#Depicting: Game Boy Pocket

[gaminghardwareingames]

Super Smash Bros. Melee - Part 1

FDrom https://www.spriters-resource.com/gamecube/ssbm/

From https://tcrf.net/Super_Smash_Bros._Melee/Version_Differences

[baby-yongbok]

What Are You Looking At?

Dom!Seungmin x Sub!Fem!Reader

-`♡´- Genre: Smut, some plot mostly porn

-`♡´- Summary: One question turned into an entire scene

-`♡´- Word Count: 3.9k

-`♡´- Warnings: Dominant/Submissive Dynamics, Hard Dom Seungmin and a bit of Dom Hyunjin, Choking, Slapping [for a second] , Degradation, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Mentions of other members relationships, OT8 are involved, Previous consent implied, use of sex toys in public, Aftercare [Some on screen, more implied off screen] (Sorry If I missed any)

-`♡´- A/N: This was something that I've wanted to post for a while but I just never got around to editing it until now! I hope that you enjoy! And yes the reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡. This fic was 100% self-indulgent and contributed towards my Seungmin Brainrot

❥ Names Used Towards Reader: Slut, Pathetic, Pitiful, Whore

-`♡´- Masterlist -`♡´-

It’s not everyday that your boyfriend invites you to be his date to an event, so when Seungmin invited you to attend one of the many events to promote the new album with him and his members, you excitedly accepted. It’s been a while since you’ve all gotten together and any day with all of the boys is more than entertaining so you found yourself getting more excited than usual for this event. 

Of course, Seungmin had one condition when he invited you, he had to pick out your entire outfit. It was a fairly upscale event so formal attire was the only appropriate choice. You knew the moment that he requested to pick out your outfit that you’d be matching your man, it’s something that he loves but will never admit. He loves when the two of you look like a couple and carry similar visual energies. 

Your outfits were fairly basic. He had a white dress shirt and black slacks with small more flashy designer elements incorporated into the outfit. For you, he picked out a black gown of the same brand that he was wearing. It’s his go to dress for you to wear at events when he wants you to be on everyone’s radar. When he wants the two of you to be eye-catching and wants every single person in the room to eye the dips and curves of your perfect plush figure.  

There was one condition to your outfit though, a dare of sorts. 

“Why are these here?” You asked as you looked over the outfit laid out on your bed. The soft black panties with the built in vibrator along the gusset were resting on top of your velvety black gown.

“Ah, right, I wanted to propose a little game for the night.” You eyed Seungmin through the bedroom mirror as he fiddled with the glossy buttons of his dress shirt. “ You wear those and let me control them throughout the night. If you hide it well you get to be in charge tonight.” 

Your face lights up at the sound of his offer. You’ve been begging him to let you dominate him in bed for months but he always turns you down.  

“If you make it too obvious or get caught in any way then I get to use you all night.” He turns to face you, slipping a hand into his pocket. “And I can use any toy that I please.”

You suck your teeth at him, he’s been itching to use the new spreader bar that he ordered a month ago since the day that it arrived. You weren’t sure about it when it got here and you still aren’t very sure about it now. Of course you think that it’ll be fun to use but you know Seungmin and you know just how rough he likes to be when you aren’t restricted by any toys or rope so you can only imagine how it’ll be when your legs are permanently spread open for him. You think for a second, trying to weigh your options but the thought of being able to be in charge of him for a night is way too tempting to pass up. 

“Deal.” You smile, holding out your pinky finger and he copies the action twisting his finger around yours and leaning in for a swift kiss. 

“Good luck, I’m not gonna take it easy on you.”

“Would it be so horrible to let me be in charge?” You scoff as you slip the panties on, aligning the vibrator to rest against your clit and folds comfortably. 

“Nah.” Just as you move to pick up your dress a deep vibration rumbles through your core and a gasp leaves your lips followed by a choked moan. You glare over at your boyfriend, his hand is in his pocket, most likely holding the tiny remote, and there’s a devious smirk resting on his lips while he watches you. “I just figured that if I’m gonna do it I should make you work for it.”

“You’re not gonna break me.” You roll your eyes as you push your thighs together, the vibrations stop abruptly and you let out a breath that you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“You know that I love a challenge."

You were more than excited when you saw all of the boys, but they seemed ten times more excited to see you. They updated you on everything that they could think of from games that they’ve started playing, songs that they started writing, and Hyunjin even let you get a sneak peak into his art folder on his phone. Of course, Seungmin decided to torture you in the most delicious way the entire time, but much to his dismay, you held your composure, even with him whispering pure filth into your ear all evening. You’ve been through your fair share of edging and teasing since dating Seungmin so a game like this was nothing compared to the countless times that you’ve begged and cried on his cock after being fucked for hours on end. He’s the type of dominant that takes pleasure in training his submissive and you’re the type of submissive that loves to do everything so perfectly that it’s almost infuriating, especially for someone like Seungmin who has a thing for taming brats.

“Can I have a coffee too?” You asked as you sat between Hyunjin and Changbin. Your boyfriend only glared at you as he stood from his seat and made his way over to the coffee machine to make himself a drink. You try your best to hide your smirk as you push your thighs together. He's being extra mean to you today and all of the guys have noticed it. They’ve all been extremely nice to you to make up for it but what they don’t know is that this is all a part of Seungmin’s game. He knows that you’re an absolute slut for degradation and that each nasty word and eyeroll is getting under your skin and sending a shock right to your clit but to the guys the two of you are just having a bad day. 

Changbin puts in his request right after you and follows by repeating your question but he’s met with silence just as you were a second ago. Instead of answering either of you, Seungmin starts talking to Jeongin about something that you’re barely paying any attention to as he makes everyone a drink except you, allegedly. 

You zone out as Changbin starts messing with Hyunjin, he’s teasing him about something random and the sound of them laughing registers as a distant echo as you take the time to admire just how good your man looks right now. You’ve seen Seungmin in more suits than you can count but there’s something about what he’s wearing tonight that has you in a choke hold. Maybe it's the perfect fit of his pressed dress shirt or the way the fabric of his dress pants stretches over his thighs. It could also be the fact that you’ve been edged by these damn vibrating panties for the past two and a half hours. You sat through an entire press conference as your boyfriend messed with the tiny remote in his pocket, watching you from the corner of his eye and stopping the vibration right when he saw your eyes roll back or noticed your balance become a bit unsteady. 

 You watch him as he takes out his phone and glances over at you for no more than a second before looking down at his screen. The micro interaction snaps you out of your daze and you pull your attention over to Changbin as you try your best to focus on anything else.

“You looked so cute on the stage, Hyunjinnie.” Changbin continues to tease the man next to you as he reaches behind you to pinch at his cheeks. Hyunjin moves away, dodging his hand and looking down at his phone, most likely to text his girlfriend who’s a close friend of yours. You smile to yourself since you’re the one who introduced them to each other and played cupid for a bit until they fell for each other.

“Binnie, he’s gonna keep ignoring you if you don’t -” You’re cut off by a loud gasp that catches Changbin off guard and startles Felix who’s sitting next to him. You clear your throat and shift in your seat a bit, trying your best to calm down as the vibrator buzzes against your core at its highest setting. Once you feel that you’ve settled a bit you glare over at your boyfriend with the calmest expression you can manage to keep. He stares back at you, matching your expression with a hint of a smirk on his face. 

"What are you looking at?" The slight smile on his face contradicts the bite in his voice and you find yourself pressing your plush thighs together again. The pressure against your clit pushes you closer to your orgasm but that’s the last thing that you want to do. You can’t cum here in front of all of his friends, not because it would be embarrassing, the two of you have talked about putting on a show for his friends for a long time and you’re more than into it, but if you cum right now in front of everyone you’ll lose the game. There’s no way that you’re losing this. 

"Seungmin, stop being so mean to her, what's up with you two?" Hyunjin tries to come to your defense, pushing his phone into his pocket and glaring at the younger member as you choke back a moan.

"She's a slut." His tone is flat like he’s speaking a well known fact.

"Hey, whoa why would you say that?" It's Changbin's turn to defend you, he sounds more than fed up with the attitude that your partner has had towards you today. Gosh, if only he knew the half of it.

"Because it's true, you're a slut aren't you?" Seungmin turns his attention towards you, taking a couple of steps forward and standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you hold back. He notices every slight raise of your eyebrows and the way that you lightly bite at your bottom lip, he knows that he’s winning. All movement in the room comes to a subtle stop as the members watch the situation unfold in front of them. You can hear the door open and close quickly and you assume that what was left of the staff decided to give you all some privacy, thank gosh.

"Seungmin, seriously, stop it." Chan speaks up as he makes his way to the side of the couch that you’re sitting on with Changbin and Hyunjin. Your boyfriend is way too invested in you to heed his warning, he’s way too focused on winning to care about what anyone else says. He rolls up his sleeves further before kneeling in front of you and grabbing your jaw harshly. 

“Look at me.” You swiftly fix your gaze on him, earning more of a smile from the dark haired man in front of you. You can hear Han, Jeongin and Minho protest the harsh action in your defense. They all turn their chairs to face the two of you and Changbin moves over a bit to give you some room between him and Hyunjin. 

“Seungmin seriously.” Chan protests again, putting his hand on the younger member's shoulder but he swiftly shrugs it off, never taking his eyes off of you. 

"Tell them." You whimper at his request as you bat your thick lashes at him. Your glassy doe eyes tell him everything that he needs to know, He’s studied every single part of you, every move and every sound. You’re trying so hard to keep it in but your sub space is setting in heavy especially with all of these eyes on you, it just turns you on ten times more. You’re a sucker for being a good girl for your man especially when there’s an audience.  

"I'm a slut." Your words come out in a gasp as a tear trails down your cheek. The vibration abusing your clit feels so much more intense as your vision becomes hazy and your body starts to feel like it’s floating. Seungmin’s fully smiling now, admiring how pretty you look in your headspace. Since you’ve slipped into yours it’s time for him to fully slip into his. He’s in full dominant mode now, he’s hyper vigilant, using his extensive knowledge of you to lead him through the scene. Han stands from his seat, looking over the younger man's shoulder, unsure of what to say. 

"Tell. Them. Now." A small yet firm slap to your cheek punctuates each word that comes out of his mouth and you can hear Felix’s deep voice start to protest before it’s cut off by a deep moan leaving your parted lips. It feels like the air in the room thickened as soon as the sound registered, you blink a couple of times as you try to think of a way to cover it up, maybe you can say that you’re just kidding, maybe you can say that it was all a filthy prank. Maybe you’ll just ignore Seungmin’s orders, you need to win this game, there’s no way that you can lose.

Your thoughts are racing at a hundred miles per hour, but the moment that your eyes meet your partner's brown ones again, you cave. You crack completely, slipping deep enough into your sub space to be at his mercy. You know that he’d never put you in an unsafe situation and you both have even spoken to the guys about letting them sit in on a scene between you and him some day, you just didn’t know that today would be the day, to be fair none of them did, not even Seungmin.

"What the fuck?" That’s all that he can manage to think of but instead of answering him Seungmin waves at him dismissively. 

"Shh you'll miss the best part." His eyes stay on yours as he watches you slip and even through your hazy state you don’t dare to break his gaze.

"Color?" Changbin furrows his brows at the question that leaves your boyfriend's lips and Hyunjin raises his. You mumble a weak ‘green’ and you can hear your boyfriend confirm your response faintly before you turn your attention back over to your rising orgasm.

"No fucking way." Hyunjin scoffs in disbelief, a surprised yet entertained smile on his face. 

"Looks like you got caught." Seungmin teases as he exchanges looks with Hyunjin, the only other open and proud dominant in the room. Since you introduced Hyunjin to your close friend who is now his girlfriend and submissive, he and Seungmin have often talked about having semi-public scenes with their partners in front of the other members. Hyunjin swore that he'd be the first to do it but it looks like Seungmin beat him to it. 

"Pathetic isn't she?" Seungmin asks towards Hyunjin and he clicks his tongue in response. 

"Absolutely pitiful." 

"Why the fuck are you guys doing that? She's fucking crying for Christ's sake." Minho makes his way over to stand next to Chan and at this point there's an entire circle around the two of you. Hyunjin watches you with curious eyes and an amused grin as you press your plush thighs together which truly isn’t helping the violent pulsing of your clit against your panties. 

Seungmin watches you too, keeping note of your reaction and searching for any signs of discomfort. Once he's sure that you’re fine he lets go of his grip on your jaw and you whine at the loss of contact. You’re way too far gone to care about how you look or sound now, all that you know is that you're absolutely desperate for release and you’ll do anything to get it.

"You guys don't believe that she's a slut?" The room is quiet in response to Seungmin's question as they all watch her. Now they're catching on. "Watch."

Seungmin's hand cages your neck swiftly, pinning you against the curved back of the couch. His grip is light at first as he only applies a soft amount of pressure to the sides of your throat but you can feel his grip gradually become more intense with each passing second and you can’t help the whining moans that escape you as you fight the urge to rut your hips into the air as your dripping pussy clenches around nothing. 

"Seungmin, what the -'' Changbin is cut off by a loud whiny moan escaping you once Seungmin hits the pressure that you go dumb for. You lose your self control almost instantly and give into your horny desire to rut your hips into the air, desperate for any type of friction. 

"Such a whore. You want to cum?" You shake your head as best you can with whines falling from your lips uncontrollably. "Hyunjin, countdown from five."

"I'd love to." Hyunjin, turns more towards the two of you to get a clear look at the desperation on your face with each number that passes.

 "Five” He waits for a couple of seconds too long, clearly teasing you. Your friend did say that he could be a tease. You just wish that you weren’t finding that out right now. “Four...Three.”

He rests his chin in his palm, pretending to be bored with the task despite the smirk on his face “Three and a half....Two....hm where was I?"

Seungmin chuckles at your frustrated whine as Hyunjin fake pouts towards the two of you.

"Better start over to be sure." 

"I think you're right, let's see." Hyunjin takes a deep breath and you can’t help but to let out a deep desperate cry as tears flow down your cheeks. You’ve been holding back for so long that it feels like every inch of your body is on fire. You know the rules: If you cum without permission you get punished. Seungmin’s punishments are anything but fun. He has a talent for coming up with the most grueling punishments that could ever cross a dominants mind. You’ve learned to love them in a strange way but you’ve already lost the game, you don’t want to give him more to look forward to tonight. 

"So pretty when you cry" Seungmin smirks at Hyunjin’s comment while the others around them simply watch in aroused confusion. They haven't taken their eyes off of you since the beginning and they wouldn’t dream of even blinking now.  

"Alright so let’s do it nice and slow this time. One, Two, Three.”

“Three and a half.” He pauses, closing his eyes to ‘think’ for a second “Four....Four and a half.... Hmm.”

“What's after that?" Seungmin teases in mock confusion and Hyunjin shrugs as he looks around at the other members who now seem more than entertained by the game the two are playing.

"Mm, I don't remember. Do you remember, Felix?" Hyunjin asks the blonde sitting next to Changbin as he shifts his gaze fully towards you so that he can admire the way your eyes roll back as your body practically shakes with anticipation. Seungmin loosened his grip on your neck a couple of seconds ago but you haven’t stopped moaning and whimpering ever since he first touched you. 

"No clue." Hyunjin smiles as Felix plays along with him and Seungmin’s game.

"Hm, what about you Chan? Do you remember what comes after four?" Seungmin looks over at his elder, giving him a slight head tilt to confirm that he can truly answer. The once confused but now fully aroused member takes a second before replying. He looks over at you before finally saying the very thing that you’ve been dying to hear

"Five" You gasp in excitement as your lidded eyes meet the lust glazed ones of your partner. It’s almost like you forgot that everyone else was in the room. All that mattered was Seungmin and you only wanted to hear him say one thing.

"Lucky girl" Seungmin pulls you forward by your neck, the harsh movement makes you drag out a loud and lazy moan. "Cum."

Without so much as a second thought you’re letting go in front of everyone. You’re shaking, crying and gasping like a fish out of water as your orgasm rips through you like the venom of a vampire. You lean forward into Seungmin as you grid your cunt against the couch and rest your head on his shoulder. He moves his hand from your neck to your back as he rubs soothing circles into the velvet fabric of your dress. 

“That’s my girl. Sounds so pretty, did so well.” Everyone watches as they weave through various stages of amazement and disbelief as you come down from your high.

Once he sees that you’re riding out the pleasure Seungmin reaches into his pocket to turn off the vibrator. You pant against him, small whimpers escaping you as tears roll down your cheeks. 

“Han, would you pass me a water bottle please?” He does as he asks, leaning over a shocked Minho to reach for the water bottles on the table and handing one to Seungmin.

“I’ll get you your coffee and then I’ll hold you alright? Can you wait for just a second?” He whispers in your ear and you nod against him the best that you can. Usually he’d ask you to use your words but he figured that he’ll let it slide this time.

 Seungmin gives you a soft kiss on your cheek before leaning you back against the couch. You nearly fall over into Changbin who holds you up awkwardly before Hyunjin moves in a bit closer to you. He gives Seungmin a look, asking for permission to touch you which your partner swiftly allows before standing from his spot in front of you and moving back to the coffee machine. He rolls up his sleeves that have fallen down a bit as he starts the machine again and starts to make your favorite aftercare drink. 

Hyunjin puts his arm around you and he allows you to rest on his chest, he rubs up and down your arm and whispers to you to try and ground you a bit. This isn’t the first time that you and Seungmin have done a scene with Hyunjin so he’s no stranger to the type of aftercare that you receive. The rest of the boys look between your limp body resting against your friend and your boyfriend who’s nonchalantly operating the coffee machine while they  quietly try to put the pieces together and figure out exactly what they just witnessed. Seungmin feels the burning stares on the side of his face as he waits for your glass to fill and turns towards his members with a straight face. 

"What are you looking at?" No one responds, they all just stare between you as they open and close their mouths and try to figure out the right question to ask while attempting to hide their aching hard ons. The room stays quiet until Jeongin sighs and stands from his seat.

"Is anyone going to ask what the fuck just happened or is it going to have to be me?"

[Note: In a healthy BDSM dynamic or scene all members involved should consent before hand. This is a work of fiction and is no way a representation of what real ethical scenes should look like unless there are clear boundaries.]

[thepencilnerd]

take a slice

Summary: No one could imagine a more cunning or manipulative player than Shuntaro Chishiya—until he meets you. complete fic on my ao3 here <3 Word Count: 3.8k Contains: Depictions of violence, unresolved sexual tension, emotional constipation

A/N: because I binge-watched Alice In Borderland in the span of two days and I am very late to the party (but never too late for self-indulgent fan service)

Chishiya spots you across the same floor, your black silhouette nearly lost in the shadows of the night. It’s only your movement that catches his attention, the dark outerwear a sharp contrast to his bright white jacket. You and he are the only players scouting from this vantage point, watching from above while the chaos brews below.

The night is eerily quiet—the calm before the storm, as they say. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a moment, time seems to freeze. Chishiya feels his heartbeat falter, a fleeting hitch he quickly tamps down.

Before he can fully process it, you’ve already vanished around a corner, just as a rain of bullets peppers the area behind you.

A boy’s voice echoes from below, frantic. "The only way to clear this game is to work together!"

Bullshit , you think.

There must be a reason behind the attacker's anchoring position, Chishiya muses.

Of course.

When you finally make your way to the safe room, you’re welcomed by four unfamiliar figures: the spree-killing horse, the brunette boy from earlier, a girl with a bob, and the blonde. 

Chishiya strikes swiftly, the crackle of his taser breaking the stillness. The masked attacker crumples to the floor, their face hitting the ground with a muffled thud. You waste no time, stomping down hard on their wrist, sending the gun skittering from their hand. Before they can recover, you grab the weapon and fire a single round into the crown of their skull. 

When you glance up, you catch the faintest trace of a smirk ghosting across the blonde’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly.

In the seconds that follow, the two other players in the room hastily slam their hands on the red buttons lining the walls.

GAME COMPLETE. CONGRATULATIONS WINNERS. 

Turning around, a pair of wide eyes greets you. 

“Thank you,” the boy finally speaks, addressing you and the blonde in a shaky voice. 

You respond with a nod, glancing over at the girl and seeing her return the acknowledgement. 

“Don’t mention it.” The blonde’s condescending tone from behind you is paralleled only by his burning gaze, locking onto you immediately. He almost misses seeing you slip something from the dead body into your pocket. 

You feel his focus linger on you as you leave the room. 

The night air is thick with tension, the distant cries from nearby arenas only amplifying the silence with each footstep behind you. You don’t bother turning around; you already know who it is.

Chishiya steps into your peripheral vision, his pace unhurried, like a cat stalking in the shadows. The forest buzzes with the threat of unseen dangers, but all his attention is locked on you.

"You didn’t have to kill him," he says, his voice casual, almost amused, as though discussing the weather.

You don’t stop walking. "You didn’t stop me."

A quiet chuckle escapes him, barely more than a breath. "True." His tone remains light, but there’s an edge beneath it, like he’s testing you, challenging you. "Still, you’ve got a certain efficiency. Impressive."

Your expression stays neutral. And yet, Chishiya’s presence beside you stirs something strange—a shared awareness, as if you’re both circling an invisible boundary neither of you are quite ready to cross—yet.

"You took something," he says, breaking the silence again, his voice calm but probing. His gaze stays forward, unreadable. "From the body."

You glance at him briefly, just enough to meet his eyes, which glint with curiosity under the moonlight. He’s trying to figure you out.

"And what if I did?" There’s a challenge in your voice now.

Chishiya’s smirk returns, faint but unmistakable. "Nothing. For now."

The tension between you tightens, pulling you closer in the silence. The game isn’t over. Not between the two of you.

As you continue walking, he trails behind, but soon loses sight of you in the dense trees. Shadows shift, swallowing you whole. He barely has time to catch his breath before a sudden force slams him to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. The disturbed soil and decaying leaves soften his fall, but his back still hits the earth with a solid thud.

Your knee digs sharply into his sternum, pinning him down. One hand tightens around his throat, not enough to choke him but enough to strain his breath. The cold, unforgiving edge of a blade presses against his cheek—a silent threat.

Chishiya’s indifferent expression makes your skin crawl, yet his stoic, unflinching gaze cuts through the moment like a dagger—piercing both hot and cold at once. Neither of you speak. It’s a game of cat and cat, both of you testing the other's resolve in this tense, silent standoff.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if you can read each other’s thoughts.

You feel him gulp beneath your hand, his pulse quickening under your fingers. Both of his hands remain raised in surrender by his ears, calm, unwavering, and empty of any weapon or defense. His eyes flicker to the deep scar on your neck, lingering there for just a moment.

The air between you thickens. What feels like minutes pass in the span of heartbeats.

Without warning, you spring up and disappear into the night.

Chishiya stays on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. He sits up slowly, eyes tracing the path you took into the darkness. His chest rises and falls unevenly, the phantom cold of the blade still lingering on his skin. Silence wraps around him like a fog, but his pulse betrays him—racing, driven by more than just adrenaline.

For the first time in longer than he can remember, he feels something—a strange tug deep in his core, like something vital slipped away the moment you left. A curiosity stirs, mingling with the remnants of tension, a silent acknowledgment that this game isn’t over.

It’s only just begun.

Chishiya’s lips twitch into a faint smirk. Your piercing gaze and the scar on your neck are seared into his mind. He knows he’ll see you again. And next time, he won’t be caught off guard.

“You look like you have something on your mind.”

Kuina sits down across from Chishiya, her curiosity piqued as she watches him stare off into the distance. The evening air is still, a rare calmness settling over the Beach after a chaotic night.

Chishiya leans back, crossing his arms, a faint hum escaping his lips. “Just an interesting game tonight,” he replies casually, but there’s a lingering spark in his gaze that betrays more.

Kuina raises an eyebrow. “Must’ve been some game, then.”

“Perhaps,” Chishiya says, his voice smooth and unhurried. The rush of endorphins from the near-death experience still thrums faintly through his veins. 

The cause? A player whose actions were as cunning and unpredictable as his own. The thrill of narrowing down their motivations felt like a puzzle finally worth solving.

His mind drifts back to the game, replaying each moment like scenes in a movie. The chaos, the desperate shouts, and the blaring alarms all felt distant—mere background noise compared to the razor-sharp focus he'd found himself drawn to. That focus was centered on one person.

You had been an anomaly from the start. There was a precision in the way you moved, calculated and unfazed by the panic unraveling around you. It was as if you thrived on the chaos, embraced it even, letting it fuel each step you took. While the other players were scrambling to find shelter or allies, you seemed to anticipate every move, predicting the patterns before they even unfolded.

And then, the moment that had truly hooked him: the kill. Cold, efficient, and executed without a trace of hesitation. You weren’t just surviving; you were playing the game in its purest form—adapting, evolving, always a step ahead. There was no hesitation in your actions, no unnecessary flourish—just the unyielding will to end a threat. It wasn’t just about self-preservation; it was about winning. And that’s what made you different.

Chishiya’s curiosity flared the instant your eyes met his in the aftermath. For the briefest moment, he’d seen a flicker of something—recognition, maybe even a hint of challenge. Like you were silently asking him if he had what it took to keep up.

It was absurd, really, to feel anything in the Borderlands beyond the mechanical urge to survive. But something had shifted tonight. For the first time in what felt like forever, the game had become more than a series of calculated risks and rewards: it had become interesting.

Chishiya’s gaze shifts back to the window where lights scatter the sky. His fingers tap idly on the armrest of his chair, a rhythm betraying the restlessness he tries to mask. He’s always prided himself on being detached, keeping emotions and sentiment far from his calculations. Yet here he is, preoccupied with thoughts that don't have a place in his carefully constructed logic.

