#...now that i'm saying this it could actually kind of work for a crack fic or something lmao. but. yeah. |D

[genspiel]

...so, we know that decim got his job after the 15th floor was vacated by quin. but. was there a previous arbiter of viginti??? who were they and where tf are they now??? i'm-

[reveriebae]

How it tastes like

pairing(s) : Roommate! Song Mingi x Fic writer! reader

word count : 2912

genre : smut

synopsis : when your roommate wanna check what's make you stressed out from writing end up to an unexpected tasting experience.

warning(s) : afab! reader, oral (m & f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no protection (please use in rl!), cumplay. Lmk if I missed something.

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

A loud sigh escaping from your lips, your room is dark but the screen from the laptop in front of you lights up your face and some spot behind you which is the headboard of your bed.

"Fuck this is so hard, what the hell am I gonna type" you muttered.

Being a writer is fun, actually really fun, but there's a time where you can't think any word and stressed out when people who read your fics give you a bunch of requests but they doesn't give you any plot idea or something that could boost your writing mood, especially when it comes to something you never even experience but you really want to write about that thing. You don't have to be a full experienced person to write stories, but sometimes to make your story feels alive and entertaining you gotta know the details about the thing that will be the main 'thing' for the whole story.

It's about blowjob in this case, as a smut fanfic writer it's really stressed you out when you realized how powerful and amazing your imagination are but the lack of experience you have is sometimes become a barricade for you to explain every detail of it, it's making you feel exhausted and confused and of course losing your interest to write, but the image of finish your writing that satisfied your imagination feels so so good.

"Hey, Y/N are you still awake?" Your roommate said after knock your bedroom door.

"Yeah, why?" The door cracks open, showing Mingi on the door frame peeks inside your room while all he could see is just a dark room with a small light from the laptop screen.

"Are you serious? Still writing at this fucking hour? Y/N please look at the time..you gotta rest, you gotta work, you have a class tomorrow and you gonna blind yourself if you keep writing in the dark dumbass".

"Shut the fuck up, you always say that I have to find some hobby to not stressed out from my-".

"Hobby do not supposed to make you feel stressed Y/N.. don't get me wrong, can I go in?" you nod and he turn on the light switch of your bedroom, he sits beside you on the bed.

You hurried to close the laptop cause everyone knew you are a writer but no one knows what in the hell your writings are about. Mingi frowns and his face is all confused.

"I was about to help Y/N, don't be such an ass".

"No no, you don't have to Mingi, I... I feel tired, I'm gonna slee-" he grab your laptop in one hand and his other hand grips both of your hand, you gasp as you tried to get off of his hand but you can't match his power.

"Nah you're not gonna fool me this time, come on let me help. You gotta remember your family is not even here, if you sick I'm gonna be the one who got to and will to take care of you".

"But Mingi, that's not the problem..".

"Just tell me what story are you writing right now? Is it romance?" You shook you head.

"Fantasy?action?" Nuh-uh.

"You do horror??".

"No you dumb, I am a smut writer" your face flushed it's now all red and hot from the embarrassment, but his face remained still.

"What is smut? A killer documentary? World secret? Conspiracy theory?" You stare at him in disbelief.

"It's.. it's some kind of... Porn" You stutter as he still grips you hand and your laptop is on his lap. Your faced get hotter when he just laughed in front of your face.

"You? Write a porn? That's amazing actually, despite you interact with guy is a rare view that so cool that you could write that such a thing, so what makes you stressed lately?" He lets out your hand to give you a small clap with smile that you want to wipe of his face, cause you're literally suffering while he unexpectedly support you when he knew you wrote filth all this time.

"You won't help me at all Mingi, just go.." you let out a deep breath, can't seem to look at his eyes.

"You're just unsure of the things that you want to write, because I know you are inexperienced. Now tell me, what makes you stressed?" He ends up rubbing your knuckles softly, wants to make you sure that you're safe with him, wants to make you sure that he cares about you in every way.

"Shut the fuck up Mingi, I said you won't help me".

"You are the one who's gonna shut the fuck up and tell me now" he grumbled he lets your hand then lift up your chin to make you look at his eyes.

"Blowjob, it's blowjob!" Your face might be directed to him but you shut your eyes closed.

"Wasn't so hard was it? Tell me more of your curiosity about blowjob".

You have no choice but to explain to him, it's overshoot. "I- I know blowjob is sucking- you know..dick, I have read those blowjobs scene from a lot of different writers but I'm not sure if I can write about that cause I don't know what to write for the details, I always thought of 'what if I make a mistake?' 'what if my readers mock me because of my writings?' 'what if they call me an inexperienced smut writer?' I got so many 'what if' in my head Mingi and I know you could barely help me, beside this is so embarrassing to talk about this with you cause you're literally a dude".

"That's the point, I'm a dude and that's why I said let me help you. All you gotta do is just ask" Your mind wandered into something you shouldn't thought about, the word 'All you gotta do is just ask' is so ambiguous, is he telling you to ask a question or ask him to do something? You decided to give up and receive the help Mingi gave you.

"So..how a cum tastes like?" You ask bluntly makes him chuckles under his breath.

"I never taste my own cum Y/N" you frown and slap his shoulder make him hissed.

"Fuck off Mingi, you told me you gonna help me!".

"I was Y/N, but I really never taste my own cum so I really don't know" he laughed while blocking your hands that's about to puch his chest. "But you can taste it yourself, if you want to" he smirks after finish his laughter.

"Mingi..you did not..".

"I'm just tryna help, if you want to let's do it..the blowjob, once again if you want to. But if you don't I'll be back to my room right now " You thought he's just playing with you but when you gather your courage to look at his face, he's serious about it.

"But that would be so weird.." he shakes his head at your words "isn't it?".

"No if you would trust me as much as I trusted you, you gotta remember that you are the one who need this Y/N, I'm just trying to help" His hands wraps around your shoulders, make you hold a shiver that could run down your body. "Do you want to?" His eyes drilling holes into your soul, you could only nod at him and smile plastered his face.

"So..w-what should I do?" You look back at your lap, you're so embarrassed right now you can't even think straight.

"My eyes are right here love, now help me to remove my pants" he lifts your chin up again, and now your hands begin trailing his sweatpants as he move his hips up to make you remove the pants easier.

Now he's half naked, in front of you, on your bed and the night dress you are wearing is slutty enough for the man's view.

"Show me what you learned from those smuts you read love" You start to touch his dick, hold and experimentally stroke his dick. You could hear his breath hitched, it gains confident in you so you stroke it a bit faster makes him lets out a moan, you could feel yourself started getting wet.

"Good love, now try to use your mouth" You wet your lips then stick your tongue to lick on his shaft then roll your tongue on the head. A salty liquid appears you guess that is what's called a precum, you open your mouth and try to take his cock inside, take a look at Mingi make you moan at how good he looks right now. His head falls back to the headboard while his mouth wide open, the sweats rising on his forehead and chest going up and down at how hard he is breathing, when you taste the salty precum of his your moan send a vibration right into his dick then his right hand suddenly have a nice grip on your hair as he starts moving your head up and down his cock.

The more he moves your head the faster it become and deeper it gets down your throat, when you swallow your saliva that collected inside your mouth, his moan became louder then you do it repeatedly. His not gonna last and you know it, you could feel his cock pulsing against your lips then you could taste a really bitter liquid spurts out of his dick, he calls your name on repeat then you bob your head on his dick for about 4 times before you pull out.

When you watch porn or read smut, it looks so easy to swallow the cum but you can't seem to swallow it, Mingi noticed your panicked expression then quickly open your drawer to take 2 sheets of tissues then hold the tissue on his hand and put it near your lips "Sorry love, spit it out don't worry" instead of spit his cum out of your mouth, you stick out your tongue while look at him to give him a nice view of his cum trickle down your tongue and land on the tissue on his hands.

"Fuck you look so beautiful doing that, so pretty for me, so messy with my cum like that love" when his cum is all out of your mouth Mingi throw the tissue to the trash bin and hand you a glass of water. "Your throat might feel a bit rough, you gotta drink a lot " you nod as you do what he tells, you could still feel the taste of his cum washed by the water and crashing down your throat.

"Mingi..uhm, I think you caused me another problem" you cleared your throat then Mingi eyes went wide he thought he hurted you or something.

"What? Are you okay? Am I hurting your throat? Too big for your lips it hurts?" He ramble then you close his mouth with your index finger to shut him up.

"No, it's just.. I need you to..".

"To what? You want another glass of water? Or do you want a candy? Yeah? I have some in my room wait a seco-".

"I need to you fuck me Mingi! You moaned a lot when I suck you, you..make me kinda wet".

"Oh..you sure?" Mingi blinks multiple times when you finally stand up and kissed him, the kiss is slow and passionate, his hands begins to roams all over your body as you gasp onto his mouth.He lays you in your bed, pull up your night dress to reveal you are not wearing anything but only your panties inside the dress. "So beautiful for me love, bet you gonna touch yourself while imagine about me tonight if we don't fuck" he lowers himself until he's between your legs then he removes your panties in no time.

"I actually did, sometimes" he looks at your face at the words, he grips your thighs so hard you let out a hiss.

"You are really driving me insane my love, do you also write smut about me?" He opens your legs wide and place his face right in front of your bare pussy then blow on it, the action make you whimper above him. "I hope you could take a look at how wet you are love, eager for me to ruin your pretty little pussy, don't you?" He trails kisses on you inner thigh.

"Please Mingi..don't keep me waiting" you mewl then smile to him when he looks at your face, pushing his middle finger into your wet cunt make you gasp as he trusts it slowly inside you.

"You're not ready to take me yet my love, I gotta prepare you first" he trusts his finger faster and when you start to moan loudly he pull his finger out of you and lick them clean. "So sweet for me" you whimper at his action.

"Don't you wanna eat me out Mingi? Please do" smirk plastered on his face when you say the word, he lifts your legs until they touched your chest then he devour you immediately. Your eyes rolling back and your hand automatically get a grip on Mingi's hair as he growls into your pussy. He inserts his middle and ring fingers into your cunt then curling it up while his tongue doing a kitten lick on your clit, a fast kitten lick on your clit. "Fuck Mingi.. don't stop-mmh gonna..gonna cum" His index finger joins the other two fingers and he suck your clit make you scream as you cum so hard your body spasming and Mingi holds your hips down.

"Just like that love, let it out for me" he trails kisses on you cheeks and jawline until you stop shaking under him.He peels off his shirt then rubbing his cock on your clit, you let out whimpers because of the sensitivity "And from now on..fuck with me will be your new hobby, my dick is gonna be your fucking hobby" with that he enters himself inside you in one hard trust make you scream so loud. "Oh shoot, it hurts? Sorry, I'll pull it ou-".

"No please, just keep going" you breathed while holding into his arms, he nods at you then starts to move slowly. When your moans become louder he sped up his movement, "ah- fuck you feel so good Mingi, so big.." you moan uncontrollably.

"Yeah, you take me really well Y/N my love" his words sounds so sweet with the soft deep voice he lets out, but his grip on your waist and the way he's pistoning his hips so hard your tears start to gather at the corner of your eyes.

"Faster Mingi! Please make me cum please please fuckkk" Your eyes closed, whimpers and rambling flow out of your lips. You can hear his whisper, definitely sounds like he's begging you to cum. His movement become faster and faster, you lose it when he moves one of his hand and rubs your clit with two fingers that you assume it's his index and middle finger.

"Yes love..yes, fuck you are so so tight, so good for me, you are amazing baby" you cum for the second time, your legs feels like giving up but Mingi still thrust himself into you. "God.. I'll fucking give you what you want, I'll make you taste what you wanna fucking taste" it doesn't take him so long to cum inside you with sharp thrust that make you let out a choked moan. He pulled out make you whimper then go down on you to suck his cum out of your cunt.

"W-wait Mingi! What are you doing?!" You look down but he pays you no mind, when he finishes whatever he's doing he hovers over you and then give you an open mouthed kiss, your eyes open wide when you could taste a salty liquid over your tongue, when Mingi fills your mouth with all his cum he pulls off from the kiss then spit right into your tongue, he is doing a fucking cumplay and you know that.

"Now swallow it love, I know you can do it" You don't wanna swallow it, but the moment when Mingi spit into your mouth and the fact that your cum, his cum, your spit and his spit are mixed together make your head dizzy in a good way then you swallow it unwittingly and without hesitation, you show your tongue to him to proof that you have swallow all of it, his smirk grows. "You do really good for me love" he's keeping you in his embrace for a good half an hour. When he feels you dozed off, he give a light pat on your cheek you wake you up. "Don't sleep yet my love, we gotta clean you up first".

"I'm feel so tired Mingi, let me sleep" He lifts you up into his arms instead, but it's not like you're complaining tho. He takes you to your bathroom then put you inside the tub after he fills it with warm water.

He stokes your hair make you dozed off again, he giggles at the sight.

"What are you going to do without me, my love".

[nightlyrequiem]

Crawl to Me

The world ended long ago. Now belonging to the undead that roam it, feeding on the last surviving people. You've learned to avoid the rotters. You have a past with one and like when she was alive, she's not willing to let you escape so easily.

New Part Every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I was actually working on an apocalyptic fic in June, but I genuinely couldn't figure out how to progress the story in an interesting way. I still want to write one though because I'm a slut for apocalypse stories. This ones kind of lengthy. Like 2800 words

Tags/Warnings: Undead Valeria, No Use of the Word 'Zombie', Apocalypse, Gore, Stalking, WLW, Implied But Also In Your Face Toxic Relationship

The world ended eight months ago. A disease thawed from the melting glaciers and ravaged through the living population faster than it could control. Hospitals were overrun and the government declared a state of emergency. You weren't to leave your homes for anything. Rations were to be dropped off by authorized personal. They followed all the proper protocols and procedures, and it wasn't enough.

"Do you think this is expired?" A woman asks. She's rooting through a pile of canned food while you and a man keep a watch out. The infected are more active at night. A quick acting evolutionary behavior to avoid the scorching heat of the Mexican sun, to preserve the decaying host for longer.

"No." The man replies, voice deep and buttery. "Canned food can last for years past it's expiry date."

Something moves outside, kickstarting your heart. Some infected still wander out during the day. Your hands are sweating, making it hard to hold the gun. Valeria tried to teach you how to hold a gun once. You were never comfortable around them though. You peer outside, ears too sensitive in the unnatural quiet. A thin stray dog runs past the window. Clumps of fur missing from mange. You relax. Rotters will attack and eat any animal they catch but so far, you haven't seen any animals actually get infected with the disease. You shudder at the idea of running from a pack of infected strays. Their frothing jaws hung open, breath sour with illness. Sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

"Hurry it up, Grace." The man growls. He was a military officer; despite that he has no patience. You don't care for him. He reminds you of Valeria.

Grace shoves cans into her duffel bags. Filling them so much that she struggles with the zipper.

"If you want this to be faster then maybe you should be doing this, Rojan." She growls. Hoisting the heavy bags up and adjusting them on her shoulders. Rojan doesn't reply. Just stares out the window stoically. On the other side of the small supermarket, another man looks through magazines instead of being useful. Holding them up in the sparse light to leer at the women on the pages.

You and your small group move on. Exiting the store. The sun is hot and unforgiving. The ground beneath your feet is dry and cracked. Only the toughest of weeds able to grow from the pavement.

"What are we going to do for shelter?" Grace asks. Walking alongside Rojan. You lag behind, at the tail end of the group just behind the man who was looking at magazines instead of finding food. He turns and glances at you. Sizing you up. Both you and Grace have made it very clear you're not interested. Though there's a lack of women around and he hasn't quite given up yet.

He slows his pace to walk beside you. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It makes you sweat just looking at him.

"We might have to sleep outside tonight." He says. You wish he wouldn't talk to you.

"No we won't." You reply with disinterest. "Rojan would never make us camp outside." It's just simply too dangerous.

"Well," He starts. "If we do you and I could share a spot to keep warm."

You roll your eyes. It gets absurdly cold at night but even then, you'd rather kiss a rotter than cuddle up to him. "Pass, Arthur." 

Arthur doesn't seem perturbed by your prickly nature.

"It's not like you'd lose anything by being with me for a night." He argues. Up ahead, Grace and Rojan are deep in conversation, heads close together. You wish you could join them instead of being stuck with Arthur.

"I'm a lesbian." You grit out. Even if you weren't, you still wouldn't touch Arthur.

He pauses and you start relaxing, assuming he's going to back off. "Why does that matter?" He asks. "I'm not asking for a relationship; you don't have to be attracted to me to sleep with me."

"Arthur!" Grace barks, turning her head to scowl at him. He looks up at her. "Cut that shit out, she's not interested. I'm not interested, nobody here is interested."

Arthur considers her and moves away from you silently. You give Grace a thankful nod.

Night begins to fall. Your legs ache with each step as you walk, the bag on your back feels like it gained ten extra pounds. Finally, Rojan slows to a stop outside of a small house. The windows have been broken but boards fill in the empty space. The screen door swings in the slight wind, creaking as it does. Weeds and tall grass have dominated the small front yard and somewhere hidden within, flies buzz loudly. Congregating over something dead.

"We'll stay here for the night." Rojan says. He looks at each of you. Pointing at you and Arthur. "Help me make sure it's clear." 

You slowly creep inside. The interior is just as rundown as the outside. A dank, musty smell coats the damp-stained walls and fungus pops up from dark corners. You walk by the living room and startle. In the corner, facing the wall is a rotter. It's back turned to you. The skin is flayed and painful looking. Deep gashes litter it's skin. It's stationary. Unmoving apart from a slight sway. 

You don't know if you should risk making noise shooting it. You look to the front of you as Rojan disappears around the corner. You frown and look back at the rotter. A bullet would be loud and might wake and draw any dormant rotters in the area. You slowly holster your gun and unsheathe your hunting knife. Approaching the rotter like a predator. Remembering what Rojan taught you. Sweep out the legs - which won't be hard considering how emaciated they look - and quickly stab into the temple. You take another step, and the floor loudly creaks under your weight. You and the rotter both go still. The lax swaying coming to an abrupt halt.

You wait, heart beating in your ears. The seconds feel long but the rotter never turns, and you resume your creeping. You come right up behind it and recoil at the smell. Unwashed body mixed with overripe fruit, sickly and decaying. You shake your head and build up your courage. Finally, you kick out it's legs and ignore the very human grunt. Grabbing one side of it's head, you stab your knife into the soft spot in it's temple, cutting of the beginning of a shrill squeal. It drops, becoming dead weight in your arms. You lower it to the grown and let it drop.

The small home is cleared just in time for the sun to begin setting. The group sits in the living room. Silent and eating. Even Arthur is keeping his mouth shut. As the sky darkens, the sound of shuffling gets louder. The rotters have awoken. A few of them call out eerie pleas for help. That's what disturbs you the most; the mimicking. Back at the start you had mistakenly opened your door, assuming the woman crying for help on the other side was human. She wasn't. You had been tackled to the floor trying to fight her off. A lucky shove sent her flying into the table, snapping her neck and stunning her enough for you to bash her head in. You don't respond to calls for help anymore.

You have first watch. Your eyes droop and you fight hard to keep them open. Grace's soft snoring does nothing to help you. You're leaning against the wall. Your name gets called, startling you awake. Your heart throbs in your chest as you listen, ears ringing from the silence. Were you hallucinating? It doesn't come again. A few footsteps sound close to the boarded-up window. Maybe one of the rotters said something that sounded like your name. That's what you decide but it freaks you out enough to keep you awake.

Your group moves on promptly at sunrise. Most of the rotters having hidden themselves in shadows and buildings to hibernate for the day. It's another scorcher. Sweat wets your brow as you walk, legs aching from fatigue. Your tired stumbling reminds you of the rotters.

"Water." Arthur says. Rojan reaches into the side of his pack for the communal water bottle without stopping and holds it out behind him. Arhtur takes it and you watch him carefully from the corner of your eye to make sure he isn't taking too much. Water is a valuable commodity. Getting drinkable water is a hassle. If you can't find any bottled water stashed somewhere, you have to boil some from rivers. You lag behind a little. Overheating and exhausted from having to stay up all night.

You halt as you hear movement beside you. Your group progresses on, leaving you behind as you stare into the shadowy alley. Not a brick is out of place. You hurry your steps and catch up with your group. You're just tired and paranoid.

You sit with your back to your front door as Valeria pounds on it. Shaking the weak wood with every hit.

"Open the fucking door!" She yells. You put your head down and cover your ears, every single limb fizzling with nervous energy. You and Valeria have had a... tumultuous relationship. On and off, fighting, making up. You finally called it off for good and denied her when she tried to win you back. Valeria's never been able to leave you alone though.

She hits the door again.

"Please, mi vida, open the door." Her voice softens. It's forced. 

"Go away, Valeria!" You yell back, worried she'll break down the door. You don't know what she'll do if she makes it inside and that scares you.

"For fuck's sake!" She snarls, dropping the nice act. "I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't open this door!"

You shut your eyes and count. Trying to calm yourself down.

The faded red door and empty flowerpots are uncomfortably familiar. You feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Unfortunately for you, Rojan deems it suitable. He and Grace clear it and you and Arthur enter once they confirm it's empty. You cast a glance at the decayed woman on the floor, head mashed to a pulp. You're disturbed to find chunks missing from her. The other's congregate in the living room but you wander down the hall and take a left. Pushing open the closed door. The bedroom is full of dirt and dust. The curtains nothing but moth-eaten tatters now. You wander to the nightstand and lower yourself down to your knees, the carpet damp and spongy. You reach under and pull out a box, running your fingers over the gold trim. Clearing dust off the lid. You open it and pull things out. Birthday cards, baby teeth. Polaroids. You and Valeria smile up from the picture tauntingly. She has a firm grip on your waist, keeping you pressed against her.

Flowers get shoved in your face, startling you out of your skin. You stare at Valeria like a deer in headlights. Behind her lurks two dangerous looking men. Protection or intimidation? You can guess which.

"I'm sorry." Valeria murmurs, forcing you to take the flowers. "I know you're upset but I also know you're not done with me. Just stop with this little angry act and take me back."

"What? No." You frown. "Valeria, we are not good together."

Valeria ignores your words and grabs your arms gently. "I love you." She says, looking at you intensely. "I love you so much that it makes me sick. It makes me angry. You did this to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We are it for each other, why can't you understand that?"

You put the picture back down and hide it under a few others. Ones without Valeria in them. It's all history and at the end of the world, history means nothing. You join the others as they finish up their meal of canned sausage. You don't ask for any, no longer having an appetite. You're still exhausted though. Settling yourself on your couch. It's filthy but you still gleam a small sense of comfort from it. It doesn't take you long to drift off. Lulled by the quiet chattering of your companions.

You aren't sure what woke you first. The shattering of glass, or Grace's panicked curse. Nobody remains a heavy sleeper when there's a constant threat outside. The whole group is startled awake. It doesn't take long for the rushed steps of the rotters to be heard. You freeze. Watching as Grace shoots one but gets tackled by another. Filthy teeth sink into her throat. Both Arthur and Rojan aim and take down a few. One of the rotters slinks in-between them and heads right towards you. You're horrified to see Valeria's face glaring back at you. She barrels right into you, crushing you under her weight and pinning you down to the couch. You feel bile stinging your throat.

You slam into the floor as Valeria slams the door shut in your face. Your body is already on overdrive and in your adrenaline induced haze you decide Valeria did that on purpose. It doesn't help that she immediately crowds you. Her warm hands latching onto you, her smell overwhelming you.

"Get off!" You hiss, kicking at her.

"I'm sorry." She growls. Maneuvering you onto your back. You can't move, you can't leave. You're trapped in this stressful situation. A claustrophobic panic kicks in. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you can't run out every time you argue - stop struggling!" Valeria says with anger.

"You're hurting me right now!" You try to wrench yourself away from her but only end up pulling a muscle.

"You cannot leave me." She replies, sounding hurt and desperate. Her tone scares you more than anything. "I'm sorry, just stop struggling and we can talk, please."

The sound of flesh tearing is seared into your memory. The screaming stopped after only a few seconds, but you think you'll remember it for the rest of your left. Valeria keeps you crushed under her firmly. The reek of decay permeates through the air. It's so thick you worry you'll get infected just breathing in. Through a gap in her limbs, you watch the rotters in a frenzy. Ripping your group apart like animals. Something cold caresses the side of your neck, startling you. It's Valeria running her fingers along your neck. She says your name. Voice distorted and growly. It sounds like it hurts to speak.

A salty tear rolls down your cheek as you stare blankly at the massacre. Grace's head bobs slightly as a rotter feeds on her intestines. Her eyes stare back at you lifelessly.

The wood trembles.

"Open the fucking door!"

You raise your head from your hands and look at the wall, you don't know what to do. The pounding stops. Valeria's voice is muffled but clearly aggressive as she speaks to someone.

"You're sick." She exclaims, disgusted... and afraid. "Fuck. Open the door." She repeats. Valeria doesn't sound angry anymore, she sounds urgent. "Open the door, someone sick is staring me down, open the door now." 

You've never heard her sound frightened before. This disease is frightening though. You haven't seen one of the sick in person before but just the symptoms were enough to scare you.

A bite or bodily fluid was all it took. Doctors said incubation was from anywhere between an hour to three days. It started with a fever, intense mood swings, violent behavior, thirst and hunger. Sores sprouted up on the body. Eventually they would pustulate and then rot. Then the virus made it's way through the brainstem and effectively killed the frontal lobe while triggering the amygdala. Turning the host into an animal. Valeria calls your name.

"Please open this door, I know you're mad at me, but you can't leave me out here with that thing." 

You're very tempted to open the door but you can't move. You're frozen to the spot.

"Get back!" Valeria snaps. Startling you. "Take another step and I'll shoot you."

The infected care not for the threat of a gun. Shots are fired, loud and earsplitting. Something hard thumps to the ground and Valeria screams.

You feel sick.

"I know you're mad at me, please open this door." She whispers into your hair. Every second you wait for her to bite. To tear into your vulnerable flesh, but she doesn't. "I didn't mean to hurt you, please open this door." Valeria brushes her face against your cheek. Something wet transferring onto yours. "I'm sorry, it makes me sick. I love you." Valeria tightens her grip on you. Shielding you from the horror in the living room. After being infected and dying she tracked you down. She got rid of the only people you had left. There is nowhere you could hide that she wouldn't find you. Dead or alive, she's yours.

[kazumiwrites-fanfiction]

You Can't Swim??

SUMMARY: The Octotrio don't know that you have never learned to swim. And you went to a beach. What could go wrong? WORD COUNT: 1.9k (I need to sleep)

WARNINGS: Floyd almost let you drown, reader kind of gets panic attacks? Idk (I'm the writer I should know, someone hit me), reader thinks about whacking Floyd, Azul is genuinely in love, Azul is also very traumatized I think, Azul overthinks A/N: Gotta love how I have no warnings about Jade I- Gotta love getting a fic idea about me being unable to swim- And I've had this thought swimming (lol) in my thoughts for a couple of days?? Idk if reader is the significant other of these guys or just besties. I think it leans toward s/o though This reads like a crack fic to me but honestly make sure you know how to swim so you don't die (i don't but that's not the point here) Maybe OOC Jade because he hides himself too well for me to get an accurate read on personality lmfao When Jade is genuinely sweet but the others are unhinged so naturally the unhinged ones are longer- I'm sorry I get no decent ideas for Jade </3 Another late late night post (it's 1:50 AM)

© kazumiwrites - All rights reserved; please do not steal, edit, copy, repost (etc) my work without my express permission.

You had never learned to swim. It wasn't that you were afraid, really. It was just that you had passed the age where people normally learned, and now you were too lazy to and/or didn't have enough time. Whatever excuse to stop a nagging person.

