her own secrets. She's passionate about many things - her education, baking, friendship, kindness - and ready to finally make friends after a lifetime of running from place to place.

Warnings: Discussion of domestic abuse, discussion of murder, trauma but very little angst discussion (for now), disability, pervert thoughts but no actions

Rating: Minors DNI, this fic will have smut in later parts.

Author’s Note: This fic is both an attempt at self-love (the character's image, accent, disability, and some history are very much based on my own) and the first work I've written in over a decade. It's also the first thing I've ever posted to a public forum. Please be nice. A big thank you, once more, to @thisishellfire and @writerwannabetree for creating stories with plus-sized characters, spurring me to create a story with a character like me.

Word Count: 4k-ish

Honey hated new schools - she always had. Her mother moved her around so often, she’d started to mix up the names of her classmates in other states and other cities. Was Ian in Colorado, or was he in North Dakota? Stacey, Stacey was in Virginia. Or was that California? She’d tried to stay in contact each time, but each time, she’d fallen through. Their numbers would get lost, the phone didn’t have long-distance ability, or her mom just didn’t let her call them. She couldn’t really blame her - Mom didn’t want Dad to find either one of them, after she’d fled with Honey from their tiny hometown in Texas one night when she was six years old. Honey remembered looking at her mother from the passenger seat, clutching the only thing she’d taken with them - a small stuffed elephant that Honey had named Lawrence. She remembered watching the tears pour down her mother’s face, lip busted and bleeding, the eye closest to Honey already swelling shut. 

Sometime the next morning, she’d woken up on the couch of a stranger’s home, listening to her mother in the next room sobbing to someone named “Lilah”. Over the next few days, she learned that Lilah had been her mother’s friend in high school, before she’d met Honey’s father. Lilah was a nurse, having moved to Georgia after graduation. She was the only person who picked up when Honey’s mother called at a payphone in Beaumont, and she became Honey’s favorite person. She wore colorful dresses and kept her hair long, pulled into a braid when she was working or cleaning. Her shelves were cluttered with knick-knacks, tchotchkes, and keepsakes, and she had books everywhere. Honey knew then, at six years old - she wanted to be like Lilah. Lilah helped Honey’s mother get cleaned up, procured clothes from the local church for both of them, kept both of them fed and comfortable, and helped her mom sell her car for a new one, one with new license plates. One her father wouldn’t know. She even helped her mom find a nursing program in another town. Less than a week after arriving in a small town outside the state capitol, Honey and her mother left in a beat up blue Oldsmobile, waving goodbye to a sniffling Lilah.

Honey didn’t remember where they’d gone after that - the cities and states and street names had started to melt together after the third or fourth move. Her mom would take them back to Lilah every year, where they’d all spend a week together in the summer. Lilah always had new toys and games for Honey, new dolls and new stuffies. Nothing replaced Lawrence, though. Lilah made sure he stayed in good condition, taught Honey how to mend tiny tears on his body and how to wash him without destroying him. She was also the one who noticed how easily Honey’s skin bruised, how often she complained of sharp pains that stole the feeling from her fingertips, how she favored heat on her joints at bedtime. When she was about thirteen, after a particularly bad stretch where she felt something not right happen in her shoulder, Lilah convinced her mother to go to the doctor with Honey. There, Lilah advocated with Honey’s mother and they walked out with a diagnosis - Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, a collagen disorder named at the turn of the century. Honey’s painful joints came from partial dislocations, her loss of sensation from nerve damage, her lack of menstruation from a secondary disorder caused by the first. For the next week, Lilah and Honey poured over medical journals and textbooks, learning everything about the multi-system disorder. Lilah walked them both through what Honey needed - stabilizing wraps and braces, mobility aids, pain management techniques - and even taught her how to customize them. Everything about Lilah radiated comfort, love, and acceptance. Every year, Honey swore she’d be like her. 

But this past summer, not long after they’d left, Honey’s dad found Lilah. From what her mother was able to share with her, it wasn’t pretty. The neighbors had called the cops when they heard the screams, but it had been too late. Her father was arrested, convicted, and imprisoned in less than a week; she and her mother were safe; but Lilah was dead. Her mother was called back to Georgia by Lilah’s lawyer, where Lilah’s will was read. Lilah had left most of her possessions to Honey and her mother - the knickknacks and keepsakes and the stacks of toys and games and books Lilah had bought for Honey were packed into boxes and stacked inside a moving van.

And that’s how she ended up here. Mom wanted a new start, one more move, and Hawkins Memorial Hospital needed new nurses after some kind of wild animal had killed nearly everyone there in July. It seemed Death had been busy in the summer of 1985. Now, her first day of her senior year, a week before her 18th birthday, Honey stood in front of yet another new school. Her mom promised this was the last move, they would stay in the cute little one story house with the yellow window shutters come Hell or high water - at least, that was what she’d promised. She told Honey this the night before her first day, hoping she’d make real friends this time. Hoping the sling her arm currently sat in wouldn’t hold her back. Hoping, Honey thought, that she wouldn’t hold herself back anymore. With one more sigh, she eyed her bicycle, wondering if she could get away with sneaking back home. Maybe mom was already asleep, since she worked the night shift, and she could sneak back in. But she knew better. Get it over with.

Honey pulled her bag up higher on her good shoulder, and walked into the school. It was decently sized, a little big considering the actual population of the town, but she took that as a sign that the school had good funding and maybe, God-willing, she’d get an actual education. Weaving between returning students and holding her sling close to her chest, she managed to squeeze into the front office. It was quieter here, quieter than the hallways at least. The thin, scratchy carpet muffled the sounds of her sneakers as she walked to the administrative desk, trying to keep her breath low and quiet. Standing at the rib-height desk, she cleared her throat. The woman behind the desk looked up at Honey behind her spectacles, a crumb from the breakfast sandwich she was eating still clinging to the pink lipstick she’d chosen that morning. “What can I help ya with, sweetpea?” She asked, a hint of the midwestern accent coloring her words.

“I, uh, I’m new. I’m supposed to start today. Transferrin’ from Pisgah, Alabama.” she stuttered out, hoisting her backpack and wincing when her bad shoulder was jostled. The woman, Deidre (according to her admin ID),  took a whistling breath in through her nose and shuffled through her paperwork, muttering to herself. Honey looked around at the drab office space, the inspirational posters and papers stapled everywhere. Each school was like the last, in this regard. This office looked no different than the ones in Alabama, in California, in New Hampshire, in Kentucky and Louisiana and Virginia and South Dakota and every other state she’d lived in. A high pitched “ahem” brought her attention back. 

“Here’s your paperwork sweetpea. This here is your schedule,” She pointed to the bright pink paper on top of the stack, then moved it off to the side. “Now, I’ll need your guardian to fill out this form,” she showed Honey one, setting it to the side, “This form,” she repeated the action, “And this form. If you’d like to join any of our athletics teams…” She trailed off, looking at Honey’s shoulder, then recovered her speech. “If you’d like to join any of our athletics teams, you’ll have to speak with the coaches. Here’s a list of all of our clubs and teams.” Honey nodded, gathering the papers in one hand as she scanned the list of clubs. One in particular caught her eye. “Ma’am?” she asked, as Deidre took a seat with a heavy exhale. “Hm?” Deidre huffed, raising an eyebrow at Honey’s muddled southern drawl. “This one here at the bottom. Hellfire Club. What is that?” Deidre’s lips tightened to a thin line. “Satanic hogwash, if you ask me,” She replied, taking another whistle-breath through her nose. “It’s that Dungeons and Dragons group. They meet on Fridays.” Honey thanked her once more, sliding her schedule on top of the pile and adjusting her backpack again, looking at the clock while pushing out of the door with her back. First bell would ring in a few minutes, and her first class was her favorite - English Literature.

The rest of the day, and week, passed in a blur. New teacher names, new classmate names, dress code rules, sign this form, where did her last teacher leave off, did she get the summer reading list, introduce herself to the class, blah blah blah, drone drone drone. She managed to avoid the cafeteria all week, opting to eat the home-packed lunch from her mother on a picnic table outside. Here and there, other students would do the same, sitting at the far end away from her, but she didn’t mind. She could listen to their conversations, pretend she was part of their group, without having to actually put effort into it. This way, she was able to find out more about the town, the students, the school, the clubs. She was able to decide what to give her attention to, and one club in particular stayed in her peripheral all week.

And so it was, Friday after school, she stood outside the room that the “Hellfire” Club was meant to meet in, half an hour early, dragging her backpack by the loop on top. She didn’t hear anything from inside - duh, why would she, she was early - and she tried to decide whether it would be better to wait by her bike outside for a more appropriate time, or whether she should just go inside and be there when everyone else showed up. She stood, rooted to the spot, chewing the inside of her cheek, staring straight ahead at the door. Back, and forth. Wait outside. Go inside. Wait outside. Go inside. She didn’t hear the footsteps on the other side of the door until it swung open. She found herself face to face with a red-faced demon, sharp horns level with her cheek bones.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie had been planning the new campaign for the start of the school year since he’d found out he was repeating three months ago, and he simply couldn’t wait anymore. Sure, he didn’t expect too many people to show up, and not for another half hour at that, but he wanted to have everything ready for those who did show. He’d skipped all week, but waited in his van on Friday to see students leaving. As soon as they did, he was making his way to the room designated for the club and setting up. He’d brought a stack of character packets - only ten, he didn’t expect any more than that - his copy of the players guide, his copy of the DM guide, and several sets of dice. His plan for today was just to introduce anyone who was new to the game, go over rules, get character sheets started, discuss some ground rules for etiquette - both in game and out. Satisfied that he’d set up the best he could, he decided to go ahead and prop the door open for whoever was coming, making it easier for them to find. He swung the door open, and stopped. There was a girl a foot from the door, and he couldn’t stop from staring.

She was short, her forehead level with his chest, with red-blonde curls pinned back on one side, and a smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. A round face with chubby cheeks and a slightly downturned nose, gray eyes, and a natural lift to her lips that made it look like she was wearing a secret smile. His eyes traveled further down, to the flowing black tank top she was wearing - he couldn’t blame her, it was fucking hot outside- and shorts so small and tight that he was surprised she hadn’t been dress-coded. He would venture a guess that it had something to do with the sling on her arm - nobody wanted to be the one who argued with a kid in a sling. 

He looked back up to that pretty face, those gray eyes trained on his own face, and realized he’d been staring for close to a full minute - which was probably coming off as pretty creepy. Seeking to amend this and make her feel a little more welcome, and hoping she actually intended to stay, he hunched his back and curled his fingers to imitate a gnarled old hag. Beckoning to her, he raised the pitch of his voice and added vibrato to cackle out “And what lost soul is this I find, wandering into my lair with no one to protect her?” He was rewarded for his effort with a smile that could have melted snow, the girl's two front teeth slightly crooked but something about it was endearing.

“I wanted to join. If there’s open membership, I mean. I just transferred from Alabama, but my old school didn’t have a Dungeons and Dragons club.” Her voice was low and melodic, and he raised his eyebrows at the southern drawl on her words - how “wanted to” had become “wanned ta”, how her “I” become an “Ah”, the way “didn’t” became “did-inn”, the way she dragged the A’s. He’d never been south of Franklin, but if this was what they sounded like below the Mason-Dixon line, he’d pack his bags tonight.

“Yeah, we have open membership as long as you’ve got an open mind. Come on in. You’re a little early, though. Couldn’t contain your excitement, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows and basked in her laugh. She turned to drop her backpack by the door, and he saw a better view of those shorts. The way they sat just under the curve of her ass, plastered to the smooth skin, just tight enough to make the skin beneath bulge out slightly. Oh, boy. He was in trouble.

“It’s the only thing I’ve looked forward to all week. Something new and different.” She said, looking back at him over her shoulder. He was quick to bring his eyes up, his tongue darting out to wet his lips before he gave her a dimpled smile. She adjusted her sling and he watched the way her breasts moved, jostled by the sling, before he noticed that she winced. Clearly, she was in pain, and here he was ogling her like a pervert. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Eddie.” Please, tell me your name is as beautiful as you, he thought as she looked at his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She took his hand in a very light shake, uncomfortable with touching a stranger. “You can call me Honey.” She watched his face, measuring his reaction. Most people immediately laughed at the name she’d chosen. “I’m sorry, did you say your name is Honey?” His voice teetered on a laugh and she tried not to be annoyed. “No, I said you could call me Honey. My mama calls me Honeysuckle, like the flower. It’s not my name, but I like it better.” She didn’t want to tell him that she still remembered her father bellowing her name through the house that night, that the reason her mom had been so badly beaten was because she’d shielded Honey’s six-year-old form as the beast she’d married had thundered toward the little girl. She never wanted to hear her name again. Honey, or Honeysuckle, would be just fine.

He seemed to mull her nickname over, mouthing it. Honeysuckle. Almost like he was tasting it, testing to see if it fit her. It sounded sweet, deceptively so, but the delicate nature of the name definitely fit the five foot tall frame in front of him. As he smirked and nodded, he repeated the name. “Honey. Well, welcome to Hellfire, Honey. Let’s get you a shirt.” No sooner had he turned around than she felt a rush of air - first behind her, then on her left side. she yelped as a body slammed into her shoulder. Throwing her good arm up to pull her injured arm closer to her, she turned her back to whoever had slammed into her. White pinpricks swam in her vision for a second as her blood roared in her ears. It only lasted for a few seconds, but when her vision cleared and her ears stopped roaring, she could hear a squeaky voice apologizing at the same time that Eddie was calling her name from a few steps away and asking if she was okay. It took another few seconds for her to catch her breath, for the painful twitches to fade enough for her to speak again.

She looked around behind her, still cradling the sling-arm. “I’m fine. Sorry. It’s just still a little tender and you managed to hit the wrong spot. It’s okay. I’m fine, I promise. It just twinged.” Her voice was still breathless, a little high pitched, but she tried to convey the confidence she needed to get them to move on. She didn’t want to explain being disabled so soon - people started acting differently every time, and she wanted just a little normalcy and typical teenage time before she had to become “an inspiration” again. A curly haired boy in a Weird Al shirt, a few inches taller than her, was holding his head with a look of embarrassment and guilt on his face. He must have been the one who hit her. She gave him another smile, swallowing down a second sharp wince. “Y’all must be joinin’ Hellfire too.” Her smile was tight, and she felt Eddie’s eyes following her as she walked around the table. She slid into one of the seats around the table, needing to sit before something else dislocated. The boys around the room followed her lead, even Eddie, coming to sit at the head of the table on her left side. This gave her injured arm space without someone else bumping it, and for that she was thankful.