"You're quiet," Kuina observes, her tone carrying a hint of amusement. "More than usual, I mean."

Chishiya’s smirk is faint, barely there. “Am I?”

She shrugs, leaning back in her seat. “You’ve been lost in your own head since you got back.” 

Chishiya’s expression doesn’t falter, but there’s a slight shift in his demeanor—a barely perceptible sign of vulnerability, quickly smoothed over. “Maybe I’m just considering... possibilities,” he replies, the words coming slower than usual, as if he’s testing how they sound. 

Kuina’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Possibilities, huh?” She tilts her head, studying him. “That’s one way of putting it. Or maybe… a person?”

Chishiya’s silence is uncharacteristic. He feels the pull to dismiss the notion immediately, to scoff at the idea of being distracted by a person, much less affected by them. But instead, he pauses. It’s enough for Kuina to catch on, her curiosity piqued.

“Interesting,” she murmurs, a teasing smile curling on her lips. “You’re actually thinking about someone, aren’t you?” When he doesn’t respond, she presses further. “It’s a girl, right? Did she do something to catch your eye?”

Chishiya finally meets her gaze, his own guarded but not entirely dismissive. “She’s... unusual,” he admits, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “Not like the others.”

Kuina arches an eyebrow. “Unusual how? Smart? Dangerous?”

“Both,” he replies without hesitation. “Efficient, focused. But there’s something else.” He uncrosses his arms, feeling oddly exposed, as though admitting to these thoughts makes them more real, more tangible. “It’s like she’s not playing the same game as the rest of them.”

Kuina studies him for a moment, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’ve got it bad,” she says, shaking her head. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be drawn to someone for more than their utility.”

He scoffs, a ghost of his usual arrogance returning. “Don’t get carried away. I’m only interested because she might be useful.”

“Sure,” Kuina says with a knowing grin. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Chishiya falls silent again, but the truth gnaws at him. He knows it’s more than just her utility in the grand scheme of escaping this hellhole. It’s the way she challenges him—forces him to reevaluate his strategies and makes him wonder if there’s more to this game than just surviving.

He hates how that thought clings to him, even as he tries to push it away.

Chishiya shifts in his chair, feeling a dull ache radiate from his chest. He’s been operating on a different level since encountering you, and the physical reminder feels almost like an anchor to what he’s been trying to navigate.

He glances at Kuina, who’s still watching him with an amused expression, still probing. “You look like you’re plotting something.”

“Just considering my next move,” he replies, a hint of a smirk returning to his lips. “The game is full of variables, and I need to prepare for them.”

“Variables, huh? Is that what you call her now?” Kuina teases, leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table.

“Focus,” he snaps lightly, but there’s no real heat in his voice. Instead, his mind races ahead to the next game, and how he can draw you in, maybe even observe you more closely. He’s already picturing the scenarios—the players, the setting, the stakes.

What he really wants is a way to see you again. To understand the force that pulls him toward you, the complexity that makes you more than just another player. The anticipation churns within him, exciting yet unnerving.

“What if I made a move to recruit her?” he muses aloud, considering the prospect. “She could be an asset. If she operates outside the norm, that could change the dynamics of our strategies.”

“Or it could blow up in your face,” Kuina counters, her tone light but her gaze serious. “You’re not exactly known for your emotionality, Chishiya. What if she doesn’t want to play?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he replies, brushing off her concern. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

But the truth is, he knows that this isn’t merely about the game anymore. It’s about the way you make him feel—like a player in a game he thought he understood, now suddenly complex and exhilarating. Chishiya can’t shake the thought that if he wants to unlock the potential you represent, he’ll have to make a move soon.

He allows himself a moment of vulnerability, resting his chin on his hand as he reflects. “What if I want to see her again, Kuina? What if it’s not just about strategy anymore?”

Kuina’s eyes widen, clearly surprised by his admission. “Wow. You’re actually admitting you care.”

Chishiya rolls his eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t get carried away.”

“Sure,” she says, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Just remember, sometimes the best strategies are the ones that come from the heart.”

With that, Chishiya’s mind drifts again, calculating and assessing. He’ll be ready for the next game. He’ll be prepared to take any risk to find you again, to unravel the mystery of what you truly are: a partner, a rival, or perhaps something more. As the night draws to a close, the shadows deepen, but a flicker of determination ignites within him.

He will see you again.

A few days have passed since the last game, but the adrenaline still courses through your veins, lingering like a ghost. You survived, but the victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the memory of the indifferent blonde boy who’s drawn you in more than you care to admit.

Your thoughts drift back to that game—its intensity still vivid in your mind. It was like no other you’d experienced, where survival felt more like a dance with death than a struggle against it. And he was at the center of it, moving through the chaos with a calculated grace that caught your attention long before you understood why.

It wasn’t just that he was calm under pressure. Plenty of players had nerves of steel. It was his indifference, the way he seemed detached from the dangers around him, as though nothing could touch him. Where others flinched or panicked, he merely observed, as if the unfolding chaos was a puzzle to solve rather than a life-or-death situation. That kind of control was rare in the Borderlands, and in some strange way, it felt like a dare, an unspoken challenge that made you want to test him, to see if there was anything that could shatter that composure.

You remember the moment you locked eyes across the chaos, the way the world seemed to fade into the background. It was brief, but in that instant, it felt like a silent conversation—an understanding that went beyond words. There was something sharp in his gaze, a spark of curiosity that mirrored your own. It was as if he was evaluating you, sizing you up just as you were doing to him. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if you were seeing a part of yourself reflected back in those cold, calculating eyes.

But it wasn’t just his composure or his gaze that drew you in. It was the way he acted in those crucial seconds when lives hung in the balance. While others scrambled to save themselves, he made moves that seemed almost playful, like he was toying with the danger rather than simply evading it. There was a thrill in watching him maneuver through the madness with an ease that bordered on arrogance, as though he was always three steps ahead of everyone else—including you.

And then there was the moment when the game ended. You had both survived, of course, but there was something in the way he looked at you afterward, something that lingered, a faint smirk that hinted he had seen more than you’d intended to reveal. It wasn’t pity; it was as if he recognized a kindred spirit, someone who understood the game on a different level. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt truly seen. 

That feeling unsettles you even now, as you sit by the fire, staring into the flames. It’s not that you seek validation in the Borderlands; you’ve learned long ago that the only approval that matters is your own. But there’s something about his quiet confidence, the way he seemed to acknowledge you without saying a word, that’s hard to shake. It makes you wonder if he was as unaffected as he appeared or if there was more beneath the surface, something hidden behind that cool exterior.

You clench your jaw, frustrated with yourself for even thinking about him this much. He was just another player—albeit a skilled one—and you’ve dealt with plenty of them before. But there’s a part of you that can’t ignore the way his presence lingers, like a splinter in your mind, a question that refuses to be answered.

Why did he make such an impression on you? Was it his composure, his intelligence, or the quiet thrill of crossing paths with someone who didn’t play by the same rules as everyone else? Or was it the way he seemed to see you in return, as if you were more than just a piece on the board?

You realize that you don’t know the answers—and perhaps that’s what’s most intriguing of all. There’s an unfinished quality to your last encounter, a feeling that your story with him isn’t over yet. It’s as if the game itself has drawn a line between you, daring you to cross it again.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts that have become stubborn visitors in your mind. Why does he occupy your thoughts so much? Is it his calm indifference, the way he moved with calculated grace? Or is it something more that stirs a curiosity you can’t quite define?

Pushing the thoughts aside, you focus on your routine, an independent existence in the Borderlands, where survival means mastering skills few have the patience to learn. You've carved out a small camp nestled within the trees, camouflaged by foliage, a sanctuary of sorts amidst the chaos.

Every morning, you rise before dawn, the cool air biting at your skin as you check your traps. The gentle sounds of the forest waking around you are a familiar symphony, one you find solace in. You harvest small game—rabbits, birds, whatever you can catch—and meticulously prepare them, savoring the simple act of cooking over a small fire.

Hunting and foraging have become second nature. You collect wild herbs and edible plants, storing them in makeshift pouches crafted from scavenged materials. Each successful hunt reminds you of your resilience and strength. 

But even as you focus on these tasks, your mind drifts back to him—the blonde boy from the game. The way his piercing gaze seemed to see right through you, as if he was calculating your every move. It’s unsettling yet exhilarating, a contradiction you can’t wrap your head around.

The sun climbs higher, and you take a break from your chores to wash your hands in a nearby stream, the water refreshing against your skin. As you splash your face, you catch your reflection in the rippling surface, a mix of determination and uncertainty staring back at you.

You spend the afternoon working on camp, reinforcing the makeshift walls and clearing away debris that threatens your space. But even as you work to distract yourself, you can almost feel his presence lurking at the edge of your thoughts, his smirk dancing on your mind like a memory that refuses to fade.

Eventually, you settle on a log outside your camp, a piece of driftwood you dragged from the riverbank. Pulling out your small notebook, you begin to sketch the maps of the Borderlands, noting down resources and potential hideouts. It’s practical, a way to keep your mind sharp, but each mark on the page feels like a tether to the games, to the players who dance around you like shadows.

You reach into your pocket and pull out the small, crumpled piece of paper you took from the body during the game. You’ve looked at it countless times since then, trying to make sense of the chaotic scribbles. It’s a series of numbers and symbols—coordinates, perhaps, or some kind of code. Whatever it is, it’s not immediately clear, and that only deepens your curiosity.

You flatten the paper against the rough surface of the log, comparing it with your sketches. Could it be a location in the Borderlands? A clue to something hidden or an upcoming game? The patterns don’t align with any familiar maps, but something about the markings feels deliberate, as though there’s a message buried within them. You trace the lines with your finger, committing them to memory, trying to see what the original owner had seen. What was so important that they’d die with it?

Your mind drifts back to the moment you took it. The blonde boy’s eyes had flickered towards you—just for a heartbeat—when you pocketed the paper. Did he know what it meant, or had he noticed the same curiosity in you that you now feel?

As you draw, memories of the game resurface: his calculated moves, his indifferent demeanor, and the strange thrill of standing against him. There’s something magnetic about his presence, something that both fascinates and frustrates you.

In the fading light of dusk, you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sounds of the forest wash over you. The call of distant birds, the rustle of branches—each note a reminder that you’re alive, that you’re here, navigating a world filled with peril and unpredictability. But still, the thought lingers. Will your paths cross in the next game, or will you remain a ghost in his memory?

With a sigh, you shake your head and return to your sketches, determination settling in your chest. It doesn’t matter. Yet, in the depths of your mind, a part of you yearns for that inevitable meeting, that chance to unravel the enigma that is the blonde boy.

As darkness settles over the forest, you tuck your notebook away, the images of your maps a promise of the journey ahead. Tomorrow will bring new challenges, new games to navigate. And if fate has its way, perhaps it will also bring him back into your orbit once more.

[hyunverse]

lucky number five ☆ hwang hyunjin.

pairing: hyunjin x fem! reader. tags: fluff, drabble. words: 3k words. warnings: reader is referred to with she/her, called as wife. about: the five most memorable memories you share with hyunjin. note: i haven't written in a while, so my writing's definitely a little rusty. i hope you'll like it! please reblog, and feedback is very much appreciated &lt;3 disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Five is Hyunjin's lucky number.

Hyunjin first met you when he was five. He had pointed out that you were wearing the same shirt as he was — and you've been attached to the hips ever since.

His first tooth fell out on the fifth day of Summer. He could recall holding the baby tooth on a tissue in one hand, looking up at his mother with puppy eyes. His mother patted him on the head and told him he had grown up. The tooth fairy gave him a single gold coin chocolate, too. Tucked it under his pillow where he placed his baby tooth. He remembers having a lisp until the tooth grew back — remembers how jealous you were that he had "grown up."

The first feeling of victory Hyunjin had ever experienced was when he won fifth place in a colouring contest. Truth be told, he could've easily won first place — but he wanted you to win over him just to see you smile, so he coloured messily. Though the trophy for first place looked glorious, he thought that the smile plastered on your face as you held a medal beat the shine on the trophy.

It was the fifth of May when you two started dating. Hyunjin remembers everything about the fated day, bit by bit. He could play each scene, each dialogue in his head like an overplayed radio song. He was merely sixteen, studying in an all boys school with little to no knowledge about dating. Boys his age didn't care about dating. They only cared about soccer and video games. While he cared about all of that too, a lot of the space in his heart was overtaken by you. Figuring out how to ask you out was tough, he had spent a lot of time pondering. He even gathered up the courage to seek advice from his friends, yet to no avail. They were barely any help. In the end, he observed television dramas and prayed for the best.

Under a cherry blossom tree, you sat on a bench. Your eyes were fixated on the sky as your legs dangled over the wooden bench. The clouds on the sky were huge, luminous — enveloping the sky the way lovers do.

"Jinnie!" Hyunjin heard you cheer as he approached you. The nonchalant look on his face immediately turned into a bright smile, his footsteps becoming more hurried.

Standing in front of you, Hyunjin was the perfect depiction of nervous. Both his hands dug deep into the pockets of his jeans, front teeth nibbling onto the inside of his cheeks and the little rocks underneath his foot tumbled as he kicks on them.

Hyunjin gulped, "Hi."

You tilted your head with concern, "are you okay, Jinnie?"

The concern laced in your tone reminded him of all the reasons why he liked you so much. You cared like no other — loved as though nothing could hurt you in this world.

"I am," he replied, rubbing on the back of his neck, "I just —"

"You don't have to rush it," you tapped on the seat beside you, "sit with me. You can take your time to tell me whatever that's on your mind."

So, Hyunjin sat. His legs reached the ground unlike yours, and his eyes fixated on the stain on his sneakers. He was painfully aware of the rapid beating of his heart. The urge to tell you his feelings were bottling up quickly.

Then, it spilled.

"I like you a lot," the words were muttered before Hyunjin could stop them.

"Hm?"

"I like you," he repeated. This time, he sounded more sure, looked more sure. The raven was looking at you, blinking sanguinely.

It took a while for you to process the words, for your jaw to relax and finally respond.

The first response came in a way where you slowly turned your head towards him, blinking profusely.

You stuttered, "like me? Like like, or just friends like?"

He sighed, "like like. I like like you."

"Oh."

There it goes, the rejection. Hyunjin had expected it, but it hurt nonetheless. You were the only person Hyunjin had ever liked, his best friend since kindergarten. His feelings for you ran deep. He was merely sixteen, yes, but he was well aware of how strongly he felt for you.

You didn't expect it, but he tapped on your shoulder comfortingly, as if to say, "I know you don't like me, it's okay."

You were right.

"I know you don't like me, it's okay," he comforted, "I just wanted you to know."

"No, I do like you," you confessed.

"What?"

"Yeah," you replied, breathlessly, "was just shocked, that's all."

"Oh."

Silence blanketed the two of you as the conversation exchanged slowly seeped into your brains. Hyunjin looked like he was simply admiring the view in front of him but really, his brain was going haywire.

"No, I do like you," the words repeated in his brain over, and over. They filled his brain with dopamine, the kind of rush that even his favourite football team winning could not replicate.

The five words which will be engrained in Hyunjin's mind forever.

"I like you a lot."

The five words which will be engrained in yours.

"So..." you broke the silence, "what now?"

Hyunjin's pointer circled against the wood of the bench, itching to hold your hand, "we... you know. Date."

"Yeah. Okay."

For best friends who have known each other for years, it was abnormally quiet for the two of you.

But it was okay. Hyunjin was content with the small smile lingering on your pretty face, and your hand in his — finally in his.

𝐭𝐰𝐨.

The sound of a pan sizzling and a kettle crackling seeped into the guest bedroom, though the sound of Hyunjin and his mother's voice caught your attention the most.

You were spending the weekend at the Hwangs'. Your parents were on a company trip that weekend and didn't trust you alone so naturally, they dropped you off there. You were about to take your morning shower, a towel slung over your shoulder when their voices stopped you in your tracks.

"You really like her, Hyunjin?" his mother asked, her voice the epitome of motherly.

She truly is the stereotypical loving mother — soft, and nurturing. Lunchbox ready on the table every morning, not a single football match of Hyunjin's missed. Treated you like the daughter she never had, braided your hair by the porch as Hyunjin ran around with his beloved dog.

"Um," Hyunjin muttered, silverware clinking against plate as he cut through a sausage.

You clasped your ear against the door, eager to hear more.

"You don't have to be shy with me, Hyunjin."

"I do like her," you heard him say, "a lot."

Crimson crept up your face, and you could picture his face doing the same. You could imagine the tips of his ears going red, and his mother looking at him with a grin.

"You want to marry her?" she asked jokingly.

"I do," he answered. Confidently. Surely. Absolutely no hesitation. As though it was the one sole thing he was sure of in his life.

"Oh, my Hyunjin," his mother cooed, "you're all grown up now!"

You didn't know what happened next, how their conversation continued because you were too busy stifling yourself from giggling giddily. Your back was pressed up against the door, replaying the eavesdropped dialogues in your head over and over. Overcame by excitement, you failed to notice the footsteps approaching the door.

Before you knew it, your head came in contact with the wall as the door swung open. Hyunjin stood in front of you, confused as you rubbed your forehead.

"So aggressive, and for what?" you grunted, looking up at him with a pout.

"Who told you to stand by the door like an idiot?" Hyunjin huffed. Nevertheless, he reached towards your forehead, checking for any bruises.

"You'll be okay. Next time, don't stand by the door like an idi—" he paused, "wait. Did you hear anything?"

You batted your eyelashes innocently, playing dumb.

"Hear what?"

Hyunjin sighed out of relief, ruffling your hair, "nothing you need to worry your pretty self about. Just go shower. I saved you some pancakes."

"Aw," you pecked his lips, "you're so sweet, and so caring. You must want to marry me."

He smiled, but the face soon contorted into one of annoyance.

"So you heard!"

"Heard what? The fact that you're obsessed with me and want to marry me so bad?"

"You're so annoying, y/n."

"You still want to marry me though."

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, "shut up, or I'll take it back."

He wouldn't.

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞.

Exhaustion lugged on Hyunjin as he exited the entertainment building. He's been a trainee for a couple of months now, and the burn-out was no joke. A day with you was exactly what he needed. A couple of days spent with his home, his solace — and he refused to come empty-handed.

Thus, he roamed around the park, in search of wildflowers. Anything he could get his hands on, just as long as he could form a bouquet from them. Hyunjin ducked and moved around, pulling out any flower he deemed beautiful enough. A black hair tie tied together the ensemble of florals. He wished he had managed to get his hands on some ribbons but alas, he couldn't. For now, the black hair tie on his wrist would suffice.

You arrived right when you promised you would. Clad in a pretty yellow sundress, Hyunjin swore that you came right out of a daydream. He watched you wander around in the park for a while, admiring from afar. Even with a confused expression plastered across your face, he still found you gorgeous. A part of him wished that he was simply your secret admirer, so that he could keep watching you from afar for hours. Not being able to be around you would suck though, so perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all. 

“Y/n!” Hyunjin finally called you out, waving his hand to catch your attention, “here!” 

You whipped your head towards his direction, lips twitching into the cutest smile once you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend. 

An arrangement of colourful flowers was handed to you once you were in front of him.  You vividly remember how beautiful it was — petals of yellow, pink, and white which coincidentally matched your dress. Hyunjin on the other hand remember how you looked, the pupils of your eyes practically shining at the ensemble. 

“For me?” you asked, looking at him with big, bright, eyes.

Hyunjin nodded, “for you, of course. Flowers for a flower.”

“Oh,” was all that you could utter, overwhelmed by appreciation. You gently pet the petals, “they’re so pretty.”

“Really?” Hyunjin queried, “I don’t have any money. I wish I could buy you pretty roses and tulips, but I really cannot afford them right now. This is the best that I could do, and I’m sorry my love.”

“Don’t you dare say sorry, Hwang Hyunjin. The fact that you spent time to find these flowers means a lot to me, and makes them even more special. I love them, they’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He nodded, smiling sheepishly. All the worries he previously harboured immediately disappeared at your words. 

“Okay, love. Let’s go then, find more flowers and I’ll make a wreath out of them for you.”

Years later, and the flowers had long wilted away — pressed and put in a frame for display, resting on a table with vases of flowers accompanying it. 

Hyunjin never stopped gifting you flowers. 

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫.

A yellow bus drove away, leaving two figures at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. 

The outskirts of Seoul — only ever acknowledged as a place vehicles pass by. No stores, no houses in sight, just a lonesome bus stop surrounded by greens. 

Hyunjin would’ve never stepped foot in this place if it wasn’t for you. If it wasn’t for you climbing into his window and hysterically crying, he wouldn’t have purchased tickets to the middle of nowhere. He would probably be in bed and wake up at noon. 

“I want to run away,” you told him, hours before.

“Okay,” he replied, “I’ll go with you.” 

Normally, Hyunjin wouldn’t support your attempts at rebelling against your parents. Honestly, the words, “don’t be dumb and just say sorry,” sat at the top of his tongue, but they dissolved at the sight of your mascara running down your cheeks. He knew that even if he was to disagree, you would’ve packed your bags and left anyway. He would rather follow to keep you safe.

Plus, the boy knew that the rebellion would only last a couple of hours.

“Let’s sail off without a map. Just walk and see what we’ll discover.”

“Okay.”

God knows how many of those he already said to you that day. 

You walked, hand in hand, him siding with the highway. You looked far too relaxed for someone who was running away. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was terrified. If anything were to happen to the two of you there, nobody would be there to help. His free hand dug into his pocket, tightly clutching onto a butterfly knife. 

Minutes soon turned into an hour. Two people walking soon turned into one — Hyunjin ended up carrying you on his back after seeing that you’ve blistered your feet. He nagged about your choice of footwear, but amidst the nags, he still opted to carry you anyway. Your hands rested around his neck, chin on his head as he walked aimlessly, just waiting for you to finally cave in and ask to go home. 

“Hyunjin, look!”

“Hm?”

The boy turned around, gasping at the sight which greeted his eyes. A field of flowers stretched as far as his eyes could see, green plains decorated with splotches of colourful flowers. 

Before he could say anything, you were already running towards the field, screaming in glee. He followed in pursuit, taking in the breeze and letting blades of grass sway against his legs. 

“Hurry!” 

Hurry, Hyunjin did, running towards you and lifting you off the ground. Hyunjin took advantage of the seemingly infinite space to twirl you around, and run around until the two of you turned breathless, lying on the grass to look at the sky. 

“I love this place,” you mumbled between heavy breaths, “feels like something you only see in your dreams.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow. 

Quietly, he admired you. The tranquil expression your face held matched that of the sky. He couldn’t stop the hand reaching towards your face, calloused thumb caressing your face with the same softness of a feather. Each stroke of his thumb whispered, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

“Thank you,” your words reeled Hyunjin out of his daze, “for coming here with me.”

His eyes on you softened. 

“You don’t have to thank me. Just be around forever,” sat at the top of Hyunjin’s tongue and dissolved. 

Instead, he pressed a kiss onto your lips.

𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞.

Hyunjin asked you to marry him five years after you started dating.

It was the peak of his career. He was everywhere around the world, collecting awards and breaking records. The little boy who loved football slowly turned into a superstar. He had to bid goodbye to his quiet life, making space for all the glory the world had to offer to him. His name sat at the tip of everyone’s tongues, talk of the town — Achilles reincarnate. 

That was when he decided that he would have to marry you. For amidst all that glory, you were the only stagnant thing in his life. You continued to annoy and nag him as you always do. You continued to be the first person he thinks of when he wakes, and the last person he thinks of as he shuts his eyes. You’re always the person he has in mind as he looks for souvenirs, and when he watches old couples sitting on benches in different cities.

You, you, you. 

Always you. 

Boxes scatter around the living room, some opened and some not. It’s been a few hours since the moving truck unloaded all of the boxes. Honestly, you could’ve gotten so many things done if it weren’t for the two of you constantly procrastinating. 

“Just a five-minute break, babe,” Hyunjin whines, landing on a (still wrapped in plastic) sofa. 

You roll your eyes, “you’ve taken breaks like three times just this hour, Jinnie.”

He whines again, making grabby hands, “need my wife here right now or I’ll die.” 

The sigh which leaves your lips cannot fool him, because the slight grin on your lips gives away that you like his clinginess. You seat yourself in his arms, burying yourself in his neck. The familiar scent of fresh laundry and cologne fills your nostrils, washing away the exhaustion from the day. 

“Me, my wife, and a new house,” you hear Hyunjin mumble, “feels like a dream.”

You voice your agreement by humming. It’s when you stare at the boxes surrounding you that the reality finally sinks in. You’re married to the boy you met in kindergarten. His toothbrush will be in a cup next to yours, his mug will be in the dishwasher with yours, and your dirty laundry will be in the same machine. You’ll wake up next to him every day for what you hope will be your entire life. 

You smile at the thought, sinking yourself into Hyunjin even more. He’s holding you with one hand, the other rummaging through a box when he takes out a Polaroid, showing you it with glee.

A Polaroid of you and him under a cherry blossom tree, five years ago. 

“Isn’t this from the first day we started dating?” Hyunjin asks, blinking his eyes at you.

You tilt your head to observe the polaroid, “oh… Yes, it is, babe!”

He’s laughing, particularly at how red his face looks in the picture. 

“Oh my god, we have to recreate this picture soon, love.”

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disclaimer — © 2023 hyunverse on tumblr. all rights reserved. authors works are protected under the copyright law. do not plagiarize or translate my works. tumblr is my only platform.

