#and then go back to school once they’re stable

[imagine-too-many-books]

Imagine Annabeth and Percy have a kid early, unplanned and it kinda fucks with their finances so Percy drops out of school to get a job so he can care for the kid and support Annabeth in school. At first he gets a job teaching kids sword fighting but then he hears about underwater welding which pays well because it’s dangerous but Percy is a child of the sea so it’s much less so for him. His boss is even willing to give him flexible hours which means Annabeth doesn’t have to take their kid to class anymore and they can actually afford daycare (why does is it the price of a mortgage nowadays???). A huge financial burden is lifted and Percy doesn’t mind the work so it’s good all the way around.

Fast forward to when Annabeth is done her masters in architecture and lands a job at a top firm. They’ve got savings and have Annabeth’s income to rely on. Percy heads back to school and finishes a degree in marine biology, going on to research some really niche topics like how underwater welding impacts the environment and shifting from there until he’s a well known expert in the field.

Just them finding their way. Supporting each other and landing on their feet no matter what

[leclucklerc]

Something Immortal CL16 - 01. Fate

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne loves his kids. He really do. To the point he's going to buy his son a whole ass Formula One team.

Word Count: 5.6K

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It’s a fairytale-like story where a billionaire stumbled upon a baby – fresh out of her mother’s womb, still red and wrinkled – on his doorstep.

There’s a note, written by someone who he can faintly recognize as one of his one-night stands months ago. A messy note with an almost unreadable handwriting declaring that she doesn’t want to have any responsibility for this baby. That as the sperm donor, now it’s his responsibility to take care of the child.

He stared at the note before blue eyes turned their way toward the baby once again. And then, as if the baby recognized his stare, blearily eyes blinked.

It was at that moment that the man fell in love with the baby in front of him.

It was also the start of Bruce Wayne and y/n Wayne’s story.

Y/n understands that her father is not a perfect man.

He had made many wrong choices, choices that he believed were the best but in reality, it’s the choice that ended up doing more hurt than comfort. 

Communication is not his forte, as well as baring his emotion to those around him. There are many instances where her father intended to say one thing but, in the end, the words that escaped his mouth are more biting. More blunt. More heartless.

She knows it’s normal for someone to have a problem conveying their emotions. But in their family? In their family where there are far too many misunderstandings and far more unstable emotions as well as the tendency to take their own conclusion without consulting with anyone?

Well.

Jason used to call her the perfect child. The only child that grew up within the walls of the Wayne manor that ended up with a stable emotion and right mind. That she’s the perfect princess that Bruce Wayne always wanted. Unlike him, goes unheard. You’re the favorite, the one he favors the most, the one that he loves the most, goes unheard. Unlike him, once again, goes unheard.

It’s a bit funny to hear the man say that, because all her life, y/n is sure that she’s the least favorite child.

When she was a child, Dick had always been the golden boy. The perfect partner for Batman when they’re wearing masks and a charming happy child off mask. It’s a bit petty, but there was a time in y/n’s life when she felt a lot of resentment for the older. After all, she’s Bruce’s biological daughter, she’s the child that fell into Bruce’s life first, and yet-

And yet why didn’t he spend more time with her? Why didn’t he always explicitly forbid her to venture through the night like he and Dick?

Why was she never enough?

Of course, that resentment was short-lived because it’s Dick. Dick with his playful laughs and sunshine smile. Dick who always held her hands, guiding her away into some new adventure that he had created a mere minutes prior. Dick is the best big brother anyone could ever asked for. He always made time for her – even to play with her dolls or play pretend – always took care of and protected her in school, and always prioritized her over anything in his life – even Robin.

It’s hard to hate Dick, even after his huge fight with Bruce and his moving out of the Wayne manor. It’s hard to hate Dick, even though he had only hugged her in the middle of the night, muttering that he couldn’t stand living in the manor anymore, that B is beyond reasoning, and disappeared the next day.

It was hard to accept, that her perfect big brother suddenly disappeared from her life. That she was back to being the only child. That the only contact that her big brother made was the occasional phone calls or the screaming match that she sometimes heard from the cave.

What if she also wants to live with her big brother?

What if she also missed Dick?

Maybe that’s why Jason had always been so special to her. An older brother that Bruce found whilst in the middle of stealing Batmobile’s tires. She knows that Jason is not perfect. He has a potty mouth and often says rude things in a fit of anger. His temper was also extraordinarily short, and a bit unpredictable.

But Jason always tries.

He had always tried to be the older brother that y/n needed in her lonely life. He had always tried to make up all of his brash personality and short fuse. He had always tried to apologize first, always tried to keep up with all of her hobbies and interests. Always tried to be there for her. An older brother who often read her to sleep and talked sense to her father. An older brother who fills in the huge gap that Dick left behind. 

An older brother who had promised her that he would always be right by her side. That he will be there during her dance recital and her university graduation. That he will be there during her first date to give her lover a shovel talk. That he will always be there to make up for the lack of her father and their oldest brother’s presence.

To be the perfect older brother for her.

An older brother who died.

Y/n love for cars started when Jason stole one of Bruce’s Ferrari.

It’s a custom—a vintage beauty in the color of midnight and the only one that exists in the world. Her dad received it years ago as a thank-you for his massive investment in the company. Y/n knows that it’s one of her dad’s favorite cars. He rarely used it, only for special occasions, and he often came to the garage and polished it personally.

Most of your siblings shared that sentiment. Even those who don’t really care about cars appreciate their beauty.

So it’s normal for Jason – an automotive enthusiast, who has his own personalized bike and follows Formula 1 religiously – to be entranced by it. He had taken a liking to it since his Robin days when Dad once took him for a drive with that Ferrari. Many things had happened between those times and current times, but it seems his love for the car didn’t diminish.

Y/n was in the garage when Jason appeared, whistling and keys jiggling in his hand.

“I thought we’re not allowed to use that one,” pointed out the woman, grabbing his leather jacket in a sad attempt to stop him.

Jason raised an eyebrow before he raised his hand to ruffle the top of your hair. “As long as he doesn’t know I’ll be fine,” he scoffed.

“I bet Alfred knows.”

“Alfie knows everything.”

Y/n continues to stare at him as Jason reaches the Ferrari. You could practically see all the love and adoration in his eyes as he walked around the car as if he was about to inspect it.

“You know,” y/n started. “I could tell Dad.”

The older male stopped at that. “You wouldn’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I could,” you shrugged.

“What do you want in exchange for your silence?”

You grinned. “When you take it out for a drive, I want to go too.”

Jason seemed to contemplate that bargain for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “Deal.”

Truth to be told, it’s not like y/n was interested in automotive or cars back then. Back then, she had just seen it as an opportunity to become closer to Jason. After all, his relationship with the family is tense during the best days and downright horrible during the worst ones.

Y/n had been hesitant about approaching the man after the whole Red Hood and the… Jason being dead… thing that she had elected to stay away from him for some time. Most of the time, the man doesn’t even come to the manor if he can help it and only visits during vigilante business. Considering y/n is not a vigilante, well.

Jason had been her favorite brother. He had been the brother who understood her perfectly. The sibling that is the closest to her age.

The sibling that she had grieved for the longest.

Of course, she had been overjoyed at his return, despite all of the killings and the not-right-in-the-head part. It’s still Jason after all. It’s still the brother who likes to accompany her in the library and the brother who helps her with her English homework.

It’s still the older brother that she loves with all her heart, despite all the differences and all the things in between.

Jason still laughed with his full body, eyes still crinkling in amusement every time he found something funny. He still loves to read those cheesy romance books and believes in true love. Jason is still Jason and that’s all that matters.

That’s why she had seen it as an opportunity to once again, grow closer to Jason. To rebuild the relationship that had years ago. To become siblings once again.

She’s not even sure why Jason agreed to take her alone, not that she’s complaining. She just hopped into the car – excitement high and brimming – as she began thinking what kind of conversation they could have or if should they stop by for food afterward-

Though, in the end, both y/n and Jason crashed the car.

In both of your defenses, Jason – who was driving the car at that time – didn’t mean it. The both of you were high in euphoria and the thrill of high speed after all. And the road near the Wayne Manor is always empty considering, well, it’s also owned by the Wayne family, so no one is ever in it.

It’s not your or Jason’s fault that they didn’t predict a stray cat will pass through the road.

Y/n had screeched and Jason had cursed to hell back as he swerved. It’s only due to the man’s extensive experience as a vigilante and doing many many car chases throughout Gotham that the crash is not a horrible one.

But still, the custom Ferrari had a big dent and scratch mark on its side. Certainly not something that the both of you can hide from. 

Considering that it’s your dad’s favorite car, it’s only normal for him to be mad. But one look at your bruised forehead and Jason’s bleeding noise squashed down all of that anger and replaced it with worry and fretting. It seems his love for his children greatly overpowers any fond memories he has of that car.

However, it doesn’t mean that both of you came out of that mess scot-free. As a punishment, Bruce told both you and Jason to go fix the car.

Fixing the car is a generous term considering you and Jason only had to bring the car to something like a garage specializing in Ferrari or something. But though, it was also the moment that you started to build your relationship with Jason once again.

“Why do you like it so much though?” you had asked.

“Because it’s cool,” grunted out Jason as the both of you lounged in one of his safehouses. The TV is on, showing a Formula 1 race being broadcast. “Look, I know it just looks like cars going around in circles but you gotta watch the whole thing to understand the thrill!”

Letting out a hum, you settled once again on the sofa.

“Are you interested in it?” you asked in it. “To… you know, becoming your daytime job.”

“Dunno, being a crime lord is kind of a daytime kind of thing.”

You let out a huff of laughter at that. “You know that’s not what I mean,” you said, nudging him by the shoulder. “Dad is… you know how he’s trying to announce your revival publicly right?”

Y/n knows Jason knows that. Practically everyone in the family knows it at this point.

“And well, for your civilian persona, maybe having a daytime job that’s not borderline illegal could help.”

Jason let out a scoff at that. “Psh,” he said. “I’m like, way too old to start my carreer in racing,” waved Jason off, though Y/n can sense a hint of disappointment on his tone. “There’s no team who wants me anyway, what with my anger issue and bout of madness.”

The female frowned at that. “You know that’s not an issue,” she said.

“The hell does that mean?”

“If you want to become a Formula One driver, or anything – really – you just only need to say it,” said the woman. “Dad will practically buy you a private island if you asked him, let alone a Formula One team.”

Her brother stared at her, eyes blinking, and y/n merely kept her gaze on the screen in front of them.

“Are you- are you being serius?” Chocked out Jason.

“Jay,” started the female. “Dad id practically building a zoo on our backyard for Damian’s pure shit and giggles,” she said, reminding the older male about the construction that had been happening for some time and Damian’s dedication to it. “If Dad thinks you being a Formula One driver can help you to your… recovery, or you being closer to the family, he’s going to buy the whole paddock at this point.”

“… You’re being serious.”

“Obviously,” said y/n. “What? You don’t want to?”

“I don’t-“ Bit out Jason, “Have any time for that.”

Jason said that he doesn’t have any time for that. Not that he doesn’t wants it.

Y/n remember Jason’s childhood bedroom back in the manor. The old Formula One poster that had faded over time. The miniature Ferrari Formula One car that had been customized gift from the company, a special gift requested by Dad all those years ago. Or that day years ago, when Dad had taken a much younger y/n and Jason to Monza to watch the race.

She stared back at the race that’s showing on the screen in front of them.

Well, she thought. It won’t be too hard to convince dad to buy a formula one team.

You see, the thing is, contrary to popular belief, Bruce Wayne doesn’t want his children to become vigilantes like him. After all, he knows best how dangerous the job can be. How with a single mistake, a single misstep, it will be your life that is in danger.

He had been a bit accepting of the idea after Dick. Bruce knows that he’s not a great father, that he has made way too many mistakes, but seeing how great of a hero Dick is, the older man had accepted the fact that he may not have been a great father, but a great mentor.

However, that kind of thought soon changed.

After Jason, after Ethiopia and its explosion, and Joker’s manic laugh, he doesn’t want any of his children to become a vigilante. He doesn’t want to lose any of his children anymore. Bruce had been scared for the day that y/n would come to him and declare her desire to become a crime-fighting vigilante to come.

And yet, that day never came. Instead, y/n had come to him holding a stack of papers that Bruce recognized as his own father’s research paper. There’s a bright grin on her face, so much like Martha Wayne’s, as you declare, “I want to become a doctor!” said the girl. “Just like Grandpa Thomas!”

Oh, Bruce loves all of his children equally. He had loved each of them with the same intensity. Yet, at this moment, all he could see was the crying baby that was left on his doorstep all those years ago—the result of a careless one-night stand when he was too young even to manage his grief properly.

Y/n had been the first child that he raised and was even under his care years before he took in Dick as his ward. Bruce was practically a child himself when y/n appeared in his life, just a crying baby that was dumped on his doorstep by a mother who didn’t want her. He had made many mistakes and actually managed a somehow decent job at the whole being a father thing due to Alfred’s helping hand. She had been his only daughter for so long and seeing her like this, wanting to become someone just like his late father-

Maybe, just maybe. Maybe Bruce did a good job in this whole fathering thing.

That happened years ago, and now fast forward to now, y/n has become the youngest professor in Thomas Wayne Hospital. Considering her achievements and who her father is, it’s a no-brainer that she will take up the director seat soon enough. She too, alongside Jason, had been the face of Wayne Industry charities where her older brother focuses on helping street children to have a more stable future, she focuses on improving Gotham’s horrid healthcare system.

And of course, her side job.

The doctor to her siblings’ recklessness.

“Ow!” Hissed out Tim as y/n began stitching his wound in the med bay. “I didn’t expect it to be that painful-“

“Of course, it’s painful,” answered the woman with a scowl. “And you’re the one that’s insisting on not using any anesthesia, so suck it up like a big boy.”

“You know I got all sleepy if I had anesthesia,” grumbled the younger male. “I need to study a case file later tonight-“

“Tim,” cut off y/n. “When did you last sleep?”

Tim blinked. “… Last night?”

“Drake is lying,” interrupted Damian as he appeared next to the girl with a glare in his eyes. “He was last asleep approximately 65 hours ago,” continues the boy, tattling his older brother without a care in the world.

“You-“

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!” Yelled y/n as she finished out the stitch. “What did I tell you about the importance of sleep!?”

“Well-“

“You’re still growing! I know that you just took over the CEO position and there are case files that you need to look up to, but how many times do I have to tell you that resting your body is also equally important!?”

The younger can’t even come up with a retort as he resigned himself on the onslaught of scolding that’s being rained upon him.

Dick is laughing easily besides them, fully enjoying the whole debacle.

It didn’t took y/n long to finish up tending on her sibling injuries before she moved towards where Bruce is sitting.

“I’m not injured,” he replied, though at the same time, letting his daughter to examined him closely.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrow at that, a gesture that his own mother likes to make when she knows that Bruce is lying, before she began examining him. It was silent around them, as Dick had decided to haul Tim up to his bedroom.

“Dad,” started y/n as she bandaged a small wound on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce hummed.

“If I ask you to buy something, are you going to do it?”

That made him raised an eyebrow. Out of all of his children, y/n is probably the one who has the largest personal income besides Tim. It’s rare for the woman to ask Bruce something ever since she has her own money.

She’s probably going to ask him buy something expensive.

“Depends,” he replied. “What do you want?”

“A Formula One team?”

Huh.

Bruce has so many questions at that. 

He knows that a few months ago that y/n and Jason had crashed his Ferrari. As a punishment, he had asked them to fixed it together. He also knows that the both of them had been bonding over it. Y/n even visited Jason often enough to know the man’s daily habit at this point.

“What’s this all of the sudden?” he asked instead. “I didn’t know that you’re that… passionate about Formula One.”

It’s not that he’s against or doesn’t have the money to buy a Formula One team. Hell, he could probably buy the entirety of Formula One and go on his merry way. Wayne Industry is trying to expand into the automotive world too these past years – something that had caused Tim a great headache lately – but his daughter who previously doesn’t have any interest in Formula One suddenly asked him to buy a team there?

“It’s not for me, obviously,” said the woman. “It’s for… Jason.”

“Jason?” Bruce blinked.

“Lately we’ve been bonding a lot,” started y/n. “It’s great to have my older brother back, and we’ve been bonding a lot over Formula One because if you remember, Jason had always liked it, even before… everything.”

Bruce does remember it. The weekend that he spent in Monza with younger Jason and y/n had always been one of his fondest memory.

“I think Jason had wanted to become a Formule One driver, once.”

That, is something that Bruce doesn’t know.

“He obviously can’t right now, but if you buy a team, he could… I don’t know, do some testing, go on a simulation, or if god’s willing, maybe even race for the team,” explained y/n. “I know that this seems like a bizzare request dad, but I think this can make Jason really happy.”

An image of Jason appeared inside of his mind.

Of Jason scowling in front of him. Of Jason who had begged him to choose him over his killer. Of his son, laying lifeless on his arm, body cooling rapidly as the time stopped around him.

Of Jason, laughing and smiling decked in Ferrari colors in Monza all those years ago.

It’s an easy choice for Bruce Wayne- no, as Jason’s dad.

There’s a lot of hustle and bustle during the Monaco Grand Prix. This is not uncommon, considering how many celebrities or another important figures that attended that particular GP.

Though usually, Charles tuned them all out. After all, this is the Monaco GP. His home race. Monaco GP is probably the Grand Prix that matters the most to him. 

He really can’t help it. It has been his childhood dream to race in the streets of Monaco. Charles can remember vividly his childhood memories when he would watch the Monaco GP from his friends’ balcony. To watch the cars, speed up through the streets that he’s familiar with, just admiring and daydreaming about his dream as a Formula 1 driver. Years later, Charles managed to become a Formula 1 driver. Not only a Formula 1 driver but a Ferrari Formula 1 driver. It’s everything that he had ever wanted and yet-

It’s only losses after losses. Disappointments after disappointments. A string of failed races every time it’s time for him to race in his home country. People like to call it his Monaco curse. Charles personally found it ridiculous.

And yet they’re all living in a world where superheroes and supervillains roam around the land. They’re living in a world where there’s an alien and a man who dressed up as a bat posing as their heroes. Where villains who wants world domination appear every week.

So maybe, a curse is not something too far off.

Nonetheless, every time the Monaco GP turned up; it put him in a pensive mood. There are just so many things inside of his mind. The excitement of the race, all the bits of knowledge that he had to know regarding the car and the track, the fear of disappointment that kept hanging on his back over and over again.

Too many things to contemplate and brood about for him to listen to the idle chatter inside the garage. This year though, he can’t help but tune in.

“There’s an important guest in attendance,” said his manager during lunch. Charles eyed the chicken that was being served in front of his manager almost hungrily before he turned his gaze toward the sad plate of salad in front of him. “You know Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah,” said Charles in realization. Charles is not even an American and he’s very familiar with the name Bruce Wayne and the Wayne legacy. To be honest, it’s harder to not know the man considering he’s gracing every news outlet every other week. “The richest man in the world?”

“Bingo,” nodded the man. “He’ll attend the Monaco race, with some of his children,” he continued. “Apparently he’s a big fan of cars, and there’s even rumors that the Wayne Industry is going to acquire a team in Formula One soon.”

Oh, that’s news even for him. He wonders if FIA is going to expand the sport or maybe the Wayne Enterprise is going to buy one of the teams. Haas maybe?

“I see,” murmured Charles. “Is he going to stay in one of the team garages or?”

“He’ll be staying with us,” answered his manager. “His father had saved Ferrari from a financial crisis a few decades back, and Bruce Wayne is also one of the major stakeholders in Ferrari. The guy even got a custom-made Ferrari a few years ago… wonder where that went through.”

Well, if Charles also had a custom-made Ferrari, he would parade it around everywhere. But if you’re as rich as Bruce Wayne maybe a custom-made Ferrari is nothing.

Despite everything, Bruce Wayne didn’t actually show up until Sunday, the actual race day. Charles is sitting on top of tires just outside of the Ferrari garage, trying to get into the right head space when there seem to be clamors around him. He heard him before he saw him, as he could hear the increase of camera shutters and conversations.

Bruce Wayne is a large and domineering figure. He’s tall, really tall. Charles thinks there’s a couple of inches in difference in their height, but what really caught his attention is how built the guy is. Formula One drivers are expected to stay light, because the lighter they are, the faster their car will go. He has been way too used to seeing tall and lean men – the other drivers – that Bruce Wayne’s built body made him do a double-check.

Accompanying him, are a younger man and a woman – his children it seems. The man is also tall, taller than Charles but not as tall as Wayne, but he seems to compensate for it with pure muscle. He has tan skin as well as a tuft of dark hair with white streaks in front. The woman is also tall, her face showing few similarities with Wayne. Different from his father and brother who are decked in all black, the woman is wearing a red silk top. Clearly showing the whole paddock the team that she’s rooting for.

Ferrari’s chairman – John Elkann - is walking beside Wayne and is clearly pleased by the declaration from the woman.

“And of course, our driver!” said John when they were nearing the garage. Instantly all eyes were on Charles and almost automatically, a smile appeared on his lips. “Bruce, this is one of our drivers, Charles Leclerc, and Charles, you know Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes,” said Charles, increasing his charm to the max. Being on a good term with Bruce Wayne not only will benefit the racing team but Ferrari as a whole. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

Wayne laughed cheerily at that, shaking his hand with Charles. “It’s an honor for me too,” said the man. “I’ve been a big fan of Formula One for so long, only now do I have the time to watch a race live.”

Charles doubts that. Bruce Wayne is famous for all of his vacations and playboy lifestyle – the latter part had tamed a bit in recent years, considering all the children that he had now. No doubt, if he’s really a fan of Formula One, the man would have found time to watch a race or two.

“And my children too are big fans,” grinned Wayne as he motioned for both of his children to come closer. “This is Jason, my second eldest,” he put an arm around the man who nodded his head towards Charles. “And this is y/n, my youngest daughter.”

For the first time since their arrival, Charles got a good look on their face and-

Oh.

Oh.

Y/n Wayne is probably the most beautiful woman that Charles had ever seen in his life. Perfectly styled hair, red lipstick across her lips – perfectly complimenting her pearly teeth – and how her outfit today fits her like a glove. She looks really beautiful, almost unreal. It’s a really big compliment because he had seen many beautiful women – models, influencers, celebrities – but no one seems able to compare with the ethereal beauty of Y/n Wayne.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” said Y/n with a large smile. “As you can see,” at this, she motioned her top, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m rooting for Ferrari, so I wish you good luck during the race.”

Fuck. Her voice sounds really nice too. Charles needs to open his mouth and answer the woman, but his voice seems to be stuck in his throat. 

Finally, after a couple of second of silence, he managed to say, “Yeah,” said the driver. “Yeah, thank you.”

A snort cut through his haze, making Charles turn his eyes towards the older Wayne’s sibling. Jason Wayne stares at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes showing as if he knows something that Charles doesn’t know. 

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” said the driver turning his attention towards Bruce Wayne, trying to steer the conversation away from his awkwardness. Away from y/n Wayne’s perfectly styled hair and a perfect smile. “I was told you will be staying in the garage, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wayne. “I’m really excited about it, right Jason? y/n?”

“For sure,” answered Jason, talking for the first time since their arrival here. “Heard you have a shitty luck in your home race, gonna need lots of good luck, no?”

And ouch.

Charles knows that his home race curse is a bit infamous, but being told like this directly in front of his face is hurting his ego a bit. It’s not like he can give the guy a retort back considering he’s Bruce Wayne’s son – one of their biggest sponsors – but still, he can’t help the small twitch of annoyance that appeared on his lips.

“Jason,” said y/n, nudging the elder’s side.

Jason rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Sorry about that,” said y/n. “He’s a bit prickly after the long flight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” dismissed Charles good-naturedly, not wanting to offend their guests. “My Monaco curse has its own reputation after all.”

“Don’t call it a curse,” laughed y/n. “Someone once said to me that if you acknowledge something as a curse, it will only bring bad luck.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” he said, a bit intrigued. It’s an interesting concept after all. 

“Yes,” replied the female with a smile. Her eyes crinkled, only making it far more beautiful and show-stopping. “Maybe it’s luck? Luck for me?”

“For you?”

“Well, I think if I managed to see the il Predestino first race win in Monaco I would be a really lucky girl.”

And well, Charles can’t help but bark out a laugh at that. The idea itself is a bit ridiculous, but somehow, it only warms his heart. The woman seems to be amused at his sudden bout of laughter as she too, regards him with some kind of amusement in her eyes.

“That certainly one of the ways to see it,” said the driver, amusement dripping on his tone. “Thank you though, I’ll remember your words during the race and maybe it can serve as my personal lucky charm.”

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Please do,” replied the woman. “It’s every girl’s dream to be remembered by Charles Leclerc after all.”

“Every girl’s dream huh?” answered the driver. “Is it also yours?”

“Well, for one, I’m a woman,” said y/n grinning.

“Mhm, I can see that-”

“That’s enough of that,” Cut off Jason and it made Charles remember that it’s not only him and y/n in the room. The older of the Wayne children stared at the both of them with something akin to disapproval that made Charles flicker his eyes to where Bruce Wayne was. Thankfully, he’s deep in a conversation with John. “I really don’t want to see my sister flirting with someone,” this he made a vague gagging sound, “and Bruce is leaving, so we better get going.”

“Ah,” said y/n, turning her eyes towards where her father is. “Jason is right, it’s really nice to meet you, Charles.”