“What happened to your shoulder? Ow!” The curly haired boy was rubbing his arm where Eddie had pinched him. “That’s rude,” Eddie hissed, but she gave a tight smile. The curly haired boy, who she’d later learn was named Dustin, was sitting across from her, adjusting his ball-cap. She noticed they were all looking at her, and her stomach started twisting. Luckily, she’d already planned an excuse before the school week even started. “Nothin’ major, I was walkin’ our dog - he’s a big, dumb boxer mix, so he’s heavy - and he caught scent of a squirrel or somethin’. He took off and the leash jerked my arm out of socket.” She saw one of the boys wince. “Oh, it’s okay! My mama’s a nurse, she got me fixed right up. It’s just a little tender and swollen still, but I should be able to get out of the sling by the end of next week.” She reassured them.

A wiry boy next to the curly haired ball-cap boy put his elbows on the table, sighing wistfully. “I wish my dad would let me have a dog. What’s your dog's name?”

Shit. She hadn’t thought of a name for a dog that didn't exist. Her mind flashed back to the purple and blue stuffed elephant on her bed at home. “Lawrence. My dog’s name is Lawrence.”

To end the conversation, she turned to Eddie, forcing all attention on him. There was a split second of silence before he began, starting by welcoming everyone, then passing out shirts - he seemed to have a whole range of sizes, maybe they’d ordered in bulk? - And then set them all to work creating character sheets. No campaign was going to be run tonight, he said, they were just all familiarizing themselves with each other and their characters. Before she knew it, the sun outside had dipped down and a janitor came by to give a ten minute warning to clear out. Somehow, she’d spent three hours here, laughing and finally feeling at home. Eddie had spent probably half of the time walking her through the different races and classes, and she was thankful for the crash course.

As she wrestled her backpack zipper open one-handed, she felt a presence on her left side, just out of eyesight. She tilted her head back to look behind her. Eddie. “Hey, Honey,” He seemed to enjoy saying her nickname, his lips pulling up in a toothy grin, “Do you need help?” He didn't wait for an answer. Eddie squatted down next to her, unzipping her backpack and putting the shirt and new character sheet inside before zipping it back for her. She reached over to pick it up, but he was faster. In one motion, he’d slung her bag over his shoulder and stood, holding his hand out to help her up too. She took it, letting go as quickly as she could. She still didn't want to touch him, he was still a stranger. “I can carry my bag.” She muttered, reaching for it again. “I’m sure you can.” He answered, twitching his shoulder back to keep it out of her reach as he led her outside. She followed, because what other choice did she have? 

“Okay, I’ll let you carry it to my bike but that’s it. I need it, my homework is in there.” She finally conceded, still cradling her arm. He stopped and whirled around, walking backwards to face her. “Wait, you’re riding a bike home? After dark? One handed?” His voice rose a pitch with every addition to his sentence. She just nodded, watching behind him to make sure he didn't walk into anything. He stopped, so she did. “Nope, nope, not happening. As metal as that is, I’m not allowing that. That’s not happening. I’m driving you home.” Now, she realized, his voice reminded her of the dirt road to Lilah’s house. There was something comforting about his statement, something that sounded like caring. She shook her head. “No, Eddie, I couldn’t let you. It’s already late, I’m sure you have somewhere to g-” He shushed her. She blinked, first in shock, then indignation. “Did you just shush me?” Her twang became more prominent with annoyance, stretching her “you” into “yew”, and he chuckled. “I did, Honey. I’m driving you home. Don't worry, I can fit your bike in the van. I don’t have anywhere to go, I can give you a ride home. I don’t want you trying to get home in the dark with one arm.” She opened her mouth to argue, but he raised a finger and spoke again. “Ah-ah, no arguing. Let’s go.”

Twenty minutes later, he was unloading her bike and backpack from the back of his van and rolling it inside the chain link fence surrounding her new home. Mom’s car was already gone, off to her night shift at the hospital. Good, she wouldn’t have to explain the boy who smelled like skunks and cigarettes to her. Finally, at her door, he looped her backpack over her good shoulder and patted her head. “Be good, Honey. I’ll see you at school.” And then he was gone, strutting back to his van as she fiddled with her key. She noticed, however, that he didn’t drive away until she was inside and had closed the door. Hawkins was starting to feel like home. She smiled, repeating his last words in her head. I’ll see you at school. She couldn’t wait for Monday.

[aileenmurphy]

Aileen wouldn't use the word interrogated, but the question regarding responsibility did make her swallow nervously. Did she like it? She'd never actually stopped to think about it. She always had been, and she hadn't felt terribly pressured by it, did that mean she did? "I... I have never actually thought about it." she verbalised her thoughts with a nervous laugh, before trying to difuse her self-imposed uncomfortableness. "I better like it, or going to work tomorrow is going to be very un-fun." she tried to brush it off, but she couldn't really say it fully left her mind. This man and his thought provoking questions. She wasn't used to being looked at so closely.

Glad for the change in atmostphere she joined in on the laugh about her mom, hands rubbing against her arms to rub away at the goosebumps from a sudden gust of air. He had a nice laugh. Huh? "I'll let her know she has found someone else she can instruct. She'll be glad for a change, too many girls, she says." she hoped the blush on her cheeks could be attributed to the joke rather than her wandering thoughts. Just a stranger on a walk, Aileen, get yourself together.

Time stood still for a second as he thanked her, and she felt the itch to brush the errant curls away from his forehead, but as soon as the moment started it ended, his eyes lowering. She toyed with the ends of her hair, shaking her head slightly. It took her a second to pick up on his joke, stuck up on her head as she was. "Mmm? Ah, well. Let us hope the only artists suffering are those within range of my kids, then." her answer was probably more honest than his joke warranted, but she didn't like the thought that any form of art demanded payment in suffering. That, however, was a too philosophical thought for the just a walk they were on, so Aileen just hoped her awkward smile would cover her and instead tuned in to his small summary of the last ten years of his life.

She knew it would be interesting, a lot more interesting that anything anyone could have gotten up to in Blue Harbor, but he spoke of it so nonchalantly, as if it was nothing. Her eyebrows went up as he mentioned multiple albums, a band, all stuff from movies you dream off, and didn't seem to think was worth excitement. That small, ugly side of her deflated with resignation, for if he didn't find that exciting, she wasn't sure how anything of what she had told him had had any value to him.

She wanted to ask what he meant with the last bit, however. It almost seemed as if he was trying to downplay what, to her, felt like a monumental shift, but as she was drawing breath to speak up, the fishing stall appeared, and she was cut short. "I guess this is your stop." she wasn't certain where the disappointment came from, but she was not paying attention to it. "Well, it was lovely to..." she trailed off as he fished out his phone from his pockets.

The back of her neck felt incredibly warm, and her eyes went comically huge. Oh. "Oh!" her voice must have gone up three octaves, consistent with her usual inability to play cool at any given situation. She wasn't sure how he could have qualified the evening as nice instead of lame for him, but he was asking for her number, so maybe she could trust that instead of her traitorous brain. "Ummm, yeah, yes! Of course." she gingerly offered to take his phone and then added her phone number to his contacts, trying to ignore the loud beating of her heart. She handed it back to him and hoped her smile was at the very least casual, even if the ruddiness in her cheeks betrayed her. "It was nice. Maybe next time we skip the me jumping three feet in the air like a spooked cat though." she hid a laugh behind her hair, mortification growing inside of her. Now he's gonna think you think he's scary, Aileen! She better retreat before her foot-in-mouth sindrome managed to weird him out. "See you around, Lincoln." she offered a final wave and warm smile and walked away, trying to ignore the butterflies in her chest.

@themissing-linc

THE END.

The combination of Aileen's voice and the cool breeze, lifting something sweet-smelling into his face, felt almost therapeutic to Linc. It wasn't often he got to do this-- ask questions, listen, relax. Not to anyone's discredit, Linc had just been pulling long hours at the radio station and otherwise hanging around Dad's bed. But he had an overwhelming sense that he could get used to this, whatever this meant.

Linc took note of that, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively. "Do you like being responsible?" He was sure she made for a pretty damn good teacher, but these were the things that weighed on a person-- unending responsibility and providing a shoulder to cry on. It could get lonely, he knew, but maybe not for Aileen. He laughed, eyes crinkling at the edges, "It sounds like I might need to call your mom about my laundry, too. She got a mailing list?" he teased, then swore, "Your secret's safe with me."

Aileen's response was... different than most. Linc knew, intimately, the position he was putting people in with the reveal that his father was sick. There were a finite amount of things to say-- I'm so sorry to hear that, stay strong, he's a fighter-- all of which only ever fell flat. He watched her face for a long moment, almost awestruck at her emotional intelligence. "Yeah... hey, thank you. I mean that," he managed, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep from doing something stupid.

Linc grinned at the mention of the recorders, mishievous gleam in his eye. "Hey, some very influential musicians got their start on those plastic recorders," he said, laughing. "We all have to suffer for art, right?"

He didn't know what he expected, but Aileen calling him a rockstar almost made Linc laugh. "Hardly that," he admitted, shrugging as they followed the path towards the market. "I went to school, got a degree in Sound Engineering," Linc shrugged. "Made an album, got the band back together, made another album." He hesitated over his next words, not at all wanting to seem ungrateful for everything he'd experienced. "I sort of... well, I'm not glad for everything happening, but I was starting to wonder if the whole thing was really for me."

Before he could gauge Aileen's response, they were approaching Finest Catch. Linc was disappointed to burst their bubble, but he turned to Aileen and dug his phone out of his pocket, which was still playing music into the earbuds, embarrassingly. "Would you-- could I get your number? Maybe we could do this again?" Linc asked, glancing at his phone to give her an easy out. "It's okay if... I mean, this was nice."

[viastro]

daisies | kim sunwoo

ミ★ synopsis: the best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. aka, in which sunwoo is in charge of making you fall in love with him, just to break your heart.

ミ★ genre: angst, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: mentions of vomit, slightly suggestive

ミ★ word count: 10,155

ミ★ pairings: sunwoo x female reader

ミ★ notes: this is dedicated to my other half, @sunlightwoo​ happy birthday gina, i’m so grateful god decided that i shouldn’t be lonely and have you be born three days after me. i know you’ll probably hate me for this oneshot, but i know daises was one of your favorites from me. i love you, my sunshine. no amount of words will ever express just how much you mean to me.

The music is loud against Sunwoo’s ears as he dances with a girl he doesn’t even know the name of, not that he wants to know her name. She turns around and wraps her arms around the back of his neck, giving him a smirk. “Enjoying the view?” 

Sunwoo grins, leaning in towards her ear to whisper, “Maybe.” 

The unknown girl giggles at the ticklish feeling from Sunwoo’s lips, only making his smile wider as he moves closer to ask,

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Sunu! Sunu, we have to go.” Sunwoo curses at the familiar voice, turning around to see Chanhee with a frantic expression on his face, and that’s when he knows it’s serious. “Is it Minji?”

“It’s Minji.” Sunwoo removes himself from the stranger’s arms without another word and follows after Chanhee. They hurry out of the club, the cold spring night air hitting them as they walk. Sunwoo stops for a moment, looking up at the stars as he wonders what could’ve happened. 

“Sunwoo! Come on!” The black haired beauty takes one last breath of the night air, before rushing over to Chanhee’s car.

“Minji, please calm down!” Sunwoo hears as soon as he and Chanhee enter Minji’s house. His eyes widen when he hears a loud crash from upstairs, and he sprints up the stairs fast as he can, bursting in through her bedroom door to see Minji crying while holding a flower vase in hand. Her mom turns to look at Sunwoo helplessly, and he nods his head at her.

“Minji, look at me.” Sunwoo says softly, and she keeps her eyes trained to the floor as she clutches the vase tightly. He takes a few steps closer as Chanhee walks in quietly behind him, choosing to stay back since he knows Sunwoo handles these situations better. “Minji.” 

It’s when she’s about to throw the vase that Sunwoo grabs her wrist to stop her, pulling her into a hug with his other arm. She freezes for a moment, before letting out a small sob into Sunwoo’s shoulder, closing her eyes as she takes in her best friend’s comforting scent. “It’s okay Minji, we’re here. Chanhee and I are here.” 

Chanhee finally walks over, resting his hand on Minji’s back as she cries. He takes a glance at Sunwoo to see him with a stoic expression on his face, eyebrows slightly furrowed as the sounds of Minji’s sobs get louder. 

who the fuck did this to her?

“I always knew Mark was a piece of shit. Can’t believe he’s already showing interest in another girl when you guys just broke up.” Sunwoo grumbles to himself as he places his water back down. The three of them are sitting on Minji’s floor, talking about what caused her breakdown. She lets out a small sigh, running a hand through her hair, “I should’ve listened to your protests from the start. He was too charming though.” 

“That’s how they get you. I mean, look at Sunwoo.” The person in question chokes on his drink, turning to look at his lavender haired best friend with a furrow to his brow.

“Why the fuck am I being brought into this?” 

“He’s a charming ass guy,” Chanhee continues, choosing to ignore Sunwoo. “That’s how he’s able to pull in any person he shows the slightest bit of interest in. Then when he gets what he wants, poof. He’s gone.” Sunwoo chuckles, not finding it in himself to deny Chanhee’s explanation.

Cause he’s right.

Minji’s eyebrows furrow once an idea comes to mind, and she stands up along with the plan forming in her head. Sunwoo and Chanhee look at her with confused expressions on their faces, and she flashes them a small smile. 

“The best type of revenge is to hurt the person that means the most to them. Correct?” The two guys nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this. 

“And Chanhee says that Sunu is a bit of a fuckboy, right?” Sunwoo rolls his eyes at the term, opening his mouth to argue and Minji flashes him a look. He sighs, nodding his head and leaning back onto the bed frame. 

“What if we have Sunwoo swoop in and take the girl Mark’s interested in, have her fall completely in love with our sweet, sweet Sunu. Then he breaks her heart when the task is completed, so not only will Mark feel sad for her, but he’ll feel guilty knowing this wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t move on so fast.” Minji says with a grin, looking at her two friends to see their reactions. Chanhee frowns immediately at the idea, while Sunwoo stares back at Minji with an open-mouthed smirk. 

“We haven’t done anything fun like this in a while, I think it’d be cool.” Minji claps her hands in glee at his response, about to start planning the whole thing when Chanhee intervenes. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I understand revenge on Mark, but why do we have to bring the girl into it? She didn’t do anything wrong to Minji.” 