[wraithdance]

Good Boy [Part 2/?]

CW: Mentions of canon childhood trauma & abuse, ptsd depictions, awkwardness, Afab!Reader, I’m a dirty liar there will be more parts of this so enjoy the calm before the storm or whatever. This is apart of the Stray Dogs series

Simon is put on leave.

He’d received a nasty hairline break in his wrist after a fall out of a moving car during a recent op. (He’d been pushed out really but semantics didn't matter in the end because he'd gutted the man that had done it.) Price had nearly come to blows with him when he threatened the medic who signed off on his medical leave. Simon had been escorted off the property with strict orders to not return until he was cleared.

The cast is uncomfortable, the sensation of his bare fingers out while in public sends the talons of anxiety coursing through his body. So, he stays in his bare flat. The silence is loud and suffocating, not even the occasional echoes of his neighbors or the drone of a forgotten Manchester United game helps against the heavy weight of isolation.

After a week he’s spiraling in the dark of his own home. Stray lights bounce off the walls from between the cracks of his blinds, sending him into wide eyed paranoia. He had begun seeing things that weren’t there. Shadows moving to embrace him like a burial shroud, movement from the corner of his eyes. Nothing there when he points his pistol at the corners. He can’t sleep for long before the sound of the dull thunk of dirt on a coffin locks his body into paralysis.

When Johnny calls to check in Simon’s teeth are chattering uncontrollably from the chills that wrack his body. He manages to get through the call by grunting and humming when necessary. Johnny takes it as Simon still being upset about the forced medical leave.

‘No good to anyone wit’ yer hand like that LT.’ MacTavish says with sympathy. Simon is silent on the other end of the line.

No good to anyone without a gun in his hand because a dog that can’t be sicced, is not a dog.

He hangs up the phone when Johnny jokes that he thought Simon was invincible, an immortal surpassing the fragility of man.

“Fuck.”

Simon's eyes meet the business card in the mirror as he wipes sick from his mouth. It takes him more than once for his fingers to unclench at his will. The indents from his nails sting as blood rushes back to the digits. He stares at the card for too long before he brushes past the string of texts from Johnny and dials your number.

One ring, two and a third. He hangs up when the call connects. You’re calling back seconds later, he lets it go to voicemail. He’s watching his own eyes dilate in the mirror when you call again.

This time he picks up.

You’re silent and he listens to your breathing. There's a shuffle and he thinks he can make out the sounds of sheets shifting.

“Um? Hi… is this the guy from the pub?”

Simon grunts. “Don't give out your number a lot?”

You laugh despite his flat tone. “Nah, I don’t have anyone who calls me. Just my mum and dad really.” You’re hesitant, he can feel it through the phone like a tangible thing.

“Wasn’ gonna call.”

This makes you laugh again, he realizes you laugh a lot at things that weren’t funny.

“I figured you weren’t after the first week. I’m glad you did though, I still meant what I said.”

There's another lapse in silence before you must realize he won’t assist in driving the conversation.

“Listen, let me show you what I’m working on okay? I’m going to send you an address to a coffee shop and you can show up when you want. I won’t hound you if you don’t.”

“Didn’t give me a time.”

“Oh Yeah! I dog walk in the mornings before the shop opens. I’m there pretty much everyday stealing the free wifi and working on my manuscript, so you can show up anytime and I’ll probably be there.” You laugh again in self deprecation.

His fingers twitch around the phone. Simon thinks you’re too free with your joy. There's a part of him that wants to pluck the mirth from your throat and pocket it inside his own chest for warmth.

He doesn’t promise you anything but you still thank him profusely when he gruffly tells you he’s hanging up.

Your soft good night rings inside his ears for the rest of the evening, it’s louder than the endless quiet or the memories of being buried alive. In the morning when he wakes he squints at the bright light of his phone, clicking on the text thread of your unsaved number. An address and a reminder of your name followed by a smiling emoji.

You’re the fourth contact he saves to his phone.

He shows up after two days. He’d looked at your text for the umpteenth time and pocketed his keys into his jacket, commuting to the building on autopilot. It’s more of an outdoor food court that serves coffee than the coffee shop you described. Simon makes eye contact with you from the entrance of the outdoor patio. Your smile is dampened like you're afraid of scaring him off with your excitement. He’s nearly to the bench you sit on when you suddenly shoot up and throw your hands out to stop him.

“Wait!”

He stops in his tracks. The space in his mind where Ghost exists takes over him like a thick fog as he searches for a threat. His good hand spasms against the fabric of his jeans-covered thigh.

You must realize your error because you grimace.

“I’m so sorry I have a client's dog with me. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t scared or allergic before you saw him.”

Simon is taken aback. His knee jerk instinct is to lash out, ask you if you were an idiot or something else needlessly vitriolic, but he can’t bring himself to with the genuine worry you emote.

The fact that you were concerned enough to check in is an oddity. He’s unfamiliar with being on the other side of care from a woman that wasn’t related to him by marriage or water of the womb. It guts him how easily he wants to lean into it, desperate for the small connection not severed by death.

“Not ‘fraid of dogs,” He rolls his shoulders back, eyes taking in everything but your smile. “I don’ drink coffee either.”

That makes you laugh loudly, you smack a hand over your mouth to cover the giggles that escape. Simon stares down the flickering dance of your irises. You’re unbothered by his leering and instead offer him another grin.

“O-kay! Just let me introduce you to him and I’ll grab you whatever you want okay?” You’re moving before he can say anything.

Despite his objection to being afraid, he still braces himself to be met with a four legged behemoth. The long forgotten dog bite on his right calf sings with phantom pain like he’d received it yesterday and not twenty years ago. His father had let his drunken friends dangle Simon in front of his illegal Japanese Tosa. An eight year old Simon had kicked out in fear and had been mauled by the dog in return. Simon’s mother had sobbed inconsolably at the sight of the deep wounds.

You turn around after a moment of shuffling and he can’t help but to blurt, “Wot the steaming hell is that?”

You’re pouting and holding your free hand over the ear of the pint sized rodent trembling in your embrace. The small elderly chihuahua looked ready to leap from your arms in pursuit of the sweet relief of death.

“This is Sprinkles, he’s my neighbor's dog! Mr. Allens is in the hospital for a bit so I’ll just be taking care of Sprinkles for a few days in the meantime. Do you wanna say hello?”

He grunts, giving you a side eye as you inch closer, “Rather not.”

You huff turning to the mangy mutt with a sad smile. “It’s okay, he just doesn’t understand you like I do.” You tell Simon to sit down while you grab some tea. He’s thankful that you bring Sprinkles with you, uncomfortable with the imagery of the dog meeting its much needed end on his watch.

When you return you hand him his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and launch into your pitch. Simon makes no plans to drink the beverage instead tapping the digits not in the cast on the paper cup. Sprinkles sits in your lap trembling in his tiny sweater.

Fockin’ hell.

Simon interrupts you mid sentence.

“You want me to pose for a bloody romance?”

You blink “Yep, that is what I’m writing so essentially that's the idea.”

Simon cuts you a look not liking the sass but you return it with a cheeky grin. “I know it's unconventional but when I saw you in the pub I couldn’t help but think you looked like a character of mine. I had to see if you’d be willing to model for me.”

“‘Haven’t even seen my face.” He huffs in disbelief.

Cocking your head you look at him in consideration, taking in the black balaclava and stroking Sprinkles as you do. “Yeah, I figured you were sensitive about it since you’re covered from head to toe. Technically you wouldn’t need to take anything off. I was more so interested in capturing your overall aura.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a while. Just watches you with narrow eyes. You’re mid sip when he asks you to read the manuscript for himself.

“Ack!”

He’s mildly impressed that you manage not to sputter tea all over the dog. Your eyes burn with tears from the effort to not choke to death. “W-why would you want to read it?!” you’re squeaking with wide eyes.

He gives a half shrug, warmth pattering at his chest. “‘Didn’ hear you say anything about payment so thought I might see what’s the fuss. Got a reputation and all so I can’t just agree to anything.”

The look you give him is unimpressed. “Are you being funny? I can’t really tell and I’d rather you just say no rather than tease me.”

He leans back, raising his arm to rest near you on the top of the bench. You glance at the closeness of his gloved hand but he ignores the pointed look.

“Serious as a heart attack. I wanna read it before I give you an answer.”

There's a moment where he thinks you’ll say no, he’s expecting it, but you set your shoulders back and tip your chin up at him. “Fine. You can read it, I don’t mind whatsoever.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” you pop the ‘p’ in the word. “Absolutely fine with it. I encourage it actually, fair is fair and all.”

He snorts out a dark chuckle. “Right.”

You ask for his email address and Simon gives you an encrypted email containing a string of numbers. You make a joke about him secretly being a spy that he doesn’t laugh at. It doesn’t bother you any, you continue chuckling to yourself as you press send.

Simon watches you pause in hesitation as you gather the half dead dog and your belongings. You’re chewing on your bottom lip in thought stroking Sprinkles whose eyes are half lidded in your arms.

“Wot?” He asks gruffly, startling you.

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I was just wondering… can I sign your cast?”

Simon’s eye twitches.

“Why would you wanna do that?”

At his tone you squint your eyes at him. “Because that’s what friends do?”

Simon wants to say something snarky around the lump in his throat. Condemn you for assuming they were friends after meeting only once prior. The urge fizzles out when you give him a startled expression.

“Has no one ever signed your cast before?”

No.

He’d broken many bones in his life starting from the age of childhood. Tommy had tried to sign his leg cast once when they were teenagers, he’d earned a broken nose from their father before he’d been able to finish scrawling out the second ‘m’ in his name. He’d never been close enough to anyone else to be asked.

In his reverie you’ve rifled through the tote back at your arm, shifting sprinkles on your hip. You procure a sharpie and hold it up like a trophy.

You approach him cautiously waiting for his objection.

When you’re standing toe to toe with his army grade boots you flick your eyes to the cast and his covered face. “So… Can I sign?”

Simon shifts on the bench, neck tensed. After several beats he looks away and lets out a gruff ‘fine.’ You don’t give him a chance to change his mind.

When you’re finished you pop up with a satisfied smile, slipping the cap on to the marker. “There, all done!”

Simon says nothing. He lumbers to a stand that causes you to stumble back. He watches your flickering eyes and the waver of your smile.

“Okayyyy… I have to get this one home now so just let me know when you want to meet?”

You wave enthusiastically at him and walk away. You only get a few feet before you stop and turn around. Simon watched as you take Sprinkles or in hand and wave it as well. “Say bye to Sprinkles!”

He cuts his eyes at you. “I’m not sayin’ goodbye to the bloody dog.”

You pout and shrug, whispering something to the dog as you go. Simon stands in place for several minutes watching you retreat.

Bloody Hell.

At home on his couch he pops open a can of ale with one hand taking a long gulps. Simon opens the email attachment you sent him, momentarily distracted by your blocky letters on his cast and the lopsided smiley face drawn in sharpie. He squints at the pages before him in his lap trying to make sense of what he was reading.

His eyebrows twitch when he reaches fifty pages in and realizes you’d sent him written porn.

“Wot the bloody hell.”

[violetsiren90]

Under the Hunter's Moon

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader (What the Moon Saw universe)

Genre: drabble; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; autumn/harvest vibes, pure unadulterated fluff

Summary: A disappointment turns into something unexpected when Yoongi encounters you outside of your cliffside haven.

Content warnings: PG rating, but ALL my content is off-limits to minors; depictions of underage smoking; allusions to divorce; school bullying; Yoongi being a scaredy cat on rides lol; mentions of eating and food; allusions to a difficult home life; cuties at a carnival 💕; brief feelings of panic; riding in the back if a truck sans safety restraints.

Word Count: ~3200

Author's note: I spent my birthday today at a little pumpkin patch by the sea. I'd been wanting to go since getting the idea for this drabble a few months back. I felt like I got to ring in the next year with them, somehow. I felt them in the salty breeze and I heard them on the crash of the waves. They are so precious to me. ❤️

If no one has told you yet today you are loved and so worthy of it! 🧜‍♀️💜

He had found you sniffling under a sprawling valley oak that had tilted its way over the aged planks and posts of the two-rail fence and stretched out toward the naked expanse of the strawberry field and the last fiery rays of the late-October sun. He and Hoseok had broken away from the pack of boys he hung around with to find a quiet nook for a smoke. When he had seen you look up at him in surprise from where your face had been buried in your drawn-up knees, nose red and cheeks stained with tears, he had shoved a cigarette into Hobi's shirt pocket and sent the freshman packing. Now Yoongi was sitting next to you in silence, his back to the trunk, stealing furtive glances at you between drags. You heaved a sigh and leaned back against the tree, your shoulder brushing his. 

"I'm okay," you murmured, drawing the back of your hand a last time over your eyes, mascara that you rarely wore smudging across your knuckles.

"Yeah?" he asked, his gaze trained over the mulched land that stretched from the tips of his Converse to where the dying light strained out to bathe his soft, porcelain features in a golden sheen. "You here with somebody?"

"I...was...I guess," you muttered despondently. "Don't really know why I ever let myself believe they would want to hang out with me. Should have just stayed home like last year."

You kept your gaze from his, your eyes instead catching the movement of his slender, athletic legs stretching out in front of him and kicking up little clouds of silt that caught here and there as they dissipated over his light-wash skinny jeans.

"What are you doing here, anyway? You hate crowds."

You felt his shoulder shrug against yours.

"It's the Fest," he remarked, "Everybody goes."

Every year on the Friday before Halloween, your high school loaded its coastal-dwelling autumnally-deprived students onto busses for a forty-five minute drive inland and into agricultural territory to attend the massive Fall Fest for which its hosting county was acclaimed. It was the highlight of the semester - more anticipated than the winter formal - and for good reason. Tickets purchased upon entry (and sold in homeroom two weeks in advance) could be traded for carnival rides and games and seasonal attractions, while a little cash could afford attendees delicious treats and festive souvenirs.

You had never really seen what all the fuss was about. But, then again, events of such a nature were infinitely more enjoyable when one had someone with which to share them - a novelty you had never been afforded until a week ago, when Miranda Dallet and another girl from her posse had asked you to sit with them at lunch. When they asked you to attend the Fest with them you had been surprised, a feeling which had given way to one much less pleasantly anticipatory when Miranda had begun asking you about your newly-divorced father's house - the one just a few miles into town from the Fest grounds, and the one he had apparently told Jacqueline Peters' mother had a hot tub and a 50-inch flat screen TV.

When your father had agreed to let the lot of you stay over at his after the big bash, the reaction of your new acquaintances had you feeling the tiniest bit proud, even if you knew you were being used...you had never really had girlfriends before. Their squeals of excitement and insistent vows that you were the best had lit a little candle in your heart you hadn't even realized existed. Its flame had grown brighter over the days that followed as you planned outfits and borrowed lip gloss and let the others style your hair. And then, half an hour ago, it had been snuffed out when your father had called to cancel last minute, and the news had seen Miranda call you a liar and a poser, thereby revoking her friendship, her crew, and the white puffer jacket she had insisted you borrow, to leave you crushed and alone beside a candy-apple cart.

Your heart sank at the prospect of recounting your pathetic tale to Yoongi...but, he never asked. He merely finished his cigarette, tossing the butt into the upturned soil, and then standing and brushing off his jeans, shoved one hand in the pocket of his bomber jacket and extended the other down to you. You took it and let him pull you to your feet. As you swiped away the smudges your tears had made of the supposedly waterproof eye makeup, you felt Yoongi's gaze drift over you. You blinked up at him questioningly.

"You look...different," he offered, shoving his other hand into its corresponding jacket pocket.

You wrapped your arms self-consciously around the bare inches of your midriff. A trip to the local mall with Miranda and company after school the previous day had resulted in the purchase of your current attire: a light-pink spaghetti-strap tank that hugged your torso, ruched sides pulling it well above the studded waistband of your snugly fitting lowrider jeans, accompanied by a pair of hoop earrings larger than you had ever worn and which were nearly as shiny as your lip gloss. Temperatures remaining in the low seventies well into the late days of fall allowed teenage girls across your county to continue their relentless pursuit of getting dress-coded in the name of Brittany Spears. At events like these, however, the chaperoning staff were wise enough to let it be, as such efforts would likely result in wasted funds and totally empty busses. You had decided to take the plunge and wear something rather decidedly out of character.

"Well," you huffed, "I couldn't come the way I usually dress..."

Yoongi's brow creased.

"What's wrong with how you dress?"

"Ah...I don't know...I just wanted to look nice, I guess."

He nodded, eyes on his shoes.

"Do I look...bad?" You asked quietly, smoothing your hands down over the denim of your pants.

Yoongi looked a bit surprised when his eyes flicked up to yours again, and then they softened as he answered.

"No...no, of course not."

You smiled gratefully and his dark eyes went wide like a baby's as he tilted his head down, glancing about as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth and raised a hand to scratch behind his ear. If you hadn't known better, you would have thought he looked a bit shy. Was he shy? Something inside you preened a bit at the thought. Your bashfulness having dissipated, you moved your hands to clasp behind your back. Yoongi cocked a brow, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he stripped of his jacket and held it out to you.

"Looks a little cold though," he remarked, a teasing glimmer in his eyes.

"I'm fine, thank you," you huffed, feeling a bit caught, and crossed your arms in indignation.

He shrugged, still smirking, and tossed the jacket over his shoulder.

"Suit yourself," he remarked, "But it's gonna be a lot chillier when it's dark."

"I'm leaving anyway," you sulked, trudging toward the low fence and clambering over it.

"Why?" Yoongi asked quickly as he followed, nimbly vaulting the wooden structure and coming to land beside you.

"Because I got ditched. I'm not gonna wander around here alone like a loser."

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, and watched him physically swallow the joke that had formulated on his tongue about it being too late for you in that regard. Instead he reached up and poked you on the cheek.

"So don't go alone. Come with me."

You blinked at him. You had never once hung out with him outside the ledge. There had been the occasional brief wave of a hand across a parking lot or small affectionate smile when passing in a hall, but never so much as a word between you when at school. It had been an unspoken mutual agreement, keeping the worlds of your lives and the ledge separate. It kept your shared hiding place a haven from the rest of it all - one that you both desperately needed. So, his proposition caught you off guard and feeling a little uncertain. Yoongi must have realized your quandary, because he draped his jacket gently around your shoulders and gave you that little hopeful raise of his brows you'd have moved mountains for, and before you knew it, he was ambling alongside you as you trotted towards the lights and laughter of the rides.

It was strange and new, being with him like this, and you began to realize that even though you could read his face like the pages of a book and stood gatekeeper to many of the secrets of his gentle, burning heart, you'd never seen the sweet little smile that cotton candy caused to bloom on his lips, or how quickly it could vanish at the prospect of riding the slingshot. This being so, you couldn't help but take him in like some lovely unknown creature as you sat beside him on the Ferriss wheel and watched him glance nervously toward the ground growing further and further below.

"You okay?" you asked in amusement, glancing at his whitened knuckles where they clutched the safety bar across his lap.

He hummed in assent, now peering down over the tips of his shoes. You followed his gaze, leaning forward and consequently causing the little bucket seat to rock as it climbed toward the peak of the structure.

"Yah, yah, yah, yah!" Yoongi hollered, eyes wide as saucers as he yanked you back upright and only succeeded in rocking your seat more violently.

You didn't understand what he said next - he had slipped into Korean - but you were laughing too hard at his terrified and exasperated expression and how he clutched your arm to pay any mind to what he had to say.

The Ferris wheel proved to be the sole ride of the evening, as Yoongi flatly refused to endure another, and you made your way into the stretch of grounds that smelled like cinnamon and grilled meats and sounded with booth attendants enticing festivalgoers to try a hand at winning their wares. You stopped to toss a few coins onto dishes, coming infuriatingly close with your third penny to winning a giant Pikachu plushie.

You then proceeded to toss and toss until you had nearly exhausted your change purse without luck - only pausing when Yoongi appeared at your elbow with a two corndogs, slipping one into your hand. You protested at him spending his money on food you knew, though simple, could not have been cheap. He ignored your indignation, however, leading you back into the bustle and sermonizing over the rigged nature of the coin-toss game.

You looked down with a small plaintive smile at the paper boat encasing the deep-fried fare in your hands. Yoongi, though sharp and driven, wasn't a good student. He had a reputation for slacking off on assignments and cutting classes that won no favors with teachers who would never know that he had been working two jobs under the table since he was thirteen. That without his help his family would likely lose their home. That he had bought his mother nearly every single earthly possession she had. That the dinner you were holding meant a hell of a lot more than just a few bucks for some carnival food.

He was still chatting on in an endearing, self-satisfied drone, eyes half-lidded and head tilted back pedantically, when you suddenly slipped your arm under his, squeezing his bicep affectionately.

"What?" he looked down at you, interrupting his own stream of thought.

You shook your head as you took a bite of your corndog and grinned up at him through full cheeks. He let out a chuckle, taking a bite of his own.

"Were you listening to anything I said?" he grumbled in lighthearted accusation over his own mouthful. 

"Of course not," you hummed, bumping his hip, and causing him to stumble beside you.

He grunted, the corner of his mouth pulling up just ever so slightly. 

"Fright walk!" you crooned, pointing at a structure decked out in campy cobwebs with a lopsided grim reaper standing wobbly attendance at the door.

"Nope," Yoongi shook his head, tugging you suddenly in the opposite direction.

"Chicken!" You whined.

"Korean. Fried." He deadpanned with a straight-lipped smile and you nearly choked on the last of your corndog as you snorted with laughter.

Yoongi grinned down at you. There it was on your pretty lips again, that smile that lit up his world like a beacon in the night. If someone had asked him if it was more important for the sun to rise in the east each day or for that smile to reach your eyes, he would have plunged the very earth into darkness every time, deny it as he might.

"Come on," Yoongi murmured.

Weaving through the booths, stray leaves crunching underfoot, he led you to a long line of festival goers queuing up to pile into the beds of big trucks loaded down snuggly with bales of hay.

You had only been in line a few minutes when you heard their voices behind you. You recognized Miranda's snicker and your stomach twisted into a knot. The brisk breeze suddenly tripping over you from behind carried with it their mirthless laughter, and you froze in place as your body and mind waged a war of priority over delaying your tears and moving your feet.

A victor was never decided.

Your swimming eyes blinked and saw him, his little smile and soft, determined eyes, as he moved in front of you, pulling up the collar of his jacket on either side of your face. He held it there, steady hands, the fabric brushing your hot ears as his eyes locked yours and silently told you to breathe, wordlessly promised it would all be alright. The sights and sounds of the festival faded and all you could hear was the soothing, rhythmic crash of the sea.

"Want to get out of here?" Yoongi asked lowly, after a long moment, gaze still holding your own.

You nodded and he took your hand.

Yoongi borrowed your cell phone to make a call and walked with you down the dirt road that opened into a rural highway from the mouth of the festival grounds. As you walked you told him about the girls. About your father's broken promise. About the not being needed, and not so not being wanted. He let you pour out and sift through your anger and hurt in the company of his gentle and receptive silence.

Half a mile's trek brought you to a tiny gas station, its aged, yellowing sign flickering to life as the sun finally yielded the dim glow of its last strains to the darkness beyond the strawberry fields.

Yoongi bought two cans of cola from a buzzing old vending machine, handing one to you as he sat beside you on the iron bench chained to the side of the building. The stars began to peep out and speckle the sky as the full moon tipped over the eastern horizon to find you, much to its surprise, quite far from your little ledge, though still side by side. It watched you curiously until its flaxen beams were joined by a pair of bobbing headlights as a truck rumbled up off the road.

"Thanks, hyung," Yoongi clapped the driver, a handsome older boy who glanced between the two of you with a sly smile, on the shoulder before gripping the edge of the bed and bracing a foot against the tire to hop into the back of the truck. He turned and held a hand out for you.

"We're riding back there?" You asked skeptically, glancing over the dusty plastic ridges of the bed.

"We never got that hayride," Yoongi said with a shrug, and your heart squeezed in your chest as you grabbed his hand and let him pull you in.

You scootched against the back of the cab, pulling your knees up to your chest. The warmth was quickly dispelling in the darkness, and cool air whipping around your body as it dipped through the bed made you shiver. Your eyes flicked to Yoongi's bare arms.

"Here, thanks for the loan..." you murmured, shrugging the jacket off and holding it toward him.

Before he could refuse to take it, your ride jostled on the unpaved road, tossing you across his lap. His arms caught you, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled you to his chest and over his right leg, fanning the jacket out over your bodies. Your back to his chest and his arms around your waist, he held you, as he had a dozen times before. A dozen times and your heart still fluttered - fluttered and then settled into safety as you settled into him.

An hour or so later, Yoongi reached up to lift you down onto the sidewalk. You didn't notice as your eyes caught his - sweeter and rounder - how his hands lingered a moment too long at your waist. The driver asked if Yoongi wanted a ride back to his place and he declined, thanking him again. The older boy said Yoongi owed him a fishing trip and Yoongi chuckled, waving him off as the truck rolled down the street.

Your house was dark, and Yoongi walked you to the front door, hands stuffed in his pockets. You turned the key in the lock, and then you turned to him.
You took him in as he looked down at you, his pretty, soft features concealing none of his affection. He swallowed, shifting on his feet.

"What?" he asked.

"Thank you," you murmured earnestly.

"For what...?" and he began to scoff gently, but your answer came too quickly and sincerely for him to protest.

"For tonight. For every night," you sighed a little breath full of aching gratitude. "For being my friend."