Now, this wouldn't have been a problem if you never went anywhere near bodies of water. Which you mostly didn't. However, knowing merfolk was not the best idea if you didn't know how to swim.

Now you have gone to the beach with him, and that probably wasn't the best idea for either of you.

Floyd Leech

You had been sitting on the beach near the water, absently looking over some shells as Floyd splashed around deeper in the ocean. The shells really were interesting - nothing like the ones where you had come from (although they had some similarities) and were colorful. So many shapes and varieties, although most were not intact.

You had been so engrossed in this, in fact, that you hadn't realized Floyd had been sneaking up on you. Before you could say another word, he playfully dragged you into the water. While you were fully clothed.

You weren't expecting to go into the water, but you should've known better with Floyd. He was playful and loved to do stuff like this. Usually if Azul was around, he'd have done something… But he wasn't here.

Before you knew it, you were deeper in the ocean than you ever had been before, courtesy to the teal-haired boy swimming and dragging you along. You flailed around a bit, eyes wide in panic. You were, quite honestly, terrified. And it obviously didn't help when Floyd just immediately let you go.

Was he an idiot or was he an idiot?

"Floyd-" You got out before coughing as water shot up your nose, still flailing miserably. It didn't work. You didn't know what to do. Surely, Floyd would help… If he realized what was going on. No matter what you thought, he was bright, wasn't he?

Not bright enough, it seemed, as he was still laughing and not realizing how actually panicked you were.

"Koebi-chan, you look so ridiculous like that," he laughed, almost in hysterics, and you would've smacked him if you weren't so close to actually dying.

And then you sunk.

Your desperate attempts to go to the surface were pointless as you didn't even know how to float or move around in the water.

After a few seconds, Floyd finally noticed you were gone and quickly dove under the surface. Maybe you were trying to get him back?

But his gaze immediately widened as he saw you literally sinking to the ocean floor. His eel tail moved quickly, almost without thinking as he shot to grab you and take you up, up, up so you could actually breathe.

When you came to, you were on the sandy beach again, Floyd leaning over you. His eyes, normally filled with a joking light, were unusually subdued.

"Koebi-chan, why didn't you tell me you couldn't swim?" A pout grew on Floyd's face. "If I knew, I wouldn't have-"

"Yes you would have. We would still be here, just having a different conversation."

"But-"

"No buts."

"I would've made it more fun-"

"Drowning in the ocean is the opposite of fun, Floyd-"

~Bonus because I don't know how to fit one into the story~ "I can teach you how to swim. You just go whoo and let your body move. Y'know. Like dancing." "No, I don't know, Floyd, and this is not going to help me with anything-"

Jade Leech

Jade had been spending his time on the beach with you, but you were almost certain that he wanted to be swimming in the ocean. It was his natural element, after all.

"Jade, you sure you don't want to go in the water?"

"I'm fine staying here with you, [Y/N]." He gave you a soft smile.

You shook your head. "We've come all the way here, you might as well go swim." You gave him a gentle nudge.

"Well, I'd like you to come with me, if that is possible?" He watched you quietly. "You never go swimming with me."

You paused. Although it was sweet that he wanted you to go with him… "No, I don't think so…" You trailed off. You never liked telling people that you couldn't swim. At this point, it was embarrassing.

The pair of heterochromia eyes staring at you only left you feeling more jittery. "…I, er… I can't swim. So going into the ocean with you sounds kind of like… A bad idea." You froze. "Did you use your Signature Spell on me?"

"Of course not, [Y/N]." Jade stared at you with eyes of hurt, one that looked almost identical to that of his twin's. Only, it was almost obvious that Jade didn't mean the hurt in his eyes. "You just trust me enough to say things to me."

You couldn't deny the truth there. You trusted Jade. "And you wouldn't use your Signature Spell on something so trivial, would you?"

"No, I would not." He shrugged. "On a different note, I can help you learn how to swim."

"I really don't need it-"

"What if someone tries to hurt you one day and they know your weakness?"

"Why would-"

"It's an example, [Y/N]. But if that person decides to do that, you wouldn't be able to do anything. So I should help you in case that scenario occurs."

You sighed softly. "Fine, I guess I can take lessons from you… If it's not too much of a hassle."

"Of course it would not be a hassle or anything of the sort." Jade inclined his head. "All to help you stay safe."

The day went on with Jade helping you learn the basics of swimming - he was a good teacher, which you were happy about. He was patient, and always was there if you ever started to panic.

"We wouldn't want you getting scared of the ocean now, would we?"

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had gotten used to you after a couple months. Sure, he hadn't opened up to many people in a while (only Floyd and Jade, but they also teased him constantly about everything, so), but you were soothing and nice. Sure, you teased him sometimes, but it was different. It didn't feel mean, you stopped as soon as you noticed him looking a little uncomfortable, and… He honestly felt like he could open up about anything.

So when it was decided that you two were going to the beach - together - alone? It kind of made him very messed up.

Would you like being at the beach with him? He wasn't completely against showing his octopus form… Would you want him to swim with you? Was he even ready for that?

Those thoughts led him down a spiral, and the day you two were to go, he had bags under his eyes and looked like he was half-dead.

You gently nudged him, murmuring how he should've tried to get more sleep for this day supposedly filled with fun, but he just shrugged.

Soon, you were at the beach, and as Azul saw your smiling face, his gaze softened a little. He loved seeing your happy face.

"C'mon!" You grabbed Azul's hand as you started to run to the water, ignoring his surprised stumbling as he was dragged along. He had a light flush on his cheeks that he was glad you couldn't see.

Soon, you had reached the edge of the water, splashing around in your sandals. It was really fun, even though you knew that you were going to be getting sand in your toes later on.

Azul just kind of watched on, a relaxed expression on his face. This really was soothing… Although he was still thinking about if the Mostro Lounge would be okay with him gone. Surely Jade would do something if Floyd got into trouble… Hopefully. And hopefully, no more dishes would break.

"What are you looking so glum for?" Your voice brought him back to his senses.

"Nothing, just hoping that Jade and Floyd can take care of things at the Mostro Lounge." He sighed softly.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be fine. Jade's there, right?"

"He can cause as much trouble as Floyd, you know. Although he won't be outright about it." Azul shook his head, a small frown on his face.

"C'mon, turn that frown upside down." You moved closer to him, gently squishing his cheeks. "Today is for having fun, Azul."

"Yes, yes, I know." Azul couldn't help himself; he let out a soft laugh. A genuine one.

You smiled brightly. "You aren't charging me for hearing your little cute laugh?"

"I will charge you if you call it cute."

"Of course you will." You rolled your eyes before abruptly changing the subject. "So are you not going to swim?"

Azul paused. Did you want him to swim? To see his true form? There was an even chance. What should his answer be? "Er… I don't know?"

"Of course you don't have to, Azul, I just thought… I mean, there's no one around." You shrugged a little.

And now more pressure on Azul. Great. He was used to dealing with pressure, yes. Just not this kind from you. "Er… Would you come swim with me?" If you were with him, then maybe…

"No." Your lips parted, maybe to offer an explanation, but it was too late.

Azul was in a downward spiral. Why had you said no? Perhaps octopi merfolk were really too much. Perhaps you would rather be with someone with a pretty tailfin than tentacles. Or maybe a human, one of your own kind. Who said that you even liked him at all? Perhaps you were only with him out of pity, because he was that useless, chubby, good-for-nothing-

"Azul? Azul, are you listening to me?"

He snapped back to attention.

"Seriously, are you okay? Did you seriously get enough sleep last night?" You sighed.

"That's none of your-"

"It is if you're literally zoning out every five seconds." You rolled your eyes. "And anyway, I was just saying that I kind of can't go deeper into the ocean where you probably feel comfortable swimming. Because I can't swim." You shrugged nonchalantly.

But for Azul, it felt like a figurative bomb had been dropped.

You? Couldn't swim? Now that he thought about it, it did make sense… How you always looked so awkward and uncomfortable with water, especially when you came to the Octavinelle dorm. But seriously? How could you not know how to swim?

"Is not knowing how to swim… Normal?"

"Definitely not." You rolled your eyes. "But I'm just too lazy to learn now. And I have no time."

"You do if you have time to scroll on Magicam." Finally, Azul felt a bit better. At least you didn't hate him.

"And this time, I'll teach you how to swim. I'll even do it free of charge." Azul shook his head. "Seeing as I'm so generous."

"You sound like headmage Crowley."

"Do be quiet."

Azul was a pretty good teacher. He ended up not turning into his octopus form until nearly the end of the day, you were practicing your swimming and then just playing around on the sand, building sand castles, anything that you might do at a normal beach outing.

His octopus form was beautiful (as expected), and although you couldn't go to deeper waters, you enjoyed seeing him swim around, always eventually coming back to you.

"Today was truly relaxing, [Y/N]. We should do this again another time."

As always, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! ♡ Send your thoughts grr

Feel free to send requests! Check out this post for info ^^

[k1ttef1a]

PLEASE PART 2 OF THE OPPOSITES ATTRACT FIC🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

Opposite's Attract 2! |Johnnie G.

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert x fem! reader

warnings: none

summary: you and johnnie go on the date.

a/n: I know everyone has been asking for part two of 'opposites attract' so here you go 👐

"Holy shit!" Johnnie said to Jake, it was the day of your guys first "date". Johnnie was nervous because he had never been on a date. "Johnnie you're gonna be fine, didn't she say that she liked your style? I'm sure she'll like your personality too." Jake said to Johnnie, trying to calm his nerves.

"I mean yeah but what if she thinks I'm weir-" Johnnie gets cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing, it was 'y/n🌷', the contact name he gave you. " Oh my god, oh my god-" said anxiously, putting down his makeup brush and grabbing his phone. "WHAT DO I DO?!" "ANSWER IT YOU DUMB BITCH!" Jake said. "Hello?" Johnnie said to you, his voice slightly cracking when he said hello, he hoped you didn't hear it. "Hi Johnnie! I was just making sure we were still meeting up at the mall at 4?" you said questioning. "Yeah! we're still meeting up, I'm almost done getting ready." He said lying through his teeth, he just started getting ready. "Ok I'll see you in a bit, byeee!" the phone call ended. "I'M SUCH A FUCKING LIAR!" Johnnie said, slapping his hands to his head. "You're literally almost done with your hair and your makeup doesn't take long what do you mean you aren't ready?" "NO" Johnnie blurted. "I'M NOT MENTALLY PREPARED TO SEE HER AGAIN."

...

Johnnie had finally arrived, having Jake drive him since he didn't have his license and he didn't want to spend money getting an Uber. His heart pounded at the thought of seeing you again, your beauty, your grace, your kindness. Everything about you made him scream in his head.

"Johnnie!" You said speed walking towards him, snapping him out of his trance, you hugged him as a greeting which made him flinch for a second. He wasn't used to that kind of affection but he wasn't complaining about it. "It's nice to see you again." You said, smiling at Johnnie like he was a million dollars. "It's nice to see you again too." Johnnie said rubbing his arm, trying not to stumble on his words.

"Have you eaten today? There's this cafe I think you'd really like." You asked, he was hungry, practically starving but since he was picky he was slightly nervous to say yes. "No I haven't actually, ummm sure, yeah let's go." He said, you smiled brightly and started leading him to the cafe.

...

You and Johnnie were sitting in a small booth in one of the corners. You had convinced Johnnie to try one of the chicken sandwiches you liked from the menu he took a bite out of the sandwich and he was surprised, it was actually really good. " Woah, this actually tastes good, like really good." Johnnie said, talking with food in his mouth. You smiled. "I'm glad you like it, that's one of my favorites but I decided to get my second favorite."

Silence fell between you too leaving you both in your thoughts. "He looks really nice today, I wonder what he does for work?" You thought to yourself, playing with your hair. "Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, this is so awkward I just want her to say something, anything!" He thought, anxiously. "So what do you do for work again?" You asked. " Oh I'm a YouTuber and make music once in awhile." "WAIT. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU MADE MUSIC TOO, THAT'S AMAZING!" You said, practically jumping out of the booth.

"So what kind of music do you make?" You asked him, now fully paying attention to his career. "I make kind of alternative music I think?"

...

You and Johnnie were now walking around the mall, trying to find something to do when you guys walked past a very...cutesy store, which made your eyes sparkle.

Johnnie saw the shine in your eyes. "Do you wanna go there?" He said, pointing at the store. "Yes!" And before he could say anything you grabbed his hand gently and walked into the store.

You were looking around as he followed you awkwardly. You had a couple pins, keychains, and small cute figures for your room.

You walked to the checkout and you put all of your stuff on the counter. As you were paying, Johnnie kind you looked at everyone, how you looked at everyone and everything with glowing eyes that held millions of stars in them, how you looked at nobody with judgement.

...

As you drove Johnnie home from the mall it was an awkward silence so you turned on your Spotify playlist, but it started playing one of his songs his most recent song, 'Vampire.'

He immediately looked at you but you were focused on the road but your eyes were widened more and your face was more flushed then before. He didn't say anything though, he liked the fact that she enjoyed his music.

You guys finally made it to the shared house him and Jake both lived in. You both got out of the car and you walked him to the front door. "I had a lot of fun today with you." he said ruffling his hair, which was an anxious habit he had. "I had a lot of fun today with you too, Johnnie. I hope we can do this again soon." You said. He just smiled, he didn't want you to leave but he didn't want you to stay either, not when he was like this, not when he was choked up on what to say because he was thinking about the fact he had just gone on a date with you. "Well I guess I should go, you probably have a really busy day tomorrow." You said, playing with your jewelry. "Yeah..." He said under his breath. He watched as you walked to your car, sad to see you leave.

You rolled down the passenger seat window. "Call me when you get the chance, we should hang out sometime soon!" You said, hoping that he would call you later.

"I will!" He screamed from the front door, as he watched you drive a way.

He had a feeling that this would be a recurring thing.

☆ this was requested by @anonymous! I know it's been awhile since I've posted a fanfic but I'm back and I'm gonna TRY and post more, my requests are open! ☆

[damianbugs]

If you r still doing the fic recs, what are some good Bruce and Jason ones? I'm going insane

HELLO. oh my gosh. you know, since exam month has officially begun, i should be studying, but like, why would i do that when i could be doing this instead? this is like. so much more productive for my happiness.

it's no secret i am not normal absolutely totally insane about bruce and jason and OF COURSE i will rec you fics of them. i have 150+ bookmarks of fics just centred around them so i really tried to narrow it down to a few of my favourites. if you ever need anymore please ask again!

what a truly disastrous tragedy they are. the blueprint i fear. no fictional father and son has impacted me more. jason and bruce fic writers lace their works in crack because once you read one, you are stuck forever. there is no escape. trust me. anyways!

BRUCE AND JASON FIC RECS

don't take your guns to town by kreestar

batman comes home from a night patrolling to find a 10 year old jason todd waiting for him in his kitchen. across gotham, at the same time, red hood is stopped by a 25 year old bruce wayne.

MY NOTES: no one is surprised at all that the first fic on this list is time travel. the characterisation in this was insanely good especially between young bruce and jason i loved their parts. so bittersweet and the ending was lovely!

I Will Always Be There For You by squashflower

There's a closet in the manor that locks you inside. It has no lighting or heating or air conditioning of any kind, and Jason, safe to say, wishes he could burn it to the ground. Or shoot it. One of the two.

MY NOTES: there is just something so good about stories where it switches from robin jason to an experience mirrored by red hood jason and this is the perfect example. so so good.

all the small weights by sparkycap

When Batman gets hit with fear toxin, he worries about his Robins. His Robins think it's their job to deal with it. Jason wasn't aware anyone still included him in that group, but according to Tim, he's the only one available.

MY NOTES: fear toxin the trope that keeps on giving. best thing about this though is that the actual fear toxin is not the main part of the story, and i think it was handled so beautifully and maturely in a way i haven't seen before. i cried (twice).

-> just an aside, but i think you should read the other bruce and jason work by this specific writer. they're all insanely good.

Mermaid Tears by minnow_doodle_doo

And if real mermaid tears were what Jason wanted the world to have, Bruce would make Aquaman cry glass.

MY NOTES: teehee sorry for recommending ur own fic in ur ask minnow but this fic is just so sweet and special i need everyone to read it. a wonderful look into that all encompassing love bruce had for jason when things were much simpler for them.

Aftermath by ivy_and_ivory

Now: Batman is in Paris, pulled there by a case that extends beyond Gotham’s borders, when circumstances lead him to a badly injured Red Hood – who might hold the key to Batman’s investigation.

Then: The Red Hood storms into Gotham, begins to stake his claim on the criminal underground, then abruptly disappears – but only after he breaks into Arkham Asylum and leaves the Joker dead in his own cell.

Or: A study of why Bruce couldn’t kill the Joker, what would happen if someone else could – and how you move on from the aftermath.

MY NOTES: you know when you find a fic and you're just like. oh my god. this is it. this is exactly what i wanted. this is all that matters. yeah. that's this fic to me. im sort of obsessed with the idea of batman bonding with red hood without making the direct connection that it's jason.

A Straight Blade by Sparkypants

"What happened to your face?" Bruce asks, reaching his hand for Jason's jaw. "You're bleeding." Jason bristles, cheeks turning pink. "I cut myself shaving." He says, and wipes at the cut with the cuff of his hoody. Damian makes a clicking noise with his tongue, "I'm amazed you haven't taken your own head off." He snarks. Jason shoves his chair away from the table, temper flaring. "Well it's not like anyone ever taught me, is it." He hisses. He's five years late, but Bruce finally teaches Jason how to shave.

MY NOTES: i am so okay so normal about this fic. such a sweet little happy story but i was literally looking down at my screen squinting through my blurry vision because i was tearing up. the unknowing domestic simplicities of being father and son (hysterical sobbing)

Stargazer by LemonadeGarden

Jason Todd is seriously injured during patrol one night, and is forced to stay at the manor to recuperate until his injuries are healed. To pass the time, he makes a list of things he never got to do before he died. Except there's one small problem: most of them involve Bruce, and Jason doesn't really think Bruce cares all that much about him anymore. This is a story about how wrong he is, but I made it sad anyway.

MY NOTES: okay so i think the best way to end this post is with the first ever bruce and jason centric work i ever read that changed the chemicals in my brain forever. THIS is the fic that made me really latch onto their relationship and want to see that reconciliation and recovery. THE roadtrip fic ever.

[gunilslaugh]

Cassette Playlist

Goo Gunil

Summary: Your mom’s old cassette player somehow sent you back to the summer of 1990, where you meet a goofy, yet confident guy. Who might make it hard to leave. (non-idol au) 

WC:11.6k

Warning:none

If this flops I'm never writing a long fic ever again lol

photo not mine credits to owner.

CRASH! SNAP! CRACK! Panic rages through your body as you stare at your mom’s old cassette player that is now in pieces.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And why exactly have you decided to take a trip down memory lane?” you asked your mom. Letting out a heave as you set the heavy box down on your mom’s bed. 

“I watched Jetsons: The Movie yesterday and it got me feeling nostalgic,” your mom answers you, taking off the lid to the box. “My old cassette player!” your mom called out excitedly as she pulled the old device from the box. “I used to use this all the time,” she tells you. 

“I can tell. You used it so much it cracked.” You pointed to the crack that ran across the lid to insert a cassette. 

“I don’t remember it having a crack actually.” Your mom scratched her head trying to remember if she was forgetting how the player got the crack. 

“Maybe it happened while it was stored. We’re not always gentle with these boxes,” you chuckled. 

“You’re right that could be what happened. We should be more gentle with these,” she states gesturing to the boxes.

“I wonder if it still works?” you wondered, taking the cassette player from your mom. 

“It would definitely need batteries,” she says tapping the battery compartment. “We don’t have the type of batteries it takes right now. I’ll pick some up when I go to the store.”

“You still remember what batteries it takes?” You raised one of your eyebrows in shock. Your mom laughs. 

“I told you I used to use it all the time. I’ll probably never forget what batteries it takes. I bet I could still use this in my sleep,” she affirms. 

“I might have to test you on that,” you said playfully. Your mom smiles and shakes her head, looking into the box again. You join her in looking at the contents of the box. “Is this your year book?” you questioned pulling the book from the box.

“Yeah it’s from my junior year? I think.” You open the book, flipping through its pages. You stopped flipping through the pages when a picture of your mom with some guy caught your attention. Your mom had her arms affectionately wrapped around the guy’s middle. Her head tilted in the direction of the guy too.

“And who is this? One of your old boyfriends?” You nudge your mom with your elbow, showing her the picture.

“Oh um I think his name started with a G. I can’t remember right now, but no he wasn’t my boyfriend, not even a friend really. He was more like a nice acquaintance,” she informs. 

“So this picture is just for show?” you said. 

“Pretty much. That was the first day we met actually,” she tells you. You look at her with your head tilting to the side, as if asking her to explain more. 

“He came up behind me and gave me a really tight back hug. I pushed him away harshly because I didn’t know who he was. Then he began to profusely apologize explaining that he mistook me for someone else,” your mom tells you the story. 

“Oh my gosh that’s embarrassing. I would have died if I was him,” you laughed. 

“Yeah I felt bad for him. Anyway people for the yearbook were coming around, so I pulled him into this side hug to make us even,” she further explained. 

“How kind of you,” you remarked half sarcastically. To which your mom playfully shrugged in response. “Did he ever say who he mistook you for?” you questioned. 

“You’re so nosy and no I never asked,” she tells you. 

“Oh.” you look back down at the picture, wondering who this guy could have mistook your mom for.

After taking the little trip down memory lane you and your mom put the aged objects back inside the boxes, leaving out the cassette player since your mom was going to pick up batteries for it. Then you returned the boxes back to their places in the top shelf of the closet. Proceeding you returned to your bedroom to carry on with your day. You hopped onto your bed, opening your laptop to look for a show to watch. 

Later in the day your mom returned home from running some errands: buying groceries and batteries. You helped your mom put the groceries away. Once all the groceries were placed in their spots your mom excitedly ran to her bedroom to grab her old cassette player. 

“You’re like an excited kid who’s ready to play with their new toy,” you remark. “Well, I guess it’s an old toy in this case,” you added. 

“I am excited,” she states matter-of-factly, opening up the batteries she recently bought. She then opens the battery compartment of the cassette player and carefully places the batteries inside, making sure they're facing the right direction.  Succeeding hearing the satisfying click of the battery compartment closing your mom eagerly places one of the headphones into her ear then holds out the other one for you. You take it from her hand and place it into your ear. She looks at you to make sure you’re ready with her finger hovering over the play button. You nodded at her in confirmation and with that your mom pressed the button. Music began to play from the head phones filling the two of your ears. Your mom begins to excitedly jump up and down at her favorite nostalgic item still working. A smile makes its way to your face as you watch your mom’s happiness. While feeling impressed that the old device still works. 

“This brings back memories,” your mom says reminiscently as she listens to the song. 

“This song is nice,” you comment. 

“You like it?” your mom asked. You nodded your head. 

“You should keep this for a while then,” she suggested. 

“Huh? Why?” Your eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“It made me really happy as a teen. I would like to make you happy too. You’re a bit older than I was when I first got it, but that’s ok,” she explains. 

“Ok sure, why not?” you agreed. 

“Ooh I’ll go grab my other cassette so you can listen to them,” she takes the headphone from her ear before scurrying off to go grab the cassette. When she returns with the cassettes in hand she hands them over with a smile. You didn’t really know how much you would use the cassette player, but you figured you could at least listen to each cassette once. See what kind of music your mom used to listen to. You hit the stop of the cassette player and took off your headphone. You wrapped the headphones around the player as you walked to your room. You set the player on your bedside dresser planning to listen to it later.

Later in the evening you helped your mom make dinner. While waiting for your dad to get back from work. Your dad got home while you were dishing up dinner. 

“Perfect timing,” your mom said, greeting him. You all sat at the table together. “I gave y/n my old cassette player today,” your mom tells. 

“Oh really? That thing still works?” your dad asked surprised. 

“Just like it used to,” your mom says. 

“Except for the crack across the front,” you said. 

“I told you I don’t remember it having a crack. It’s a mystery how it got there,” she states. 

“Guess we’ll never know,” your dad shrugged. You all continued to eat, having the occasional side conversation. After dinner you did the dishes then headed to your room. You sat down on your bed. Your eyes fell over to your mom’s old cassette player. You reached over to your dresser and grabbed it, unwrapping the headphones around it. You put one headphone in each ear and hit play on the cassette. Music filled your ears and you rested against your headboard becoming fully immersed in the music. A couple songs played then you came across a song that you really liked. You wanted to listen to it again so you hit the rewind button, but nothing happened. You hit it again and once more nothing happened. You tried again only to be met with the same result. Growing a bit frustrated you smack the cassette player in hopes of getting it to work. You hit the rewind button another time and this time you hear the song begin to reverse. However your room began to look blurry. Like when you pass by something really fast. Then suddenly it all stopped and you were standing in a park? There were some kids running around playing on some playground equipment. Parents sitting on benches. A couple teenage boys were kicking a ball around out in the open grass. You walked around the park stopping under the shade of a tree, trying to gather your senses. Did you fall asleep while you were listening to the cassette? That’s when you notice that the cassette is in your hand and headphones are still in your ears. Much to your surprise the cassette player had been fixed. There was no longer a crack running across it. How was that possible? Was this all just a dream? Right then a ball lands by your feet. 

“Sorry, could you kick it back please?” you hear. You looked up to see one of the teenage boys. You looked back down at the ball then back at the boy. You gave the ball a swift kick sending it back over. “Thanks!” the boy shouted. You nodded in response. Quickly you went back to trying to figure out what was going on. This didn’t really feel like it was a dream, but what else could it be? You look around at your surroundings again. This time you notice that all the clothes people are wearing look like they're from the 90s. Certainly this was all a really weird dream. You began to leave the park not really knowing where you were going. Just trying to find some answers. Hopefully some confirmation that this was all indeed one weird dream. As you were walking you happened to come across a discarded newspaper. You pick it up and flip it around. Your eyes widened as they saw the date: June 3, 1990. You couldn’t really be back in the 90s could you? No, that would be crazy and impossible. There was absolutely no way. Your heart began to pound in fear. If you were really back in the 1990, what were you supposed to do? How did you get here? More importantly, how were you going to get home? You started to rack your brain. That’s when it hit you, the cassette player. You were trying to get the rewind button to work when you were suddenly transported here. You quickly brought up the cassette player. If rewind brought you back to the past  then fast forward should send you to the future as in back home. You couldn't hit the play and fast forward button soon enough. However much to your dismay it didn’t work. Well technically it did work. The song you were listening to began to speed up and fast forward, but you didn’t go anywhere. You weren’t back in your room. You were still standing about a block away from the park. You felt like crying, sinking down into the concrete pavement. 

“Oh hey it’s you again,” you heard a familiar voice. You look up to see the teenage boy from the park again.

“Hey,” you replied. 

“Why are you just sitting here?” he asked. Oh you know just having a crisis. No big deal. 

“Just…thinking.” is the word you decide to go with. 

“Shouldn’t you be headed home? It will be dark soon.” You didn’t even notice the setting sun. 

“Oh um…” If you could you would and really wish that you could. 

“Are you new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before?” he questioned. 

“Yeah I just got here,” you tell him. The boy has no clue how literal your statement is.

“Are you lost then? I can walk you home if you want? Just tell me your address,” he offered. 

“No, that’s ok.” I don’t have a home to go to.

“Did you run away from home?” he gasped. 

“What? No! I didn't, it's not like-” you sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” you say.

“Try me?” he challenged. 

“Fine. I time traveled from the future,” you told him seriously. The boy looked at you for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. 

