#anyway looking at the other people i see this from. looking at my own numbers

[lobautumny]

Not to mention shit like the speakers that are installed in a bunch of public spaces that play extremely loud sounds at a very high pitch that are specifically designed to not be audible to adults but to be extremely uncomfortable for children, to dissuade "dangerous antisocial behaviors" like... loitering. The horror.

A bunch of shitty adults act like it's remotely surprising that kids don't go outside and hang out with their friends anymore when, like, how and when and where are they supposed to do that? This toy knows your ass is too lazy to drive your kids anywhere that isn't on the way to somewhere that you wanted to go anyways more than once per month, and nearly a century of constant "you can't trust your neighbors" propaganda (red scare, gang fearmongering, muslim fearmongering, drug fearmongering, etc.) has left a ton of adults terrified of every unattended child they see outside, as well as being increasingly unwilling to let their own kids out of their sight for anything other than going to school. Also, when a given kid does have the means to hang out with friends on a regular basis, where do they have that they can go other than each other's houses? God knows that for the last several decades, the economy's been too shit for average working-class parents to give their kids an allowance, everything is extremely expensive, and there's never been less options for places kids can simply exist and hang out at outside.

Of fucking course kids are sitting inside on they phone all the damn time. They don't have anything else to do. Adults drove them away from everything else they could be doing because allowing children to exist anywhere is just too much of a hassle for anyone to bother dealing with. I mean, fuck, kids (especially non-white kids) can't even fucking play with toys outside anymore without running the risk of a cop shooting them in the head because they thought the bright orange Nerf blaster was a real gun (treated as a simple mistake, the cop gets suspended for a couple months and then gets to return to the force like nothing happened).

The fact of the matter is that the world in which we currently live fucking hates children. Children aren't treated as people. They're treated as political pawns, scapegoats, or property at best, and active threats at worst. Their suffering doesn't matter until they die, but then when they die, it's always "a freak tragedy that we simply could not have anticipated and cannot do anything to prevent future instances of." It's all reduced to abstract numbers that adults can shake their heads at, pretend to feel bad for a while, and then proceed to do fucking nothing about while another school gets shot up every week, and we all pretend it's normal because nobody wants to fucking address the fact that the way we treat children is beyond disgusting and unhealthy. We talk all the time about the online child grooming epidemic, cleverly point out how social media algorithms massively contribute to the problem and the platforms themselves knowingly do nothing about it, and then we all collectively shrug and look the other way. "Not my problem to deal with," everyone collectively says in unison. "It's not my kid," they say, until it is their kid, at which point it's yet another fucking "freak tragedy that could not have been prevented," and so it goes.

But god forbid a kid says they're queer and receives anything other than brutal punishment and bullying for it. Then, suddenly, by magic, everyone is an activist, everyone is a fucking expert on the online grooming problem as though they aren't so tech-illiterate that they're falling for AI boomerslop on Facebook, and everyone has a PhD in biology, and everyone has Opinions and is calling up their local legislators asking for quick, decisive action to be taken against this new social contagion corrupting our youth and for kids to be ripped away from their supportive parents and put into abusive foster programs. This toy knows that it has long since left the scope of the original point, but it's just so fucking angry. Ever since it was in middle school, it's known more people who were abused as kids or otherwise have extremely strenuous relationships with the adults in their lives than people who had what most people would try to convince you was a "normal" childhood in which they developed remotely positive relationships with the adults around them and were not abused and did not develop immense trauma as the direct result of shitty actions taken by malicious, stupid, or neglectful adults in their lives.

Children deserve far better than the world we have forced them to live in.