His lovely dark eyes widened and his lips parted and suddenly you found yourself raising up on your tip toes to press your mouth to his cheek.

You did it before you could stop yourself and you turned before you could look at him, and you slipped into the quiet house, closing the door behind you just a bit too quickly - so that he wouldn't see, so that your eyes wouldn't give you away.

In doing so, you had missed it.

But the yellow hunter's moon gazing fondly down through the dark, wispy clouds had seen.

It had watched you kiss the boy's cheek. It had watched you hurriedly take your leave. And while you sighed wistfully on the other side of the door, it had watched the boy raise his hand to touch his face, walk back down to the street, and quietly lose the battle he had been fighting all night - every night, in fact, since that first on the cliffside. 

It had watched him fall in love with you.

-Fin-

[ahonice]

lucky

part two

luke hughes x fem reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, quinn & jack being rude to reader, angst & fluff

note: somethings might not match up to what truly happened, in games/school year and incorrect depictions of characters, this is a work of fiction. hope you guys enjoy, leave feedback, have a great day, love y’all babes <3

+++

you met luke during freshman orientation at the university of michigan, instantly hitting it off with him. he was your first friend in college, you hung out daily, went out to eat once a week on what he would call “date nights”, so understandably you quickly began catching feelings for luke. 

you truly lucked out, luke had told you two months after you first met that he liked you and shortly after you began dating. your relationship was great, luke was the perfect boyfriend and you liked to think that you were the perfect girlfriend. you hadn’t planned to meet his family so soon, but with homecoming and parents weekend coming up it was going to be hard to avoid. you were nervous, luke was also nervous because he would also be meeting your family.

friday came around and you sat outside with luke waiting for your families to arrive at the restaurant he had picked out for a joint family dinner, deciding it was easier to have everyone meet everyone all at once to hopefully avoid any awkwardness.

“luke, i know you said that your family will love me, but i’m still extremely nervous. if i need a moment at dinner, please just give me that.” you told him, he reached over and squeezed your hand in response. a car came pulling into the parking lot, luke’s head immediately perked up and a smile grew on his face.

“my parents and brothers are here.” he stood, pulling you with him. he noticed the shaky breath you let out. “baby don’t worry, they are going to love you. and in the worst case scenario that my parents aren’t the most fond of you, at least my brothers will like you, that is for sure.”

+++

ellen and jim loved you, they spoke to you all night. getting to know you, getting to know your family, and even went as far as to invite you over to their lake house this summer. you hadn’t had much time to talk to quinn and jack though, you had greeted them and introduced yourself but they never made an attempt at a conversation with you. although it did hurt a little, you decided to not make it a big deal, they’re probably tired and weren’t in the mood for the dinner party.

once ten o’clock rolled around our parents decided it was time for them to head back to their hotels, you hugged ellen and jim goodbye and waved to quinn and jack with a smile on your face, only to be ignored by your boyfriend’s big brothers. your smile fell, but you quickly picked it back up to say goodbye to your parents and siblings. 

“see babe, i told you they would love you.” luke said, bringing you into a hug once both families were in their cars. “i can tell my mom really, really likes you. she never invites people over to the lake house unless she has known them for a while.” you blushed at his words.

“well my parents really liked you too, my dad gave me a thumbs up like three times tonight.” luke laughed at what you had deemed as approval from your father. “hey, a thumbs up from a grumpy middle aged man is a big deal, and you got three of them.” 

+++

as time went on you and luke’s relationship only grew stronger. it was now winter break and you were making the three hour drive to luke’s family's house to have your gift exchange with luke, as well as the rest of his family because you had gotten gifts for all of them. you had made the boys a tie and a matching pocket square, and you made ellen a few hand towels embroidered with their last name and flowers, as well as a matching apron. luke had told you multiple times that it wasn’t necessary for you to make them gifts, but you insisted.

arriving at the hughes house you grabbed the gifts out of your backseat and made your way to the house. before you were able to ring the doorbell the front door swung open, quinn and jack looked at you and ignored your greetings. they just walked around you and towards what you assumed was one of their cars. ellen saw you before the door shut and quickly got up to greet me. 

“hi sweetie, it is great to see you. come on in, i’ll yell for luke.” she said helping you with some of the gifts and setting them down by the tree. “this many gifts for luke? he is spoiled.” she joked, causing a blush to rise to your cheeks. 

“oh well, i actually brought gifts for all of you.” ellen smiled and brought me into a hug. 

“luke is very lucky to have you.”

+++

quinn and jack didn’t come back home that night, leaving luke to insist that they could just open their gifts on their own time because luke very badly wanted to see what you had gotten him.

jim loved his gifts, promising to wear the matching set at his next formal event. ellen loved her gifts as well, immediately replacing the hand towels in the kitchen with the ones you had made. she also thanked you profusely for the apron, shocked you had remembered her complaints about the one she had before. 

“these are amazing y/n, you really have a gift.” jim told you before they left to give you and luke some privacy for your gift exchange.

“thank you mr.hughes.”

“call me jim dear.” he informed you, ellen quickly jumping in to say that she wasn’t mrs.hughes either.

+++

jim had kept his promise, and made luke send a photo of him wearing the tie and pocket square you had made him.

from: luke <3

*image*

my dad is wearing your gift tonight, he has already gotten compliments and questions on where he got them. 

from: luke <3

he keeps joking that he is gonna need some of your business cards, maybe you should start selling these.

to: luke <3

i’m very happy he likes his gift, and maybe…

to: luke <3

did your brothers open their gifts? did they like them?

from: luke <3

they’re still sitting in the living room sorry babe, they probably just forgot about them. i’ll remind them later tonight. 

+++

the next time you saw the hughes family was during the big ten championship. you had gone to support luke, sitting with his family and wearing the michigan hockey pullover you had, you didn’t expect anyone to notice the personalization you had added to it.

“y/n that jacket is amazing, did you make it?’ ellen asked you, gently touching the sleeves and seeing the “LH43” embroidered on the wrists. “boys look at this.” ellen got her older sons’ attention, pointing towards what you were wearing. they muttered a sarcastic “yeah it’s cool” and “looks great” never taking their eyes off their phones, you tried not to look too upset. 

“i got the jacket from the thrift store, but i added the details on the sleeves.” you told ellen, and now jim who had come back from the concession stand. 

“luke told me you liked pretzels, so here.” he said, handing you your favorite snack as you thanked him.

+++

the boys won the game, making them the conference champions. you continued to sit in the stands, watching the celebration and trophy ceremony, while the hughes family made their way towards the locker rooms to congratulate luke and the rest of the team. you had your phone out taking pictures and videos of the team, posting a few to your instagram. you and luke weren’t a secret, but you weren’t public, you only ever posted images to your private instagram account with about thirty followers, all those who you trusted.

you weren’t aware that luke’s brothers had come back, per their mother’s orders, to bring you back to the locker rooms. they saw you posting a few photos, captioning it “my baby is a conference champ baby” with a couple emojis that you and luke always sent to each other. scoffing jack quickly got your attention, “when you’re done using luke for attention my family is waiting for you.” and then he turned around, quinn quickly following after. your face fell, tears began welling in your eyes. you always had the idea that luke’s brothers weren’t your biggest fans, but that just confirmed it. they thought you were using luke, for what? you didn’t know. you took a moment to collect yourself, checking your reflection in your phone's camera and taking a couple deep breaths before getting up and trying to find the locker rooms, quinn and jack had failed to inform you where they actually were, but you eventually made your way there.

by the time you got there luke was already out, hugging his family and celebrating with them. the sadness that had taken over your mood immediately disappeared when luke saw you. he came up running to you, engulfing you in a big hug, picking you up off the ground and spinning you around causing you both to laugh. when luke set you down you noticed ellen filming you two, but luke got your attention again by giving you a kiss. you patted his cheeks lightly, breaking the kiss, so ellen could take a proper photo of the two of you. after a few more moments luke retreated back to the locker room to celebrate with the team, ellen sent you the photos and videos she took of you two and you sent some photos you had taken of luke during the game, as well as the video you took of ellen and jim celebrating the win. you said your goodbyes to the hughes, telling them that you hoped you would see them soon and that you were heading back to your dorm room. ellen stopped you, inviting you out to the dinner they were having with luke once he was all clear to leave the arena, but you turned them down, politely saying they should have a nice family dinner just them, but you appreciated the offer. you began walking out again, but you weren’t completely out of earshot, being able to hear quinn say “family dinners are for family only, not temporaries.” which brought back those tears you pushed down just fifteen minutes earlier, this time you allowed them to fall from your eyes as you stepped into your car.

+++

you didn’t see the hughes again until summer break came around, you would be spending a week at their lake house and you couldn’t be more excited. after a five hour drive you arrived, sending luke a text that you made it before getting your luggage out of the trunk. it had been almost two months since you last saw luke, after you had finished off the school year you immediately left for florida where you spent a month staying with your cousins in your families beach house and then after that you were in mexico with some friends, it was a relaxing, yet stressful, summer for you so far and you could only hope that your time at the lake house would be relaxing and relaxing only.

once you had settled into the guest room, much to luke’s dismay his parents wouldn't let us room together, and changed into a swimsuit you met luke in the backyard where he was gonna take you out on the boat.

“where are your brothers?” you hadn’t seen them yet, and you hoped you wouldn't. 

“they’re on vacation right now, they will be back in three days though. why?” luke asked, starting the boat's engine once you both were situated.

“just wondering, i hadn’t seen them yet.” you were grateful that you could at least get three days without worrying about what they would say next. you hoped that the relief wasn’t apparent in your voice when you explained your question to your boyfriend, the last thing you needed was luke finding out about what had been going on.

+++ 

your first day at the lake house was amazing, the boat ride went great and it was beautiful outside, you swear you took over one hundred photos of just the views during your trip around the lake. jim and ellen arrived back at the house before dinner, you helped ellen out with dinner, updating her on everything that had gone on in your life since you last saw her.

“wow lots of vacationing on your part, have you been having fun?” she asked while walking into the kitchen in the apron you made her, you smiled before answering.

“it has been a lot of fun, i can never complain about being able to break out my swimsuit collection.” you joked, ellen laughed at your answer before telling you that luke could never complain either.

“we’ve been teasing him all summer, he is constantly stalking your social media to see any new pictures or videos of you.” you blushed at her words, knowing that the only thing you’ve been wearing in your posts lately have been swimsuits. 

+++

once everyone had retreated to their own rooms for the night, and luke successfully snuck into yours, you began watching a movie with him. it was silent, the only noise being made was coming from the television, you would've thought luke was asleep if it wasn’t for him tracing patterns on the exposed skin on your back.

“are you getting along with my brothers?” luke’s question took you by surprise, but you should’ve seen it coming. it was pretty obvious that you never spoke to them, never made an attempt to become close with them like you had his parents, and now you’re becoming aware that the relief you felt knowing that quinn and jack wouldn’t be in town for a couple days was noticed by luke.

“yeah, we aren’t close or anything, but there isn’t any bad blood.” it was a half truth, you definitely weren't close with them considering that you had spoken to them a handful of times and each time went worse than the one before. you were sure they hated you, and while you didn’t hate them you did resent them for it, because who were they to judge you and your relationship without even attempting to get to know you.

luke just nodded, he could sense in your voice and the way you had shifted away from him that you didn’t want to talk to him about it.

“luke, i’m getting tired, you should probably head back to your room so your parents dont find out we’re hanging out in each other's rooms.” while luke understood that you had an actual reason for asking him to leave, he couldn’t help but feel that his question about your relationship with his brothers ultimately caused you to kick him out of your room.

+++

the next two days were amazing, you surprised luke with matching swimsuits you made for the both of you, both your initials embroidered with a heart were on his trunks and your bikini. ellen loved them, taking pictures of them on you two as well as just them before you had put them on, zooming in on the embroidery specifically in one picture before posting the set of images on her instagram. 

“babe you seriously have a gift, i’m letting all my friends know that if they need gifts for their girlfriends to come to you. i’ll upcharge them, don’t worry.” luke said, after fully examining your craftsmanship. you laughed and asked if he would make you share your profits. 

“of course i would, don’t tell my mom this but i’m only with you for the money.” he joked and you let out a fake laugh. you know he meant no harm, he had no clue the conversations his brothers had been having behind his back, the ones where they accuse you of using him for his fame or future wealth as an NHL player. 

“let’s get outside, i wanna tan.” you changed the subject, pulling luke’s arm to follow you.

“yeah let’s get outside–” luke pulled you against him, your back to his chest, “i wanna watch you tan.” you giggled before pushing him away from you and telling him to not get any ideas.

+++

the next morning you woke up to the sounds of luke and his brothers messing around with each other, you smiled at luke’s loud laughter. you noticed that you had slept in much later than you usually did, but you didn’t mind. you got dressed into a swimsuit and put shorts on to cover your lower half, leaving the top of your one piece exposed and quickly did some makeup and tied your hair into a messy bun before walking downstairs. you weren’t aware of the plans for today but you did know the boys were probably getting antsy waiting for you.

you entered the living room, gaining quinn’s attention first, the only brother who’s back wasn’t turned towards her. he nodded his head in your direction, making the two younger hughes face you. luke quickly came up to wrap his arms around you, but the joy on his face from seeing you wasn’t enough to distract you from the distaste of his brothers’. 

“i’m thinking today we four go onto the boat, i can teach you how to wakesurf. it’ll be a lot of fun, and you need the lessons. jack’s old teammates and friends are gonna be here in a couple days and they all love wakesurfing.” luke continued to ramble on about god knows what as he led you out towards the docks, his brothers having volunteered to grab the booze. you kept your eyes on him the whole time, you loved when he would talk about something and you could see the excitement and passion on his face. ellen saw the two of you, smiling at how enamored you looked. she took a quick photo of it and pointed the two of you out to quinn and jack who had just gotten back from packing the cooler.

“aren’t they adorable?” ellen gushed, happy to see her youngest son in such a healthy and happy relationship.

“yeah, they’re something.” quinn said, before quickly pulling the cooler back outside, leaving jack in the kitchen with his mom.

“they are pretty cute.” jack smiled. he began thinking that maybe you weren’t what he and quinn had assumed you were a couple weeks ago, after seeing how much you had meant to luke first hand.

+++

your day spent on the boat with the three hughes sons was an eventful one. you never actually went wake surfing, just settling to watching the boys do it and getting an understanding of it if you ever did want to learn. when luke’s turn was up jack took over the duty of running the boat and quinn took a spot next to me. you smiled at him, hoping that this would be a good chance to actually get to know quinn as this would be the first time the two of you had actually talked ever.

“my mom showed me those photos of you and luke, in the matching swimsuits. they’re cute.” you smiled at the compliment, but that was quickly wiped from your face by his next statement. “i know what you’re doing by the way.” you looked up at quinn confused, because you weren’t doing anything. “i know that you’re using luke. that you're gonna stay with him until you’ve been together long enough to trap him. with marriage or a baby or something else, and then you’re gonna use him for his fame and his wealth.” your jaw dropped at quinn’s harsh accusations. you didn’t know what soap opera he had been watching lately but it was obviously clouding his judgment. you swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked the tears out of your eyes after quinn walked away. but you didn’t let yourself dwell on the rudeness of your boyfriend’s brother's words, your lovely boyfriend was now in front of you and provided a great distraction from what just happened.  

+++

you spent some time swimming in the water when quinn stop the boat to eat lunch, luke joined you and brought his phone out, even though you told him multiple times that he was gonna drop it and to just leave it on the boat, and began taking pictures of you, and you and him together, you took a couple of just him as well.

“you should post those.” luke told you once you both were on the boat and looking through the photos that were taken.

“i always do.” you looked at him confused, you posted on your private account multiple times a day, it was your photo dump page.

“no i mean your main, i think these are really nice photos.” he smiled at you, blushing. you knew there was more to it though so you gave him a look. “-and maybe if you posted pictures with me and they knew you had a boyfriend all those guys wouldn’t be hitting on you in your comments and dms.” you smiled at his confession, he was jealous and wanted others to know that you were his, as well as him being yours.

“that is adorable luke, you’re possessive over me awww” the blush on his cheeks only spread and grew a deeper hue. you looked up to see jack smiling at you, the shock on your face came and went quickly before you gave jack a smile back before turning your attention back to your boyfriend who was now clinging onto you. you quickly snapped a selfie of you two, you smiling and luke looking at you with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“here i’ll post that to my story, and then i will post a huge collage of photos from this week when i leave.” luke agreed to your compromise. moments later you heard the sound of would i lie to you by charles & eddie, that was your guys’ song and it was attached to your story post. you smiled as you heard the fifteen second clip of the song play over and over again.

“jeez luke how many times are you gonna view her story.” jack chirped from the other side of the boat, causing you to laugh and luke to groan into your shoulder. you looked up to see jack smiling, but quinn was looking at you guys with an annoyed look on his face, he rolled his eyes when you made eye contact with him, doing quite some damage to your good mood as that reminded you of the conversation you had with him earlier, luke could sense the shift in your energy.

“you okay?” he whispered in your ear. you nodded, blaming it on being tired suddenly. 

+++

once you were back on dry land you went inside to shower and change, shortly after doing that you entered the kitchen and asked if ellen needed any help with dinner.

“do you think you could go into the basement and find my garlic mincer? i think i forgot to unpack it.” you quickly nodded and made your way to the lowest level of the house. 

once down there you turned on the light and began searching through boxes labeled “kitchen”. after finding what you were looking for you turned to go back to the kitchen when two boxes caught your eye. two boxes addressed for quinn and jack, wrapped in your families christmas wrapping paper. they never opened their gifts. you began to tear up, that was the final nail in the coffin that you needed to know that what you were feeling wasn’t an overreaction, they hated you. you quickly grabbed the boxes and hurried up the steps, placing the item you had gone into the basement for down onto the island in the kitchen before telling ellen, who’s back was towards you so she didn’t see your distraught state, that you were going to head upstairs because your mom was calling.

once in your room you shut and locked the door and let the tears that had been welling up fall. the sound of your bedroom door shutting and locking was enough to catch the attention of luke, but once he was at the door to your room and about to knock he heard your sobs. panic immediately rushed through him and he reached above the door frame to find where the key had been sitting. once he got the door unlocked he knocked as he was making his way into the door, his heart breaking at the sight.

you were curled up on the floor crying while holding onto two boxes, luke timidly stepped towards you.

“baby what’s wrong?” he asked, crouching down to your level. 

you didn’t answer at first, you just shoved the two wrapped up boxes that were now covered in dust onto his lap. luke was confused for a second before he realized what he was holding.

“they never opened them.” you said sadly, your tone making luke even more upset. “your brothers hate me luke, and i don’t know why. i don’t know what i did to them.” you began crying even harder, wrapping your arms around luke’s shoulder, he shifted and pulled you fully into his lap.

“what do you mean they hate you? they don’t hate you.” he said, attempting to comfort you but it didn’t work.

“they accused me of using you luke.” you finally told your boyfriend. the weight was now lifted off of your chest, until it quickly wasn’t. you didn’t want to tell luke for a reason and this was it. 

luke pushed you off of him and stood up, immediately making his was towards the hallway.

“luke stop, please, it’s not a big deal.” you tried to calm the situation, you didn’t want to be the cause of a fight between the brothers.

“it is a big deal y/n. i cannot let them say that shit about you, i will not allow it.” he stated before taking a deep breath. “what else have they said to you?” 

“luke–”

“i’m serious y/n, what else have they been saying or doing? i know there is more to it.”

you sighed before explaining everything to him. how quinn and jack have always dismissed your greetings, how they refused to talk to you, and how you would catch them glaring at you on multiple occasions. luke was visibly upset, his knuckles were turning white and his face was getting red. but despite his angry state he could still tell there was more to it, even if he hoped that was it.

“y/n.” just him saying your name was enough to make you cry some more and tell him the rest of the story. about when quinn said you were a temporary, the other name callings, and the one that happened just a few hours earlier. 

“quinn accused me of planning on baby trapping you, or forcing you to marry you so i could have access to your wealth and fame.” and that was it. it was enough to make luke jump up and basically run out of your room, you were hot on his trail. luke ignored his mother’s calls to see what was wrong, as did you, you needed to stop luke before something bad happened. 

luke picked up his pace once he was on the docks, effectively making you lose the lead you almost had on him. he ran up and punched quinn in the face and then jack as well. you gasped and halted your movements as luke began yelling.

“you fucking assholes, you never once try to get to know my girlfriend, never even do so much as acknowledge her, and you have the audacity to accuse her of using me, of planning on trapping me in our relationship, calling her names, dismissing her attempts to get to know you, throwing the gifts she spent hours making you two into a trash bag and hiding them in the basement.” 

tears had begun rolling down your face, somehow harder than before. ellen placed a hand on your back, to let you know she was there before she pulled you into a hug. whispering that she had no idea that this was going on and that she was so sorry. 

jack was quick to defend himself, saying that quinn was the one doing most of the name calling and accusations, which was true but he still participated in it. 

“i’m just looking out for you luke. we don’t know this girl or her intentions with you.” quinn said, defending himself as he slowly walked towards his youngest brother.

luke scoffed, “you would know her if you spoke to her, she has given you plenty of chances to get to know her and to find out what her intentions were.” he paused to look over at you, he began tearing up at the sight of you crying in his mom’s arms. “do you think i’m stupid? if i thought a girl was using me i wouldn’t be with her, y/n is good for me, and i don’t care what you guys think of her. she is the love of my life, nothing you guys do or say will change that.” 

the revelation causes you to stand up straight and unwrap yourself from ellen’s arms. luke just said he loved you, that you were the love of his life. more tears began falling but these weren’t sad tears, they were happy tears. 

luke gave his brothers one more disappointed look before turning around and walking towards you. once he was close enough you wrapped him in a hug, he began crying and apologizing for his brother's behavior.

ellen spoke up after a while, “why don’t you two go for a drive, get some dinner in town. i’ll talk to the boys.” luke quickly nodded and let go of you, grabbing your hand and pulling you inside so he could grab his keys. 

+++

you spent a lot of time parked at the public beach. you ate your burgers, watched the sunset, talked about what you were feeling about what had happened earlier and what had happened during the time that Luke was unaware of what was going on, as well as taking a cute photo of the two of you, cried out and faces red and puffy, and laying in the trunk of his car cuddled up. 

“i’m sorry i never noticed what was going on.” luke broke the minutes of silence you were having.

“it’s not your fault luke.” you said, shifting so you were able to look at him. “i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

luke just shook his head at your apology, he soon closed the distance between you two and kissed you. 

“i love you luke.”

“i love you too y/n. i’m lucky to have met you.”

“oh i’m definitely the lucky one.”

+++

note: THERE IS A PART TWO YAY ok so i really like this one, i hate picking out names for fics though and lucky was the only thing that somewhat made sense because i used the word so many times...anyways hope y’all enjoyed this because i actually like this and that is a rare thing for me.

[littlejuicebox]

Midnight Chimes 3 / Luck

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader Warlock.

Word Count: 1,910

Summary/Setting: You and Astarion have met before, though you think it meant more to you than it did to him. You are an apothecary shop owner that has recently gained some mysterious Warlock powers; Astarion is, in your eyes, a rake that you wouldn’t trust as far as you can throw him. You two run into one another again after the nautiloid crash.

Preview:

The vampire couldn’t remember anything about you, at first. It was as if the parasite had unlocked the recollection, delving into some subconscious vault of memories Astarion could not access himself. He hadn’t remembered you, prior to the parasite’s assistance, but had held onto pieces of information he'd learned from the conversation. The prickled texture of the grass underneath his palm distracts Astarion as he vaguely listens to his two human traveling companions discuss healing potions – you needed to find a cauldron and distillery set to start concocting things for the journey ahead.  As his two campmates chat, Astarion has more flashes from the conversation he'd had with you in the Drunken Dragon. Everything about that night returns to him in a hazy film, almost like recalling bits of a dream.

Warnings: eventual smut and gore 18+ / in game spoilers / angst, trauma, fluff / GUYS THIS CHAPTER HAS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE AND S-CIDE IDEATION DO NOT READ IF IT'S TRIGGERING TO YOU OR YOU ARE NOT IN THE RIGHT HEADSPACE

Notes: This chapter was hard for me to write; I teared up and had to take a break for a few days because I am quite sensitive. If you are sensitive like me, please proceed with caution.

“You are late, Astarion.”

“Master, I’m sorry, I—“

“I do not have time, nor patience for your excuses, boy!” Cazador hisses, snatching the younger vampire up by his flounced collar.

Astarion hears the fabric of his shirt tear as his master shakes him repeatedly. Cazador is shouting; from this proximity, Astarion can smell the rotten blood on his breath. The Vampire Lord is berating him ferociously, causing sprays of putrid spittle to hit the spawn’s face with every word.

But Astarion isn’t there anymore. He’s retreated into the confines of his own mind. He’s replaying the conversation he’d had with you, before the bell tower chimed midnight and he’d fled from the Drunken Dragon.

“DO YOU HEAR ME, BOY?!” Cazador is roaring now, lifting Astarion up to the tips of his toes with unhinged fury. The gap in the spawn’s shirt rips open further. 

He’s a ragdoll in his master’s grip, flopping about almost lifelessly with deadened eyes and a blank visage. The pale elf learned long ago that expending his energy fighting, begging, or crying always lead to the same result. It was useless.

So why bother with it at all? It was easier to retreat within himself, hide, and hope he wouldn’t remember most of his encounters with Cazador, in the end.