“Oh, that’s a good one. Seriously, did you get in a fight with your parents or something?” He takes a seat beside you on the pavement. 

“Told you wouldn’t believe me,” you said. “Just go home, don’t worry about me.” Sensing your upsetness he decides to give you the upper hand. 

“Ok, let’s say I believe you. How did you get here and from where,when?” he questions. 

“I’m from 2024. My mom’s old cassette player somehow brought me back in time. I know that sounds crazy because it is, but it’s true,” you explained. 

“This cassette player?” He points to the cassette player in your hand. 

“Yeah.” You held it up a bit. 

“Can I see it?” He held his hands out. 

“Knock yourself out.” You handed the player over to him. At first he only glances over it, yet he begins to squint at the clear plastic lid of the cassette player. He proceeded to hit the open button on the lid. “What are you-”

“1993.” you hear him murmur. 

“What?” you asked. 

“1993,” he repeated. 

“What about it?”

“It’s 1990,” he reminded you. That’s when it clicked. 

“It’s 1990 and this cassette is from 1993!” you said excitedly. “You believe me now right?” you questioned hopefully. 

“Well it’s not, what did you say 2024?” You nodded. “But it is evidence that you are from the future, so…yeah I believe you,” he tells you. 

“Oh thank you!” you tell him. 

“So what are you gonna do?” he questioned handing you the cassette player back. Your excitement faded away as quickly as it came.

“I don’t know. I just wanna go home,” you answered. The boy looks at you sympathetically. He has no idea how you must feel right now, but it’s clear that you're very stressed about your situation. 

“How about you come stay with me. I could help you figure out how to get home,” he suggested. 

“Thanks, but would your parents be ok with you bringing some random girl home?” you ask. 

“I’ll tell them that you’re a friend who needs a place to stay for a while,” he tells you. 

“What if they ask about my parents? I mean they…haven’t even met yet. They’re both teenagers right now.” The gravity of your situation hits you even more. 

“We can figure that out later. Sitting on a sidewalk isn’t going to solve anything though, so will you come?” he questioned. You thought for a moment. It’s not like you had a better option. 

“You’re sure it’s ok for me to stay with you?” you double checked. 

“Absolutely we have a guest room that you can stay in,” he tells you. 

“Ok thanks uh… you’re?” Something hits you while you’re looking at the guy, whom you didn’t know the name of. He looked just like the guy from the yearbook photo with your mom. “Something with a G” you mouthed recalling your mom’s words.

“Oh that’s right we kinda skipped over introductions. I’m Gunil,” he introduced himself, sticking out his hand. 

“Gunil, with a G,” you didn’t mean to say it outloud. 

“Yep with a G. I don’t think it would quite work with a J,” he joked lightheartedly.

“I’m y/n,” you introduced yourself and finally shook his outstretched hand. That had been waiting an awkwardly long time. 

“Let’s go y/n.” He stands up from the pavement, dusting off his pants. Then he sticks out his hand to help you up. You take his hand standing up. You still had no clue how you were going to get home, but at least you had someone who was willing to help. 

The walk to Gunil’s house didn’t take too long. He lived relatively close to the park. 

“This is it,” Gunil announced when you reached the bottom of his driveway. You felt your nerves begin to bubble up again. 

“Are you sure this is ok? I can figure something else out,” you say feeling uneasy. 

“Like what? Sleeping on a park bench? I assure you it's fine. Now come on.” Gunil starts to walk up his driveway. You follow behind him, nervously fiddling with your hands. “Mom I’m back and-”

“You have a guest,” his mom finished his sentence. After seeing you standing behind him in the doorway. 

“This is my friend y/n and they need a place to stay for a bit,” Gunil said sheepishly. 

“Oh, of course you friends are always welcome here, you know that,” his mom smiled.

“Thank you,” you thanked her.

“Sure thing sweetie, but Gunil, is there any reason why we haven’t met her before?” his mom asks.

“Have you been hiding her from us?” His dad now joined the conversation with a teasing tone. 

“What? No I haven’t it-” Gunil began to sputter, feeling flustered by his dad’s teasing. 

“It’s because I only moved here recently,” you saved. 

“Oh I see. I hope you like it here, but if you’re going to stay with us why don’t you have a bag? Certainly you need more than just a cassette player.” Gunil’s mom looked around for your belongings. 

“I wanted to get permission first. I can go pack my stuff tomorrow,” you told her. You felt your heart pounding. 

“That’s right. I tried to tell her that you would understand, but she didn’t want to intrude,” Gunil backed you up. 

“You’re just a sweet little thing aren’t you? Come on, dinner is ready. I’m sure you both are hungry.” She guides both you and Gunil to the kitchen table. You felt awkward as you sat next to Gunil at the table.

“So y/n where did you move from?” Gunil’s dad questioned you, trying to create some small talk.

You swear you could feel Gunil tense up beside you. 

“Michigan.” Why was that the first place that popped into your head?

“Did you like it there?” he followed up. 

“The lakes were really pretty,” you said the one thing you knew about Michigan. 

“Oh yes! I’ve seen pictures of Lake Michigan I would love to see it in person one day,” Gunil’s mom chimed in. 

“Dinner is really good Mrs. Goo. Thank you,” you state, trying to change the topic. 

“I’m already letting you stay here. There is no need to butter me up.”

“I’m not,” you pronounced, shaking your head. 

“I like her,” Gunil’s mom says and shoots Gunil a look. To which Gunil quickly shakes his head at his mother. A silent plea to ask her to stop. His mother laughs lightly at him. Thankfully you aren’t asked anymore questions throughout the rest of dinner. 

After dinner Gunil showed you the guest room. His mom came into the room holding some pajamas. 

“They might not fit perfectly, but they should be ok for the night.” She smiled at you as she handed them over. 

“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to,” you said, taking them from her. 

“Don’t be silly. You’re our guest. You should be comfortable,” she insisted. 

“Well thanks again,” you say. Gunil’s mom then steps out of the room, leaving just you and Gunil.  

“My room is right next door”– Gunil pointed towards his room– “And the bathroom is right across the hall. Let me know if you need anything,” he told you. 

“Mmh, thank you” you nod your head.

“No problem.” Gunil turned around and left the room. You looked at the cassette player sitting on the bed. You walked over to the bed, setting down the pajamas that were in your hand to pick up the cassette player. 

“Can’t you just take me home?” you said to the old or you guess it’s not so old right now cassette player. “Please,” you begged, placing a headphone in your ear. You placed in the other one and hit play. Music filled your ears. You pressed the fast forward button, the song played faster. You sighed. Your finger now hovers over the rewind button. What if you hit it and it sends you even farther back in the past? However, on the other hand, what if it sent you home? You took a breath, closed your eyes and hit the rewind button. The song began to rewind. You carefully popped one eye open. Nothing happened, you were still in the guest room. Feeling defeated, you pulled the headphones out of your ears. You changed into the pajamas Gunil’s mom had given you. She was right they weren’t a perfect fit, but they would do. 

Later in the night Gunil’s mom stopped by your door to wish you goodnight. Before you could respond to her you hear Gunil yelling you a goodnight as well through the thin walls. You yelled him a goodnight back which made his mom laugh. Then you wished her a goodnight as well. You made yourself comfortable underneath the covers. Closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take you away and hopefully back home somehow. 

Upon waking up in the morning it takes you a second to remember where you are. Once you see your mom’s cassette player sitting on the edge of the bed you remember. You were still stuck in 1990. You sat up on the bed not quite knowing what to do. It would be awkward if you just walked out of the room as you are right now right? What if Gunil wasn’t up yet then you would be stuck with his parents. That didn’t seem all that ideal. Your bladder apparently had an answer for you though. The bathroom was right across the hall from you. You would just have to do a quick in and out. You opted for getting dressed first, changing back into the clothes you were wearing yesterday. You carefully opened the door as silently as possible, peeking your head out. When you didn’t see anyone you quickly beelined into the bathroom. You were ready to beeline back to your room however right when you opened the bathroom door someone called you.

“Oh y/n you’re up. How’d you sleep?” Gunil’s mom asked you. You awkwardly stepped into the hallway. 

“I slept good, thanks. You?” you returned.

“I slept good too. Gunil is still sleeping, but I can wake him up if you want,” she offered. 

“That’s ok he can keep sleeping,” you told her. You kinda regretted it though. Maybe it would be better to just wake him up.

“You can come out to the living room. I’m almost done making breakfast,” she tells you. You awkwardly followed her out to the living room. Where you now see Gunil’s dad sitting in the chair. He bid you a good morning as you did to him in return. You tentatively took a seat on the couch. 

“Y/n you never told us why you’re staying with us,” he dad said. You feel your heartbeat pick up as you took a moment to think.

“...Oh my parents are out of town and I don’t feel comfortable staying in our new house by myself yet,” you explained. 

“What’d they go out of town for?” He was probably just trying to make conversation, but you really wish he wasn’t.

“Work.” That sounded reasonable enough, you thought. 

“What do they do for work?” It was too early for your brain to make up these fake answers. 

“They work for a cassette manufacturer.” Gunil answered for you emerging from the hallway. He came and took a seat next to you on the couch. He was still wearing his pajamas and his hair was a bit messy. He looked oddly cute. 

“Gunil you’re up just in time. Breakfast is ready,” his mom informed, coming into the living room. 

You guys all headed to the kitchen, sitting down and eating the breakfast that Gunil’s mom had made.

“Thanks for breakfast mom. I’m gonna go change then I’ll take y/n to go pack her things,” Gunil stated. Just like that Gunil whisked away to his room. You returned to the guest room to grab the cassette player. You had barely grabbed the cassette player when Gunil appeared in the doorway. 

“You ready?” he checked.

“That was fast,” you remarked, taking in his tidied up appearance. His hair was no longer messy and he swapped his pajamas for a black t-shirt and jeans.

“I didn’t want you to wait,” he told you. 

“Thanks, and yeah I’m ready,” you answered him. The two of you walked out of Gunil’s house. “Gunil how are we gonna pack my things when I have no things to pack?” you questioned once you two reached the end of his driveway. Gunil reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“We have some shopping to do.” He waved his wallet around. 

“Gunil no,” you say, footsteps coming to a stop. Gunil lets out a sigh. His footsteps coming to a stop as well. 

“Do you have a better idea? You can’t exactly wear the same clothes everyday,” he pointed out. 

“I know that, but I feel bad having you spend money on me,” you explained. Gunil takes a couple steps closer to you. 

“Don’t feel bad. I want to. I’ve been wanting to go shopping anyway, so this is the perfect opportunity,” he tells you. 

“Still, won’t it be too much-”

“Shush, your only concern should be figuring out how to get back home. Let me take care of the rest,” he silenced you. He swings one of his arms around your shoulder prompting you to start walking again. When you try to refute again he simply shushes you more.

“Can I ask where we’re going then?” you questioned. You turned your head to look at Gunil, who still had his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“The mall. It’ll have everything we need,” Gunil answered casually. 

“I haven’t been to the mall in ages,” you say. 

“Really? Are malls not that popular in the future?” Gunil asked with slightly widened eyes. 

“I don’t think they're as popular as they used to be, but plenty of people still go to them,” you answered. Gunil nods at your answer. “How far is the mall?” you asked. 

“About a twenty minute walk,” Gunil answered. 

“Wanna listen to music?” You held up the cassette player. 

“Are you sure it won’t send us to the past?” Gunil jokes. You scoffed. 

“Honestly no I can’t be sure, but it should be fine,” you say. 

“I’ll risk it.” Gunil reaches to take one of the headphones and puts it in his ear. You put the other one in your ear. You hit play on the cassette player, letting the music fill either of yours and Gunil’s ears. To any onlookers you and Gunil probably look like a couple. With Gunil’s arm that he is yet to remove from around your shoulders and now sharing headphones on top of it. You felt oddly comfortable though. This is probably the most relaxed you felt since you had arrived in 1990. 

Upon arriving at the mall both you and Gunil remove the headphones from your ears. Gunil’s arm finally leaves your shoulders. It’s not until he removed his arm that you realized it was there the entire time. Gunil finds that his arm now feels empty that it’s not wrapped around you. 

“Where to first?” you questioned as the two of you walked inside the entrance of the mall. 

“I was thinking we should probably get you a bag first, then we can go get you some clothes,” he tells you. 

“Sounds good,” you agreed. Gunil led you to a shop that had a collection of bags that you could choose from. You ended up picking a blue duffle bag that had teal carrying straps. Next, Gunil takes you to a clothing store. He asked you about your preferences for what types of clothes you like to wear then proceeded to help you pick out some outfits. 

“How about this one?” Gunil asked, holding up a shirt in a color you specifically told him you disliked. You make a very unimpressed face at him. 

“Gunil, I specifically told you I don’t like that color,” you told him. 

“Why? I think it suits you. You look pretty.” He steps closer to you, holding the shirt up to your frame. You feel a warmth trying to make its way to your cheeks. You shook it off. 

“Gunil, no.” You pushed the shirt away from your frame. 

“Come on please. I’m buying anyway,” he pointed. He kinda had you there. He was paying for all your things, so you felt like the least you could do is get something that he liked. Even if it wasn’t something you would pick for yourself. 

“Fine, but don’t keep using that against me.” You pointed a finger at him. Gunil raised his hands in a playful surrender. 

“Ok, I won’t,” he said, happily tossing the shirt with the other clothes you were getting.

Three shops later you convinced Gunil that you really didn’t need anymore stuff. He seemed reluctant, but agreed with you. He insisted that you two get some food before you head back to his place though. You couldn’t deny that all the shopping didn’t work up your appetite, so you and Gunil made your way over to the food court. The two of you got food from a place that Gunil recommended. After getting your food you walked over to the seating area. 

“So how are you liking the 90s mall experience?” Gunil questioned making you laugh. 

“I mean, I don't think it's that different from a modern day mall, but it’s nice,” you say. 

“Yo Gunil! You didn’t tell us you were coming here today. Oh who’s this?” One of, who are assuming, is Gunil’s friends asked. 

“This is y/n. They’re new around here,” Gunil introduced. 

“She looks kinda familiar,” one of the notes.

“I was thinking the same thing,” another one says.

“The park!” One exclaimed pointing at you. “She’s the one who kicked the ball back to us.” 

“Oh, that’s right.” 

“You mean they’re the one-” 

“What are you guys doing here?” Gunil cut his friend off. 

“We were gonna see if they have any new music at the music shop,” One answered. 

“Well then don’t let us stop you guys,” Gunil motioned for them to get going.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! We haven’t introduced ourselves yet,” one says. “I’m Jooyeon,” he introduced himself. 

“I’m Jiseok,” another one said. 

“Seungmin.” The boy gave you a half wave. 

“Jungsu,” he smiled. 

“I’m Hyeongjun,” the last one says shyly. 

“Nice to meet you guys,” you state. 

“You like to listen to music?” Jiseok pointed to your cassette player. You nodded. 

“Yeah you could say that,” you answered. 

“Do you want to come to the music shop with us then?” Jiseok offered. 

“Maybe some other time. We should be heading back now,” Gunil interjected, standing up. 

“Oh don’t be silly Gunil. It’s not even late afternoon yet. Let me see what you listen to, the music store probably has it.” Jiseok reaches for the cassette player you had sitting on the table. Wasting no time in opening it and taking a look at the cassette before you could say anything. “You listen to them too! I-why don’t I recognize any of these songs?” Jiseok starts to look at the cassette closer. 

“Oh that’s be-”

“1993!” Jiseok’s eyes widened. “H-how do you have a cassette from 1993?” Jiseok looked at you in disbelief. You looked at Gunil in a panic. He looked back at you just as panicked. “What’s with those looks? What’s going on?” Jiseok interrogated. 

“Well, you see, I may or may not be from 34 years in the future,” you said. Jiseok’s face deadpans for a moment before he bursts out laughing. 

“That’s a good one. I didn’t think you’d be so funny, but seriously what is this a fake or something?” He waved the cassette in his hand. 

“Listen to it,” Gunil tells him. 

“What?” Jiseok responded. 

“Listen to it,” he gestured for Jiseok to put the cassette back in the player. Jiseok looked skeptical, but he did as he was told. His eyes widened again as he listened to the song he’s never heard before, but is unmistakably from the artist. 

“How is this possible?” Jiseok asked, removing the headphones from his ears. You reach over taking the cassette player back from him. 

“That’s what I want to know,” you sighed.

“Wait a second, are you actually saying that she’s from the future?” Seungmin speaks up. 

“I know it’s hard to believe, but yeah,” Gunil states. 

“Hard to believe? It’s completely crazy!” Seungmin declares. 

“You don’t have to believe it if you don’t want to, but Gunil and I should really get going now,” you say. Gunil gathers the bags of your recently bought items and makes his way to your side. 

“Hold on you can’t just leave after saying you're from the future,” Jooyeon followed after you and Gunil. 

“Ok then you can follow us, but I told my mom we're gonna go pick up y/n’s things. She’ll start to worry if we’re gone for too much longer,” Gunil tells. Like a group of ducklings Gunil’s friends started to follow after you two. 

“We should probably put the stuff into the duffle bag,” you tell Gunil.

“You’re right. Let’s stop for a second.” Gunil stepped aside and the two of you began to pull your recently bought items and put them into the duffle bag. 

“I take it your parents don’t know that she’s from the future?” Jungsu inferred. 

“No, she’s a friend, who moved here recently and is staying with us while her parents are away,” Gunil informed. 

“Do you know where your parents are?” Jooyeon randomly asked. You stopped loading clothes into the duffle bag to think. 

“Umm…if it’s 1990 then,” you pause to do some mental math. “My mom would be sixteen, so she’d be living with my grandparents. I know she goes to the same high school as you guys do,” you say.

“How do you know that?” Gunil asked as he finished putting the last piece of clothing into the duffle bag and zipped it up.

“I saw a picture of you in her old yearbook,” you tell him. It’s a bit ironic that you called the yearbook old considering that it hasn’t been made yet. You go to take the duffle bag from him, but he ignores you and swings it over his own shoulder.

“Oh, that’s how you knew my name started with a G,”’ Gunil commented as he began walking in the direction of his house. 

“Does the name Lee Jooyeon mean anything in the future?” Jooyeon quickly followed behind you both. 

“No, sorry,” you shook your head.

“What about Kwak Jiseok?” Jiseok cut in, appearing beside Jooyeon. Again you shook your head.

“How about Seungmin then? Oh Seungmin,” Jooyeon tried. 

“Oh Seungmin?” you repeated a bit louder. You did recognize that name. 

“Don’t tell us he’s the one who got famous?” Jiseok said. You laughed. While Seungmin let out an offended “Hey!”

“No, he’s not famous. I just know the name because my dad hated him,” you explained. 

“Why would your dad hate me?” Seungmin asked with a bit of hurt in his eyes. 

“I thought you didn’t believe her,” Hyeongjun commented. 

“I-I don’t, not entirely, but if someone hates me,” Seungmin stuttered. 

“Because you always beat him at track. My dad was the top track athlete at his school, but whenever it came to school competitions he could never beat Seungmin. He always came in second,” you explained. 

“So you’re saying your dad is d/n?” he said your father’s name. 

“Yeah, that’s him,” you confirmed. 

“No way,” Seungmin states in denial. 

“What? You don’t see the resemblance?” You turned to face Seungmin. Seungmin leaned closer to inspect your face. You slightly turned your head from side to side to give him a better look at your features. Suddenly Gunil reaches for your wrist pulling you up beside him. 

“It doesn’t matter if he believes you or not. Let’s hurry up and get home,” he quickly said. You can hear the rest of the boys joking about something behind you.

“Mom, we're back!” Gunil shouted upon entering his house. 

“That took a bit longer than I- oh the boys are with you,” his mom says.

“Yeah we ran into them along the way,” Gunil tells.

“Well make yourselves at home,” his mom smiles and steps aside. You all make your way to Gunil’s room, making a pit stop by the guest room you were staying in to set your bag down.

Jooyeon, Jiseok and Hyeongjun made themselves comfortable on Gunil’s bed. Jungsu sat at a desk. Seungmin sat on top of the desk. You stood there awkwardly until Gunil grabbed some pillows from his bed for you two to sit on.

“So if you’re from the future how did you get here?” Jooyeon was quick to ask you more questions.

“This,” you held up your mom’s cassette player. 

“And you let me listen to it!” Jiseok yelled. 

“It happened when she hit the rewind button, not just from listening to it,” Gunil defended. 

“Still,” Jiseok grumbled. 

“Since you’re still here I’m guessing pressing fast forward doesn’t send you back?” Jungsu presumed. 

“Nope,” you shook your head.

“How are you gonna get home then?” Jooyeon questioned. 

“That’s what I want to know,” you sighed. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Gunil told you comfortingly. 

“Maybe it’s cause the cassette is from 1993,” Jiseok spoke. 

“Huh?” you questioned, not understanding what he meant. 

“The cassette is from 1993, so it technically doesn’t exist here yet. Maybe that’s why you can’t go home,” he elaborated. 

“Are you saying I’m gonna be stuck here for three years!” you panicked.

“No,no, no. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Gunil tried to console you, placing his hands on your knee. Meanwhile Jungsu was scolding Jiseok for what he said. 

“What he said kinda makes sense though,” you stated worriedly.

“No, what the others said is right. I’m an idiot, I don't know what I’m talking about.” Jiseok tried to fix the panic he caused you. Seungmin still doesn’t really believe that you’re from the future, but seeing the way you’re freaking out right now makes him want to. He definitely feels bad for you, cause even if you weren’t from the future your situation right now surely isn’t ideal. Gunil is still trying to ease your nerves.

“How about we go to the arcade?” Hyeongjun suggests amidst the bit of chaos happening. 

“I’m not sure now is really-” Jungsu started. 

“I’ve never been to an arcade,” you stated.

“You’ve never been to the arcade? Do they not exist in the future?” Jooyeon asked, astonished. 

“They exist. I’ve just never been,” you informed. 

“Oh, well we totally have to go then,” he said, hopping up from Gunil’s bed. 

“Right now?” Seungmin questioned. 

“Well we don’t know when y/n will return home, so if we want to do something with them we should do it now,” Jooyeon reasoned. 

With that you found yourselves walking to the nearest arcade. Jooyeon and Jiseok practically dragged you because they were excited to play games with you. While Gunil was trying to tell them to slow down, not wanting you to accidentally get hurt. 

The arcade was really fun. It managed to take your mind off your current situation for a while. Jooyeon and Jiseok were excited to teach you how to play the games and maybe tease you when you weren’t so good at one. Hyeongjun was much more chill and helpful when it came to games you had no idea how to play. Gunil stared at you admiringly. He felt like he could relax a bit seeing you genuinely smile and have fun. 

“Are you gonna confess to them before they go back home or are you gonna hide your feelings forever?” Jungsu asked, resting an arm on Gunil’s shoulder. 

“They want to go home. I shouldn’t complicate their situation any more,” Gunil said. 

“You’re allowed to be a little selfish you know?” Jungsu voices. 

“Even if I did confess it’s not like we can exactly be together. Plus I’m sure being in a relationship is the last thing on her mind,” Gunil notes.

“It’s a given that you can’t stay together, but do you really want to give up on being with her, even if it’s for a short amount of time?” Jungsu put to question.

Gunil saw you at the park on the day you first arrived. He thought that you were cute, so he may have accidentally sent the ball he and his friends were playing with your way. He was looking for an excuse to talk to you. When he saw you sitting on the sidewalk on his way home he couldn’t up the god given opportunity to talk to you again. Upon finding out about your situation it was clear that you were very stressed, but Gunil couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit glad. He was able to spend more time with you because of it. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want that. Jungsu told him that he was allowed to be selfish, but he was already being selfish. He didn’t simply offer to help you out of the goodness of his heart. No, it was because he liked you. He was already being selfish with his actions, so he didn’t know how far he should go with selfishness. Would it be too selfish to tell you how he felt about you?

Gunil is interrupted from his internal struggle when he sees you excitedly jumping up and down at a claw machine, reaching down to claim your stuffed prize. 

“Gunil look!” You hurried over to him to show him the turtle you just won. Gunil falls for you even more, finding you adorable. 

“It’s cute,” he smiles at you. He means both you and the turtle. 

After your time spent at the arcade you part ways with Gunil’s friends. Gunil enjoys it being just you and him again. He watches you as you walk looking down at the stuffed turtle you just won. 

“What should I name it?” you asked Gunil for his opinion. 

“Umm?” Gunil thought. 

A loud honk interrupts his thinking. He looks at the sound of the honk seeing a truck fastly approaching you two as you're midway across the crosswalk. Gunil quickly pulls you out of the way of the vehicle. The truck goes wheezing past you two. 

CRASH! SNAP! CRACK! Panic rages through your body as you stare at your mom’s old cassette player that is now in pieces. It was haphazardly shoved in your pocket and the force of Gunil suddenly pulling you must’ve somehow made it pop out of your pocket. 

“Are you ok?” Gunil looks you over still not noticing what had just happened. 

“I’m. I’m. Uh, the- how am I?” Your non-coherently sputter out, pointing at the cassette player.

“What?” Gunil flows the direction of your finger and sees the broken cassette player. Gunil quickly goes to gather the broken pieces.

“It’s gonna be ok?” He tried to calm you. 

“How is it going to be ok? That- that’s my only way home and it’s-” you heaved.

“Look at me,” Gunil says calmly. Your eyes hesitantly tear away from the broken pieces in his hands to look at his face.

“It’ll be ok. There’s a repair shop we can take it too. They’ll fix it,” he tells you. 

“But what if-”

“They’ll fix it,” he told you firmly. 

“Ok,” you let out a shaky breath. 

Gunil and you arrived at the repair shop. You’re shaking with nerves. Fearing for the worst. That your mom’s cassette player will be unfixable and you’ll be stuck here forever. 

“I think it would be easier to buy a new cassette player,” the worker of the shop informed. It made your heart sink to your stomach. 

“It was a gift from her mom. You can surely fix it right?” Gunil told the worker in a passive aggressive voice. 

“Look man-” Gunil leaned whisper something to the guy. “Ok, I’ll see what I can do. Come back in a week to pick it up,” the worker says. 

“Great, thank you,” Gunil said to the worker. 

“Come on.” Gunil wrapped his arm around your shoulder leading you out of the store. 

“Can he really fix it?” you asked, doubtfully. 

“He’ll fix it,” Gunil said confidently. This was going to be the longest week of your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It indeedly was the longest week of your life. Gunil tried his very best to keep you distracted. He wanted to show you the joy of living in the 90s. He took out around town, showing you his favorite spots. He invited you out with his friends (who have started to grow close with you.) You  could never completely shake the anxious feeling in your stomach though. Yes, you were having fun thanks to Gunil and his friends, but having fun didn’t make your problem go away. You were simply making the best out of a bad situation. 

Currently you are sitting on the couch with Gunil, a movie playing on the t.v. It’s the night before you go pick up the cassette player. You bounced your leg anxiously as the fear of the worst began to set back in.

“Are you not interested in this movie?” Gunil asked you. It was an indirect way of asking if you were ok. 

“I don’t think I’ll be interested in any movie. I’m too nervous. What if it couldn’t be fixed?” you told Gunil your worries. 

“I told you it’ll be fixed.” Gunil scooted closer to you on the couch. 

“You can’t know that for sure. What if I’m stuck here forever?” your voice raised slightly. Not because you were mad at Gunil, but because you were terrified of never being able to get home.

“Then I’ll take care of you forever,” Gunil answered. He tenderly took your hands in his. 

“You can’t do that Gunil. You’ve already done so much, too much. I can’t keep burdening you, and your parents,” you argued. 

“You aren't a burden y/n. I took you here because I want to look after you,” he tells you. His thumbs run over your knuckles. 