“I don’t see why not. Don’t be a party pooper Chanhee, just help us plan it out mm?” Chanhee stares at his two best friends, obviously seeing that he won’t be able to get through to them. He lets out a sigh, raising up his hand as a way of saying well, get along with it. 

“Well what I know about this girl is that her name is yln yn. She’s a year younger than us and goes to the same uni. Apparently her and Mark were close when they were in high school, but lost contact when he moved.”

“So his first love basically.” Sunwoo states, and Minji nods at him. “Ding, ding, ding! You’re correct. She works at the flower shop down by that cat café near your guys’ apartment complex.”

“Sounds like you know a lot about her for someone who just got their heartbroken.” Minji slaps the back of Chanhee’s head and he lets out a small whine. Sunwoo chuckles as he watches Chanhee rub the back of his neck, glaring up at Minji.

“Have to know the enemy, don’t I?” She asks with a smirk. Sunwoo takes a sip of his water before turning towards Minji and asking, “So what’s the plan?” 

She bites her lip excitedly, walking over to grab her corkboard and sticky notes. Minji turns back around with a big smile. 

“Here’s what I was thinking…”

“I hope your wife enjoys the bouquet Mr.Lee!” He gives you a big smile, waving bye as he steps out of the shop. You let out a breath, feeling satisfied by another happy customer. Leaning back onto the counter, you grab your water bottle and take a sip, only to immediately choke and spit it back out into the bottle when the door chimes. 

“Hi! Welcome to-” The words die in your throat when you lay eyes on the man who walked in. His black hair is slightly curled over his forehead, plush lips in a small pout as he takes a look around the store. He’s wearing a white turtleneck with a beige overcoat, making it appear as if he just came out of a photoshoot. 

The infamous Kim Sunwoo, a senior at Seoul National University. He’s notorious for sweeping people off their feet in a matter of minutes, being both charming and handsome really works in his favor. You can’t deny that he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but you’ve heard the rumors.

don’t get pulled in. 

He runs a hand through his hair, flashing you a smile as he steps over to the counter.

oh jesus.

“Hi, I heard you guys make really pretty bouquets?” You nod your head silently, and he cocks his head to the side.

oh BITCH! You’re supposed to speak!

“I mean, I guess so! I’d say bouquets and flower crowns are our specialty.” Sunwoo lets out a small smile, finding you to be a lot cuter than he originally expected. “What’s the occasion?” 

Sunwoo takes a good look at you, analyzing your features as you look at him expectantly. He stares into your eyes, tilting his head when he sees how they sparkle back at him. He’s heard a lot about people holding stars in their eyes, but he never believed it.

Until now.

“Um, sir?” Sunwoo shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he snaps himself out of his daze. You look down at your hands, feeling shy at the fact that you just caught Sunwoo basically checking you out. He grins at your shyness, “It’s my friend’s birthday soon, I wanted to get her something nice.” 

“Okay, well here’s a photobook of our recent bouquets we’ve made, as well as the customer favorites. My favorite flowers are daisies, but I personally like bouquets with sunflowers because,” 

Sunwoo listens attentively as you explain the different bouquets, and the meaning of the flowers added to them. He watches the way your eyes sparkle even more when you talk about something you’re passionate about, even letting out giggles when you look up at him with a bright smile on your face. 

“Well, I suppose I’ll get the sunflower bouquet you recommended to me.” You nod your head, typing in the order into the computer. “Great decision.”

“What time will it be ready tomorrow?” Sunwoo asks, leaning forward onto the counter. You find yourself scooting backwards from the close proximity, choosing to look busy with the computer. “I can have it ready by 12 pm, if that works for you?” The pretty boy nods his head, grinning at your shyness.

this will be a piece of cake, Sunwoo thinks to himself.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. My name is Kim Sunwoo by the way.” You nod your head as you type in his name for the order. Glancing up from the computer screen you see him watching you with an amused expression on his face, and you raise an eyebrow. “Is there something on my face? Shit, it might be the sparkles from that ribbon...” 

Sunwoo giggles at you, shaking his head. “No, there’s nothing on your face, yn.” You raise an eyebrow again, and he smiles. “How do you know my name?” 

He points at your nametag, and you look down at your hands, letting out a small, ah. 

i… am stupid.

“Both silly and beautiful, a great combo.” Your eyes widen at the compliment, realizing you’re about to be one of the people that Sunwoo breaks and that’s when you snap out of it. Sunwoo’s smile drops slightly when he sees you look at him with a serious expression on your face, stark contrast to the shy smile you were sporting previously.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunwoo.” He nods his head slowly, giving you a smile before walking out of the shop. You let out a breath, leaning back onto the counter and closing your eyes.

not gonna fall for it.

“It’s been two weeks and you’re telling me she still hasn’t fallen for you yet?” Minji asks Sunwoo as they hangout by the bar. They watch Chanhee from across the club, seeing him giggling with a girl. Sunwoo takes a sip of soju, letting out a sigh as he remembers his failed attempts of asking you on a date.

“No one’s ever said no to me before, so that shit kinda hurt my ego.” Minji rolls her eyes, muttering about how you must either be blind or stupid, or both.

probably both.

“Maybe I should’ve made Chanhee do it.” Sunwoo flashes her a glare, turning away to look around the club. His thoughts keep going back to the first time you turned him down, and he chugs the rest of his soju. 

“Here’s the bouquet! I hope your friend likes them.” You tell Sunwoo with a smile, handing him the delicate yellow bouquet. He grins at the bright assortment, finding them a lot prettier than expected. He glances up at you, finding himself staring into your eyes once again as he says,

“She’ll love them, thank you.” You nod your head, typing into the computer that you’ve given the client the flowers. Sunwoo stands idle for a moment, and you look back at him, wondering why he hasn’t left yet.

“Is there something else-”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Your eyes widen, clearly taken aback by his request, before you chuckle, “No thank you.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at- wait.” You stare at him in amusement as he fumbles over his words. “Did you say no?” 

“I did.”

“Why?” 

“I know the type of guy you are, Sunwoo.” Sunwoo’s shocked expression turns into an amused smile, and you watch as he even lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. He leans onto his elbows on the counter, staring into your eyes, “And what may that be?”

You smile, and he waits for your response. You lean onto the counter as well, watching as Sunwoo swallows from the close distance between the two of you that you initiated.

“The one that makes any girl he wants melt into putty in his hands. Then when he gets what he wants, he leaves. I’m not going to fall for it, Kim Sunwoo.” He blinks at you in shock, and you give him a sweet smile, leaning back and taking a sip of water from your water bottle.

“Have a wonderful day.” Sunwoo snaps out of his state of surprise, and lets out a deep chuckle, looking at you with a challenge to his eye. 

“I’ll prove you wrong, pretty. I’ll see you around.” 

Sunwoo scowls at the memory, and Minji lets out a sigh when she turns her head to see the crease between his eyebrows. She reaches up and rubs the area with her thumb until the frown disappears, and she gives him a smile.

“Let’s dance, hm?” Not waiting for his answer, she grabs Sunwoo’s hand and brings him onto the dance floor. They sway with each other for a few minutes, with Sunwoo clearly still thinking of you as he blindly follows Minji’s lead. She squints at how unusual Sunwoo’s being, and pats the top of his head.

“She’ll come around Sunu, they always do. When she does, remember the plan.” Minji says in an attempt to reassure him, and he bites his lip, thoughts trailing back to your smile as he says,

“She’s not like them though.”

“Sunwoo, why are you here again?” You ask boredly as you spray the daisies at the front of the shop, not even sparing him a glance. He freezes, before holding out an unopened boba, and you finally turn your head to see him looking at anything but you. “I got you the classic pearl green milk tea, I wasn’t sure what your favorite flavor was so I decided to play it safe.” 

You stare for a moment, finding it sort of endearing that he’s too shy to even glance at you right now. Deciding to be nice, you reach out and take it, feeling warmth flood your face when he finally locks eyes with you. Sunwoo wipes his original surprised expression off his face, now smiling at the fact that you took the drink. 

It’s been three weeks since Sunwoo’s ordered those flowers, and he’s visited the shop every time you're on shift. He hasn’t even bought flowers since the day he ordered the bouquet, he just comes to talk to you and help out in the shop. He keeps trying to take you out on a date, but you never give him the time of day. Your own boss has fallen for him, nudging your hip and telling you to “say yes to the handsome man already!” You’ve never heard of Sunwoo trying so hard to get with someone, let alone drag it out for three weeks. So now you’re left wondering if he genuinely does like you?

“It’s my favorite flavor, thank you.” Sunwoo lets out a sigh of relief, and the corner of your lip quirks up. You cough into your shoulder, turning around to walk back into the shop after an awkward silence settles over the two of you. He reaches out and grasps your elbow softly to stop you, and you slowly turn your head to look back at him.

“Are you going to ask me if I can go out with you again?”

“…”

“You already know my answer, Sunwoo.” 

“Give me one night.” You don’t pull away, and he takes it as a sign to continue. “Let me take you out on one date, and I’ll let you decide whether I’m the type of guy you think I am. You can leave whenever you want, I just want one chance with you.” You stare into his eyes, finding truth to his words, and you let out a sigh.

“Okay.” Sunwoo tries to fight the smile emerging onto his face, resulting in his pretty lips quivering a bit. 

“Okay.”

“… Okay.”

“I’ll see you.” Sunwoo says, turning around and beginning to walk away. You immediately frown, “You’re not going to give me your number?!” 

“Check the boba!” He yells back, and you glance at the cup to see his number written on it, along with a message.

have a good day at work, yn <3

Biting your lip to stop the warmth from rushing to your cheeks, you turn your head to look at Sunwoo’s retreating figure. A smile breaks out on your face when you see him raise his hands in the air in victory, and you feel your heart warm.

“I guess he’s serious.”

“Hey, I’m here.” Sunwoo says into his phone, and he chuckles at the numerous curses you mutter as you slip on your shoes in a hurry. “I’ll be out in a sec!” 

Hanging up the phone, Sunwoo makes sure the passenger seat is clean. He grabs his water bottle, taking a sip as you step into the car. When he swallows the water, he opens his mouth to greet you, only to pause when he lays eyes on you.

Instead of the t-shirt, jeans, and apron he always sees you in at work, you’re wearing a pleated black skirt with a white dress shirt and an oversized argyle patterned vest over it. Feeling Sunwoo’s stare on your side-profile as you buckle in your seatbelt, you turn your head and lock eyes with him, and he snaps out of his daze.

“You, uh.” He coughs into his shoulder in an attempt to hide the blush rising up his cheeks, “You look pretty.” Sunwoo muttters, and you smile shyly. 

“Thanks, you look nice too.” He chuckles, pulling out of your driveway. “Just nice?” 

“Just nice Sunwoo, don’t push my kindness.” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you. He hands you his phone for you to aux, and you smile happily as you search up a Day6 song to play. Sunwoo sneaks glances at you, and you chuckle when you notice his eyes continuing to be trained on you through your peripheral vision.

“You’re gonna get us in an accident if you keep turning your head to look at me.” He sputters, and you laugh at his reaction. He takes one more look at you as you giggle, finding the sound of your laugh a lot cuter than he should. 

“Where are we going for our date?” You ask, and he shrugs. He takes a right at the stoplight before grinning at your question. “You’ll see.”

“Oooh, so it’s a surprise?” Sunwoo doesn’t respond, instead letting out a small hum to the tune of Day6’s new song. You smile, looking out the window to take in the view of Seoul at night for the remainder of the car ride.

“So, how was the date? It’s been like three weeks since we all last hung out like this. I need updates, Sunwoo, updates.” Minji asks as she flips the brisket on the grill. Chanhee takes a cooked piece, turning to look at his friend for his response. 

Sunwoo stares at the meat quietly, a small grin appearing on his lips as he remembers how your guys’ first date ended. 

“Can’t believe you fell while we were ice skating.” You giggle, and Sunwoo lets out a whine, patting his rather sore butt. He shoots you a playful glare, to which you stick your tongue out at him as he walks you to your door. 

“At least I know I was able to make you laugh that hard on our first date.” Sunwoo jokes, and you give him a small smile. You’re surprised that tonight was so fun, it truly exceeded your expectations. The surprise location was the ice skating rink, to which you were incredibly excited for.

Sunwoo brought you there in hopes that he could teach you how to skate, but little did he know, you already knew how to. It ended up becoming a competition between the two of who could do the most intricate tricks. You won though, because Sunwoo literally ate shit when he tried to do an axle. 

“So yn, what’s your final opinion of me after tonight? Am I the type of guy you originally thought I was?” Sunwoo asks once the two of you make it to your doorstep. You stare at him for a moment, taking in his handsome features. Tonight’s date was fun, and you learned a lot more about him than you ever thought you would. He’s charming, funny, kind, and lastly, you find him to be genuine. 

As you look at Sunwoo, you let out a small breath when you come up with your verdict, and he nervously awaits your response even though he hides it well. 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He repeats, and you give him a big smile as you open your front door. You slip off your shoes, and turn back to look at Sunwoo.

“Have to go on a second date to come up with my opinion.” You say, closing the door before he can ask more questions.

Sunwoo stands there for a moment, letting your words process in his brain. Once it finally hits him, he lets out a smile, clapping his hands in victory. Sunwoo pumps the air, stepping off your porch and heading towards his car with newfound confidence and excitement filling his veins. 

It’s been three weeks since then, and you and Sunwoo have gone on three more “official dates.” The other times the two of you have hung out are for some reason, not considered dates, and more of you guys just bonding. Whether it be helping each other with homework, Sunwoo coming to help you at the shop, or the two of you doing late night convenience store runs to eat ramen, there’s something going on between the both of you.

Chanhee is able to sense something different as he stares at his friend, knowing that this was going to happen. Minji notices as well, considering that Sunwoo still hasn’t answered her question. She frowns at him, reaching out and slapping his arm. He jumps back, startled as he looks at his two best friends.

“You don’t like yn… right?” Minji asks, to which Sunwoo stares at her as memories of you flood his mind when he tries to come up with an answer.

He remembers the way your whole face lights up when food gets placed in front of you, and how you just let your glasses fog up when the two of you eat ramen. He’s tried to take your glasses off when you eat the hot noodle dish, but you would slap his hand away each time, giving him a smile.

“My glasses are just having a sauna, leave them be.”

Minji tilts her head to the side, and that’s when Sunwoo cracks a small smile, looking up at her. “No, I don’t like yn.”