He really can’t help the twinge of disappointment that appeared inside of him. He had been enjoying their conversation after all. The driver wishes that he doesn’t have a race soon so that they can have more time just getting to know each other. “It’s also really nice to meet you, y/n.”

The woman smiled at that before she leaned closer, startling him a bit. “Let’s continue our conversation later at the after-party,” she whispered, giving him a wink before she leaned back and said again in a louder voice. “Anyway, good luck out there. We’re really looking forward to the race later.”

Soon after that, Bruce Wayne’s entourage moved on, no doubt exploring the paddock with Ferrari’s chairman, leaving Charles standing there staring.

“Stop that gawking,” muttered his managed, snapping him out of his trance. “We all know y/n Wayne is pretty.”

Charles spluttered. “I was-“ he began fumbling. “I was not gawking at her.”

“Mhm,” hummed his manager. “Anyway, get your head right on your shoulder loverboy, the race is starting soon.”

The driver grumbled as he turned around towards the garage.

He’s Charles Leclerc. He does not gawk. He’s not-

Y/n Wayne’s beautiful smile flashed across his mind.

Oh.

Well, he’s a simple man after all.

[blackynsupremacy]

THERE’S SOMETHING

ABOUT YOU.

CHAPTER 1

pairing: smallville!clark kent x blackfem!oc

fandom: smallville (2001-2011)

guest starring: aaliyah haughton as lyric james

summary: ever since lana lang has moved in with the sullivan’s, clark kent’s nightly telescopic views of the galaxy and daily glimpse of the sunrise tend to get lonelier. that is until a moving truck, a wandering amicable feline, and her frustrated owner, lyric james, makes her debut in his life as her family are the new owners of the old potter house next door. things between the new neighbors start to shift as clark is tasked as her personal tour guide at her new school. one little slip is all it takes for her to learn he’s more than meets the eye in this small town.

contains: lots of words,neighbors to friends, slow burn, martha lowkey being the hookup, snarky teens, some swearing, fluff, friendly banter, a bit of angst. lyric’s thoughts. clark’s thoughts.

taglist: @afrowrites @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @sabrinasopposite @tryingtograspctrl @ellethespaceunicorn @jkr820 @simply-the-best23 @zombiehe4rt

next: CHAPTER 2

it was around 8:30 PM on a friday night as clark kent gazed at the stars through his telescope in his “fortress of solitude”. it was just his loft in the barn, but he never forgot how lana lang coined that term for this sacred space of his. lana was known as the typical girl-next-door and the cheerleader dating the captain of smallville high’s football team, whitney fordman, and clark’s first love. well—it’s crazy how things can change so rapidly. lana quit cheerleading to own the talon, whitney was killed while following in his late father’s footsteps to serve this country, and she wasn’t the girl-next-door anymore. she had to move in with one of clark’s best friends, chloe sullivan and her father, gabe because her aunt nell’s new husband wanted to move the family out of smallville, but lana refused to leave it all behind. one thing that didn’t change was clark’s love and admiration towards the girl.

the loft wasn’t just his space where he’d go to think or look into space. he also shared it with her. whether it’d be using the telescope to admire her from afar, having late night talks, or watching the sunrise together. you’d think with this much time spent with someone, clark would finally have the gusto to officially ask lana out. he has tried, but between the obstacles of figuring out his heritage, keeping his abilities a secret, not wanting to hurt others feelings, and his cowardice of opening up to his loved ones, his chances with her all went to hell.

lana’s tasks at the talon were getting busier by the day and she still had her load of class work to tend to, so her visits to the loft for sunrises or meaningful conversations weren’t as frequent. it’s been getting quite lonely here. a deep sigh escapes from clark’s chest as he takes a step back from the telescope, both hands tucked within his pockets. his blue eyes peer at the dark sky that was softly lit with luminous stars that goes beyond this planet he’s come to know and love. his longing for the answers concerning his heritage grow stronger and impatient as his thoughts trail back to the aircraft that’s hiding in the cellar. he wished that this burden wouldn’t have to be so much. he understood that his parents, jonathan and martha, didn’t want to lose their miracle child if he found out where he came from or if the world knew of his powers, they would experiment, exploit, or worse, treat him like an outcast. it’s already hard enough on clark that his best friend, pete ross, knew. they’ve worked it out once he’s sworn his secrecy to the kents and their friendship seemed to be stable, but deep down he knew that pete would never really get used to that. clark just wanted someone—no, anyone to understand his intentions. whether they’re a human or not. why did i have to come down to this planet? what happened on my planet that was so bad that i literally crashed into the quiet lives of this town? why—

clark’s train of thoughts came to a halt and his heightened sense of hearing caught the sound of revving engines and purring wheels coming into the direction of the neighborhood, but not directly to his home. both of the vehicles make a stop and park at their destination. one of the vehicles is a u-haul moving truck the other, resembling what might be a white honda civic. this stop wasn’t an ordinary stop either. it seemed that the destination was—the old potter house. was it possible that nell had changed her mind? did lana know about this? could things go back to the way they were? clark had to pause for a second because he didn’t recognize the car at first, so he looks back into the telescope to investigate further.

it was pitch dark outside to see who exactly were operating the vehicles, so clark knew what he had to do to find out. his eyes focused on the closely on the u-haul, he could clearly see the boxes and luggage near the rear end before his x-ray vision travels towards the front. in the driver’s seat, he could see the outline of a human skeletal figure, stretching their arm muscles and reaching for the seatbelt. his pupils shifted to the car parked behind the truck. there were three figures this time. one sitting in the drivers side, the other in the passenger with their head leaning against the window, and third that seemed to be curling up on the passengers lap which clark assumed to be a pet. the driver taps the passenger’s shoulder to signal them to wake up before they open the doors.

with the low quantity of streetlights near kent farm, it was still difficult to see clearly, but clark was positive he saw three different silhouettes with three different voices as he watched them exit the vehicles. the tallest silhouette was definitely an older male with a deep voice muttering as he made his way to the front door before fishing the key out of his pocket to gain access to the house.

“come on now, girls! this house won’t be moved in by itself. let’s at least get what we need for the night and start fresh in the morning, alright?” he commands before stepping into the house. the next silhouette was slightly shorter than the first and the soft, alto voice was of an older female followed by the final silhouette who had a similar voice to hers, but it definitely sounds like a person of around clark’s age. she appears to be holding a bundle tucked securely in her arms. her own sigh resonates in the night air, her posture deflating with exhaustion.

“man, if i have to move another muscle, i swear i’ma fall apart.” the youngest of the three groggily protested as she dragged her feet forward.

“your father’s right! the faster we get things done, the faster we can go to bed, get some rest and greet our new neighbors in the morning. i’d suggest you put that cat down somewhere and pick up those feet, young lady. we don’t have time for all that whining, now.” the older female firmly responds as she beckons the younger to follow her into the house.

“yes, mama. just—let me put the princess in my room and i’ll be right down with ya’ll. god knows i’m beat.” all three figures trudge their way into the now lit house and close the door.

clark lets the conversation cut there before he takes some paces away from telescope.

it looks like we’re getting new neighbors. i’ll make sure to tell mom and dad in the morning.

he turned off the light switch before descending down the stairs to retire for the night.

lyric james huffs out in relief as her spine finally makes contact with her lavender comforter set delicately draped over the air soft mattress of her new bed, in her new room, of her new house, and in a new town. the bare walls were illuminated with the amber glow of the ivory bedside lamp she recently installed. her closet was about a quarter full and the drawers had the essentials like undergarments and socks, but there were two things she couldn’t live without for one night: grandad’s record player and noir. speaking of noir, lyric could hear the soft patter of paws treading on the hardwood floors and an audible mew of the feline. she got the strength to lift herself upright to look down and find noir staring back at the girl with those large round, yellow-green eyes and her fuzzy,black tail swaying across the floor as if she were waiting for her owner to carry her as she did before they stepped into the new house.

lyric chuckled at her cat, shaking her head. although it was a tired smile, her dimples made a prominent appearance within her toffee skin. “girl, i know i got you spoiled rotten—can’t even get up on the bed without needing an escort.” she reached her arms below to scoop noir up into her bed before laying vertically with her head against her plush pillows and a fair number of stuffed animals. lyric adjusted, so that one hand was underneath the white, paisley bandana wrapped to protect her hair and the other, tenderly stroking noir’s dark coat of fur as the cat nuzzled on her torso. her brown eyes shifted to see the red glowing digits of the time set on her alarm clock. 10:30. i really need to sleep, so i can move all of that junk tomorrow. thank god it’ll be a saturday. her chest raised slowly to deflate as she sat alone with her thoughts. i miss new york already. what’s so interesting about this itty, bitty hill billy town anyway? what does a place like smallville have to offer?

let’s rewind that real quick. lyric james was a born and (formerly) raised native from new york. she’s currently a sophomore with a love for old vinyl records, talking junk, eating sweets, going out with friends (well the ones she had back home), impulsive shopping, and documenting core memories with her digital camera.

her voice was soft as rain and calm as her mother’s, one might say a sound like a voice of reason, but one shouldn’t get that confused with her being a pushover. when it comes to meeting new people, she’s not shy per say, but before opening up she needs to observe certain people. observe of how they speak, their body language, and just how they are as a person in general. if the vibe’s good, that’s what’s up! she’ll crack jokes, speak in fluent sarcasm, and maybe a bit of flirting when she gets the balls. if not, she’ll be cordial and respectfully keep her distance. she’s had moments of naivety in the past when it came to friendships causing her to get burned, but hey— she lived and she learned. that was her just her outlook on life: to live until you die. she was only a teenager, so she’s expected to screw up every once in a while, but when it came to having that common sense her parents instilled in her during childhood, she knows where the line should never be crossed.

her parents, crystal and joseph james, were suitable guardians and they supported lyric as well as nurtured her to be a well mannered young woman, but one thing that got her tight was their demanding work schedules. joseph worked as a firefighter and crystal, an er nurse. don’t get her wrong, she loved that her parents saved lives for the love of it and kept their lives afloat financially, but it also made lyric anxious. as an only child, she’s been with her parents for so long and she couldn’t imagine if something happened to one or both of them. hence why she had a curfew, even back in her hometown to make sure she’s home and near the phone just in case. the main reason why her parents decided to move to smallville was that it was safe. it wasn’t like smallville didn’t have crime going on, but it wasn’t as bad as new york. crystal and joseph knew that their daughter was left alone most of the time and they’d allowed for her to go out with friends and come back at a certain time, but the risk was too high for them to stay ever since—omar. fortunately, they had some colleagues recommend that smallville had some opening positions for their professions and that’s how they got here to get away from their past.

lyric felt her eyelids drooping lower as a yawn escaped from her mouth and reached over to the lamp switch to cease the glow in her room. careful not to wake noir, she shifted her body as carefully as she could to conceal herself under the sheets. she turned on her side, her knees curling up slightly in a fetal position as her bare feet rubbed against each other. her arms wrapped loosely around noir. the sounds of the feline’s low snores were enough to send lyric into a peaceful, calm slumber.

the rising sun of saturday crept in at around 7:15 AM. clark was used to being up this early. that’s farm life, but this was part of his daily routine to wake up, get dressed, and head to the loft to watch nature simply take its course. as he leaned his elbows against the window sill, his eyes of blue soaked up the harmonious mixture of the sky’s color palette of lavender, pink, tangerine, and gold. the clouds resembled the fluffiness of the cotton candy that was served at the fall festival every year. it was silent, but the wind hummed as it lightly tickled clark’s face and fanned his raven tresses with a breeze so gentle at just the right the temperature that he couldn’t help, but to close his eyes and inhale the morning within his lungs. he was sure this weekend was going to be the same: do some chores, hang out with his friends at the talon, run into lex luthor, or maybe fight off people who’ve been poisoned by those cursed green rocks like he’s some sort of superboy. you know, the usual. clark then had that sinking feeling within his stomach and that tiny weight of heaviness in his chest with visions of her.

i really wish lana was here. maybe she’d find some time to at least catch the end of this.

his eyes then traveled back to the house next door. the two vehicles and the “SOLD” sign out in the front yard confirmed to clark that the kents having new neighbors wasn’t a fever dream like he’d hoped. he didn’t really get to see the family clearly, but he remembered a father, a mother, and perhaps a daughter with a pet of some kind. he pondered on the details of where they came from, what they looked like, what were their personalities, and most importantly, were they prepared for what kind of town they’ve moved to given its bizarre history? well—clark, felt he was to blame for the bizarre part, but his parents reassured there was nothing no one could do to prevent it.

after the sun took its rightful place in the heavens, clark decided it was time to get a head start on his chores for the day. that was until he felt something nuzzle itself against his ankle and his ears picking up on the soft mewling sound that filled the silence of the loft. well—that’s new… he thought knowing that it was the norm for animals to be on the farm, but not this one. clark peered down to find two wide eyes of yellow-green that reminded him of the glow of a firefly in the darkness of july. they were attached to a tiny, furry head with a pink button nose, whiskers, and pointed ears all surrounded by onyx fur. one of clark’s brows raised and a grin curved on his lips as the feline continued to wrap around his or her tail around his leg some more. with blended knees, he squatted down low enough to meet the cat’s level to slowly, but gently reach his hand towards the nose first, so the cat could detect clark’s scent properly before giving him the green light to go any further. a dark paw stretches to lightly touch his hand before leaning a fluffy cheek in forward to nuzzle clark’s knuckles, indicating that he can proceed with his touch. clark couldn’t help, but to smile before taking both hands to enthusiastically pet this friendly little, black cat’s face.

“now, i wonder how you got yourself in here, huh? your owner must be pretty worried—“ he paused to check to see if the cat had a collar of any kind in which he came up short. geez, he at least wanted to know the feline’s gender without catching them off guard by picking them up. as if the cat read his mind, they rolled over on the hardwood floor to reveal the underside of their body. after a quick observation, clark figured out this feline was a female before she rolled over again to her original position on her belly.

“don’t worry, girl. you can stay up here until your owner comes back. for now, i’ll take care of you.” he simpered as his palm soothingly descended down the cat’s spine. noir couldn’t help, but to respond to this boy’s touch by filling the room with a satisfied purr as if she were in paradise. clark sighed with content before he realized that he now has to let his folks know about the new visitor. he ceases his petting and his tenor voice softly urges, “i’ll be right back, girl. you stay right here, okay? if you’re good, i’ll come back with a little treat for you. how does that sound?” he coaxed. she responds by mewling and laying on her stomach, tail swaying back and forth across the floor as she watches clark walk away and descend down the stairs of the barn and out to his home to find his parents conversing at the breakfast table in their kitchen. his father was sitting at the table reading the newspaper while his mother was preparing breakfast.

“morning dad! morning mom!” he hurriedly greeted his parents, jogging to the cabinet to retrieve a plastic bowl and the refrigerator, for some fresh milk.

“mornin’, son!” jonathan responds, his eyes still skimming the headlines. martha repeats the phrase back to her son, her eyes glancing up to see to him getting the items needed for cereal, but no spoon nor cereal. martha squints in curiosity as her mother’s intuition urges her to ask clark what he’s up to.

“hey, clark, if you want breakfast, i’m putting something together. are sure you just want cereal, dear?” she questions.

“nah, mom. i’m good just…uh, getting started with my chores. hey, did you know that a new family moved into nell and lana’s old house? i saw the truck come in late last night while i was in the loft. you guys were sleeping by then, but i didn’t want to wake you.” clark spoke, pouring the right amount of milk in the bowl and putting the carton back in the fridge. he didn’t instantly want to stall on the fact of the feline, but he definitely wanted keep his parents in the loop of their new neighbors first.

martha’s face responds in awe, her head nodding with a smile on her lips as she resumes to cooking and jonathan lowers the paper to get a better insight on the topic of the discussion.

“ah, right! i noticed the truck still parked when i looked out the window this morning. at first i thought nell had changed her mind for lana’s sake, but i saw a different man walk to his car. either way, it’s exciting to see some fresh, new faces around smallville, right jonathan?” martha inquired to include her husband. jonathan nodded in agreement,

“oh, yeah. they’re likely a friendly, hardworking family with good old fashioned values that happen to live right next to another average family: a farmer, his wife, and their herculean son with the strength of 2,000 men!” jonathan wise cracked, earning some laughter from his family.

clark’s infectious smile crept on his lips before he takes the bowl off the counter, careful not to spill it.

“very funny, dad! in the case of meeting fresh faces, the new ones i’ve met so far are covered in fur and whiskers. i was out at the loft just now and this black cat just snuck in.”

“oh, a cat? so that explains the bowl with no cereal. well, do you think it’s just a stray?” martha questioned, wiping her hands clean with a plaid, hand towel.

“where’s the cat now?” jonathan chimed in.

“ah—not really, she’s actually very friendly. i’ve tried to look for a collar, but she didn’t have one. look, i’m not saying i’m keeping her, but i think someone would be coming for her soon. she should still be waiting in the loft. until then, i want her to be taken care of before they come.” clark utters, gesturing to the bowl in his hand.

“that’s sweet of you, clark! i’m sure they would appreciate that. oh! just milk won’t do, sweetie. let me see if we have a can of tuna in here somewhere.” martha inwardly beamed as she turned to rummage through the pantry to retrieve a can of tuna. as she fetched a can opener, spoon, and a bowl, her heart couldn’t help to swell at her son’s benevolence. his desire to care for all species on a foreign planet made her feel more content of what happened in the fall of ‘89. sure there was some destruction, trauma, and long lasting negative outcomes, but clark would never fit in those categories. out of the can she scooped the meat into a bowl and handed it to clark.

“thanks, mom! i’ve learned from the best, you know.” he leant down to tenderly kiss the auburn head of his mother and made his journey outside to fulfill his promise to the amicable fur ball that was still waiting on her treat. once inside, he places the two bowls in front of her and it wasn’t a second later before she indulged in the food and drink.

little does this sneaky kitty know that her owner is about to cross paths with smallville’s main attraction.

lyric’s grogginess was short lived after waking up to find noir missing. she quickly sat up to look underneath the comforter to see if the onyx feline was at the foot of the bed. lyric knew that noir liked to sneak away and hide in other places of their old house, so what makes her think noir wouldn’t give this house a test drive for that same purpose? lyric moved the comforter to free herself and swung her feet to the side of the bed. she rubbed the sleep from eyes to get a clearer vision in order to see the red digits on her clock. it was approximately 8:00 am. as soon as the bare soles of her feet touched the floor, her knees followed suit to search under the bed.

“noir?” she called as her brown eyes searched and her head moved from left to right and vice versa, but noir was nowhere in sight. feeling a tad irked with her pet’s usual shenanigans, a huff erupted from her chest and her brows furrowed. lyric stood up to her feet and made her way to the closet only to find just her clothes on the hangers, no noir. lyric checked all the usual places upstairs where she would hide. bathroom? no. linen closet? nah. the den? negative. not even her own parents room provided lyric with the answer she desired.

“now, where the hell could she be?” she muttered lowly to herself under her breath. lyric knew better for her parents not to hear any type of profanity slip from her mouth. her ass would be grass, but so would noir’s if she didn’t pop her fuzzy head out in the next few minutes.

she was such in a tizzy trying to find her cat that she didn’t notice her mother, crystal, calling out for her from downstairs. lyric brought herself back to earth before she made her way down the steps and into the kitchen where she found crystal to be unpacking an open cardboard box and placing dishes, bowls, and cups in their respective cabinets. each item making a clanging sound as they were maneuvered out of the box.

“good morning, mama! where’s dad?” lyric hastily greeted and questioned as she also noticed the absence of her father. her doe eyes perused areas such as the floor, near the refrigerator, and under the tables. damnit, no such luck.

“good morning, honey! your father’s out at the station to settle some final paperwork before monday and running some errands for the house, but he should be back in time soon. we still have so much unpacking to do and meet our new neighbors, so get a move on to get dressed!

“hold up, don’t the ones living here already usually come to meet the new ones?” lyric’s nails reached to scratch her scalp as she raised her arched brow, piqued by the statement.

“yes, usually, but the unusual doesn’t always do harm.” crystal responded to her daughter before she turned around to see her still clad in her nightly attire. lyric hastily nods, her thoughts still running laps around her head.

“you sound like you’re in a rush. what’s wrong, baby?” she placed the items she was unpacking on the counter before she approached lyric.

“ma, have you seen noir? i’ve checked her usual spots and i can’t find her nowhere. i know she likes to sneak out my room every once and a while, but she stays in the house hiding and i keep coming up short— you’ve been down here for a minute, so maybe you’ve seen her tryin’ to get somethin’ to eat?”

“mmm—no. i’m sorry, i haven’t. it don’t help that we barely got any food to start with, my guess is noir went to search somewhere else for that. one thing about her, if she can’t get food here, she’ll get it somewhere else and you know how greedy she is the way you got her spoiled.” crystal chuckled as she heard lyric sigh out a defeated “if that ain’t the truth.” even though noir can be a handful, she adored her due to antics like this because let’s be real, a girl’s gotta eat!

“i just hope you remembered to put that collar back on her neck when we got here.”

lyric froze. her lips tighten as her eyes shut, inhaling and huffing out a breath of deeper frustration with herself before she realized that she didn’t put noir’s collar on when they settled in last night. she was so worn out from going back and forth to move in her essentials to her room, that it slipped her mind completely. now, she knows noir likes to wander a bit, but damn it! she never expected that cat to venture out in a whole new area. crystal took lyric’s silence and that pout on her face as a signal of negligence to complete the task, but she understood that it was late and the whole james family were even dead tired to get the rest of what they needed. a sympathetic smile rose on her full lips and her palms find their way to reassuringly massage the tensed muscles of her daughter’s shoulders.

“don’t worry. you know noir always finds her way back home, she wouldn’t dream of getting into some trouble without you, especially not too far away, so she may be closer than you think. now, i bet you’ll do the right thing and put that collar on as soon as you get her back?” crystal inquired with a playful tone, so lyric’s pout transformed to a lopsided grin, the dimples she inherited from her mother protruding as she giggled. in return for her mother’s wisdom, lyric pulled her into a bear hug and rested her chin on shoulder. this reminded her of the moments in her childhood when crystal would console lyric, whether she was taking her accountable or not.

“yes, ma’am—and i’m sorry for not handling my business. it won’t happen again, i swear.” she murmured near crystal’s ear and pulled back to face her again.

“you live and you learn. i’ll tell you this, instead of looking around in the house, how about going outside? you might find what you’re looking for. you can worry about unpacking the rest of your things later.” after giving lyric her cue to get started, crystal’s kissed her daughter’s cheek and ceased the embrace before finally disposing of the box that was emptied of its contents.

departing with a smile and nod, lyric rushed upstairs to her bedroom and opened the closet door to locate a presentable outfit that was not too laid back nor over the top, but something that was comfortable and fashionable enough to locate the missing noir. no matter what the occasion may be, lyric wasn’t gonna be too flashy nor look like she just rolled out of bed! she settled for an aqua blue top that was slightly cropped at the bottom to expose a bit of her abdomen with a mural of a geisha patterned with black, white, gold, and salmon. she paired this one pop of color with black cargo pants, black bomber jacket, and a classic pair of black chuck taylor’s. she placed the ensemble on the bed and left her bedroom to perform her hygienic ritual in the bathroom before returning to don her outfit for the day. lyric removed her scarf and adjusted her dark, long, natural hair to her liking with the heat of her straightening iron, the stroke her detangling brush, and the spritz of the heat protection spray to ease the guilt of damage. there was no harm in the addition of her signature eyeliner, mascara, and lastly—the brown lip liner and gloss combo painted on her full lips that were the icing on the cake of her everyday look. as for accessories, her ears were adorned with the cherished pair of golden hoops she was gifted for her 13th birthday, and the simple, black crossbody satchel that was her go to for whatever she needed for any journey.

“alright, ma. i’m going out to get your fast tail granddaughter back home!” lyric’s voice echoed out after jogging downstairs to wait by the front door to her crystal respond, “okay, honey! be safe and i love you. don’t stay out too long, now.” lyric reciprocates the farewell before bolting out of the door and into the front yard. it was a sunny day with a moderate fall-like temperature, not too hot nor too cold. her legs moved like clockwork as the falling leaves made a crunching sound beneath her sneakers. lyric squints and furrows her brows as she starts to look around the perimeter of the house, her mind started to go into overdrive mode, thinking of what that sneaky ass cat is up to. god, i just pray she’s not lost in a cornfield or behind a barn getting knocked up by some stray. now, i know i raised her better—but then again, i ain’t get her fixed.

after frantically searching all around the front and backyards, lyric made one more final decision before she could take her search further out into town: the next door neighbors. the chances were low, but never zero. besides, she was going to have to cross paths with them anyway. she took another deep breath and placed her hands in her jacket pockets as the autumn breeze picked up with her feet leading her to the home. it was a brisk 2 minute walk. she stopped and her head leaned up to read the hung up wooden sign that read, KENT FARM— and she wasted no time to walk on the property. to say it was just big was an understatement. as lyric ventured down the dirt path of the driveway, her eyes perused the land that possessed animals such as horses, cows, and pigs. she attempted to not contort her face at the new, pungent smells that filled her nose.

i don’t wanna be rude to these people, but ugh! this is nothing short of a farm. i’d better get used to this though.

the abode itself resembled the classic farmhouse with the white picket fence aesthetic. it was a vibrant, lemon yellow two story house with white trimming on the windows and a welcoming porch with white, wooden steps that creaked as lyric’s feet gingerly ascended before approaching the door and checking to see if any cars were parked that indicated the presence of her new neighbors. once she spotted the parked red pickup truck, she took that as her cue to knock on the front door. in the brief time she waited for someone to come to the door, her head turned to the left to find a colossal, vibrant red barn. it seemed to have an open window and what looked like to be a telescope protruding. lyric’s mind began to wander again, but instead of panic, it was serenity.

that looks like a dope spot to stargaze and listen to some stevie. ain’t nothing like your own personal quiet place.

her thoughts were halted at the sound of the front door hinges creaking opening to reveal a couple around her parents age, they both greeted lyric with a “good morning” and benevolent grins which gave her a warm feeling. the wife was a few inches shorter than lyric with auburn hair, blue eyes, and rosy lips. as for the husband, he was towering over both of the females with sandy, blonde curls, sculpted jawline, and blue eyes as well. lyric regained her focus and introduced herself.