The lack of response from Astarion enrages Cazador further, and in one swift motion he hurls the silver-haired elf onto the floor. The younger vampire lands with a resounding crack of bone – something inside the elf, apart from his spirit, has broken. Astarion would wince or cry, if he’d noticed it at all.

The vial and business card combination from earlier this evening tumbled out of the pale elf’s pocket during the commotion. Cazador snatches the small token up immediately; nothing that came home with the spawn had ever been allowed to stay with them.

Everything they found while outside of the palace became his; Cazador claimed this was his right as their master. The spawn did not even have rights to the clothes on their back. Astarion’s shirt had been torn by his master, restitched by his own hands, and then torn yet again more times than he could be bothered to count.

The Vampire Lord doesn’t bother to read the card; he simply crushes the vial in his hand and throws the resulting shards of glass at Astarion. The card is thrown into the flames of the fireplace without a thought.

Cazador is bellowing insults again, but the silver-haired elf barely acknowledges the venom spewing from the Vampire Lord’s mouth. He’s focusing on the perfumed residue that’s been scattered across his face along with tiny shards of glass, which have now embedded themselves in his cheeks and forehead.

The fragrance is positively ambrosial, and Astarion just now realizes that you had been wearing this very scent in the tavern. It was what had caught his attention in the first place. The smell proved to be an almost irresistible combination; he’d never smelt anything else quite like it.

The spawn thinks his face is bleeding, and glass might have gotten in his eye. Every time he blinks, there is a sharp, grating feeling, and so eventually he stops blinking altogether. He doesn’t need to, anyway. Instead, his visage turns into a thousand-yard stare.

Bergamot, rosemary… and what else? Astarion can’t place it.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Cut. Slice. Stab. Whip. Blood. Bile. Scream.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Cut. Slice. Stab. Whip. Blood. Bile. Scream.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Astarion jerks awake, shocked by the sharp, resounding clang of metal upon metal. He’s shirtless, it’s freezing. The pale elf soon realizes he’s in the kennels, lying on the cold, damp cobblestone. The rough, slimy rock is poking into his torn back at all angles. Rats chitter about in the walls, causing his skin to crawl in revulsion. 

He hates those disgusting vermin.

It was always cold and wet down here in the kennels. The stone would often sweat from humidity. As it did, it released the rotten scent caused by hundreds of years of torture performed on all Cazador’s spawn.

Piss, shit, bile, and blood.

A disgusting bouquet of misery. 

The kennels always reeked of vile filth, but the silver-haired elf swore he’d caught a whiff of something simultaneously citrusy and earthy, accompanied by the tinkling sound of a woman’s laughter just before he woke.

Bergamot and rosemary? 

But there’s no one else here. Just Astarion and the skeletal form of Godey, currently preoccupied with clanking metal and grumbling to himself.

By the time the vampire spawn fully returns his consciousness to his mind and body, he’s too late to avoid the rough metal chain swinging to smack his head. Astarion grunts at the impact and instinctively clutches his face with his now-freed hand. So that was the metal clanging… Godey was releasing him from his chains today.

His throat is absolutely raw. His mouth is dry. Every swallow sends sharp, stabbing pains through his nerves. 

Had he been screaming?

He can tell he is starving, but that isn’t exactly new… that particular ache was always present.

Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? Astarion couldn’t be sure. There are hundreds of slashes of varying sizes and depths across his body; he reeks of blood, bile, and dried sweat. What he can see of his arms, in the parts not entirely caked in grime and congealed blood, looks to be a strange blend of purple and green. 

“Are you dumb and deaf, spawn?! Out with you, boy!” Godey shrieks, ripping open the cell door and flailing the chain threateningly, “Lord Cazador says you are to get ready for the Greengrass Gala! All spawn are to attend!”

Greengrass? Hadn’t it been a few weeks past Midwinter when he was thrown down here?

He’d been left there and sliced to ribbons by Godey for months.

Why had he been locked in the kennels in the first place? He couldn’t remember. All he could remember was the smell of bergamot and rosemary and blurred bits of conversation in a tavern. He could almost recall that scent combination now. 

Had he been trancing or sleeping? Was that a memory or a dream?

Godey is shouting, rushing Astarion out of the kennel with another haphazardly placed whip of metal, singeing the spawn’s already shredded back. He’s sent to see Dalyria for mending; she begs him to just behave himself next time.

But what had he done, besides nothing at all?

Astarion enters the dormitory to prepare for the Gala. By the looks of his forearms, Dalyria has already done all the hard work. His bruises and cuts are almost gone, and he is certain the rest will disappear prior to the party.

He thinks it’s strange how he can be torn to shreds and restored a thousand times over; an unwilling phoenix risen from the ashes. How much easier it would be to simply crumble and fall with one step into the sun or one vial of positoxin. 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

If only he could be that lucky.

But luck hadn’t been in his favor for over two hundred years, and he was certain it would never be on his side again. He’d prayed to Tymora, the goddess of luck, and every other god and goddess he could remember while locked in that tomb all those years ago. He’d promised to pledge his undead life to their service, if only one of the beings would answer him. Tymora had ignored him then, like all the others.

They were surely ignoring him now.

Astarion doesn’t know why, but he bathes himself in a combination of bergamot and rosemary oils while he prepares for the Greengrass Gala. He doesn’t know why, but something about the smell tricks him into feeling comfort… if only for a moment.

-----

After 200 years of misery, the tides of luck may have finally turned for the vampire.

Astarion is basking in the warmth of a campfire, out in the wilds, breathing in the freshness of the countryside.

It’s the first night in camp. Every sensation out here is new. The breeze dances across his skin, causing the curls around his ears to tickle the sensitive flesh around his pinna. He shudders at the sensation and shifts closer to the fire. Warmth is almost entirely foreign to him; all he truly knows is cold kennels and the iciness of his own skin.

He doesn’t remember if he’s been outside of Baldur’s Gate before; he can’t recall a single moment prior to Cazador. Astarion's undead existence had been filled with the scents of decay and despair, found all over the city and especially inside the palace.

Until now.

The vampire couldn’t remember anything about you, at first. It was as if the parasite had unlocked the recollection, delving into some subconscious vault of memories Astarion could not access himself. He hadn’t remembered you, prior to the parasite’s assistance, but had held onto pieces of information he'd learned from the conversation.

The prickled texture of the grass underneath his palm distracts Astarion as he vaguely listens to his two human traveling companions discuss healing potions. You needed to find a cauldron and distillery set to start concocting things for the journey ahead. The wizard was wondering where something like that would be found out here in the wilds.

As his two campmates chat, Astarion sees more flashes from the conversation he'd had with you in the Drunken Dragon. Everything about that night returns to him in a hazy film, almost like recalling bits of a dream.

Until today, the pale elf believed the concept of positoxins was something he'd always known somehow. In the same way he knew his own name or understood Elvish. But he'd learned that from you. You were an apothecary. You'd given him a business card. You'd asked him to write, and the business card had a vial attached to it, which contained a sample of…

Shit.

Bergamot and rosemary.

Astarion stiffens, and his head jerks to take in your profile. Inky black hair falling just past narrow shoulders in soft waves; warm, olive skin, and purple irises. He crinkles his brow, thinking the eye color is a bit unusual for a human and trying to recall what you looked like in his memory.

Surely, he would have remembered an attractive human woman with purple eyes, wouldn't he? Had you changed, somehow? Is that why he didn't remember you at all?

Though, he did see a lot of faces. And intentionally chose to forget almost all of them. He didn't want to remember the faces of his victims, didn’t want to know their names, didn’t want to remember the way they screamed in agony after he lured them to their deaths.

You don't notice him staring; in truth, you had practically been ignoring him all this time and only focusing your attention on Gale. 

The fragrance you'd given him had wormed its way so deeply into his subconscious that he’d been borderline obsessed with it. He’d tried his best to recreate the scent with what was offered at the palace, but of course it paled in comparison to the one held within his mind.

You had somehow escaped being his victim. Luck may never have been on his side, but it apparently had been on yours.

Why, then, had he forgotten everything else about that interaction? Forgotten you? 

The pale elf doesn’t understand that his own mind had chosen to hide the memory of that night in the tavern. It was a protective measure, constructed by his own shattered psyche. The memory had to be concealed because it held the subtle sensation of hope. Hope was a dangerous thing for him to have. Misery was familiar. 

Hope would convince him to take risks that he couldn’t afford.

[1000roughdrafts]

hey! if you take requests, i’m just wondering if you’d consider a sister winchester one? maybe her at 18? i love your writing so much, and i’d really love something like a hurt reader/dying reader?? something super angsty ahaha

Oh, for sure! Angst is my favorite! (as I'm sure you can tell by the word count lol) sorry it’s taken me like 3 years to get to this 😞

A/N: this was meant to post 2/28/24 because I wanted to ease into coming back with an every other week posting schedule BUT I’m just too excited and antsy for that lol also it’s set in Season 1, Episode 1

Thank you by the way!

Title: Please Wake Up

Warnings: swearing, graphic description of injury and illness, blood angst, hurt/dying reader, depiction of medical procedures, takes place in season 1 episode 1 :)

Word Count: 5.8k

Being third born after two boys, Y/N always felt like she had big shoes to fill. Despite her best efforts to impress the man, she never really formed a bond with John. Her next role model was Dean, who became more of a father to her than John ever was or could be.

Until her eleventh birthday, Dean did her hair into pigtails every day, partly because he hadn't learned to do any other hairstyle but mostly because he thought it was the cutest on her. He'd pack her and Sam's lunch with snacks he'd bought from vending machines and even pretend to take her on hunts because he knew she wanted to be exactly like him.

When she wasn't learning about monsters and guns with Dean, she spent time with Sam. He'd help her with her homework or play board and card games. They have as much in common as Y/N and Dean. Neither Sam nor Y/N got along with John, and neither remember their mothers. 

Y/N's mother was a woman John met in Nebraska three years after the boy's mom died. The affair only lasted a night, but to his surprise, he heard from her again six months later with the news that they had a baby girl on the way. John was shocked and heartbroken. He couldn't bear the thought of bringing another child into the life of hunting.

John kept his distance, adamant that Y/N would be better off without him, and when another three months of silence went by, he figured that Y/N's mother came around to see it his way. Unfortunately, her pregnancy was complicated, as was the birth, and it turned out that having Y/N is what killed her. 

When John got the call, he had half a mind to let the state take custody of little Y/N. Indeed, they would provide her with a better life than he could. John decided to meet her at least, and when he laid eyes on her perfect little face, he couldn't bring himself to abandon her. 

Y/N was barely sixteen when Sam left for college. While she was proud of him for putting himself first, it broke her heart for him to go the way he did. She missed him more and more every day, often keeping Dean up at night with her sniffling and crying. After a while, he would get into bed next to her when the tears started and sing Hey Jude while playing with her hair to help her fall asleep. That went on for another six months before she finally started to fall asleep without crying. 

For her seventeenth birthday, Dean came across a necklace he'd wanted to get for her since Sam left. From his wallet, he took out the only picture he had of the sibling trio, representing the single moment of their life where John treated them like regular kids, and using his pocket knife, he carved around their heads and bodies to match the exact size of the locket, smiling proudly at himself when it fit perfectly. 

Now at eighteen, she stands next to the Impala while Dean lugs their bags out, drops them into the trunk, and slams it shut. He heads for the driver's door but stops when he realizes Y/N hasn't opened hers yet. Eyebrows raised, he twirls a finger in the air as if to say, 'Let's get a move on.'

"Are you ever gonna teach me how to drive, Dean?" she asks. "I mean, you've got to, you know?" 

"No, I don't. Get in," Dean says. She does so with a huff. Dean checks the mirrors before backing out of their parking spot. Turning to Y/N, he says, "Besides, as long as I'm around, you don't need to," but softens his face into a smile when he looks at her. "Cause there's no way in Hell I'll ever let you drive my car." 

Y/N lets out a soft chuckle. "It doesn't have to be this car, Dean!" She rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze hit her face. "What happens if we get separated and I'm being chased by… I don't know, something that has super speed, and my only way back to you is to steal a car and -" 

"Stop. First of all, you should know that I'd never put you in that kind of danger," Dean says, disgusted by the mere thought. He lets out a long sigh. "I'll teach you," he says, looking at her gleaming smile. He tries his damnedest to see her for the adult she's becoming, but he only sees the happy baby in pull-ups he used to feed marshmallows and jello to on a motel room floor. "Just… not yet, okay?" 

She scoffs, "Most people learn to drive when they're only fifteen. I mean, you took me to freaking Vegas with a fake ID for my birthday, for fuck's sake!" 

"I said not yet, Y/N!" he says, shooting her the 'dad look' he's been perfecting since she was four. 

"Fine," she grumbles. She clasps her hands, "So I was looking through news articles, and there seem to be vamps in the next town. Should we be on that?" 

Dean clears his throat and needlessly adjusts the rear-view mirror. "Actually, kiddo, we're on something else right now." He keeps his head straight but glances at her out of the corner of his eyes. Whispering, he says, "We're gonna go get Sammy." 

Y/N's eyes widen as her head whips to look at him. "What?" 

He keeps his eyes on the road, "yeah, uh, with Dad missing... we could use the help," he says, gripping the steering wheel tighter. 

"But Sam's at college!" Y/N scoffs, "he wanted out!" 

"He abandoned us!" he shouts, shaking his head at himself when he notices her shoulders tense. Her eyes peer into her lap, where her hands lie folded. “Look Y/N/N, I just… I can't shake this awful feeling that something is wrong." He waits for a response from her, but she only nods with thin lips. She tunes him out and focuses on the wind hitting the window. "I gotta make sure they're okay," he says softly. 

Over the years, Y/N has learned to trust Dean's intuition, but right now, it just feels like he's being selfish. She opts to stay quiet, even if it makes a long drive longer.

Y/N jolts awake at the sound of the trunk slamming shut. She takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She doesn't see Dean next to her, so she scans her surroundings through squinted eyes, hoping for a clue about her whereabouts. She finds a gas station receipt in her lap and flips it over to see the scribbles of Dean's handwriting telling her to 'stay put or else.' She rolls her eyes, crumpling it into a ball to throw it into the backseat.

She hears the voices of two familiar men, one of whom she hasn't heard in two years. Her heart races, and she fumbles with the seat belt, trying to unhook it with shaky hands. She jumps out of the car and turns in time to see Dean leaning on the back of the Impala.

"It's a law school interview," Sam says, "and it's my whole future on a plate," he glares.

"Law school?" Dean asks with a smirk. Y/N walks over to stand next to Dean. He shoots a quick, acknowledging glance her way. Sam's eyes shift between Dean and Y/N, softening when they land on Y/N, "so we got a deal or not?" he asks flatly.

Dean says nothing but lightly nods his head. Y/N runs towards Sam, nearly knocking him over with a hug.

"Y/N/N," he smiles. Pulling her even closer to him, he wraps his arms tightly around her back and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you," he whispers.

"I missed you, too," she says, her eyes welling up with tears. Sam looks at Dean just in time to see him press his lips together with an 'I told you so' in his eyes. Sam shakes his head, squinting at Dean just before he lets go of Y/N.

"Kay, I gotta put a bag together," he sighs, "I'll be right back."

He turns to head for the door, and Y/N doesn't take her eyes off him until he disappears into the building. She blinks her eyes and turns to face Dean. He pushes himself off the back of the car and silently heads for the driver seat.

Sam and Y/N sit in the car at a gas station while Dean heads for snacks. Sam opens his door but quickly looks over his shoulder to check on Y/N. This is when he notices the box of tapes sitting next to her. Intrigued, he shifts in the chair and asks her to hand them to him. Y/N is hesitant because it's hard to say how Dean would react, and she's always hated being in the middle of their fights but does so anyway. Sam rests his tongue between his lips as he takes the box from Y/N. Stretching his legs out of the car, he rests the box in his lap to filter through them.

"Hey," Dean says from behind the Impala, his mouth wrapped around a candy bar, "either of you want breakfast?" he asks, holding a soda and a bag of chips.

Y/N waits for Sam to answer first. "No, thanks," he says, glancing Dean's way momentarily.

"I do," Y/N smiles.

"So how'd you pay for that stuff? Three of you still running credit card scams?" Sam says, going back to looking through the cassettes.

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career," Dean says, putting the gas nozzle back into the pump.

Y/N chimes in, "Besides, all we do is apply," she shrugs, "it's not our fault they send us the cards."

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the applications this time?" he asks, swinging his legs back inside the car and closing the door behind him.

"Uh, Burt Aframian," Y/N answers. Dean gets into the seat, handing Y/N the drink and chips. "Thank you," she chirps.

"And his son Hector," Dean adds, "scored two cards out of the deal."

"Sounds about right. I swear, man. You've gotta update your cassette tape collection."

Dean frowns, nearly offended. "Why?"

"Well, for one, they're cassette tapes, and two," Sam holds one up, "Black Sabbath? Motorhead?" he says, dropping them to grab another, "Metallica?" he laughs, "It's the greatest hits of mullet rock," he says as Dean rips the Metallica tape from his hand with a glare.

"Well, house rules, Sammy." Dean pops the tape into the player with a tight smile, "driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake-hole," he says, dropping the empty case into the box. "Isn't that right, Y/N?" he smirks into the rear-view mirror and smiles when he sees her roll her eyes.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old," Sam scolds, "it's Sam, okay?"

Turning the volume up, Dean cocks his head to the side, "sorry. I can't hear you. The music's too loud," he says with a slight chuckle.

Crashing a crime scene where police are still investigating is just another Saturday with Dean for Y/N, but seeing Sam's eyes widen at the box of Dean's fake IDs calls attention to how out of the norm this life is. Dean makes wise-ass comments to the cops, as usual, and Sam stomps on Dean's foot. Dean responds by smacking Sam's head as they bicker on the way back to the car, but Y/N can't help but grin from ear to ear.

Even when her brothers are arguing, Y/N couldn't possibly be happier. Today is her first hunt with both of her brothers and the first time in far too long since the three of them had been together for any reason.

They make their way to find Amy, who they learn is the girlfriend of the victim from listening to the cops on the bridge. They stop her while she's putting up missing posters, and after lying about being distant relatives of her boyfriend, they ask if she'd be willing to answer some questions to find him.

… "It's kind of this local legend," Amy's friend says after a few minutes of chatting. Massaging her thumb with her other hand, she continues, "This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago." Dean glances over at Sam and Y/N, who listen intently, "Well, supposedly, she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever."

At a local library, Dean searches the archive page for any murders on Centennial Highway with no results. Sam shoves Dean's chair, and when it rolls back, he scoots his chair to the computer to take over, earning him a slap from Dean. After replacing 'murder' with 'suicide,' a news article pops up.

"This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river," Sam reads.

"Does it say why she did it?" Y/N asks, scooting her chair closer to Sam to try and read the screen.

"Yeah," Sam says.

"What?" Dean says with raised eyebrows.

"An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing." Sam lets out a breath, "both die," he says in a whisper.

The air grows thick around them, and Y/N frowns. "That's terrible," she says, shaking her head.

"'Our babies were gone,'" Sam reads, "'and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch."

"Hmm," Dean points to the picture on the screen, "that bridge look familiar to you?"

They hit the bridge at nightfall. Crickets sing to water drumming against the rocks as it rushes under their feet. The clouds hang low in the sky, giving the air around them a haze.

"So," Dean says, peering over the bridge at the water, "this is where Constance took the swan dive," he says, leaning against the rail next to Y/N. 

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asks in disbelief, looking over at Dean. 

"Well, he's chasing the same story, and we're chasing him," Dean shrugs, turning to walk down the bridge. 

Sam turns to follow. "Okay, so now what?" he says, forcing a breath through his nose. Y/N walks right next to him, still scared to let him out of her sight. 

"Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while," Dean grumbles. 

Sam stops walking, "Dean," he says, raising his hands before dropping them. "I told you. I've gotta be back by Monday." 

"Monday," Dean says, pivoting to make grueling eye contact with Sam, but only turns his body enough that he's still facing the bridge's railing. "Right," he says, shaking a finger, "the interview." The bridge creaks under him as he turns the rest of the way. 

"Yeah," Sam nods. 

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Dean says, shifting his weight between his feet. "You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?" Dean asks, the animosity growing with each word. 

Sam shrugs, "maybe. Why not?" 

Dean's voice roughens, "Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know the things you've done?" 

Sam takes a few threatening steps toward Dean, "No, and she's not ever going to know," he scowls. 

"Well, that's healthy," Dean sneers. "You can pretend all you want, Sammy, but sooner or later, you're going to have to face up to who you really are," he says, turning around to continue walking. 

Sam huffs, "Who's that?" 

"You're one of us," Dean shrugs, a hand gesturing towards Y/N. 

"Hey! Leave me out of this," Y/N grumbles from ahead. 

"No," Sam says, speed walking towards Dean, "I'm not like you," he says, turning around as he stops in front of Dean. "This is not going to be my life."

Dean keeps his jaw tight. "Well, you have a responsibility to..." 

Y/N feels the tension rising and tries to plead with them to stop arguing, but they ignore her. "Guys!" she shouts again. 

"To Dad? And his crusade?" Sam scoffs. "If it weren't for pictures, I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like! And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her," he shakes his head, "Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back." 

Dean grips Sam's shirt and swings him around and against the bridge's railing with a clunk at Sam's weight against it. 

Y/N flips around and runs to their side, "Dean, what are you doing? Are you crazy?" She panics. But Dean continues to ignore her as he glares at Sam. 

After a long, breathless pause, Y/N shouts again, "Dean!" 

The misty air is still between them, and even the wind seems too frightened to move. It's as if the world is put on pause.

Dean's eyebrows raise, and he keeps a firm grip on Sam's shirt. Under his breath, he says, "Don't talk about her like that." 

He throws Sam's jacket from his hands and takes a few stabilizing steps backward in one movement. Y/N runs to check on Sam, who shakes her off with an "I'm fine" that sounds muffled compared to the pounding of her heart. A few tears escape her when she looks over at Dean walking away from them, but she doesn't realize she's crying until the taste of salt hits her lips. 

Her eyes return to Sam, shaking her head in disgust that Dean would treat him like that. She knew it had been rough for Dean since Sam left for college, but hell, it's been hard on her, too, and she's not throwing anyone against the side of a bridge!

Dean halts, “Sam. Y/N!” he calls. Y/N turns with a full-body glare, but her eyes widen when she sees a woman in a long, white dress standing on the bridge's railing. The woman looks over at them, and Y/N can see the resemblance to the picture of Constance. The woman's hair and dress sway in the wind, and she keeps her eyes on them as she allows herself to drop from the ledge. 

With a grunt, Sam rushes to the railing to look over it for her, Dean and Y/N not far behind him. 

"Where'd she go?" Dean barks. 

Breathless, Sam pushes out an "I don't know." 

The roar of the Impala's engine turning on startles them, their bodies whipping around just in time to see the headlights flick on. 

"What the-," Dean says. 

"Who's driving your car?" Y/N asks. 

Without taking his eyes off of the car, Dean pulls his keys from his pocket and jingles them, stealing Sam and Y/N's attention to them in unison. The engine revs, drawing back their wide eyes to the Impala. The tires squeal as the car begins to speed towards them. 

"Y/N, go! Go!" Dean says with a hand on each of his siblings, spinning them around to run in the opposite direction. Dean presses his hand firmly on Y/N's back as they run, keeping himself between her and the car. They run as fast as they can until Dean can feel the Impala's breath on his ankles, and he guides them towards the bridge's railing. 

Y/N's heart feels like a brick in her chest, weighing her down at the thought of jumping over. "I can't," she says in a breath, and all in a split second, she feels like her feet are cemented into the bridge's planks as Sam jumps over. "No!" she screams as Dean grips onto her arm, pulling them both over the bridge. 

Sam hangs from the ledge of the bridge, shouting for Y/N as her screams are washed out with a big splash. "Y/N!" he calls again from the back of his throat, climbing up the bridge to get on his knees. He looks over the bridge, scanning for Y/N and Dean, calling out when he sees his brother, "Dean! You alright?" 

"I'm super," Dean grumbles with an outstretched thumbs up. Lying on his back, half submerged in the muddy water. 

"I can't see Y/N! Where's Y/N?" Sam panics, and when the words hit Dean's ears, he springs to his feet in a second. He whirls around in a circle as he searches for her. 

"Y/N!" Dean shouts, wiping mud from his face. He paces around, "Y/N, where are you?" he yells, half-expecting her to pop out from behind a bush to scare him. 

The world spins around him for a moment, utterly void of sound aside from a ringing in his ears as Dean tries to comprehend what is happening. He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head to clear away the fog that covers him. They open onto the water, catching the moon's glimmer reflecting off something. He runs towards it, hopping from rock to rock until he finds Y/N's broken locket stuck in algae. Dean picks it up with shaky hands, recalling how her face lit up when he first gave it to her. She'd be devastated to see its state now. Fear spills down him in an icy chill.

His head swivels around in search of her. Tears, that he refuses to let fall, poke at his eyes when he sees her lying face down in the water, a bloody rock next to her.

“Y/N!” He shouts, rushing to her. He kneels to pull her out of the water by her shoulder, turning her over so that her back rests against his knee. "Y/N!" he yells again, and when she doesn't respond, he grabs her by the waist and hoists her over his shoulder. He grunts, shifting his weight before jogging for the shore. "Sam! I got her!" 

"Dean! Is she okay?" He calls out as he sprints down the side of the hill to catch up to them. The brothers reach the shore simultaneously, and Dean drops to his knees to gently set Y/N on the ground in front of him, Sam following suit. 