You lay on your bed, scrolling through Twitter to try and find some cursed emoji pictures when you hear your front door unlock. Sunwoo steps in with a bucket of fried chicken, taking off his shoes and slipping into the pair of slippers you left by the door. He places the food on your kitchen counter, before walking over to your room and peeking his head inside to see you laying on your bed, not even giving him a glance.

“You know, if it wasn’t me who entered your house and instead it was some crazy serial killer, you absolutely would’ve died.” Sunwoo says, announcing his presence. You finally look away from your phone, giving him a sarcastic laugh before going back to Twitter. He scoffs, walking into your room and snatching your phone out of your hands.

“Hey!” 

You open your mouth to argue, only for Sunwoo to interrupt by saying, “Come eat first, I brought chicken.” It promptly shuts you up, and you stand up off your bed, quickly following him into the kitchen.

You let out a squeal once you see the chicken, opening up the container and taking out a piece. You take a bite, and Sunwoo watches you with a knowing grin on his face. You squint your eyes at him, pointing at the chicken to get him to eat as well. He rolls his eyes, grabbing one and taking a bite. 

The two of you spend the next half hour finishing up the chicken. With Sunwoo threatening to throw a bone at you, and you sneaking the crispy pieces of his chicken whenever he’s not looking. Once you’re both done though, you sit down on your couch, still a bit of space between the two of you.

You and Sunwoo have been hanging out for a month and a half now, him even having the spare key to your place while you have his. Sometimes he just randomly comes over to do homework on your floor which scares your roommate to death sometimes, while you sneak over to his at night to steal some of his soju when you run out. Other times you both just watch movies together or play video games. You don’t know what you guys are as neither of you have made a move to make it official.

In all honesty, all the two of you have done to progress your relationship is accidentally brush your hands together. Sunwoo’s just waiting to see if your opinion of him has officially changed, while you’re waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend as you are too shy to ask him. 

“Yn.” You turn your head to look at Sunwoo, eyes glazing over his handsome features. His black hair that’s usually straight is resting in slight waves on his forehead, emphasizing the overall soft look that he has going on today. “Mm?”

“Have you come up with your final opinion?” Sunwoo asks, reaching out and tucking a stray piece of hair that fell over your nose behind your ear. When you look up into his eyes and he sees the sparkle in them, his hand freezes, staying rested on your cheek. 

Your eyes slowly trail down at his pink lips, heart rate increasing when his tongue darts out to lick them. Sunwoo stares at you, feeling the tension in the room rise as he watches your eyes move back up from his mouth. His thumb brushes against your cheek, beginning to hear his heartbeat in his ears by how nervous he is. 

“Yn.”

“Sunwoo.”

“Can I kiss you?” Sunwoo watches the way your eyes sparkle up at him, finding himself to be the luckiest man in the world to see you like this. You nod your head slowly, letting out a breath, “Yeah.” 

Without wasting another second, Sunwoo leans in close and tentatively presses his lips to yours. Your hand reaches up, entangling your fingers into his hair. He pulls away, just to capture your lips again after a second of staring, slowly leaning you back until you’re laying on the couch. 

i don’t like her. i don’t like yn. Sunwoo mutters in his brain like a mantra the more he kisses you. His hand lowers to your hip, squeezing it slightly when you tug on his hair again. He hears his heartbeat in his ears, tingles in his stomach when you slightly suck on his bottom lip.

i don’t like her. this is a game. this is for minji.

“Be my girlfriend?” Sunwoo whispers against your lips in between kisses, completely ignoring what the voices in his head are saying. You pull away, looking at him with wide eyes, but his gaze is focused on your pretty swollen lips. 

“Did you just?” He glances up into your eyes, and he lets out a small smile. A giggle comes out of you, and you raise a hand to your warm face. 

“Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend, Sunu.” Sunwoo bites his lip as a grin breaks out onto his face, before leaning back down and kissing you breathless again.

if i didn’t like her, then why do i feel like this? why do i wanna kiss her more, why do i only want to kiss her, why do i not want her kissing anyone else like this?

why does it feel like this isn’t just some game anymore?

“You’re crazy.” 

“Says the one who tried to duct tape their friend to the wall once.”

“Okay, in my defense,” You stare at Sunwoo from across the table, giving him an amused smile as you wait for him to continue. “Chanhee let me duct tape him to the wall. It was a joint effort, yn.” 

You roll your eyes, reaching out and hitting his shoulder lightly, before taking a sip of your boba. Sunwoo smiles at the sparkle in your eyes, taking note that the sunlight hitting your skin is as beautiful as the cherry blossoms blooming in the spring. 

 It’s been two months since you and Sunwoo have called it official, three and a half months since the day you guys met, and the two of you have become the talk of your guys’ university. Everyone who knows Sunwoo as the guy who never settles, has finally settled. You’re in the limelight as well, girls either being envious or worried for you, and guys nodding their head in approval at Sunwoo’s decision. 

“You’re really pretty like this.” Your eyes widen in surprise at the sudden compliment, beginning to feel shy by Sunwoo’s stare. You look down at your boba, small smile taking over your features. “Like what?”

“Happy. You look pretty when you’re happy.” Sunwoo mutters softly, eyes holding an emotion that is indecipherable to you. 

But it’s easy to read for Chanhee as he stares at the two of you from across the cafe. He shakes his head in disappointment, knowing that Sunwoo’s going to have to tell you the truth one day. Chanhee watches as Sunwoo reaches out and rests his hand over yours, a happy smile forming on his face when you make a joke. 

i haven’t seen him this happy with another girl in a long time, Chanhee thinks to himself, taking one last sip of his boba. He walks over to the front doors, throwing his cup in the trash. He takes one more glance at the two of you, now finding you excitedly telling Sunwoo a story of who knows what while the latter just stares at you with a fond smile on his face. 

All Chanhee knows is that you’re happy, and Sunwoo’s happy, but it’s going to be taken away as soon as you find out the truth. 

“Sunwoo, when are you going to end things with yn? It’s been over three months since you two became ‘official’, I’m pretty sure she’s already head over heels for you.” Minji asks from her couch. She blows on her newly painted nails, making sure they dry properly. Chanhee shoots the striped ball into the pocket, taking note of the way Sunwoo visibly stiffens after the question is asked. 

“She’s not head over heels.” Sunwoo answers, nodding his head once Chanhee misses the next striped ball. He leans down, getting ready to hit a solid. “Are you sure that’s it? Or have you forgotten our fucking plan?” 

Sunwoo pauses, turning his head to look at Minji, only to find her glaring at him. Chanhee lets out a small sigh, pulling out his phone to try and distract himself as the tension in the room rises. Sunwoo rolls his eyes, turning back towards the pool table. 

“You’re supposed to make yn fall in love with you and then break her heart so that Mark feels horrible. Did you forget that because you think she’s some good fuck?” Sunwoo slams the pool stick down on the table, actively startling Minji and Chanhee. 

“You know that yn hasn’t even mentioned Mark since I first started talking to her? He hasn’t tried to see her either, you know that? It makes me wonder why you even decided to target yn in the first place.” Sunwoo says, turning his head to see Minji’s reaction. He watches as her demeanor shifts slightly, suddenly appearing to look guilty, and he squints at her. Sunwoo pushes off the pool table and walks over to Minji so that he’s standing a few feet from her.

“And don’t you ever degrade yn to just being a good fuck again.” Minji blinks up at Sunwoo, not used to having his anger directed towards her. Her initial shock shortly turns into rage. Laughing, she stands up off the couch to stand her ground. “What a joke, you fucking fell for her didn’t you?” 

Sunwoo turns away, clenching his fists as he stares out Minji’s window. Chanhee watches from the pool table, feeling wracked by nerves as he watches his two best friends argue for the first time ever. 

“Kim Sunwoo, the man at Seoul National University who was unattainable. The one who was called cold hearted because he’d break the hearts of people left and right, has developed feelings for the pawn in our game.” Minji sneers, now staring at Sunwoo with an amused look on her face. He finally turns and stares directly down into Minji’s eyes, feeling anger flood through him. 

“And what about it?” Minji’s mouth drops open slightly, having not expected him to confess. Chanhee stares between the two of them, afraid of the tension rising in the room. “W-What?”

“I’m in love with yn. She’s witty, intelligent, funny, kind, beautiful; if you made a list of all the good traits in the ideal person then that’s yn’s description. I’m not going to play her like that, she’s no longer just a game. And I’m not going to be a pawn in your revenge plot anymore either.” Sunwoo states, before turning around to go and grab his phone. Minji reaches out and grabs his arm, but he doesn’t look back.

“You think she’s going to forgive you when she finds out?” 

The room stays silent for a moment, and Minji thinks she’s won from the way Sunwoo’s staring at the floor. Her heartbeat picks up when Sunwoo rips his arm from her grasp, turning to glance at her. 

“No, and I hope she won’t ever forgive me when she finds out. Yn deserves someone better than me. Someone who won’t blindly follow their friend and purposefully hurt a girl who didn’t do anything to be involved in this.” Sunwoo states, and Chanhee bites the inside of his cheek, looking down at the floor.

“I’m a horrible, selfish person for what I have done to yn, but I’m going to do at least one thing right and tell yn the truth, myself.” Sunwoo explains, before turning and walking towards the door, raising his hand up to grab the door handle.

“If you walk out that door, we’re no longer friends Sunwoo.” Minji threatens in one last weak attempt to get Sunwoo to stay, feeling afraid that she’s about to lose him. That she no longer has the control she once had over her best friend. 

Sunwoo stills for a moment, before grabbing the door handle and ripping the door open, shutting it directly behind him. The slam of the door echoes through the room, a sense of finality settling itself upon Minji and Chanhee.

“Fuck.” 

You hum quietly as you tend to the orchids, finding the blue ones to be incredibly pretty on this sunny day. The sound of the door chime rings throughout the shop, and you turn your head to greet the incoming customer. 

“Hi! Welcome to Bloom Bloo-”

“Yn?” Your eyes widen when you recognize your old friend, immediately breaking out into a smile as you stand up at your full height to wave at him.

“Mark! What are you doing here?” You ask as you walk over towards him, and he gives you a grin as he opens his arms and pulls you into his embrace. Your eyes widen slightly at the skinship, having briefly forgotten how Mark shows his love as you tentatively wrap your arms around him, patting his back. 

“I came to order a burger and fries, actually.” Mark answers when he pulls away, and you squint at the man, pushing him with your hand as you walk over to the register, listening to him laugh that contagious laugh of his from behind you. 

“Haha, so funny.” You say, trying to fight back the smile that’s threatening to break out onto your face. Mark catches it though, and giggles to himself. “Based on the smile you’re fighting, I can see that you hold some truth behind that statement.” 

You shake your head, turning back towards your friend and getting a good look at him. His brown hair is parted to the side, showing off his forehead and nice eyebrows. He’s wearing a brown hoodie with a black puffer jacket over it, and you purse your lips, wondering why it seems like he put in a bit more effort into his appearance. 

“Are you checking me out, yn?” Mark asks with a teasing grin, and you roll your eyes. You open your mouth to respond, only to pause when you hear a familiar voice ring through the shop. 

“You better be talking about a bouquet of flowers.” You and Mark look towards the entrance to see Sunwoo standing there, frown on his face. He squints when he locks eyes with Mark, and the brunette raises an eyebrow when he recognizes the man. 

“Sunwoo?”

“Sunu, with how much you come into the shop, you should just apply for a job here.” You joke, watching as Sunwoo’s features immediately soften slightly when he looks over at you. He lets out a small smile, shaking his head at you. 

“I wouldn’t be able to bring in as many customers as you, anyways.” Sunwoo tells you, walking over and patting your head over the counter. 

You grin, grabbing one of the daisy flower crowns you made in the morning and placing it over Sunwoo’s head. Mark glances between the two of you, and he finds himself squinting at Sunwoo when he remembers his reputation on campus.

“You two are dating?” Mark asks, and you nod your head. 

“For a bit over four months now.” Sunwoo adds, feeling his heart thump against his chest as Mark stares at him with a hint of suspicion in his gaze. The brunette simply turns back towards you, and gives you a smile.

“I’m happy for you, yn. You’ve been single for as long as I can remem-” Mark sputters when you spray him with the spray bottle full of water, and Sunwoo bites back the laugh that almost escapes him. Mark wipes his eyes and shoots you a glare, making you giggle a bit. 

“Yn! I have a date in an hour, don’t ruin my hair.” Mark whines, and you laugh, “Then don’t boast about how lonely I was!” 

A frown forms on Sunwoo’s face as he watches you and Mark begin to discuss the numerous bouquet options he can choose from for his upcoming date. The memory of Minji saying that you were the one Mark was showing interest in plays in his mind, and he bites the inside of his cheek, wondering if that was ever even true.

“Take care of those, I made that bouquet this morning!” You say, breaking Sunwoo out of his thoughts as Mark carefully takes the arrangement of flowers from your grasp. He nods his head, “Careful is my middle name.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun on your date!” You tell Mark, and he smiles, nodding his head. It comes to Sunwoo’s surprise when Mark turns to him, gesturing towards the door.

“Can you get the door for me, man?” Sunwoo nods his head, walking over and pushing open the door for him. The brunette smiles, walking through the door, but stopping to quietly mutter,

“I know how your trio used to do things in high school, and I know that Minji was upset when I ended things. I only broke up with her because I learned of the type of people you guys are. This better not be one of your trio’s games, because yn doesn’t deserve that. And if it is, then end it now.” 

Sunwoo stands frozen as Mark gives him one more smile and sends a wave towards you, before walking out the door. You tilt your head at your boyfriend, wondering why he looks so guilty as he stares down at the ground.

“Sunwoo? Are you okay?” You ask, seemingly breaking him out of his daze. Sunwoo looks back towards you, giving you a smile as he walks over. “Did Mark say something? He’s always been protective, even when we were younger.” 

Sunwoo shakes his head at you, reaching out across the counter and taking ahold of your hand. You raise an eyebrow, watching as Sunwoo cups your hand within both of his. 

“What’s on your mind, Sunu?” 

“Are you free tomorrow?” Sunwoo asks instead, and you stare at him in silence for a moment. You let out a small giggle, shaking your head and reaching out with your free hand, patting the top of his head, the delicate petal of one of the daisies brushing against your wrist.

“Were you nervous about asking me on a date? That’s so cute, but yes. I should be free tomorrow.” Sunwoo gives you a smile, and you find that it doesn’t really reach his eyes as he stares at you. 