"kids these days don't loiter or act rebellious enough any more" kids just existing in public are more criminalized and surveilled than ever. almost every western country is running a panic about youth crime and how random teens standing awkwardly are a threat to civilization, and pushing for much more punitive laws. tons of states and powerful lobbies are pushing "parental right laws" that restrict the civil rights of minors even more. policing is first and foremost targeting youths, especially from low income and majority immigrant neighbourhoods. if a kid mildly steps out of line or says something awkward online or in a public space half a dozen people can whip up their phone and start mass harassment campaigns. and tech companies are now restricting access to the internet, the last way many teens can talk to each other freely and reach out to people outside family and school.

anyhow i think people really need to start giving kids at least a tiny bit more grace instead of making smug posts about how uncool they are compared to your youth days, you fucking twats

[mqriuss]

As an Apt-06 model, does Aptroid reader look like all the other Apt-06’s? Does Rindou walk on the street and get startled by the ghost of your face on a different person? Does he go home and hold Aptroid reader a little closer that night when he recalls seeing snother Apt-06 model left abandoned, bent and broken in a dark rainy alleyway? Or did Renji modify Aptroid reader before sending the package to Rindou’s place, customizing her face and body to be unique so she’s one of a kind despite sharing the same model number with others?

These are all really good questions, but every Aptroid looks different regardless of their model! (Unless for some reason they wanted to invent twins or triplet Aptroids then... yeah, they would look identical lmao). Aptroids look like humans and looking the same (as other Aptroids) would only make them easier to identify. Though maybe the earlier models of Aptroids looked the same until they started increasing in number and things were becoming more advanced so they started getting unique features.

Also 04, 05, 06, and 07 Aptroid models are the same as in they don't have any distinct and visible physical features that differentiates them from each other. The only way to know what model they are is by checking under their tongue with a flashlight, without the flashlight you won't be able to see their code. An example of an Aptroid code looks like this: 0720801230. 07 is the model type, 2080 is the year it was created, 12 is the month it was created and 30 would be the date. Another example: 0520670415.

Ok let's talk about reader's appearance now. Her case is honestly pretty weird cuz she's actually the default LIV Aptroid. To jog your memory, LIV is an Aptroid Girlfriend brand owned by one of the mega corporations in this au.

So... Renji did not customize her at all before giving her to Rindou. And sometimes Rindou really wishes Renji did it for him beforehand. Why? Well, there's two reasons: can you imagine being Rindou, walking along the streets lit up by neon signs and suddenly an advertisement for LIV, a hologram that looks exactly like you walks up to him, and starts flirting with him in ways he has never seen you do.

That, and there's a scene I kinda scrapped from my first post for cyberpunk Rindou where he actually gets a message from Renji saying that he kept her on default because he wasn't sure what kind of appearance and personality Rindou would like in a girlfriend. So then there's a scene of Rindou trying to customize her but... he just can't.

The thing is, most people do that with their Aptroid partners BEFORE interacting with them and normally they keep that appearance forever. Though some people want to use their Aptroid partners as some kind of barbie doll and change up their look every now and then.

But Rindou got to interact with you first. I mean, you literally welcomed him home after work on his birthday and startled him. You were his girlfriend before he even knew it. He felt... weirded out by the idea of changing your whole appearance and personality in general. He's never really thought about dating an Aptroid anyway, so if he ever found someone he likes, he wouldn't try to change them. So he treats you the same way. Also that guy is really chill, he'll get along with just about anyone so it never would have mattered to him.

I like to think Renji brings it up to him like, "you could have the girl of your dreams! Why keep her on default?"

But Rindou would simply shrug, it just feels weird to him. There's no other explanation.

However, Aptroids adapt to their surroundings and the people they spend a lot of time around. So for you, that's Rindou.

(fun fact: the newer models like 06 and 07s have shown to adapt in a quicker timespan compared to older models).

Perhaps it's wishful thinking, but Rindou really does think you've started becoming... real. The LIV advertisements bothered him more in the early stages of your relationship, but over time, he's started to see them as just different people—well, Aptroids—compared to you.

But those are advertisements. The LIV advertisements are customized differently to attract different customers. Not every customer has the same reasons for having Aptroid partners anyway. My point is, Rindou doesn't think the advertisements are actually default LIV Aptroids. You were a default. Your base personality was a standard one. Your body, face and hair type were also default LIV settings. But as time went on, you started feeling more and more like your own person, and Rindou could be a part of the reason. You adapted to him.