“hey—good mornin’! my name’s lyric james. my family and i just moved in last night in the house next door. it’s very nice to meet you mr. and mrs.—“ she paused to lead them to their names to politely address them like how she was raised. with a smile, she held out her hand to give each adult a handshake before the husband reciprocated the salutation on their behalf,

“well, lyric, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you and welcome to the neighborhood! mr. and mrs. kent will do, but when you feel comfortable, my name is jonathan and this is my wife, martha.”

“lyric—what a lovely name. we definitely look forward to meeting the rest of your family very soon and welcome to smallville. is there anything we can help you with, honey?” martha enthusiastically chimed, that sunshine smile reappearing that compelled lyric to return a dimpled simile of her own as a result of that welcoming compliment.

“ah, thank you both so much! first, i just wanna let ya’ll know you have a lovely home. second, if it isn’t such a bother— did ya’ll happen to see a black cat with these big, yellow eyes, no collar, and sneaky? i mean—she has a collar, but because i was so tired, i forgot to put it on her last night. her name is noir. she likes to wander off sometimes and i was wondering if ya’ll seen her around here? i understand if you haven’t, i was making sure before i start putting her face everywhere in town.” lyric’s face heated with embarrassment as she dumped her predicament on these lovely folks, she takes her hands that were previously tucked in her pockets and fidgeted with them. who knew that one kitty could cause this teenager this much stress and chaos? lyric knew, but in this circumstance? give a girl a break.

after lyric drops the cat’s exact description, realization set in martha’s mind and the gears started turning in her brain.

lyric. what a friendly and polite girl! she must be the cat’s owner. the same cat that snuck into the barn and the same cat that clark was currently caring for. not to mention that she’s a sight for sore eyes! this girl could use a trusting and kind first friend in a new place. who better than clark? maybe this was the fresh face that could bring him out of this lana funk.

an invisible light bulb popped out of martha’s head, her smile never ceasing at her clever thinking. it was now martha’s turn to respond to lyric.

“oh, no! that’s unfortunate. we have a son who’s he’s about your age. his name is clark and he would definitely be of service to help find what you’re looking for. he’s actually in that barn right over there.” her auburn bob sways as her head tilts in the direction of the barn, a nonverbal signal for lyric to take a look.

“are you sure about that, mrs. kent? i don’t wanna bother nobody with my problem.” lyric questioned, using one of her hands to brush a piece of hair out of her face.

“i’m positive, lyric! one thing about clark kent, when there’s a call for help, he’ll answer. i’m sure he’d be happy to assist you!” martha said with a reassuring grin.

lyric reciprocated with a grin and nodded her head in approval.

“by the way you’re hyping him up, he sounds pretty cool. alright, mrs. kent, you got a deal. i’ll take you up on that! again, i really appreciate your help! you said that barn over there, right?” lyric pointed to the left.

lyric took the kent’s nods as approval to give them a wave, walk down to the porch steps, and make her brief trip to the red barn with the telescope in the window. the entrance was already opened, giving her easy access. she looked around to see the piles of hay and various farming tools and machinery. her head turned to one side, then the other to see if she could spot the mysterious clark. her gaze then shifted to the beige, wooden staircase that led to the next level.

“here goes something.” she mutters under breath, her legs carrying her to the staircase to get the next lead in finding the missing noir.

“hello! is anybody up there?!” she called out as she ascended.

clark was still in the loft. he was lounging on the sofa with noir comfortably laying across his lap, softly purring and snoozing the day away after a snack and some playtime with a laser pen that clark found. he was now waiting for lyric’s arrival to retrieve her furry companion. his heightened sense of hearing and open window worked in his favor when he heard the recent conversation between the girl and his parents in the distance. that soft voice he heard last night confirmed the match for the voice of the new girl next door. last night, her tone conveyed raspiness and exhaustion, but while conversing with his parents, it was soothing and pleasant to the ear, sensitive or not. he was content in knowing that the feline, noir (now that he finally knew her name) had a caring owner and home. he also couldn’t help, but simper bashfully at hearing his mother’s compliment about his willingness to help others. his cheeks glowing red when lyric enthusiastically agreed and the two were only seconds from meeting. she already thinks i’m cool even though we haven’t met. that’s—interesting.

clark’s thoughts came to a halt when he hears footsteps and that same voice calling out for another human— well, being in his case. him and noir perked up and glanced in the direction of the footsteps that were approaching closer to his exact location. noir let out a mewl that louder than normal.

“noir? noir! is that—“ lyric gains speed at the sound of a “meow” that belonged to the onyx kitty she’s missed so dearly. once she made it to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner, her movements ceased to find a boy sitting on the couch. clark turned his head in her direction. a kind smile that revealed his pearly canines appeared as he gingerly scooped noir in his arms and approached lyric. silence filled the room as they inspected each other’s features for a moment before speaking.

as clark was standing, lyric could tell he was in the 6’0+ range of height. his hair was dark like hers, but he had ivory skin, benevolent aqua blue eyes, sculpted jawline, and rosy lips. he resembled the prince in that little mermaid movie that lyric always enjoyed as a child—after some years, she’s realized it wasn’t just the songs that drawn her in.

clark curiously gazed at the girl before him. she was at average height. he noticed her medium earthy skin tone complimented her deep brown eyes, long, natural dark hair, and shimmery, full lips. he knew that it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that she was pleasant to the eyes. the teen’s conscious’ brought them down to earth before they awkwardly stammered their introductions in sync,

“hey! i’m—“

“hi! my name’s—“

“sorry—“

“my bad—“

they both respond with a brief chortle before clark chimes in,

“ladies first.”

“oh, right! um, my name’s lyric james aka, your new neighbor and owner of that fast tail cat you got.”

lyric gives the boy an amicable grin and playfully glares at noir. she holds out her arms towards clark’s and he instantly takes the cue to hand noir back in lyric’s awaiting arms. he beams as she embraces the feline, her knuckles nuzzling between the ears and pecking her head.

“god, don’t you ever do that to me again. i’m too young to have a heart attack, but i’ve missed you, girl!” she affectionately murmured.

“i’m clark kent by the way! it’s really nice to meet you, lyric.” he holds out his hand and patiently waits as she shifts noir into one arm, popping her on her torso like an infant and reaching her hand to grasp his in the friendly exchange.

“nice to meet you! your mom talked a good game about you helping those who need it. it looks like you really came through and i appreciate that, clark. this is noir and i’m sorry that she snuck over here disturbing your peace, but i forgot to put her tag on, so that’s on me.” lyric confessed, looking at her cat with the expression of a disappointed mother before gleaming in gratitude towards the farm boy.

“hey, it’s no problem, really. this sounds a bit embarrassing, but i’m relieved she snuck in. i was feeling kinda lonely up here and she cheered me up. plus, i got the chance to meet you and get out of doing my chores for a while.”

they briefly laugh before lyric chimes in,

“hey, there’s nothing embarrassing about that! trust, when i’m feeling down, i can count on this gremlin to bring some excitement to my day. even if she get on my everlasting nerves with her shenanigans, wandering off being the biggest issue—now, that you said it, she got me out of doing my chores too!” they laugh again as she playfully rolled her eyes before quickly spotting two empty bowls on the ground. she snickered to herself at her what her mother referred to this morning and it didn’t go unnoticed by clark.

“care to let me in on the joke?” clark wittingly quizzed.

“i think it’s funny how when i was looking for noir this morning and told my mom about it, she said it was because noir was just looking for a snack and that i got her spoiled. it looks like you gave my baby the royal treatment, huh?” lyric chuckled and gestured to the empty bowls.

clark reciprocated his own laughter before he replied,

“i just wanted to make sure she was taken care of before her owner came back. it’s the least i could do for her after she cheered me up! i’m just glad that she has a good home. even though it hasn’t been very long, i think i’ll miss noir when she goes.”

“well, clark, if you want to see noir again, you can! that’s if—you let me kick it with ya’ll. i won’t lie, it’d be nice to know someone when i start at smallville high on monday. you cool with that?” lyric proposes, raising an arched brow and a smirk playing on her lips. inwardly, she didn’t want to put the pressure on by dropping the “f” bomb on him just yet. not until they get to know each other better. lyric wasn’t opposed to it and she got the vibe from clark that he felt the same, especially with the way they hit it off.

the infectiousness of the action caused clark to smile and nod in agreement.

“i’m cool with that. ah! i’m such an idiot.” he jokingly pinches the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “i’ve probably kept you waiting here all day when you’ve got stuff to do at your place. i’ll walk you home?” that was always the gentlemanly thing to do and clark wanted to make a good impression on his new neighbor who would hopefully want to join him and his small circle of friends starting monday. as they walked down the stairs and out of the barn towards her home, they continued to their small talk for the brief duration of the stroll. he asked the basics of where she was from before moving to smallville, what her life was like there, her family, school, and how she’s adjusting to the new house so far. clark felt a sense of nostalgia. he hasn’t walked down this path towards that house in months, it was refreshing.

they stopped and reached their final destination. clark took it upon himself to walk lyric up to the door while still keeping a safe distance behind her. her father had yet to get extra keys made, so she had to knock on the door. as they waited, lyric turned her body to face his with an appreciative expression and broke the ice,

“hey—all jokes aside, it was really nice of you for taking care of noir until i got her. thanks again! i get a good vibe from you, clark kent. there’s just somethin’ about you. one day, the whole world will see it and they’ll appreciate it like i do.”

clark couldn’t count on his fingers how many times this girl has made him laugh or smile within these several minutes.

“it’s no problem, lyric. it doesn’t hurt to give back to others, whether they’re covered in fur or not. i’m just happy that i can do some good in this world.”

clark reaches over to pet noir on her head one last time before the door swings open to reveal an older african-american woman that looked to be about the same age as his mother. it didn’t take clark’s x-ray vision to see where lyric got her looks from. her mother’s skin tone and eyes matched with lyric’s, her straightened shoulder length hair was dark and shiny. she smiled and greeted the teens with full red lips and the familiar dimples that clark once saw on her daughter’s face. lyric introduces her mother, crystal, to clark and vice versa. crystal was immensely impressed with the farm boy’s manners, politeness, and small town charm. in smallville, chivalry would never die.

after they both make their acquaintance, crystal leaves the two alone to finish unpacking. lyric urges clark to stay put for a second before heading upstairs to her bedroom to put noir’s collar on and places the cat on her bed. she digs into one of those household junk drawers where one could find the items needed at the right time. she retrieved a pack of her mother’s post-it notes and a pen before she power walked to still find clark waiting patiently on the porch, standing with his hands in his jean pockets.

“like i said, if you want to see noir, don’t be a stranger, alright?” she handed him the packet of notes and the pen, “you know what to do, clark.”

“you got it, lyric!” he took the pen and wrote down the digits of the kent’s landline before giving the items back to her.

“when we get our phone in order, i’ll hit you up, so you can save mine. until then, if i’m not doing anything moving-wise, would you like for noir and i to swing by the barn tomorrow? i mean, that’s if you’re good with—“

“i’d love to see you both.” he interrupted her with the same enthusiastic tone. both teens nod with a smile on their faces to confirm their meeting the next day. clark watched and waited until lyric was safely in the house before he traveled back to his own.

maybe this fresh new start wasn’t so bad for the both of them. life will always come with change whether we want to or not, it’s all about what one is to do with that change. how could they adjust? for clark and lyric, they adjusted by the absence of a sneaky, onyx feline. this could be the beginning of a refreshing new era of friendship between the farm boy and the new girl next door.

[moneymartin]

OKOK SO I JUST SAW THE NOTIF!!

so hear me out…maybe reader is like a fam friend of Kate’s. They were best friends and played together all the time. They went to Iowa together, and are roommates. Reader plays volleyball, soccer, softball, wtv you want. And like a slow burn friends to lovers!!?? (i’m a whore for friends to lovers) i’m talking mutual pining, years of attraction and feelings…literally brewing for 22 years (kate’s going to be 24 soon, so like they’re moms were bestfriends so Kate and readers friendship started when they were like 2?)

PLSPLSPLSPLS IF U CAN!?😋

・❥・- no hard feelings.

summary: basically the req lol. r plays soccer at uoi and kate is a nervous wreck 😭

warnings: none rlly… just the use of y/n if that even counts as one??? 💀

rpf!!! don’t read it if ur uncomfortable 😣

wc: 2.25k

a/n: not my usual stuff, i know. i’ve just been itching to write something about kate :( plz don’t unfollow me guys and don’t leave me mooties </3 🤧 i swear i’m going back on my yjs grind once school ends. every divider is a timeskip btw cuz this is lowk long and im layz asfk… also kind of messy i’m so sorry

NOT PROOFREAD!!!!

22 years. you and kate have been friends for 22 fucking years, and she hasn’t picked up yet. your very obvious feelings for her are starting to fade the more she’s been avoiding them. it sucks so fucking much.

these stupid feelings started when both of you ended up at the same university and the same dorm. you never saw kate in that light. she was your mom’s best friend’s kid, and the rest was history. you played tackle football with her when she had nobody else to play with, practiced basketball with her. you two were practically attached to the hip. the same elementary, middle school, highschool, and the same damn college.

it wasn’t like you could just leave too. the scholarship you were offered for soccer was totally worth the taking, and you couldn’t leave behind the team either. the first few times you gained feelings for kate was when you were in middle school. ‘experimenting’ with your feelings. well, that was your guys’ excuse after you two losers got caught by her mom. after that it was just dating stupid boys to get your head out of it and your head off of kate. thankfully, she was trying to do the same exact solution. you knew a lot about her.

but the one thing you didn’t know was that she felt the exact same. she was just too scared to say it. its not like she wants to lose a 22 year friendship over her uncontrollable feelings. first thing she did was go to caitlin, and she was practically freaking the hell out over it. cait was definitely the anchor between the both of you. helping you with accidental arguments so you didn’t lose kate, helping you out with what to say when she was upset. it was good having someone like that, but it was so incredibly stressful having to consistently ask for some sort of advice.

eventually you were tired of it. tired of waiting for something to happen. waiting for a move to be made by kate or maybe just a few little hints that kept you going. although you couldn’t anymore. it was draining, like someone who didn’t realize what you felt about them. you told caitlin everything after that reality set in for you. it was the blinding of your feelings that let everything slip through your mind and basically fly over your head. how could you be so naive to believe that she did and you were just trying hard for nothing in return. it was dumb, and you knew that much.

one night after a long day of testing and practice, you stumble your way into your dorm, the door locked and a frown crossing your face. the keys were in your stupid locker. “open the door, please..” you murmur, voice tired and confused. you bring your fist up to the door and knock softly, the sound of the lock clicking and the door creaking open. “jeez. soccer must’ve been a pain in the ass. you look like shit.” kate laughs, grabbing your arm gently to stable your body. letting out a heavy huff of breath, you lean slightly into her and drop your arms to your sides. “tell me about it.” she smiles and hoists you up carefully, locking the door and bringing you to the living room.

the moment your butt hits the couch cushion you let out a soft sigh and look at kate, her big stupid and soft eyes locking onto yours. the corners of your lips curl up slightly and you snicker, raising your eyebrows. “do you really wanna know? cause its a stupid story.” you exaggerate and rub the back of your neck. kate takes the spot next to you and nods continuously, her head leaning onto your shoulder. “trust me, dude. i wanna hear it.”

“kay, well… coach dilanni was being a total douche about what i wanted to practice. i mean, its fucking practice for a reason. i’m supposed to practice what i need to practice! not what he wants me to practice.” your voice gets a little low and you start to slur out your words. the repeated words and slow murmurs make her laugh a little, her arm hooking around your neck and bringing your head towards hers. “and he gave me so much attitude. like, the more i tried to defend myself the more he spoke over me. the old head was thinking about benching me during the champ game!!!” you blurt out and let out a groan.

she starts to realize just how tired you are and pouts, her head moving away, and her hands cupping your face. your head involuntarily moves to stare at hers, your eyes half open, your lips pursed slightly, and your head dropped down a little. “he looks like a nice old guy but deep down that man has some serious problems,” you grumble. “and don’t even get me started on the tests i had to take.” kate’s eyebrows raise and her face stills for a moment when you bury your face deep into her neck. your breath tickles at her skin and she feels shivers running up and down her back. you’re so tired you don’t even realize what you’re doing.

“y/n…” she breathes out heavily and you hear her swallow down whatever she needs to say. your head pulls out and you look at her with big eyes too, just like how she did earlier. water forms in your ducts as you try to fight off the sleepiness, but the way kate is looking at you makes it hard to get off of her. “hm?” you hum and drop your head against her shoulder. “never mind, okay.” her voice drops too and softens a bit, a familiar heat rushing up to your face when she runs her fingers up and down your back.

the warmth of her body and the relief you feel when you hear her voice makes your head spin like crazy. its like she knows what you feel about her and is just doing this to mess with you. the second your eyes shut, kate sucks in a sharp breath in through her teeth and practically manhandles you. gently, of course. but shes picked you up like a damn baby and you don’t have the slightest intention of stopping her from doing it.

your stomach spins and churns awkwardly from the contact. you’ve known kate all your life, but right now it feels like you just saw her on campus for the first time. after you got that news you guys shared a room together. you suddenly get the reminder of your feelings for her, like a shit ton of fireworks igniting in your stomach. more so reigniting. she brushes her fingers up against your face to move a few strands of hair from it.

kate likes you. she really fucking does, and its just the fact that she can’t spit it out no matter how much she wants to. no matter how much she wants to scream it from the rooftop and tell the whole world about how she feels. she thinks you’re the prettiest girl she’s ever seen and she has that gut feeling where she believes that you feel the same way. she isn’t stupid but shes smitten and that’s blinding her as well. just like how it did to you.

“y’know how we’ve been friends for like.. a bajillion years?” she laughs nervously and curls her lips downwards a bit. you know that shes nervous and its starting to make you nervous too. you’re starting to sweat a little underneath your shirt and you can somehow feel it under your skin. “yeah, why?” you ask and open your eyes to look at her face. its all red, her eyes open wide with anxiety, and her mouth slightly parted.

“okay, listen to me and don’t freak out… please.” kate squeaks out and moves her hands away from you. her reactions and jitters cause you to sit up and watch her every move just to make sure she really doesn’t start to freak. theres a feeling in your stomach that can’t really be put into words. it’s that feeling where you wanna throw up because of your nerves and the wanna jump off a bridge before you hear what she says. “i won’t go crazy, you idiot. what’s wrong with you?” you ask with a little chuckle but it quickly fades away when you realize what she’s about to say.

you’re not feeling this because you’re embarrassed of what she’s feeling. you’re just nervous and not used to it. at least thats what you’re telling yourself. there’s a little voice in your head repeatedly telling you to “calm the fuck down!” and it isn’t really helping. your brain is fried from the tiredness you feel too, but this seems really important. “nothing is wrong with me, i just dunno.. need to tell you something before its too late.” she whispers and tilts her head to the side a little, figuring out how she has to say it and if she really should let you know. now that she’s declared that she needs to say this little thing before its ‘too late’ confirms everything you need to know.

“this probably sounds stupid and dumb and i’m going to sound like the biggest loser in the world,” she starts, her voice cracking and her face contorting in different ways you’ve never seen before. in all the years you’ve know kate, shes never been so anxious and nervous about something like this before. its kinda scary. “but i think i’m like.. really in love with you.” she stumbles over her words and buries her face into her hands. it takes you a moment to process what she says as the sleepiness corrupts your mind. “i’m sorry, what?” you mutter.

“i said i like you!!!” kate blurts out and you watch her face turn the reddest you’ve ever seen it. you’ve been with her for almost all of her relationships and this is the first time her face has ever looked like that. her previous partners have never had her like this, they’ve never had her the way you have, and you’re realizing that just now. “oh.” you gulp. the words you’ve been waiting to hear for more than half of your life have finally been said, and it is the greatest relief you’ve ever felt in your life. and everything makes sense now.

the way kate brushes up against you in the halls, the fact she always walks you to your classes no matter how far hers is from it, her taking you to soccer practice, her watching your games like how you watch her, and the fact that you are the reason she blushes like she’s embarrassed herself. although she hasn’t, she’s just so into you, and nothing is gonna change the way she feels. “‘oh?’ is that it?” kate spits out and starts to panic a little. after she’s just admitted, she’s expected something different from you. maybe the same thing? she doesn’t know what she was expecting, it just wasn’t that.

your eyes widen and your face grows redder the longer you stare at her and when your tiny tired peabrain registers that she reciprocates what you feel. “no! that’s not it, stupid, i like you too!” you blurt out as well and push her shoulders. kate has a look of something on her face. you can’t tell what it is but she seems happy about what you said, and that makes your emotions explode. “okay, you know what? i love you, actually! i love you, i love you, i love you!!!!!!!!” you stutter out a bunch of times. years and years of hoping and waiting that she’ll finally do something comes to a stop. “i have my whole damn life.” you murmur, catching your breath slightly from the continuous shouting of your feelings at her. the burning and churning in your stomach goes away and is replaced with a certain sense of relief. a relief that you haven’t felt in ages.

“oh so, you’re serious, serious?”

“yes, okay. i’m not joking, like i meant everything.”

“say you swear or i won’t believe one word you say.”

“i swear on coach dilanni’s life.” you giggle, fingers threading through kate’s blonde strands. her head is propped up on your chest and her eyes are slightly open. you two have been sitting there for about ten minutes, talking about why or how you even got these stupid little feelings for each other. but none of you are complaining. matter of fact, you’re both on the verge of falling asleep but the presence from each other makes you both wanna stay up all damn night if you could.

“he’s not gonna like that...” she murmurs, voice soft and slurring a bit. kate wraps her arms tight around your waist, her head moving into a more comfortable position. your hands are all over the place and you’re basically just messing up her hair, one of her eyes closing when a few strands get in her face. “you have no idea what you’re doing, huh?” her lips turn into that smile you know all too well now, and her eyes closing completely. a yawn escapes from in between your lips and she hears it, snapping her head upwards, that smile turning into a smirk.

“kiss me.”

and you do.

[damthosefandoms]

clothes, shoes, diamond rings, stuff that's driving me insane

(ao3 link) (based on this post)

Summary:

Soda is allowing himself to be selfish, just this once. Just about this. Because they promised, okay?

The diamond’s burning a hole in his pocket.

Soda’s parents have been dead for all of thirteen days, and he doesn’t really feel like a person anymore. He’s had a smile plastered on his face, the same one he’s always got on when the going gets rough—he once grinned his way to the hospital after he fell off a horse and tore his ACL. He kept it going after Mickey Mouse got shipped off to that ranch out in Garyville. He smiles every morning even though he dreads nothing more than going to school.

Finally he’s found something he hates more than school, but he’s still got to keep smiling, because the alternative—the way Darry’s working himself to death or how Ponyboy hasn’t spoken to anyone since they got the news—doesn’t really seem like an option. Their parents wouldn’t want that, Soda thinks… but he’ll never get to ask them what they want ever again.

The hospital sent Darry home with whatever they could salvage from the wreck, when he went to identify them. He and Dally walked back into the house, and Darry ran to the bathroom to throw up—who could blame him, after that?—and Dally wordlessly handed the small package over to Soda.

Their mom’s purse, their dad’s wallet, the rings—the first thing Soda pulled out was his dad’s dogtags, from Korea, where he spent all of the year after Soda was born. He hung the chain around his neck, sat back on the couch, and cried. He doesn’t really remember much else, and hasn't taken them off since. He knows Ponyboy dug through the rest. He probably found the rings in there, Soda assumes, and put it all back in their parents’ room for Darry to pick through later on. At this point, he kind of wishes they’d been lost in the accident, because it would’ve saved him so much grief.

“Why’d you go?” Soda asks him today, as they’re standing out in the stable Buck Merrill keeps his rodeo horses in. His parents—and by extension, now Darry—never allow Soda to come out to Buck’s, not unless they’re going to pick up or drop off Dally, but again: Soda’s parents are dead, and who the hell is going to care? So now he’s spent every afternoon here, the only place he can think when he needs to be alone, while Darry’s distracted trying to do everything all at once, and Ponyboy chainsmokes on the front porch with Johnny.

“Go where?”

“To the hospital. With Darry.”

Dally doesn’t respond for a second. He hands Soda a brush and motions for him to get to work, if he’s going to hang around. The horses aren’t going to groom themselves, and he knows damn well that Soda needs it, in the moment.

“I don’t know, man. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna drive himself that night, was he?”

But Dallas Winston is more complicated than that, and Soda knows it. Dally—by his own admission, if he wasn’t making it up for street cred—has seen a dead body before, and there was one time—once, in the dead of night, in the first few weeks after Dally got back from New York and was sleeping off that whole horrible experience on Soda’s living room couch—where he told Soda about it. Lifeless eyes, and the smell, the cold hands… Soda had forgotten about his midnight snack in favor of forcing a hug on somebody who might’ve stabbed him for it, had he not been at his lowest point. Dally might not be the most mentally stable kid around, but Soda is sure he wouldn’t just willingly put himself through that kind of conversation again.