"Come on, be okay, be okay, be okay, be okay," Dean pleads softly, placing two fingers on her neck. His heart is beating so hard that he can't tell if it's her pulse he's feeling or his own. "Sam, I can't feel anything," he says. Dropping an ear to her mouth, he adds, "And I don't think she's breathing." 

"Call 911," Sam demands, ripping his jacket off to tie around Y/N's bleeding head wound. He quickly inspects the rest of her body for any bleeding before placing a hand on her chest. Looking up at Dean, who stands frozen, Sam puts his free hand on Dean's shoulder, "now, Dean!" he shouts, shoving him. 

Sam tilts Y/N's head back, checking again for a pulse, a breath, a twitch, a shudder, anything that meant he wouldn't have to perform CPR on his baby sister. He places his hands on her chest, one over the other, pausing in case her heart miraculously started again, but all he feels under his palms is the stillness of Y/N's wet and cold chest. 

Sam begins chest compressions, and the tears he'd been holding back rush out uncontrollably when he feels her ribs break under his palms. It makes him want to pull away, but he forces himself to continue. Dean watches in wide-eyed horror as he gives the 911 operator their location when asked, keeping his free hand pressed against his forehead. 

"Anything?" he shakily shouts at Sam after what feels like hours. Sam ignores him, counting out loud until he hits thirty again. He stops compressions to blow a shuddering breath into Y/N's mouth, watching her chest rise and fall before delivering another. "Hello! Is anybody on the way? My sister is dying here!" Dean shouts into the phone, but all that meets his ears is static. 

"Dean," Sam says with a heavy breath, beginning compressions again. "You gotta take over," he says between breaths. 

Without question, Dean drops his phone to the ground as he falls to his knees next to her, "come on, Y/N," he pleads, ignoring the burning in his knees as he places his hands together on top of Sam's. Sam leaves his hands under Dean's for just one compression before pulling away. 

"Okay, that's ten. You've got twenty more before breaths," Sam says before they count out loud together with every push into Y/N's chest. 

Dean is growing tired by his third round of compressions, but the sirens in the distance electrify him, giving him the energy he needs to continue. 

His face scrunches up as he musters the emotional and physical strength to keep going. Sam hurries to his feet, "don't stop, Dean, you're doing great!" he says with a palm at him. 

"Don't stop," Dean repeats mindlessly, "don't stop." 

Sprinting towards the paramedics, Sam waves his arms, shouting, "Down here! We're down here!" before he knows it, a group of professionals sprint down the hill, the gurney in tow. One takes a story from Sam as one tries to pull Dean away so the other two can take over caring for Y/N. 

"No, I can't stop!" he cries, which grabs Sam's attention, "don't stop," he nearly whispers, hands pumping into Y/N's chest. 

Sam rushes over and lowers himself to Dean's level. "Dean, let go. It's okay, they'll take it from here," he says, grabbing onto Dean's hands to pull him off of Y/N. They watch the paramedics in shock as they cut the shirt, bra, and pants off of Y/N, inspecting her skin. The first responders put what look like stickers with wires attached to them onto her chest and pull out the AED, telling everyone to stand clear before delivering a shock with a beep. Then, there was a pause and the silence that follows is deafening. Nothing. They check for a pulse and call clear again, shocking her. Then, nothing. Again. 

In the hospital's hallway, Dean tries to tune out the surround sound of constant beeping. His elbows rest on his scraped and bloody knees with his head held in his hands. He rocks back and forth, battling with himself. He sheds tears both out of fear for his sister's well-being and of guilt that he did the very thing he promised her he wouldn't: put her in danger.

The clacking of Sam's shoes pulls Dean from his homemade mental Hell. Dean lifts his head, quickly wiping his eyes before grabbing the cafeteria coffee. Sam's familiar smell of motel soap and deodorant washes away the torturous smell of hand sanitizer.

"Thanks," Dean mutters, taking a sip of the coffee before placing it next to him on the cold tile floor. 

Sam's eyes are red and puffy. Dean struggles to comprehend how Sam doesn't even try to hide the tears coming down. He often admires his brothers ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, though he'd never admit it. He wonders who he's being 'strong' for in this moment because it's certainly not himself.

Clearing his throat, Sam pulls his pants up slightly at the thighs before sitting on the bench next to Dean. He glances up at the ceiling momentarily, waiting for the announcement to end before asking, "Any news yet?"

Dean shakes his head. "No," he says in a raspy voice, forcing his eyes to look up and down the hall. "Excuse me," he says, standing to interrupt a nurse before she can enter a different room. "Would you mind helping us find whoever we need to talk to for an update on room 221?" he asks, gesturing to the door he hasn't been able to even look at since arriving.

Her eyes flutter to Sam, then the door, and back to Dean before she somberly nods. "Of course," she says, setting her pen back onto the clipboard as she turns to head in the direction she came.

Dean wants to return to his seat, but his body feels like an anchor. He sucks in a sharp breath. His shoulders tighten into his neck and with weak arms his hands fall to his hips. He hangs his head, clenching his teeth and pulling his face to suppress the tears. Sam jumps up to Stand with Dean, placing a hand tightly on his shoulder.

"She'll be alright," Sam says, not fully believing himself, "she's a Winchester; she has to be." 

Dean quickly straightens himself out because damn it, he's the one that's supposed to be taking care of his younger siblings - not the other way around.

"Sam and Dean Winchester?" a deep voice echoes the hall and they whirl around to greet the doctor. Dean quickly slaps the tears from his face. "I'm Dr. Ferguson," he says, holding his arm up to shake hands with Sam, then Dean. "Let's go somewhere more private to talk."

"We're good here," Dean spits. 

"Very well," the doctor sighs, looking down the hall behind him. He shuffles them closer to the wall and out of the traffic flow. "Well, while we were able to restart her heart, I'm afraid your sister has sustained a substantial injury to the head," he says, "the trauma caused the tissue around her brain to swell quite rapidly, and well, we have her on a ventilator, but," he lets out a breath, "we haven't seen as much progress as we were hoping for. She's technically in a coma right now, but we hope to see her come out of it in the coming weeks." 

"Weeks?" Dean bellows.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's standard recovery time for an injury of this magnitude. Although, we'd be having an entirely different conversation if not for your quick thinking in the field," he says with a tight-lipped smile, eyes jumping from Dean's to Sam's, "it's a long road to recovery, but this is a good start." 

"And what happens if she doesn't wake up?" Sam asks. 

"We will do everything in our power to ensure that doesn't happen," the doctor nods. 

"Thanks, doc," Sam croaks. "Can - can we see her?" he stutters. 

"Of course," he says, pushing the door open with his fingertips, "go on in," he says.  

Sam immediately notices Dean's hesitancy when they exchange a glance, so he nods before taking a few steps into the room. He covers his mouth to stifle a sob when he sees his little sister with a tube down her throat and one in her nose. When he's close enough, he reaches for her hand and sits in the chair beside her, startled by the sound of the door shutting. Dean slowly enters the room, but keeps his distance.

Dean feels like the air is void of oxygen and tells himself to pull it together enough to stand by her bed. "Hey kiddo," Dean says to Y/N with a shaky breath. "God, please be okay," he says, forcing a smile as he grips onto her hand.

The two sit with Y/N for days, only leaving for bathroom trips and snack runs, but when one goes, the other stays, and when one is napping, the other is awake. Dean has grown slightly more self-composed but is still anxious as they stay by her side, even when the nurses come to deliver medications, chart vitals, or empty her catheter.

"Hey, Dean," Sam says, clearing his throat. 

"Yeah," he replies, keeping his eyes on Y/N. 

Sam looks down into his hands, "about my interview-" 

"Wait, what?" Dean says, cutting him off, "you're still gonna leave after all this?" he shouts through a clenched jaw. The chair scoots back in a screech as he quickly brings himself to his feet, "you don't wanna be here when she wakes up?" he asks, aggressively gesturing at Y/N. 

"Dean, we don't even know if she'll wake up," Sam quivers. 

"Man, you are a piece of work," Dean shouts, shaking his head. 

"If you would've let me finish," Sam growls with narrow eyes, "I was going to say that I called earlier… to reschedule it," he sighs, looking back at Y/N, "they were very understanding of the situation." 

"Oh," Dean says, turning on his heels to face away from Sam. He swipes a hand down his face, shaking his head when his eyes open to the white walls of the hospital's room. "Look, man, I'm sorry," he says, palms open and facing Sam. "This just has me on edge." 

Taking a few steps towards him, Sam holds back the urge to get nasty with Dean, telling him he's not the only one feeling 'on edge' about their sister's condition. Instead, he raises his palms and softens his face, "Me too. Believe me." 

By Thursday, Y/N had graduated from a ventilator to an oxygen mask. Though still needing the feeding tube, she's shown glimpses here and there of the Y/N they know and love, but overall, she struggles to remain conscious. The doctors are calling it a 'Minimally Conscious State' and "completely normal with this type of recovery."

On Saturday, Sam heads out for food from a local restaurant at Dean's request - something about them having good pies - but Sam has a sneaking suspicion that Dean needs some time alone with Y/N, and Sam could use the fresh air anyway.

Sitting in the chair beside her bed, Dean holds one of Y/N's hands in both of his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. "I'm so sorry I failed you, Y/N," he cries. "I should have been protecting you," he whispers, letting the tears fall freely now, "but instead of doing that, I got you into this mess."

Looking up at Y/N's face, he swears he sees a tear slip down her cheek. Despite being convinced he's imagining it, he reflexively draws his hand to wipe her tear away, gasping when it comes back wet. His heart races as he gently stands to get beside her in the bed. "Shh," he coos, wrapping his arm around her.