So to test this, Rindou would probably go to one of the LIV showrooms and ask for a true default LIV.

(Out of boredom and genuine curiosity of course! He's totally not trying to justify his thoughts about you becoming real)

Anyway, he isn't even given the original and first ever LIV Aptroid because she, too, has adapted to her surroundings. So they show him a new one. And it's hard to describe the way he feels when he interacts with her and compares her to you.

You're just not the same. She isn't his.

collection masterlist

note: kinda wish i could expand more on that last part where he meets a default LIV Aptroid, i might do that in a separate post one day, but here's what i got for you guys today! and happy valentines <3

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[a-man-in-the-crowd]

hihi i love everything about this post BUT i heard you mention the original william wilson being a cardsharper and came running to yap forgive me LMAO

i have like a huge card hyperfixation and when i read william wilson the main thing that rlly stuck with me is the card scene and since then i've been trying to think how that might relate to nevermore. after all, strategy games are a huge motif in this comic.

a theory i've seen going around is that will is supposed to be wilson, the dopplegänger, and montresor takes the place of the narrator. there's a lot to talk about there, but something i wanted to mention was that while will is never shown to play cards, monty is.

and, forgive me for perhaps reading a bit too much into this, but based on his 'ace in the hole' comment, it'd seem he's specifically referencing stud poker but like idk maybe he's just using whatever poker-related phrase to get his point across, it doesn't rlly matter i'm just yapping

in william wilson, wilson exposes william as a cheater at an underground casino (? idk some underground betting place). if the theory that will is wilson and monty is william then, well, i can only wonder how monty's been cheating. just a thought idk

back to the ace in the hole thing, i'm taking this to mean monty sees people as cards, things to use when need. if ada's his ace, what does that make will?

i think will is monty's wild card. wild cards are basically any card that by that game's rules can act as any other card (e.g: to make a straight/flush or five of a kind) yk. like will. who's always turning into who he needs to be to assist monty.

another way to look at it is that will is already playing cards without making it obvious.

basically every card game has the concept of keeping your cards to yourself, or at least not giving them all away. like in this scene that keeps me up at night!

whether from monty's instruction or by his own accord, will very deliberately chooses to reveal an ability that even he would think is useless. after all, who needs more of him? we know he has serious self-esteem issues, there's no way he thinks his duplication ability is useful. he can afford to reveal this ability, or card, because no one cares and if anything it'll make people deem him less of a threat. no need to pay attention to him!

he also has crazy good memory, too. he perfectly mimicks duke's appearance, save for the colour of his bowtie that no one would have noticed were it not for eulalie already being suspicious due to her rods (i don't doubt eula would have noticed anything amiss even without her rods, but it definitely helped that she had them), and the same for lenore. mind you, he's barely seen either of these people and of the two times he's met duke one of them was out of his uniform.

this trait of his probably wasn't written with cards in mind and rather for plot convenience (which is fine, of course) but if i REALLY wanted to fit this in to my card game nonsense, it's worth noting that memory is very important in a lot of card games. you gotta keep track of which cards have been played or given out, the number of cards in each player's hands, etc etc. all those little details. much like how will is very accurate in keeping track of the details people's appearances.

and one last thing. yk how the main colours in playing cards are black and red? i'm just saying!

anyways yes you get it!! the fact will uses ribbons as his weapon?? he entangles other people?? i'm thinking maybe it reflects how in life he always wanted people to be dragged into his shit and not the other way around, or how whatever stuff he got pulled into eventually hurt the people around him but like honestly no clue

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[alisonsfics]

words unsaid

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after months of flirting and unconfessed feelings, you and carmy get in an argument when a customer gives him her number.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, angst, carmy being completely unaware of everything

After wiping down your stations for the night, you and Carmy headed to the lockers to grab your bags. You both were exhausted after a hectic night.