He has no idea why he even got to hear any of it. He and Dally probably wouldn’t even be friends if they didn’t share a love of horses, or for those times Soda would get so frustrated doing his homework he’d run all the way to the playground and sit on the swings until someone came to find him. Dally would always be there, leaning against the post as Soda swung back and forth, and they’d talk about everything and nothing until Soda’s mom would come marching through the park to them, and would tell—not ask—Dally to come home with them for dinner. And he would.

“You’ve got quite a mom. She knows the score.”

Soda knows that  if his parents had a say, Dally wouldn’t be living above a glorified bar at seventeen years old. They’d also probably not have gotten hit by that train, but you know, semantics.

“That’s a load of bull. You know exactly why you went.”

“Well, if you’re already so sure, don’t ask stupid questions you know the stupid answers to, Curtis.”

The horse he’s brushing lets out a contented whinny, and Soda treasures it. There is some good still left in the world, he tells himself. There are so many things worth keeping your head up for. Like horses, and brothers, even if they’re tearing you apart.  

“For what it’s worth, Dal, my mama really—”

“Why’re you here?” 

Straight to the point, then. Soda reaches into his pocket and pulls out his treasure.

“Shit, man, is that a real diamond?”

“It’s worth more than my whole house.”

And it is. His mom’s engagement ring is a family heirloom; Soda doesn’t know how far back it goes, but it’s been in his dad’s family for generations, and somewhere—very far—back, somebody must’ve had some money, because the stone on his mom’s engagement ring might not be very big, but it’s just as real as anything sitting collecting dust in a soc’s jewelry box. It’s the most precious thing their family owns. Soda closes his fist around the ring and holds it against his chest. It is worth more than his whole house. It’s worth everything… to him.

“My brothers want to bury her with it,” Soda says, trying not to let his voice shake. “They wanna put their rings back on them. But I can’t… they promised me I could have them, one day.  Not just this one, the wedding rings too, to use however I see fit. But they’re mine and I just can’t let them go like that. I don’t give a damn what Ponyboy or Darrel want, if there’s no Will… they’re mine.”

Soda’s dad proposed to his mother after a few months of dating. It kind of came with the territory of getting a girl knocked up at twenty years old, and they sure didn’t have any kind of dream wedding. His mother and father had a marriage license and a tiny ceremony at the church his father grew up going to, with Grandpa Pat and his dad’s brothers as the only witnesses.

His mom’s family wanted nothing to do with her after they found out she was pregnant. Darry’s never even met any of them, and he’s met basically everybody—partially because most of their extended family who stuck around died before Pony was even born, or at least before Soda can remember. Soda keeps wondering to himself these days if his mom’s family will come to the funeral, or if Darry’s wasting stamps on the invitations.

The wedding rings are cheap and probably not worth much at all, but Soda treasures them with his whole heart because he knows what they meant to his parents. 

His dad had come home from work on a bright sunny day in April, and Soda had never heard the word anniversary before, but it made his mama smile when his dad brought it up. He’d brought her flowers and a small box and Soda remembers Ponyboy—two and half years old at the time—was pulling at their mom’s skirt to try to get her attention, but she couldn’t take her eyes off their dad. How Dad had made a whole scene, getting down on one knee. Darry had rolled his eyes and said, “but you’re already married!” as if either of their parents cared.

It wasn’t about that. It was about the gesture. It was about the symbol of their love that they’d gone ten years without, and even if they didn’t need it, it was something they wanted anyway. They were being selfish, but they didn’t care.

In hindsight, Soda thinks that’s the first time he ever realized what true love looks like.

Today, his parents are sitting in a hospital morgue, or maybe a funeral home, or somewhere between—Darry knows the details and Sodapop’s too afraid to ask for specifics—and Soda’s got their rings in his pocket.

And Darry wants to take them from him. The last bit of their parents’ love, and he wants to bury that with their cold, dead bodies. It makes Soda sick.

“Why’d you come to me?” Dallas asks, and this time he’s looking directly at Soda, which is odd, because usually if Dally’s going to help you, he’s at least going to pretend he doesn’t want to. But these days, everyone seems to have lost their minds, so Soda figures it’s just the grief.

“Darry told me to quit bein’ a baby about it. So I am. You’re gonna hide ‘em for me,” Soda says, handing him the rings, “and then we’re gonna go get in a fight, and I’m gonna lie to my brothers.”

Dallas, ever true to himself, doesn’t blink an eye.

---

Soda can’t focus on much of anything, between the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding feeling in his head from being punched right square in the eye, and Dally’s maniacal laughter as he slams the door behind them.

It’s not long before Ponyboy’s leaping up from the couch, crying out, “Who hit ya?!?” and Darry’s stomping through the doorway from the kitchen and demanding to know what the hell happened.

Dally regales Soda’s brothers (and the rest of the gang who seem to have all gathered under their roof just in time for dinner) with a tale that Soda’s sure is only partially accurate to how the rest of their day had gone since they left Buck’s.

It’s the first time any of them have gotten into any sort of trouble since the accident, and to his credit, Ponyboy seems only sort of shaken up at the sight of his brother’s bruised face. He grabs Soda’s hand and leads him into the kitchen, snatches a bag of frozen peas out of the good ol’ ice box and plants it against Soda’s eye. 

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Ponyboy starts to mutter, but Soda ignores him. He doesn’t want to hear it. He has to focus all his energy right now into lying to Darry—the only person he’s never lied to before. Not even a little fib.

His older brother is his hero and his confidant, and it’s hard to look someone like that in the eye and say anything but the truth. Ponyboy, on the other hand, might be Soda’s closest friend and mean everything to him, but god—sometimes you have to lie to your little brother. You know, about things like Santa Claus, and how many girls you’ve kissed, and that he doesn’t look silly when he tucks his shirt in like that.

It’s for Pony’s own good, really. Besides, the kid backed Darry (something he never does!) on the one thing Soda’s wanted for himself since that horrible night, and it’s not fair they chose that moment to agree on something.

“Soda, I know what those rings mean to you, but I just feel like—”

“Do me a favor and can it, Pony.”

Maybe it’s cruel, and he knows that he’s the only reason Ponyboy’s been getting out of bed in the morning lately, but god, they’re still brothers and he’s still angry, and the guilt of being selfish about this is eating him alive. Sue him for snapping. Their parents are fucking dead. He’ll get it together some other time and spend the rest of his life trying to make up for the look on his little brother’s face now.

He hears Dally in the living room, getting to the part where he says they got jumped—and Soda pushes up from his seat at the kitchen table and calls out: “We didn’t get jumped, we got mugged.”

The whole gang is looking at him now, standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the door frame that all the Curtis kids have been measuring their heights on since Grandpa Pat was still in diapers. The whole gang’s marked on there now, too.

It’s not really something anyone talks about, because at the end of the day the result is just the same, but there’s a difference between getting jumped and being mugged. Getting jumped is greasers blowing off steam or socs having fun. Getting mugged is a real crime, somebody dangerous trying to hurt you and take away anything from your wallet to your dignity. It’s something you could actually go to the cops about, because if you word it right, they might even give half a shit. And today Soda’s using that phrasing to get his brothers to believe him. He feels like shit for it. But at least he’s feeling something other than grief.

He’s allowing himself to be selfish after all these years—and an especially hard past thirteen days— of existing solely for others.

“Dal’s just tryna hype me up,” Soda says, and he can feel Pony’s eyes searing into his skin from behind him. “Like he said, he was with me ‘cause I stopped at Buck’s to see the horses before we went to get the rings cleaned. This guy came up when we were walkin’ back, we got in a fight—but he had a heater and you don’t mess around with that.”

Soda has to sell this. He looks at Darry, at his older brother who has just told them a few days earlier how he’s going to sacrifice everything he’s ever worked towards, everything he’s ever held dear or dreamed of, to take care of Sodapop and Ponyboy so they can stay together, and his guilt overtakes him. Suddenly, the tears—familiar as they are—come easily. 

“The rings are gone, Dar.”

And Soda gets his way.

---

It doesn’t matter who the father is. Soda has known what true love looks like since he was five years old and his dad asked his mother to remarry him at home in their tiny kitchen while Darry complained they were being ridiculous and that he was going to be late for football practice. He knows how he feels about Sandy and he doesn’t really care what she did. But he knows what he needs to do to try to make things right.

And maybe that’s why he went to Buck’s that day, stomping right past the old cowboy and up to Dally’s room. Maybe that’s why he picked the lock—hanging out with Two-Bit Mathews kinda lends itself towards learning skills like that—and maybe that’s why Dally finds Soda there, when he should be behind the counter at the DX, tearing his friend’s room apart.

“Hey! You got a death wish or somethin’?” Dally yells, and Soda should probably care more, because he’s got a point—you’ve got to have officially lost it to go digging through Dallas Winston’s stuff.

“Where’re the rings?”

“What?”

“The rings, Dal, my parents’ rings, I need them.”

“You need ‘em.”

“Yeah,” Soda says. “I’m gonna marry Sandy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dally laughs. “Marry her. You are nuts. What’re you doing that for? Don’t you got more to worry about right now?”

“Her parents are makin’ her move to Florida! I oughta make things right, maybe if I do, she’ll stay, you dig?” Soda crosses his arms as he tries to defend himself, and when he notices the look on Soda’s face, Dally’s laughter trails off, like something else has occurred to him.

“…No fuckin’ way, Sodapop Curtis, you did not.”

Dally’s got his signature shit-eating grin spreading across his face, and even with everything going on in the last week, he’s got the nerve to laugh.

“No, I didn’t, and don’t you start judgin’ me, Dallas, ‘cause it ain’t like you didn’t go back to your girl after she did the same damn thing, an’—and Sandy—she…”

Soda’s voice trails off when his eyes land on a navy-blue sweatshirt thrown over the back of Dally’s relatively-unused desk chair.

The sleeves are cut off, just like the tags.

The color drains from Soda’s face. He feels sick.

“You know where they are.”

“The rings? Yeah, yeah, they’re in—”

Soda snatches the sweatshirt off the chair—the one that used to be his, that Ponyboy wears everywhere now that it fits him better, the one that he was wearing on Friday night—and holds it up with two shaking hands.

“Ponyboy was here, wasn’t he? He— where is he, Dally?”

Dally doesn’t answer, just lights another cigarette, and Soda’s lip starts to tremble. His stomach twists. He can’t help it, and he’s been accused of faking it before, to get out of going to school, or because he didn’t want whatever was being made for dinner and he’s picky, or because of a million other reasons. It’s exhausting being the local crybaby when you genuinely can’t help it. When you’re a nearly seventeen-year-old boy and you shouldn’t ever shed a tear over anything but your body can’t seem to get the memo.

Crying is as cathartic for him as fighting is. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop, and the thing is, he’s so insanely jealous of people like Johnny Cade, who in all their years of knowing each other Soda’s only ever seen cry once—when those socs beat the living hell out of him—and Dallas, who makes the thought of it seem laughable. Real hard to break the kid who’s beyond broken.

“Don’t fuckin’—hey, Sodapop, don’t you fuckin’ cry, man.”

He tries. He sniffs. Dally groans and presses his palms into his eyes exasperatedly. Soda wipes at his face with his sleeve. 

“Can’t help it.”

“Would you just—ugh.” Dally looks around the room, and then walks over to the desk, ripping the drawer open and digging around for something. He throws whatever it is on the desk, and grabs Soda, shoving him into the chair. 

“Write him a letter, or some shit. I’ll make sure it gets to him, but I’m only doin’ this once, so make it count, man. I’ll go find those rings for you so you can get the hell out.”

Dally turns on his heel and walks out, and Soda hears him mutter something along the lines of “fuckin’ Crybaby Curtis over here” as he walks out.

Soda reaches for the pen with his right hand, puts it on the paper and prints his brother’s name in shaky chicken scratch. He sniffs again and bites back some tears, switching the pen to his left and getting comfortable. 

Well, I guess you got into some trouble, huh?

Dally comes back twenty minutes later and asks if Soda can read his own handwriting.

Doesn’t matter, because he knows Ponyboy can figure it out, backwards letters and all.

Soda heads back home, fidgeting with his parents’ rings in his coat pocket. He daydreams about proposing to Sandy, twirling her around with the sun shining through the kitchen window. She’s supposed to look like an angel. She’s supposed to look like there’s nothing else in the world but the two of them. But in his mind she doesn’t, she won’t meet his eyes, and the kids at the dinner table laughing at them don’t look anything like him.

---

The holidays are coming up. It doesn’t feel like it, not with so many people missing from their lives.

Soda kicks off his sneakers by the door, takes in the sight of his poor little brother, laying back on the couch with cartoons blaring on the television set. Soda figures it could be worse; this time a month ago, he was still in a borderline catatonic state over what happened to their friends, and now he’s got his sketchbook back out. Soda pretends he can’t see the extra attention Pony’s paying to the shape of Johnny’s big, dark eyes and hangs his coat up.

He slips into the kitchen and expects dinner to be getting cold already, since Darry’s getting out early these days due to the weather and lack of light, but instead there’s nothing in there but Darry with his head down on the table.

“You feelin’ alright?” Soda asks, and he goes to feel Darry’s forehead, but his brother just lifts his head, and shakes it.

“I wish Santa Claus was real,” Darry mumbles, and Soda tries to feel his forehead again, ‘cause that’s quite a statement for the almost twenty-one-year-old, and Darry bats his hand away.

“You know what I really wish, Soda? I wish we still had Mom and Dad’s rings. Especially Mom’s engagement ring.”

Soda hopes he doesn’t look as green as he feels.

“You’re the one who wanted to bury them,” he mutters, and he hopes Darry doesn’t see him swallow.

“An’ now I think you had the right idea. I mean, glory, selling that diamond alone could go a long way.” Darry laughs humorlessly. 

“I ain’t got a clue how in the hell I’m supposed to get y’all presents this year. We got the hospital bill today, you know. From when Pony got sick after Windrixville, and… I think I can get help from the state for some of it, but it’s cutting it close, Soda. Ain’t gonna be no spending money, even with you helpin’ out. I mean, it’s gonna be so close—with the electric bill, the hot water—”

Soda thinks about the rings, sitting buried in an old shoebox underneath his bed, in his old room just down the hall. He thinks about how horrible he felt last January, looking Darry in the eyes and lying to him, saying he lost part of their parents forever. How that diamond ring, their only real family heirloom, burned a hole in his pocket as he asked Dally to help him keep it safe where his brothers couldn’t take it from him, because you couldn’t trust Dallas Winston for little things but he was always, always good for his word when it came to something that mattered.

Soda’s given everything to his brothers this last year, and maybe he’s given all of himself to everyone his whole life, but today—today he’s still going to be selfish, because he deserves it, just for this one thing.

“The holidays ain’t really about presents, Darrel,” he says, sitting down and putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. 

“We oughta just be glad we have each other, ‘cause god knows we don’t have much of anything else.”

Except their parents’ rings. But he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to convince himself he deserves this. Even if it makes him sick.

Because his parents loved each other, and they loved him, and they promised.

[sp1ty0urh34rt0ut]

✩ what are their favorite things about you? ✩

꒰ pile one ꒱ ꒰ pile two ꒱

꒰ pile three ꒱ ꒰ pile four ꒱

one of their favorite things about you is how committed you are to your traditions. you have strong beliefs that you don’t plain on changing and you’re very stable when it comes to your morals and expectations from others. another one of their favorite things is your ability to multitask and take on many responsibilities at once. you may be working two jobs, going to school while also working, or taking care of someone at home & they admire how mature and responsible you are. their favorite thing is that you’re continuing to work for your dreams despite anything that may “hold you back.” your love and care for others, as well as yourself, is another one of their favorite things about you. you seem to have endless amounts of love and you’re more than happy to share that love with those are able to receive it. this can mean that you’re very generous with your money and belongings; you wouldn’t mind giving away a shirt you liked to someone who seemed to love it.

their favorite thing about you is how secret you are with your stability and your income. you don’t like to speak too much about how much money you make, how make it or even where you work at. your job in itself may be something you keep secret on purpose; maybe you’re an exotic dancer and/or a sex worker so you don’t really talk about it too much for safety reasons. another one of their favorite things about you is how cooperative you are during arguments & disagreements. you’re not someone who yells just to yell, and you’re not one to escalate the situation. you’re good at keeping your cool in tense situations and you respond gracefully in these situations - and yet, you’re still able to state your truth and come across as someone who knows what they’re talking about. you’re good at getting your point across without having to get disrespectful. you also stand up for your loved ones when needed, which is another one of their favorite things about you. you seem to be a very peaceful, intelligent and private person which they love because it shows your maturity and wisdom.

their favorite thing about you is your work ethic and how you’re able to progress in secret. you use your intuition for your benefit and you make the best moves because of it. you know when to work towards something, when to relax, when to take a break, when to return etc. another one of their favorite things is your ability to walk away, even in situations where you poured a lot of your love and energy. you could fall in love with someone, but you’ll walk away and leave it all behind if you really need to, and you won’t look back. you may be someone who works in the night time, or you just become really creative and expressive once the sun goes down, which is another one of their favorite things because it kinda makes you mysterious to them, for some reason. they wonder what you do that keeps you up all night (if they don’t know you well.) another one of their favorite things about you is how guarded you are when it comes to your passion - you’re not someone to easily express your love and passion for things. when it comes to love, you love hard, so you’re extremely guarded when it comes to your heart. just because you’re able to walk away from someone you love doesn’t mean this is something you want.

their favorite thing about you is how you go after your passion despite all the stress and anxiety you have simply by just thinking about it. you do have a lot of fears and worries, but you gather the strength and courage to push through tough situations. you always look forward to the future and you’re not afraid of starting over or starting something completely new. another one of their favorite things about you is your hair - it really draws them in and accentuates your features in the best way possible. they also really love your athleticism and how you’re always active. if you’re not athletic, then they just genuinely love your physical body and how you’re shaped. another thing they favor about you is your jewelry, specifically your necklace(s). they also really like your talents and skills - you may be really good at something that is unusual, like juggling. another one of their favorite things is your creative abilities and how imaginative you are. you may have very interesting dreams and they love listening to what you dream about.

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 5 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, eventual smut

word count: 12.1k

chapter warnings: jeon jungkook, seventeen is here because i needed fill-ins (also they’re not singers but their music still canonically exists in-universe so good luck figuring that one out), a wedding!, tae is WHIPPED, the infamous butt debate, jealousy (plural), jimin has terrible timing, alcohol consumption ft. a drinking game, a mega cliffhanger i’m so sorry

a/n: while not required, i highly recommend reading the prequel drabble if you haven’t yet as it has some heavy relevance to this part and the next! special thanks to @btsborahaee and @jeonwiixard for beta-ing this chapter and letting me gush and brainstorm in their inboxes on the regular <3 also, shout outs to @animeniacss and @taegularities for sprinting with me all the time (and a forehead kiss to rid for coming up with the idea for the bathroom scene, mwah)!

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Read on ao3

"After today, I never want to see a ribbon ever again."

Jimin fumbles his fingers over the thin string, throwing his hands up in a huff when the slippery material resists his efforts to tie it. With Hoseok and Sunny's wedding only two weeks away, you'd offered to help out with some of the prep work, and Taehyung suggested hosting a mini prep party at your apartment as part of his efforts to make new memories since you'd moved back. True to his word, he’s been at your place nearly every day the past few weeks, cooking dinner with you and rewatching your favorite shows from high school.

You have to admit it’s been pleasantly domestic.

"It's not that bad," you say, finishing off your own ribbon around one of the tiny boxes of chocolate which will be distributed to each of the two-hundred-plus guests as a wedding favor.

"No, I'm serious. I don't even want to tie my shoes anymore. I'm a Crocs guy now."

"I've heard girls love sport mode," Taehyung quietly teases. "Is that right, Y/N?"

The flirtatiousness of his tone startles you, and your eyes snap up to meet his where he sits across from you at the dining room table. He's smiling one of those mischievous grins that makes your stomach churn, belly lurching when he stuns you with a wink before turning back to his own tiny box.

What the fu—

"If any of you show up to my wedding in Crocs, I'm kicking you out," Sunny grumbles.

Hoseok smacks his lips as he ties off a ribbon. "Does that also go for—"

"You as well, yes."

Your group settles into a momentary silence at her declaration—not a sound besides the ripple of ribbon and paper. At least until—

“I got laid wearing Crocs once.”

The entire table groans in unison, and you toss a bit of balled up wrapping paper at Jungkook's chest that bounces pathetically to the floor as Jimin boos. “No one cares about your sexcapades, Kook.”

“What, it was impressive!” he argues. “Just be thankful I'm not bringing any of them to the wedding.”

“I almost wish you were,” Hoseok grumbles. “You'd better not be picking up anyone inappropriate that night. Sisters, cousins, aunts—”

“That was one time!”

“—and anyone else even remotely close to family are off limits.”

Jungkook is quiet for a long moment, pouting to himself, before he says, “Moms?”

The table boos again, more bits of wrapping paper flying his way.

“I'm kidding! Kidding!”

“Actually, Y/N,” Sunny murmurs, leaning towards you. “I hate to bring it up, but are you planning on bringing anyone else in Jace’s place?” Her expression is one of compassionate regret, with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, but the question still hits you low in your chest, knocking the wind out of you.

“I feel terrible asking,” she continues, “but one of my friends from high school originally declined a plus-one, and now she’s asking if there’s any way we can squeeze in this guy she met two weeks ago, and normally I’d tell her no, there’s no way I can change the head count two weeks out and who is this guy anyway, but then I figured that we do technically have an extra spot so we could fit him in, but I’d definitely give you the option to bring someone else first if you wa—“

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to ignore the way everyone else around the table is now looking on in sympathy. “I have no one else to bring. Let her guy come.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” It feels like you’re dying inside, but you try to look unbothered, especially since you can feel Taehyung’s eyes on you. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Sunny quietly agrees, just as Hoseok suddenly jumps in at her side.

“You know, Tae isn’t bringing anyone to the wedding either,” he says, looking between the two of you. “Why don’t you just go together?”

“I’m also going alo—“ There’s a thump under the table and Jungkook immediately shuts his mouth.

You glance at Taehyung, who’s looking back at you with a dip in his eyebrows and parted lips. It was probably a given that you would spend time at the wedding hanging out already, but wouldn’t going together mean something else entirely? A promise of dancing and proximity and a label the two of you have never shared?

Perhaps that’s the reason why he’s staring at you with a touch of discomfort. Your own skin prickles at the thought, and so you scratch away the itch at your chin and deflect.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to.” Then you stand from the table sharply, hitting your limits with this conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

You head for the bathroom, not even needing to do anything in there, but sure that you can busy yourself for a few minutes to get your emotions under control away from your friends. But as you’re about to swing the door shut behind you, a large hand reaches out to stop it with a thud, and Taehyung quickly slips in before closing the door himself.

“Tae, what are you—“

“Come with me.”

You’re practically chest-to-chest, and if not for the fact that you’ve stopped breathing with his question, you’d probably be pressed up against him in the tight space.

“What?”

He licks his lips, pulls in air through his nose like he’s bracing himself.

“Come to the wedding with me.”

The room is heavy with silence as his request fully sinks in, the air between you thick and hot as you try to get some of it into your lungs. It’s hard, though, to develop a coherent thought with him standing so close—his scent engulfing you and dark, searching eyes fixated on your expression.

“I don’t kno—“ you begin, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Why not? Like Hobi said, neither of us is bringing anyone already.” His fingers brush yours—an apology for mentioning it again. “So why not go together and…not be as alone.”

You shift on your feet. “But you do know that you don’t have to do this. I’m fine without a plus one. There’s no shame in it for me.”

“Y/N,” he huffs. “You know that I like being around you, right?” He nudges gently against the underside of your chin, making you look at him directly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if I didn’t.”

You’re still skeptical—nervous about the implications of what this would look like, especially when you just got out of a relationship. To you, it feels very much like teasing a boundary. But Taehyung is all nerves in front of you, gaze darting up-and-down your face and a tiny pull at the corner of his mouth telling you that he’s chewing on his lip.

And of course, because it’s him, you cave.

“Okay.”

He beams and, not for the first time, you feel your chest lighten at the sight of his boxy smile. “Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, smiling back.

“Okay.” Almost impossibly, his grin gets even wider, and you can see the wheels begin to turn in his head. “Do you have a dress picked out yet? What color is it? I can match you.”

It takes you aback. You wouldn’t have even thought about that. “Emerald green.”

“Emerald green,” he repeats, something registering behind his eyes, and he licks his lips again. “Okay. Great.”

He shifts like he's getting ready to leave, but you catch his fingers to reel him back. And you hate to put it out there, hate to even bring it up, but after everything you’ve been through, you need the clarity.

“And Tae,” you say, “this isn’t a date, right?”

He gives a slow blink, a wave of unknown emotion rippling from forehead to chin before he smiles gently at you, eyes softening at the corners. “Of course not.”

You nod. “Okay.” And a small part of you feels…disappointed?

But there's no time to dwell on it as he exits the bathroom, and you follow him out in spite of doing exactly zero bathroom things. You return to the dining room together, your friends clearly trying to look nonchalant as they diligently work on their party favors but being way too quiet to not have been trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Sunny,” Taehyung says as you take your seats, looking positively brighter. “Just make sure we're sitting next to each other, yeah?”

She snorts. “As if you were anywhere else to begin with.”