“Great. I’ll meet you at the bus stop tomorrow, okay?” Sunwoo asks, and you nod your head, warmth flooding your face as you stare at your boyfriend. Sunwoo bites the inside of his cheek from the stars in your eyes, wondering how he’ll ever be able to tell you the truth. He lets go of your hand after pressing a soft kiss to the back of it, turning and walking towards the doors, but stopping to glance back at you.

“See you, pretty.” Sunwoo tells you, and you smile at the nickname. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sunwoo!” He grins, pushing open the glass doors and walking out of the shop. 

The smile on his face falls once he’s far from the flower shop, and he takes a deep inhale of the Summer air, the daisy flower crown that’s resting over his head suddenly feeling heavy. He finds that it resembles the weight of his heart as he knows that everything’s about to be broken.

one day. i just want to spend one last day with yn.

You sit on the bench by the bus stop, waiting for Sunwoo to arrive so that the two of you can go to the aquarium. You unlock your phone to see if there’s a new message from him, only to see no new notifications. 

“I know the feeling.” You jump up, turning towards the sudden voice to find a pretty girl standing beside you. Her brown hair falls in waves down her shoulders, and she’s wearing an off the shoulder floral top paired with a beige skirt. You tilt your head to the side, finding her rather familiar.

“Hi yn, I’m Minji. Sunwoo’s friend.” She introduces, and you have to stop yourself from letting out an ohhh because now you recognize her. “Oh, hi Minji.” You reach out and shake her hand, giving her a smile. 

“Are you waiting for the bus?” You ask, and she shakes her head, letting out a small laugh. “I drove. In all honesty, I came to pick you up.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, having no clue as to where you’d even go since you haven’t met Minji before. She gives you a smile, “Sunwoo told me to come get you because he’s running a bit late due to Chanhee being silly, per usual. He said he’ll come pick you up at my house.” 

“He did?” 

“You don’t believe me?” You immediately raise your hands up to tell her you didn’t mean to imply that she’s a liar, but Minji stops you right away while giggling at your antics. “I was kidding yn, don’t worry. Now, do you want to come hangout at my house or do you want to wait here by the bus stop?” 

You stare at her for a moment, before letting out a small smile. “I think there’s an obvious answer in that question.” 

“Wow! Your house is so nice.” You state as you stare in awe at all the beautiful artworks put on display. Minji waves her hand at you, telling you not to flatter her so much. You follow her up to her room, still looking around with child-like fascination.

damn, this almost makes me feel bad. she’s kinda sweet. Minji thinks to herself as the two of you finally make it up to her room. She places her bag down by her bed, removing the earrings from her ears. You stand shyly by the door, unsure of where to sit, or if you’re even allowed to sit. Minji turns towards you with a grin on her face. 

“You can sit over there, yn.” She tells you, pointing over towards the small couch in the corner by her desk. You nod, walking over to go and sit down, only to pause once you see a corkboard laying over the wooden surface. 

“I’m going to use the restroom, be right back.” Minji announces, a smile on her face when she sees you staring at the board. She walks out of the room, pulling her phone out of her pocket to call Sunwoo. 

“What?” Sunwoo answers as he heads towards the bus stop where you’re waiting. He lets out a soft smile down at the lavender daisies he bought on his way, planning to surprise you with them since they’re your favorite flower. He remembers the small box in his room, a gift he plans to give you after you guys get back from the aquarium. “Just wanted to let you know that you should probably turn around and head over to my house.” 

Your hand slowly lifts up the board, tears filling your eyes. 

“Why?” Sunwoo pauses when he doesn’t see you sitting at the bench the two of you agreed to meet at. He lowers the flowers once he realizes what Minji means, cursing to himself before turning around and beginning to sprint. 

“Have a nice run.” Minji says cheerfully, hanging up the phone and placing it onto the bathroom counter. She smiles, walking into the bathroom to splash water onto her face in an attempt to wash away the small feeling of regret.

You stare at the photos of you taken from your social media, gaze following the red line that lands on different notes with the names of the places you work and hangout at. Your heart shatters as you read the instructions on what to do when Sunwoo meets each new step with you. Your eyes land on the very last note, and it takes everything in you to not crumple onto the floor.

break her heart.

The feeling of wanting to vomit builds up in your throat, the realization that you were just a pawn in their sick game slamming into you like a train. That you fucking fell for it, you fell for him. You drop the board, stepping away from it as if it’s cursed. You quickly leave the room, dashing down the steps and running out the door. Minji watches from upstairs, letting out a sigh once you slam the door shut. 

The tears blur your vision as you run off her property, trying to get as far away as you can. You slam straight into a hard chest, stumbling backwards that their hands have to reach out and grasp your arms so that you don’t fall. You wipe away your tears with the back of your hands, opening your mouth to apologize, only to stop when you realize who helped you.

Sunwoo stares back at you, sweat dripping down his face from running, purple daisies on the ground beside him, now missing multiple petals. You rip your arms out of his grasp, feeling a sob bubble up in your chest as the two of you stare at each other in silence. 

“Yn, I-”

“Don’t. Just. Stay away from me.” You state, attempting to walk around him, only for him to stop you. 

“Yn, please. Let me explain. I can tell you everything, please just-”

“Explain what? That you used me for your revenge plot? That you strung me along for months when I had nothing to do with what happened between Mark and Minji? That you just think of me as some fucking joke?” Sunwoo shakes his head, grasping your arms to try and plead with you. The sob finally breaks out, and you reach up to cover your face. “God, no. Yn, you’re not a joke. You could never be a joke. I never meant for it to get this far. It was all a plan at first but then I got to know you and I fell in l-”

“S-Save it. I don’t want to hear anymore lies.” You mutter, and Sunwoo’s eyes begin to water when you remove his hands from your arms. You stare at him, tears continuing to fall from your eyes as you do so, wondering how you let this happen.

how you let yourself fall for him.

“I-I just wanted one more day. One more day with you, and I was going to tell you everything.” Sunwoo chokes out, hands shaking by his sides as he waits for a response. After a moment of silence, he tentatively reaches up to try and rest his hand on your cheek, “Please, yn. Let me explain-”

“How come I have to get punished just because I love you?”

Sunwoo pauses, staring into your pained eyes as his hand slowly lowers back down to his side. The sparkle that he was so used to, now replaced with the glassiness from your tears. You wipe away the wetness on your cheeks, realizing you confessed that you love him for the first time.

How unfortunate. 

With that, you turn around and walk away from him, not looking back. Sunwoo watches your figure shrink until you’re out of sight, and he drops to his knees, tears finally streaming down his face. He rests his face onto his arm, crying loudly as his heart completely shatters from what he ruined. While Minji watches from her gate, gulping down the feeling of guilt as she stares at her best friend experiencing heartbreak for the first time.

“I hope you’re eating well and taking care of yourself. I-” Sunwoo says into the phone as he stares up at his ceiling. Chanhee stares at him from his doorway, feeling sad for his best friend. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Sunwoo mutters, ending the call before the voicemail can catch the sound of him crying. He places his phone beside him, covering his face with his hands to try and muffle his sobs. 

It’s been three weeks since you found out the truth, and Sunwoo’s been calling you everyday since then. He’s refused to leave his room unless it’s to use the restroom or grab food. Other than that, he rots in his bed all day, the feeling of regret and resentment towards himself flooding his veins. 

That and soju, lots of soju.

“Sunu, do you want me to bring in the dinner I made?” Chanhee asks, and Sunwoo doesn’t answer, turning over in bed and covering his face with a pillow instead. “You need to eat.” 

Sunwoo just curls up even more, closing his eyes as more tears escape. Chanhee lets out a small sigh, walking out to go and grab the food anyways. He lifts up the tray, carefully stepping back into Sunwoo’s room and placing it on his desk. 

“It’s there if you need it.” Chanhee says softly, before closing the door. 

While you, you’ve also been laying in bed for the past three weeks. Currently you’re listening to the last voicemail Sunwoo left you, crying as you hear his voice shake towards the end when he apologizes. You turn over, clutching your pillow tightly against your chest as you sob. Your roommate looks at your closed door, concern written all over their features as they hear your loud cries. 

You haven’t been to work as you called in sick. Your manager understands, having heard from your roommate that you’re not in the best mental state. All you’ve done is eat, sleep, and sit in the shower for hours at a time, just letting the water run over you. 

While Sunwoo has hurt you deeply, you can’t help but miss him. You yearn to hear out his side, try and be understanding, try again, but then you remind yourself that you were just a game.

just a game.

“Hi, is yn home?” Your roommate points towards your room. “Be careful though, she hasn’t really left her room for the past month.” 

Chanhee gives her an understanding nod, knowing that Sunwoo’s doing the same thing. He slips off his shoes, before walking over to your door and knocking softly on the surface. You turn your head, muttering for them to come in, expecting your roommate. Your eyes widen when the door opens and you recognize Chanhee, Sunwoo’s best friend. You sit up, clutching the pillow tightly.

“What are you doing here?” Chanhee tentatively reaches his hands out, handing you a bag. You raise an eyebrow, taking it from him and looking inside. You let out a breath when you see a jewelry box. You lift it out of the bag, slowly opening it and biting back another sob when you lay eyes on the necklace.

“He was going to give it to you the day you guys were supposed to go to the aquarium, as a way to tell you he loves you, and that he’s sorry.” Chanhee explains, and you stare at the way the light reflects against the daisy pendant of the necklace. 

“I know you might not want to hear this at all, but I’ve never seen Sunwoo pine after someone, let alone fall in love with one. Yet, I saw both of those things happen with you.” You slowly look up at Chanhee, who’s giving you a small, hopeful smile. “I know what he did was shitty, I tried to stop them from including you in the plan in general. I just, I’ve seen how you’ve changed him for the better. I know Sunwoo, and I know that he really regrets what he did. He wouldn’t be calling and texting you everyday if he didn’t. He doesn’t even text me, honestly.” 

You look at the necklace, feeling sad, but somehow a bit better, more reassured. You glance back up at Chanhee, giving him a nod. “Thank you Chanhee.” 

He gives you a smile, “Of course. Anything for your guys’ happiness.” 

It’s been a month and a half since everything happened, and you’re finally leaving your room. It’s not much in your eyes, but your roommate was ecstatic about it, even though it’s just a trip to the convenience store. It’s also quite literally two am, but they said, any outside air is good air! You trudge over in your grey sweats and oversized black sweater, lifting up your glasses to rub your eye with the back of your hand. 

Once you’re at the convenience store, you head straight towards the ramyun, grabbing the eight pack and walking out of the aisle. You step over to the register, pulling out your card to pay for it. The chime of the door opening grabs your attention, and you tiredly look up, only to freeze when you lock eyes with Sunwoo.

He doesn’t look any better, bags prominent under his eyes, black t-shirt hanging loosely on his shoulders. However, you still see him as the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen. Shock is evident on his features as he stares at you, unsure of what to do. Sunwoo’s eyes trail down when something flickers at him, seeing the daisy pendant glimmer back at him from the light. He opens his mouth to say something, only for you to turn back towards the cashier once they hand you the bag of ramyun and your receipt. 

Sunwoo clenches his fist, walking over towards the aisle where the soju is. You let out a shaky sigh, turning your head to look at his retreating figure, debating on following after him. After a moment, you shake your head, choosing to walk out of the store sadly. 

Sunwoo stares at the box of soju for a moment after hearing the bells, signaling you left the store. He bites the inside of his cheek, having an internal battle with himself.

What if she doesn’t even wanna talk to me? She hasn’t answered my calls or texts for the last month and a half, that means she hates me. 

I have no chance, she’ll never forgive me. 

She shouldn’t forgive me for what I did.

I miss her.

Fuck. 

Sunwoo immediately turns around and runs towards the door, forcefully shoving it open and feeling the cool night air hit him. He’s about to rush in the direction of your house, but immediately stops when he sees you waiting right there, sitting on the steps, your bag of ramyun placed beside you. You slowly turn your head, looking up at Sunwoo. 

“Yn.” 

“Sunwoo.” 

The two of you stare in silence again, and you break it by patting the empty space beside you. 

“I don’t think anyone will come to the shop in awhile, it’s literally two am.” You say, and Sunwoo lets out a breathless chuckle. He takes another step before sitting down beside you, and that’s when you both fall into another silence. Except this time it’s more comforting, being with each other after yearning for so long but knowing it was best to stay away.

“You look like shit.” You state, effectively breaking the silence, and Sunwoo glances at you, a grin gracing his features. He turns away, shaking his head and looking up towards the stars. “I know.” 

You follow suit, staring up at the stars as well. A small smile appears on your face after a moment, and you turn your head to look at Sunwoo, only to realize he’s already staring at you. He lets out a content sigh, finding the stars slowly making their way back into your eyes. You turn away once you feel the warmth rush up to your cheeks, choosing to look at the parked car in front of the two of you. He looks back up towards the stars, trying to find which one shines the brightest.

Sunwoo comes to the conclusion that you shine brighter than the billions of stars in the sky as he does so.

“I’m sorry.” Sunwoo says after a moment, the sound of resentment present in his voice, and you let out a breath. 

“I know.” 

The two of you sit in silence, staring at your surroundings. A tear slips past your eye, and you wipe it away with your sweater paw. You wrap your arms around your knees, hugging them close to your chest as you stare at the empty road.

“I missed you, Sunwoo.” Sunwoo harshly bites the inside of his cheek, tears falling past his eyes as he continues to stare up at the night sky. 

“I missed you too, yn.” 

You let out a shaky breath after a moment, before leaning over and resting your head on Sunwoo’s shoulder. He freezes slightly at the contact, but relaxes. After a moment, he lays his head over yours, and that’s when you both know you’ll be okay. 

we’ll be okay. 

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Headlights Girl

Genre: Urban fantasy + wlw romance

Words: approx. 8k

Summary: The story of a girl with headlamps for eyes and the moth-girl she meets along the way.

My book 🌸 Ko-fi  🌸 Patreon

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Most humans carry the night with them. Even during daylight hours, they can shut out the sun, turn off the light, recede into themselves and into that soft secret place behind their eyes.

Did you know certain animals don’t have eyelids? Gecko’s have nothing between them and the violent sun which wishes to cook the colors of their world. They have to use their tongue. Dust and sand and rain, can you imagine? I was obsessed with lizards as a kid.

I stacked up books on snakes and lizards and skinks. I traced the way that sand snakes crested across the dunes, sideways and wrong. I put glue on the pads of my hand and tried to climb the walls of my room— I didn’t even get one handhold up. I went to the zoo and peered into their cages, up on my tiptoes, trying not to smudge the glass or breath too hard. I tried make out their triangle heads and slow tongue-flicks, but they each shrank away deep into nooks and crannies of their cages. Most things do when I look at them.