“You have any plans for the rest of the night?” Carmy asked, curiously. You shrugged, looking over your shoulder at him as you fiddled with your locker. “You mean besides eating leftover pizza and then passing out from exhaustion?” You joked. You heard a small chuckle from Carmy.

He noticed you were tugging at the locker and the door seemed to be stuck. “Here, let me help you with that.” He offered.

You stepped out of the way and let Carmy take a shot at it. He jiggled the handle a few times and then was able to tug it open. “My hero,” you teased, as he walked back to his own locker.

If you had turned around, you would have seen the pink tint on Carmy’s cheeks.

“Anyway, did you want to maybe go grab a drink. I mean, only if you’re okay with postponing your pizza plans. Those sounded important though,” he teased you. You were one of the few people that Carmy would actually joke around with.

You jokingly scoffed at him. “My commitment to my leftover pizza is none of your business, Berzatto,” you responded, trying to maintain a serious tone. Once again, the sound of his soft chuckle met your ears.

“Hey, guys. Our last table wanted to personally thank their chefs.” Richie said, sticking his head around the corner.

Carmy gestured towards the door, politely letting you walk in front of him. Richie guided you both to the booth that currently seated three women. They were the only remaining customers from the dinner service.

Richie quickly introduced you both to them, and then he headed back to help with clean-up.

You noticed that two of the women seemed to be smirking at their other friend. “The food tonight was absolutely amazing.” One of them perked up and complimented you both.

You politely smiled, letting Carmy take the lead since he was the owner. You saw his posture shift as he went into customer service-mode.

“Thank you very much. Thank you for coming to visit us tonight. We’re glad you liked it.” He said, putting on a polite smile.

Carmy didn’t see it, but you noticed the two women quickly raise their eyebrows at their other friend. She then directed her attention to Carmy.

You knew where the conversation was going, and you hated how it tugged at your gut. You felt a heavy weight on your shoulders, and it took a lot for you to fake a smile.

Carmy was an attractive guy, and he was a chef, which was a pretty good recipe for success. You saw customers fawn over him constantly, but it never got easier.

That being said, Carmy wasn’t technically yours, but he was. He wasn’t your boyfriend by any means, and you weren’t his girlfriend. But, he dropped everything any time you called, and he’d do anything for you.

Your relationship was sometimes flirty, but neither of you had ever taken it further.

“Yeah, the food was really excellent. You’re an amazing chef. I definitely have a reason to come back.” The woman said, coyly.

You forced yourself to bite the inside of your lip, so you could keep your pleasant facade. You noticed their check sitting on the table and decided to use it as your excuse out of there.

“Thank you again for coming,” you said, smiling, grabbing the check, and heading back towards the kitchen. The woman looked like she finally realized you were standing there.

Carmy quickly thanked them again and followed right behind you.

Once the kitchen doors closed behind you, you turned to Carmy. “Being a chef does it every time, Berzatto,” you teased him.

Instead of being met by his usual grin, you saw him tilt his head as he tried to figure out what you were talking about.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked, when he couldn’t figure it out. You waited for a second, almost thinking he was playing dumb. “She was hitting on you, Carmy.” You told him. His eyes widened as he looked at you. “No, she wasn’t,” he argued.

You looked down at the check you were holding, which confirmed your suspicion when you saw a phone number written across the bottom of it.

“Really?” You asked, sliding the check into his hand. Your hand grazed his as you did, which almost made Carmy short circuit. He looked down at the check in his hand and saw the phone number clear as day.

“So, what am I supposed to do?” He asked you. From his perspective, he was asking how he was supposed to let her down and tell her he wasn’t interested. You didn’t take it that way.

“Well, if you’re interested, you call her.” You explained. He was speechless. He stood in front of you, not having a single coherent string of thoughts in mind.

“Wh…what—what do you mean?” He stumbled over his words.

You were practically fuming. You thought that you and Carmy had a thing going on, but he seemed to be pretty interested in asking this girl out.

“Are you interested? Do you want to go on a date with her?” You asked, your tone coming out a little more hostile than you intended. You were just jealous and even more unsure of where your and Carmy’s relationship stood.