“Realistically, how long can you do that? Your parents are bound to ask where my parents really are soon. What are we supposed to tell them? That I actually ran away from home? That my parents abandoned me? That I’m from the future?” you ranted. 

“I get that you're really scared and stressed right now, but can you please just trust me. Let me take care of you. We don’t know if the cassette player is fixed or not right now. Let’s at least see how it goes tomorrow,” Gunil proposed. 

“What if it couldn’t be fixed?” you asked again.

“Then you can have a mental breakdown, but I’ll take care of you during that too.” His thumbs stop rumbling your knuckles, but his grip remains grounding on your hands. 

“Why do you care so much?” you questioned.

“Because I like you,” Gunil confessed. Your hands go slack in his due to shock. 

“What do you mean?” you asked not being able to understand. 

“I like you,” he repeated. “That ball didn’t accidentally land at your feet when we were in the park. I purposely kicked it over to you cause I wanted your attention. I thought you were pretty and wanted to talk to you,” he revealed. 

“Then all this time you’ve…” You trailed off, not knowing exactly what you wanted to say. 

“I know that you don’t like the situation you're in right now and that romance is one of the last things that would be on your mind. Which is why I wasn’t sure if I should tell you how I feel, but I’ve really enjoyed being with you this entire time. It’s selfish cause I know how stressed and scared you are. I really want to be by your side as long as I can,” he continued on. 

“I feel most relaxed when you’re with me,” you tell him truthfully. “You’re right romance isn’t exactly on my to do list, but I like being with you too,” you say. A smile tugged at your lips. You moved your previously slack hand to hold Gunil’s hand back. Your words weren’t exactly a confession, but for Gunil they were more than enough. You liked being with him. That alone made him feel over the moon.

Gunil moved to lean against the back of the couch, pulling you along with him. His hands never left yours. Both of your eyes wandered back to the t.v that neither of you were paying attention to. Gunil being too wrapped up in the feeling of you leaning against him and the fact that you liked being beside him, just as he liked being beside you. Your nerves about finding out if your way home was fixed or not definitely keep you distracted. However you also found that the way Gunil was absentmindedly playing with your fingers and the calming warmth that radiated off of him proved to be an equally good distraction. 

Sometime during you and Gunil basking in each other's presence the two of you drifted off to sleep. Your head falling on Gunil’s shoulder and his head resting on yours. Gunil’s hands placed protectively over yours from where they fell in the small space between your two bodies on the couch. 

“He really tired to convince us that she’s just a friend,” Gunil’s mom said when her and Gunil’s dad returned home from their date night to find you and Gunil cuddled up on the couch. 

“The hearts in his eyes were never fooling us dear,” his dad stated. 

“They look so cute. I need to take a photo.” Gunil’s mom quickly and excitedly rushed off to grab the camera. She snapped a couple photos of you and Gunil. Then Gunil’s dad ushered her away from your sleeping forms, not wanting to wake the two of you and ruin the moment.

Your eyes cracked open in the morning, taking in the lighter room. You notice that the t.v has been turned off. Next you realize that your head is resting on Gunil’s shoulder and you can feel the weight of his head resting against yours. You slowly tried to remove your hands out from under Gunil’s. When they were almost free Gunil’s hands suddenly grasped onto your hands, bringing them back to his hold. 

“Gunil,” you softly called out his name. You carefully lifted your head up from Gunil’s shoulder, which resulted in Gunil’s head coming down onto your shoulder.

“Gunil,” you tried again. “Gunil.” You shook your shoulder. Gunil started to stir awake.

“Mmh,” he mumbled, opening his eyes. 

“Good morning,” you told him. Gunil now realizes the position that the two of you are in and sits up straight. Then he realizes that his hands are holding yours. A shade of pink dusts his cheeks. 

“Good morning,” he said. “Do you want some breakfast? We have cereal or I could make some eggs,” he offered standing up from the couch.

“Cereal’s fine,” you say, standing up from the couch too. Gunil and you walk over to the kitchen and make your bowls of cereal. He pulls your chair out for you before you sit down.

“Thanks,” you smiled. He nodded then pulled out the chair beside you to sit down in. 

“Look who’s up,” Gunil’s mom said as she entered the kitchen. You and Gunil each wished her a good morning. “Did you two sleep well?” she asked. You and Gunil share a glance. You both know she must’ve seen you two on the couch.

“Yeah, I slept well,” Gunil answered. 

“Me too,” you followed. Your answer makes Gunil smile and Gunil’s mom certainly doesn’t miss it.

“That’s good. I know sleeping on the couch isn’t always the most comfortable, but you two looked so cute I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” she says. Both yours and Gunil’s faces flared red at her comment. 

“Should we go pick up your cassette player now?” Gunil asked, changing the topic. 

“Yes, we should,” you eagerly nodded. The two of you hurried up eating your cereal then rushed out of the kitchen. Gunil’s mom could only smile, finding you two adorable. 

Once you and Gunil got ready you headed to the repair shop. The closer you got to the shop the more nervous you got. Gunil easily noticed how nervous you were and slipped his hand into your, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“I got you,” he tells you. 

The two of you arrive at the shop. You always thought the saying of feeling your heart in your throat was weird, but now you understand it cause it really did feel like your heart was in your throat. 

“We’re here to pick up the cassette player,” Gunil told the worker. 

“I know, I remember you,” the worker said, giving Gunil a look. The worker reaches under the counter and pulls out your mom’s cassette player. It looks like it’s fixed…accept for a crack that runs across the lid. “I couldn’t get rid of this crack, but it works,” the worker said. 

“The crack doesn't matter. Thank you for fixing it,” you told the worker, taking the cassette player in your hands.

“Just doing my job,” he replied. Then he turns to Gunil, so that he can pay. 

“Sorry about the crack,” Gunil says as you two exited the store. 

“It’s ok. It answered a question actually,” you disclosed. 

“What question?” Gunil asked. 

“Back in the future, my mom and I were going through boxes of her old things. This cassette player was in one of the boxes and it had this exact crack, but my mom had no clue how it got there. She never remembered it having a crack,” you told. 

“Well mystery solved then,” Gunil said. 

“Yeah, mystery solved.” You unwrapped the headphones from around the cassette player and handed one to Gunil. He gladly took it and placed it in his ear. He took this time to wrap his arm around your shoulder, just like the first time you two listened to the cassette together. 

Soon enough you arrived back at Gunil’s house to discover it empty, meaning his parents went out somewhere. The pair of you made yourselves comfortable on the couch.

“So what exactly happened when the cassette player brought you to the past,” Gunil questioned. 

“I told you I hit rewind,” you chuckled. 

“I know that, but did you hit any other button first or?” he clarified. You took a moment to think back.

“I smacked it,” you remembered. “When I first hit rewind it didn’t work, so I smacked it thinking it might get it to work,” you explained. 

“Have you tried smacking it again?” he asked. 

“No, but it just got fixed. I’m scared to smack it now,” you said. 

“I’m not saying to smack it with all you got, but it’s worth a shot,” he stated. You lift your hand to give the cassette player a smack then paused. 

“Are you that scared? Should I do it for you?” he offered. 

“It’s not that.” You lowered your hand. 

“Then what is it?” 

“It’s funny. Most of the time I’ve been here, I’ve been wanting to go home, but right now it feels hard to leave,” you say.

“Well you know I’m not going to tell you to go,” Gunil said lightheartedly. “There’s no guarantee that smacking it would work either,” he notes. 

“I know, but if it does. I think I’d rather try it later.” 

“You wanna go get ice cream?” he suggested. 

“Sounds good,” you agree. 

You spent the rest of the day out with Gunil. Having your ice cream then going to walk around the mall. After the mall you walk aimlessly around the town. 

“Well look who it is?” A voice spoke behind you two. Both you and Gunil turn your heads to see Jooyeon standing there with Jiseok. The pair of them had teasing smiles on their faces. 

“Yeah look who it is,” Gunil said. 

“It’s fixed,” Jiseok pointed to the cassette player in your hands. 

“Yep.”

“Any ideas on how to get home?” he asked. 

“We have an idea, but we don't know if it will work,” you said. 

“How come you haven’t tried it yet?” Jooyeon questioned. 

“Do you want me to leave without saying goodbye?” you said, quasi offended. 

“Of course not. I’d be very sad if you just disappeared. You just always seem like you’re eager to go home, so I’d thought you’d jump at any chance,” he responded. 

“I thought so too, but it’s harder to leave than I expected,” you say looking at Gunil.

“Aww have you grown attached to us! We’ve gotten attached to you too,” Jooyeon and Jiseok pull you into a sandwiched hug. 

“You seriously can’t leave without saying goodbye ok?” Jiseok states pulling away. 

“But there’s no way to tell when I’ll be leaving,” you brought up. 

“We should have a goodbye party!” Jooyeon shouted. Jiseok immediately agreed. 

“If we have a goodbye party and I don’t go home wouldn’t it be awkward?” You asked. 

“Maybe a little, but with a goodbye party we won’t have to worry about not getting to say goodbye,” Jooyeon answered. 

That’s how you found yourself at the very park, where you first arrived in the 90s. Surrounded by Gunil's friends, who are also your friends now too. Pizza boxes litter the ground along with soda cans. 

“I still think this party is kinda stupid,” Seungmin said while taking a sip of soda. 

“So if y/n just disappears and goes back home one day you’re not going to miss them and wish that you could’ve said goodbye?” Jungsu interrogated.

“Whether you believe she is from the future or not. She is still leaving one day no matter what,” Hyeongjun added.  

“But we don’t know when that is, so having this party when we could still see them tomorrow seems kinda silly,” Seungmin defended. 

“Exactly. We don’t know when. She could leave tonight, tomorrow, next week. This way we don’t miss saying goodbye,” Jooyeon said. 

Goodbye parties typically are kinda sad, but you didn’t think this one would feel as sad as it did. You hadn’t really been in the 1990 all that long, yet you’ve made great friends, met a guy who makes your heart flutter and makes it hard to say goodbye. The boys taking the turns saying goodbye to you at the end of the party had all your eyes turning glossy. 

“If I find you in the future then you’ll have to believe me then right?” you asked Seungmin. 

“Yes, if you find me in the future. Looking as you do now. I’ll have no choice, but to believe you.”

“Then goodbye till then,” you told him. 

“Goodbye y/n.” The party ended with a group hug and maybe some spilled tears that no one would admit too. 

“Should I try smacking it?” you asked Gunil. The two of you were currently sitting on his bed. 

“Do you want to?” he followed. 

“With having the goodbye party I feel like I should at least try,” you say. 

“Then let me say goodbye before you do,” he said. 

“Hold on, let me go grab something,” you excused yourself. You went to your room and grabbed the stuffed turtle you won. You returned to Gunil’s room and handed him the turtle when you sat back down beside him. 

“You’re giving this to me?” he checked. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I always planned on giving it to you. I doubt it would come back to the future with me anyway, but I won it with giving it to you in mind,” you tell him. “Thank you.” Gunil hugs the stuffed turtle to his chest. 

“It still doesn’t have a name,” you pointed out. 

“I’ll think of one for it.” He already knew what he was gonna name it, but he felt too shy to name it after you right in front of you. He sets the turtle down on his pillow and turns to pull you into a hug. 

“I’m really going to miss you,” he says, resting his head over your shoulder. 

“I’m gonna miss you too,” you hug him back. “I like you too,” you confessed. Gunil pulled back enough to look at you. 

“I’m a little late to say it back, but I wanted to say it before I leave,” you give him a sentimental smile. Gunil smiles at you back and cups your face in his hands. He leans forward, pressing a warm, loving, gentle kiss on your forehead. You close your eyes basking in the feeling of his lips on you. Your hands come up to hold his wrist lovingly. The two of you stay like that for a few moments. Saying nothing, but also somehow saying everything. 

“Give it a try,” Gunil says, pulling away.

“Ok.” You put each side of the headphones in your ears. You hit play then gave the cassette player a smack. You took a breath and hit rewind. Nothing happened. Literally nothing happened. The rewind button didn’t work, the song kept playing like normal. 

“It doesn’t work,” you say. 

“We’ll just have to think of something else then,” Gunil said. 

“No, like the rewind button doesn’t work. Did smacking it break it? This is what I worried about,” you complained. 

“Hey it’s ok. Let me see.” Gunil takes the cassette player from your hands. This time he gives it a smack. “Try it now.” He handed it back over to you. You give Gunil one last look before hitting the button. The song began to play backwards and the room started to blur.

You were back in your bedroom. Only the cassette player wasn’t with you. 

“Y/n can you come help me with these boxes?” your mom asked you. Help her with boxes? Like on the day you time traveled. You checked the date, surely enough it was the morning of the day you left. 

“And why exactly have you decided to take a trip down memory lane?” you asked your mom. Letting out a heave as you set the heavy box down on your mom’s bed. 

“I watched Jetsons: The Movie yesterday and it got me feeling nostalgic,” your mom answers you, taking off the lid to the box. “My old cassette player!” your mom called out excitedly as she pulled the old device from the box. “I used to use this all the time,” she tells you. There it is the very cassette player that took you back in time. 

“So much that it cracked,” you joked. Despite knowing very well where the crack came from.

“I actually don’t remember it having a crack,” your mom said, scratching her head.

“Must’ve gotten dropped at some point,” you say, recalling the memory of Gunil pulling out of the way of the speeding vehicle. 

“I wonder if it still works. I’ll buy batteries for it when I go out later,” she says. You looked into the box and pulled out the year book, flipping to the page with Gunil and your mom. A sad smile appeared on your face. Your finger slowly rubbed over Gunil’s image. 

“He wasn’t my boyfriend if that’s what you’re wondering,” your mom pulls you from your gaze.

“Honey, are you ok? Your eyes are red,” your mom looked at you concerned.

“I think some dust got in my eyes when we pulled the boxes down,” you lied.

“Let me go get you a wet rag,” your mom hurried away. You missed Gunil. You missed him so much it hurt. You want to cry looking at his picture. Now you know he mistook your mom for you that day. That he was probably all excited to see you again, pulling you into a super tight back hug. Only to find out that it wasn’t you. “Here you go. Wipe your eyes,” your mom gives you the rag. You couldn’t hold the couple of stray tears that escaped as you held the rag to your eyes. 

Later in the day when your mom got back with the batteries you listened to the cassette with her.

“Can I keep this for a while?” you asked her. 

“Of course you can! Ooh I’ll go grab you my other cassettes to listen to.” She went to grab the other cassette. You didn’t plan on listening to them though. You were only going to listen to this one and remember your time spent in the 90s with Gunil. Still when she returned you brought the cassettes up to your room and sat them down.

“We found my old cassette player this morning,” your mom tells your dad as you all eat dinner. 

“Oh really? Does it still work?” he asked. 

“Yeah, but it has this crack across the lid that I don’t remember it having,” she answered. 

“Guess it's a mystery,” your dad said. 

“No, I dropped it when I time traveled back to 1990,” you say. 

“That’s a good one,” your dad chuckled. 

After dinner you headed up to your room. You laid down in your bed and listened to the cassette player. Tears cascaded down your face. 

For the next week you cooped up in your room. Feeling what you would call a heartbreak. The worst part was that you couldn’t talk about it. All you could do was listen to the cassette as you thought about your memories with Gunil and his friends. You wished that you could see Gunil one last time. You spent the bulk of your time there worrying about how to get back home, but now ironically enough all you want to do is go back, just one more time. 

“Please, please, just one more time,” you pleaded. 

“Y/n!” You opened your eyes and there Gunil is standing right in front of you. 

“Gunil!” You throw yourself into his arms. He crushes you in the tightest hug. “Wait, how is this possible? I didn’t hit rewind or anything.” 

“I need to do something I really regretted not doing before you left,” he said. 

“What’s that?” you questioned. 

Gunil cups your face just like he did when he was saying goodbye. Expect this time instead of leaning in and kissing your forehead, his lips land on yours. Your hands travel to his shoulders and one of his hands moves to cradle the back of your head. 

“That.” He pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. “I really regretted not doing that.”

Your eyes open and again and your back in your bedroom. You don’t know if what just happened was a dream or not. You decide to go with not because you wanted it to be real. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Honey, can you run to the store real quick? I realized I forgot something for dinner tonight,” your mom asked your dad.

“Does dinner really need it?” your dad asked. 

“Yes, why are you too lazy to go?” 

“No, Seungmin grocery shops today I don’t want to run into him,”

“Are you serious? After all these years do you still hate Seungmin that much?” Your mom asked in disbelief. 

“It’s not my fault I ran into him at the grocery store. He just had to bag his belongings quicker than me. He's a stupidly fast asshole,” your dad complained.

“I’ll go mom,” you speak up. You needed to see Seungmin. 

“Thank you,” your mom told you. 

You arrived at the store, found what your mom needed for dinner and then walked around looking for Seungmin, hoping that he was there. 

“Oh Seungmin!” you called out when you saw a guy that looked like he could be an older version of Seungmin. The dude turns around at you looking perplexed at who could be calling his name. 

“Y/n?” he said. 

“You believe me now right?”

“How is this possible?” 

“You know how it is. Time travel,” you sassed. 

“You look exactly the same,” he says. He’s still partly in denial.

“Yeah, it’s been 34 years for you, but It’s only been a week for me. Are you and Gunil still friends?” you asked, changing your tone. 

“We’re friends for life,” Seungmin stated “Give me your phone,” he told you. 

“Why?” you asked, still pulling out your phone nonetheless. Seungmin took it from you and began to type something in. 

“You should give him a call. He’s been waiting,” Seungmin said. You stare down at the number typed on your phone screen. 

You got into the car and sat down. You stared at the number once more before hitting the call button. You feel butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

“Hello?” he picked up. 

“Hey Gunil,” you say. 

“Y/n?” he asked. He looked over to the stuffed turtle that he still keeps on his bed even after all these years.

“You’ve been waiting a long time right?”

“I’d wait forever if I had too.”

Taglist: @purplelady85, @odesonnets, @gingerjunhan, @chewednails, @ezlynkisses, @mon2sunjinsuver , @mxlly143

[brain-palace]

Notes: This post is created as an archive for myself so I can easily find the fics I love. If you're looking for something new to read feel free to have a look I recommend everything here. I read many different characters/universes, so I'll list them all so you don't waste time looking at something that isn't relevant to you. If you find something you like please show the fics and their authors some love! Also, this is a long post!

Disclaimer: None of the works below belongs to me unless it explicitly says so. © - All rights reserved to the authors. If a fic does not have a name I will make one up for the sake of archival purposes.

Characters/Universes TWD (The walking dead) - Daryl & Rick | Criminal Minds - Hotch & Ried | Stranger Things - Eddie, Steve, Billy | MCU - Peter Parker | Peakcy blinders - Tommy, John, Arthur, Alfie | The devil all the time - Arvin russel | Sherlock

Key ➸ Angst ☁ | Fluff ♡ | Crack ❈ | On-going ✎ | Completed ✓ | Smut 🔞 |

Daryl Dixon (TWD) ↴ Series ↴

Spitfire | by @rfsak2 | OC (Original character) | "Everyone always thought Daryl was the rough one." | ✎

Close to home | by @paintyoureyeswithavividmind | "When a run goes poorly and Daryl is separated from his group, a stranger and her companion help get him out of a sticky situation. Little does Daryl know this stranger is much closer to home and his life is going to get a bit more complicated" | ✎♡ ☁

Return | by @daryl-dixon-daydreams | "Daryl loses Y/N when they head into Atlanta to rescue Beth. Her absence colours his years until they find each other again." | ♡ ☁ ❈ ✎

Till dead do us part | by @xwritingdixonx | "Daryl Dixon hasn't seen his wife in 3 years until he strolls through the gates of Alexandria. Reunited with his love and his family, he should feel peace, tranquillity, warmth. Instead, he's faced with confusion, shock, and heartache. Just like so many others put through the abuse and torment of the world, it changes people. Twists your mind, makes all your morals disappear. The kind waitress, the brave bartender, Georgia's delight, Mrs. Dixon. Now, mother of nothing - daughter of rage. The whore of Alexandria. A conqueror with tits. Why can't the Blackwell family get a word in before the people of Alexandria point fingers and create storybook titles? It's finally your turn to talk and Daryl's turn to listen." |

Oneshots ↴

The regulars | by daryl-dixon-daydreams | "Based on watching your interactions, Daryl thinks you, a bartender at a local dive, may actually have a thing for his older brother Merle, but a series of events at the bar may begin to show him otherwise" | ♡

All I'm living for | by @alldevilsharehere90 | "Just when you finally got the man you wanted, another surprise could threaten your relationship, especially when a herd of walkers is almost at your doorstep." | ☁ ♡

Old childhood fools | by @r66dus | "Drunk Daryl and y/n fooling around at the CDC" | 🔞

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Rick Grimes (TWD) ↴ Series ↴

The Claim | by @woman-of-balnain | Despite everything that’s going on, despite the world going to shit, despite wanting to stay on Hershel’s good side, despite his marriage falling apart, despite the way he knows he’s broken… despite it all, Rick can’t fight how badly he wants you. | 🔞✓

Undone in sorrow | by woman-of-balnain | "Finally coming face to face with Negan threatens the ties that bind your relationship with Rick together. After that first meeting, the two of you try to pick up the broken pieces of one another and become whole again." | ☁ 🔞

The nurse | by @itsgrimeytime | " Before all this, you were a nurse. A nurse who had patients, one of which was a man in a coma. A sheriff, you think, it was all kinda fuzzy now. When it all went sideways, you set up what you could for the man - but had to leave. You'd always wondered where he'd ended up; until in your search for shelter, you run into a familiar face" | ✎♡ ☁

Magnolia in May | by itsgrimeytime | "Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumours of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing." | ✎♡ ☁

Swear | by @daryandricky | "Shane tells reader that Rick didn't make it after the hospital was overrun, causing reader to travel with her former military brother to find somewhere safe." | ✎♡ ☁

Oneshots ↴

The life we could have had | by itsgrimeytime | "Rick knows you're gone, he does. He just keeps seeing you in everything" |

Everything I wanted | by @bloatedandalone04 | "The one where both you and rick are really bad at communicating your feelings." |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Peter Parker (MCU) ↴ Oneshot ↴

Stacked against you (tasm)| by @delicate-dorothea | "Summary: You confront Spider-Man about his true identity, manila envelope style (literally)." |❈

No chance (tasm) | by @spider-stark | "Thinking he has no chance with y/n as himself, Peter begins approaching them as Spider-Man." |

Are you busy (tasm)| by @luveline | "You’re worried you don’t know how to kiss. your best friend Peter offers to teach you how among other things" | ♡

In the real world | by luveline | "You notice something about Spider-Man during a violent villain showdown, then you have to save his life."

White lies, red & blue tights (tasm) | by @t-lostinworlds | "You and Peter accidentally dressed up in the same costumes for Halloween. But he was not wearing a costume, it was his suit. You simply didn’t know that your favorite superhero and your boyfriend were the same. Who would’ve thought that seeing you in red and blue would be the breaking point of his lies" | ♡

Question (tom)| by @waitimcomingtoo | "Peter accidentally sends you mixed signals when he kisses you for the first time then stands you up" | ♡ ☁

It was fun, being 21 (tom)| by @loverwebs | "In which your boyfriend, Peter Parker, doesn't make it to your birthday dinner. So you walk home alone, only to run into the city's friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." | ♡ ☁

Series ↴

Infinitely you (all of them) | by spider-stark | "In every universe you are the one person Peter Parker will always love more than anything; unfortunately, he always realizes it too late. Now that they've been granted a second chance none of them are willing to miss out on finally making things right." | ☁ ♡ ✎|

The red string | by @never--doubt | "Once a year, everyone over a certain age can see the Red String of Fate that connects them to their soulmate. This year, Peter Parker is ready to find his soulmate, be with them. But the question is…is his soulmate ready?" |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Steve Harrington (ST) ↴ Series ↴

Nail to the coffin | by @thetargaryenbride | "Y/N Byers wondered what would end up being the death of the small town she lived in. She never expected that the last nail on the coffin would be hammered by monsters from another dimension who would end up hunting down her friends and family one by one…" | ☁

You deserve each other | by @bimrwolf | "You and Steve have been together for five years. He's seemingly the perfect boyfriend, kisses on the cheek, knowing your orders at the restaurant. A great lover. Too bad you've had enough can't stand him." |

Oneshots ↴

The way you call me "Baby" | by @forevermoreharrington | "Steve’s been so patient with his girl but he just can’t take it anymore and neither can she" | 🔞

Love on the brain | by @vendettaparker | "You suffer from a bad case of pregnancy brain, leaving Steve to hover over you, much to your annoyance." | ♡

Almost Got It | by @mentalpolaroids | "She’s a barista at a coffee shop and always screws up Steve’s name on purpose" | ♡

Tainted Love | by @megxplryxb | ☁ ♡

Tornado warnings | by @harringtonwebs | "You and Steve had a very intense relationship now that you're up, hates to see you with someone new." |

I will always be right there | by @familyvideostevie | "you come first. you’re always my first choice." | ♡

Tell me again | by @appocalipse | "Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?" |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Eddie Munson ↴ Oneshot ↴

Mechanic Eddie | by @whoahoney | "Reader’s shit box car pooped out on her once again, but at least the cute new mechanic seems eager to help." | ♡

Say you love me | by @marianita195 | "Based on the TikTok trend where girls don’t say “I love you” back to their boyfriends. " | ♡ ❈

Bookworm | by @corroded-hellfire | "Eddie has a thing for the local bookworm he just doesn't show it in the best way." | ☁ ♡

I'm Eddie - Eddie Munson | by @cosmal | "Your father finds Eddie in your room in the middle of something. eddie's a smug bastard." |

His glasses | by @pedgito | "Eddie in his glasses is just adorable" |

Grand Gesture | by appocalipse | "catching feelings for your best friend was never in your plans. when you start distancing yourself from him to protect your heart, eddie vows to do everything in his power to keep it forever." | ♡

Never Kissed | by cosmal | "eddies first date with you doesn't go how he'd planned and he hadn't even expected a kiss. still, you kiss him because you want to."

Series ↴

Worlds Apart | by @munsons-maiden | "You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected lifeline and turns your world upside down." | ☁ ♡

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Spencer Ried (CM) ↴ Oneshots ↴

Passive Agressive | by @ddejavvu | "Spencer’s stressed, and he takes it out on you. You’re sure it would have hurt far worse if he’d shouted, but instead, he broke you down bit by bit, his cold demeanour leaving you crying in your car." | ☁ ♡

Tactic Admissions | by @almostgenerallyalways | "Spencer lands in the hospital, and you have to come clean with yourself." | ☁ ♡

Days off with Spencer | by @justmyheart | ♡

Back to you | by @radiant-reid | "Spencer never thought she would love him the way he loves her, but he also never thought she would come back from the dead" | ☁ ♡

No hair for you, devil! | by @thyme-in-a-bubble |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Aaron Hotchner (CM) ↴ Oneshots ↴

Self-Made | by @her-storybooks | "The BAU gets a visitor who tares through the bullpen and leaves everyone in puddles of mush and exploded hearts." | ♡

Good for him | by @ptersparkers | "Aaron loves you. he hopes his son loves you as much as he does." | ♡

Better than morphine | by her-storybooks | "Broken Bone. When Y/N gets her leg broken by an UnSub, she clings to Aaron to help dull the pain." | ☁ ♡

Spontaneous phenomena | by @luveline | "Hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. Or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time Hotch does." | ☁ ♡

Old man problems | by @hoe4hotchner | "Can you possibly write an imagine where Hotch pulls his back on a case, and the fem'reader offers to help him work it out in a friendly way because she was once a licensed massage therapist? Aaron of course is hesitant but gives in and allows it. But it gets heated" | ♡

Sweeter than fiction | By @hotchgirlsummer | "The bau decides to throw a small birthday party for Hotch. the reader is tasked with baking a cake, could this be their chance to express feelings?" |

A solitary mistake | by luveline | " You're not sure you're ready to come back. Hotch has total faith in you. Or, your transition back into the team after your abduction doesn't go as smoothly as you'd hoped." |

I'm Sorry | by @14buddy22 | "Aarons been treating you differently lately" | ☁

New mom | by @marvelslut16 |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Thomas Shelby (PB) ↴ Series ↴

Challenge of a name | by @gypsy-girl-08 | "Y/N is new to Birmingham, she works at an accountant firm. In this part, The Shelby’s arrive at her office to pick up their accounts, where she meets Thomas for the first time. She was in a long-term relationship and is recently single, having moved for a fresh start. Still recovering from the split, she has no intention of meeting anyone else."