Most humans carry the night with them, right there behind their eyelids is an entire world of darkness. I have something else inside me, not quite, not soft, not secret. They called me “headlights girl” in the newspapers.

There were even stranger kids born in the Age of Spirits. I checked. Every morning of fifth grade, I scanned the papers for mentions of “oddities” growing into anomalies.

A boy who could breath fire. A girl with leaves sprouting from her head. A kid with antennae that could taste the wind. There are stranger things than me in the age of beasts and magic. My father called it the “Epoch of Bastards,” sons and daughters of flickering fire elementals and wind ghosts who seduced half-asleep ladies from their beds.

He didn’t look at me much growing up. And I knew what he meant. I knew what he was getting at by calling it the Epoch of Bastards. Growing up, I played in my little puddle of carpet on the floor as he blustered in and out of rooms like gale force winds. He’d be looking for his keys or a left shoe or wallet since he was going out, out, out. I think I missed him at first, in the way you miss strangers you’ve never met.

Later, still on my puddle of carpet, still on my island, I would glare at him with that sour, acid taste in the back of my throat. Acrid, smoky, I would barely blink as he passed; he’d jump when he turned too quickly and accidentally fell into my path. Later still, I would begin to wish they were both like that—blustery and calling people names, gone more often than not.

It sometimes felt better than hearing my mom weep to herself on the couch. I wish she’d do it in her room or outside or anywhere else than that theatrical sobbing in the middle of the house, a naked heartbeat to the place. She spoke to her friends on the phone in that same watery voice, handkerchief in hand and sniffling, she spoke to them more than me.

What else am I supposed to do? This isn’t how it was supposed to be. She’d wail, just a bit, and then find a new thing to wail over. They could barely afford to send me to That School. They could barely afford the special doctor’s appointments for my eyes. They barely knew what to do with me.

Sometimes, I wanted to shout right back: It’s not like I didn’t want to be here either!

But she wasn’t talking to me. 

School wasn’t much better. We weren’t the same, not really. None of us were the same age or had the same affliction. Plus, most everyone else stayed in dorms where they bonded with secrets and whispers and hiding from matrons. It wasn’t the same.

They called me The Lighthouse and Car Face and Nightlight. Sometimes they’d give me a few bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face. I did it. They’d laugh and reassure me I was as ugly as you’d think. Or beautiful. Or perfectly average-looking or I had a pig-nose or unibrow. I’d never seen anything but the blinding light of my own eyes in the mirror so I could never contradict them.

A boy with antlers handed me a twenty for a kiss in the 6th grade. I closed my eyes for that too. It was chapped and dry and he ran away with a screaming laugh afterward. There are stranger kids than me, I reminded myself. So why do I feel so much stranger than the rest of them?

I was 16 when I heel-toed my way down the stairs toward the front door. A duffel bag slung over my shoulder stuffed with loose clothes, change, a bath towel, three books with broken spines, all the tampons in the house, and a Swiss-army knife.

I hoped to stuff as many cheddar-cheese sandwiches in my sack as possible before the midnight bus came, but he was at the kitchen table. I don’t think either of us expected it, like running into your teacher at the mart and you’re both buying the same brand of toilet cleaner. There was a beer in front of his idle hands and he still wore his rumpled work shirt. He glanced at the bag on my shoulder for a long minute.

Finally, he sighed like I cut him off in traffic.

“Gimme a moment.”

My father leafed through a wad of cash he kept in a safe. He handed me almost three hundred bucks and we nodded at each other. At the time, I thought there was a kind of satisfaction to that nod, an endnote.

I was out the door before the midnight bus arrived.

Only three people were at the terminal. None of them looked at me with my pack and my knife stuffed in one hand and my eyes glowing. They did look at the glow, but not for long.

Remote and empty like maybe the world had ended and the last bits of if were nothing but strangers not making eye contact.

Finally, I watched the headlights of the midnight bus approach through dense summer night. I was struck by the thought that it was like looking at like, the glow of my eyes against its eyes. Can a bus be your father? Can your father be a man after all this time? Will your mother come looking for you?

I got on the bus and kicked my feet up against the seat in front of me. Scrunched into a ball, crossed my arms over my chest, and watched the trees turn into flickering bodies of shadow with each passing mile. ------------- My feet moved like tides. They tossed me against nameless city streets and toward empty forested slices of land. I stumbled into the painted deserts toward the west. I dipped my toes into the neon districts of the east with lights brighter than my own. I slept on benches and in kid’s treehouses and hunched my shoulders against brick walls of back alleys.

No one touched me. Maybe they’d approach now and then, but I’d open my eyes and they’d see nothing but heaven or devils or an absent lightning-God father that would smite them. I was the daughter of spirits after all.

I found my way to the ocean; beaches where other stragglers gathered and it was easy to stretch out on empty pieces of warm sand. I didn’t talk much by then, I didn’t like to; people stared whether I was speaking or screaming and clamping down on my jaw so hard it ached. Sometimes I get yelled at: Turn that off! No phone lights in here. You’re blinding me, bitch!

I’d never seen a movie in any theatres, but I could imagine what it’s like.

It was crowded, but I liked that ocean city, despite myself. It had pale buildings built into cliffs, narrow winding sidewalks where cars couldn’t fit, reckless bikers, and crushed seashell parking lots. I liked the tang of salt in the air and the way my hair crinkled from the ocean water as it sun-dried. I camp out on beaches and bummed cigarettes and hotdogs off strangers. I was good at taking care of myself once I got into a rhythm.

I had a tent by then and even an enormous sun umbrella to keep any prying eyes away. I still liked to sleep under the stars most nights though.

I often dreamed of sinking to the bottom of the ocean. I dreamed of descending on pointed ballerina-feet to the silted black bottom. I’d be weighted down through the cold and the silence to where no human being had ever been. I’d open my eyes there, open them all the way, lightning-bright, and unflinching. In my dreams, the salt didn’t even sting. I lit up the world, the whole untouched world of whales and fish and terror and maybe I’d do something good then. Maybe I’d do something good and bring the sun to places that had forgotten it. 

I hated those dreams.

I met Mags on the beach after one of those dreams. Mags had one eye and twelve teeth and carried around nothing but string and scissors everywhere. She smelled like seawater and burning kelp, dank and crusted over. Her clothes were neat despite her leather-cracked skin and arms and neck covered in tattoos of shipwrecks. We ran into each other at some bum gathering and she cackled and pulled me aside.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was old creaking wood. I didn’t answer. “I could give you one.” She offered with a grin that was more empty space than anything.

“Nana.” I gritted out. “You want something?”

“Not sure. What do you want, kid?”

I glared openly, my beam of light slanting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come here.”

I didn’t know why I was chosen.

Mags liked me more than I deserved. I pocketed her last pair of socks when she wasn’t looking. She never mentioned it and dragged me down to the community showers to get clean with soap and shampoo. She took me to the soup and salad restaurant for something that wasn’t burnt or freeze-dried or from a convenience store. She cackled, she spat when she talked, people shot her looks as well.

I thought she was normal, not touched by the spirits, but she liked me more than most people and I didn’t know why.

“You like art, kid?”

I snorted. “No.”

“Why not? You broken?” Yeah. Probably.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped back.

“Lippy squirt. Come on, I’ll show you something worth your forked tongue.”

She heated the needle before she used it, red hot and untouchable. She dipped it into deep black inks, only black and sometimes red, she called them the only colors that matter. She shows me how to prick the skin and clean it. She showed me how to slowly, painstakingly etch images. I wasn’t sure I liked it, there was something so permanent and intentional about the act.

I watched her lessons though: stick and poke to her right foot, all over those fine little bones that must hurt, in and out, a little bloody.

It took her six hours to make a tiny shipwreck right above her big toe. It was a narrow schooner going under and I was the only witness. She made the waves come to life and crash against its sides and sometimes I forgot to blink. She didn’t seem to mind.

She washed another needle. She heated it red-hot. She dipped it in ink and handed it to me.

I still wasn’t sure I liked the permanence of it, but I told myself I was bored and it was something to do. I decided quickly I did like the bite of it, I liked the focus it took, and the ability to pull something from nothing.

I practiced all over my thighs first, there was enough meat there and it was easy enough to reach: a lizard design that looked like nothing but squiggles, a TV set playing static, a tiny smudged skink with its tongue out. I practiced designs in the sand and then on paper when Mags splurged on pen and paper.

Mags took me to the museum on Sundays. They were always free on Sundays.

Something stirred in my chest, even as the guards yelled at us about how flash photography wasn’t allowed in the museum. Even as I was shooed out of exhibits for ruining the paint. Still, an ache so old it rotted roared to life in my chest.

I stabbed in and out, gentle, a collection of stars right above my right knee. A winding sand snake on my wrist, and then finally, something good, something that gave people pause and reason to stare. I made it in the mirror: a ghost on my collarbone. Shadowed and intricate and yet simple, I put a ghost right above my collarbone and it bleeds more than any of the others.

That was a good year or so; one of the best I could remember.

I didn’t want to leave the ocean city though and Mags said she had to keep moving. She had places to be. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“You're a gem, kid. You’ll knock ‘em all to the pavement.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “You’ll be back?”

She cackled. “Wouldn’t miss it. You know me.” She winked as she turns to the bus, my second father. “You think I’ll miss your great becoming, kid? I’ll be back.”

I wanted to make her pinky-promise like I was a kid again begging one of the others to tell me if I’m beautiful when I close my eyes. I couldn’t do that; I waved as she tottered up the steps of the bus and was taken away with the tides of her own feet.

A had a moment of thinking it was the end then; I was ready to get back to my real normal. I was ready to disappear again. But even shipwrecks with no witnesses leave things left to be found.

------------ I got an apprenticeship. Technically, Mags talked them into it and I just followed up when I had nothing better to do.

I didn’t think I’d like it much, but couch surfing and camping out was the pastime of the especially young. And I’d lost my giant umbrella.

It was a small shop that smelled like bleach and dried flowers. A tattoo parlor in one of the steep arts districts neighbored by food trucks and beaded necklace shops.

Penguin Davies and Bitch-Annie ran it together. Davies walked like he’d never encountered land before, and Bitch-Annie had a throw-pillow embroidered with “If you don’t have anything nice to say then come sit next to me.”

Davies was covered in nothing but birds and dizzying M. C. Escher house-designs up and down his chest and arms. Bitch-Annie had topless mermaids and pinup girls across her shoulders and legs. She’d been asked to leave a number of stores before the children started staring or thinking thoughts.

Neither of them had ever met someone like me. It was not that type of town. I rankled at most their questions, a cat meeting a steel brush. Where are you from? What’s your family name? What kind of school did you go to? Is your sight better than other people you think?

I brushed off anything more personal than my favorite type of soda. Bitch-Annie called me “Shadow” probably as a joke, probably. Davies said I must be possessed by the ghost of some dead star: a blackhole that takes everything in and lets nothing out.

Neither of them let me touch a needle in those first six months. They had me practice on pig skin and trace designs and stand by their shoulders as they worked. I felt like a dental assistant except I was the hanging light shining into open mouths instead of anything with a pulse. I stood at their shoulder as they drew thick lines and thin dots and made hearts and wolves and names of dead lovers come to life.

They asked me to stand still and stop wiggling the light. I almost walked out several to find a new cliff to crash against, almost. 

No one had ever expected anything of me before. They never expected me to show up somewhere or do something well. No one really cared if I went to school or if I did my homework, if I dressed well or went to bed on time. And no one kept any tabs on me at all after I took that first bus. That’s how I liked it.

I should’ve left, tattooing didn’t mean anything to me, not really. But Bitch-Annie stomped up to my attic-apartment one morning and threw pants at me.

“Get up, Shadow,” she barked. She was sterner than Mags, no hint of humor in her eyes. “I told you 9am so I expect 9am.”

“The fuck!?” I was eloquent in the mornings.

“Pants, shirt, shoes, and bra if you don’t want that desk idiot staring at something other than your eyes all day.”

“Are you serious?”

“Serious as a root canal. Mags swore up and down about what you. Let’s see some of that, up, up!”

I grumbled. I put on everything but the bra. No one ever expected me to be anywhere before and 9am shouldn’t have even been a concept much less a real thing. I told myself I hated it. I’d leave the next week. Or maybe the week after that or in just one more month. I kept a bus ticket under my pillow but every time the date arrived I shrugged and made myself busy.

There’d be no harm in having a savings too and seeing what all the fuss was about with having a dishwasher and a kitchen.

I wasn’t an artist of course. I didn’t understand what everyone else was seeing when they looked at the “old masters” paintings of water or war or lovers pulled apart. I didn’t feel anything in front of stain-glass windows in churches or mosaics on walls. Maybe there really was something wrong with me, my eyes. I didn’t let up though. I put on pants for it after all.

Penguin Davies hovered by my shoulder when I made my first real design.

“Mm.” He rumbled deep in his chest. He’d gone grey at an early age, had tired eyes and quick hands. The desk kid said he’d been in medical school once, a surgeon. It was hard to tell. Davies muttered a lot, stared off into space too much, and laughed like it was always a painful surprise

“Perfectionist,” he muttered at me as I start over on a crappy unicorn design. “That line was barely off. You’re being a perfectionist, Nana.”

I scowled over my shoulder and let the full weight of my light hit him across the face. “Got a problem with it?” I challenged. He chuckled darkly. His grin was crooked like a broken door handle. I tried to hide my work from him with my shoulder. “It’s not done yet.”

“It’s late.” The rest of the street was dark. I knew that.

“I said I’m not done yet! You can go home.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his grey beard.

“What?”

“Look at you. You know who makes the best artists, Nana?” He was always a bit of a philosopher. Maybe he used to study that before medicine.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. I’m working on it.”

He gave my shoulder a light push. “The ones that don’t quit.”

They let me touch a needle gun after that. I told myself I’d only sign my new apartment lease as an experiment. I didn’t have to actually stay. I’d just run from the ink on paper and hope no one chased after girls with eyes that glow.

I didn’t break my lease. I drew suns and moons, trees and fireflies, hunks in speedos on tipsy college girls who swore they were sober and erotic vampires on the chests of men getting their first divorce. I had to give two refunds for a duck that turned out lopsided and a tattoo of someone’s dog which I swore really was that ugly to begin with.