Blue skies stretch endlessly in front of you, wind running through your hair and sunlight filtering in through the sunroof as you and Taehyung make the trip to the lakeside resort where Hoseok and Sunny are to be married. He's the absolute picture of relaxation in the driver's seat, wearing sunglasses and a mindless smile with his fingers wrapped delicately around the steering wheel like vines.

He'd opened the door for you when he picked you up, a seemingly spontaneous gesture that had left you both shy and blushing. But if the afternoon started with a touch of unusual awkwardness between you, the prospect of your “not a date” wedding date making itself known, it has since evaporated in the hot summer air. At this point, you’ve spent the past hour chatting, playing road trip games (Taehyung somehow destroying you in the alphabet game in spite of having to focus on driving), and burning through three boxes of Pepero.

“These are an addiction, I swear,” you say, crunching down on a chocolate-filled stick and clapping your hands in delight. Taehyung’s eyes leave the road for a second as he takes you in and grins.

“Was that the last of it?”

“Oh.” You peer into the box. Empty. “Yeah. Sorry. Did you want it?”

“No, it’s fine. You can have it.”

“I sure hope so since I already swallowed it.”

He laughs, whole face lighting up with it, and you feel something turn over behind your ribcage as if someone’s flipped your heart like a pancake. It makes you think that even though you were supposed to be making this trip with a different person, you’re glad it’s him instead.

My love only amounts to this.

The lyrics ring out through the car, and Taehyung leans forward suddenly, turning up the volume on the stereo.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite song!” he joyfully says. “I know you like to sing along.”

You stare at him blankly, taken aback because you don’t think you’ve ever mentioned this to him. When did he notice…?

“C’mon, sing with me. Play a song I know and one step. Hold my hands and put my feet in, two steps.”

His sweet baritone sounds out beside you, and you feel a grin break out across your face. You always forget what a joy it is to hear Taehyung sing.

“The person to know all my secrets is you,” you sing, joining along. “So I’m even more thankful.”

“Sometimes when you get tired, and I see you crying with your head down, I don't know what to do. What can I do?”

You’re both belting it out at the top of your lungs by the time it gets to the chorus, and you think the sun has somehow moved inside the car with how bright and warm you feel.

My love only amounts to this. But thank you for staying by my side, my baby.

Your car charges down the road, trailing laughter and joy in its wake, and your chest feels light for the first time in weeks.

Even if my love only amounts to this. I'll be your umbrella in the rain. I'll protect you on all your days.

Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook meet you in the hotel lobby—a marble behemoth with wrought iron staircases and sofas that definitely cost more than your rent—and you all line up to check in, gawking at the elaborate chandelier that hangs above your heads.

“How did they even afford this place?” Jimin wonders.

Maya sucks her teeth. “At this rate? I think they might have mob ties.”

“Feet pics,” Jungkook says simply.

Once everyone has obtained their key cards, you set off to find your rooms. You’re all on the same floor since a certain section was booked specifically for the wedding, but with you having a room with only a single queen-sized bed, you’re down the hall and away from the others who booked doubles.

While Jimin, Maya, and Jungkook break off to get acclimated in their own respective rooms, Taehyung follows you into yours with a touch of melancholy, your luggage slung over his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re fine here alone?” he asks, setting your bag on the ground. “I can room with you if you’d like. I’m sure Kook wouldn’t mind.”

“There’s only one bed,” you point out, blushing.

Taehyung also goes slightly pink. “Well yeah, but the other week we just…or I can take the couch. Or we can ask Kook to swap rooms?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m alone at the apartment all the time anyway.”

He nods, looking oddly shot down. “Alright. But if you change your mind, just ask.”

“Unlikely,” you tease with a wrinkle of your nose. “You snore.”

He gasps, feigning hurt. “I do not.”

He doesn’t. But you still tilt your head solemnly, pressing your lips together as if preparing to deliver bad news. “You do.”

“Shit,” he sighs before the two of you break down in giggles.

A few hours later, the five of you wind up at the resort’s restaurant for dinner, lamenting the exorbitant prices but enjoying an incredible meal. The night dwindles down as you settle in at the bar, figuring you can have a couple drinks before resting up for tomorrow’s big day. With a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a perfect view of the lake outside and the glow of the sunset spreading out above the trees. It tints the room orange, seeping onto every surface, including Taehyung’s forearms resting atop the bar.

You trace his veins with your eyes, study the way they trail to his hands curled lightly around his low ball glass. Your friends are talking about plans for tomorrow, but you’re not paying much attention; you’re far more interested in trying to figure out when your best friend’s arms started looking like that.

“And don’t worry, Chim. If I have the chance to get lucky, I’ll make sure not to use our room,” Maya says, placing a hand over her heart in pledge. “No locking you out because I’m a good friend.”

But Jungkook has tensed up next to you, and in spite of the cute pout of his lips, the creasing of his forehead suggests that he’s genuinely upset. “Hook-up? You’re going to find a hook-up?”

Maya looks at him incredulously, drink paused halfway to her lips. “Possibly. Aren’t you?”

“I…” His teeth bite into his lip. “It’s a wedding.”

She barks out a devilish laugh. “So? When has that ever stopped you?” A spiteful glare is sent his way that even has you shrinking behind him in secondhand shame. “Since when do you have morals?”

Taehyung’s knee squeezes against yours under the bar—a warning, probably, but your brain momentarily becomes fixated on the weight of it, on how nice it feels to have his warmth pressed against you. It’s not until he taps a finger against your thigh, signaling with his eyes at the sullen man behind you, that you pass on the touch, giving Jungkook’s elbow a gentle nudge in support and encouragement. He takes a quick look at you with sad, vulnerable eyes, and you’re reminded of how flustered he’d been during your conversation a few weeks ago.

“I was actually thinking,” he begins, more serious than you’ve ever seen him, “that maybe we could go together since neither of us have dates.”

Maya snorts, setting her drink down firmly on the countertop. “Why, so you can ditch me halfway through for the first woman that flutters her eyelashes at you? No thanks.”

Jungkook physically recoils like he’s been slapped, the force sending him back so far that he practically winds up in your lap. “You really think I would do that?”

His voice is tiny, hurt dripping from every syllable, and it makes Maya finally look up, face dropping as she seems to realize the wounds she’s inflicted upon him.

Her brows draw together, and she opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by the bartender popping up to ask if anyone needs a refill. By the time he leaves, the moment’s passed, and Jungkook briskly stands up, throwing some money down on the bar.

“I’m done. See you guys tomorrow.” And he strides out towards the hotel lobby.

You hop to your feet, shaking your head at Maya. “That was uncalled for.”

She looks guilty but says nothing, rubbing a finger along the rim of her glass, and you follow Jungkook out, calling his name as he approaches the elevators.

“Jungkook!”

He spins to face you with a frown, thumbs hooked in his pants pockets like he’s trying to look casual, but his eyes betray his discomfort. “What?”

“She didn’t mean that,” you say, slightly breathless from your jog across the lobby. “I know she didn’t.”

“Sure she did. That’s who she is. Always speaks her mind.” He shrugs, shirt rippling over his shoulders. “It’s fine. I don’t care.”

“Don’t you though?” you ask. “You’re not a bad guy, Kook. You deserve simple respect at least.”

“Maybe I don’t.” The elevator dings, and he steps inside, turning back to you with a final sad smile. “Night, Y/N.”

A sense of dread taps into the back of your skull, fear that your original inkling on this relationship was perhaps correct. Though you’ve since warmed up to the idea of Maya and Jungkook as a potential couple, it was this exact tension that you were worried about—their fire and gasoline dynamic harboring implications that could blow up your entire friend group.

Taehyung strolls up next to you as the doors roll shut, sighing as he comes to a stop. “He okay?”

“No, but don’t try telling him that.”

He purses his lips. “I had a quick talk with Maya. Reminded her that just because she’s had bad experiences with guys in the past doesn’t give her the right to take it out on him.”

“Good,” you say. “She probably needed to hear it.”

A nod as he assesses your figure and asks, “Are you coming back to the bar? I already covered your tab.”

“Oh, I’ll pay you back—“

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “You can make it up to me a different time.”

You smirk at him, stepping closer. “How about I roll it into your Christmas present?”

“Deal.”

You let out a soft laugh, and he offers to walk you up, pressing the button to call the elevator back. The two of you chat about nothing in particular as you make your way to the third floor, commenting on the ridiculously patterned carpet in the halls and laughing about the strangely risqué photos that you noticed hanging in the rooms.

When you arrive at your door, you swipe your key card over the sensor, turning the light from red to green and wishing Taehyung goodnight, but he loops his fingers around your wrist to lightly tug you back.

“Y/N.” He curls his bottom lip over his teeth, head dipping towards the ground in a shy smile as he searches for his words. “I’m…really looking forward to tomorrow. It’s going to be fun.”

He’s adorable; he truly is. Seventeen years of affection, and he still finds ways to endear you to him even more, bits of gold from the lamps catching on the browns of his eyes as he stands before you.

“It is,” you say, tongue tied around your own apprehension. He hums and looks like he wants to say more—tangles his fingers in front of him and chews on his lip as he fidgets. But after a moment passes—you still stuck on his eyes—he jerks his chin down in a nod, says goodnight, and leaves you standing at your door in confusion, taking one look back as he swipes his own key card down the hall and disappears into his room.

You enter your own space with your mind whirling, not sure what the hell just happened but also sure that you’re not upset about it. And once you’ve gone through your bedtime routine and settled in for the night, you fall asleep thinking about brown eyes and shy smiles, welcoming the most restful sleep you’ve had in weeks.

You awake to the sound of Maya knocking on your door promptly at 9am with her suitcase in hand, casually making her way to your bed when you let her in and picking up the hotel menu from the side table while you stare at her. "What are you doing?" "We are going to order room service and watch some shitty TV, and then I am going to help you get you ready for your date." "It's not a date," you say on impulse, though you're internally tamping down the involuntary flutter that's tickling your stomach. "If it's anything, it's a guy taking pity on his unexpectedly-single friend." "Pity date then." She says it with a nonchalant wave of her hand and doesn't give you the chance to speak when you open your mouth to protest. "Y/N, please, just give me the chance to make his jaw drop. If there really is nothing there like you say there is, then what's the harm?" The harm, you think to yourself, is the tingling feeling that's been increasing in intensity when you've been around Taehyung recently, warmth flooding your body at just the thought of him. Your brain has been desperately explaining it away, chalking it up to years of familiarity and comfort being stoked by the emotional trauma which (you're quick to remind yourself) you're still working through. No, Y/N, I don’t have feelings for you. It's these thoughts that, in the end, have you acquiescing as Maya lets out a joyful squeal. At the very least, you make your friend happy and get some well-deserved girl bonding time. Really, what's the harm?

The idea has barely finished running through your mind when you’re already beginning to regret it and wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Maya wheels her entire suitcase to the foot of your bed and pulls out no less than seven bags of make-up, a curling iron, hairspray, four different brushes, and a straightener.

“Are you doing the entire wedding party after this?” you ask incredulously. “Why did you bring so much?”

“Needed to be ready for anything,” she says, organizing her tools into neat rows. “When I’m done with you, every straight man and half the women will be falling at your feet.”

Your face heats, and you subconsciously rub at your arm. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Okay, then just one man.” She raises her arms, fingers arranged into a square through which she peers at you like she’s sizing you up for a photograph. “Hmm, where should we start?”

You and Maya make your way to the resort's event hall a little while before the ceremony is scheduled to begin. Seating doesn't seem to have opened yet as guests mill about the entryway, the buzz of conversation filling the space above your heads, and the two of you pause at the top of the stairs to see if you can spot your friends. "I think Kook's got a purple tie," she says, peering around. "And you know what he's wearing why?" you ask, but she ignores you. "Oh, look, there they are." Maya's goal may have been to get Taehyung's jaw to drop, but you're left stunned when you look over to where he's standing with Jimin and Jungkook, the now-familiar tingle rippling through your veins once again. His black suit is perfectly tailored, accentuating his broad shoulders and narrow waist, emerald green tie wrapped around his neck to match the color of your dress as promised. He's slicked his hair back and away from his eyes so you're able to see how they nervously dart between Jimin and Jungkook, clearly not listening to whatever it is they're enthusiastically saying. Actually, once you look more closely, everything about his body language screams nerves for some reason, his hands moving back and forth to play with the hems of his jacket before smoothing the lapels over and over again. Maya waves, grabbing Jimin's attention, and you watch as he grins at the two of you before leaning in to say something to Taehyung, pointing at where you're standing. Maybe, you think, just maybe you appreciate Maya's plan from this morning after Taehyung glances up at you. His incessantly-moving fingers finally still—halfway through re-adjusting his tie—and his perfect Cupid's-bow-lips pop open, eyes wide as he soaks you in in your floor-length gown. Maya’s worked your hair into loose curls cascading over your shoulders and bare back, and while you convinced her to not go wild with the make-up, she strong-armed you into agreeing to a deep red lipstick that’s only accentuated by the green of your dress. A smug cough comes from your right (clearly Maya's pleased with her work) as you descend the stairs and approach the trio of men. Jimin and Jungkook greet you brightly while Taehyung still looks mildly concussed, continuing to stare at you with his mouth half-open. "Alright there, Tae?" you ask, reaching up to adjust and smooth out his tie, messy from where his hands had frozen on it.

The pads of your fingers are hot where they brush against the hard muscle of his chest, and you try not to read too deeply into the pounding of his heart. Taehyung makes a weird noise akin to what you'd imagine a drowning fish would sound like, and Jungkook gives him a sharp slap on the back, which seems to knock him out of whatever trance he'd fallen into. "Incredible!" he blurts, and you almost want to laugh at the reset-button-like effect Jungkook's smack seems to have on him. He clears his throat, composing himself further. "I, um—you, I mean. You look incredible." You thank him, ignoring the second wave of smugness that comes from Maya's direction, just as the event staff open the doors and begin ushering guests into the hall. Taehyung offers you his arm, and you gladly take it as he guides you to sit alongside your friends.

The wedding hall is as grandiose as the rest of the hotel, with columns ornamenting the sides of the room and a massive flower arch constituting the altar. You all talk as you wait for the ceremony to begin, admiring the decor (the bright bouquets of red, purple, and blue flowers pop against the stark white of the venue) and trying to see if you recognize any of the guests.

“Oh, there’s Sunny’s cousin Chan,” Maya says, peering out over the room. “Remember we met him at that party one time?”

“Didn’t the two of you drunkenly make-out?” you ask.

Jimin frowns. “I thought they hooked up.”

“No, Y/N is right.” She fixes her hair, oblivious to the way Jungkook is now staring at the man in question, hackles raised. “Wouldn’t say no to that happening again; he was good with his hands. Tae, are you alright? You’re looking at Y/N like she’s sprouted four more arms.”

You swivel your head around to see Taehyung next to you, entirely flushed red above the shoulders. He licks his lips as he meets your eyes, blinking furiously like he’s trying to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I spaced out.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maya waves a dismissive hand, shuffling her attention to Jimin to ask if he knows about the music choices for the ceremony.

A throat clears on your right. “You do look nice. Really.” Taehyung looks utterly sheepish, his head tilted low as he softly pays you the compliment, and it reminds you of how shy he was last night as well. A butterfly takes flight in your chest, and now you’re the one blushing.

“Thank you. You cleaned up nicely, too,” you reply, and he blinks at you in a way that has you second guessing your words. “Not that you don’t always clean up nicely. And not that you don’t normally look very handsome. Because you do. Look very handsome, I mean. All the time.”

His bashfulness morphs into amusement, lips quirking up in an affectionate smile. “Oh, really?”

Your face heats up even more, mouth opening to respond with you don’t even know what, and you’re grateful when a hush falls over the room, the beginning notes of a wedding march signaling the ceremony’s start.

Hoseok appears first, looking dapper in a full tuxedo and grinning ear-to-ear. He walks down the aisle with long strides like he can’t possibly get to the end fast enough, bouncing on his toes as he settles into his spot.

The officiant is next, followed by Iseul and Seokmin, one of Hoseok’s childhood friends. Hana and Namjoon stroll in arm-in-arm after that, then Yumi and Jiho, and finally, everyone rises to their feet as Sunny appears at the entrance and begins her walk in, gaze finding only her groom.

Just as Sunny reaches the head of the aisle, a teary-eyed Hoseok taking her hands in his, another image, one which had once occupied your mind almost constantly but hadn't plagued you in weeks, takes hold: you and Jace in a similar setting, pledging forever to each other in front of your friends and family.

Maybe you had gotten ahead of yourself—the discovery of the ring box in his desk along with the natural longevity of your relationship sparking your imagination—but in the weeks leading up to your heartbreak, you had allowed your mind to plan—what kind of dress you'd wear, the colors you'd pick out, what you might say in your vows. It seems stupid now, dwelling on a future that's already evaporated into nothingness, but seeing the echoes of your dreams being played out in front of you, it’s like you can feel the sand physically slipping through your fingers.

Right as it starts to become too much, as you feel your chest tighten and heart ache, there's a brush of skin against the side of your hand, and glancing down, you see that Taehyung's reached over to quietly hook his pinky with yours. You turn to face him, but he keeps his eyes directed on the bride and groom, face neutral and unreadable, and you know he's giving you the chance to pull away, no questions asked.

But the gesture has warmth flooding through you, thawing the ice of your previous thoughts, and so you move to slip your hand under his, lacing your fingers and pressing your palms together tightly.

Taehyung looks at you then, a shy smile crinkling his eyes and twisting up the corners of his mouth, and you grin back, the previous ache in your chest replaced with a steady flutter as he begins to skim his thumb back and forth in a gentle caress.

You stay that way for the rest of the ceremony—watching your friends vow eternity to each other, Taehyung's hand tethered with yours.

Classical music drifts from the speakers at the back of the room as you find your seats for the reception. The ballroom is tremendous, with tall, arched ceilings, a gorgeous chandelier, and a wide dance floor that you’re sure will see a ton of action later. With the tables seating eight, you see that you’ve been placed in a grouping of you, Taehyung, Maya, Jimin, Jungkook, and three of Hoseok’s medical school friends, who introduce themselves as Wonwoo, Joshua, and Mingyu.

Thankfully, your group hits it off immediately. Wonwoo is rather reserved, more an observer of those around him than anything, but Taehyung and Jimin quickly strike up a conversation with Joshua about college after the latter mentions having gone to the same school as you, albeit never crossing paths. Maya and Mingyu, meanwhile, immediately fall into their own introductions, talking about how they know Hoseok and Mingyu’s studies to become a doctor.

“If you ever need a headshot or something, let me know,” Maya says, laying a hand on his arm. Across the table, Jungkook's head shoots up. “I do work as a photographer and would be happy to help.”

“Oh, really?” Mingyu makes no move to remove her hand; if anything, he shifts even closer. “What are your rates?”

“For you? Free of charge. Any friend of Hoseok is a friend of mine.” They're in their own little bubble now, Jungkook watching wide-eyed. “Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. With a face like that, you're a photographer's dream. Perfect model.”

Mingyu smirks. “A face like what?”

“Dangerously handsome.”

“HEY, WHAT DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPECIALIZE IN?”

Jungkook practically screams it, and not only do Maya and Mingyu turn to look at him in bewilderment, but so does the rest of the table and a few guests in the neighboring seats.

Joshua clears his throat awkwardly, eying Jungkook like he might be rabid. “I’m trying for pediatrics.”

“Surgery,” Wonwoo says.

Maya turns towards her new companion. “What about you, Mingyu?”

He leans back in his chair. Gives a light tug on his tie. “I have a residency lined up in obstetrics and gynecology.”

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me—”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, cutting him off as he slides his chair back from the table. “Why don’t you help me get a round of drinks?”

“But—“

“C’mon.” He says it gently, like he’s trying to coax a toddler, and rises to his feet, giving you a gentle tap on the shoulder as he goes. “Cosmo?”

“Yes, please,” you say, and he nods, dropping a quick wink your way as Jungkook joins him, grumbling under his breath.

Joshua watches them walk away in the direction of the bar. “Is he always this…”

“Annoying?” Maya scoffs.

“Transparent.” Wonwoo quietly smirks.

A gentle laugh sounds on your left as Jimin hears. “I don’t know that anyone has ever described Jungkook as subtle in his life.”

Maya frowns, Mingyu looking downright perplexed at her side. “I don’t think I quite understand what’s going on,” he begins, but Maya soothes him with another press of her hand to his arm.

“Don’t worry about him. It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Tell me more about your residency.”

The reception passes in a swirl of music and drinks and food—and oh goodness, the food. Plates heaped with calamari, crab legs, and tiny filets wrapped in bacon are placed at the table by wait staff as your group digs in. Even Jungkook is placated, no longer scowling at Maya and Mingyu.

"Ughhh, I am never eating this well again," Jimin groans, stretching back in his chair and giving an exaggerated rub to his belly.

"You'd best get ready to," Taehyung says from your other side. "This isn't even dinner."

"This isn't even dinner?!"

Dinner turns out to be just as delicious and lavish as the appetizers, and it's no surprise that once dancing starts, your friends opt to stay seated for a while longer talking and digesting. As the party climbs to a full swing, Mingyu asks Maya to dance, Jimin and Jungkook start a debate on whether the butt is one body part or two, and Taehyung excuses himself to the restroom.

“It’s one part that’s split!” Jimin loudly exclaims. “The top is connected!”

“Jimin, go home, stand in front of the mirror, and pull your right ass cheek up. See if your left cheek comes up with it, and then get back to me, you absolute clown.”

“Do they do this a lot?” Joshua asks, the two idiots arguing between you.

“At least once a month.” You take a sip of your drink as you look on, bored. “I’m pretty sure this one is a rerun from last Halloween.”

“It’s one,” Wonwoo says, amused.

A flash of green catches your eye, and you look up to see Taehyung standing by the side of the bar, speaking with a woman. She's about your age, you think, and pretty, wearing a low-cut dress that certainly accentuates her chest.

She and Taehyung are talking excitedly, and you can tell he's putting the charm on—eyes bright, signature boxy smile lighting up his face. Nausea simmers in the pit of your stomach, and you force your attention back towards Jimin and Jungkook, trying to focus on whatever nonsense they're debating now.

This isn't a “date-date,” you remind yourself. And Taehyung hasn't had a relationship in a year—not since he was so torn up after Luna. He deserves to meet someone.

You’re spaced out next to your friends, still only halfway listening to them jabber on about butt cheeks, when a slow song starts up over the speakers and, within seconds, a hand is being extended over your shoulder.

You look up to find Taehyung's eyes gazing steadily down at you, a small but confident smile playing on his lips.

"Dance with me?"

And in spite of the unease that had plagued you only moments ago, you don't hesitate to let him wrap up your small hand in his large one and lead you to the dance floor. His palm settles on your lower back to pull you in close, and maybe it’s the proximity or the intoxicating smell of his cologne that weakens your resolve, but you find the words spilling out.

"Did you get her number?"

Taehyung looks at you quizzically, brow furrowing in confusion. "Whose?"

"The woman at the bar."

His face relaxes as he realizes. "Oh, yeah. I did."

"Good." You manage a smile. Why does it feel so hard? "It really is…good you're getting back out there. Are you going to ask her on a date?"

He laughs, mischief in his eyes. "I don't think her fiancé would like that." And now it's your turn to look confused.

"Her fiancé?"

"I met the two of them through Hoseok a couple times so we've chatted. Nice people." He nods his head, and you look over to see the woman now dancing with a man not too far from you. "They just got engaged, and she knows I'm a photographer so she asked if I'd be interested in doing the wedding. I said I'd call her this week to talk about it."

"Oh." You can feel your face flush, but there's no doubting the relief that floods through you. And Taehyung surely notices, grinning down at you in amusement.

"Were you jealous?"

"No!" you say, but perhaps a little too quickly because Taehyung laughs, his fingers applying a gentle pressure to your back to pull you closer.

"I'm here with you," he murmurs matter-of-factly.

You shake your head at him. "It's fine, Tae. If someone catches your eye…like I said, it could be good—"

"I'm here with you," he repeats, more firmly this time. He releases your hand for a moment to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and you have to look away. You spot Hoseok and Sunny swaying together in the middle of the dance floor, pressed closely together and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world. What it must be like to have someone look at you like that, you think, to hold you like you're something precious to be cherished. You had thought Jace made you feel that way, but now, watching your friends gaze at each other so delicately, so in love, you're no longer sure he even came close.

"What are you looking at?" Taehyung's voice rouses you out of your thoughts, and you suddenly notice his hand has drifted a little higher to where the back of your dress dips down low, exposing your bare skin.

Trying to pass off the shiver that involuntarily runs through you as a nod, you gesture at the newly married couple. "They're so good together."

Taehyung follows your line of sight, watching Hoseok lean down to murmur something in Sunny's ear that makes her giggle and press her face into his chest. "They are."

"Can you imagine loving someone like that?" Your voice is a bare whisper as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like a wish you didn't even realize you were making.

Taehyung's fingers splay at your spine, gently tugging you in until your hips are bumping his. Startled, your eyes snap back to him, breath catching in your chest. He's gazing at you intently, but as opposed to the intense fire that you've seen from him at times, there's only a deep warmth to his brown irises that you're not sure you've ever seen before. He looks at you with softness, with both a sense of familiarity and wonder that can only be attributed to your many years of companionship, and you see it all swimming behind his eyes—every day spent together seeking refuge from your families, every stupid childhood fight, every time you comforted each other through the bad days. And before you can deflect, can explain away the question as a rhetorical slip of the tongue, you hear his answer come out on a breath.

"Yes."

There’s a weight to it, the word landing from his lips like a stone into water, and you suddenly forget where you are. The world around you fades away: faces, music, and noise all receding into the background until it’s just him and you, you and him.