Tachipen | by @zablife | "With the flip of a coin, Tommy makes a deal to bring a 20 year old gypsy girl into the Shelby clan. Considering her too young to marry, he employs her as a nanny. When tragedy strikes, he’s forced to confront the truth he has always known." |

Angst | by @murphyoclock | "Your and Tommy's argument gets out of hand when you provocatively try to make him jealous at his charity party." | ☁

Oneshots ↴

Peaky caps and razorblades | by @acewritesfics | "y/n helps Tommy sew his blades into his cap." | ♡

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

John Shelby (PB) ↴ Oneshots ↴

Just play along | by @runnning-outof-time | "When the person who (Y/N) feels has been following her gets a little too close for comfort, she makes a quick decision that involves John Shelby and some good acting...or maybe no acting at all." |

Red lipstick | by @kkurades | "You feel flattered when charlie shelby asks to marry you while your husband feels like he could strangle his nephew" |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Alfie Solomon (PB) ↴ Oneshots

A very Shelby Christmas | by @cillmequick | "Alfie and his sassy little wife find themselves in the midst of the Shelby clan for Christmas because Alfie’s sister is in a relationship with Tommy." |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Steddie (ST) ↴ Oneshots

Cookies and consoling | by @mangchai | "After a hard day, you return home to your boyfriends who want to cheer you up." | ♡

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Billy (ST) ↴ Oneshots ↴

Bartender Billy | by @billysbabyy |

♠ ♤ ♣ ♧

Arvin Russel (TDATT)↴ Oneshots ↴

Mockingbird | by waitimcomingtoo | "Arvin joins a book club just to see you but has to pretend to be your boyfriend to stay"

Notes: This post only contains all longer fics I will be creating a separate post for shorter fics/ i.e. headcanons, imagines, drabbles and scenarios that I love. The link to that will be here → The little things.

[pichiru]

The Sun Also Smiles - Chapter 1

Chapters - [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Summary - With Mabel and Dipper's 16th birthday party on the horizon, Grunkle Stan takes to online dating to find a date for the party. Things start to get real weird real fast.