“I…I don’t know,” he stammered, taken aback by this whole situation. He was getting love advice from the girl he wanted to be with, but was getting love advice for a different girl.

“Well, you’re the only one who can figure that out,” you huffed and quickly walked away from him. You knew if you continued the conversation for another minute, you’d start crying.

You grabbed your work bag and slammed your locker shut. “Woah, you okay?” Sydney asked from beside you. You hadn’t even noticed she was standing there. You took a deep breath before responding.

“Not really, you wanna go get a drink?” You asked her. She could tell that something had really gotten to you. “Yeah, of course. Is it about Carmy?” she asked, quietly. You just nodded, biting down on your lip and trying not to tear up.

“It’s okay. C’mon, let’s get you out of here,” she said, wrapping her arm around you as the two of you walked out the back door.

Still stunned from the whole encounter, Carmy walked into the office to hopefully clear his head. He sat in there for thirty minutes, continuously replaying his conversation with you in his head. He knew you were mad, but he wasn’t sure why. He was also thrown off by why it seemed like you were encouraging him to go on a date with the other woman.

After wracking his brain for answers, he still had nothing, so he headed towards the back alleyway to smoke a cigarette. He found Richie doing the same thing.

“You okay, cousin?” Richie asked, clearly being able to see how on edge Carmy looked. “Fuck no,” Carmy mumbled.

“Is this about your girl?” Richie asked, having already gotten a text from Sydney that explained what happened. “She’s not my girl, Richie, but I think we’re in a fight, and we’ve never been in a fight before. I just don’t know why she’s mad.” Carmy explained.

“You don’t know why she’s mad?” Richie asked in shock. Carmy looked at him with a confused look and shook his head.

“You two have been flirting and hanging out more and more. Then, you tell her that you maybe want to go on a date with this other girl. You don’t think she’d be hurt by that?” Richie asked him. Carmy didn’t understand why everybody was suddenly an expert on his relationship today and why he was so out of the loop.

“What do you mean, we are just friends.” Carmy argued, not being able to admit anything to the contrary, “wait, how do you know about our conversation?”

“Sydney told me. She’s busy trying to cheer Y/N up because she’s pissed at you.” Richie said, quickly brushing past it, “how does the idea of her going on a date with someone else make you feel, cousin? Like when you watch those customers that stare at her,” he asked.

Carmy hesitated. He knew the answer. “I fuckin’ hate it, but I’m just being protective. We’re friends, and I care about her.” Carmy replied, still in denial.

“Cousin, do you really think colleagues go out for drinks after work and get coffee together before work as often as you guys do? You know all her favorite movies, and her favorite flowers, and the words to all her favorite songs. And that big dinner you made for her birthday,” he told Carmy. Hearing all of it like that made Carmy realize how special your relationship was, but he was having trouble admitting it out loud.

“I’m a chef. I make food for people. It’s what I do.” Carmy argued, not even believing his own excuse.

“Yeah, because it’s like your fuckin’ love language, dickhead. How did you not see this?” Richie asked.

Carmy didn’t know what to think. “So are we like together?” He asked, stunned. Richie shook his finger at Carmy.

“Not until you finally grow a pair and actually make a real move. Ask her out to dinner, tell her how you feel, give her some grand gesture.” Richie told him.

Carmy stood still for a moment, processing what he had just heard.

“Where are her and Syd right now? I need a ride.” He told Richie, desperately. Richie quickly grabbed his car keys, and they both headed out the door.

“I know we’re not dating, but I just don’t understand why he didn’t say he wasn’t interested. Like, surely I can’t be imagining all of the flirting and how sweet he’s been.” You rambled to Sydney, taking another sip of your drink. Sydney nodded along.

“Maybe he felt like he was put on the spot because I’ve seen how he looks at you. He really cares about you but just has a shit way of showing it.” Sydney mentioned.

You looked down at the bar, slowly stirring your drink around. The front door of the bar quickly opened, slamming against the wall. Both yours and Sydney’s gaze went right to the loud noise.