Just like it’s always been.

Taehyung's head dips towards you as if pulled by gravity, and your body responds in turn, hand sliding from his shoulder to the hair at the nape of his neck and eyes fluttering shut. Your breaths mingle together, his nose lightly brushing against yours, and you find yourself on the brink of keening forward, on the brink of diving headfirst into a place of no return, when—

"Hey, we're going to step outside for some air. Do you guys wanna—oh."

You spring apart. Jimin is staring at the two of you, eyes so wide you're worried they might fall out of his head. His hand is still half-raised, pointing in the direction of the doors behind him, and you use this to make your escape.

"Yeah sounds good I'll come outside definitely," you babble before speeding towards the exit. Glancing back over your shoulder, you see Jimin say something animatedly to Taehyung, but the latter shakes his head and mumbles something back, his face pink.

The night air is cool on your skin, and you could not be more grateful for it because what the fuck was that?

Were you really about to kiss your best friend? Or was he going to kiss you? Things had certainly been…different between you two recently, but this surely would have been an awful idea. If something went wrong or there was a misunderstanding, you'd likely never be able to come back from it.

He said he doesn't have feelings for you.

…But do you have feelings for him?

Maybe yes, his smile has always set your heart alight unlike anything else and yes, your brain seems to have been lingering recently on how damn handsome he is and yes, you'd do anything for him at the drop of a hat—follow him anywhere—but given your history, of course you would, right? He's your best friend.

And he deserves to be more than a rebound. Because that's what this must be—lingering heartbreak amplified by the emotions of a wedding. You may have even imagined Taehyung leaning towards you, a desperate fantasy of a mind just wanting to be loved.

That's it, you decide. Your brain must have finally snapped into a world of delusion.

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't hear Jungkook approach you, practically jumping out of your skin when he places a gentle hand on your arm.

"Y/N—shit—you okay?" He looks at you with his big doe eyes wide and apologetic.

"Yeah," you say, as your racing heart begins to calm. "You just startled me."

"Sorry, I tried to call you, but I don't think you heard. We're back over there if you want to join us." He nods his head in the direction of a patio area behind him, and you spot Namjoon, Joshua, and Wonwoo sitting around a table next to an elegant fountain, its ornamental lights illuminating the magnificent swan sitting atop it. They’re all laughing and, for some reason, the sight makes your chest tighten.

"Um, maybe in a little bit. I think I might just need a walk right now."

Jungkook studies you, biting ever so slightly into his bottom lip, and you think you see something in the way of understanding behind his eyes (you wonder if it has anything to do with the notable absence of Maya and Mingyu). "Do you want company?"

When you just give him a small smile and shake your head, he nods.

"Okay, well…you know where to find us." He moves to rejoin the others, but then turns back towards you, taking easy steps on his heels. "And just shout if you need a friend."

You meander around the outside of the hotel, following the stone path that paves its way around the perimeter. There's a certain kind of peace out here. Though the summer is nearing its close, you can still hear crickets chirping in the grass and spot the occasional firefly dangling in the air. You focus on the swishing of the cars out on the main road and try to let the sound clear your mind, but as you settle on a short brick wall overlooking the property's enormous lake, you realize it's no use.

Your eyes drift closed as you sink into the grief once again, let it slowly overtake you like quicksand until your lungs are crushed and burning. But more than anything, you’re simply exhausted—perpetually drained by the demons which have once again arrived to feast on your psyche.

At this point, you think most of your frustration lies with yourself. Maybe you’re being overdramatic, maybe you should be over it by now—if only you were stronger, more resilient. Not the miserable pushover you feel you’ve turned out to be. Harsh? Yes. Unfair? Perhaps. This does feel like the breaking point in your life’s long line of abandonments, digging up feelings you haven’t felt since you were a child.

But that being said, it also makes you feel like you should be used to it by now. Should be used to having to bounce back—what else can you expect from the world at this point, really? What a fool you were to even think that this time would be different.

The sound of quiet footsteps has you opening your eyes again, and you’re not sure whether the man in front of you is the first or last person you want to see right now.

Taehyung has his hands in his pockets, watching you with that calculated expression he always has on when he’s trying to gauge your mood. But all you can see in his face on your end is concern, not a hint of awkwardness or trepidation after what just transpired between the two of you in the ballroom.

So it really must have been all in your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Kook said you seemed upset.”

“I’m fine.” You try to push out a smile, but he unsurprisingly sees right through it, closing the gap between you and gesturing at the spot to your right.

“Mind if I sit?”

You’re still not entirely in the mood for company but you can’t bring yourself to say no to him, so you give the tiniest of nods and Taehyung settles on the wall next to you.

The two of you sit in silence for a bit, the buzz of the surrounding trees continuing its serenade. Taehyung doesn’t push, doesn’t say anything, only provides a steady presence. On particularly bad days when you were kids, you’d both wander down to the local playground and sit on the swings for a while. Sometimes you’d talk—either to rant and let it all out or make each other laugh to distract yourselves—but most nights, you’d just sit in the quiet and enjoy the feeling of not being alone.

It feels like that now, with Taehyung’s warmth radiating at your shoulder and the stars hanging above, but tonight, you’re compelled to speak.

“I’m really pathetic, huh?”

Taehyung’s eyes flash as he looks over at you, but he doesn’t interrupt, sensing you want to say more.

“I’m at my friends’ wedding, I’m supposed to be celebrating them and their love for each other, and instead I’m out here having a pity party.” You scoff. “It’s pathetic and selfish.”

“First of all, we are out here having a pity party,” Taehyung begins, and it draws a sudden laugh from you that you think sounds halfway deranged, but he only smiles.

"Secondly, you're not pathetic, and you're not selfish. You just went through a traumatic event, you know? You're allowed to have emotions."

"I know, but I just don't…want to," you sigh. "I just want it all to stop. I'm so tired of feeling weighed down especially on a day like this, but it's like it just doesn't end. The reminders don't end."

"You thought he'd be here," Taehyung says softly, and though his head nods slightly in understanding, his voice is tinged with sadness. "You miss him."

"I—that's not exactly it, no," you quickly say, not wanting him to think that you somehow regret being here with him. "Given what he did…like you’ve said, it's not forgivable, so it's not like I wish he was here. I mean, sure, are there some days where I reflexively think about him and stuff? Of course—we were together for four years—but I…still would prefer to never see him again."

Taehyung lets out a short sigh that you interpret as approval, but he stays quiet, giving you time to work out your thoughts.

"I think it's more the loss of security than anything. Seeing Hoseok and Sunny up at the alter…I couldn't help thinking that I was so, so close to that—to having that one person that I could commit to walking through life with. A partner, a friend, just someone to have day-in and day-out. Forever." You choke up, a fresh wave of tears lodging in your throat that you try to keep down. Taehyung is stiff next to you, staring down at his hands in his lap.

"And I want that, Tae. I want that so bad. But it's…so scary to start from scratch after feeling that close. I feel like I'm losing my mind. I'm just constantly overwhelmed and feel like I can't outrun it, and then I feel guilty on days like this because I shouldn't be letting it get to me, and—"

"Hey, hey, Y/N, shhhh." Taehyung finally jumps in as you begin to spiral, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You don't have to worry or feel guilty because you are going to have all of that. Okay? You will."

"You can't know that."

"I do." He slips his pinky around yours briefly before his hand comes up to cup your jaw, guiding your eyes to his. "I promise you. I don't know how far out it'll be, but one day we'll all be together again at a place like this, and it'll be your turn." He gets a faraway look in his eye, seemingly perceiving something that you're struggling to even grab a glimpse of right now. "It'll be everything you've ever dreamed of—intimate and outdoors, right? I know you always said growing up that you were going to get married at the Spring Day Gardens. If you still want it, it'll be yours."

You let his words draw you in, painting you a picture so beautiful you're afraid to even let your heart believe in it. But his baritone voice presses on.

"And it'll be perfect. Not a cloud in the sky—nothing but sunshine. And we'll all be there, and you'll have your favorite lily bouquet and your perfect dress…"

Something stops him, and he blinks at you, dropping his palm from your face and glancing away at the lights from the party before resuming his tale.

"And the guy…" He licks his lips, and you feel the hand that's still holding yours tighten ever so slightly. "He's going to love you so much. Properly love you. He's going to see you come down that aisle and weep because he's just going to know that he's the luckiest guy in the universe. And if he doesn't cry right away, I'll kick him in the shins up there until he does because in spite of what Jimin and Jungkook think, we all know that I'm actually your best man."

You let out a watery giggle, the tears flowing freely now, and Taehyung reaches up to swipe a few off your cheeks, letting out a chuckle of his own.

"I want to believe you," you say quietly. "And hopefully one day I will. I just…I need more time."

"Whatever you need, you know I'm here for you," he murmurs, and you nod.

You fall back into silence for a few moments, Taehyung dutifully continuing to hold your hand while you lightly sniffle and wipe at your cheeks.

"I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to the party like this—I think you ruined my make-up," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe, but you're the prettiest raccoon I've ever seen."

You laugh in earnest now, your shoulders shaking with it, and Taehyung smiles at you before suddenly rising to his feet.

"Wait here," he says, and then he's jogging back up towards the venue.

The silence envelops you again as you continue to mull over Taehyung's vision. Your battered heart is hesitant to dream, all of your imaginings coming in with fuzzy edges and blurry details that you just can't seem to place. But you're sure Taehyung was definitely right about one thing—you can't imagine a situation where you get married without him standing by your side.

It's a handful of minutes later when the man himself finally reappears with a hand behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. When you raise your eyebrows at him in question, he comes to a halt in front of you and presents a full fifth of your favorite whiskey.

"What do you say we get out of here?"

The dim hotel lights cast a soft glow about the room as you and Taehyung pass the bottle back and forth, the mood significantly more casual than the extravagant party you just ditched. The decor may be fancy—Hoseok and Sunny certainly didn’t skimp when it came to location—but the two of you are perfectly rumpled, stretched out on the expensive sheets: you having removed your make-up and changed into your pajamas and Taehyung propped up against the headboard with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his jacket and tie tossed over the couch.

You’ve started up a game of Truth or Drink, a somewhat milder version of Truth or Dare, where you get to take turns asking each other questions, and the respondent has the chance to either answer the question or take a mouthful of whiskey. Normally, between you and Taehyung, such a game would be low stakes, with your shared years and few secrets between you making it hard to ask challenging questions. But something about tonight and the need for a distraction seems to have made both of you competitive, going for questions that you know the other wouldn’t want to answer.

“What was the last thing you cried about?”

“One thing you don’t like about me?”

“Favorite position?”

“Did you really lose your virginity in a tree house?”

“What’s your greatest fear?”

"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?"

"Oh God, one of those cupcakes from Sweet Night Bakery," you groan. It was a place you had passed every day on the way to school, the wafting scents of cookies and cakes playing pied piper to your youthful noses. You had always dreamed of one day being able to afford the expensive pastries but had fled your hometown before having the adult money to do so.

"Seriously? Anything in the world and you want a cupcake?" Taehyung laughs, pink tongue poking out from behind his teeth.

"It's not just anything, it's one of my life's dreams," you counter, playfully shaking a fist at him for emphasis, but Taehyung seems unconvinced. "Fine then, if you have such a good answer. Same question."

He tilts his head at you, a mild haze in his eyes that tells you that while he's not drunk-drunk, he's definitely tipsy. A beat passes and he takes a drink.

"Ooh, mysterious," you slur. "But I win."

"Alright, alright." He grins at you. "I concede to your sugary dreams."

You mirror his smile, observe the way his fingers curl in his lap as you try to think of your next question. He’s always had nice hands—so delicate and careful with everything he touches. It’s odd, you think, how such gentleness could emerge from a home and upbringing that was anything but. How someone as bright as Taehyung could come from such darkness.

“Do you want kids one day?”

The question takes him by surprise when you ask it, and he physically startles, turning the bottle in his hands slowly. “I don’t know. Why?” He looks at you then, and you feel like you can see a riddle being worked out in his head. “Where did that question come from?”

“I don’t know,” you echo. “You spent so much time earlier imagining a future for me. I realized that we’ve never really talked about what you want for yourself outside of your career.”

Growing up, you’d discussed your dreams for the future, of course. But while you have always skewed towards the romantic, envisioning rings and weddings and vows, Taehyung’s always been much more practical and career-oriented—his plans always involved degrees and promotions and retirement funds.

A beat passes as he continues to fidget with the whiskey bottle before he again says, “I’m really not sure.”

“Well think about it now,” you challenge. “Or drink up.”

He chuckles to himself, some private joke in his head. “It would terrify me, I think. But I’d love them with everything I’ve got. Want to give them everything I didn’t have and be better than my parents were.”

You hum in agreement; you’ve had the same thoughts on occasion. Some who grew up in your situation may have been turned off the idea of children—and the idea does scare you in certain respects—but you’ve always been stubborn. “It’d be a chance to prove that it doesn’t have to be that hard. That you didn’t deserve what you went through.”

Fingers graze against yours in a subtle show of kinship. As always, you understand each other. “Exactly.”

And he may be struggling to imagine it, but you can see it so clearly: a small boy with big, brown eyes and a boxy smile riding on Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of them playing in the sand at the beach house or walking down the street together—the boy’s tiny hand tucked safely in his father’s.

The image chokes you up, fills you with so much warmth you think you might burst.

“You’d be an amazing father, Tae.”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind about it—that this incredible, thoughtful, selfless man would also be a wonderful dad. He doesn’t look so sure, but a flicker of recognition passes through him.

“You’ve said that to me once before,” he murmurs.

“I did?”

A nod. “One time when you were drunk junior year.”

You don’t remember it, the memory lost to the alcohol. “I guess drunk me has flashes of brilliance.”

“Maybe we’ll see someday.”

“I hope we will.”

Suddenly nervous, he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing in the long column of his neck. “But it’d have to be with the right person.”

“Has there ever been anyone who you thought was close?”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You’re asking a disproportionate amount of questions.”

Reaching over, you pull the bottle from his hands, drink down a mouthful of burning liquor, and set it right back in his lap. “Answer.”

Wide eyes appraise you through the dim light; he looks almost impressed. “No.”

“No, there’s never been someone you could see a future with, or no, you won’t answer?”

“The first one,” he says. “I’ve never been with someone I could imagine having kids with.”

You frown, the blunt despondence in his tone cutting. “Not even Luna?”

A look is thrown your way—pursed lips and creased brow telling you that’s a stupid question.

“What happened with her?”

He scoffs, lips immediately wrapping around the bottle as he takes a gulp.

“So something did happen.”

“We broke up,” he states. “That’s what happened.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never said why.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. As if you’ve just asked him what he wants for dinner and not why the longest relationship of his life ended. “We weren’t compatible.”

You can’t help but sigh, a small part of you hurt that he still refuses to talk about it, that he’s closed this part of himself off to you. “You don’t trust me?”

“Y/N, no.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely remorseful to have given you that impression. “That’s not it. It’s just…impossibly complicated—“

“Was it me?” You’re suddenly reminded of a conversation with Maya from weeks ago, when she’d suggested that you were the reason all of Taehyung’s relationships had failed.

His lips part, tongue pushing into his cheek like he’s trying to hold words back.

“It was, wasn’t it?” you push, and his teeth dig into his tongue now, chewing. “You can tell me. I can handle i—“

“You were part of it, yes.”

In spite of what you’ve just said, the words land like a blow. You’ve spent years watching him go through breakup after breakup, and now you find out that you were a source of that anguish all along—helped fuel that heartbreak in his life.

It pains you to think you’ve been holding him back.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” you whisper.

“Because there was nothing to tell. It didn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tae. If I’m getting in the way of your relationships…I want you to be happy.”

“You make me happy.”

That silences you, the sincerity in his voice leaving you blinking at him, and he continues.

“She didn’t like how close we are—most of them haven’t. But it doesn’t matter because at the end of the day, I’ll always choose you. And that’s the end of it. Nothing left to tell.”

You feel like you should protest this, insist on him putting himself and his future first.

But given similar circumstances, wouldn’t you do the same for him?

“Did Jace ever give you shit about us?” he asks, reading your mind.

He had, ranting about Taehyung that night in some fucked up attempt to explain away why you’d found him in bed with another woman. Before then, you hadn’t noticed the signs: hadn’t picked up on his reluctance to spend time with your friends, hadn’t read into the way he stuck close to your side on the rare occasions he did, a possessive arm always tight around your waist.

It all made sense afterwards, and you hate that the vulnerability and anguish of the moment made you question your own actions. You never would’ve shut Taehyung out—never in a million years—but it initially made you think that maybe if you’d been more attentive towards Jace, had been more sensitive to his feelings, that maybe you wouldn’t have wound up in the situation you did.

You recognize now that he didn’t deserve it in the end, obviously, but heartbreak is a funny thing.

Not wanting to have to admit to any of that out loud, you whisk the bottle from Taehyung’s hands again and drink. He watches the movement of your throat with heavy, knowing eyes, immediately taking the whiskey back for his own sip once you’ve finished.

“I must admit,” he says, the alcohol clearly loosening his tongue as he sags against the headboard. “I’m a little relieved about things ending for you and Jace. Aside from him being a certified douchebag, I mean.”

You frown, not sure where he’s going with this, and the look on your face must come across as offense because he’s quick to clarify.

“Not that I liked seeing you hurt.” He shakes his head, and you can see some anger at the situation still lingering under the surface. “No, never. But I just…now I get to keep you longer at least.”

“Keep me?”

“Yeah, this…” He wags a finger between you. “You know this has to end one day, right?”

The whiskey should be warming, but your veins fill with ice at his words. Losing Jace was one thing. Losing Taehyung would be a different matter entirely.

“You’re always going to have me,” you say, reaching for his pinky.

But he pulls his hand away.

“Not like this.” He smiles with what you assume to be intended comfort, but his entire demeanor is tainted with sadness. “One day, when you have the dream guy and the family and the white picket fence, there won’t be room for me. Not like this.”

It feels like earlier—him trying to paint you a picture of a possible future for you—but unlike earlier, you can’t picture this future. You don’t want it. Not if he’s not there.

“Tae—“

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He gives another sad smile, takes another drink. “No husband is going to want a third wheel hanging around. I understand. I want you to be happy, too.”

But you wouldn’t be happy without him, and in many ways, you’ve always known that to be true. But that knowledge hits you now with such force, such raw truth, that it renders you speechless and leaves you staring at him, drunken eyes laser-focused as if discovering the very center of the universe.

You want to challenge him on his statement, make him see that he’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, has your brain dropping half-formed sentences through your mind like Scrabble pieces that you can’t quite wrangle into a coherent thought.

Taehyung takes your silence for agreement and, seeming to suddenly realize that some kind of line has just been crossed, takes the quiet opportunity to flip the conversation back to your game.

“The shoes you gave me for my seventeenth birthday,” he begins, the words tipping out slow and oddly calculated for someone who’s had as much to drink as he has. “Where did the money come from?”

You know where he’s going with this. And it’s perhaps the only secret you’ve kept from him in the entirety of your friendship. “Christmas money, I told you.”

“No, really.”

“Why don’t you believe me?”

“I never saw that house decorated for Christmas even once.”

“Could’ve been from an aunt or uncle.”

“But it wasn’t, was it?”

It wasn’t. You snuck the money out of your father’s desk one day knowing that he wouldn’t have even noticed it was missing. Absent-minded in everything aside from work, your father had misplaced things constantly. You drink. And even though it’s supposed to be an avoidance of the question, it gives him his answer.

“I knew it.”

“They weren’t going to miss it, and you needed it more.”

“You could’ve gotten in so much trouble.”

“I knew I wouldn’t. I didn’t. And it was worth the risk regardless.”

Looking back, you wish you’d had more of a fear of getting caught—wish your parents would’ve scolded you, screamed at you, anything. It would’ve been better than the indifference you’d been met with day in and day out. As if you were invisible.

Taehyung’s head swings from side-to-side. “You shouldn’t have. I would’ve been okay.”

“And you shouldn’t have punched Jace in that club, but you did anyway, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“It’s not. You’re not the only one who gets to put your ass on the line for the people you care about. You were worth the risk.”

He blinks, regarding you as if you’ve presented him with some outlandish concept. Like you’ve asked him to explain rocket science or open-heart surgery. “Then you should’ve told me then.”

“You would’ve given them back.”

“Maybe, but then at least we would’ve been in it together instead of you lying to me.”

“And you’ve never lied to me?”

He hesitates, tongue tracing his bottom lip. “No.”

“Okay, then. Truth or drink: what’s the worst lie you’ve ever told?”

You know there must be one, can read it in the way his shoulder is suddenly pressed against yours as he tilts into you. Fingertips skim the bare skin of your knee, tentative in their movements, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath as the distance between you closes to mere centimeters, his gaze roaming your face and snagging on your mouth.

And you feel it—the pull that you’ve always felt towards him, the gravitational force that’s kept you in the same orbit since you were children. Two souls that intertwined the moment they sensed the other’s presence with a flash of awareness and said, You, you, you.

Thinking back on the entirety of your life, you don’t know how you possibly could have made it through without him: your best friend, your partner, your sanctuary. In such a volatile world—a turbulent youth marred by uncertainty and sorrow—he took your hand and held you steady, made sure you didn’t go through it alone.

In hindsight, you can’t truly regret it. Yes, there will always be a part of you that will resent your parents, wish that they would have loved you enough to spare you the hurt and stress they put you through. But just like the night when he brought you back to your apartment—held you close as you fell asleep in his embrace—your memories with him far outweigh the trauma you endured. When you think of your time spent growing up, he is by far the brightest star, outshining any darkness that may have lingered at the corners. It’s not the empty house or your parents’ stony faces that you think of first, but him: blanket forts and starry nights and walks in the park and blurry photographs and sometimes tears, sure, but only with him there to hold you.

Looking at this man in front of you, in every familiar line of his face and body, you know, without a crumb of doubt, that you’d do it all again. Screw Jace and Luna and your parents and anyone else who’s expressed disdain at your closeness with him. He’s written into every line of your history, every memory that’s worth something. And he may fight you on it, but he’s worth every risk you’ve ever taken—you would’ve stolen a thousand pairs of shoes for him. You’d move mountains and drain the oceans if he needed you to. You’d do anything.

You couldn’t live without him. You don’t want to live without him.

A moment of clarity, a wave of revelation as you lock eyes and are met with your favorite color. And at long last, you find the words.

I love you.

Your heart throws itself off a cliff…

And you lean in to press your lips to his.

NEXT

a/n: happy holidays to all who celebrate 😊

[starsstuddedsky]

Tangled in Love

vernon x reader

summary: there's nothing in the world that vernon loves more than cats. at least, that's what you think

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst, non-idol!au, uni au, f2L, idiots to lovers, fake dating if you squint, technically university au

warnings: none!

wc: 3.8k

a/n: started this a WHILE ago and finished it like a month ago but i wanted to let it sit lol,,, may or may not have been the other option for the poll i put out and then i may or may not have forgotten to post.... anyways i am working for literally the whole summer until school starts again so i can't promise i'll be writing a whole bunch </3 so basically: enjoy bc idk when anything else will come lol (not going on official hiatus though!! just like... limbo) pls pls feel free to drop in anytime and chat!! also requests are open but again,, i'll write when i write lol

tldr: adulting sucks, i love you all, none of this has to do with the actual story lol

Vernon’s car sits in your driveway. The sight of his little red sedan evokes a strong sense of familiarity, almost as if it’s yours. It’s survived high school and his first three years of college, up till now, though the engine sometimes shakes the car a little too much and the air conditioning chooses to work less often than you would prefer. Still, the one time Vernon mentioned getting a new car, you nearly cried, so you don’t let yourself complain too much. 

He waits for you, keys in hand, as you tug on your shoes and sprint out the door with a shout of goodbye to your parents. Your shoes nearly slip off because you didn’t put them on all the way and they’re still untied when you make it to the front seat, slamming the door shut behind you and pulling on your seatbelt. 

“You didn’t have to rush,” Vernon says, barely sparing a glance at you. You do a supreme job pretending it doesn’t bother you. 

“Yeah, but my dad is watching hockey,” you say. Though it’s been years since Vernon has been to your house for a “play date,” you know the memory of your father yelling at the television as if the players can hear him isn’t one that Vernon (or anyone for that matter) can forget easily. 

“You know if you move out, you don’t have to hear them,” he says, finally glancing at you before turning his head to watch the road as he backs down the driveway. 

“If I move out, I also have to pay my bills on my own,” you say. 

“You have three job offers and you haven’t even graduated yet,” Vernon says. “Of all our friends, you are the most financially stable, so don’t you dare try that argument on me.” This debate has been going on ever since Vernon announced he was moving out; two years in the dorms on campus proved more than enough for him. 

You don’t understand why he’s so insistent about you moving out. Sure you complain about your parents occasionally but not enough to really matter, and he knows how grateful you are that they’ve let you stay in your childhood room and rarely let you pay for anything. 

So why? You set your eyes on him, with his annoyingly perfect features that you’ve known most of your life. He studies the road, indifferent to your glare and undistracted. 

That’s the Vernon you know: focused on the moment, and never noticing you. You know how pitiful you sound, pining for someone for so long who has never once spared you a second look. Still, before everything else, he’s your friend, your best friend. You won’t ruin that just because you caught feelings. 

“Why are we going an hour away again?” You ask, resting your back against the cushioned seats and turning your head to the window to watch the scenery pass by. It’s easier to avoid thinking about those feelings when you aren’t staring at him. 

“Because the people running the rescue needed a volunteer to pick up the kittens.” 