His eyes fall shut, and he's transported back in time to the almost seven-month period where she would only fall asleep if Dean were right there in bed next to her. Through tears and voice cracks, he sings Hey Jude in a whisper, occasionally reaching over to wipe her tears away.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I don't know how to live without you," he says, his tears turning into sobs. "Please wake up," he cries, arm wrapped tightly around her, "I promise I'll teach you how to drive if you just please wake up."

~~~~ If you liked my story, please remember to heart, comment or reblog. Or if you'd like, you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

Everything Tags <3

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Sam <3 (not including the tags already above :) ) @fangirlxwritesx67 @immafangirlmess @sizekinkshawty

[niki-phoria]

Hello there! If its okay can you do gn neutral reader x Chishiya,so the scenario is Chishiya seeing his campus crush on borderland and they are the new excutive member who is sarcastic, kind but mean as a joke and pretty intelligent and THEY ARE REALLY REALLY ATTRACTIVE.I hope it's not much if you do it, it will be a another motivation for me to shift tysm!

xiao's love of doctor chishiya gifs returns

pairing: chishiya x gn!beach executive!reader (they/them pronouns) genre: fluff, comfort (??) word count: 1.7k

warnings: kinda ooc chishiya, reader gets shot with an arrow (non descriptive), mentions of blood, implication of stitches, the person helping reader is supposed to be tatta but i couldn't figure out to bring it up (my boy deserves better), niragi, poor depiction of the beach executive scene, niragi, i am a niragi hater and a dori lover until the day i die, tumblr glitched and the original post i wrote for this didn't save and it scared the shit out of me lmao

a/n: thank you for requesting !! i couldn't really figure out how to add reader being chishiya's campus crush so it just starts with them knowing each other lmao. thank you for being so descriptive with reader's personality that's super helpful i hope you like it :))

additional note: i'm almost at 500 followers (HUGE thank you btw that's crazy) and i was thinking of doing an event thing ?? but i'm not sure if anyone would be interested so lmk ig lmao

requests are open !! read my rules first

“y/n?” you perk up at the familiar voice, quick to leave your conversation with ann and mira. 

“chishiya!” he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of a white jacket. he’s wearing a pair of swim trunks and sandals. you can barely see his wristband from where the sleeve of his jacket ends. “i can never get rid of you, can i?” you tease.

“i suppose not.” chishiya leans back against the wall, a little uncomfortable at the stares of the other beach members in the room. 

sensing his discomfort, you glance over your shoulder at them. “ah, i should give you a tour. have you picked a room yet?” 

“i was hoping you could help with that.” 

you tug chishiya along with you, guiding him through the different areas of the beach. 

your shoulders brush against each other as you sit by the pool, dunking your legs in the cold water. “how long have you been here?” you ask. 

“just a few days,” chishiya replies. “i’m still not entirely sure what’s going on.” 

you glance behind you over your shoulder, dropping your voice to a whisper. “you know about the visas and the cards?” he nods, subtly leaning in a little closer. “hatter thinks we’ll be able to send someone back to the normal world once we collect all of the cards.”

“you don’t think so?” 

you sigh. “i’m not sure. we only have a few cards right now, but something tells me it won’t be that easy.” despite the pool being completely empty, you lean in even closer to chishiya to whisper in his ear. “i don’t think we can trust the people here.” chishiya shivers. your breath is warm against his neck. he can feel his ears burn slightly when you pull away. 

an unfamiliar feeling settles itself in his stomach. fear? dread? anxiety? you kick small ripplies into the water, slowly reaching over to hold his hand. despite all of the unknowns he’s sure you’ll be forced to confront, chishiya finds comfort in the feeling of your hand in his. 

chishiya paces along the outside of the beach, continuously looking out at the horizon. “waiting for someone?” kuina asks, leaning back against the wall of the hotel. chishiya sighs, knowing her question is rhetorical. 

“y/n’s not back yet.” 

kuina pushes off of the wall, suddenly serious. “they’re not?” he shakes his head, looking out into the darkness again. “well, do you know who they were with during their last game? maybe someone knows something.” 

“i haven’t seen anyone since i came back.” 

“what about the other executives? have you told them?” chishiya doesn’t answer. “there has to be something we can do, right? what about-” 

“hey!” in the distance they can barely see a man struggling to pull someone towards the beach. “help me! i need help!” 

kuina is quick to react, rushing over to the man. chishiya watches her as she runs to meet him, gasping. “chishiya!” she yells. “it’s y/n!” 

he can almost feel the blood in his body go cold. kuina shoves herself underneath your other arm, helping the man pull you to the beach. it feels like the world has stopped - everything frozen at this moment in time. 

after what feels like forever chishiya manages to will his body to move, rushing to you. blood coats your side and jacket, seeping through your shirt. he presses a hand against your wound, supporting your weight. 

“what happened?” he hopes his voice isn’t shaking. 

“they had crossbows,” the man pants. “i had to pull it out but i think it went straight through. i didn’t know what else to do.” 

“chishiya,” you whimper, clutching his body. 

“it’s okay,” he whispers. “it’s gonna be okay.” 

you grunt as he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting your body into his arms. you cling to his body, letting him carry you into the beach’s basement. he gently sets you on a metal table before frantically searching through the room for medical supplies. kuina leans over you, pressing a towel against your side. you wince at the pressure, tears stinging your eyes. 

“sorry,” she whispers. “i’m sorry.” 

chishiya takes over for her soon after, moving the towel to the side. “this is gonna hurt,” he warns. you grab his hand, squeezing it. 

“i trust you.” 

the pain is sharp and sudden. it feels like someone is pressing on your chest, preventing any air from entering your lungs. the ceiling above you blurs into a mix of blue lighting and gray metal before it all goes black and the world disappears. 

the pain has subsided greatly when you wake up. your vision is blurry as you blink a few times, trying to clear your vision. sunlight shines through open curtains, illuminating the hotel room you lay in. it’s clean - cleaner than your room. the sheets feel nice against your skin. 

you grunt, forcing yourself to sit up. your body aches as you lean back against the headboard. the door opens quietly before it closes. a man sighs before he enters. “chishiya?” your voice is raspy when you try to speak. your throat stings. 

“y/n,” chishiya rushes to your side, opening a bottle of water and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, desperate for any liquid. “how are you feeling?” 

“sore.” 

chishiya takes the empty bottle, sitting down next to you. he reaches out to grab your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. his voice is quiet when he speaks again. “you really scared me, you know.” 

“about me dying? come on, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” you squeeze his hand. “chishiya,” you whisper. he looks down at you. “i’m okay. you saved me.” 

“i know, i just…” he sighs, staring back down at your hands. you intertwine your fingers together, a silent way of encouraging him to continue. “i can’t lose you. you were back late, and then when you make it here you were hurt. and then you passed out and…” chishiya takes a deep breath, tension from his shoulders relaxing a little. “i don’t want to see you hurt. i love you.” 

“‘shiya,” you bring a hand up to his face, wiping away a stray tear he hadn’t realized had fallen. you lift his chin, forcing him to look at you. “i know everything will be okay as long as i have you. i love you too.” 

chishiya gives you a small smile, pulling your hand up to press a kiss against your knuckles. “don’t ever do this to me again.” 

you chuckle. “i won’t. i promise.” 

you pull the chair out between chishiya and niragi, taking your seat at the executives table. arisu stands uncomfortably at the other side of the room, watching you. chishiya raises his hand, waving at him. you playfully elbow his side. “he’s nervous, leave him alone.” 

“i’m just waving,” he retorts. 

“you looked just like him when you got here,” you tease. “give him a break.” 

mira, ann, and kuzuryu sit across from you. on your right, next to niragi, aguni sits at the edge, right next to hatter. 

“we are here to discuss the potential promotion of our very own, arisu!” hatter enthusiastically introduces, pointing over at the man. arisu shifts uncomfortably at the attention. 

niragi scoffs. “are we really trusting him to be an executive?” 

“we’re trusting you to be an executive.” niragi glares at you, reaching for his rifle before ann interrupts. 

“he was able to win a seven of hearts. we haven’t seen that card before.” 

“it’s a seven of hearts,” mira exaggerates. “if arisu was able to win the game, then, we should be able to send someone back to the normal world soon.” 

“she’s right,” kuzuryu says, leaning back in his chair. “heart games are the most difficult.” 

“i vote for promoting him.” you say. under the table, chishiya reaches over to grab your hand. “he won a heart game we’ve never seen before. people have been promoted for less.” 

“why don’t we test him? send him into a game with an executive and see how he operates under the pressure.” ann suggests. hatter points at her, tutting. 

“now that’s a good idea. any objections?” after a few seconds of silence, hatter stands. “perfect! this meeting has been concluded.” 

chishiya’s hand remains in yours as you leave the room, slinking through the various corridors of the hotel you’ve found to a private area. “what are you thinking about arisu?” he asks. 

“he won a heart game and you said he was good in tag. he could be a useful ally.” he hums in agreement. 

the fire burns around you as you re-enter the remains of the hotel you used to call your home. a man stands in the center of what used to be the lobby, hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“chishiya?” you call, avoiding the heat as you step closer. he glances over his shoulder at you, picking something up off of the table. you lean over to see what he’s holding. it’s a card. the ten of hearts. 

“you were right, you know,” he says, throwing the card back onto the table. he smiles when you cock your head at him in confusion. “when i first arrived, one of the first things you said to me was that i shouldn’t trust the people here. you were right.” chishiya steps closer, intertwining his hands with yours. “i’m starting to think collecting the cards was pointless after all.” 

the flames around you only grow stronger. “as much as i’d like to bask in your praise, we really need to leave,” you say, reaching over to grab his arm. “let’s go. kuina’s waiting.” he hums, pressing a kiss against your temple as he follows you out.

[gaminghardwareingames]

Super Game Boy 2

Screenshots from https://www.vgmuseum.com/features/sgb/ and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCjJAcM6hI8&ab_channel=PugHoofGaming

[swiss-mrs]

Special Places

Eddie Munson x Neurodivergent!Reader

(Word Count: 7.6k)

Rating: PG-13, Pure Fluff, Reader and Eddie are 20- something though.

Synopsis: Hellfire Club is forced to relocate as half the members are no longer Hawkins High students. After a quick meeting with the owner, Gary, Jeff pulls through and finds a new location for the crew, the basement of Black Key Records. The location was perfect. It was quiet, private, and magical, plus the owner and staff are pretty cool. In fact, one of the workers there has really caught Eddie's eye.

Reader Description: Quirky, Tomboyish, Black/Mixed She-They with Locs/Braids/Twists and Diverse Music Taste. Reader is Neurodivergent. Body Type/Size is Not Described. No Use of Y/N.

Warnings: Mentions/Depictions of Sensory Issues, Mention of Bullying, Undiagnosed/Misunderstood Mental Complexities, Adult Language, Reader is Referred to By a Nickname.

spotify playlist added in fic

“Can you guys just trust me?” Jeff says, turning around to face the crew following him, walking backwards.

“No.” Gareth chimes in, “We had a perfectly good setup where we were.” He says defiantly.

“We were kicked out, dummy. It's irrelevant now.” Erica retorts, words dripping with sass, rolling her eyes.

“Just give it one game, and if you guys don't like it, we can keep looking, but I really think this place will be good for us… and it's free.” Jeff turns back around and leads the group to the glass paneled, metal framed door.

The members start bickering back and forth as Jeff opens the door, ringing a bell as it swings inward. As the crew files in, Eddie takes a second to look up at the tall, brick building, wedged between other businesses. Once inside, he’s met with rows upon rows of records and miscellaneous music merchandise. The ceilings are high, and there was what looked like a loft at the back of the building, curtains covering the window that faced the store floor. He tried to take in the sights, but the constant annoyance that was his sheeps’ bickering wouldn't allow him a single thought. 

“Shut Up!” Eddie silences the crew, holding up a hand. All the boys quiet down and turn to him, Erica rolling her eyes and crossing her arms. Eddie's gaze meets Jeff. He holds up a finger with a raised brow,  “One game.” Jeff nods in response.

“Welcome back!” A voice calls out from behind Jeff. The dark skinned boy turns to face the voice, moving out of the way for everyone to get a view of the person walking up to them. Their face holds a bright smile, their eyes connecting with Jeff before roaming to get a good look at the rest of the matching shirt group. “Is this everyone?” Jeff nods in response.

“Hey, Sunny. Yeah, this is us. Everyone, meet Sunshine. Sunshine, everyone.” Jeff gestures back and forth during the brief introduction. As Jeff begins to go down the list, pointing at everyone and saying their individual names, Eddie is staring at the stranger, now acquaintance, you.

You had the most uniquely beautiful face Eddie had ever laid eyes on, a beautiful skin complexion to match. Your hair was amazing, twisted upon itself in chunky, individual strands. You wore a dark blue, button down shirt with a red patch where a breast pocket would be and yellow loose fitting pants. Atop your twisted locks sat a dark pair of dark sunglasses. You radiated “cool” energy, Eddie’s type of cool.

“And this is our Dungeon Master, Eddie.” Jeff said finally, snapping Eddie out of his trance.

“Dungeon Master, huh?” You raised your brows with a teasing smirk, a playful look in your eyes.

Eddie's lips slowly broke out into a knowing grin, lifting one brow. “One and only.” He shrugs, getting an amused smile in return.

“Alright, well,” your eyes scan to each one in the group. "If you follow me,” you begin walking backwards, “I'll show you guys where to set up.” your eyes land back on Eddie, lingering before you turn to walk properly.

“Lead the way.” Eddie says, passing Jeff, following you closely through the isles. The group slowly trailed behind.

“This spot better be good. I don't think our dear leader is going to let us look anywhere else.” Gareth mumbles under his breath to Jeff, watching Eddie's back. Eddie whips his head around, shooting a glare at Gareth, startling the boy. Eddie's eyes dared Gareth to make another comment. As soon as they make eye contact, Gareth looks away, trying to avoid the piercing stare. As soon as Eddie turns his head back around and rounds a corner after their guide, the group, minus  Gareth, snicker quietly at the predicament he's found himself in.

They all make their way around a corner and into a corridor at the back of the store. They turn left and are met with two doors. The door on the right wall leads to stairs heading up, the other one at the end of the hall leads to a stairway heading down.

Their guide opens the door ahead of them and flips a light switch, heading down the steps. You speak up once everyone gets to the bottom of the stairs. “Welcome to the Basement, Hellfire!” You stretch out your arms, turn a full circle and land to face them. “Or Dungeon, I guess.” You shrug, doing your arms to your sides with a smack. “I've already moved some stuff around to try and create a good gaming vibe,” You gesture to the table and chairs you preemptively set up in the middle of the room, “but you are more than welcome to rearrange the table and whatever to how you like. There are some drinks in the mini fridge over there. That door is a bathroom, but there's extra stalls up the stairs on the other side of the hall if needed. Store closes at 8, but no pressure or rush. I usually stay until about 9 making sure the shop is ready for the next day, but if you don't see me on the floor when you're done, just bang on the door at the top of the stairs on the left and I'll see you guys out.” You hold up two thumbs once you’re done, silently asking if they got everything. You were met with a few nods, ‘okay’s, and ‘thanks’.

“I think we got it. Thanks, again, for loaning us the space, Sunny.” Jeff speaks up.

“No problem, dude.” You begin walking towards the stairs to head back up. “Let me know if you guys need anything!” You then run up the stairs, closing the door behind you.

“Well, I must admit, it's not a bad space. Good find, man.” Gareth pats Jeff on the back before he and the rest of the group start setting up, excited for a fun evening. Eddie stands closer to the bottom of the stairs, watching his little sheep set up everything. His mind strays to the cute worker upstairs, but he's soon jolted out of his thoughts by Gareth, “Ready to roll, Ed!”

》》》

“I can't believe I died! Where were you?! What a great help you were.” Dustin yelled sarcastically at Mike, obviously upset.

“I'm sorry, man! I couldn't just leave Lord Ragnor behind!” The two of them bicker back and forth as they are the first ones out the basement. The group, loud and energized from the end of their session. The store lights have dimmed and the darkness of the night can be seen through the now gated store windows. The flickering street lamp out in the parking lot shone on a singular van.

“Anybody spot, sunshine?!” Jeff yells over the group. They all turn their heads, scanning the isles of records, before looking back to Jeff and shaking their heads no.

“I'll go knock.” Eddie volunteers, turning and running back to the hall they all just left. He uses the empty door frame to help him turn the corner. The group went back to bickering, going back to all their prior arguments. He knocks on the door three times. After not getting a response for a good 30 seconds, he tries again, knocking three more times. He looks through the small window at the top of the door but is only met with the image of a set of stairs. Another 30 seconds goes by and still nothing. Eddie tries the handle and finds it unlocked. He slowly opens the door. As soon as he's halfway through the door, he could hear the sound of music being played through a stereo. He clears his voice, “Hello? Uh, Sunshine?”

As soon as he spoke up, he could hear someone scrambling around at the top of the stairs. “Coming!” A voice responds. Eddie sees you stumble around the corner as if you almost tripped, before running down the stairs. “Sorry! Sorry.” You scramble, meeting Eddie at the bottom of the stairs. You take the door from Eddie, opening it wider. He moves over a little to make room for you to walk through.

“All good, I wasn't waiting long.” He lies, “Didn't mean to spook you.” He follows you out the hallway and to the main floor.

“No, no. You're fine! Sorry, I was a bit preoccupied in my own little world. I didn't hear you knock.” You apologize, glancing back at Eddie as you walked and talked. Before he could say anything else, you turn back to the crew who were waiting by the door. “Sorry to keep you all waiting! How was your game?” You address the group. The club parts like the red sea, freeing a path to the front door for their host and Eddie.

“It was okay until someone killed me!” Dustin yelled, aiming his words at Mike.

“It was good, very interesting, as always.” Eddie answers, a bit more calm than his angry counterpart.

“Well, that's good to hear.” You say over your shoulder to Eddie as you unlock the door. Once unlocked, you turn to look at Dustin, “Sorry to hear you parished.” You say with sad eyes and a dramatic pout, leaning against the door to prop it open. Eddie grins at the action.

Dustin is first to head out the door, “It's fine.” He grumbles. Each member follows him out in a line, thanking you. Before Eddie walks out, he stops and stands right in front of your leaning figure, “Thank you for hosting us, Lady Sunshine.” He says dramatically, bowing.

“Twas a pleasure, Master of Dungeons.” You reply, matching his energy. Eddie breaks out in a grin sharing your bright smile.

“Til we meet again, m'lady.”

“Same time next week?” You smile up at him, breaking character. Eddie nods, still holding his grin, walking out the door backwards, keeping eye contact with you until you close the door. He watches you lock the door as he walks backwards to his van, standing idly next to the driver’s door once he reaches it. You wave at him before disappearing to the back again, flicking the lights on the main floor completely off.

“Earth to Eddie!” Dustin yells, breaking Eddie out of his trance. He turns back to the van and unlocks the doors for everyone to start piling in. “Someone is a bit distracted.” Dustin teases, earning a glare. Edde is met with a chorus of ‘ooo’s and kissing noises when he turns back to the wheel, starting the ignition.

“Shut Up or I'm raising the difficulty of the next campaign!” He's met with immediate silence, smirking to himself as he switches gears and turns up the volume of his radio, driving off into the night.

After dropping everyone off at their respective destinations, Eddie proceeded to lock himself away in his room, thinking of you. You intrigued him beyond belief. He needed to know more about you. Yeah, Black Key Records was definitely going to be Hellfire's new base of operations. As long as that meant getting to see you more often.

》》》

It's been a full month since the club first started holding their campaigns in the basement of BKR. Though they usually meet up every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, today is the first Monday day the club will not be meeting since they finished their most recent campaign last Friday.

It was agreed upon that the club wasn't supposed to meet up today, yet Eddie still managed to find himself making his way to the record store, mid-day on a Monday, in search of his favorite record store employee.

His presence is announced with a chime of the bell above the door. “Welcome In!” A voice pipes up. It was a male coworker of yours, one Eddie had come to know as Marvin. The lanky, blonde pushes his circle glasses up his nose as he looks up from what he's doing at the front counter. “Oh, hey, man.” He greets once he realizes it's Eddie who's come in. “You're here early.”

“Yeah, no meeting today. I just wanted to stop by and actually take a look at the… massive inventory.” Eddie lies.

Marvin nods, “Sounds good. Let me know if you need anything. Metal is over in that corner.” He points, looking over his falling glasses, “I assume that's your poison.” He offers a playful, knowing smirk.

“What gave it away?” Eddie replies sarcastically with a confused look. “Sunny around?” He asks casually as he walks passed the guy behind the counter.

“Well, the strange, little creature has to be around here somewhere. Thing rarely ever leaves.” He lifts his head from his work, “MARCO!”

“POLO!”

“There.” He says and waves his hand in the general direction of where the muffled noise came from.

Eddie lifts a brow with an amused grin on his face and nods. “Got it.” He walks off in the general direction.

Eddie's eyes roam the maze of isles with rows and rows of records, tapes, posters, etc. He's in awe at the sheer mass of items. It's pretty chaotic yet somehow still seems well maintained and put together. The walls are covered with old wallpaper. The store was well lit and had a rich and comforting smell, yet it wasn't suffocating. Overall, you could tell the building was old yet really cared for.

As Eddie walked further into the store, he could hear the sound of humming. He walked through a beaded curtain that separated the main part of the store from a little listening booth. He found you humming to the tune that was loudly playing in your headphones. You wore your famous dark sunglasses over your eyes and a black, faded Dickies t-shirt that was about 4 sizes too big, the ends of the short sleeved shirt reaching your elbows. The baggy material was tucked into a pair of light wash jeans that fit you perfectly. Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t take the opportunity to steal a glance at your butt.

You had one of the ear covers moved back to rest behind your ear as you listened to music through the other. The wire was connected to one of the many record players lined up back here. You were studying the back of the album’s cover as you listened. “Hey, pretty lady.” Eddie interrupts. Startled, you jump, ripping the headphones off your head and throwing them around your neck. Once you realize it's Eddie, you sigh heavily, closing your eyes and putting a hand over your heart.

“Oh my god!” He chuckles at your reaction and raises his hands in surrender, walking all the way through the noisy bead curtain.

“Sorry, cupcake. Scaring you wasn't my intention. I thought you would’ve heard me comin’.” He says with a smug grin, motioning to the still swinging beads behind him. You shake your head, regaining your composure.

“Jesus christ.” You sigh out, laughing away your mini heart attack. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You laugh, smacking his arm lightly. “What are you doing here? It’s still early, isn’t it?” You tilt your head like a curious puppy, melting Eddie’s heart with your cuteness. He looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world of value.

“No game today. Just wanted to stop by and see my favorite record store employee.” He says with a huge grin on his face as he holds eye contact. You squint at him behind your sunglasses, allowing a bright smile to adorn your face.

“Is that so?” You ask. He nods.

“Yeah, Marvin is a great guy, you know.” He responds sarcastically, closing in on you with a flirty smile. You lift your chin and raise your brows.

“Hmm, he must not be that great if you’re back here with me and not up there with him.” You shoot back. He stops once he’s one step away from you, so close you could smell him. He looks down at you with his signature grin. He’s close enough to just barely see your squinting eyes through the dark shades.

Over the past month, flirty interactions like this were considered a standard between you two but never had you been alone like this. This time you had no prying eyes, no teasing quips from the club to separate you two. “I didn’t say he was the one I came to see.”

“It was implied.” you come back without hesitation, playing his game. Eddie breaks eye contact with you to look down at the album cover in your hands. He takes it from you and flips it around, so he can read the front. You reach up to lift your sunglasses off your face to rest them at the top of your head. 

“‘Bad Music For Bad People’, huh?” He raises a brow and looks up at you with his chin still tucked down, a small smirk lingering on his lips. Your face warms a bit at his teasing expression as you bite back a smile. You breathe in and sigh out.

“Yup, new arrival. The Cramps are a go-to band for my ‘Distorting Reality’ section.” The sentence rolls off so easily, so normal, but your words make Eddie tilt his head.

“‘Distorting Reality’.” He repeats. There's a slight pause, one long enough for you to remember what Gary tells you. Your way of thinking is not… normal. You start to internally spiral.

“Oh, uh. Yeah,” your mind is reeling for words to explain. “I, uh, I sort of have a way to organize bands and music in my head… in like… categories… beyond just genre, but also… like… vibe?” Your fluster makes Eddie's grin slowly widen. He finds it adorable. You look down at your feet. “Sorry… I sometimes forget that, you know, not everyone… that I'm a bit,” you bring your hands up and wave and wiggle them next to your head, “different…” Your face carries a small, nervous smile as your eyes go from eye contact to avoiding his eyes. He has a full on smile now, soft and a bit dazed.

“I like different.” He states matter-of-factly. Your eyes find their way back to his, and your small smile grows, shining brightly.

“Really?” You sigh happily, your heart pumping full of hope.

“Tell me more about these categories.” His smile is evident in his voice. The light in your eyes warms his stomach.

“Really?!” You ask excitedly, never have been asked to elaborate your thoughts, these thoughts. He nods. “O-Okay, so, think of them kind of like mixtapes.”

You went on for a good hour, not only explaining your idea of ‘playlists’ but also walking Eddie around the store to show him different albums that would match with what category. You have never been able to talk to anyone for as long as you talked to Eddie. You went on long tangents explaining how you couldn't understand how some people only listen to one genre or artist or how some artists or genres were completely underrated or misinterpreted just because of the masses’ biases. 

Not only did he let you talk, he was actively listening. He would ask questions and build off ideas with you without making you feel like he was cutting you off or making fun of you. Even when he did have to cut you off, he knew how to do it gently, asking you his question or making his comment before letting you resume with what you were saying.

Eventually, your intense music discussion began to die down, for now. “I like listening to you talk about something so passionately.” Eddie smiles widely at you. Your brows shoot up, damn near off your forehead.

“I've never heard that before.” The look of complete shock brings a chuckle out of Eddie.

“Would you like to go out sometime?” You didn't think he could say anything more shocking than his previous sentence, but here you are. You blink rapidly at him a few times, but before Eddie could start to backpeddle, you spoke up.

“Uh, y-yeah. I- I'd love to.” The words fell out of your mouth with very little control, your brain on autopilot. Eddie's smile grows impossibly wider.

“Great. T-That's great. Uh, when are you free?” He asks.

“Everyday! All the time!” Marvin yells from his spot near the register. You both look over to find him eavesdropping up front. He looks over his glasses at you with a raised brow. Though he was a boy just barely a year older than you, he still had a way of acting and looking like a mother. His look one hundred percent screamed ‘please date my daughter, she's lonely.’

The mortified look of betrayal on your face made Eddie break out in a laugh. He nods, “Should I come back after close?”

“Take her now!”

“Marvin!” You whip your head toward your coworker, annoyed. He shrugs, hardly bothered, and goes back to whatever task he's ‘busy’ with. Eddie has to hold in his laugh, it sneaking out as a sharp exhale through his nose. The feeling of Eddie grabbing your hand breaks your glare. He begins pulling you toward the front door.

“Catch ya later, man!” Eddie says to the blonde boy without so much as a glance over his shoulder. You give Marvin a panicked look as you pass him, but all he does is wiggle his fingers in a mischievous wave as you're pulled out the door.

“You eat lunch yet?” Eddie asks as he opens the door of his van for you. You climb into the passenger's seat, again on autopilot.

“Uh, no. Not yet?” He closes the door and jogs over to the driver's side, climbing into his seat.

“Perfect. Let's go eat.” He grins over at you, buckling his seatbelt before leaning down to start up the ignition. 

You two ended up at a diner not to far away, still within the same town center as the record store but a few lights away. “I can't believe you haven't eaten all day. it's almost 3PM.”

“I woke up too late for breakfast and got distracted with the new arrivals.” you'd counter as you arrived at the diner. The lunch outing was spent eating and going on more tangents. Though it started with music, it eventually led to your childhoods and other personal interests. “I was thinking about continuing school after I graduated, but the cons outweighed the pros. I mean I love learning, but the environment, the costs, the stress?” you wave your hand, “not worth it.”

The more you talked and went on about whatever came into conversation, the more Eddie realized how intelligent you are. “You're crazy smart, you know that?” He added when you finally paused to take another bite of your food. You let out a big huff through your nose, shaking your head.

“Not even. I just retain a shit ton of useless information.” You dismiss.

“You retain all this information and then form your own thoughts around it and have the ability to build upon said information. You’re like a book that thinks. It's awesome.” He praises. You can't help but blush. Man, does Eddie really know how to shut you up. After this, you continue to munch on your food in comfortable silence, smiling like dorks at each other every time you catch one another's eyes.

After your late lunch, it's about 4PM and the sun is already beginning to lower thanks to the season. “Would you like to go on an adventure with me?” Eddie asks you as you're walking through the parking lot of the diner and back to his van. You turn your head to look up at him with questioning but enthusiastic eyes.

“Mayybee?” You draw out in a playful but curious tone. He gives you a mischievous grin, staring silently as he opens the door for you to get into the van. You stand there a few seconds, squinting at him to try to intimidate him into telling his secrets but failing. You give up, climb into the van, and let yourself be driven to another undisclosed location.

Eddie drives about 15 minutes out, away from the city center and more into the outskirts of town. You turn to look at him, his eyes focused on the road. “Marvin knows you were the last person I was with and can identify you pretty well, you know.” You throw out there, getting a chuckle out him.

“I promise, I'm not taking you anywhere dangerous nor am I going to hurt you.” He glances over to you for reassurance before focusing back on the road.

Though the situation would be waving huge red flags under any other circumstance, you couldn't help but trust Eddie completely. You didn't even say the sentence actually believing he'd bring you any harm. You had a calm and comfortable feeling in your chest being around Eddie. Nothing could change that feeling about him now.

Another 5 minutes pass by and Eddie pulls off the road once you reach the true outskirts. The van rocks and shifts as it angrily drives over uneven terrain. Within seconds, the van comes to a stop, and Eddie turns off the engine. You try to get a good look through the windshield at your surroundings, but you only catch a glimpse of what looks like a clearing up ahead. “You promise you're not actually a slasher?” you ask nervously. Eddie hops out the van and turns to look at you.

“I guess you'll just have to come and find out.” He brings up his hands while wiggling his fingers at you in a ‘spooky’ way before chuckling and closing the door. Before he can reach your door, you've opened it to let yourself out. You hop down out of the van, squinting at Eddie as he now stands beside you. You close your door, and he takes your hand in his, leading you to the clearing just beyond the tree line ahead.

As soon as you exit the trees, you notice the clearing isn't just a clearing. It's a hidden viewpoint. You wouldn't be able to tell from the road, but you're atop a huge hill just outside of town. Just through the trees that lined the highway was a beautiful and perfect view. Never have you really thought of Hawkins, Indiana as a ‘beautiful’ sight by any means, but this view really put it in a different perspective. Eddie smiles down at you, taking in your 'in awe' reaction. His hand gives yours a light squeeze, causing you to look up at him with the same wide eyed wonder. It makes Eddie's heart feel like flying. He silently leads you a bit further away from the treeline and to a spot where you can sit.

You two sit next to each other, legs criss-crossed, knees knocking. The thought of sitting down on the mushy dirt and grass wasn't so pleasant at first, but you don't want to ruin the moment. As soon as you're sat, though, it's not bad. It's almost nostalgic, and makes you feel like a kid again. Unafraid, fearless, strong. You smile to yourself at how something so small and meaningless brought out such emotion. You stare back out at the view in front of you. “Everything seems so small from up here.” You say softly, entranced.

“Yeah, suddenly everything just feels better up here.” You nod in response. “Whenever I feel myself starting to get too far into my head, I come up here. Seeing this little town from here makes me realize. It reminds me that there's a bigger picture. Whatever's got me down, whatever hurt me, it's all so small now.” Eddie unwinds his legs to stretch them out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other and leaning back on his hands. You stay crisscrossed, intertwining your hands in your lap.

“I don't want to sound any more crazy than I already have, but whenever I feel that way, I disappear into a little compartment in my head. One where I'm happy and at peace. I usually have to do that when I'm alone in my room with some music since I don't have a place like this.” You sigh with a small smile, letting the air around you embrace you in its tranquility.

“Well, now, you do. It can be our place from now on.” You turn to him with an innocent smile and wide eyes. You find him with his head leaned back and his eyes closed. He has a small, calm smile dancing across his lips. The setting sun was warm against his pale skin, but the chilly air contrasted with the golden hue, causing a bit of pink to spot on his cheeks and nose. He looks beautiful.

You wish you could take a picture of him right now, but as you feel yourself starting to stare for a bit too long, you tear your eyes away to look back out at the town. You scoot closer to Eddie and rest your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” The feeling of your head on his shoulder causes him to open his eyes and tilt his head down to look at you. He finds himself strangely at a loss for words. He just smiles a bit wider and follows your gaze to look out on the city.

“Anytime, baby.”

You two sat there in another comfortable silence even after the sun fully set. When a breeze passed by and caused you to shiver at the cool night air, Eddie took that as a queue to go. “Though the view is still just as magical at night, I think it's time we head back. Don't want Marvin worrying now, do we.” He helped you up, and you both went back to the van.