Word Count - 1,782

Pairing(s) - Stan Pines x OC

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, Mystery

A/N: Hi everyone! This is the first fanfic I've written in about 10 years! This is my first time posting my writing on Tumblr and I'm very, very nervous. The Grunkle Stan curse has consumed me whole… I'm not sure at the moment exactly how long this fic will be but it'll be a fun ride for us all! :3 I really hope you enjoy! Please feel free to leave feedback about how you feel about the story! I looooooove reading what everyone has to say and how you feel about stuff! It makes me so happy :D

~~~~~~~

“So…”

“Uh huh…”

“What you’re saying is…”

“Uhhhh huuuhhhh.” There was smiling, almost downright giggling, in her voice.

“You…”

“Uh huh!”

“Wanna…”

“EEEEEE!!!” She screeched quietly behind her prayer positioned hands while jumping in place.

“Start your own weird earring business?”

Mabel let out a loud ear piercing scream, causing Dipper to cover his ears quickly. Even at 15, almost 16, Mabel was still so excitable and bubbly. She never lost that part of her personality and she never would if she had anything to say about it.

“Mabel, is there even a market for that kind of thing?” Dipper asked his sister after she finally calmed down enough to have a conversation.

“Dipper…” Mabel started, her tone serious. “You have no frickin idea!” She squealed, jumping some more in place.

“Okay, say for instance I believe you and this is something you’re actually gonna commit to this time, how are you gonna get the materials?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Oh you know…” She said with a wide grin, nudging her brother in his ribs with her elbow. Dipper let out a groan, unfolding his arms to rub where she practically stabbed him.

“He’s not gonna go for it, Mabel. Him or Ford. Grunkle Ford would probably have war flashbacks if you even said the word ‘weird’ around him. Even if you whispered it,” Dipper said matter of factly.

“That’s what you think. You just don’t have the Mabel Pines charm. Or the puppy dog eyes. You’ve lost your edge. You’re too emo now,” Mabel sighed as she started reminiscing how cute and cuddly Dipper used to be. Now he’s just like Robbie. But somehow cooler? Somehow.

“Emo?! It’s called goth!” Dipper said, his voice cracking very slightly. His cheeks flushed, hoping Mabel wouldn’t notice. Her lack of reaction led him to believe she didn’t. But he figured she was just doing him a favor by not embarrassing him about it anymore. It got boring, he figured.

“Anyway,” Dipper started after clearing his throat a little. “I’d like to see you try to convince Stan to foot the bill for this. There’s no amount of 15 year old puppy dog face that’ll get him to do it.”

“Oh ye of little faith, my brother,” Mabel sighed, shaking her head as she started unpacking her luggage.

The twins begged and pleaded to stay with their grunkles for the summer. It was a big summer! Their 16th birthday. Ford and Stan agreed to return from their Stan o War II expeditions on the condition that they could plan a huge party for them before sending them back home. They thought it would be nice to do for the kids. Especially since they haven't really seen them since they turned 13. Dipper, however, has been keeping correspondence with Ford every week.

Mabel pulled a blazer out of her largest suitcase and held it up to Dipper with a wide, metal filled, grin. "I brought this just for the pitch! Hopefully it'll make Grunkle Stan take me seriously since all he does is wear a blazer in the shack. And dress pants. Come to think of it, he wears a full suit to work in a tourist trap," she said mostly to herself at the end.

"Did you get the blazer because you think it'll make you more grown up?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes slightly.

"Uh, duh, Dipper. Why else would I just have a blazer laying around as a teenager?" Mabel asked, rolling her eyes back.

Dipper had his back turned to Mabel but he smiled at her comment. He loved that his sister was so sarcastic and funny. It was one of his favorite things about her.

After about 15 minutes passed, they were both unpacked and settled into their old room. Ford had even convinced Stan to get the kids their own full sized beds, instead of the smaller twin sized beds. He thought it would make them feel more comfortable. He wasn't wrong though.

Dipper trudged down the stairs first, wanting to be witness to this disaster of a business pitch his sister was about to initiate. He looked around for a moment. It was eerily quiet. The only thing that could be heard was the clicking of a keyboard from the kitchen and hushed arguing. They obviously didn't want to be heard but they sucked at it, frankly.

He sighed and flattened his fingers against his hips to stick them into his pockets. He took a step towards the kitchen before jumping at a loud yell that startled him from head to toe. Of course it was Grunkle Stan's voice. Dipper rushed into the kitchen to see what was going on.

"Grunkle Stan?!" Dipper yelled, his hands gripping the doorway in terror. "Are you okay?!"

Ford and Stan looked to their nephew, confused about why he was so startled. They were huddled around a laptop on the kitchen table. Stan was sitting in front of the computer and Ford standing but leaned down to read what was on the screen.

"Are you okay, kid?" Stan asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dipper slowed his breathing to a normal pace before laughing it off. "Y-Yeah. I'm A-OK! I just..." He trailed off.

"Dipper, it's alright," Ford said as he walked up to his nephew and placed a solid hand on his shoulder. "We're just..." He looked back at his brother, who shook his head slowly, his mouth a hard line and his eyebrows flat. Ford turned his attention back to Dipper.

"Stan's trying online dating. He says he wants to have a date to your birthday party. I don't care about that sort of thing personally but..."

"SIXER!" Stan blurted as he started blushing furiously, hunching over the computer. "Always openin your mouth..." he grumbled to himself, knowing full well they both could hear him. "I just wanted to make a FRIEND that's not my brother, you kids, or Soos. Can't an old coot want that for himself?"

Ford and Dipper looked at each other with the same intrigued expression. Dipper straightened himself up and nodded.

"Yeah. You can definitely want that for yourself," he answered. "Have you...had any luck?" Dipper asked cautiously.

"Not really," Stan said curtly. He knew online dating at his age would be tedious but not _this_ bad.

"Actually, Dipper," Ford interjected. "Someone just messaged him back. Eagerly," he said, shooting a grin at Stan.

"Shut your trap! We don't even know if she's a real person," Stan grumbled as he typed on the laptop on front of them. "Or if she's a...what is it? Dogwhale?"

"Catfish," Ford and Dipper corrected in unison.

Stan looked at his brother and nephew, squinting his eyes at them. "Sometimes I wonder who's Sixer's twin here. Me or you, kid. Aside from the fact you look like The Cure meets Marilyn Manson these days." He turned back to the computer and continued typing.

"How do you know who Marilyn Manson is?" Dipper asked with much confusion in his voice.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Stan dismissed. "It's a good look on you."

Dipper blushed and rubbed the back of his neck shyly. "Oh! Thanks," he said quietly, looking around the room nervously. "It's a new thing."

"Some of the smartest people I knew in college were goths," Ford added. "Keep up the good work...er...look...Yeah." Ford looked between the other two and left the room quickly out of embarrassment.

"GRRUUNNKKKLLLEEE STAANNNNNN!!!" Mabel squealed as she rushed past Dipper into the kitchen with her blazer on haphazardly. She very obviously didn't know how to put it on to fit her correctly but that didn't stop her from trying.

Stan turned to look at Mabel who was standing there eagerly with a book under her right arm. He couldn't help but smile at his niece still being the same silly person she always has been. It always warmed every corner of his heart. Even though he'd never admit it.

"What's up, kid?" He asked as he leaned back in the chair and crossed his left ankle over his right knee.

ding!

"So! I have a proposition for you!" Mabel said as she pulled her book out and opened it.

ding!

ding!

ding!

"What is that?" Mabel asked curiously as she stepped forward towards Stan and the laptop.

"Nothing!!" Stan said as he slammed the laptop closed.

"Stan's doing online dating," Dipper said without thinking. He made a small noise then covered his mouth quickly.

There was an unsettling silence at first followed by a loud shriek of excitement followed by Mabel jumping up and down with the book still in her hands. "GRUNKLE STAN NO WAY! NOOOOO WAAAAYYY!! AH, I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!"

Stan and Dipper both covered their ears.

"Alright, alright, kid. That's enough. It's no big deal."

"IT IS SO A BIG DEAL!!! Have you met anyone yet? Did you ask anyone on a date?" Mabel asked rapidly.

"No and no," Stan said simply.

Mabel's entire disposition changed when he answered. "Oh... Well those dings from the computer sound promising! There was a lot of them too. Maybe it's multiple women trying to get your attention?"

"No. It's...It's one woman. I just met her," Stan said as he opened the laptop back up and went to the woman's profile. "Says here she's an artist, she loves period pieces, and loves all things Halloween. Don't really get the last part but the first two things? It makes her the dame of my dreams," he sighed with a smile. He quickly reigned himself back in and cleared his throat.

"Anyways, we're just...chattin right now. That's all. It probably won't even last a day. She's too good to be true. She's probably a...wazzit called, Dip?"

"Catfish," Dipper answered quickly.

"Yeah that. She's probably a catfish," Stan said sadly.

"Grunkle Stan," Mabel said softly as she walked over to him and sat her book down on the table. "I know you've led a hard life but you deserve happiness. So don't shoot it down before it's even had the chance to take flight," she advised wisely, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Wise words, kid," Stan said, accepting her advice. "I'll...give it a chance."

"YAY!!" Mabel squealed as she clapped her hands happily.

Stan's gaze snapped to the book in front of them. "Wazzat?" he asked, pointing with his chin. "And why the hell are you wearing a blazer? And wearin it like...that?"

A huge grin slowly spread across Mabel's face, showing every single color in her braces, at Stan's sudden interest. "Grunkle Stan...do I have a proposition for you!"

[justtea-andnonumberspls]

october 11th, friday

so, i wanted to post a fic on this monumental day, which led to me writing a quick little reader insert fic starring one of my favourite lesbians, chloe price. It's just shy of 700 words long, and i worked on it for exactly 3 days. I posted it on ao3 if that's someone's prefered reading site.

i'm so sorry if this is formatted badly, i don't really post here much.

Chloe Price x Reader

no content to warn about (that i would have thought of anyways), fluff

The early morning autumn sun sneaks in through the cracks of the blinds into you and Chloe’s studio apartment that you moved in just a few weeks ago. The space is stupidly small for two people, but with almost all the appliances and comforts you’d expect from a home, you both have settled into the space quite nicely. 

Chloe wakes up to her alarmclock with you clinging to her side. Before, she’d leave the radio on the clock playing so that she could get ready to some tunes, but with you still sound asleep by her side, she turns it off immediately. She untangles herself from you and slides out of bed carefully, making sure the blanket is still covering you fully. Chloe doesn’t get chilly very easily, but you seem to always run cold.

Chloe stretches and yawns while eyeing your sleeping form. Lucky bastard, she thinks to herself, with no malice whatsoever. You contribute to the bills as much as your part-time paycheck allows, but Chloe is without a doubt the breadwinner of the household, and she really doesn’t mind it. “It’s like a marriage in the 50’s, but without men, so it’s healthy”, she jokes, though that’s a very simple way to put it. Keeping you housed and happy works as a great motivator on the days when she really couldn’t be asked to be a responsible citizen.

Chloe squats down next to the bed to look at you closer. Your face squished against the pillow, eyelashes laying against your cheek like feathers and your lips slightly parted. Yeah, this is the reason she wakes up at the ass crack of dawn every day.

“The things i do for you…” she whispers as she brings up a finger and lightly strokes your cheek with it. A hand comes out from under the covers and rubs where Chloe’s finger was, before retreating back to the warmth. Chloe smirks. She rises and leaves for the kitchen to make a cup of instant coffee. You had almost got your apartment an actual coffee maker, but the price on them was a lot more than you’d expected, so you had to settle for the instant kind for now. Chloe doesn’t care much either way, but since you prefer the real kind of coffee, she has made it her next goal to get your apartment a coffee maker. She should be able to get one once her next paycheck rolled around. But for that, she had to drag her ass to work each morning.

With the instant coffee downed, clothes on and teeth brushed, Chloe returns to the bed, looking at the lump that is you underneath the covers. Uncharacteristically softly she climbs on the bed and lies down next to you, on top of the covers. She looks at your face quietly for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing. She needs to leave soon, but not without a goodbye.

She blows on your face lightly. Your eyelids twitch. She lightly swipes at the tip of your nose and gently pokes your cheek. Finally your eyes crack open carefully like a week old kitten’s and Chloes blurry face appears in front of you. She smiles at the groggy morning confusion apparent on your face. 

“Good morning, angel”, she says. You close your eyes and hum something vaguely resembling “morning” in return.

“I’m going to work”, announced Chloe. “I’m just collecting my kiss goodbye”, she grins.

All she gets in return is a tired “hmm” as you pucker your lips at her. Chloe’s heart flutters and she huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re so damn cute…” she mutters. You open your eyes just in time to see chloe reach out to you and gently grabbing your face with one hand, squishing your cheeks. She brings her face close and kisses your lips, smiling. She breaks the kiss and her face is still close to yours. “Now i can go and work on getting you that coffee pot.”

“Good”, you say as she gets up from the bed. 

Chloe grabs her keys, “See you tonight”.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  dartlekey! @dartlekey has 11 fics in the Stranger Things Fandom and 9 of them are in the Steddie tag!.

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @dartlekey:

If you were church (I'd get on my knees)

RUSH! (T4T REMIX)

At a medium pace

With great power

"I read the "with great power" series not long after I got into the Steddie fandom and was instantly like "I need to raid this author's other fics" and subscribed to them. No regrets for that choice!!" -- Anonymous

Below the cut, @dartlekey answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

For me, Steddie hits that sweet spot of strong characterization but woefully underexplored details, both for the individual characters but also their dynamic with each other in canon. That makes their relationship the ideal writer's sandbox - since they're both so fluid, you can explore the characters through each other, showcasing many different and even conflicting facets of each other while still retaining their original characters and behaviors. Either of them can be rich or poor, famous or an everyguy, Gay or Bisexual, Dom or Sub, Top or Bottom, Trans in any direction - the details are up to you! 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I love a good slowburn friends-to-lovers fic. It needs to be a specific kind for me though - I'm not much one for prolonged pining, but I love it when the friendship is explored in such depth that the next step feels like an inevitability. Watching that deep platonic affection turn not-so-platonic, that's the good shit. 

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My specialty as a writer, I think, is crack treated seriously, or crack with a twist. Usually the first question that sparks one of my fics is “If X happened, would that be hilarious or what?” and then the second is “But if it was because of Y, would that be fucked up or what?” I think you can see it best in If you were church I'd get on my knees (what if Steve was a stripper at Eddie's stag party BUT it was actually a social commentary on queerness and sexuality in the face of religious oppression), but it's in At a medium pace too (what if Eddie couldn't move his arms because of injury so Steve “has” to jerk him off, but it's actually about how growing up queer can warp your perspective on healthy sexuality) , or even in Don't look back (What if Eddie had to dom Steve for plot reasons, but it's all body horror and trauma and spiraling codependency). 

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

I don’t think I could name one all-time favorite, because what I enjoy most about fanfic is that different writers bring different character interpretations, storytelling styles and plot ideas to the table, which I find incomparable. I have enjoyed many of the well-known classics, of course (pukner I owe you my life--), but let me use this chance to give a shout-out to some less well-known masterpieces! My top three underrated fics are Three Days on the Red Planet by CaptainHoney/@grandmastattoo on tumblr (retro scifi, gritty but humorous hopepunk, every single fic of theirs is a certified banger but I love this one the most for some reason!!), Love dirty men alike by wrenowich (chef au, an ode to kitchen culture in all its griminess, I love a detailed backstory plus Steddie being wonderfully weird about each other), and That’s just wasteland, baby! by fastcardotmp3 (post-s4 apocalypse survival, sweet and aching and tired and yet hopeful, made me cry in the best way). 

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

One that's pretty unique to the steddie fandom, or perhaps general stranger things fandom, is “if canon event x had happened differently/hadn't happened at all/had happened to a different person, how would the rest of canon change?” I still need to work out a lot of details in my head, so that's all I'll say for now, but it's something I'm very interested in exploring.

What is your writing process like?

Much to the horror of fic writers everywhere, I don't do first drafts, I just write out everything in detail, scene by scene in chronological order. I edit as I go, and consider the many-numbered, often unplanned writing breaks an important part of my process - when I let the written portion sit for a while and the unwritten ideas percolate in my brain for a bit, I often end up with new plot points or solutions for problems I've been having! And when that inspiration strikes, I can write anywhere - on the train, during lunch break at work, in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store… I have gdocs on my phone and I use it liberally; I'd say I write at least 80% of any given fic on my phone. 

Do you have any writing quirks?

Apart from the hot mess I just described, I'd say it's that I never use Beta readers. I'll occasionally ask friends to help with specific details if I need an expert on certain subject matter, but I've found I get very grumpy and fussy if someone pokes at my plot (even if or rather especially if they’re right lol), and I don't want to subject anyone to that. 

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

For oneshots or series comprised of single-chapter fics I like posting as soon as I'm done, but for multi-chapter works I've recently found that starting to post only after I've finished most (if not all) chapters beforehand improves the quality of the story! Since I tend to integrate new ideas or shift around plot points a lot while writing, I often end up in completely different places than my original concept, so if an early chapter isn't posted yet I can retroactively edit it to add foreshadowing or tone-match the end of the work, remove loose threads and suchlike. Don't look back is a good example of how this has worked out for me; comparatively It don't bite (Yes it do) - which I wrote and posted chapter by chapter - is tonally all over the place. 

Which fic are you most proud of?

Naturally I love all my babies, but I consider Don't look back my magnum opus - both because it is the longest fic I've ever written (13 chapters and 90.000 words in total, that's practically a novel!) and because it's the most plot-rich, labor-intensive, and overall serious in tone. I even worked in subplots about the rest of the cast, so it almost reads like its own season. I wrote it for last year's Steddie Bigbang, which means there's also a gorgeous accompanying artwork by @the-chilly-kat. 

How did you get the idea for With great power?

At the time I'd seen a few marvel AUs floating past me on the tumblr timeline, usually with Steve as Spiderman and Eddie as the human component of Venom, and having just recently seen the Venom movie depicting the rich relationship between Eddie Brock and the symbiote, it surprised me that most left the symbiote as its own character, and not substituted one of the ST main cast. The symbiotic relationship of Stobin immediately came to mind, though I also still loved the idea of Steve as Spidey - then I remembered that in the Toby McGuire movies, the two are not mutually exclusive, and it all spiraled from there. Eddie as Deadpool just made sense - immortal wild-card with a dubious moral code but a heart of gold? Obviously! Plus Spideypool is, of course, a classic ship. 

When writing With great power, what was something you didn’t expect?

I actually got several curious comments about the sex toy Steve uses in Because the night - a grindable or grinder, which is a flat-ish silicone structure, usually ribbed in an interesting way, that one can grind against to get off (as the name suggests). I thought it was pretty common, but apparently it's not very well known!

What inspired  RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Oh, it's my time to gush! Because the idea for the first work actually came about from a late night conversation I had with the beautiful, amazing, wonderful @maikaartwork, back when we were, how should I say, in the courting stage? Seeing as we met through the Steddie fandom, I decided to write Baby Said basically to seduce them - and I am happy to say it worked, as we've been dating for over eight months now and are planning to move in together next year! Both works from RUSH! - T4T REMIX (and the secret new WIP, shh) are thus somewhat inspired by our conversations and our t4t relationship, but also by the many interesting and different trans people I've met over the years, and trans solidarity and relationships in general.

What was your favorite part to write from At a medium pace?

The small-talk in between position changes - no, really! I love a mindless marathon-fuck story as much as the next person, but there's something very sweet and intimate about those little breaks in sex, the pass the lube, move your leg a bit, what's for dinner later of it all. That's where you see that emotional connection - there's no admission of crushes or big love confessions in this fic because it's right there in the details.

How do/did you feel writing RUSH! (T4T REMIX)?

Honestly, it's just really really fun and self-indulgent. The Steddie dynamic in it is so bitchy, all the bickering makes me laugh even as I'm writing it. It's also just really fun to write about the trans experience in a way that is curious and loving, and reflects all the very different and yet similar ways people experience living in a body that defies expectation. I've loved all my fellow trans people sounding off in the comments about their own transition experiences, it's wonderful to have such a fantastic community!

What was the most difficult part of writing If you were church (I'd get on my knees)?

Curiously enough, not the many religious trauma bits! Much like Eddie in the fic, I'm only church-freak adjacent - I grew up in a non-religious household but with extended family that were extremely catholic, so the odd juxtaposition of being occasionally close to but definitely not involved in what is pretty much cult behavior inspired much of this fic. The most functionally difficult part to write was actually the wedding - as an aro-spec & trans relationship anarchist, church weddings have never been relevant to me, so I had very little idea what actually goes into one! Very little of the research I conducted on the topic actually made it into the fic, but hey, the more you know. 

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

People keep asking me that, and I never know what to answer! If I had to pick one, though, maybe the last few paragraphs of Don't look back - where you can see the tragedy coming, but there's no way of stopping it, because it was always going to end this way. And then Eddie's last words before the end of the fic call back to the title as well as the general theme of the fic - it just all comes together for such a crescendo of an ending. 

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

Yes, actually! Coming soon in the SteddieBang'24, me and my lovely artist @hawkinsleather have been working hard on a 20k post-s4 fic called A glimpse of your canvas, which is about closeted transfemme!Eddie, women's solidarity, and Steve's very confusing no-good trip to the gay bar. Both With great power and RUSH! (T4T REMIX) have another WIP pending which I'll eventually finish (I promise, I'm just easily distracted!!), and for those who are still mad about Don't look back’s open ending, I'm almost done with the sequel, which features a lot of bad decisions by all characters involved, the healing power of community, and a bit of accidental child acquisition. 

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Given the chance of this platform, I would like to notify my readers that I'm a terrible procrastinator when it comes to replying to comments, but I read and cherish every one of them - and repeat commenters, I see you, I love you, I am chewing on your arm like a dog with a bone!! I would also like to thank the steddie fandom in general for giving me the hottest partner known to man or God, and for the many friendships I've been so fortunate to build here. Talk about transformative works, am I right? <3 

Thank you to our author, @dartlekey, and our anonymous nominator! See more of dartlekey's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 3

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 4

PART 3

The rest of dinner is pleasant, but not terribly emotionally eventful, comparatively. You survive by telling stories about Helen from when you were children, which John listens to with a wistful look in his eye. Maybe it's the wine, and the excellent food, but that sharp edge in his obsidian eyes softens, somehow. It is endearing, and your heart aches more than it should.

You are so full you try to decline dessert, but the special is a chocolate mousse and John insists you should split one, even if you only have a bite. You are not sure if the waiter brings one spoon on purpose, but you watch with fascination as John takes the utensil between his long fingers and scoops up a delectable little nibble.

When he offers it to you from across the table you think you might die. You have had far too much wine to not do exactly what you want to now, which is to accept the sweet morsel between your lips while meeting his eyes, wishing it was something else.

Your panties are drenched by the time the meal is through. You know that you are the worst, living vicariously through your older, better, sister, but just in that beautiful moment, its hard to care.

You can always hate yourself properly tomorrow. 

John's hand finds a home at the small of your back as you are leaving. You know there are Feminist! reasons to hate when a man does that, but secretly it’s your kryptonite at the end of a long evening when there’s a crowd to navigate and you're tired and not really sure which way to go.

“Can I drive you home?” he asks, looking down that straight patrician nose at you. You could draw him from memory, you've studied his features so much tonight. You probably will, later, when you’re alone in your apartment with just the reminiscence of him.

“I live in Brooklyn,” you warn him.

He seems amused by this.

“I know.”

You pause for a moment at this. But then, it’s not so strange he knows. Helen could have mentioned it a hundred times.

“Okay.”

When the valet rumbles up in a sinister black American sports car, you lift an eyebrow. 

“This is yours?”

“Did you think I would drive a Mercedes like some kind of asshole?”

The next car in the valet line is a Mercedes, and the stodgy old dude behind you who just exudes Old Money looks like he's received an extra stick inserted in his ass. You huff, your lips twisting as you are fighting a grin.

“Usually I would make a crack about a midlife crisis, but it really does suit you.” You'd heard tell of The Car, but had never actually gotten to see it.

“Kind of you to say.” It’s so deadpan it takes a moment for you to realize he’s teasing you. 

He holds the door for you, and you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he has not taken anything you've said seriously, or personally.

“Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

The car is kind of bare bones inside, but it is undeniably cool. The sound of the motor is a tactile experience—you feel it in your bones as you pull away and take off down the street. You feel it other places too, as you look over at John seamlessly working the gears. Perhaps you look at him longer than what is polite, thinking about how once Helen used to sit in this seat, and they would undoubtedly go on adventures upstate, her cameras in tow.

You close your eyes, because you are tired, and you are thinking, and for the umpteenth time you are fighting tears. As you go across the Brooklyn bridge you roll down the window. The cool air helps clear your head.

The lights of the city at night from up high are a treat. Usually you're taking the subway.

Only once you arrive at your building and John parks on the street do you realize you never really gave him any directions. But once again, you shrug it off. 

There is a long moment of silence after he turns off the engine. The intimacy of an enclosed car at night, the weak light of the street barely intruding. “Do...you want to come up for a drink?” you ask, before you can really stop yourself.

Another long moment passes, as he looks at you in the shadows of the car, undoubtedly weighing the merits of this suggestion. His dark eyes glitter in the night, and your heart is in your throat, hoping he'll say yes.

“Sure.”

He is watchful as a hawk of the street as you make your way to the security door of your walkup. He frowns when you simply pull the door open, no working lock. 

“How long has that been like that?”

“At least a year. Shall we say the landlord moves at his own pace?”

“Give me his number.”

You laugh. “Ok.”

“I’m serious.”

You pause to look at him, his face half in shadow. A chill runs down your spine, the hair lifting on your arms; he is so beautiful, but there is something dangerous about this man. Something only your deepest instincts left over from the days of life in caves picks up on. It is…intoxicating, because somehow you know you are not the one who needs fear him.

Your landlord, on the other hand…you might be getting that new lock sooner than later.

You start to climb the stairs. When your heel catches the edge of the old wooden runner he is there, steadying you with a hand on your waist. You lean into him without a thought. He's taken charge of you, for the evening at least, and you are more than happy with the arrangement.

For the evening, at least.

Your key sticks in the vintage lock, the way it always does. The more modern deadbolt goes quicker. And then you are inside your humble sanctuary, and you can tell John is a little shocked by the cacophony before him. Helen liked the ordered balance of modern design, but you are a maximalist at heart. The walls are covered in art, your own, and friends’, and collected pieces as well. There are little shelves filled with curios from your travels and thrift stores around the city. What isn't filled with art is taken up by plants, on the floor, and side tables you have rescued from the curb over the years, and hanging from the ceiling too.

“Come on,” you say, taking his arm to guide him through. It's not actually messy. Everything has its place, and is fairly clean. The space is just full. “Have a seat. What do you drink?”

He lowers himself onto your cerulean blue couch, still looking around. It’s almost as though he forces himself to look back up at you.

“Bourbon, if you've got it.”

“Sure.”

You slide off your coat, hanging it on a vintage brass coat rack from an old hotel long defunct. 

“Ice?”

“A little.” 

You make his drink, and a vodka tonic for yourself. You cross the room to join him. “Thanks,” he says as you hand him his glass. 

“Sure.”

He is still surveying the room, and you are content to sit in companionable silence while he takes it all in, used to this reaction from newcomers.

“Did you make these?” he asks, looking to a cluster of small but highly detailed portrait paintings on the wall closest to you.

“Yes.”

They had taken months with a tiny 20/0 brush. You can be…obsessive, when a project grips you.

“Impressive.”

“Thanks.”

“May I...” He pauses, taking a deep draught, nearly finishing his drink in one go. “I overheard, this morning. About the piece, with Helen's photographs. I know Helen said you don't like people in your studio, but I was wondering...if I could see it.”

It dawns on you that this is the reason he agreed to come up. Possibly the reason he took you to dinner too. You are relieved, in a way, even if your heart aches a little for it.

Even though it’s true that you usually hate letting anyone into your studio, the place where you think and dream and create, the resting place for the unborn and half-finished creations of your imagination, you do not hesitate in your answer.

“Yes. Of course you can see it.”

You stand from the couch and hold out your hand to him without thinking, and he takes it. It’s as though you both know you're going to need a little extra emotional bolstering for the task ahead. You take him to the second bedroom that is your art studio. The smell of linseed oil and paint is heavy on first entry, though you are used to it.

Helen’s piece is still on your easel, the most recent thing you’ve finished. Usually you like to work small, but this canvas was five feet on both sides. It took you months to go through the boxes of photos she’d left you, then to lay it all out, deciding which photo went where according to value and structure. You could have done it easier with photoshop, but the personal quality of this project demanded completion by hand, from start to finish.

To complicate things more, you used a transfer technique to affix them to the canvas, giving the images a hazy dream-like quality. In between it all you had painted with miniscule strokes, miniature scenes and tiny embellishments, adding color, pumping up contrast and value. There were words she had said to you, short one sentence stories from your childhoods, and miniature daisies sprouting through the cracks. It was a galaxy of image and memory, each square foot containing a multitude. Yet when you stood back and unfocused your eyes, it was unmistakably her face looking back at you, larger than life, beautiful and filled with warmth.   

The subject of the photos ranged from her arty pieces of architecture and landscapes from trips she’d taken, to more candid shots of family and friends. There were also several images of John, and it occurred to you that maybe you should have okayed that with him. You’d been working in the pitch of such a fever dream with the materials Helen had left you, it hadn’t even occurred to you at the time to reach out to ask. You’d made this piece in a damn near fugue state, swinging between working rapaciously and crying in a ball on the floor. There had been some catharsis in finally finishing it, but the process had damn near killed you.

“I hope it’s okay…that you’re in it,” you say as he stands before the canvas, his exacting gaze taking in every detail of every inch.

He has not let go of your hand; in fact, his grip has tightened almost painfully upon your fingers. You don’t think he realizes he’s even doing it, and you let him hurt you, the way you’re pretty sure you’re hurting him with this visceral reminder of the life of the woman he’d loved.

“I’m honored,” he says, his voice hoarse with emotion, his jaw clenched. “Such a full life she lived.”

“Only the good die young,” you answer, barely able to raise your volume above a whisper against the constriction in your throat. “It’s not fucking fair. All the horrible people in the world…and the fates took her.” Your voice cracks. Your eyes are burning, and you know you are on the brink of losing your shit again. He pulls you in against him, and there are no arguments this time about preserving his suit or your dignity. It’s too easy, to settle into the solid warmth of his chest. This man feels like he could be a bastion against all that is bad in the world; it is hard not to wish to just stay there beneath his chin forever.

“I would have traded, if given a choice,” you whisper into his collarbone. “In a heartbeat.”

“Me too,” he answers. “But she never would have allowed it. She loved you beyond measure.”

You give a tinny, sad little laugh—or maybe it’s a sob—for the tragedy of it all. You know that no one—no one—will ever love you the way Helen did. Will ever protect you, the way Helen did. You will wander the Earth for the rest of your days with a Helen-shaped hole in your heart that will never heal.

“I know she felt the same about you.” Minutely you lift your head to look up at him. “It’s easy to understand why.” You touch his face lightly, wiping away the tear that is hovering on the blade of his cheekbone with the side of your thumb. When you realize how casually you have invaded this man’s personal space, this man who has been so kind and tolerant of you, you try to draw away. But his hand covers yours on his cheek, the scruff of his beard surprisingly soft beneath your palm.

Your eyes meet, and you can see that John is drowning in the loneliness of so much loss. You reckon you look about the same; this day has left you feeling like you fed your heart through a meat grinder. Pushed to the brink, perhaps there is little wonder that when his face descends, you do nothing at all to fight it.

Yet he does not kiss you.

His lips hover above yours, and you think you might expire of longing, caught in the limbo of waiting. He brushes the tip of your nose with his. It is almost unbearably sweet. You feel like it’s a gesture between two people who have been in love for ages. A remembered gesture, a sweet habit left from a different relationship, a different woman you resemble, but can never really be. 

You should stop this. You should back away before you both get hurt. But then his lips touch yours, and any small amount of resolve you might have worked up to do the right thing shatters.

At first it is the simplest press of lips; light, and sweet. He is shaking; or maybe it’s you who is? He rests his forehead against yours, savoring the moment, or trying to talk himself out of whatever it is he is about to do.

It’s his choice, you know.

You no longer possess the willpower to stop him either way, and your wicked heart rejoices when he leans in to kiss you again. Still, he is gentle with you, as though you are a thing in his grasp that might break.

 He isn’t wrong about that, and yet as the kisses go on, you feel it in him when something snaps—the change is sudden, and visceral, and you cannot withstand the onslaught as he slants his mouth over yours. It is like being caught in a hurricane, grabbed up by his inexorable strength and the fury of his desire. You’re not really a small woman, but he maneuvers you like you weigh nothing at all, backing you into the wall.

You know it’s wrong, somewhere in the back of your head, but it feels so good. Or maybe, it could be right? Maybe it could be ok, to take comfort in this certain someone who also loved the person you lost. Doesn’t that balance, somehow?

You are full of shit, but you also don’t care.

All you know is that he’s hiked your leg over his hip as he’s kissing you, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing into your center, and you might collapse with the heady pleasure of it all.

You reach for his belt, but he catches your hands, panting as he presses his forehead against yours again. “Let me touch you?” His words are laced with such a mix of fragility and need that you know no matter what he asks you for tonight, you won’t say no.

A trembling sigh escapes you as you nod, and he kisses you again, hard and hungry and you’ve never surrendered so willingly to anyone before in your life. He’s running a hand up your thigh to the molten core of you, pushing your underwear aside to slide a single long finger inside your desire-slicked body, and you are lost.

Utterly wrecked, and irrevocably lost. 

He toys with your swollen little clit with his thumb while he finger fucks you, his mouth on your neck and you are so close, before he picks you up all together like you weigh fucking nothing, and walks you to the couch in the other room. A vague thought enters the cloud of your sex-addled brain, a small sense of relief that he has removed you from Helen’s watchful gaze on the easel.

Any guilt you might feel vanishes with the thrill of him dropping you on the soft cushions, which is only topped by him dropping to his knees before you in that beautiful suit, (that beautiful suit!), and hooking his fingers in your panties, practically tearing them down your thighs.

There is a moment of eye contact, that burning dark stare that bores a hole straight to your soul, before he falls on you like he means to devour you whole and lick the bones clean. You’ve never felt anything like his furious mouth on you, the hard licks and soft kisses, the circling of his tongue around your clit, the relentless pleasure he mercilessly bestows until your back is arching and you cannot stop and you cannot wait, you are cumming in his mouth.

It’s the most magnificent thing you’ve ever felt, this fierce and fiery pleasure that is like fireworks inside your cunt and across your skin, and he keeps licking you slowly through the tremors and the aftershocks until you beg for mercy.

There is a moment of reverent quiet, while he rests his cheek on your thigh, your hands stroking his long dark hair. But when you try to reach for him, “Come up here,”—you are suddenly in his arms again, and he is carrying you to your bedroom, laying you down. You expect him to climb in with you, but with a flourish he covers you with the sheet, effectively trapping you, pressing a hard but reverent kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest, y/n.”

“Wait!” you plead as he is walking to the door, dizzy from the whiplash of this change of direction. You hate the desperation in your voice but at the moment you’re unable to care. “Where are you going?” Even you can hear how pathetic you sound.