“And why am I here?” 

“So I don’t get kidnapped or murdered,” Vernon says nonchalantly. 

“How am I going to prevent you from getting kidnapped or murdered?” 

“Strength in numbers?” He takes his eyes off the road for half a second to flash a smile at you. 

You rolled your eyes, plugging your phone into the aux. “You should have asked Jihoon. Between his gym obsession and unbridled rage, the nonexistent potential kidnappers-murderers would never stand a chance.” 

“And he has good taste in music. Bump,” he says, bracing his arm in front of you as he hit a particularly large pothole. He drops his arm as soon as the car stops shaking and you ignore the urge to catch his hand in yours. 

“He does not, and you better not be implying I have bad taste!” You dig through your playlists, trying to find the Vernon-approved one. 

“I was implying but now I’ll outright say it.” 

“His playlist is just Bruno Mars and Harry Styles and one random Ariana Grande song.” You hold up the shared playlist for good measure. Vernon ignores you, refusing to take his eyes off the road. 

“Okay, not good taste, but better than yours.” 

“What is wrong with my taste in music?” 

“No comment.” 

“How have we been friends this long?” You ask. You can’t quite say it with a straight face; the idea of not having Vernon in your life is an absurdity you can’t imagine. 

“By the way, you need to give directions,” Vernon says. “I sent you the address last week.” 

You shake your head but dig through the messages to find the address, putting Jihoon’s playlist on to prove your point. Vernon pretends not to care, singing along to “Leave the Door Open,” as if he didn’t make fun of Jihoon a week ago because he played the song on repeat during his four hour shift at the cafe. 

When you’re being honest with yourself, you know you want more than riding in Vernon’s front seat and making pointless jokes. More than once, you’ve imagined what it’s like to go home with him and stay there, to wake up in his bed because you share it with him, instead of the times you drank too much and he slept on the couch (because of course Vernon is the type of person to give up his bed for his friend). Moments like that make it harder to remember that he doesn’t feel the same way. 

You were doing a great job of paying attention until the second half hour, when you got stuck in standstill traffic. In your mind, only a few minutes pass, but suddenly Vernon shakes your shoulder and your heart shoots bolts of adrenaline into your veins to wake you up. 

“We’re here,” he says softly. He holds your phone with the directions still open. The engine shakes the car; he must have literally just stopped. It takes a couple moments to remember that he drove you into the middle of nowhere to pick up some kittens to foster them (another bullet point in the ever growing list of why you love Vernon: he does absolutely insane things for what he loves. What would it be like to be the person he loves?). He stares at you for a moment and for some godforsaken reason, you think he’s going to kiss you. 

He points to the corner of your lips. “You drooled.” He laughs at your groan, turning in his seat and cutting the engine, tossing your phone into your lap. 

The door creaks when you pull on the handle but it swings open. You are extra careful when you swing it shut, being as gentle as possible. Vernon raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment on it. You stretch until your back finally pops, jogging to catch up with Vernon who didn’t wait for you, striding up the smooth driveway. 

Warm pastel yellow greets you, a cute door that matches the array of flowers on the front porch perfectly. Vernon sneezes and presses the doorbell, stepping back to wait, shoulder pressing against yours. Even though his jean jacket and your cotton t-shirt separate you from really touching him, you feel a different sort of warm, a tingly feeling that spreads from your insides and makes you feel giddy. 

After a couple minutes, the door opens, revealing a smiling woman and a child that can’t be more than five clinging to her leg. “You must be the fosters! Sorry, it’s a little hectic today, but come on in!” She ushers you in, picking up the child. 

Some psychopath. You glance at Vernon but he turns his back on you, following the woman down the hall to a closed door. Whatever, it’s not like he needs to see you to know the jokes you make. 

“We’ve been keeping them away from the rest of the house since it gets so chaotic,” she says. “I’d love to keep them but we’ve got two toddlers and a hyperactive dog.” She sounds genuinely regretful, which you understand as soon as you step over the baby gate and into the room. It looks like it was a spare bedroom (you can’t help but think it’s for the children when they get too big to share a room), but the bed has been stripped and there isn’t any other furniture. In the middle of the room, in a nest of blankets, a grown cat sits and licks tiny balls of fur that mewl softly in protest. The black cat pauses in her grooming, studying you and Vernon while the woman and her child watch from the door. 

“Do you want to tell the lovely couple what we named them?” She asks the child. 

You freeze. Did she just call you a couple? “We’re not–” Vernon stops you with a hand on your arm, sitting cross legged on the ground and facing the woman and her child. 

“The momma is Pinky,” the child mumbles, barely audible. “‘Cause she has really pink feet.” 

You smile at her, though you’re still reeling from Vernon’s hand, which slips from your arm to interlace his fingers with yours. “Did you name her?” 

The child grins. “Yeah! But my brother named the babies.” She pouts. 

“I think Pinky is a great name,” you say. Vernon grunts in agreement. Pinky stands and wanders slowly toward Vernon’s hand (the one not holding yours), which he holds outstretched while looking away. Looking at you. You get to see the exact moment Pinky brushes her head against his fingers, watch the corners of his mouth creep up in satisfaction, watch his eyes slip away from yours as he strokes her head. She lets off a low rumble as she purrs, brushing her whole body against his foot before leaving him to study you. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as a cat-person or a dog-person (you love them all the same), but a life-time as Vernon’s best friend (and an abundance of cat cafes) have trained you in how to get cat’s to befriend you. You let Pinky move however she wants, hyper aware of Vernon’s hand squeezing yours once before letting go. 

He shifts to look at the kittens, earning a wary glance from Pinky. She watches him for a moment before turning back to you, brushing against your hand and eventually turning her back on you, purring like the engine of Vernon’s car the entire time. 

“What’s this one called?” Vernon asks, pointing to the orange colored kitten. 

“That’s Muffin, Momma named her,” the child explains. She stands at the baby gate alone, her mother off somewhere getting all of their supplies so that you and Vernon can leave with them. Her little fingers curl around the metal. “The black one is Fried and the white one is Egg. That’s what my brother named them.” 

Vernon nods, smiling over the tiny kittens. Pinky finally decides she doesn’t want him quite so close, leaving your side to place herself between him and the kittens. He laughs, sliding back to sit next to you. 

“There’s no way you don’t end up adopting at least one of them,” you whisper. 

“I have self-control.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Vernon turns to look at you except he’s much too close, nose just barely brushing against yours. It takes all of your willpower not to glance at his lips, infinitely harder when you realize you can feel his breath on your lips. Would he kiss you back? You push that fantasy away immediately: it’s Vernon. He’d push you away and call you weird, or do that judgy-eyebrow-wiggle-thing that he reserves only for special occasions (most recently used when Soonyoung was talking about a hookup gone wrong). You’ve always been the one he looks at when someone does something weird; what would he do if it was you being weird? Your stomach turns, the butterflies eating each other alive. You can’t do that to him, no matter how perfect his lips are. 

You jump at the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn back to the door to see the woman holding a cat carrier doing her best not to smile. 

“Not trying to rush you two, but the sooner they settle into a nice loving home, the better,” she says, winking at ‘loving.’ You really should correct her. Actually, Vernon should correct her. He always does, the very few times that you have been mistaken as a couple. He never hesitates, so why isn’t he doing it now? Does he really not realize what she’s implying? 

He stands up, turning to face you and extending his hands to pull you up. You roll your eyes but take them anyway, ignoring the way your heart sinks when he lets go this time. He takes the carrier and gently picks up the kittens, blankets and all, and tucks them inside. Pinky follows immediately after, as if she couldn’t bear to be away from her children for more than a second. 

“I have a box ready by the door with their food, and toys, and other supplies, and I know you said you have a litter box and you’re ready, but I just wanted to make sure that they settle in nice, and I added a blanket in case they’re homesick, and–” She pauses, peering at the dark holes of the carrier as if she can see the little kittens inside. She takes a deep breath, picking up her child again, stepping to the side so that you and Vernon can leave the room. “I know you two will take good care of them, I do, I just– I’m going to miss them.” 

“Me too,” her child says, clinging to her mother’s neck. 

The woman smiles. “But we said our goodbyes already, and they’re going to be so happy with these two, right?” 

“Of course,” you say when Vernon doesn’t answer. “He’s been obsessed with cats since he was smaller than you!” You wink at the child, who giggles. 

You pick up the box at the door, grunting at the heaviness. 

“We can switch,” Vernon says softly but you shake your head. 

“It’s just to the car, it’s fine.” Vernon looks like he’s going to argue more, but finally he steps onto the front porch, moving as gently as possible, trying to disturb the precious cargo as little as possible. 

“Thank you so much again,” the woman says, setting her child down. “We really do wish we could keep them, but it makes me happy knowing that someone capable will be taking care of them, especially an adorable couple like the two of you. Do keep me updated on their adoptions.” 

You force a smile and choke out a “thank you,” following Vernon mindlessly down the driveway after she closes the door.

Adorable couple, were her exact words and Vernon said nothing. Why? The word hangs on your tongue, threatening to spill out if you so much as open your mouth. You watch as Vernon sets the carrier in the backseat, then takes the box out of your arms and places it on the floor. You force yourself to move to the passenger side when he raises his eyebrows at you, but once you’re sitting down and the seatbelt is across your chest, you’re frozen again. 

Vernon takes your phone when you don’t move, putting in your passcode (the sum of his birthday and yours). He pulls up his own playlist, a collection of hyperpop and indie artists that you normally enjoy listening to. Today it takes all your concentration not to burst. 

You almost make it the whole drive, all the way to his block, the apartment building he’s spent the last year and a half in that’s become far too familiar to you. How much time have you wasted away on the floor of his living room, drinking, doing classwork, listening to him talk about the future, rambling to him about the midnight thoughts that threaten your heart? He knows everything about you, except what you need him to know the most. 

When the question begins to burn in your heart, you can’t hold it anymore. Vernon pulls into his parking spot and it falls from your lips before you realize it. “Why?” 

He has the audacity to feign ignorance, blinking at you before finally asking, “Why what?” 

“Why did you let her think we are a couple?” 

One of the kittens mewls in the silence, a soft cry for help, sounding pitifully like your own heart. 

Vernon stares ahead of him at the concrete wall, the fading red number 19 that designates this spot as his. Just say something, your heart begs him. Stop giving me hope where there is none. His shoulders rise in the tiniest shrug. “I guess I was just curious.” 

“Of what?” 

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He glances at you, just once. “What it would be like.” He sighs. “This really isn’t the time for this conversation.” 

Your grip on the door handle is so tight your knuckles are white. So desperately, you want to believe he’s trying to say what you think he’s saying but you refuse to give yourself hope unless it’s real. “What conversation?” 

“Okay, for the record, I did think this through,” he says, “a lot. Like, for months. This isn’t coming out of nowhere, I really did try to figure out if it’s just a passing thing because the last thing I want is for things between us to be weird because you’re my best friend and I tried to imagine my life without you and that was worse than anything, so I decided I wouldn’t ruin anything except I can’t stop thinking about–”

“Vernon.” 

He pauses, turning to face you again and this time he doesn’t look away. You’ve never felt self-conscious under his gaze, not when he’s seen every awkward stage of your life and stuck with you anyways. His eyes have always been familiar to you, an oasis of comfort that you always find yourself drifting toward. But the longer he stares at you, the more you want to run away, hide from the heartbreak you see in his eyes. 

“I think I like you,” he says. “No. I do. Like, as in more than a friend. God, none of these words are working.” 

You stare at him. He’s saying everything you want him to say. He’s saying he likes you. Why can’t you move? 

Vernon runs a hand through his hair, and sighs. “Like I said, I don’t want to ruin things between us, you're still my best friend first. But I’m also sure about how I feel and I don’t want to keep it from you any longer. I can’t stay in this limbo of holding onto something that doesn’t exist, so, I’m really sorry.” 

“Sorry?” You repeat, frowning. “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because… I like you. And that ruins… this.” He gestures between you and him and that’s when you finally realize that he doesn’t know. 

“You dumbass,” you say, “I like you, too.” 

Vernon frowns, mouth hanging open a little, and you have to wonder if you looked this goofy when he was talking. Your heart swells when you realize you’re the reason for it. “You do?” 

“Yes,” you say, grabbing his hand. Your cheeks ache a little, and you realize that you’re smiling wider than you ever have before. You’ve never been this happy, not when you graduated high school, not when you and Vernon found out you got into the same college, not when you got a perfect score on that notoriously impossible chemistry final. “Vernon, I am an idiot that always thought you didn’t feel the way I did so I did everything I could to hide it. But I like you, I really, really do, and I’m sorry I never let it show.” There’s another word for how you feel, but you aren’t quite brave enough to use it yet, even if it’s what you really mean to say.��

Vernon leans closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “We really are dumb, huh?” 

“I can already hear Jihoon’s gloating.”

“He’s been nagging you too?” Vernon groans softly but the smile never leaves his lips. “He’s going to be insufferable.” 

You’ve grown used to silences with Vernon. Sometimes they are painful, like when he tells a joke and only you laugh. Usually they’re peaceful, comfortable silences that can only exist between two people that have nothing left to say but stay together anyways. But this silence is heavy, a weight on your shoulders pushing you to do something, move closer. You’ve known him your whole life but this is foreign territory. 

His breath kisses your lips again and this time you have the bravery to lean forward, just a little. His lips are soft, bottom lip chapped a little more than the top but it is warm and it feels like a first and thousandth at the same time, like unlocking the door to a house you know you’ll spend the rest of your life in. Your mind floats farther and farther away, in some place of impossible happiness that can’t quite believe that this is real. 

A soft cry from somewhere to your left brings you back to earth. You pull away at the same time he does, glancing at the backseat. Right. The kittens. You glance at Vernon, whose mouth is still a little open, eyes wide and flustered. It makes you want to kiss him all over again but you settle for laughing. 

“I guess we should go inside,” he says, leaning away from you though he doesn’t turn his back yet. 

“We should get them settled,” you say, glancing at the carrier again. 

Vernon nods, opening his door and grabbing the heavy box, pausing by the entrance to the building to wait for you to grab the carrier. Silence falls again as you ride the elevator up but you’re more than familiar with it. 

It doesn’t take long to settle Pinky and the kittens, not when Vernon already had a room set up for them. He figures there’s been enough stress for the day and they should get some peace and space to relax, so you stretch out on the couch, taking your usual corner. Vernon sits next to you, the inch of space separating you feeling like a mile. 

Vernon glances at you, chewing on his lip before asking, “You’ll stay?” 

“Always.” 

The grin that splits his face has you swooning all over again, so when he throws an arm over your shoulder, leaning into your side, your brain fully stops functioning. You have to will thoughts into existence, which is silly because it’s Vernon and he’s done this a million times. But when you tuck your head onto his shoulder and he kisses the top of this head, you know everything is different. And exactly how you want it. 

“You’re definitely going to adopt Fried,” you say. 

His laughter bounces you. “No way.” 

“It’s Fried or Muffin. You can’t handle their cuteness, I saw you baby talking at them.” 

“I'll stay strong.” 

“What if I want a kitten?” 

Vernon doesn’t hesitate. “Egg is pretty cute.” 

“Sucker.” 

“Only for you.” 

thank you for reading <3

[inkyarcturus]

(Honestly this entire thing might be projection, but who cares!)

Hermione has such an interesting underdeveloped relationship with her parents. They’re rarely if ever mentioned, and when they are mentioned, they never seem to know the full story of what exactly is going on at Hogwarts.

At least, based on the fact that they let her keep going to Hogwarts, you wouldn’t expect them to know.

On top of that, nearly every summer, she stays a large portion of her time at the weasleys. she also stays at Hogwarts during breaks, despite having the option to leave.

I find it fascinating that Hermione was even capable of obliviating her parents memories in the first place. This must have caused massive amounts of grief and agony to have surfaced. Yet she still did it.

Now I know she isn’t perfect, keeping skeeter in a jar and scarring that girls face in 5th year, but still, she was more okay with her parents completely forgetting her existence then attempting to find a different solution?

The only way to make that sort of decision easier, is your parents already not knowing you.

Which leads into my idea, I wish fanfics delved a little deeper into the idea that Hermione might have been neglected, at least emotionally so.

It may just be me, but most of these signs seem to point to some form of neglect.

See the thing about neglect is that it’s a slow acting poison in a lot of ways. Unnoticeable to those around you, and easy to ignore when it comes to yourself.

I think it would be so easy for fanfic writers to draw a connection between Hermione’s drive for academic success and plausible neglect from her parents leading to a need to impress people to keep them around.

Her number one fear in third year was failure.

I can imagine a world where she grew up quiet, struggling to make friends from her slightly bossy nature and higher intelligence. She noticed that she was special in a way (magically so), but she didn’t pay too much mind to it as neither did her parents.

But as dentists, as people who have gone through higher levels of academia, they would have paid attention to her success in school.

It wasn’t a lot of course. They’re both dentists, they both have full time jobs and no other kids, so she was just alone most of the time with her books as she didn’t have friends either.

It was lonely, but it was survivable, there was food on the table, a roof over her head, a warm bed to go to sleep in, and those brief moments where her parents would surpass her expectations and actually do something that showed that they cared and noticed her beyond her academic achievements for once.

Then she gets to Hogwarts, and the weekly letters turn into monthly ones. She tries to tell herself that all of them have just gotten busier with work and school. She doesn’t quite succeed in being convincing, but she goes back during winter break anyway.

She only ever goes back again in 6th year.

It would be so easy for her not to mention her parents, as they have a good steady job (with stable income, unlike the weasleys) and they don’t exactly outwardly harm her (like the dursleys).

It would be so easy to see her parents lack of attention or care as simple freedom, or her wanting too much, or not trying hard enough.

Because after all, she’s not helping by not sending letters either, or telling them the full story of what happened that school year when she does meet up with them.

[reasonsmandy]

A letter?

Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon — Hi!!! Love your writing so much!! Not sure if you’re still doing requests lol, butttt I have a really specific one so if you’d be able to do this I’d like actually die omg. Okay so I’m a fashion student from LA and I was thinking, the reader is like basically siblings with billy and Graham, (her dad and their mom started dating when they were kids so they were practically raised together) but she’s closest with Eddie in particular. They’re best friends. They’ve basically been attached at the hip since they were kids. They’re both secretly harboring feelings for each other and everyone knows it but themselves. She’s been there for them since the band started, like Camilla, making them outfits for gigs and stuff. and Eddie even takes her to prom when her date ends up being a jerk to her. Butttt the reader ends up moving to LA to go to fashion school (maybe eventually she can be their costume designer for the aurora tour 🙏) and Eddie slowly stops talking to her god knows why. Fast forward- The band moves out to LA and they stay with her until they’re stable enough to be out on their own. The tension is super high between her and Eddie and EVERYONE notices. Super Angsty. Ends in fluff and love confessions 🫶 maybe angry billy lol. AGAIN THANK YOU!!! I know that was super complicated. YOUR WRITING AND EDITS ARE AMAZINGGGG !!

✧.* you're reading part one, here's the sequel — You matter to me

✧.* summary — You and Eddie were a story in the making, which you were sure had been finished after the way you left. But now with your reunion, perhaps there is a reticence.

✧.* warnings — none.

✧.* word count — 3.2k

✧.* 🎸 — Eddie's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I love this ask! And I'm working on part two for it already. Please, lmk what you guys think of this back and forth writing dynamics.

You drop your keys into the jar that was on the table next to the door, then hang your coat on the hanger as you try to speed up the process to finally rest from a long day. The apartment was dark and you didn't bother turning on all the lights, contenting yourself with just the orange light from the kitchen, you went to the counter, checking the letters you had received and also collecting some newspapers from the previous days to throw away.

Days like these make you miss the constant movement and excitement that your life in Pittsburgh contained, your thoughts from time to time hovered over delicious memories that you, whether or not you wanted to have a taste of once again. It had been a few months since studying fashion had brought you to LA, and even if you were satisfied with several friends and studying what you loved, there was a huge lack of what remained there.

With the feeling of nostalgia tugging at the pit of your stomach, you head to your phone to call the number you used to answer. At the end of the line you hear three rings before the hiss and finally a voice.

“Hello?” The unexpected voice makes you wonder if you had the wrong number.

“Uh, I'm looking for Mrs Dunne?” Your voice was tired, at this point you just wanted to kill the longing.

“Y/N?” You hear the questioning after a silence, and recognizing the voice makes the butterflies in your stomach rise.

“Yeah Eddie, it's me.” You say in a breath, and once again you receive silence.

“Y/N my dear, how is everything going there?” You try to avoid the feeling of sadness about what had happened, swallowing hard.

“Everything good, and things there?” You are amazed at how natural your voice sounds.

“It's actually a bit chaotic, the boys are packing everything up in a hurry to move.” She says in a nervous laugh.

“Move? What do you mean?” You try to remember having received this information before, but you can't find it.

“Didn't you receive my letter? They will try to grow the band in LA, you might even meet up. Isn't it great? Your brothers miss you.” You didn't know if you believed the last sentence, at least not in the plural. Graham and you talked sometimes, but you and Billy hadn't talked since your move.

“That's awesome! I'm happy to hear that.” You indeed were, but you couldn't help but feel the confusion of why all this was happening now.

…

You have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor of Graham's room as he murmured about how unfair life was, and at that point you tried your best to help your half brother with any advice you came up with. Your face was resting on the bed when you and he looked at the door when you heard Billy knock three times, indicating that he was going to come in. They were your brothers since you were two years old, when your father married the boys' mother you grew up together in that house mostly without any problems.

They were kind to you, they always were, even though Billy was more distant. You knew someone that he was marked by something that you weren't here to witness, but in a way you understood how much a parent was missed.

The older Dunne sits on the edge of the bed, watching his older brother frustrated, you notice that he holds back his laughter feeling the nostalgia of something that perhaps he has already been through. You thought about whether you should go out and leave them alone, but you figured that if you stayed quiet it wouldn't get in the way.

“They'll be other girls.” Billy tries to comfort him, Graham for the first time stops staring at the ceiling to look at his brother.

“And how'd you know that?” You watch them talking and try your best to go unnoticed.

Billy looks at you, his gaze urgently asking you to help him with this.

“Because you know how to play the guitar" Your voice barely comes out, since you hadn't spoken for so long. Your older brother looks at you with a subtle look of 'what the fuck?'. You shrug, completing the sentence. “What? I heard it's something girls like.”

Graham lets out a muffled laugh and you're happy to have made him laugh, Billy frowns and you can see a bit of jealousy there which makes you smile.

“And besides.” Billy continues, looking at Graham again. “You’re fourteen years old!”

You laugh and your brothers accompany you. It's a comforting memory, one of the moments when you felt welcomed and loved.

However, from that day onwards Graham's obsession with having a band was born. You thought it was a good idea, after all, you spent the afternoon idly after all your homework was done, and when you sat down to design different types of clothes and sometimes sewing something with Mrs. Dunne Graham hovered around making sounds of boredom, you knew that would be good to entertain him.

He had invited his best friends, who you had been attending since you had moved in at the Dunne house. You can vividly remember the morning you were woken up by the thunderous sound of drums coming from downstairs, you curse and mumble, getting up to find out what it was about.

When you get to the bottom of the stairs, you come face to face with Warren trying to arrange his drum kit in the living room of your house, you blink a few times trying to shake off the sleep that still resides within you, Eddie's figure appears soon after with his guitar hanging around his neck. He smiles at you and you give him an even wider one.

“Does Mrs Dunne know what you guys are doing here?” You say in a laugh, Warren turns to Eddie for that answer, his messy curls reaching his eyes.

“I guess so…” Roundtree answers you, moving closer to you. And your body demonstrates a fact that you had hidden from your brother: the girl who was attracted to men who played guitar was you, and he was the boy you felt attracted to. “Do you know where Graham is, sunshine?”

Your legs shake at the nickname that gradually became common coming from him, you shake your head, spending as much time as possible observing Roundtree closely. “I literally just woke up. But assuming that you guys already looked for him in his room, you should try the garage.”

“On it!” Warren exclaims, heading towards the garage but not before winking at Eddie who rolls his eyes.

You frown, and are slowly eroded by the silence that surrounds you and Roundtree. He clears his throat “I think they made omelets, if I were you I'd run before Chuck finds out.”

“Would you like to join me?” You ask in a whisper, afraid of the answer. "I mean, if I'm not busy with all this.” You gesture to the instruments piled up on the couch and Rojas' drums.

“I'd love that.” He smiles, leaving you with the pleasant nervousness of falling in love.

…

Now the orange light wasn't enough to make you see your surroundings without your eyes hurting, so getting rid of the vivid memory you decide to immerse your thoughts in what you loved the most ‘create clothes’. Recently you were obsessed with a specific style you had noticed on the streets of the city, and the way women in particular looked most beautiful in the prints you had in mind, your goal now was to create a line to present in the same style and this had involved your last thoughts and efforts in the last few days.

You didn't know how to shake off the bittersweet feeling of having your childhood experiences in the same city, it was good when it came to homesickness, but you couldn't shake off the thought that would always go to Eddie Roundtree. After all, even after so long you couldn't shake the love that arose in your chest when his face came back to memory.

You smile when you remember that innocent and calm love that always surrounded you two, the first of so many things for each other, your firsts were his and his were yours. And even though he seemed to try, distance wouldn't erase that, but of course, the thought that he wanted to delete such memories hurt.

Of course, you weren't sure about that, you had no way of knowing if he actually wanted to erase everything you lived through since you didn't speak to each other anymore. But it was customary for you to always expect the worst so as not to be disappointed if it turns out to be true.