You both saw Carmy burst into the restaurant. His eyes searched around until they landed on yours. He rushed towards the end of the bar where you and Sydney were sitting.

He stopped in front of you and caught his breath for a minute. “I am so fucking sorry. You are my everything, and I really fucked it up. And I don’t even know what I was saying.” He started to ramble.

You were shocked to say the least. “Carmy, you wanna go talk outside?” You suggested, assuming some privacy for this conversation was probably a good idea. He quickly nodded and held out his hand to help you down from your seat.

Sydney gave you a reassuring smile, and then you felt Carmy’s hand on the small of your back as he followed you outside. Now that he had a better grasp on your relationship, he felt much more confident, which made him more affectionate. And you loved it.

He rushed in front of you, so he could hold the front door open for you. You both saw Richie waiting outside. “Syd’s inside. Can you give us a minute, cousin?” Carmy asked him. Richie quickly nodded and headed inside to freak out with Sydney that they were so close to getting you two together.

“I didn’t mean any of that earlier. I was just confused, and it felt like you wanted me to ask that girl out. So, I was questioning if you felt the same way I feel about you.” He apologized. He had to stop himself from grabbing your hands. He wanted to, but he wanted to apologize first.

“Enough of what I want. Tell me before I waste anymore of my time. Carmen Berzatto, what do you want? Do you want to be with me?” You asked him. You felt like you were being harsh, but you wanted everything to be out in the open.

“I want to be with you so fuckin’ bad.” He said. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. He used his other hand to cup your cheek and close the distance with a kiss.

Richie and Sydney saw the kiss through the window and had to stop themselves from cheering.

You stumbled forward a little since Carmy had pulled you towards him so quickly. He tightened his grip around your waist, while smirking into the kiss. You let your hands rest on his forearms, feeling his biceps flex under your fingertips.

The kiss was rushed, fueled by months of pent up feelings and the fear of losing each other that you both had experienced. Neither of you wanted to let the other go.

His lips tasted like spearmint as they moved effortlessly against yours. There was a loud clap of thunder above you both, and the sky opened up as it started pouring.

You both pulled out of the kiss in shock at the freezing rain that was hitting your skin. You both just grinned at each other, knowing how picture-perfect this moment was.

“You wanna go inside?” He almost had to yell for you to hear him over the rain. You just shook your head. You wanted to enjoy every single second.

He grabbed your hand and spun you around in a circle, watching as the rain droplets flew off the ends of your hair.

You were smiling and giggling. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him back into a kiss. “You are perfect,” he mumbled as he kissed you.

He finally pulled out of the kiss when he noticed you shivering. “This is magical, but I’m not gonna let you get sick.” He said, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you back inside where you were met by the smiling faces of Richie and Sydney. They both immediately pulled you into a hug.

“You know how hard we had to work for this to happen because you both wanted to be in denial for months that you’re head over heels for each other.” Sydney teased you both. You just smiled at Carmy, and all you could think about was how the rest of your coworkers were going to freak out when they heard.

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[gothicfied]

a fic where Dae-Ho (or anyone) comforts a reader to bed because she/he is haunted by seeing people getting shot, blood and etc. Pretty please?🥺 He also is on watch during lights out and comforts them again while noticing them having reoccurring nightmares and mumbling in their sleep. You could also turn this the other way around because my boy Dae-Ho needs some comfort too! 😖

love your fics and past work btw!! ^^

Sleepless Nights - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After past trauma from being a marine, Dae-ho isn't handling the circumstances of the games well. Thankfully, you're there when he needed you the most.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots, PTSD (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's fluff/comfort, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 812 Words

A/N: hii and thank you sm! I loved this idea actually🙏🙏

Your eyes hurt from staying up so long, counting down the seconds until it was Dae-ho's turn to be on watch. The night was grueling and long — all you could do was stare ahead and think about all the past decisions that led you here. I shouldn't have done this, I could've done that.. you were just breaking your mind like that. After you almost nodded to sleep *again*, you decided this was the best time to wake your friend up and get some well deserved rest.