He stops in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder. His profile is half in shadow. He looks like a masterpiece by Carravagio, beautiful and terrible to behold. You want to paint him in this moment, almost as badly as you want to fuck him.

“I’m going home.” You cannot tell if that is regret in his voice, or pure exhaustion?

“Why?” You know you sound wretched, like the lost little girl you are inside.

“Good night, y/n.”

Then he is gone like a shadow, like he’d never been there at all. You barely even hear the front door snick shut. If it was not for the glorious soreness between your legs, maybe you would have thought it was all just a magnificent dark dream your twisted little imagination thought up.

You weren’t usually prone to such dramatic thoughts, but it was possible that John Wick had just ruined you for all other men, and you didn’t even get to see him naked.

PART 4>>

Part 1 Part 2

[ecoamerica]

Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

[sitp-recs]

Hello!! Hope youre doing well <3 Do you have any kid fics u could recommend??? I'm mainly looking for crack fics but anything would do the job tbh :) Thank youu

Hi anon! I’m hanging in there, what about you? Kid fic is not my usual jam but I’ve read a few shorts and am sharing them below. Oh, and I’ve heard great things about The Lesson of You by thecouchsofa - you might want to check it out!

Blue Sky Is Living Here Today by ignatiustrout (G, 5k)

Draco's a father, Harry's in love with him, and it's really hard to take things slow.

A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.5k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

Our Ordinary Days by Lomonaaeren (M, 8k)

Two men, both fathers of sons, meet in a bookshop. And the rest is the kind of history that doesn't make history.

Little Talks by Femme and noeon (E, 11k)

Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.

Take the Moon by @tackytigerfic (M, 15k)

Harry Potter has always wanted a family of his own, and when a deadly blood curse forces him into a marriage bond with his best friend Draco Malfoy, it looks like he might just have found one. It's just a shame they’d always planned to break up after a year…

The Strongest Affinity by @eidheann (T, 17k)

Trouble finding a wand for Scorpius leads Harry and Draco to something they never imagined.

DIY Messiah by scoradh (M, 26k)

Harry stopped hating Draco Malfoy on Bring Your Kids to Work Day. Cw: infidelity (Hinny)

And some recs with a side of humor:

Dad Says by GallaPlacidia - can be found HERE

The Whole Set by @dracogotgame (G, 2k)

Four times Harry and Draco just knew what House their kids would get sorted into...and what actually happened.

Dating Potters by GoldenTruth813, Mzuul (E, 8k) - Drarry, Scorbus, Jeddy

Scorpius and Albus have been together for awhile now and decide it's time to have a family dinner and come out to their fathers. What they're not counting on is the fact that they're not the only ones with secrets to share.

Dating for Dads in Denial by @aibidil (T, 25k)

In which one wizard designs and another reluctantly patronises a magical matchmaking service, amidst the chaos of children and parenting.

Desperately Seeking... by @maesterchill (E, 34k)

Harry Potter is NOT desperate for someone to love. He DOESN'T need anyone's help to find a date. And he CERTAINLY doesn't want to go on a dating show! Unfortunately for him, his teenage children have other ideas. After all, they know just how big and loving (and a little bit lonely) their dad's heart is.

There's a Pure-Blood Custom For That by Lomonaaeren (M, 106k)

The day that Harry stops Draco Malfoy and his son from being bothered in the middle of Diagon Alley starts a strange series of interactions between him and Malfoy. Who knew there was a pure-blood custom for every situation?

[macabr3-barbi3]

new love, new skin (Vox x OC)

"When Vox falls to Hell in 1958- when he is still Vincent- he meets her; sweet, beautiful, golden Kora, who fixes his busted screen and gives him something he hadn't known he was missing. How long can a good thing last until it falls to pieces?"

(Hi everyone I have an actual OC now that I'm working on a series for! I hope you love her as much as I do and a big thanks to @fraugwinska for helping me plan and develop her character and being her biggest fan so far ❤️If you read my oneshot request 'Heart Reset' this is that same character- that will be left as Reader Insert though and can still be read separately from this series 💕 the series will provide more context to their relationship before the events in that fic)

Tags: First Meetings; First Kiss; Falling In Love; shitty apartments; adding tags as I update so things aren't as spoiled lol; Vox goes by a different name; Fluff and Angst; lots of fluff; Lots of Angst; fast burn lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55804729/chapters/141678643

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

January 1958

There’s a body crouching over him, soft wisps of hair trailing over his bare chest as he squints against the red of the morning.

What was that fucking phrase? Red in the morning, sailors take warning, or some shit along those lines. Sound logic if the aching pain in his skull was anything to go by- he’d have to give Ma a ring, tell him that one of Pop’s shitty old sayings finally made some sense to him. But God, if he wouldn’t kill someone for an aspirin right now. His head ached, some distant pain behind his left eye that throbbed through his entire body, and he lets out a soft moan when he tries to open it and his head splits with the agony of it.

“Hold on,” a quiet voice tells him- the sound is a balm to his fried nerves. “Give me just a minute, I’m trying to find- yes! ” There’s metallic clanging close to his head before its lifted from the ground and placed on something soft- a jacket maybe? What had he been laying on before? “Don’t open your eyes yet,” the voice tells him, and part of him wants to resist- who the hell did they think they were telling him what to do? - but it's overridden by the pulsing pain in his head that says that’s actually probably for the best. He lays there as the person- he thinks it might be a woman- fiddles with something next to him. He opens his mouth to ask her a question-

And the next thing he knows he’s propped up against a wall in some sort of dump, the throbbing behind his eye gone and no longer having to squint to see. The sky is still red, which is weird, but he ignores that in favor of looking at what’s around him. There’s busted glass and plastic nearby, a cracked television lying on its side, a pile of rusted wires and tools and what could be his shirt, maybe. He didn’t remember what he had been wearing when he passed out but it looks to be roughly his size even if it is covered in blood. Then again, maybe that was just a side effect of the weird sky. He tilts his head up to look at it and- fuck, yeah, he’s still a little too dizzy to be doing that. He brings a hand up to his head, to rub at the sockets of his eyes like he usually did, and his fingers bounce uselessly against glass when he hits some kind of glass.

“Shit, you’re awake,” he hears to his left, and he turns to see this woman- at least, he thinks its a woman- approach him, crouch low to the ground like he’s some rabid animal. She… almost looks like a dog, he thinks, like a golden retriever but a little more human in the face besides her nose and the floppy ears that adorn the top of her head. Her arms are covered in a dusting of fur that reminds him of his ma’s dog back home, soft and silky from the looks of it where her limbs stick out from the men’s t-shirt she wears. “Don’t freak out,” she says, eyebrows drawn in a way that implies that she definitely thinks he’s going to freak out.

He watches her sit on her knees next to him and then she’s reaching out to touch him- hands on either side of his face, turning his head left and right. She runs her fingers up the side of his head and it… doesn’t feel like he thinks it should. He makes a noise of protest and she smiles at him, sharp little canines peeking out from the crooked grin. “What’s your name?” She asks him, and it takes a second longer than it should before it comes to him.

“Vincent,” he tells her, “but I don’t- why did I forget it?”

“I’m Kora,” she offers with a hand held out, and he doesn’t look down as she says it, just lets her shake his arm. “Forgetting is normal at first- stuff will start to come back to you.” She goes back to her inspection of his face and head, and he finally has the sense to pull back.

“Where am I?” He finally asks, and her smile falters only slightly as she stands, holds a hand out to him to take to help him up. He braces an arm on the wall and stands without her help, legs trembling a bit until he straightens his stance, head feeling oddly heavy. “What did you do to me?”

She fiddles with her hands before him, and he notices that she has little black claws on the ends of her fingers. “I… really think you should be sitting down, when I tell you,” she says, and when he shakes his head she sighs. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. This,” she says, gesturing around the dump, “is Hell. The Pride Ring, if you want to get technical. As far as what I did- I helped you.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” he says with a nervous chuckle. “So I died, huh? Knew it was coming for me, doll, I guess I just didn’t think it would be so soon.” He looks around the area, finally recognizes that the red in the sky was coming from a giant pentagram that stretched beyond his vision- very on brand. “How did I die?” 

The woman- Kora, he reminds himself- looks away. “I’m not sure,” she tells him. “I wasn’t with you when you died. I just… happened to be nearby as you fell.” 

“As I…” He looks up at the sky, distant blurs coming through the atmosphere like stars, and it hits him like a truck- the searing pain as he hurtled through the sky, flesh burning, body shifting and reshaping before he had struck the ground, the blossoming pain, agonizing crunch when he had landed on his head. His hands fly up at the memory, trying to grip at his hair like he used to when he was stressed and finding a smooth plastic surface with no grip, nothing to hang onto. The thread of his sanity tightens, threatens to snap as he feels around like she had, to the back of his head- a clunky old television , not unlike the one that sat on the ground a few feet from them- and the now smooth surface of his face.

“I… I did the best I could,” Kora says quietly, and he snaps his head to look at her. “I don’t really have a lot of knowledge about electronics but it wasn’t too hard to match the wires up to the new one when I followed those from the old one. I think the wire for your left eye got damaged in the fall though- there’s probably an expert around here somewhere, or there will be one in the next few years if you really want to get the color fixed…” She keeps talking but Vincent has turned away from her, dropped to his knees in front of the old television on the ground- his fucking head mere hours ago, apparently- and uses it to look at his reflection. 

And fuck, yeah- he was a television, alright. Just like the one at his ma’s place, thick rimmed frame in that tacky yellowish white. Not even one of the nice ones like he had had at the news station. His eyes are huge and red, one outlined in the same electric blue as his pupils, and when his mouth drops open in disbelief he sees the teeth. Huge, razor sharp, they seem to grow and warp with his mouth as he moves it, testing expressions. He lets his lips hang open and sticks his tongue out, pulls at it with his fingers. It had to be Hell, because no way would something like this be possible anywhere else. How could he have a screen for a face and still have a functional mouth and tongue?

He starts to laugh, low and manic, cutting Kora off in the middle of whatever she had been talking about. He couldn’t even remember how he died, how fucking funny was that? And now he was in Hell, no clue how he got there, basically freshly lobotomized into a new head, and his only companion was a mutt that wouldn’t stop fucking talking to him. She approaches him cautiously, hands held out in front of her like he might bite- fuck, with these teeth, maybe he should. “Get the fuck away from me,” he laughs, and he can feel the thread pull taut, stretch to its limits as he laughs and backs away from her, away from his old head, into the wall.

She drops to her knees in front of him, isn’t put off by his laughing or snarling in her face. “It’ll be okay,” she says, and reaches a hand out to his face. It comes away wet - how the fuck was he crying right now? “I promise, it’s okay. You’ll be fine.” His laughter dissolves into sobbing, and he can’t tell how his head ended up wedged against her shoulder with her arms around him.

It’s a good fit though, and he guesses that counts for something.

With some effort, since his legs didn’t seem to want to work, Kora manages to get him back to her little apartment outside of a place called Imp City. Vincent had tried to help- he really had- but his body felt limp, television head slumped uselessly against her shoulder as she essentially dragged him. He pulls himself together and apologizes to her at least, because his mother raised a goddamn gentleman, and she waves it off. “Already did it once,” she says cheerfully, “I had to drag you to the junkyard when I saw that your head was… you know.” She gestures to it as she helps him settle on the couch, head falling back against the firm cushion. “I saw that your mouth opens- do you want some coffee? Or water? It’s not as good as it is on Earth but hey, it’s something!” She flutters around the kitchen area, the faint smell of ground coffee beans filling the tiny space, and Vincent takes a look around while she burns off some of her apparent nervous energy.

He had seen some shitty apartments before but Jesus - the place was a shithole. It was neat enough, he supposed, Kora’s things put away neatly on the limited shelf space that she had, a soft green blanket draped over the back of the couch that he runs his hands over. But paint peeled off the walls in chipping swatches; strange stains covered the ceiling; there was a gap where the window met the sill, and a warm breeze was drifting through it. He could hear faint yelling from both sides and above them, and it reminded him so much of his first dorm in college that he can’t help but chuckle.

Kora’s head turns to him, one ear quirking up in curiosity. “Sorry,” Vincent says, “just. This place is a dump. No offense,” he adds when her face falls.

She still offers him a smile. “You’re fine; I know it's not great but it’s what I can afford and it was close to my- my friend.” Her eyes go distant for a moment, lost in thought staring at the wall behind him until she shakes her head. “But this is where we are anyway- you don’t have to stay, of course. I just figured you could rest here for a bit before you go on your way. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m okay, I think. I mean, besides-” He waves vaguely at his head as she hands him the cup she holds, taking a deep gulp of the too-hot coffee. It scalds his throat on the way down, which he should probably be more upset about, but he’s mostly just pleased that he has sensation at all. He would have to find some spare time to really inspect his body beyond the head swap and the new sharp tips to his fingers, blue and pointy where they’re wrapped around the mug with some cheesy, upbeat saying on it. His skin is blue as well, a dark navy that continues up his arms. “So what am I gonna owe you for all this?” 

Her brows quirk up. “For the coffee? Nothing. I’ll pay you to take it off my hands.” She smiles at him, a little peek of sharp canines as her lips part. 

“Nah, for helping me. I’m not dumb, I know nothing comes for free in life- I assume it's the same in the afterlife if that’s what this shit is. I don’t have any money, you know.”

She shakes her head, the gold of her hair glinting in the glow from the shitty light that hangs overhead. “Nothing owed- there’s no debt. I really am just trying to help.”

“Then you’re stupid,” he says bluntly, manners slipping out the gap in the window, and to his amazement she doesn’t take offense- she laughs, loud and bell-like in the small room, the sound occupying all of the space between them.

She swaps cups with him, replacing his empty one with her full one that she had yet to take a sip of. “Maybe I am,” she shrugs, “but you’re reaping the benefits either way, aren’t you?” She pours the last of the coffee into the mug she took from him and settles onto the floor, leaning back against the cabinet under the sink. Better Latte than Never, the ceramic tells him from across the room where its held in her hands, and she smiles up at him from her new position. “The way I see it- you’ll either also be a good person and be thankful that I’m helping you, maybe wash the cups when we’re done as a sign of gratitude; or, you’ll fly off the handle and kill me, in which case I would be back in a couple days anyway and we’d have to do this again.”

He hesitates, surprised when his head lets off a staticky hum. “What if I’m a good person and I’m thankful but I don’t do the dishes?” He takes one had off the cup he still holds- Bean There, Done That, this one says- and waves his fingers at her. “I’m not sure if all of me is electronic in some way. I’m not trying to get electrocuted so soon after… fuck, why can’t I remember how I died?” 

The look she gives him feels like pity, makes him want to snarl and show off his new, sharp teeth. “It happens for a lot of people. Your mind kind of has to re-acclimate, process all the new information, the new form. It’ll come to you soon, I’m sure.”

“Do you remember?”

She flinches, the lines of her face deepening a bit as she stares down into her coffee, still untouched. “I do- I wish I didn’t, sometimes, but it’s always there in the back of my mind, you know? Everyone is different though.”

Vincent sighs and moves his hand like he means to brush his hair back, the action purely muscle memory before he remembers that he doesn’t have hair anymore. “Gotcha. I guess I could at least stick around that long, until I remember just to make sure no one is out for my head or anything.” He looks down at himself, remembering now that his chest is bare from where she had apparently taken it off him to use as a pillow in the junkyard. “You wouldn’t happen to have any clothing I could borrow, would you?”

“Oh, of course!” She picks herself up off the ground, sets her still untouched coffee back on the counter and dips through a door in the hallway, emerging with her spoils that she throws to him- a large black t-shirt that simply says fuck in slanting cursive. “I can swing by somewhere later and get you some other things, that might be a little tight on you since you’re bigger than I am.” Kora watches him for a moment, her cheeks flushing a bit before she turns away. “You know what I mean. Broader in the shoulders and all.”

His smile feels strange on his new face, but it's genuine at least. “Gotcha. Thanks, doll.” He chuckles a little at the way that she makes a point of turning around while he put the shirt on, stretching tight but not uncomfortably across his chest despite how oversized it probably was on her. With her turned around he can see the tail that sticks out of a hole in the back of her pants, long and fluffy and the same gold as her hair. 

Decently clothed, he indicates that she can turn back around, and she swaps their cups one last time. She pulls a jacket off the back of the door and slips her arms through it, and at his raised eyebrow- or, he figures, the image of a raised eyebrow- she grabs a bag off the floor, full of what appears to be things like newspapers and small packages. “Happy as I was to help you, it did make me late- I was just stepping out for an early morning walk when I noticed you falling, and fixing your screen took a little longer than I thought it would. You’re free to hang out until I come back- or I guess you could rob me blind if you’re that desperate for a couple books, punny coffee mugs and a blanket. That would show me, huh?” Kora’s smile is soft but he can see the vague uncertainty behind it- maybe she did think that’s what he was planning.

Vincent shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll try to resist the urge,” he says, and her face brightens.

“You can make more coffee if you want,” she says. “And you’re welcome to read anything on the shelves- there’s not much but maybe that will also be a deterrent to stealing them.” She glances at the clock on the wall, indicating a mere nine in the morning. “I’ll have to go right from the hub to Viv’s- its a diner nearby, just a little extra cash,” she explains when he gives her a confused expression. “But I should be home before midnight… if you’re still here.” She finishes her little speech, looking a little embarrassed. “You can also leave though if you want! I’m not gonna like. Hold you hostage or anything.”

The smirk that takes his face over feels natural, finally- a face he used to make that he can make again, the memory of his muscles not betraying him with something that doesn’t feel the same. “I don’t think you could if you tried,” he says, looking her over, and Kora flushes and fumbles with the straps of her bag. 

“Drug your ass here from the junkyard, didn’t I? I’m stronger than I look.” She lifts her chin in defiance, the move letting her catch sight of the clock again. “Shit, I really gotta go- maybe see you later, Vincent?” She says it like a question instead of a statement, the tilt of her eyebrows hopeful.

“Yeah,” he finds himself saying, “I’ll still be here. I’ll stay.” She flashes him a brilliant smile and ducks out the door, lock clicking into place. Vincent sees her through the window unhooking a bike from a lamppost, throwing her hair up into a ponytail before she catches sight of him through the window. She throws him a wave and she’s off, bike shooting down the street and leaving him behind.

It only takes an hour or so to get bored of lounging on the couch after Kora leaves, and then he’s walking down the short hallway and opening the first door he finds- the bathroom. He strips all the way down, pants and borrowed t-shirt folded neatly on the toilet while he inspects himself in the mirror that hangs off the back of the door.

At least he was still fucking hot, he muses to himself, twisting his torso to get a good look at every inch of himself. Thankfully, everything from his neck down appeared to be normal biology; when he looks a little closer at a deep gouge in his neck he thinks he might be able to see some wires but he doesn’t want to mess with it, risk messing something up so badly that he dies again. His blue skin is covered in blood from the cut, and he rifles through the cabinets to find a washcloth, wiping himself down gently and throwing it in the sink. He continues his inspection- his muscles are still lean and firm like they had been when he was alive. He even had some cool stripes along his ribs and thighs and biceps, scar-like in texture when he touched them. He flexes at himself in the mirror, lets that cocky smile take over his features, and-

Yeah, there he was; even if his face looked a little different now, that was the Vincent that he knew himself as. Confident. Self-assured. Strong. Sexy. He appreciated Kora’s help, he wasn’t ungrateful, but he probably would have been fine on his own. Eventually, anyway.

He examines his back, the stripes extending across the expanse of it before wrapping around the sides. After a solid examination he lets his eyes fall between his legs, satisfied enough with what he sees- he takes himself in hand for just a moment, another minor inspection to make sure everything seems to be in working order, before he pulls his clothing back on and crosses the hall to the other room.

Kora’s room. It smells like coffee and almond, her bed haphazardly made with threadbare sheets of pale yellow and dark blue. There’s a table under the window with what looks like an assortment of junk on it- when he gets closer he can see that it’s… still an assortment of junk, but themed junk. Beads, colorful pieces of paper, scraps of metal and a variety of colored markers and pens. There are little sketches on the papers and what looks to be the start of a piece of jewelry that Vincent picks up to inspect. A little pawprint made of bits of metal, like one might see on a dog collar. He chuckles and slips it into his pocket- he figures if he does end up leaving this would be something to remember the strange woman by, a little token of her kindness to him.

He briefly glances in her closet, a couple dresses and pairs of trousers hanging. Her t-shirts and undergarments occupy the drawers of the dresser, neatly folded along with her pajamas. There’s a photo on her nightstand, Kora and someone that looked like a bat, winged arm slung over her shoulder and a close-lipped smile on her lips.

Was this her friend that she said lived nearby? The reason that she stayed in this shitty place?

He exits the bedroom, closing the door behind himself and coming back to the living area. There are sticky notes everywhere; on the dying plant by the windowsill (fucking water me!!!), on the fridge (low on eggs and milk), on the coffee table (talk to Viv about changing shift). He looks through her kitchen drawers- two sets of silverware, he notices- and moves on to the shelves that line the walls. Duplicates of titles he had seen or heard of on Earth, low budget cookbooks, anatomy and medical texts for both human and non-human beings. He briefly glances through the latter, but can’t seem to find anything about bodies only partially made of mechanic materials just flipping through the pages.   

He picks a couple of books off the shelf- the Chronicles of Narnia, the covers say, which might be a little low grade for him but he didn’t have the mental capacity to really focus on anything other than not dying a second time out of boredom.

Vincent is a third of the way through the second book when the lock of the door turns and Kora enters, setting her bag on the floor and slipping off her shoes before she turns and sees him stretched comfortably across the couch. “You’re still here!” She picks up the bag and thrusts it towards him, forcing him to dog-ear the page he was on so he didn’t lose his place to take the offered package. “I brought some leftovers from Viv’s- I didn’t know what you liked so I just got a bit of everything, you go ahead and take what you think you want and I’ll take whatever is left.” She grabs a couple plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the coffee table. “Let me change and swap out the sheets on the bed- you’re taller than I am so you can take the bed-”

He puts a hand up- he was fine accepting help but he drew the line at letting her sleep on the couch. “Wait, hold on Kora-”

She halts in the hallway. “Are you not staying?”

“No! No, I mean- I am staying for now but I don’t want to put you out. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She snorts, a rough, charming noise that echoes in the hallway. “You’re sure about that?”

Vincent shrugs, his smile feeling a little more normal again. “I’ll figure it out. A gentleman would never displace a lady from her bed.” He shoots her a wink, making her blush and scurry into her bedroom. He opens the container she had handed him and takes a deep sniff of the meal, his mouth watering as he forks some of the meat and potatoes and vegetables onto one of the plates. As a courtesy he puts the rest of it on her plate, as close to even as he could get it. 

When Kora reemerges her hair is pulled into a loose braid, wearing another oversized t-shirt that hangs to the middle of her thighs. It should be scandalous, for her to have so much skin exposed, but… it suited her, he thought. She looked comfortable, and cute. And really- it was Hell. Who was left to judge her here? Or him for that matter, if he watched the muscles of her legs flex as she crossed the room to sit across the table from him, smiling at the plate he had prepared for her.

She notices the book that he had been reading, fussing for a bit at the folded page where he marked his spot and using a bit of paper on the stand from the restaurant as a makeshift bookmark. They talk a bit about the books, her having read what was out of the series before she died and waiting for the rest of them to trickle their way down from up top. She’s a good conversationalist, he’s surprised to find, and they pass a good bit of time chatting before the weight of some good food in his stomach and the stress of the day hits him like a truck, his yawn making his screen warp and stretch. She notices- of course she does- and is immediately rushing around again, racing to get a pillow, another blanket, did he need the radio on?

“Kora.” She pauses mid stretch onto her tiptoes, already having brought a pillow and another blanket and now reaching for a radio that sits on a higher shelf in the room and switching it on. “You’ve done enough for me today. Thank you, but seriously- I’m fine. Go to sleep.”

She goes flat again, arms crossed and fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt. “You’re right- God, yeah, sorry, I just get- Right. Sorry.” She offers him a smile, pulling her braid over her shoulder and flicking the end of it. “I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

He finds himself nodding, even as he’s wondering how loudly the door would squeak if he crept out after she fell asleep. “I’ll be here,” he says. “Good night.”

“Night, Vincent.” She exits the living area, the sink running in the bathroom- brushing her teeth maybe? - before her bedroom door opens and closes.

He watches the clock, giving it an hour before he rises from the couch and approaches her bedroom. The door opens silently, not so much as a creak, and his excuse he had come up with for if she was still awake dies on his lips when he sees that she’s completely out, face slack and sweet in sleep. He closes it behind himself and heads for the front door.

She was a nice woman, and he appreciated her help. But he didn’t need her- he didn’t need anyone taking care of him. He would find his own way like he had on Earth, what little bits he can remember. He would rise on his own without any help. Hell couldn’t be that much different.

He hesitates for a moment before swiping the book he had been reading off her table to take with him. He would probably have to find the rest of the series somewhere, eventually, but he couldn’t just leave something half finished now that he had started it. He gets to the door, even goes as far as unlocking and twisting the knob before he realizes that he doesn’t have any shoes. He was determined to be self-sufficient again but really- there was only so much a man could do with no shoes.

And no money.

And nowhere to live.

He still opens the door and peeks out into the street, the night quiet and the red of the pentagram distantly glowing. Its dark and a little smelly, strange shadows around every corner, fucking eyes on the mailboxes and shit. He turns back to Kora’s apartment; softly lit by light of the radio screen; small but comfortable and homey. 

He closes the door and settles back onto the couch, folding his legs up in a way that allowed him to fit somewhat comfortably on the furniture. He pulls the blanket over himself, feeling his screen get dimmer as his mind goes blank. He would make a more solid decision about what to do in the morning, but as of right now he didn’t think Kora would mind him staying a bit longer.

What could be the harm in sticking around another couple of days?

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 17

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 9.7k

a/n: Hi sweethearts, its here... part 1 of New Orleans. Enjoy and happy Kinktober.

CW: Mentions of past poor relationship with eating

Masterlist

Javier is a smooth operator, you'll give him that. He slips out of your house without disturbing your mothers tranquil slumber. You were no good either, awoken by a chaste kiss, “Call me.” he whispers at 4 in the morning before disappearing out your window. You stir, still convinced you were dreaming. You wake with an attempt at nuzzling into his chest but instead you're met with the ghost of his warmth and the sound of your mother calling your name from the kitchen. 

Eyes squinted you rise from bed and immediately sit back down. Your eyes widen and flash at your bare lower half, the soreness was a bit much. You know Javier would power trip if he saw the way your legs gave out. You wince as you waddle over to grab some pants.

You walk down your stairs into your kitchen with a warm flush on your face. You last saw your mother when she practically said you weren’t welcome in your house any more and now she has a narrowed eyed glare at you when you stumble down the stairs. Two eggs cracked, both for her. Her plate ready with tomato’s right where Javier bent you over and fucked you just 15 hours prior. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 

“Good morning.” You croak with a yawn, passing her to open the fridge for some water. Her eyes follow you the whole time, trying to read your every move. Judging bit by bit. 

Your eyes drag down to the counter where the house phone goes unhooked and stretched laid flat. She must have just gotten off the phone. You ignore it, you felt like your mother was always on the phone. Always stressed about the boutique. 

“You’re sleeping with Javier.”

She says it matter-of-fact. Despite being prepared for the accusation you feel your stomach flipping. You had scripted this approach and prepared yourself before you dozed off after actually being fucked by Javier Peña (for the second time).

You flare your nostrils and widen your eyes in the best acting you’ve done in years and you deliver it so perfectly, “Xavier?” 

You almost want to giggle, and your mother gasps—a mixture of relief and concern. Her eyes dart to the phone and you follow her gaze. “You’re back together?” She lowers the stove heat and crosses her arms, this is her dream. Marry you off to the soldier, the well off soldier. But her reaction is less expressive, maybe I should ask who she was just calling. 

Later, you think, crush her twisted dreams now, “Oh you were talking about Javi!” You laugh as if her accusation was nothing short of ridiculous. “C’mon mami.. Why would you—oh the car?” You roll your neck, let go of all the knots and cracks.

Your mothers shoulders fall, probably upset that you aren't trying to work things out with your very awful ex. You wish she knew, how horrible he was, she’d still side with him. 

You never described your mother as cruel, not even when you went away to Miami, when you could’ve rewritten your story. Your mother hadn’t beat you, she never called you names and she rarely ever yelled. And she wasn’t always cold. She could be kind to you, friendly, but she could also be mean—too straight up, afraid of white lies. She never loved you much, you knew people you met in college who showed you more love than your mother had. You spent all your life alone in your own home but at a certain point you made family with others. 

Yet you ached for that affection from your biological family.

You hadn't given up completely and you reached an age where you could form a relationship with your brother. Finally, he wasn’t an extension of your mother, he could form his own opinions. You could distract yourself from the cast of sadness when she stares at you too long, when she’s reminded of how you came to be. When she looks at you and sees your father.

But through her frowns and sighs you at least had Frankie. Your brother was yours just as much as he was your mothers. He took care of you, you cared for him, he was mean, he was rude, but he loved you so much he never knew what to do with it. He struggled to protect you from certain things but he tried his best. God, he isnt good at showing it but he cares. He’s trying his best, you don’t think anyone loves you as much, and he doesn’t even love you all that much so it’s a bit sad and embarrassing when you think of it. 

Your mother and Frankie found common ground on most things, it was just a quirk they developed from sharing so much time together. You and your mother have never agreed on anything in your life.

There were few things the two differed. Frankie was a cowboys fan and your mother favored the Texans. She hated his long hair, Frankie promised to never cut it. Frankie would kill Javier if he found what the two of you do, your mother will kill you instead.

 Frankie saw it as a situation of respect, you were his baby sister for crying out loud. He thought your crush was a nuisance at worst, but he had seen how distant you got when he left. He wanted to kill Javier when he found out he kissed you before he went away, shit he wanted to kill you too.

And your mother, she thought your crush was child’s play. She saw Lorraine and Javier, she told you once that that, the romance between two teens, deciding to start their lives together, that was a display of true love. Your mom smiled over her food as she gushed over Javier and his girlfriend. You struggled to keep your food down when you entered the bathroom. 

You don’t know when she made that decision because she seemed to be very indifferent to Javier’s personal life before he left. You guessed it was when she started having dinner with Lorraine's mother twice a week. It was also paired with her not considering you good enough for the son of Don Chucho. Makes more sense now that you know she slept with him too.

In her head it was Javier and Lorraine forever, so even if you admitted right now that you were sleeping with him she would find some way to talk you out of it for the sake of Lorraine. 

You explain the bar lie and she believes you without batting an eye.

Between flickered glances at the phone and at you she presses some questions about his job and if he’ll speak to Lorraine before he leaves.

Mrs. Smith is convinced Lorraine and Javier will get married soon. You try not to audibly sigh as you go on about not being sure. She nods and serves her plate of eggs, you were meaning to ask why she came home early but the bubbling anxiety of mentioning Louisiana took over.

“Javier is driving me to Baton Rouge.” You drop nonchalantly. Pushing your sex and bed head out of your face as you sit on the stool. Her fork clatters and she coughs. 

She’s silent for a moment, her dark brown eyes half lidded, her nostrils flaring slightly. Just like you, you got that from her… that small tick when you’re frustrated. She only urges an e por que?

You keep it cool, you know she’ll be upset regardless. “I’ll be staying with my grandmother for the weekend. Javier has a work trip in New Orleans, I’ll catch a ride.” 

She lets out an overdrawn sigh, “señor dame fuerza,” she mutters her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. Always so dramatic, your eyes flash to the clock, shouldn’t she be in church? You’d bring it up but you know if you do she’d throw that fork at you. “¿Sabes qué? No puedo detenerte.”

Your brows raise in shock.You let a silence beat before you reply, “No, you can’t.”

She sighs, “You know I’m just trying to protect you.”

And you don’t know what has gotten into you but— “Too late for that.”

Your mothers aging eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in shock. For a split second you feel a pang in your chest, the guilt for that second is unbearable. But who had been there when you cried so much you’d choke? Had she felt guilty when she passed your room when you cried for her affection when you were just six. Had she felt guilty then? 

Her gaze falls to the plate and you twist the knife further. “I’ll be apartment hunting there too, for this coming winter.” It comes to you on the spot, you never had the intention to do so but after her “move out” suggestion the idea came naturally. Maybe it was a mixture of hope, hoping the family in Baton Rouge would open their arms to you and never make you feel unwelcome. 

Her brows raise a bit and with her smallest stutter she whispers, “Bien.”

“Good.” You snap, crossing your arms.

Her eyes widened again, appalled at your audacity. “Well–I’m going to work. I called your brother about you and Javier so you might want to clear the air.”

Your mother dramatically exits like she had two days ago when she dropped the first bomb of the week. An unbearable panic explodes in your chest, you physically recoil the second she leaves. Hand over your chest, you try to bite back tears. 

No–not yet. No, not this time. 

Avoidant, often you call yourself that. You avoided the things that made you feel anything other than a sense of security.  You’d have 7 blow up arguments with your mother a year, in reality you should have an argument a day but you often avoided that too. You avoided all things Javier when he was gone, avoided breaking up with Xavier until the very last minute.

It was just in your nature, so after a few shed tears and a coughing up the milk you chugged from your wrecked nerves, you avoided the thought of being confronted by your older brother. You avoided the idea of having to lie to his face and then somehow convince him that despite your mothers claims you were indeed not fucking his best friend but you are also heading on a completely platonic mini vacation together in just a few days. 

The trait was probably your fathers. Your mother never avoided a confrontation, she’d follow you up the stairs before you physically create a barrier between you two. Frankie had been the same way, stern and a bit mean but always in search to solve the problem the second it started. The second he found out you had kissed Javier from some girl who stopped by the hair salon he drove straight to the house to talk to you about it. That was them and like most things ‘mom and son’ you just couldn't be on that same level.

With that when your mom left you alone after that bomb you had locked yourself into your room and planned your lessons for the week, completely (sort of) shutting out all thoughts of this morning. 

Until 2 pm when you had gotten hungry after only drinking milk that you spat up like an infant. Your brain splitting in two when you’re met with the back of your big brother's head. Somehow feeling some more of that bile lingering and coming back up. 

“Frankie…” You whispered turning the corner and into the kitchen where he sat at the island stool. His hair still long and curly, Genie had a love-hate thing with it, on one hand he had beautiful healthy curls and on the other he looked a bit shaggy with it. It was a bit 1975 of him, the denim and mustache. Him and Javier being best friends just made sense, their style never evolved. 

You see his face now, in his hands is a book and his eyes aren't as angry as you feared. That scared you the most, so you began, “Gordo–” His eyes flashed to yours again, maybe calling him by your childhood nickname was a bit much. “Mami is mistaken, you have to believe me– me and Javi never-we haven’t-god, we’re not even.”

But Frankie cuts, “Did you take a psychology course at Miami.” 

Um…

Your brows pull tightly, afraid of where this is going. Is he just going to ignore the whole– “Yes-yeah I did, childhood and adolescent development and psychology.”

“Did you ever read Julian Ridden, anything from him?” Frankie taps his book and places it on the counter ignorant of him, his hand splayed on the cover and then slowly retreated. Words upside down, cover a pale palm out open. 

You shake your head, “No– it was more like Piaget and Freud, what does this have to do with anything? I want to talk to you Frankie!”

Well so much for being avoidant. Now that he’s here you want none of whatever he’s trying to do now, no mind games, just let me lie to you dammit. 

“Ridden came up with the Being and Knowing theory about parents who grew up with out a father of their own. He says that men who never had a father figure in their life often overcompensate in the lives of their children, they know what's it like to not have a father so they become what they wished for.”