There was one at the end of that next year though, another college girl with perfectly white piano-key teeth. She asked for a stick and poke, that was what I was best at anyway, she asked for a butterfly. Butterflies were easy, I could do the little ones in my sleep. She wanted one all across her back, she said I could make it look however I wanted. So I did. Wings like fringed shawls and straight heavy lines combined with wispy swirling ones. It was dark, black ink with red highlights and gray shadows under each wing to give it movement and flight.

I hid my smile when I finished and showed her the results in the mirror. She went to my bosses and jumped up and down. She pointed and babbled, ohmyspirits, the best thing I’ve ever seen! Fuck. I should pay you double! Where did you get this girl? 

I held myself perfectly still and studied the ceiling until my eyes dried out.

I took the long way home that night. I stopped once, at the corner where the midnight bus arrived, and watched the the passengers trudge off. I didn’t expect to see Mags again so soon, not really, but sometimes I wanted to show her: Hey, maybe your work wasn’t all wasted. Maybe I did start to become.

---------------- “I’m getting you chocolate.” Annie spat, her thick arms flexing as she cleaned off the spotless counter. “I’m getting you fucking chocolate, Shadow, ‘less you tell me what flavor you actually like.”

I hung at the back of the shop next to the narrow window that faced the road. I let the sun warm my face in thick strips and watched the bicycles pass. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Tell us what your actual birthday is then, you sugar-toasted tart.”

I shrugged. “Not today.”

“Well happy fucking birthday. You’re turning two. You came to work for us two years ago today, washed up from the beach like a deranged feral cat, so this is your birthday now.”

I rolled my eyes which served to look like a flashlight given a shake. Annie spent another minute splashing disinfectant on anything that might have had even a passing conversation with a germ.

“You talk to Birdie?” She asked, but mischievously this time. I responded by setting my mouth in a hard line. “You’re turning twenty-something and you’re not even talking to Birdie, are ya?”

“I’m not telling you what I’m turning. It’s still not my birthday.” I dodged inelegantly.

“Birdie will give you a proper go-around. Even shadows like you must need a little rub now and then.”

“Go dunk your head, Annie.” I huffed.

“Afraid you’ll blind her in bed?”

I turned with a snarl. “I’ll start with you.”

“I’ve seen you flipping through those poetry books, every word about hands or mouths or rosebuds.” She gave me flat a once-over. “You’ve got a sweet tooth in you.”

I dragged myself over to the desk to snarl at her some more, but Annie was already putting her hand up and going toward the backroom.

“I’m getting you a chocolate cake either way.”

There must have been a proper way to get her to never look at my little leather poetry books again, the ones with watermarked pages, the spines broken-in, and words that oozed. No one had to know that I could read, much less that I read that.

The door dinged instead.

“Excuse me.” She walked in. Her. “Is someone, um, named Nana here?” I turned before I could stop myself. That was still my name. And it was still my work.

Twenty-something, curtains of straight black hair falling in her face, pinched nose, thin energetic lips, shorts that gave way to milk-dipped legs that never seemed to end. A slight girl in a university t-shirt. College kids came in often during their breaks, but this one was a bit different. My eyes dragged up and fish-hooked there.

Feathered tendrils sprouted from her head and reached toward the ceiling. Long and searching, a pearly green color that reminded you of leaves or plumage.

I knew within a moment where I’d heard of this: Antennae Girl. The newspapers ran our stories close together along with the boy that breathed fire and the girl with roots growing from her head. We were all born in the same year during the epoch of monsters and bastards.

I think she recognized me too.

We stopped like heartbeats seizing up before the ambulance could make it. A confused, unnatural silence. I glanced at the door and considered making a run for it.

She cleared her throat first.

“Someone said that Misty’s butterfly tattoo came from here?” She blinked once and I noticed how her feathered antennae seemed to twitch. I averted my eyes so I wouldn’t blind her. She took a step forward. “So are you . . . Nana?”

The door was right there.

“What do you want?” I had been spending too much time with Bitch-Annie.

“A tattoo?”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then why are you here?” I grunted. Footsteps came in from the back room. I was examining the smudged off-white tiles of the floor one by one.

“I wanted to . . . hey, you can look up if you want.” She said, curiously, softly. I didn’t look up. “I’m still figuring out the design.” She trudged on ahead.

“Fine.” I pivoted away. “But we’re busy. Come back later.”

A hand slapped across my shoulder. “This is Nana.” Annie stopped me from leaving. “Don’t let her eyes fool ya, it’s her personality that’s actually the problem. You saw her butterfly you said?”

“Yes!” She gushed. “It was gorgeous.”

“It was fine,” I corrected.

“It’s her birthday today.” Annie shared because she could and because she was a failed evil villain still trying to get her kicks in.

“Oh cool, happy Birthday.” A deep pause followed that could fill oceans. “You can look up. I don’t mind.” She repeated.

I opened my eyes wide and lifted my chin in one jerky motion. A beam of fluorescent headlights hit her across the face. “Is this what you want?” Venom dripped from my lips. This was why I tried not to talk too much.

The young woman squinted for a moment before covering her eyes and nodding. “I read about you,” she stated as if it was nothing. “I’m turning twenty-two this year . . . so I guess, you are too?”

“What?!” Delight filled Annie’s entire expression. “Hot damn! Twenty-two?” I groaned deeply. “Hey, you, girlie,” she addressed antennae-girl, “you want to come out for drinks tonight?”

I tried to protest as quickly as possible, but somehow didn’t summon the words quickly enough.

“Sure.” She agreed. ----------------------

The night was humid and clung to us like a second skin. I wandered through the hilly streets with Penguin Davies wobbling beside me. The desk kid—Daft Jeff, said Davies had some inner-ear problem that made it hard for him to keep his balance. Annie said he just didn’t belong on land— he couldn’t walk straight unless something was tilting and rolling under his feet.

Davies made his way up the hill, faltering and missing the musical beats of it. He refused to let me steady him and I refused to have him sing to me. It was apparently my birthday.

“Someone saw your design.” He noted on the downhill.

“Yeah. Some college girl.” I grumbled.

“What’d you think?” He asked in his usual mysterious way.

“She just wants a good look.” I returned in a neutral tone. “She read about me in the paper. All she wants to do is look.”

“She saw your design.” He paused. “And Jeff said she was like you.”

I blinked hard so the path ahead was eaten by shadow and Davies stumbled. “Not all of us have to be friends . . .” I said sourly and didn’t fill in the rest. “I’ve met kids with antlers and frog-hands before. I doesn’t mean anything.”

“Any of them come visit?”

“They’re smart enough not to.” I snark. “But the ones who manage to be pretty don’t have the brains to stay away.”

“Mm.” He made a soft sound. “What kind of tattoo do you think she’ll get?”

“How should I know? A heart or anchor or something dumb like that.” I walked on ahead. “Maybe I’ll give her a quote from some dead poet.”

“You like poetry.”

I huff dramatically, “Not what I mean. Girls like her don’t like my type of poetry, you know I’m saying.”

“What kind of girls?” Davies was patient. I hated that about him.

I stopped at the corner to let him catch up. “Don’t play dumb. Hot ones, college ones, getting a degree in money or music. They don’t watch over their shoulders enough or know when to stay away.” I scuffed my shoe on the ground. “Whatever.”

Davies was still thinking. I considered pushing him over. He finally spoke up again as we approach the bar, “That sea witch ever show up again?”

“Mags?” I snorted. “No. Why?”

“Cause I’m sure she’d like to see this.”

I didn’t say anything else as we reached the doorway. -------------------- The bar was loud. More people than I liked came to my “party.” I should have seen it coming. If the cliff city liked one thing it was an excuse to drink.

I crammed myself up against the bar and ordered a gin and tonic before the rest of the night crowd could arrive. Birdy was holding court at a corner table and waving at me. “There she is! Someone put a blanket over Nana, lights out, party up!”

Her puns usually left something to be desired. She sang “Blinded by the Light” every time she saw me for half a year.

I drank half my gin and tonic in the first gulp as a new stream of townies burst in. They arrived to buy me birthday beers and shout their opinions on the shitty new chain restaurant on 3rd street. I was almost tasting the bottom of my second glass when someone tapped on my shoulder.

I barely looked over.

The girl with sheets of black hair and a practiced-appearance stood before me—like she was at dress rehearsal and expected everyone else to know the lines as well. She carried a baby-blue bike helmet in one hand, and I noted there were two hand-drilled holes in the top.

“You.” I was tempted to shake her hand like I might make this a transactional hello and goodbye in short order.

“Hey.” She smiled, hesitant, like maybe the food on the fork might be too hot. “Nana, right?”

“Yep.” I sighed the word real long and heavy. “Listen, I really can’t give you a tattoo if you don’t know what you want.”

“No, no, I get it. But I want you to know . . . I didn’t know it was you.”

“Uh, okay. Though I’m pretty hard to miss over here.” I was looking at the dirty wine bottles stacked near the ceiling. Her antennae hang over both of us like fern fronds.

“No. I mean, when I saw the butterfly. That’s when I wanted to come here. Not after.”

“After what?” I was gonna make her say it.

“After I found that it was, well, you know, Headlights Girl.”

“Mm.” I was spending too much time with Davies. “You want something to drink?”

She sighed as well, real long and heavy. “Sure.” She took the seat next to me. “I’m Park by the way.”

“Park.” I rolled the name around in my mouth. “And you already know me.”

“I don’t think I do.” She laughed, sharp and bristly like something you can get cut on. “And I’ll have a beer. . . but only once you look up. Come on, I’m not like that.” I looked up. Her face was bright, round like the moon, her grin was sneaky and unearned. “There we go.”

She waved over the bartender Kipp and ordered her dark beer.

“It’s not really my birthday.” I informed her, dumbly. Every word felt dumb and clumsy all at once.

“Why not?” She was teasing. I knew that.

“That’s not how birthdays work.” I informed and wished I could backtrack into hostility again.

“Oh darn,” she winked. “And here I was about to make it my birthday too.”

“Uh, well,” I really should have left when I had the chance. “It’s not too late?”

“That’s the spirit!” She laughed, fuller this time and rounded. I looked her straight in the face and then quickly looked away again. Her grin was aimed at me, somehow, and seemed to reach high cupboards inside me you usually needed a stool for.

“Park,” I repeated the name and shifted in place. “So did you go to Haveryards or Simmons?” There were only two schools in the country for spirit bastards like us. Haveryards was close enough for me to get bussed to—an hour one way and then an hour home.

“Neither. I went to public and then Bakerville Uni.” She rapped on the counter. “Hey, you want another gin and tonic? Or I’ll mix you up something.” Her eyes flickered over everything. “I bartended my way through college so I can make a mean margarita.”

“Oh, Bakerville U., yeah. That ones close.” I stuttered a bit. She was leaning across the counter and trying to get Kipp’s attention a second time. My words were feeling dumber and dumber by the moment, perhaps losing all shape and meaning altogether. “That’s where you went?”

“How’d you guess?” She said playfully and pointed to her t-shirt. She finally got the bartender over. “Right, you want something hard? Vodka maybe? A mule?”

I scratched my chin. “ . . . I don’t care. I’m easy.”

She rolled her eyes and I knew she must feel me staring. “I can’t imagine shopping for you for today then.” She snickered and climbed over the counter. “Happy birthday, how about one chocolate mule for a free tattoo?”

“You wish.” I made a face. “You don’t even know what you want.”

“And you do?” She was still grinning, somehow. “I’ve decided I’m making you the equivalent of all the soda flavors mixed together at once. Close your eyes.”

I closed my eyes and I tried to turn off my thoughts. It was bright as knives inside my skull; I carry the daytime with me. Panic threatened to rise up (for no reason of course), but a soft hand brushed against mine, soft like sheets in fancy hotels and flower petals. I peaked and Park slid a full murky glass toward me.

“Drink up.”

It was sweet. It wasn’t even my birthday. I didn’t care. She called it a chocolate-mule-Park Special and maybe chocolate really was my favorite flavor. -------------- Park started coming around. She rode a sky-blue bike with a white basket and rusting hinges. I couldn’t imagine doing all the hills in the city without any gears, but she managed. She said she was figuring things out after graduating. She said she liked it here.

I grumbled when she came by. I complained like Annie when Wicker the cat visited: Get that thing away from me. I hate that. Smells awful. I’ve got allergies. Put that away, it’ll kill me.

I never said anything when Annie left fish heads out and bowls of milk of course.

Park smelled like sunscreen and breath mints. She had strong opinions on everything from street paving techniques to which sun hats went with which dresses. She invited me on walks. She invited me to help her change a flat tire. She invited me to the corner shop to help her pick out bottle can openers.

I said no. Sometimes I said no. I started to say yes.

“Look at this,” she liked to show me things. She liked to show me pictures of squirrels on her phone and weird pieces of glass she found. She liked to point out new restaurants (that I’d already been to) and play videos of funny traffic jams.

This time she held up a seashell. It was rounded and flat with a swirl in the center.

“I’m looking.” I said carefully.

“Watch how it catches light.” I shun my eyes on it and she moved it back and forth. There were bits of silver veins caught in the cracks of it.

“There’s tons of those.” At this point, I had valiantly refused to be impressed by even her cutest squirrel pictures.

“Ugh.” She pouted. “Are you kidding? I spent all morning looking for this.”

“They're right by the surf. I could find you five bigger ones than this before sunset.”

“Alright, hot-shot.” She jut her chin out and jabbed my shoulder. “Prove it.”

I said yes to that one. I left right after my shift ended with the sun setting in the waters like a stabbed orange bleeding out. I met Park by the parking lot with drooping palms trees lining the sides and lost flipflops everywhere.

“This is where you went wrong.” I announced. I couldn’t help it. “This is the tourist beach. You have to go somewhere real.”

“Alright, alright. You’ve already established you’re the hot-shot here. Lead the way.”

She followed me. I ignored how she lingered by my side. I ignored how her hand wrapped around my arm as she stopped us to look at a tiny horseshoe crab. Her hand was soft, like velvet, soft enough to smother something in my chest.

I found two seashells with streaks of silver and rainbow through them, both bigger than my palm. The sun was a flat line on the horizon before I could find a third and Park hooted.

“You said before sunset! It’s sunset, baby, pay up.” She called. “And you were so sure you were a better seashell hunter than me.” She tsked.

I scanned the ground more quickly. “It’s barely nighttime.” I pointed to the sky. “And I can keep looking. I have the built-in equipment for it.”

“Oh I know.” She planted herself on the soggy crusted sand and sat down in a heap. “But can you find why kids love the taste of not doing that? Take it easy. Take a seat.”