Quietly, you shuffled to the mattresses Gi-hun had your group set up, searching for Dae-ho in the dark. When you spotted his jacket from behind, the number '388' still readable with little to no light, you went to tap him on the shoulder. That was before you noticed him jolting and breathing quite heavily in his sleep, his face contorted with something like fear. Oh, he was having a nightmare. What are you supposed to do now? Wake him up to free him from his dream? Or should you just leave him be? Would that be bad?

While you were slightly panicking, Dae-ho woke up himself from feeling someone looming over him. His eyes immediately darted to you and he quickly sat up, like he was ready to fight you. "Hey.. hey, it's okay! It's me." you whispered, backing up a bit to give him some space. Dae-ho blinked a couple of times, his mind still reeling with the thoughts of his nightmare. The one that was reoccurring ever since he got here. The man took a deep breath and dropped his head down for a moment, just staring at his lap. "Are.. you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Dae-ho simply nodded and smiled, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, don't worry about me. This happens.. all the time." The shakiness of his voice suggested otherwise. "Is it my time to be on watch?" With a confused, and slightly concerned, look you slowly nodded shifting a bit. Dae-ho slowly stood up, as not to disturb Jun-hee who was sleeping right beside him, and took another deep breath. "Are you actually okay? You seem really shaken up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Dae-ho smiled again, this time genuinely, silently appreciating your concern. "No.. no, I don't want to bother you. You need to sleep, come on." He pointed down at the mattress, signaling for you to just lay down and let him handle his own business. That's how he always did it anyway, he didn't like to feel like his problems were burdening others, especially in here. "No, don't be ridiculous. I'll sit down with you for a second." So, you just took Dae-ho's hand and led him to the designated spot a bit further away from your sleeping space. The blue 'O' and the red 'X' on the floor illuminated the whole area, the light of both reflecting on his face.

"I've had this nightmare since I got here." Dae-ho started the conversation again, his eyes glued to the big metal door, where the pink guards would always emerge from. "This whole thing.. people getting shot, people dying all because they're in debt," his voice was barely above a whisper, "it's so messed up. I'm a marine.. I should be- Oh, I don't know. It reminds me of all the things I had to facd while serving this country." You nodded along, letting out a 'mhm' to show him you were listening. You didn't really think about it that way at all — Of course this would affect him so much, he probably had PTSD.

"I can't say that I know what that feels like, but I definitely understand." you whispered back, slowly turning your head to look at him. You felt really bad, but you also didn't know how to better the situation. All you could do is wish that this nightmare would soon end with everyone finally coming to their senses and voting 'X'. Dae-ho scrunched his nose, now burying his face in his hands. You couldn't tell if he was crying or was still shaken up, but you put your arm around him nonetheless. Like he always did with you when you were scared or stressed.

Feeling your arm around him, Dae-ho took this as an invitation and immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here with me." he mumbled into your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Your expression softened, hugging him back after a few moments. His skin felt hot against yours and it kind of felt like he was suffocating you with his arms, but you couldn't be happier when Dae-ho expressed his gratitude.

"Of course. I'll stay up with you for a little bit longer, okay?"

[whambambatfam]

Webs of a Wing

Chapter 2

I wanted to post once a month and had this chapter ready to go when I posted the first. Then I suddenly decided to add a bunch more a few days along and almost didn't post on time... It's 12:10 but, close enough. Also, I fought for my life trying to figure out how to tag people for some reason..

Anyway! Founding your family time with the slay girls. My knowledge in the MCU is as vast as in DCU so, quite small.

I hope you like it!

Reader ages 10 - 12

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It starts to feel less disappointing to see that they never show up. Of course, Alfred always tries to make the time; he's your number one support.

You didn't ask for everyone's attention, you didn't want it, only theirs. Not looked up to on a pedestal, watched over from afar, like A doll on the shelf. All you asked for is a connection, real and human.