…

You accompanied your brothers to band practice with your sketchbook in hand, with no other plans for the afternoon other than watching them play while using the band and their inspirational styles. You guys liked the idea that in the future you would be successful as a fashion designer and they would be the biggest band in the world with you making every outfit they would wear off and on stage.

“Hey Y/N, glad you're joining us!” Chuck says as he opens the garage door for you to enter, you smile.

“Thanks for having me.” You thank him, already taking your place on the ottoman he used to leave for you there. "Cami, You came!" You say running towards your good friend, and now, sister-in-law.

“But of course, I wasn't going to miss a preview of your prom show.” She says hugging you back, then looking at the boys.

“Yeah, about that…” Your voice makes all the boys look at you scared. "No! Oh sorry, now that I noticed what you could understand, What I meant was that I don't even know if I'm going.”

“What? Why?” Warren asks, twirling one of the drumsticks in your left hand.

“I thought you were looking forward to it.” Graham adds, intrigued along with concerned.

“She was, what happened sunshine?” Eddie asks, you could see he was very confused.

“I just don't want to be alone, you all already have dates." You try to explain, they look at you intently. "And my friends too, so..."

“I thought you liked our dates." Chuck says, trying to tell you that you would still have their company.

“Yeah, and besides, you know Amanda is looking forward to meeting you.” Rojas says, referring to his date and new girlfriend.

Eddie didn't say anything, but you feel his gaze on you the entire time, which makes you avoid his gaze.

“Are you being serious?” Billy asks, his tone sharp as usual. You shrug. “I thought that Jamie guy was going with you." You can see he's holding himself back from rolling his eyes, and Eddie stops looking at you to look at him.

“Jamie?” Warren asks what everyone was wanting. "Really?”

“You said that it was a bad idea.” You say angrily to Billy, because he was acting like he wasn't partly to blame for this.

“Yes, but if you're going to complain about going alone, you'd better accept the invitation." You suck in a breath, and Billy triggers a deafening silence in the room.

“I'm going out for a walk.” You say leaving, if you let no one stop you or ask you to stay.

“Really bro?” You hear Rojas' voice as it fades out as you move away.

You don't know how long you spent kicking pebbles on the sidewalk outside your house, slowly becoming grateful that your house wasn't so far from Chuck's and that soon you were on your own. You feel the presence of someone approaching, and decide not to look at whoever it was, it was still daytime and you didn't feel threatened by being alone on the street.

“Billy is a dick!” Roundtree speaks, sitting next to you, and you laugh melancholically. “I'm sorry about him, you know that if you don't want you, you don't have to do anything, right?”

You nod, still looking ahead and not at him. And that's why you don't notice how nervous he was, thinking minutely about his next words and how to do it. He opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything a couple of times before getting straight to the point.

“Go with me.” That's all he says, and you look at him with a frown.

“Is this a joke?” You start to get irritated just by this prospect, he holds your thigh so you don't get up.

“No.” He makes it clear, and you try to understand what the hell was going on. “I don't have a date.”

“But you said…”

“Let me be clearer." He says, holding back a laugh. "I don't have a date anymore.”

“You didn't have to do that." You say, with a bittersweet feeling of happiness.

“I wanted to, and besides, you know my times with you are always amazing.” You feel your cheeks burn as your smile widens. "So, what do you say?”

“Of course, I'd love to go with you." You hug him, feeling your body fill with butterflies. "Thank you, really.”

“I'll pick you up at eight?" He says, seeing you get up to go to your house.

“But don't you go early to check the sound?" You say holding back a smile.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.” He says scratching the back of his head. “Then...”

“We can meet at Chuck's.” You say, completing his reasoning.

…

You take a deep breath before you knock on the door, automatically holding your folder with your drawings close to your chest, as if that would protect them from any judgment you theorized could happen.

When the wooden object opens, you can't contain your smile, and open your arms to welcome your brother in a hug. He squeezes you with longing and happiness, in the corner of your eyes you can see the rest of the band smiling when they look at you. When breaking away from the hug, everyone in the band gets their due "hi" and "I missed you!" of you, as soon as you finish talking to Karen and getting to know her you turn to Roundtree.

“Hey.” You say in a low voice, as if anything that involved you and Eddie was a secret. Perhaps a force of habit.

“Hello Y/N” His voice comes out harshly, something you hadn't imagined coming from your reunion.

“Good to see you.” By this time, you were feeling the tension building up. “Look, maybe we should talk about…”

“I don't think that's a great idea.” He cuts you off, avoiding looking deep into your eyes.

“Oye Eddie, check out this vest that I brought!” Rojas' voice calls him, and you try to ignore the tightness in your chest.

“I'll see you around.” He says, walking over to the curly-haired drummer.

“Everything alright, honey?” Camila's voice makes you jump in fright, but when you come face to face with her, your body melts.

You hug her immediately, gradually feeling calmer. "I'm so glad you're here, you have no idea”

She notices your gaze fixed on Eddie when you leave the hug, and knows (more than anyone) what that gaze held. All the history you had since that prom, which was put on hiatus due to the reticence caused by your departure.

“So you and Eddie?” She asks, looking concerned.

“I fear that's not even a thing anymore.” You swallow your upset, and put into practice what brought you there. “Hey y'all, gather here! I can't wait to show you what I came up with since I knew you were coming.”

“You know we don't even have a record company yet, right?” Billy asks, but not in a harsh, rude tone. But in fact, genuinely curious.

“I know, but you wouldn't come here if you didn't believe you were going to wear these clothes on stage one day." You smile, causing your brother to do the same. “So shut up and come and see it.”

You see they laugh with you, not noticing that Eddie was holding his.

…

Your hands shook as you positioned the letter in front of your boyfriend, if you could call him that. For everyone, Eddie had only done you a favor on the day of the prom, but in reality you had been sneaking out ever since.

The vivid memory of the cold wind hitting your skin took you to that night, ‘The Dunne brothers’ had already made the show a while ago and he didn't take long to grab your hand and guided you to the roof. You had no idea if they were allowed to be there, but fuck it, you had finished school and nothing would be important after that night.

You sat together eating some food that you had brought, and the comfortable silence hovered between you. You feel his gaze on you, and you slowly gain the courage to say what you've been thinking since that day began.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. “For doing this with me.”

“Are you kidding?” He says between a laugh. "I always have a blast with you. And to be honest, I kinda want this to last forever.”

“Yeah me too.” You look deep into his eyes, and see him get closer, interspersing his gaze between your lips and your eyes.

It stops when you are inches close, You feel his breathing and his intense gaze, little by little the party music fades away, being replaced by the beat of his heart.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper, looking now at his lips.

“Your brothers are going to kill me." He says jokingly, making you smile. “But I never cared what they thought anyway.”

One of his hands goes up to your cheeks, caressing your skin before kissing your lips. You didn't know what an explosion it would be like when it happened, but your body surrendered to it every second, and since then, you two haven't been able to put an end to it. And honestly, you didn't even want to.

Eddie takes the letter in hand, knowing that your nervousness probably indicated something. He wasn't angry, but disappointed, and it broke your heart.

“You were going to leave me a letter?” He speaks in disbelief, a few tears appearing in his eyes.

“Babe, let me explain…” You say but he interrupts you.

“You were going to leave, and I was going to be the last to know…” Your voice was choked, and you felt your tears running down your cheeks. "Damn sunshine, a fucking letter?!”

“I couldn't find the right time to tell you. " You say taking his hands, sitting next to him. "I didn't want to upset you…”

“Did you really think I was going to be upset?" He looked hurt by it all, and you wanted to disappear. "That I would be upset watching my girlfriend achieve her dream?"

“When you put it like that, well.” You close your mouth before finishing your thought.

“I wish you the best." He stands up, and you watch him closely. “You will rock, I'm sure.”

“Where are you going?” You say through tears, and he turns so you don't see his.

“I need some air. " He says, opening the door, and leaving.

You didn't see him in the days after, and on the day you were all packed to leave… he left you a letter.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

-> Part two will be out soon!

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[michellezagenda]

its so sad seeing younger women like 18/19 make an onlyfans and post graphic content with their faces involved while also attending college in hopes of a stable career when they’re finished…..modern feminism and this porn addicted culture has lied to them and told them that they’re going to be able to bounce back once college is over and that it isn’t a big deal, they only did OF to make money while in school …😬 reality is going to hit and its not going to be pretty. these women will unfortunately be forced to be in this cycle until they can potentially have a somewhat decent job again….

[ridiasfangirlings]

SaruMi AU but Yata has a semi-normal job and Saruhiko is making a living as a Lolita fashion influencer who fucking hates his fans.

Imagining Fushimi dressed head to toe in the sweetest Angelic Pretty print possible, staring at his camera in utter loathing as he films a video XD Maybe Yata doesn’t even entirely know that this is what Fushimi does, like say this is no-powers AU where Yata and Fushimi were school friends who had a bad falling out and then make back up years later when they’re older. They start dating and as far as Yata knows Fushimi’s job mostly consists of coding work that he does freelance for S4 Systems, it doesn’t seem like Fushimi works super regularly considering the size of his salary but Yata figures well, his boss seems pretty doting so maybe Saruhiko is getting extra money just for that. Yata does his best working a series of part time jobs in like construction and at the occasional sporting goods shop. Even though they’re dating they haven’t taken the step to move in together yet, Yata keeps hinting at it and Fushimi acts like he has no idea what Yata’s talking about. Yata thinks maybe Fushimi is trying to hint that Yata needs a stable job so he can pay his half of the rent before Fushimi will move in with him so he starts looking for steady work.

Meanwhile the real reason Fushimi doesn’t want to move in with Yata is he doesn’t want Yata to know his actual hobby and part time job, as a lolita fashion influencer. It’s not like he enjoys the influencer part, say he started wearing the dresses as a way to go out and not be recognized by other people because he’s buried in frills and bows and wearing a wig. He starts a regular video channel just to catalog his own purchases and somehow gains a following, I imagine him being constantly snarky and having all this thinly veiled contempt for his fans and yet even so he’s still popular. Fushimi would be happy to just live off his coding work but he needs the extra income to buy dresses and take Yata on fancy dates. Of course he’s also worried that Yata will find out about his channel at some point, he knows that Yata is no good with girls and if he saw Fushimi dressed in frills he would definitely think less of Fushimi (wait imagine they have run into each other before though, when Fushimi was dressed up, and Yata didn’t recognize him at all and in fact thought he was a girl and got all blushy, which Fushimi found very amusing once he realized his cover hadn’t been blown). Fushimi manages to keep it hidden for a while until he makes the mistake of giving Yata an extra key to his apartment and one day when Fushimi’s filming and Yata’s supposed to be at work Yata walks in to find his boyfriend wearing a cute dress and what looks to be a teacup on his head and now Yata is extremely confused. 

[cagednoob]

More turtles….

Yeah some of these I’m not super duper happy about. Clothes are hard. But I had fun theorizing about them! The one most likely to have clothes change is Jennika cause… yeah. Other than Mei and Lita, designs are also viable to change.

I just wanted casual clothes :( but I had no idea what to do 8n8

So rambles about ideas under the read more!

Mei (AKA Venus)

Mei is one of the two siblings that is swept away from the turtle brothers. And she is found by Tang Shen, a zoologist (or something). Shen at first thinks Mei is just a weird weird new species, until she actually starts to mimic her, and cling to her side similar to a child.

Shen realizing this is so much more and instantly getting attached decides fuck it. Time to raise a turtle baby. She moves out to more rural areas within New York to raise Mei where she can be safe and hidden away from people who would want to hurt her. She buys a farm off a nice family and packs everything up to go.

Mei is raised sheltered underneath her mother, and is homeschooled. She loves the countryside, and it allows her to explore to her heart’s content.

She has her own collection of things she finds outside: bugs, feathers, rocks, interesting plants and sometimes the few bone fragments around.

Mei does have at least one friend. The kid(s) of the family who previously owned the land would sometime come out to the property in childish rebellion and they met one day. So she does have that at least.

They’re fascinated by her, and also she’s smart and will do their homework for free. And she’s just eager to hear about the city life and the people!

Teng isn’t the most thrilled about this. But by the time she discovers this, there isn’t much she can do to stop it. Eventually she starts dating a man named Yoshi, and yeah at first he is freaked out by the fact his girlfriend has a mutant turtle daughter. But he eventually just shrugs about it cause there’s weirder things out there.

Mei gets to meet the turtles one day, but it isn’t a sibling bond. More of a friendly bond. And she does get to go to school! Which she’s super eager about and absolutely bouncing about. Aaaaand one day she does get a younger sister when Teng and Yoshi have a daughter named Miwa.

- Why Yoshi and Teng are her parents here is because Baxter and Superfly are separated so I figured why not.

- Also making her keep the name Mei, since there’s plenty of artists named Mei and I do like it ngl.

Frida

Frida is one of the two and that is separated from the brothers, and gets the short end of the stick sort of. Similar to the brothers she gets adopted by another mutant who is mutated by touching the ooze on her.

This mutant happened to be a spider, who becomes Big Mama. Who considers eating Frida, but decided not to. For reasons I haven’t decided yet.

Big Mama does love Frida, but mostly sees her as just a source to provide her with food. And Frida knows her job from a young age to provide for mama. She’s ruthless and uncaring to anything she grabs for her Mama.

Frida gets the short end of the stick as she is very much just a tool for Mama. And has to essentially fend for herself and teach herself. She’s quiet and calculating and just surviving rather than living.

Not sure how she would meet the other turtles, but it’s kind of a shock to her seeing the contrast of how she grew up and them (and Mei). She still has that instinct to feed her Mama, but also… it’s so nice to just relax? And not have to worry about her next meal, or if her parental figure is going to devour her if she gets too hungry.

Frida either moves in with Mei and her family OR with the turtles in my hypothetical AU. She still goes and visits her Mama who is mourning her loss tbh, but it is nice to just live in a stable environment once.

I imagine once Mama has changed enough and made an actual nice living place for Frida, she does move back in. They both learn how to be a family after seeing how other mutants have worked to do the same.

- Frida is super last minute as I just recently found out about her. Also I know she’s the “Venus” of ROTTMNT, buuuuuut they had also said new characters instead. So new character route.

- She wears dark clothes more frequently than the turtles. Buuuut after a while of learning to live she becomes a color fanatic.

Lita & Jennika

Lita and Jennika are “siblings” as they’re a part of an experimental batch. An experimental batch made by T.C.R.I.. They had successfully milked the turtles of ooze, and decided to make more stock to produce more.

And thus Lita and Jennika were grabbed to provide more of this ooze aaaaaaand they didn’t grab two turtles of the same age. Lita is very much a baby, and far too young to go through that.

Jennika is the only one old enough to produce ooze without potentially dying. But she’s only one individual and can’t go through this constantly. So T.C.R.I. is just stuck in a vicious cycle of not being able to get the amount they want cause they need to let her take breaks.

Jennika is very duty oriented, because this was what she was made for. This is her job and her life purpose. Buuuuut she is soft for Lita who is just a baby. And is basically a parent to her.

They get busted out and Jennika has the hardest time adjusting to freedom. She probably bonds hard with Frida tbh. But she is the closest to become a part of the brothers dynamic. She’s just got the cool older serious sister vibes.

Which tbh she’s spent her life taking care of Frida, so she sees them and goes “is anyone gonna stop these knuckleheads” and steps in.

Lita is adopted by Splinter and Stunkbug, and tries to also be the parent of Jennika. But she’s a tad resistant to that. And absolutely stressed about her baby sister not being her responsibility.

Lita gets to grow up in a family where she isn’t encouraged to stay hidden, and isn’t a product to be produced by a big evil company.

- If Frida was last minute then these two are SUPER last minute.

- They’re together since I haven’t figured out too much tbh about either of them. Just this much.

- Lita is adopted by Splinter and is raised as his daughter. Since I kind of am not a great fan of her seeing the brothers as her dads. Idk I just don’t like it personally.

- I played with the idea of Jennika being taken in by Shredder to pay homage to her origins in comic as a foot soldier. But ehhh it felt even more clunky tbh.

- Also neither are humans since I’m not sure if MM if human-to-mutant is even a thing. But that’s down to change. And if so I will probably make Jennika at least a weird mix of human/turtle (Lita can stay turtle tho).

[spindle-girl]

Daybreak 1.2

Belt.  Holster.  I threaded the belt through my belt loops, careful to position the holster.

Victoria's got a gun?! i've heard she gets a big tinker one later on, but i assumed that was a one time, fight a big boss type of deal

I used fingernails to comb my hair back, then began braiding it.  I had to look in the mirror to make sure I’d gotten all of the stray strands. Hi me, I thought, as I made eye contact. How to describe that feeling?  Something resembling relief and a sinking feeling at the same time. It was a small feeling but still one that I would carry with me for the rest of the day.  That day would be a little bit worse because of the moment, but it would feel more stable for the reminder, too.

Fun Times with Victoria Dallon and body issues. part one of many i presume

One blob around New York, one blob around the New Brockton settlement, clusters south of New Brockton, near what would or should be Boston, and everything had spread out or extended from there, mostly hugging the coast and connecting to one another.

goodbye breadth :(

like, this is kind of it, in the sense that if you go far enough you'll eventually hit another portal like the one they go to in this chapter with Earth N, but with the way it was described in the epilogues i imagined them all focused on one central area in NY, as a kind of hub. this seems more like it's using the ones Faultline created in the timeskip instead of the ones Khepri made at the last minute

We drove past skyscrapers paneled in gold-tinted glass. Solar glass, it was supposed to be called.

oh cool. explains the gold lining last chapter

“Mingle.  Show your faces, let people know we’re around.  Ask how they’re doing.  What do they think?  Look for anyone antsy, especially anyone antsy that we’re there.  Don’t engage if there’s trouble.  Let the police know and let me know, and we’ll figure it out.” “I like looping through the crowds,” Jasper said.  “We did that once or twice, when Gilpatrick was calling the shots, last year.  People don’t see the face or the hair, only the uniform.  If you loop back, it looks like there are more of us than there are.”

i really don't like the patrol group yall

“We don’t have a group like yours here.  You’re all so young.” I kept still, not letting my emotions show.  I felt the sinking feeling again, without the relief, and without the steadiness that I got from seeing myself in the mirror. Not a big thing.  It was like treading water and a hand on my forehead pushing me down, before pulling away.  Surfacing again, finding my equilibrium, realizing how tired I was as I resumed treading water. I was very aware of the eyes on us.

oh boy. being Victoria Dallon is not a good time

Fume Hood did have a hood, as part of a green hooded coat she wore.  Fans were built into the coat, only partially disguised, each of them much like the ones that were built into the back of a computer, and they made her coat, hair, and hood flap.

do these help her power in some way or did she go to the Eidolon-school of costume design lol

End Notes:

i'm guessing the anti-cape stuff is going to lead to Victoria using her power to get a hold of the situation which will cause her underlings to make an uproar and her getting fired so that she can partner up with Breakthrough. dunno how she's getting there right now. or maybe she quits after their reaction to her

[cherriesfm]

[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed JOSEPHINE RYDER walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who SHE/HER is/are ? they kind of look like GRACE VAN PATTEN and i could be wrong but i think that they might be TWENTY-SIX years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last 2 MONTHS. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of ZOE HART from HART OF DIXIE. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at SEAGLASS HEIGHTS HOSPITAL as a RESIDENT. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the THE EBULLIENT of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty LOUD at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty EMPATHETIC to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that THREE BEDROOM apartment beside me over in SEAGLASS HEIGHTS. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you!

୨୧ STATS

full name: josephine ryder.

nicknames: josie, jo.

age: twenty-six.

gender & pronouns: cisfemale. she/her.

sexuality: bi.

occupation: doctor.

label: the ebullient.

counterpart: zoe hart /hart of dixie.

୨୧ BACKSTORY & PERSONALITY

josephine never met her biological dad but throughout the years, she was used to seeing different men attempt to fill that gap.

josie and her mom were as close as can be but only when her mother was single.

whenever a new man walked into their lives, he became priority number one as josie watched her mom morph herself into a likeable version for them.

and whenever they would eventually leave, she would be left to pick up the pieces of her mother's broken heart.

her mother's way of coping? packing up and moving to a new town! fresh start!

safe to say things were never stable for josephine and she got used to changing schools and friends often while growing up.

she vowed to never be like her mother and wanted nothing more than to settle down so when her boyfriend of 7 years finally proposed, josie jumped at the chance of a stable life at last.

she got a job at her dream hospital, got married, bought a house, did the whole thing and was so happy.

though that was shortlived. josie eventually found out her husband had been cheating on her their entire relationship, long before they even got married, and it broke her entirely.

she thought she had her entire life finally figured out, that she could fully unpack her suitcase and settle somewhere.

it was then that she finally understood why her mother always reacted the way she did.

she was relieved when she found another hospital to transfer to in palmview and instantly packed up her life and moved here!

she's been in palmview for 2 months and is still trying to adapt to being on an entirely different life path than she thought she would continue on.

despite the things she's been through, josie is very cheerful. sometimes to a fault because she'll use it as a wall to hide her feelings behind.

she's optimistic and hopeful and trying to occupy her time with a million different things at once so she doesn't have a moment to think about her old life or grief it.

she's an overall v loud and fun person to be around though it gets annoying cause whenever she gets an impulsive idea she HAS to see it through

୨୧ WANTED CONNECTIONS

friend she kept in touch with (someone josie built a really strong friendship with at one of her mother's heartbreak tour stops and actually felt devastated she had to move away but kept in touch.. eventually coming back to them in palmview)

one of her mother's exes.. and/or exes' kid (umm that would be really funny idk)

this is a v hard character to plot past things with im realizing now so... im so sorry LMFASO

maybe even ex husband? he would've had to literally JUST move in now though or at least after she did (i.e has been in palmview less than 2 months)

[femchef]

can i ask a restaurant question? i watched a short from a youtuber asking her coworkers about knives they cook with. it looks like they are at work, but they’re talking about knives they bought/were gifted. is it common to cook professionally in a kitchen with equipment you bring from home?

@intobarbarians This is such a great question!!! Ahhhhhhhhh ok ok here we go:

Alright so - there are CAVEATS, but the short answer? You bring your own knives.

More specifically - if you are a savory chef/line cook, you bring your own knives.

Ok so there’s a lot of interesting culture that’s specific to career culinarians (line cooks, prep cooks, bakers, pastry chefs, etc., etc.,):

First, know that standard kitchens DO have their own house knives. They are super beat up, typically no one sharpens the r hones them as often as they deserve or require (sharpen every 2 weeks for heavy use, hone with steel as needed, hopefully at least once a week). These are the knives you reach for in emergency (or occasionally hazing). They are old and battered and have seen things and they’re not even 2 years old yet. The knife you need the most is the chef’s knife and even though you KNOW you have five on hand somehow they’re all missing except for the thin one with the shittily balanced weight in the tang, and the last person who used it didn’t wipe off their minced chives before they stuck it back up on the magnet strip. **

Well-funded kitchens and larger facilities will often contract with a company that comes and sharpens knives and rotates fresh blades every two weeks (this is typically the same person/business who sharpens blades for barbers and ALSO is typically a farrier in the local area if you are somewhere with a lot of stables). However, two weeks is still too long in most cases for the amount of use these poor abused tools get.

Nearly everyone brings their knife kit/knife roll***. It sounds pretentious because reality tv plays it up too much - but it’s practical. That kit travels with the owner too - it comes to work with you and leaves with you. Because if it doesn’t travel with you it’s going to get kidnapped by one of the eight close quarters people you work with daily with ruthless efficiency and you will never see it again.

Quality knives are expensive - the cost for nicer individual knives ranges from 375$ to 2500$, and typically you will carry 5-7 knives in your personal kit. I worked with a line cook who dropped 1500$ on a boning knife (look it up - skinny, long blade, thin and whippy, with a gentle curve on the back; typically for cleaning and filleting fish). ****

Ones get really personal - a lot of folks on the line will show off their knives - either when they first meet as an ice breaker and a dick waving contest, or just because the topic of knives came up, or because they are complaining about the sad knife in the magnet again.

Mentoring chefs in kitchens will occasionally gift beginning/in training young cooks some of their first pieces for their knife kit - it’s actually really, really sweet and especially significant if your mentor gives you one of their old knives to keep and care for in your kit.

Kitchens have a very prevalent journeyman/guild/master mentality, it’s very practical and oftentimes a bit old fashioned. Combined with high stress, constant on the job training, and having to work in close quarters for extreme hours with limited groups of people, it gets to be really intense and dramatic, so that sort of meaningful gifting happens in moments of intimate acknowledgment of someone showing significant skill advancement. It’s not surprising that a lot of folks talk about their inside stories in that light.

For culinarians who start with school, your knife kit is one of the first required purchases, along with your books, and accredited schools require their students to sit and pass a knife safety course and skills exam before permitting them to start practical classes. The kit bags tend to be clunkier, and the e knives are standard and basic - a lot of students begin to pick new, individual knives of more expensive quality and replace the originals in their early kits, it’s interesting to watch and see who does it. Students tend to find their first roll or slim case for their kits - easier to carry, more personalization (this especially), wanting to look cool and not like a student fresh out of culinary school.

[** the exception to this are the secret knives in the locked/hidden pastry cabinet separate from the house set; pastry folks are less likely to bother with knife kits on a regular basis, though you see them more often in the pastry kitchen than you used to]

[*** again, pastry is an exception fairly often - they just. Don’t tote personal materials around like that, mostly because there are TOO MANY TINY THINGS]

[**** yeah don’t spend that much on a boning knife please.]