Once you're back on the road, your mood shifts a bit, and you start to get a bit shy. Eddie can sense the shift and glances over at you a bit worried. He reaches over to grab your hands in his. You look over to him, and he throws you a quick smile before looking back at the road. “Are we calling this a date?” You ask as he gains speed on the paved road. Your voice was so small and nervous. Eddie had to fight off the urge to hug you so he could focus on driving. He shrugs.

“Did it go well?” He could see the little nod you gave in response out of the corner of his eye. “Okay,” he smiles, “Then a date it was.” You inhale sharply and try to contain your smile when looking at him but fail, looking away and out your window to let out a huge grin. Your mind runs wild, but you stop yourself from letting the silence go on too long by letting your mouth interrupt your head.

“Does this mean we can do it again?” You ask, hopeful. Eddie lets out a short, breathy laugh and nods.

“Yes. One hundred percent, yes.”

“I like spending time with you.” You let slide out while you have the confidence.

“I love spending time with you. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been able to connect with someone so quickly.” He lets out a sigh of a laugh. “It's like you get me without even trying.” You smile over to him and nod.

“I feel the exact same way.” You two sit in each other's confessions happily for a few seconds before Eddie speaks back up.

“Should I take you home or back to the record shop?” He asks. You let out a little laugh, making Eddie's heart feel light.

“Well, considering they're one in the same, yes.” You reply, looking out the windshield. This causes Eddie to steal a quick glance. His brows furrow, confused.

“You live there?”

“Yeah, the loft up top, the door I have you guys knock on when you're done with your games, that's where I stay.” Eddie lets out a silent ‘oh’, nodding his head as it clicks.

“Makes sense now as to why you always let us go on so late. Also explains why Marvin always says you never leave.” He chuckles. You blush, a bit embarrassed at the second half.

“Fucking Marvin.” You grumble under your breath, bringing another laugh out of Eddie.

“Sounds like a sweet gig, though. I won't lie. If I had a cool, laid back job and could live on property where I could just wake up and go, that's be awesome. I'd probably never leave either.” He says without an ounce of judgement.

“Yeah, well, ever since Gary offered it to me, life has been a whole lot easier. He looks out for me all the time.” Eddie nods.

“Well, if he's that good to you, I can't wait to meet him one day.” You blush, turning to hide your face, looking out the window.

“Yeah, he's awesome. He may not fully get me and my… differences, but he's always been super kind. Even fended off some bullies for me back in middle school.” Eddie's brows shot up, and he glances between you and the road a few times.

“Who the fuck would dare to hurt you?” He asks, shocked and a bit heated. You shake your head and let out a chuckle.

“Some asshole middle schoolers. Damn near all middle schoolers are assholes. I was an eager student who got perceived as a show off for raising my hand in class. I was also a loner cause I was ‘weird’.” You throw up air quotes with one hand, “Usually my rants and tangents and use of sunglasses both indoors and out to hide from bright lights aren't well received traits of mine. As an adult I've learned that not everyone wants to hear me theorize for hours about how dragons may have been real.” You let out a small laugh and shrug, “I was a little too different, and that created an easy target.” You sigh, melting back in your seat releasing the negativity. You smile back over to Eddie. “That's over now. She's had her ups and downs, but I'm in a good place now. I'll be damned if I let those dickheads continue to affect me.” Eddie smiles at this.

“I've always been the punching bag for bullies because of my differences, but I, too, got to my ‘fuck them all’ stage in life. Started punching back, and now I can't get enough of myself.” He shakes his locks around, dramatically flipping his hair. You laugh. God, does he love that sound.

Eddie pulls into the parking lot of the record store shortly after. The lights are all still on inside, contrasting to the dark evening. Marvin could be seen walking around inside. You look over to your intertwined hands then up to Eddie.

“Would you like to come inside?” you ask timidly. Eddie smiles and shrugs, nodding.

“Sure, I got time.” You smile at each other, exciting the van at the same time. Eddie opens the door and allows you to enter first.

“Sorry, I was gone for most the day.” You start before Marvin can say anything.

“No, no. Don't apologize.” Marvin dismisses, "Did you have a good time?” He asks, pushing up his glasses. You and Eddie share a smile.

“A great time.” You replied. “Do you need help with anything? I was gonna show Eddie upstairs.” Eddie looks a little taken aback but recovers quickly. He didn't realize you wanted to show him your place. Marvin waves a hand.

“Nah, Sun, you're good. I'll just be chillin’ down here until close.” You nod and wave Eddie to follow you as you start walking towards the back.

“Thanks, Marv. Let me know if you need anything!”

“Just don't be too loud! We are still during business hours, remember!” He shoots back as you round the corner.

“Marvin!” you yell back. His mischievous laughter could be heard echoing throughout the store. You lead Eddie to your door, the same one he's been knocking on for the past month. You open the door. “Welcome to my lair.” You say, leading him up the stairs. 

When you reach the top of the stairs, Eddie is met with the sight of a full studio apartment. “Luckily, I had a cleaning day over the weekend, so it's not horrible.” You say with a laugh. Eddie nods.

“Wow.” He takes in the sight. It's basic, essentially four walls with exposed beams and framing at the ceiling, but you've made it your home. Some handmade, wood framing was used to separate the different ‘spaces’. 

Your living space was the closest thing to the entrance, your bed on the right and a couch, table, and music station on the left. All your furniture looked to be hand-me-downs or thrifted. None of them were matching sets, but they combined to create a homey, comfy look.

The wooden framing was used to separate your living space from what looked like a bathtub on the right and a dining or kitchenette area on the left. Though it wasn't much, it was still leagues ahead of his own room at the back of he and Wayne's trailer, and it is yours. “It's nice.” He compliments. You shrug, looking around the space.

“It's probably not what you were expecting. It's no five star hotel, but it's all mine.” You smile proudly. Eddie nods.

“I wasn't expecting anything, but it's definitely you.” He smiles over at you. “And I mean that in the best possible way.” He walks further into the room, going over to take a seat on your little couch. Your cheeks warm, and you follow him to your ‘living room’. You walk over to your music. 

“Anything you want to listen to?” You scan over your library of records and tapes. “You look over to him and squint, “Dio, perhaps?” you ask with a raised brow, referencing the back of his famous jean vest. He gives you a smirk.

“Though I'm never opposed to a little metal, how about you pick something?” You nod and continue scanning. The concentrated look on your face is utterly adorable to Eddie. He finds himself staring.

“Well, you've shown me your special place, so how about I show you one of mine. We can go with ‘Sunny's Mix Vol. 2’.” You offer, holding up a mixtape with black scribbles in your handwriting across the front. He offers a calm grin and a nod.

“I'm interested.” You smile at him in return and pop the tape into the stereo tucked under your record player. As soon as the fast paced drums of the first song starts coming through the speakers, you can't help but bop your head. You stand slowly, trying to contain the overwhelming urge to dance around. Eddie smiled widely over at you as you stare down at the stereo. He stands up and starts to dance to the music with a bit more energy than you. Your eyes find him as soon as you catch a glimpse of him standing in your peripheral. A big smile takes over your face, and you let the music start to take you over.

Eddie closes the distance between you two and grabs your hands, pulling you away from the stereo and towards the middle of your makeshift dance floor, the empty space between your ‘living room’ and bed. Your shared dance moves are less than graceful, more akin to weird jerking movements, but totally carefree and fun nonetheless.

Eddie has let loose completely and is dancing like a man possessed. The goofy moves cause you to laugh, Eddie succeeding in his unspoken goal to hear that sound again. You can only mimic his crazy movements, closing your eyes and dancing in circles. You two even shimmy back and forth with each other like the idiotic dorks you are.

The next song on the tape was spent dancing in a similar fashion. Then a few air guitars and imaginary microphones were added throughout the song following that one. Some of the songs on your mixtape were familiar to Eddie. Some songs were new, but all were going to be held near and dear to his heart from that moment on as they were all now known as yours.

When you get to the last few songs, they began to slow, allowing Eddie the perfect opportunity to close some distance between you both. He takes your hand in his and begins to slow dance with you, rocking side to side. His height makes him have to tilt his chin down to look at you while you're this close. The ends of his long waves tickle the sides of your face. The feeling makes your heart jump out of your chest.

Eddie didn't know the song currently playing, but he loved to hear you hum and sing along to it. “I don't mean to sound like a fool here, but I feel so much for you.” He speaks up during the last instrumental break in the song you were swaying to. You smile up at him.

“In what way?” You ask as the song faded into the next. He sighs, starting to get a bit red in the face. 

Oh, thinkin’ about our younger years. The stereo rang out. ‘Heaven’. How fitting.

“In the way that I feel like this is how I want to spend the rest of my life.” His bold yet shy confession nearly floors you. Before you could muster a coherent sentence, he continues while he still has the courage. “I know this is only our first date, and, christ, I hope it's far from the last, but I feel like I have this unexplainable connection with you.” He looks up from your lips to pour into your eyes. “I don't want to scare you away by jumping to any conclusions here, but I've never had such a compelling feeling to tell someone how I feel.” His eye contact and his words make it hard for you to hold back tears. You're getting overwhelmed, his voice cutting straight to your heart. When Eddie sees the wetness forming in your eyes, he stops swaying, his own eyes widening. He looks like the sweetest puppy that just got caught getting into something he shouldn't have. “Uh, I'm sorry. That was a bit too forward wasn't it.” He starts to pull away, but you don't let him. You shake your head.

“No, no. I'm sorry. I just,” you let out a big sigh, trying to collect yourself. “Sorry, I just, I feel a lot and that's just, wow,” you let out a sigh, a small smile forming. “I feel the same, and I'm so happy you said something first.” you let out a small, airy laugh. “I don't think I'd be able to handle pining over you for ages, waiting for one of us to confess.” You roll your eyes and grin widely, a matching one finding Eddie's face as you spend a few seconds staring into each other's eyes. He lets out a chuckle, looking down.

“It's genuinely crazy how you've managed to make me forget that I've existed this long without knowing you from the start.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Is this what it's like to find your soul mate?” he says, thinking out loud. You giggle and nod.

“I think so. You feel like my person.” You smile brightly up at him. His eyes meet yours once again. It's a miracle that his knees didn't send him tumbling to the floor. The look in your eyes makes his insides melt into something warm. He returns a big, toothy grin.

“You are definitely my person.” You're smiling so hard your cheeks start to hurt.

Isn't too hard to see, we're in heaven. You have this overwhelming need to jump up and down, roll on the floor, and kick your feet around. His cute smile and adoring eyes just have that effect on you. Somehow you manage to remain standing, but you do let out a few bounces on the balls of your feet.

Eddie's gaze lowers to your adorably scrunched nose. The excitement you're trying so hard and failing to hide gets a laugh out of him. Though the urge and desire is very heavy, Eddie keeps himself from diving in to kiss your lips, instead pulling you into his chest and hugging you tight, burying his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

His arms wrap around your shoulders, and you wrap your arms around his middle. His closeness makes your insides burst. Your brain can't help but scream at how good he smells. He feels so warm and safe. If you died right now, you'd go out happy. Neither of you want to pull away, so you spend the entirety of the next song just holding each other. When the groovy tempo of Fleetwood Mac starts up, you can't help but start bopping in your hug. You're just too happy to let the beat pass over without effect. Eddie chuckles and only holds you tighter, swaying to the upbeat tempo with you in his arms.

When the last song on your mixtape starts, you can't help but giggle at the irony of this sweet moment combining with the Bob Marley tune. Your head bounces slightly against his chest as Eddie chuckles, listening to the lyrics. The clear sound of his heartbeat and laugh right next to your ear makes your eyes close, body filling with the warmth happiness brings. You softly hum to the melodies of the love song as this night fades into the rest of your life shared with none other than your forever person, Eddie Munson.

[chunkypossum]

@azrisweek || DAY 6: Changes || 11k words

CW: These first two chapters aren't so bad but consider not picking this one up if you have problems with blood, gore and heavy shit like that.... I am rewatching Hannibal and it is quickly taking this fic in a direction I wasn't sure I was going to go in.... not saying I will, but it might become more of a horror than it was originally intended to be The long list of things Eris had found to be grateful for over the years, not so surprisingly, didn't exactly feature a quiet, unassuming existence. The thrill in what he was demanded pride and exhibition, and gods was he good at playing that game. Well, he had been good at it. Now, as much as he loathed to admit it, there was an odd satisfaction to be found in the simplicity he had agreed to. Unfortunately, as Eris quickly finds out you can't always have the brutes you want... and eat them too.

Azriel doesn't want a lot out of life. His abusive father sold him to the underground as a teen to pay off debt and that's all he has known ever since. Night after night, fight after fight. When he witnessed something he was definitely not supposed to, a part of him was changed forever. Azriel chases dreams he never thought he would have and finds himself facing choices that might force him to change more drastically than he ever thought possible.

F I C

P L A Y L I S T

SPECIAL shoutout to @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee and @born-to-riot for their eyes and thoughts and MAJOR help with this fic. It struggled coming out of me and thanks to them I have such a better vision for it.

READ CHAPTER 1 AND 2 ON AO3

The ceiling was arched in carved gray stone. Archaic scenes lining the walls and ceiling depicted men being torn apart by beasts, babies thrown into fires and women dancing naked in great forests. Some of the women were smiling, and some of them were screaming. It was another round room bookend by hallways. Both the hallways and the round center were lined on all sides with Iron doors. Stamped designs in the metal directly contradicted the harshness of the stone reliefs with innocent-looking animals, fields of flowers, and night skies. Designed to put people at ease, the peaceful art stood out in the otherworldly glow of the greenish light emanating from the wall scones, hiding the horror of the stone from all those but with the sharpest eyes.  Where the party went to die. Once-upon-a-time it had been a favorite of Eris’, mostly because the party wasn’t dying for him, nothing ever did. The Abyss was a depraved seduction all its own. Many doors were shut, but some more remained open, either vacant or because the occupants enjoyed putting on a show.   Taking his time, Eris let his senses open up, relishing in the past for a lingering moment or two. He marked the closed doors where faint screaming could be heard from the other side of the near soundproof material, both in ecstasy and … something else. His hands rested easily in the pockets of his jeans keeping him from reaching out and peeking behind half-open doors to the treats waiting within. 

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Holla at ya boi if you want on or off the Azris tag train : @talibunny30 @iftheshoef1tz @born-to-riot @fell-in-luvs @fieldofdaisiies @aktrain @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @secret-third-thing @acourtofladydeath @pippsmcgee @youvereachedthenearest-lovergirl @baileybird71 @skyesayshi @yanny-77 @areyoudreaminof @unanswered-stars @futurehunt @ninthcircleofprythian @matrixsss @going-through-shit @c-starstuff-man0 @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @krowiathemythologynerd @cauldronblssd @hieragalbatorixdottir @yourlazykitkat @hellolordling @climbthemountain2020 @christeak @lilah-asteria  

[o-wyrmlight]

Chapter 13 of A Toast to the Pigs, an AU that attempts to thoroughly explore the concept of Harry Du Bois not waking up in Martinaise with amnesia. Today, we talk to Evrart and Harry gets triggered.

Warning: Self-harm is depicted in the latter part of the chapter. Always remember to check the tags for upcoming chapters, as I tend to add tags as I go.

The first time he touches you, it's to pull you out of incoming traffic. You're drunk and supposed to be following a lead. Traffic today is high to gather for a festival around Central Jamrock's lake. You haven't been to a festival in years and don't give a shit about them anymore. You don't have anyone to go to a festival with anyway. Jean saves your life (more or less), but your first instinct is to punch him in the fucking face. His hand around your arm pulls away from you, leaving the flesh beneath simmering with coals. Your flesh is burning but there's nothing to cause it. The phantom sensation of his handprint lingers, blaring alarms through every inch of your body. Jean yelps and holds his face, cradling his palm against his jaw. He doesn't understand why you attacked him. He just saved your life. Good. He will never know. You jab a finger at him and scream. "Touch me again," you snap, pushing him. "Fucking touch me again and see what happens. I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" You never apologize. The last person who touched you kindly was Dora Ingerlund. Everything since then has just been pain and betrayal. It's dangerous. You need to protect yourself before you catch fire.

In the meantime, Kim put a file filled with pedantic, repetitive numericals away, slotting it neatly back into place. He braced his arm against the door, his brain half-mush. It was as he was closing it that he noticed it—the off-color strip stuck to the inside of the door.

“…Detective,” he said, slipping out his pocket knife and beginning to pry the tape off. “I found something that might interest you.”

His knife left tiny scrapes in the paint of the metal. Bits of tape remained stuck. It didn’t need to be a delicate job.

“…What?”

Kim glanced toward the watery voice. The water was still running, hissing into the bottom of the basin. Harry’s splotchy face, red with alcohol and sick with stress, squinted blearily back at him. His right arm was still bleeding and just beginning to scab over, ugly lines cradled by red welts.

Kim… didn’t ignore this, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he peeled the rest of the paper off of the door, folding the tape neatly over the edges. “’Remember, Leo,’” he read, “’Evrart’s shoes; Special Whirling borscht; Water Evrart’s plants; sweep office floors; more banners.’”

He took out his notebook, slipping the note inside and making a notation. “The Whirling borscht sounds interesting, no? I don’t know. It seemed like something that might interest you.”

“…Sure.” Harry’s lungs rattled as he breathed in deeply. He turned back toward the sink and braced himself against the edge, arms cradled close to his chest. His shoulders rose and fell in a staggered attempt to keep tempo—in, out. In. Out. Slow and steadying.

“One hundred. Ninety-five. Ninety. Eighty-five. The furies are at home in the mirror. It is their address. Even the clearest water, if deep enough, can drown. Never think to surprise them. Your face approaching ever so friendly is the white flag they ignore. There is no truce with the furies. A mirror’s…”

His Volta do Mar stalled on his tongue, and for a while, he just stood there. He breathed. Finally, he cupped his hands beneath the still-running water and splashed his face with it, coughing. Harry ran his arm beneath the faucet one final time before shutting it off.

[starkwing-co]

This is October is #Waretober!

Day 1&2: Favorite character

I'm gonna do a rapid fire of my old WarioWare art (that has never been posted here!) with some new stuff sprinkled here and there if school doesn't affect my schedule and mental health too much...

First up, some of my first pieces I made on my pc and graphic tablet back in summer of 2022 featuring... the Gamer Boi, 9-Volt! (who would've guessed?)

I tried my best at emulating the official art styles of Get It Together! (Ko Takeuchi's classic vector and personal sketchy Character Gallery watercolor drawings)

But the main reason for me to make these was to showcase 9-Volt's pocket and V-signing in action! (why no official depictions of the boi exist doing this gesture? It makes SO much sense)

And I also wanted to include Fronk in my new GiT render since my pipe dream for the game was devs adding dlc with new characters and Fronk would join his 'owner' after a small extra campaign with new levels to form a duo and help 9-Volt turn around and hop in the air a bit

(don't ask why, in my headcannon Fronks, like the Pokémon Porygon, are living computer bugs able to shift between pure data and a plasticy body with no bones and organs, they can change their size at will and stick to any surface

[my-castles-crumbling]

Chapter 9- Clandestine

Guys, I've discovered Lana Del Ray. So if this chapter is a bit emotional, blame her. Okay, CW: LOTS of dysphoria, as well as a lot of discussions about binding, safe binding, and depictions of unsafe binding. Blink-and-you-miss-it misgendering. Some quick medical stuff. Anxiety, depression. Hints at self-harm, but not really.

Second year was not much different from first, if Regulus was honest. Rooming with Barty and Evan. Walks with Sirius.

He didn’t feel older. Classes weren’t much harder. He enjoyed being back. He felt safe.

But he struggled in some ways. Namely, with his body, which still insisted on betraying him daily.

Being in a room with Barty and Evan was wonderful in many ways. It was a reminder that he was considered a boy, here. That people looked at him and saw a boy. That he fit in with the other boys.

Bit it also made him ache, in a way that was difficult to describe. He watched Barty and Evan continue to change in the open room as he shed his clothes in the safety of the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for far too long, changing into shirt after shirt, wondering if he could actually see a small curve on his chest, or if it was his brain playing tricks on him.

Sometimes he had to sit on his hands to resist the urge to claw at his very skin. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt himself. It was just that his body kept changing, kept getting worse, and he sometimes felt the primal urge to just–

Sirius and Pandora and Dorcas were so well-meaning. They listened to him rant and rage and scream. They helped him on days when he just felt wrong, like a square peg in a round hole. They comforted him.

He’d taken to hiding the rock Potter had given him for his birthday in his pocket. When he got anxious or particularly nauseous when looking in the mirror, it helped to worry it in his hands. Flip it over and over. Feel the smooth surface. It was calming, somehow. It allowed him to focus on something else, anything else, besides the way his body didn’t fit.

He slept in the bandages almost every night. He knew it was bad for him. He felt the way his chest bruised and his back ached and the rashes and scratches burned. But he found that he needed it. He felt so invalid, like he wasn’t truly a boy without them. If he thought too much about it, he found himself close to tears- why did he have to go through this just to achieve the same feeling most people naturally had?

But he pushed that resentment down, and just re-tightened the bandages daily, forcing himself not to think about it too much.

It could be worse, after all.

--

“Did you hear?” Evan asked, one October evening as the three of them lay lazily in bed avoiding homework.

“That you’re a prat? Yes,” Barty replied lazily, dodging the pillow that Evan threw.

Regulus snorted.

“No, that Potter is replacing DeSilva this year on Gryffindor,” Evan clarified, scoffing a bit.

It had been a huge topic of conversation amongst anyone who followed the Quidditch games- Gryffindor had always been alright, but their Chasers had been lacking. A good Chaser would make them a problem, especially to Slytheirn, whose Keeper was shit. People had wondered why DeSilva hadn’t been kicked off in previous years, but Gryffindors were too nice, and had the policy that once you got a position, you kept it, as long as you didn’t do something morally wrong.

Of course, Regulus had watched Potter play. So, he knew they were a bit screwed, now.

So, why was he excited at the news?

“Potter’s not bad,” he commented, trying to keep his voice even.

“We’re fucked. Between Flint and Goyle, there’s no way,” Barty grumbled.

“Flint’s gotten better at covering the right hoop,” Evan said reasonably. “Too bad Goyle’s captain, or they could kick him off. He’s such shit. But I heard his daddy bought the whole team new brooms, so we’re stuck with him until he graduates.”

Barty grunted in frustration. “Maybe he’d catch the snitch if we charm it to make whistling noises. Always thought he followed Crabbe around like a puppy.”

“Next year, he’ll graduate and Reg will be Seeker. Then, we’ll stand a chance,” Evan shrugged. “Until then, I’m betting on Ravenclaw. Pandora says their Seeker is decent.”

Regulus nodded vacantly, reaching into his pocket to turn the rock over and over.

Privately, he was betting on Gryffindor.

--

Pain.

All he felt was pain.

Crawling up and down his ribs, punching at his back, stabbing at his chest.

It was jarring. Scary. Terrifying.

It hurt to move, hurt to moan, hurt to breathe.

He’d never woken up to pain like this.

He needed help, and he knew it. But his entire being shied away from waking Barty and Evan. He didn’t want to bother them (both were not ones to be awoken before absolutely necessary) and he was terrified they’d ask to see or touch where it hurt.

But as he tried desperately to sit up only to fall back in a groan of agony, his gulps of air causing shooting aches, he knew there was nothing for it.

“Help,” he croaked, even the movement of his talking searing his entire torso.

He had to call twice more before Evan’s grumpy-but-concerned face stuck through the curtains. He immediately went pale. “Reg? What- what’s wrong?”

But he was starting to feel faint. He couldn’t escape the pain, and he was starting to feel almost claustrophobic with it. Like he could either breathe and hurt or hurt less and have no oxygen. There was no way out.

His head spun. He tried desperately to stay conscious. He couldn’t let them see. What if they saw?

The last thing he remembered before passing out was Evan yelling for Barty.

--

“You fucking idiot.”

He opened his eyes to sunshine and mumbles and his chest feeling far too exposed and empty, even with the blanket covering him. The bandages were gone. “That’s my line to you,” he sleepily shot back to his brother, blinking, trying to get Sirius’s face into focus.

“Not when you break your own ribs,” Sirius said roughly. Admittedly, Sirius looked like he was the one who should be in the hospital bed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and the deep circles under his eyes made him look almost skeletal. His hands, which had wrapped themselves around Regulus’s forearm, all had fingernails that were bitten down raw. He looked distraught. “I gave you that fucking bandage to help you, Regulus. How tight–?”

“It’s not your fault, idiot,” He murmured, looking down. Perhaps he had been keeping the bandage a bit too tight.

“I didn’t know,” Sirius whispered, looking like he was trying to convince both of them of the fact. “I had no idea that- that this could happen.”

Regulus chuckled, ignoring the small twinge in his healed chest. “Same. I suppose Pomfrey is pissed?”

“I convinced her not to owl mother,” Sirius shrugged. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You…erm…might have to lay off the bandage for a while. Pomfrey said something about permanent damage to your back. If you….y’know…keep it up as much as you have.”

Remulus blinked, trying and failing to fight against the despair creeping into his brain as the tears formed. “So…so….” he mumbled, unsure about how to put his thoughts into words.

“Maybe…only a few hours a day? Or…a bit looser?” Sirius suggested hesitantly.

Regulus balked, feeling the anger and fear and disgust all bubble within him, his self-control wavering. “And then what, Sirius? How do I explain to Barty and Evan that I’ve suddenly got tits?”

He felt the nausea build within his stomach and he almost choked, picturing for just a moment having to walk around with an unbound chest. Picturing the looks. The reactions. The disgust.

“You…you don’t have…” Sirius argued weakly, looking as if he truly had no idea what to say.

“I do! I do, and there isn’t a thing I can do about it, because our parents will never let me take the potion. So I’m stuck like this until I turn seventeen!” Regulus said loudly, allowing some of his carefully-controlled anger to boil over. “And you tell me, how many people in Hogwarts would honestly be okay rooming with me, knowing that? Who thinks that’s normal?” Sirius sighed, looking helpless.

“You are normal, Reg. There’s nothing about you that’s–that’s bad or wrong.”

“Tell that to our parents,” Regulus spat, turning away from Sirius a bit. “Tell that to my body.”

Sirius inhaled a bit. “Just….just promise me you’ll keep it a bit looser, okay? I can’t…I can’t bear it if something were to happen to you.”

The genuinely terrified look on his face was what broke Regulus from his anger. He deflated, allowing the defensiveness to flow out of him. “Alright,” he murmured, allowing Sirius to pull him into a hug. “That hurts, you prat,” he whispered as Sirius squeezed him tightly.

But when Sirius made to let go, he felt sad, as if he wished his brother hadn’t let go.

--

Regulus stayed in the Hospital overnight that night. Something about 'making sure his blood vessels were okay', or whatever.

His friends visited, and he reassured them that he had been out the night before practicing Quidditch (true) and he must have hurt himself during a particularly crazy dive (false). Barty and Evan seemed to buy it, but Dorcas and Pandora gave him maddeningly disbelieving looks throughout their visit.

It was a different visitor, though, that made him much more nervous.

Remus Lupin entered the Hospital Wing late the second night, definitely after curfew, and certainly after Pomfrey had gone to bed. He made Regulus emit a small yelp of shock when he showed up, as he hadn’t been expecting the taller boy to show up at all, let alone at such an hour.

“It’s just me, sorry,” Remus muttered, as if he often visited Regulus at midnight in the Hospital Wing. “Sorry, it’s just arrived, or I would’ve been sooner,” he continued vaguely, waving a small package around.

Regulus eyed it curiously.

“I….I need to tell you something,” Remus continued, sitting gently on Regulus’s bed. Regulus pulled the covers over his chest more securely, a bit nervous about how close someone else was while he was so….exposed.

“Go on,” he nodded, wondering what was so important that Remus had to sneak into the Hospital in the dead of night. “Has Sirius done something stupid?”

Remus snorted. “No…Sirius wanted to tell you himself, but…” Remus trailed off, and Regulus momentarily worried Sirius had gone and gotten hurt or something, but then Remus met his eyes. “I was there. Last night when they brought you in.”

Regulus felt his heart sink. He’d been so nervous that Barty and Evan would have seen too much when he was brought in. He hadn’t even thought about another student being there already.

“I…I came in at around 4:30…with a migraine,” Remus murmured.

He really did get a lot of migraines, Regulus thought briefly.

“Sirius came with me. So…we were already there. When you came in.” Remus looked a bit awkward as he spoke. As if he wasn’t sure how much to reveal. “They made your friends wait outside. But Sirius refused. And I was…well, I couldn’t leave.” He looked apologetic, now. “They….they healed you. And then…Sirius got very upset, and…well, you should know he did everything possible to protect you. He argued with Pomfrey and Slughorn for a good ten minutes about contacting your parents. He won, in the end. Well, you know how stubborn he is.” Remus shrugged a bit awkwardly.

Regulus waited quietly for the other shoe to drop. He had a sinking feeling, from how Remus was speaking and acting, that there was more to it.

“You should know, Regulus…I’d already guessed. Before last night,” Remus finally sighed, meeting Regulus’s gaze.

His heart sank. He’d guessed? He’d known?

“How?” he whispered. If Sirius had told, he would…he didn’t know how…

“Sirius talked about you, in our first year,” Remus shrugged. “He mentioned…well, he mentioned a sister.”

Both Remus and Regulus winced at that.

“And then he came back from Christmas and he insisted that he’d only ever had a brother. I’m guessing that’s when you…?” Remus asked gently, raising his eyebrows a bit.

Regulus nodded.

“Yeah, so…I tried to ask, but he didn’t seem to be willing to talk about it and…dunno, it’s not my business, is it? So I figured I'd let it go,” Remus shrugged. As if it was the simplest assumption in the world. That it wasn’t his business, so he should just let it be.

Regulus was again overwhelmed by the feeling of thankfulness for Remus Lupin. He was so unassuming…so kind. He’d known (or guessed) for years and had said nothing. Because he’d guessed, rightfully, that Regulus would be uncomfortable with it.

“But it’s my business now, Regulus, because Sirius is going a bit spare,” Remus said a bit louder, looking stressed. “He said…I mean, feel free to tell me to fuck off, but…he said you’re using a bandage for your…?” he used his hand to gesture to his own chest.

Regulus nodded, looking down. “There’s a potion,” he found himself volunteering, strangely comfortable talking about it with Remus. “But I can’t take it. Mother and Father…they’d probably rather I was dead,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Barty and Evan don’t know and….I don’t…they can’t. So this is what I have.”

Remus studied him for a moment, then handed him a package. “You know there are people like you in the Muggle world too, right? My mum’s Muggle, so I was raised in both.”

He shrugged. He’d never really thought about it. “I guess…sure.”

“Well…what do you think they do? Surely they can’t take a potion,” Remus said patiently, like a Professor trying to talk a student through a difficult question.

“They cry?” Regulus volunteered, snorting at his own humor.

Remus smiled a bit. “Well, probably. But also, they have other options.”

“Like?” Regulus asked, feeling a strange bubble of hope in his chest.

“Well, some of them take medicine. It’s like potions for Muggles,” Remus shrugged. “Some of them just….cut things off.”

“What?” Regulus yelped loudly.

They both realized his mistake and whipped their heads around to Pomfrey’s door, but they heard no stirring.

“You’re fucking with me, surely,” he mumbled a bit quieter. How on Earth did Muggles actually survive without accidentally killing themselves?

“Nah,” Remus grinned. “I have a….cousin, I think? She told me about it.”

Regulus gaped for a minute before looking down at the package. “So, what’s in here? A knife? Gonna help me chop off my–”

Remus scoffed. “Sirius would kill me. Plus, Muggles have professionals that do that. No, she also told me about those,” he said, gesturing to the package. “I wrote her for one this morning. Said it was for a friend.” He shrugged.

Even more confused, Regulus ripped open the package to find–

“Is this a fucking bra?” he asked, barely controlling his embarrassment and anger. He almost threw the offending garment across the room in disgust.

“What? No!” Remus said, shaking his head vehemently.

It…looked like a strange mix of a tank top and a sports bra. But, it was missing some of the things Regulus remembered from seeing his mother’s bras. There were no cups, no small hooks, no lace or femininity. Instead, there was just a zipper on each side. And it was…less stretchy? The material had give, but it was a firmer stretch. Like it wasn’t meant to give much leeway.

“It’s a binder,” Remus shrugged. “Muggles use them. They kind of….” he gestured to his own chest again, “suck it all in.”

Regulus stared at the fabric for a few moments. “There are things that are meant for that?” he asked, though it was more out of wonder. Clearly, there were.

“Yeah, so…this is better than what you were using before because it’s meant for that purpose. And these zippers here,” Remus pointed at the two zippers on each side, “loosen it when you need a break. So you don’t end up back here.”

Regulus laughed, half-shocked and half-ecstatic. “Why did you do this for me?”

Remus gave him a weird look again. “Well….first, Sirius has been driving himself crazy. All he wants to do is to help you. To make sure you’re happy. And safe.”

Regulus felt a pang of guilt at that.

“But also….” Remus continued, looking emotional, himself, now. “I…secrets….secrets are hard. And I can…I can…well, I can imagine what it might feel like. To have a secret that you’re so…so scared about people finding out. But it’s…it’s a part of you, and you can’t change it.”

He looked so genuine. So empathetic. So understanding. Regulus swallowed thickly, trying not to let any tears fall.

Remus sighed, “It’s hard, erm, I imagine…when you have a secret like that. And if you can find something that helps…people who support you…I would think that would make it…so much easier. Right?”

There was emotion there. Raw and real, and Regulus had a feeling Remus had his own experiences with secrets. But he was so thankful to have Remus accept him and help him with his own that he decided not to push. For now.

--

Guys I can't with this chapter. Remus is just so amazing and we love him. Read the full WIP or leave comments or kudos here!