“So pushy.”

“You know me.” It was fond. It had only been a few months, but there was something fond there.

I ran a hand through my short choppy curls. “Fine.” I sat next to her, not too close. “It’s your loss.” We both looked out at the gently lapping waves, foaming and anemic. She let a long breath of air and for a moment I considered brushing her hair back. It was always in her face.

It was a quiet moment, bottled, and pitching toward something. Like the the moment where you miss a step on the stairs and the certainty of the fall was right there.

I was the one that scooted a little closer.

“I’m considering getting a storm cloud,” she commented off-handedly. “Can you do storm clouds?”

I made a sound of consideration. “Sure.” I glanced toward the opposite corner of the night sky. “I think I’ve seen one of those before. Big puffy wet things?”

“Kinda fluffy? You’re getting there.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” I’m smiling, which is alright since there’s no way she could see it. She’s silent for another moment longer.

“Or would you make fun of me if I got something like a butterfly? Like your other one.”

“A storm cloud butterfly?”

“No. The cloud would it’s own thing.” She chewed on her bottom lip, ragged and chapped. “I mean, I’ve been doodling some ideas. And tattoos should be personal, right? So I thought a storm cloud might be fitting. Kids used to pay me a couple dollars to predict the weather. It could be a memorial to childhood entrepreneurial spirit.”

I watched her speak and something beat inside my chest like a second animal. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to feel velvet again.

“Why?” I rasped after a moment.

“Uh, why did they pay me? It’s just something I can do. Whenever it's going to rain or storm or be sunny out. I dunno, I don’t know why the rest of you can’t sense it.”

“And you didn’t become a meteorologist?” I smiled a bit bitterly.

She made an indignant noise. “And you didn’t become a professional lighthouse?”

I choked on a laugh. “Not yet.” A quiet consumed us from both sides, I made sure my light didn’t crash into her. I made sure to look at anything but her. She’d have to squint if I did and cover her eyes and I’d be there, ready to run her over.

“Kids in my class paid me too.” I barely realized I started speaking. “They slipped me a couple bucks to close my eyes so they could see my face.”

“You got money for that?”

“There wasn’t always much to do. Teachers were quitting all the time and sometimes it was just the TV. I dunno, they paid me. Then they’d giggle and run away afterward.” My voice sounded automated like the announcer at an airport, informing travelers their flight was canceled. “They always said I had a pig nose or a unibrow or looked like the lead singer of that Minx girl band-- super hot, but you know, it didn’t matter.” The laugh that escaped was high, girlish in a grotesque way. “Since, you know, no one would ever see it.”

“Kids are fucked up.” Park contributed simply.

“Adults are too.” I sniffed. “Everyone wants a light show.”

“Oh.” She said slowly. “Is it . . . is it bad I wanted to meet you then? I mean, I wanted to see the art first, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor.”

“No.” I said quickly. I lit up my own lap and empty hands. “Does it matter?”

“I never went to those schools,” she said hesitantly. “My parents fought them, said the schools were unfit. They shouldn’t be able to force us there. And that I wasn’t even dangerous since,” she gestured helplessly upward, “I just have these. So then, well, I never really met anyone else like me.”

“I mean, everyone’s different. It’s not . . . a big deal.”

“You’d think so,” she commented sardonically.

I folded up into myself like a complex origami piece. “Yeah, well, sometimes I wish I was dangerous. Actually dangerous.”

She giggled. “Didn’t you just say everyone’s different? I’d say everyone’s dangerous too. Just gotta find the niche.”

“Oh yeah,” I dared to turn toward her. “What’s yours then?”

“My danger niche? Hmm.” She was leaning now, pitching forward like a wave come to drown me. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve I’ll admit.”

“You have a pair of wings hidden away?” I stopped breathing as her hand lifted up, strange and all at once. I wasn’t ready.

“Here.” Her skin was against mine. She cupped my cheek with one velvet-hand. It was heated cashmere, tiny feather-light hairs on her palm. “Feelers.” She whispered with a hesitancy there.

“Ah,” I was indulgent. I closed my eyes. I leaned in. “And you want to put a needle over these?” I put my hand over hers, loosely, so she could pull away if she wanted to. Tiny hairs pulsed there with some kind of life all their own. 

“I wanted . . .” She paused and I peaked open my eyes. I could see every detail of her face, illuminated. “I dunno.” She finished. “I guess I just wanted whatever I saw there, before.”

“In the butterfly?”

“In the butterfly.” I turned toward the ocean, but my hand remained over hers. “I’m not sure how good it will be a second time. It’s not like I’m really an artist. . .”

“What did you want to be?” Soft.

“Who knows. I mean, I’m glad my parents didn’t try to fight the schools. Being there during the day was better than being home, listening to my mom crying all the time and my father exploding . . . They wouldn’t have wanted me home.”

Before the sunset, when I was walking over, I thought maybe we’d kiss that night. I thought I’d feel that first electric pulse and maybe we’d climb into the ocean and swim in circles, laugh until the moon rose. I thought maybe I’d get something out of my system and there wouldn’t be anything left to say or do.

I’d kiss Park, once, and she’d be satisfied. She’d understand. She’d go on her college path and I’d go on on mine.

But the words spilled out, unbidden. Park stayed in place, steady and unflinching. That made it worse, so much worse.

“My parents weren’t like yours.” There was an accusatory edge to it. Don’t you know? I wanted to shout. Don’t you know? Even without the eyes or the school bills or the bus.

“Hey,” she cradled my cheeks with both hands now and smeared the tears away from one eye. “Hey, listen, I know. Alright? I know.”

I scowled back at her feathered little feelers.

“It’s not about the damn antenna or head beams or anything else.” I tried to pull away. “Even the kid with the antler’s kissed me and I didn’t stop him. I ran away from home and my mom never came looking. It didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter! You wouldn’t even get it. You wouldn’t get it!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “You were wanted.”

Slowly, like an awkward animal burrowing into soft earth, she pressed her forehead to the crook of my neck. I could feel us both breathing in, strong and steady. She was lean and silky, and I swore I can feel her heartbeat hammering through my throat.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. I inhaled her sunscreen scent. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know. But I could.”

“Why are you here?” It was miserable and wet, I hated that my eyes were so different and yet still the same. Could still spill over like theirs. She took a long breath but didn’t move away.

“My last girlfriend broke up with me for being . . . sensitive and I thought maybe if I got a tattoo, I’d stop feeling so much. I’d prove something. I’d feel everything less, you know? It would hurt and then it wouldn’t.”

I took that in a parsec at time. “Are you,” I sniffed. “Are you alright?” Her legs and arms were plastered over mine. “You’re so soft, but, but I don’t want to,” I wipe at my face like it didn’t matter. “Hurt you.”

“I know.” Her face was still pressed to my neck and her lips fluttered across the hallow of my skin. “I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

A stillness settled into my bones. I glanced toward the moon, and it was like looking at like, a terrible moon to another moon. I gathered myself. I took a deep breath. I flattened.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” My voice had dried up. “We led different lives.” It wasn’t her fault if she was wanted.

“No.”

“I wasn’t thinking . . .”

Her hand wrapped around my wrist. “I talk to Annie sometimes when you aren’t there.”

“Okay?”

“And Davies. And that front desk guy.”

“Daft Jeff. Yes.”

“They all say the same thing . . .” I blinked a couple times. “That I really should wait for you to give me the tattoo. You have a steady hand and an eye for detail.”

“Alright . . .”

“That someone taught you tattooing the right way. They wanted to show you the right way to do it.”

I snorted despite myself. “It’s not that hard. Mags was batty. Who knows why she showed me how to pick up a needle.”

“Don’t you see? They say they wouldn’t know what to do without you.” She was still there. She wasn’t moving, almost in my lap now. “You were wanted.”

“Park?” My voice cracked like a question.

“And you come with me to restaurants and help me buy bottle openers. You find shells for me and help me fix tires.” Her breath was hot and dragged across my cheek. “You are wanted.”

I blocked out her face, her voice, I turned on the sharp white sun inside and for a moment I imagine never opening my eyes back up again. Maybe I could make it night forever inside myself as well. Wouldn’t you rather have something quiet inside?

She wrapped herself around me, fully, one long arm at a time until it was cocoon. Soft. “Listen, sometimes the first people aren’t the right people. Sometimes your first relationship isn’t the right relationship. Sometimes you’re sure the world is one way, and like, always one way . . . and then it rains and the whole world is different again. You know? People pass.”

“My parents aren’t the weather.”

“But they’ll pass.” I should have pushed her off. But even against that, even those words— I liked being held, indulgent as chocolate and twice as guilty. “People sometimes feel forever, especially those kinds of people.” I was off again. “But it rains. And hey, I always know when it’s going to rain.”

I hiccupped; a smile found its way uninvited onto my face, unsure and just wobbly on its feet as Davies. I glanced down after a deep breath. Park grinned back at me and it reached the highest shelves of me all over again.

“So what happens when it rains again? Do you people like you pass?”

“Nah, not me. I don’t know how.” She winked. I didn’t notice that we’re lying flat now, stars and carpet of black above. “You can’t get rid of me. You haven’t given me that tattoo yet.”

The sound of shushing waves filled the midnight air and the moon looked down like that very first bus arriving to get me all those years ago. I wrapped my arms right back around her. She didn’t seem to mind that I was sticky or strange or sometimes kept tearing up all over again even after we’d stop saying anything worth tearing up over. ------------------

It happened. I felt like I should have been more prepared, brought flowers or poetry or earned it through honored warfare. But it happened. I was wearing ripped jeans, a spotty t-shirt and my breath smelled like coffee. We were looking for Park’s lost earring along an overgrown hill she usually biked along.

I found it, one shiny red dewdrop in all that green. Park pointed at some clouds that looked like my last “abstract” tattoo. We lay back in the grass and let the sky pass overhead. She giggled and touched my wrist, side by side. I let her.

“Summer’s almost over.” I mumbled it first.

“Yeah?”

“You find your next step then, college girl?” I tried to keep my tone light. She turned to be on her side.

“Maybe.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Oh, you know. This and that.”

“That does not sound like a college-girl plan.”

“Maybe I’ve got other plans. Maybe I’ve got other priorities, huh?”

“Ridiculous.” A playfully push her shoulder. “A lousy seaside town really isn’t priority material. There’s only one bookshop you know.”

“Two thank you very much. And that’s not my priority either.” Her voice wavered.

“Are you going to share with the class?”

“Is the class ready?” She whispered and I turned toward her as well now, taking in her perfect round face and question-mark mouth.

“I have been.” I matched her whisper. I tremor from my center outward and hopes she can’t tell.

“Do you know what they say about moths?”

“What?” I gave a breathy laugh. It wasn’t what I was expecting. “I’ve heard of them.”

“They tell your fortune.” She was grinning in that way that put out a stool and reached up. “I used to cry a lot growing up, because some kids said that moths are just evil butterflies. I was sensitive and ran all the way home. I threw myself at my mom’s feet and threw a fit about how moths were just evil butterflies. They were just ugly, wicked versions of a good thing.”

“Evil? Well, I suppose you are rather sinister when you haven’t eaten.”

“Shut up. I’m telling you something.” She put a hand on my shoulder. I inhaled deeply and turned over in place to face her. Only the shallow breeze kept us apart.

“I’m all ears . . . though maybe not as many as you.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What can I say? The sun is adorable. I take after him.”

A finger ghosted over my cheek, tracing the arc of my cheekbone. “Well, you’re not so bad behind those headlights too. Some of us have good day vision you know. And good taste.”

I wished those words didn’t make my chest do funny things. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to hear what my mom said or not?”

“That you shouldn’t worry about evil butterflies?” I wiggled closer. “Because you’ll be really hot and funny and smart one day. So who cares if you’re evil?”

“Yeah, those were her exact words.”

“So?”

“So,” a firm hand took my chin. “Look at me.” I looked at her. I was glad she couldn’t see the flush in my cheeks in any way. “Moths show good fortunes she said.”

“Right. Lots and lots of good fortune.” I breathed, dumbly, of course. She was close and sweet and there was hair in her face. The fronds of her antennae tickle right past my ear.

“They can help you find good fortune. They’re good omens. You know why?” Park’s lips were barely moving as she spoke, hypnotic and unhurried.

“Why?”

“Because they follow the light.”

It happened all at once. Like every cheesy love poem or bad lyrics I wrote in my journals at night. It was every cracked-spine of a book using words like “rosebud lips” and every overdone song about people who find their way to each other.

I kissed her, leaning in with no life vest on or readied crash-landing position. She kissed me and my chest filled with her, breathless, drowning, soft as dreams and stranger than hope. I cradled her and she dragged me closer and closer until it was nothing but floods and brimming.

I’d been nothing before I think, I’d been an island that waits, a bus that leaves, a shadow that hides. And then I had been hers. ----------------- I was strolling home from work along the main road. The thin strip of sidewalk was streaked with bleached sunlight and the salt air was thick enough to burn throats. It was the long way home, but I was in the habit of going back to this corner.

The bus pulled up with little ceremony. It was an interstate one that crisscrossed over empty bellies of land. I stopped in place to watch, just in case, as I had many times before.

A silver head bobbed down the steps and planted herself on the concrete, unbelieving. She took an enormous noisy sniff of the air. “Not so bad!” She bellowed.

“Are you?” That wasn’t meant to be my first word. She was more stooped now and wearing shiny things on her wrist that clanked. She’d lost another tooth. “Mags.”

“Eh!” She yelled and waved frantically as if I hadn’t shot up another inch since I last saw her and started wearing clothes without holes in them. Her eyes sparkled as she tottered over. “So how’d you do, kid?”

“See for yourself.” I smiled. It was nice when the tides came back in. Mags gave me a thorough appraising. “Like this I guess.” I held up my hand. I wiggled my ring finger at her, heavy with a silver band and glittering opal.

“That’s my girl! Always knew you’d find your feet.” She cackled. “Am I too late to give you away, kid?”

I shook my head. She waddled over to me so I could take her hand. I took her home to show her my art and new tattoos, I showed her our terrible one-eyed kitten, Basket (Wicker’s son), and the little house we styled ourselves. I showed her our shoe closet and our queen bed, our messy kitchen and busted screen door. I showed her the moth tattoo over my heart, and Park showed her the matching lighthouse one over hers.

I tried to thank her, of course, I tried to say I owed her more than she knew for picking up an angry, dirty kid and seeing something in her. I owed her everything. But she just patted my hand and said that it’s not about our debts in life, kid. It’s about the becoming.

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