Your brows soften for a moment, the tightness in your chest shifting from the possibility of being caught to concern for your brother. You take a step closer, pulling the book towards you and flipping it. “Frankie…are you alright, I know–well I don't but I figure the idea of being a father feels scary.” 

“I’m sorry for not being there for you when you were little.” His head drops and you hurry to his side, slinging your arm over his shoulders. He shook his head in disagreement. It’s okay, you murmur into his shoulder. “It isn't okay, upu had no one, not even mami. I see it now. And I know it wasn't my responsibility to play the role of your father but I could’ve been a better example of what a man should be.”

Your heart splits in two and suddenly every worry you built until now washes away, a few tears fall at the sound of something so unfortunately true. You just hated that he realized how it’s been for you,  that now he’s hurt too, you only wished that this would only pain you. “It’s okay you did your best, I’m better now.” 

Frankie pinches the bridge of his nose and shrugs you off, startled you wipe your own tears afraid of what outburst is coming from this, “You looked for that in Javi–I know me, your dad and even fucking Xavier didn't treat you well, Javier was there for you and I feel like I prosecuted you for that–it's fucked up.”

There it is, taking the back of your palm you wipe your brow and land your hands on your hips. “What…”

“Listen, I was too hard on you about Javier. I know that now, I get it. He left and I blamed you internally, and sure some of it was your fault but I don’t know why I lacked sympathy for you all I thought about was myself.” 

You cross your arms, now he’s entering waters unknown. When Javi left your brother distanced, you had taken the educated guess that it was because he was starting his life with his girlfriend not much else. Blame me? What was my fault? For what? You bite the inside of your lip, staring down the profile of your brother's face. “What do you mean?”

His brows screw, still his gaze fixed on nothing ahead of him. “You made shit awkward, Javier never called and when he did all he wanted to talk about was you.”

Your face flushes, “I’m sorry what– Javier doing Javier shit has nothing to do with me. He’s a famously known flaker, he leaves.. Often and when he does he like chooses to not exist in our lives. That's not my fault!”

Frankie closes his eyes and exhales a frustrated one. “Obviously some shit happened before he left which I know now was him fucking kissing you, god you should’ve never let that happen Andrea.”

You mirror his angry exhale and your tears have since dried. “Oh give me a break, I was fucking sixteen and in love with him, god forbid we share a kiss. Jesus christ, it wasn't that serious, he left and stopped calling. He's here now!”

Frankie’s head snaps to you in disbelief, “Wasn't that serious? He left and you didn't fucking eat, you were never home and when you started to be healthy again you started dating that–that prick, that called you fat on your birthday dinner. You leave for Miami and you never call, you come home and you work out until you’re sick and now Javier’s home and all of a sudden you're easy going and healthy and fine. That is a big deal!” 

You stood frozen in front of him feeling like an open wound. Everything you hid, all the habits you tried to keep under wraps. How you skipped the meals your mother made, when you cried embarrassed when Genie found you on the side of the road after nearly fainting from a run. You had blocked it out, avoidant, Xavier had asked if you really wanted dessert on your eighteenth birthday, in front of your brother. He sat and watched. You were at a loss of words for once, you couldn't muster up anything to say. All things were true, he was right but you couldn’t face the connection. 

“I…” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Yes, Frankie, yes I struggled. But it is what it is, it’s in the past!” You just accepted that idea 4 days ago but you couldn't tell him that, no. 

He stands abruptly, the chair scraping tile, “I can sympathize with you now, we’re grown up but you complicated shit and I lost my best friend! You need to take responsibility.”

“I didn't do anything wrong!”

He scoffs, “Oh please! I wasn't the best brother to you but you knew Javier would do anything for you, you knew he was with Lorraine and you still had to have him! You never saw it this way, how could you? All you think about is yourself, but he was my friend first! He was my only fucking friend Andrea and-” His finger is pointed in your face. You're so angry you could slap him but that wouldn't end well, you and your brother were never above rough-housing. The optics arent the same now that the two of you are adults. “And imagine how I feel… after all this time, all this distance to get a call from mami saying regardless of it being my only boundary you're still seeing him? Please tell me I’m mistaken, nena. I’ll fucking kill him you have to understand me–he’s my family but you’re my little sister and I’m not letting him hurt you again, I cant watch it again. ” His finger falls. 

Your skin feels a size too tight at that, the nickname he gave you when he first held you in his own chubby toddler arms. The burn of little sister, his stare blown and frantic you couldn't even tell exactly what he was mad about but it seemed to all boil over. Those six years of resentment you never knew he held.  Standing in the kitchen where you had the man he’s begging you to be away from, below the bathroom where he asked you to go away with him and now with wild embers in the deep brown irises of your big brother, he pleads. 

He is pleading, please don’t lie to me any longer, please don’t, not Javier, anyone else.

And you feel it, the guilt, the sick twisting storm throughout your body. You feel everything at once, you feel the paternal look in Frankie's eyes, his newfound fatherhood giving him perspective on how it must have been for you. You feel the resentment in how you acted after Javi left, how you never considered how his best friend leaving burned him too. 

But so selfishly you’re brought back to the feeling of being in his arms. You hate that your brain is proving Frankie's point. Javier makes you feel stable, safe and maybe it’s unhealthy but it’s the greatest comfort you’ve ever felt.

You hadn’t known warmth until then. 

 Come november he’ll be gone and if you're careful no one gets hurt, he leaves and your secret is kept. Frankie is your family, he has hurt you 4 times over, he passed your room when you wept and rubbed in your face the relationship he had with your mother. You loved him to death but your feelings for Javier belong to you. You’re so tired of being told how to behave.

You lie.

“I am not sleeping with Javier.” Frankie’s tense shoulders drop, and you drag on the falsehood. “Mom got the wrong idea but I told her he had dropped his car off here so he could head to the bar and I’m so sorry for fucking shit up but its…me and him are different now. He’s my…” Your eyes drop, not having the heart to look at him as you fabricate all he knows. “He’s my best friend too, he knows about my grandma, he’s taking me to see her so we’ve been spending time together.” Half true, you hadn't even brought up your grandmother to Javier but you hoped to soon. You flick your gaze upward and your brother is stone face,  internalizing all that you laid out, all the deception, you feel the trust between you two chipping piece by piece. 

Your grandma, he whispers to himself and instantly frowns. He pulls you close to him tightly. You stay in the embrace for long, beginning to cry in shame. Feeling sick to lie to him this way, sob while he believes it’s because of your paternal trauma. 

He’ll never forgive me. 

Your brother leaves and it takes a few hours of complete isolation for you to feel anything at all. Sitting with your legs crossed in your bedroom, reliving all the good and bad in your story. Trying to pin-point all the wrong Frankie has done to justify lying to him the way you did. It’s radio silence in your room as you numbly pack, each corner tucked and rolled is a reminder of all the relationships you’re ruining. You think of your mother as you pack, you think of every time you packed a bag or lack thereof. 

There were few things your mother did for you. By fourteen you were made to make your own dinner, pay for your own hair cuts, and keep up with your dentist appointments. But the one thing you could always rely on with your mother was her packing skills. She’d watch you struggle and let out an exasperated sigh before shoving you out the way and taking matters in her own hands. 

Now at 9 pm you feel your mothers presence at the doorway while you struggle. It’s slight, the breeze surrounding her body, you feel the narrowed eyes peeled to the back of your head, the room pulsing with anticipation. 

Will you be my mother again?

The weak part of you pleads. 

But she closes the door for you without another word. And it's so silly but you begin to tear up, it's done once and for all.

You try your best to sleep that night but you find it impossible. You arrive at your class 10 minutes late with the students shaking their heads when they observe the cup of coffee in your hand. Class goes as good as it could be considering it was antsy eighth graders who had failed their algebra final. Two more weeks of summer school, one more month until you make a decision on your classroom. It makes you giggle a bit being called Ms. Diaz. 

Javier doesn't call you Monday night but you know it's for the better. You know once you hear his voice you’ll miss him and you shouldn't do any more secret rendezvous until your family quits the speculation. You’ll have him all weekend, you'll have him in a few days. 

On Tuesday you come home from work to a stranger taking care of your baby sister. Slowly your mother cuts off your purpose in her home. Hiring a nanny named Florencia, you still pick up Sol and give the nanny a break. Rolling your R’s in her face and watching as she attempts to mock you, she gets fed up. She smiles and pulls on your hair.

You’ll miss her the most you think, sometimes she makes you believe maybe you’ll be a good mother. 

Wednesday ebbs and flows, you see Javier at the market. He stops in his tracks at the end of the aisle, strangely reminiscent of when he saw you for the first time after his year away. You in your bikini top and him in his dark jacket in 7/11. This time Javier looks around for on lookers and you do the same before he stalks you down the aisle, pushing your cart away before grabbing at your cheeks for a quick kiss that has your chest heating. 

He steps away from you, creating distance in case a customer comes by. No one would know how had just kissed her.

You blush profusely and before you could tease him a worker passes you with a cart and begins stocking right next to the two of you. 

“My dad is waiting in the truck.” Javier blurts, you take this moment to appreciate his attire. You want to ask if he dresses up this nice every time he goes for errands, you on the other hand… how funny would that kiss look to onlookers? A fully suited Javier pressing his lips to you in an oversized flannel and denim shorts. 

You nod, “Okay…” 

Javier looks over at the nosy employee, the two of you knew who the worker was, he was in Genie’s graduating class. Javier rolls his tongue in his cheek annoyed with their interaction being startled and it would be far too obvious to take the conversation elsewhere. Tilting his head to the ceiling and that familiar Peña sass you're so used to. He narrows his eyes at the worker again and shakes his head. Your cheeks hurt from the active attempt to not laugh. 

“I’ll see you around Andrea, you look great.” He teases, his hand squeezing our shoulder. The worker stops his stocking at that and Javier doesn't give you the opportunity to pinch him because he's walking away. 

Thursday you attempt to finish packing, stomach flipping at the thought of being on the road with Javier at 5 am the next day. Ten hours on the road and 3 nights alone. You stuff your birth control in between your towel and going out dress. 

Right before bed, Javier calls your home phone. You aren't given the time to say hello. 

“Are you okay?” He urges beyond the line. Your brows pull tight, your eyes dart to your packed back on the floor and to your clock, 10 pm. 

“Yeah…are you okay?” You laugh and to your surprise he doesn't laugh back.

“Frankie came to my house today.”

Your heart skips a beat and you sit up in bed. Fuck. “O-okay what did he say?”

“I dont know… I just, I’m so sorry. I apologized to him for writing him off but you never told me about you eating or your grandmother I’m so-”

Your ears run hot, “Oh god he told you! I’m going to fucking kill him, jesus christ Frankie” 

“Andrea let me see you, I can't wait until the morning. I need you to know.”

“Javi… please. My struggle was my business and it wasn't you or whatever, I was going through a lot more than you leaving at that time. I-” Your voice dies for a moment but you continue before Javier could cut you off. “I would rather talk about this tomorrow, please Javi.”

He’s silent for a moment, a beat, in that silence your brain clicks, Oh my god I haven't even told him about my grandmother. 

“My grandmother”

“Your grandma” You both say in sync but you allow him to continue. “Your fathers mother contacted you, why didn't you tell me?” He says softly. 

It wasn't intentional, at least you don't think it was. You're not sure when was the appropriate time to bring it up without it seeming like you accepted this weekend trip for a free ride. “She wants to meet me, she lives in Baton Rouge. I just didn't want to feel like I was just using you for a ride.” You sigh, afraid to admit. The thoughts of maybe being accepted by your father or a grandmother or an aunt, anyone. Your breath shudders.  “I know… I know it's stupid but I’m so desperate for a family Javi.”  You whisper. 

He lapses into another silence. In those seconds you grew embarrassed with yourself, with your desperation. You felt a pang of ungratefulness, you saying this to someone who watched his mother walk out. You think of the people who have no one. You think of your own mother whose parents passed while she was a teen. Why did I say that? 

“We’ll go see her on our way back home.”

Your brows pull together “What?” You frown. 

“You should never feel like you're using me, I’ll take you Sunday to meet your grandmother.” You're silent again in a space between disbelief and expectation until he pushes you over the edge. “And… I am your family, you will always have me. But I think you know that.”

Your breath dies again, your chin quivering out of control. 

I love you. How desperately you want to tell him, Javi, I love you so much. 

Your mother is awake when you load your bags into Javier’s truck. You hear her rattling in the bathroom when you tie your shoes, you know she’ll watch from the window in her robe when you buckle in so when Javier grabs your bags you distance yourself, avoiding whatever affection he itches to show you.

You exhale when he settles in. He looks awfully handsome today, already dressed in conference attire. A lovely fitted mustard button down and black pants, his eyes flitting down to the glittering watch on his left wrist. And he tries to lean in again and you turn your head towards the window, and he gets the message. Still mutters curses regardless and pulls out of your street. 

It takes 30 seconds to be on an empty dirt road and hes dangerously leaning to bite on your exposed shoulder, “Missed you querida, taste so sweet.” He grits and your redden straight down to your chest before letting out a ticklish giggle. You wiggle your hand around his head and tug his head off of you by the root of his hair. He looks at you with wet parted desperate lips and good god, you want him to pull over but–

“Eyes on the road agente.” 

His eyes narrow and he shakes away his urge and continues down the road. You roll your neck, what an awful night of sleep you've had. You kick off your sandals and bring your knees to your chest. Leaning your cheek on your knee and you admire the man next to you. Sunrise splitting the pretty green trees, creating a lovely canary colored cast on the strong of his nose and eyes. His eyes, your stomach jumps, what lovely lashes on a man. You're envious. 

It's silent until you're out of town and heading in the direction of George West, his eyes side glancing at you and double takes. His right palm covers your knee and pats, “Don't sit like that, it's dangerous.” Your lip quirks and you comply, remembering when he had said the same thing on your way to Liandra’s quince six years ago. He smirks at how quickly you obey, his calloused hand inching slowly up your leg and under your dress. 

Your lip is between your teeth instantly and you part your legs. Hands at the end hem of your pearl colored dress.

Eyes still on the road he drags his fingers against your thin panties, your breath hitches as your buck your hips to give him more space, instead he slips his fingers in the space below, cupping you. The bumpy road jerks your core against his palm, you gasp and he chuckles.

“Javi…” You rub yourself on his palm, your free hand gripping his wrist. Your eyes fluttering closed, feeling the ball of his palm create the most necessary friction on your clit. Your panties ruined already, he must love the feel of the wetness seeping through. 

His eyes stay on the road the whole time, “Hurry up, two more minutes and we hit a town.” He keeps his cool while you unravel next to him, inching towards an orgasm at dawn. And you let go of his wrist and run your hand up over your dress, needing as much touch as possible. You grip at your breast and hump his palm faster. This, this is quite the sight because despite your shut eyes you can feel Javier’s distracted gaze. “Christ, yeah baby let me see you.” Shamelessly you pull the top of your dress down, exposing your pretty peaked nipple and thats it. 

Javier is moving his hand from under you and swerving the car off road. Thankfully these backroads won't see anyone but long haul truckers at this time because you're still so disoriented from the neared climax you don't think to fix yourself up but from the way Javier puts the car in park you know you wont need to fix anything. You're unbuckling and slipping your panties off instantaneously and he follows.

Unbuckling, unzipping and pulling out his erection. And to hell with thinking twice because the sight of him aching and twitching against his shirt has you scrambling on top of him. 

His hands steading you as your hand slips between you, grabbing ahold of him with his tip prodding your entrance. You sink down, you moan softly but Javi is letting out a throaty rasp. Still you aren't used to the stretch of him especially from this angle. Your dress pools around the two of you, blocking any view of your bodies connecting. 

No time to get used to this position, immediately he's driving his hips into you and you're bouncing, riding Javier. His hands gripping your ass, the windows fogging as the car fills with no sounds but grunts, whimpers and slaps. His mouth open and sucking at any inch of skin, finally his mouth suctioning your breast. Your hands tugs at his hair as you make a mess on his lap, the zipper of his pants will leave a mark you just know it. And you feel it, the pit, the dizziness, he feels you clench around him.

“C’mon Andrea, make a mess on me.” He grits, and you comply once again squeezing him tightly, leaking onto his lap. You're crying in pure pleasure and at your final call of his name he’s spilling into you, warm and just as messy. 

He holds you tighter as the two of you float, still blurry eyed and dazed. You catch your breath together. 

Like always you're so limp and fucked out that he takes it upon himself to disconnect the two of you and adjusts your dress. Planting sweet kisses in your hair, feeling empty and gaping you find it hard to move but he does it for you once again, guiding you back to your seat, buckling you in.

And like that you sleep for the next 3 hours of the drive

“Six more hours querida… We’re in Inez… according to the map.” 

You wake to his right hand tangled in your hair, supporting your neck. You take a few seconds to realize that you're curled up in the passenger's seat of Javier’s truck. Squeezing your eyes tightly adjusting to the full blown daylight, eyes darting to the time, 8:40 am. 

“Oh my god, do you want to switch?” You panic, you hadn't even offered splitting the labor. The ride was nine and a half hours at the very least and even harder navigating with a map. You had never driven for longer than two hours but it seems Javier is used to this sort of commute. 

His face screws in disapproval and his fingers scratch at your head. “Todo bien, you can take the last hour. We should arrive by 2, the social lunch is at 3 but we can skip that.” 

You nod, rubbing your eyes letting out an annoyed noise when his hand slides away from its place in your hair. Back to both hands on the wheel, your eyes flash down to the skirt of your dress and you feel clean? Your eyes dart to Javier’s lap and he's changed into a brown formal pant. “Did you–?”

His eyes follow yours and land back on the rolling roads, he nods. “Yeah, I cleaned you up when you were asleep and I changed… not sure how I would explain to Agent Messina what the wet spot on my pants was.”

Your brows shoot high and you laugh, “Fair point…” A fleeting feeling of uncertainty brushes you at the reference to another agent. You were alright in social settings but you're a school teacher for crying out loud, you have no idea what sort of people you’re about to encounter. In your head you see yourself walking into a dining hall full of suited men whispering and beating around the bush when asked questions of their career. You picture Javier in that setting, how you've rarely ever seen that ultra serious demeanor and disinterested aura. Rarely, but you have seen it, you remember just how cold he can be when you think of him shouldering Xavier out of his way nearly a month ago. You think of how stern he can be with you at times. Why does the thought of him working such a dangerous job scare and turn you on at the same time. 

“So…” You drag in between the silence, “What should I expect this weekend.”

“Well, today there's the DEA social lunch thing, they're holding it so the bell hops could take our things up.”

You wiggle your brows, “Fancy…”

“Yeah, well after that we can settle in but from 7 to 9 I have a mandatory conference with my new co-workers, Colombia co workers.” He clarifies and you nod. “Then we have the night to ourselves. The guys will probably want to get drinks but we do whatever you want.”

Your chest heats, you almost want to roll your eyes at him. “Whatever… Okay and Saturday?”

“I have my long conference, 10:30 am until 2:30 pm.” 

You let out a low whistle, “Four hours, jeez. Is it top secret?” 

He rolls his eyes, “Probably. Don't take it personally, you knowing I’m leaving because of Pablo Escobar is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah… and after that?”

“Right, it’ll be time just for us. French quarters maybe?”

You beam, “Yeah maybe. Are any of your office friends going away to Colombia?” The question leaves you before you can form a purpose for it. Sure you'd love to meet the friends he might've made in Houston but a small part of you worries some people there will be aware of the existence of Lorraine and they will be aware of you, not being her. Afraid of a possible awkward conversation, oh god who are you to Javi? How will he introduce you–

“I think two guys from my section should be coming along. Felipe, he’s likable and polite. Dominican guy, but there's also Julian… not a fan.” His hand goes for the cup holder, fishing out a cigarette and you narrow your eyes at him. “Will you light me?” He asks.

Still with a scalding glare you grab his light and wait for him to slip the stick between his lips. “I’m just being helpful but I don't approve.” You strike the flame with your thumb and light him up. He mumbles a thank you and continues. 

“Julian is in his mid thirties, kind of upset about my age and all that. He also got into it with Lorraine at a Christmas party a few years back.”

“Oh… what happened?”

Confirmed, you're going to die. His co-workers have met his long term girlfriend and now he's bringing you… his… oh god, are they going to think you’re in some ménage à trois? You hear stories from your college friends about white collared men and their wandering hands. 

Javier taps his cigarette on the window, his face wondering how to start this story. But he starts with all of it, “When I got moved to train and work with the DEA me and Lorraine were in a trying to make it work phase.” Drag, “You know she’s very outgoing but she can get real defensive when she has a drink in her system. Anyway we had argued the night before so tensions were high when I decided to bring her to our christmas party.”

Your brain flashes briefly an image of Lorraine holding your arms telling you you’re beautiful on New Year’s eve, guilt and shame bolt through you, you tune out a small portion of his story thinking of Lorraine and her kindness towards you. 

“…Julian decided to comment on Lorraine’s outfit choice. I mean you know how she was, very conservative being pastors daughter but when she wanted to dress up she… you remember what she wore to New Years?"

Your eyes widen, “How can I forget!” Custom made orange jumpsuit, you could’ve dropped dead from jealousy that night. 

“Well he made a comment about me letting her leave the house in her outfit.”

You scoff, “Well whatever he had coming he deserved it.” You murmur, you hated that. You know that it was typical for women to comply with what their partners want them to wear but not for your generation. That was the time of your parents, every girl now wants to dress like Madonna and it’s great. 

Javier laughs, “Yeah he did… Lorraine straight up called him… and I quote, 'a lonely short man with the complex of a man who’s 6 foot'. And slapped his drink from his hand, got all over his suit.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter, imagining the face on this stranger. The two of you laugh together at the image, but once the laughs died you fell into that familiar space of trepidation. You bask in the light silence while your brain ticks off the uncomfortable feeling of missing her as a friend. The strange sting that maybe she’ll never want to speak to you again.

“Hey…” Javi calls, ashing his cigarette in the cup holder. “¿Todo chido?”

You frown, “I don’t know… it’s stupid.” Your gaze averts out the window, passing a mall and some rest stop. His hand reaches out to your knee giving it a squeeze of encouragement. Whatever, “I kind of feel guilty? I know you two aren’t together but there’s a part of me that still wants her in my life. I liked being her friend that year.” You find it embarrassing to admit but most things are out in the open now with you and Javi, you have no time to keep these little feelings to yourselves, it’s what tore you apart for so long. 

Javier’s grip loosens and your frown deepens as he retrieves it entirely. You look to him this time and his eye twitches slightly, you know it does that when he’s keeping something hidden. No time for that. “What Javi.” You say sternly.

His head darts to you and back to the road, “Nothing…”

“Javi.” 

“Alright. With Lorraine… don’t feel guilty. She had your mind made up about you once she started college. I think her friends opened up to what was right in front of her.”

You lips twitch in confusion, “What do you mean?”

Javier sighs, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight now. “Well… I suppose they made her realize that you were a part of our relationship failing.”

“Me?” You had no part in that, he told you they had problems before the two of you kissed, before. The whole time it was all you, your crushing and whatever. You now know Javi had feelings for you then but you thought it was a back burner issue, from the stories you’ve heard it seemed like Lorraine and him were just too hot headed to be together. 

“Well me more-so but it’s easier to fester dislike for someone you don’t have to face every night, so ever since then she’s kinda built a dislike for you.”

Oh. 

Your heart is stuck somewhere again, this time between relieved and sad. Sad that after all these years of being jealous you still craved being her friend, yet it didn’t go both ways you suppose. And relieved that she already disliked you instead of possibly dropping the, hi I know we were close while you dated Javier but now I’m fucking him! 

“Never mind then…” You drag, “Well I’m sure giving her a reason to hate me.”

Javier shrugs, “Everyone hates us.” 

You giggle although the thought is absolutely terrifying to you, “Yeah… that’s true.” 

“We should talk about Frankie.” Javi pitches after your two hours of talking about everything and nothing. You groan and pull his hand to your mouth. Shaking your head you mumble into his palm. 

“Can’t talk sorry.” He scoffs at your attempt and removes his hand, whatever… you murmur. “Okay… okay. You first, mine is too much.” And it was, you’d have to detail the side of your mother he may not know, tell him about how it used to be between you and Frankie and you’d have to tell him about the accusation from your mother. 

Javi can tell it's eating you alive because he intertwined his fingers with yours the second the crease between your brows deepened. “He showed up to the house, I was scared shitless when he started the conversation with your name. The conversation… it didn't go the way I was expecting.” His voice is low for that last part, you comfort him this time, placing your free on top of the hold you two had. “I guess I hadn't realized how much of a bad friend I turned into once I left. I think I lost my way when I was in Houston, I pushed everyone to the side and I think the only person left without an apology was your brother.”

You recall the face your brother made the night Lorraine broke the Houston news. Despite being wrapped in your own panic your first instinct was to look at Frankie. Frankie stared off into the distance with the same face of worry he had when mama would yell at them, disassociating for a moment before Genie beams with excitement. He imitated a smile when squeezing Javier's shoulders in congratulations. When you really think about it, Javier had been your brother's only friend. 

“He loves you a lot, you're his family. But we are all selfish, he deserved an apology but you cant torture yourself over being oblivious.”

And you swear you see Javier’s eyes welling, you want to lean over the console and comfort him but you leave him to it. You leave him to process, letting go of his hand. He reaches for another cigarette and you light it. 

With the wrist of his smoking hand he rubs his eyes, “Okay… your turn.” He chuckles through a rasp of emotion.

You tell him all, about your father and how your mother only ever loved him and how your existence has always been a reminder of the heartache she felt that day. Javier holds onto your hand again when you tell him that Frankie was cruel to you until middle school, that he’d never comforted you, that Frankie softened up to you when Javi got in the picture. Javi couldn't believe that, it was true, no one had ever shown you kindness and Frankie attempted to follow suit. Instead it manifested in overprotection and control. 

It ended with your grandmother, with your mother cutting you off and your crushing ache for– “I’ve never truly felt loved by my family, it always felt conditional. I guess I’m reaching out to my fathers side in hopes they’ll welcome me there.” 

Javier stops at a red light and looks over to you. His mouth twitching in hesitation, “Regardless of what happens you will always have a family, no matter where we stand or if we hate each other in the next few months, you will never need to look for a family as long as I’m around.”

Valet, fancy.

You itch to comment when the bell hop takes your bags. You explore the lobby a bit while Javier is a few feet away from you getting directions to the lunch they were both craving so badly. You hoped you were properly dressed, it was a favorite dress of yours, it’s pearl color and your sandals had a wedge. 

The lobby was lavish, mosaic tiles, gilded pillars and beautiful bouquets of flowers at every turn. And it couldn’t get any better. You look up and are met with beautiful ceiling paintings and glistening chandeliers. Jesus.

“Andrea!” Javi calls from across the room and you make your way toward him. The man he spoke to was moving away to handle business elsewhere. “Everyone’s down this hall, apparently it’s more so a cocktail hour.” You groan, hungry as could be. He takes hold of your hand, in a public space, you stomach grumbles and you can’t tell if it’s from lack of food or the idea of being like this with him. He laughs, bringing a hand to squeeze your stomach. “It’s alright, I’ll call up room service later we’re just going to show face.”

Show face indeed, the room is packed. And you're a bit underdressed, dressed for lunch while everyone in the room were suited and in cocktail dresses. Your brows raising at the sight of men with guns in their holsters. Sure you're from Texas but open carry wasn't as common near you. Then again you're walking into a room of DEA agents. Javi squeezes your hand, “My co-workers are over there.”

Through the room Javier is given nods and smiles. You are too, men and women alike smiling and nodding at you too. Ahead of you was a tall woman in her 40s with shoulder length black hair, the only woman in the room with a suit. Messina, you assume, next to him is a tall dark skinned man with short buzzed hair in a gray suit. Upon arrival Javier’s face splits into a smile and he lets your hand go to hug his coworker. Felipe, you assume. 

You're left smiling and saying hello to Messina. “You look good, Vaquero.” He squeezes Javier’s waist as they part. “Missing your cowboy hat.” He jutts his chin towards Javier’s cowboy boots. Javier shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever Yank.” Northerner, funny. For a moment you feel out of place, standing at Javier’s side without a name or acknowledgement until Felipe extends a hand out to you. 

“Pardon me, I’m from New York but I do have manners. What's your name sweetheart,”

Your brows raise at the sudden attention, you take his hand and he shakes it. Instinctually Javier steps closer to you. “Andrea, nice to meet you.”

“Beautiful name.” He smiles and looks back to Javier with raised brows. Javier squinted in distaste and snaked his around your waist to pull you into him. You smile down at your feet with a blush from both the compliment and also the way Javier’s hand felt so large splayed on your waist. “So…” He wiggles his brows and Javier scoffs at his co-workers nosiness. 

Javier looks at you briefly, “So…” He mocks, “This is my girlfriend Andrea.”

Oh. 

It's disarming the label coming from his lips, you feel a heat rise from your belly straight to your ears and cheeks. A small part of you is kicking yourself for reacting to such a label but its beautiful to the ears.

So you were his girlfriend, huh. 

“Well she’s beautiful, right Messina?”

Messina smiles, “Indeed, you can call me Claudia.” She reaches out and you take her hand, cold and soft, reminding you of the hands of your mother. 

“Can I call you Claudia?” Felipe beams.

“No.” She cuts and Javier stifles a laugh. You lean into Javier giggling at the interaction.

“Where’s your girlfriend Felipe, the receptionist?” Javi teases but Felipe seems to be equally as amused. 

Felipe smiles, “Fiancé, she's around somewhere.”

You look up at Javier who looks absolutely stunned at the announcement, “No mames…” He drags and Felipe shakes his head. He was definitely not kidding, “Congrats, wow.” Javi blinks, his eyes scanning the room. 

“This is perfect, you two could get to know each other during our meeting.” Felipe waves his finger around the air. Quickly his smile fades, “Good god… Julian coming your way. Have fun, lets go Messina, we've had enough of him today.” 

And like that the two of them sip their cocktails and leave you and Javi stranded. “Fucking assholes.” Javi chuckles before Julian comes into view and Lorraine was right. He was a short man, shorter than you. His suit hung loose on his body but he was awfully handsome and muscular. Although it looked a bit silly with his stature, you smile at him.

“Javier Peña, who’s this?” He says in a far grosser and irritating way, no way near the way Felipe asked. He stood with a glass in his hand. Javier’s face falls into that face he rarely shows you, his stone cold agent face. 

You speak before he can for you, “I’m Andrea, his girlfriend.” You offer your hand and he laughs condescendingly as he shakes it. Clammy. 

“Girlfriend?” He looks at Javier, “This one has a far better dress, a bit underdressed but at the very least not indecent.” He elbows Javier’s side, referring to Lorraine, thinking you aren't aware of whatever unfunny joke he’s attempting to make. Javier’s nostrils flare and before he says anything he’ll regret, you cut in. 

“Well you might need to head to the tailor for the pants. And the jacket lacks… a stain of booze.” You tease right back. His face drops entirely. Javier’s head snaps towards you and his mouth splits into a smile. 

He grabs your arm, “Alright, she’s had a few too many, we're going to our room.” He begins to drag you away and you giggle.

“I haven't had a drop!” You exclaim and he laughs, leaving Julian in the dust as he walks you through the room. 

“You're crazy.” He shakes his head concealing his chuckle as you two exit the room. The air conditioning hits you hard once you leave the bustling room. In an instant he’s hauled you over his shoulder in the hotel hall, “Alright let's go have sex.” 

You shriek from being off ground as he runs in the hall towards the elevator with you dangling over his shoulder. 

Back in Laredo Lorraine calls Genie apologizing about not being able to attend her bachelorette party. Genie and Lorraine had stayed in contact all 6 years, close enough that Genie had Lorraine’s name down as a possible bridesmaid. 

“It really is fine, i’ll be a dud anyway I can’t drink.” Genie jokes, she told Lorraine that she’s trying to get pregnant but not that she’s actually carrying. She excuses her new dry lifestyle on not wanting to gain weight before the wedding. In reality all she’s been doing is gaining weight. 

“Yeah, yeah. Alright, how’s the wedding planning going? Almost a week, are you ready?” She beams, sitting on the counter top of the apartment her and Javi shared. She had half her things packed to come home for the wedding. 

Genie chuckles, “Girl, that’s none of my business. That’s all Andrea and Ms. Diaz.” 

Lorraine bites the inside of her cheek at the sound of your name. She wonders if you and Javier have seen each other since he went home or if you still held that fiery personality and kept distance. 

“Andrea… How’s she doing?” Lorraine closes her eyes, a bit fearful of how it sounded. 

“Oh Andrea? She’s good, teaching school and all that. She’s on a little weekend trip with Javier though. She deserves a break.”

Lorraine feels her cheeks heat in jealousy. 

“Are they—? You know, together?”

She doesn’t care now, she feels it’s her right to know. Genie is silent for a moment and each second that passes Lorraine is angrier.

“No, they aren’t. You know they’ve always been close.”

“Well she’s always had a crush on him though, knowing Javier they’re probably fucking somewhere… that fucking man…”

“Alright, no need to speculate.” Genie interrupts. “It’s their business, but I’m highly doubtful.” 

Lorraine scoffs and looks down at her growing belly. Her brows furrowing and a sudden wave of hope. 

“Right…” She flattens her hand there, “I’ll talk to you soon.”

[meringues000]

Good day for another cup of toxic yaoi (future chapters), innit?

I started my new fic, you can read it here:

I'm going to post the introduction here as well. Enjoy

“So, what are your plans for tomorrow?” Seawatt asked, lounging on the couch as though it was his own, idly dangling his leg. “I found this old book in my closet, it’s some kind of Parkour language textbook. What could a man do out of boredom, huh?” His gaze wandered across the interior parkour course, the white walls, the ceiling.

The Champion was checking his wardrobe, which mostly contained stands with gorgeous armor made of gold, silver, copper with diamonds, emeralds, apatites and other gems. He responded after a pause. “I’m having a consultation regarding the design for a new helmet. How are you still wearing these cast-offs?”

Seawatt bristled, but seemingly halfway, obviously not caring enough about anything the Champion says. “Just because I often wear something doesn’t mean it’s a cast-off.”

“You wear it all the time. Do you even have other clothes?”

“Of course I do, I just stick to the style.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The master was about to launch another argument about social image, when his phone suddenly rang. He sighed loudly, picking it up. 

“I told you not to call me if it’s not an emergency”

The pro on the other line answered nervously. “It kind of is? Someone ranked up.”

Seawatt frowned. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yes sir, one ranked up. A noob by the name of Evbo.”

The master tightened his grip on the phone, his whole body became tense. “Watch him and report immediately if he throws something like that again.”

“Yes sir, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“What’s up?” the Champion inquired casually.

Seawatt knew he needed to tell him this now. Otherwise he’ll get in big trouble. He couldn’t risk his position. He sat straight and cowered, trying to choose his words frantically. “Well, apparently, some noob managed to rank up — which is impossible, I know for a fact, he must’ve cheated, he won’t be a problem, my people will take care of it. Even if he completed the course to become a pro, he will never become a master! He was born a noob and will always be one!” His face had assumed such a pleasant, subservient expression, that it appeared almost vulgar.

The Champion stared at him silently. His face wasn’t visible behind the helmet, which stressed Seawatt even more. He was about to crack a joke, when the Champion finally spoke up.

“You were supposed to make sure nobody ranks up, and you failed.”

The master gulped. “I know. I know. It’s my fault. I made this mistake, because I loosened control. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it! I’ll double check the courses and question all the guards. This won’t happen again, you can have my word!”

“You think you’re irreplaceable? You think there isn’t someone out there who can actually do their job?”

Seawatt clenched his teeth, thinking, ‘Why is he so damn stubborn?’

“I’m sorry sir. It won’t happen again.”

“Just go already.”

Seawatt jumped up from the couch and left the room quietly. ‘Dickhead,’ he grumbled to himself.

Jump after jump, he made his way home with a water bucket, climbed up the stairs into the bedroom and stopped in the middle of the room. His sprawling thoughts raced, so he started pacing feverishly in an attempt to hold them down. He wasn’t afraid of the Champion anymore, but the man who managed to break the system. The man, who was great enough at parkour to beat the impossible course. He was familiar with that kind of determination. He knew that this Evbo won’t stop on the pro level. He’s dangerous and needs to get rid of. Thankfully, parkour doesn’t save from traps.

Seawatt couldn’t predict the future, so he decided to work on plan B, in case this talented noob will get to him. His bedroom was spacious and could fit any kind of parkour he wanted to practice.