Yet, you could never achieve it, so you stopped trying. You stopped reaching out to hands that were never extended to you. If you're not wanted, then you won't bother. You won't waste your time. You had Alfred when you could, another observer in their lives. In this, you find your own kind of family, away from the manor, forming connections and bonds that follow you through your school years. One girl in particular was a catalyst for accepting others into your life.

“Hey! Can you give your opinion on the after-school club uniforms?” You're halted in the halls by a redhead gripping your shoulders.

You blink at her owlishly, “Uh, wha-?”

Noting your confusion, she introduces herself, “Ah, name’s Mary, Mary Jane Watson. You can call me MJ.” Her arm slips around your shoulder as she guides you along.

“Um, hi, Mj.” You relax ever so slightly when you give her your first name and she doesn't immediately pounce on you for a surname.

Wiping out a notepad, she finally explains, “So, I write the school paper’s fashion articles and I've noticed you join, like, a lot.”

“Oh. Yeah..” Tilting your head at her, you’re still very lost as to why you were the one singled out.

But she just smiles, “Come with me. I need to know about everything they make you wear.” She says as if she plans to drag you away.

She wanted you to show her every blazer, letterman, vest, and so forth. Not ready to bring a stranger to the mansion she compromises. Choosing to meet after your clubs. It's nice to have someone waiting for you, other than Alfred. You don't wish to be her model, to her disappointment. Instead, opting to go behind the camera. Mj squeals in delight as you give her free range on the available gear. Styling and posing a hundred times for each uniform.

You've come to know her as a kind-hearted, fairly popular, carefree girl. One who often weaponized these traits to her advantage, especially when it comes to getting a good story. After her article on club fashion is released, a big hit around school, she doesn't let you go. Insisting she needs someone to help her with photos for her real passion, modeling. That's how you found yourself snapping shots of MJ throughout the school day and between clubs. You would feel like a creeper if it wasn't for the fact that she practically demands it.

On occasion, this has left you at odds with those who thought themselves better company for your friend to keep. She wouldn’t put up with such nonsense, not that you minded it all that much. You didn't have anyone, throwing themselves at your feet, over the wealth and fame over a name. One you didn't even feel the right to associate yourself with. Instead, you were just another middle schooler who was strangely acquainted with someone who others saw as highly desirable

It cemented your friend when she asked you to pick her up for a weekend shoot on a small bridge at the park. The modest one-floor house was surrounded by an unkempt yard and a rusted link chain fence. A rather loud argument pictures the walls as you watch every bit of movement you can see behind the crumpled curtains. Your fingers are anxiously twisting the strap slung over your shoulder, bag packed generously by Alfred with two lunches. Finally, hurling one last shout over her shoulder, Mj emerged. Her arm links with yours and before you can speak she’s all but dragging you down the street.

She didn't say anything until you two were in the middle of setting up your first shot. stumbling over her words, she tries to tell you that what you heard wasn’t really that bad, that her dad just had a few drinks, that really they weren’t even yelling, and actually it wasn’t something to worry about if you are worried. There was an abnormal casualty of which she spouts anything to pacify whatever she thinks your reaction will be. Only the deep sorrow in her eyes told you the truth of the pain and strife she was pushing down.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You peer from behind the camera,

“Can I just.. complain about it?”

An appreciative smile pulls at her lips as you continue to capture her image. You didn’t expect an explanation, didn’t need one. She stopped trying to reason. Instead, she spoke, and you listened. Then, everything came almost at once, from her sister leaving to her father drinking and even her mother's illness. For a moment, you wonder if your father could do anything for her. You just as quickly push the naive thought away, why would such a man do something like that for a friend of yours?

Her lips curl into a satisfied smile as she clicks through the camera. “You know, you have a knack for catching my good side.” She tucks it away before tossing you a juice box from the bag.

“All your sides are good sides.” You hum, poking your straw through it.

This earns you an unstifled giggle, “Good answer, tiger.” Mj winks at you before tucking the camera back into its carry case, “Seriously, you've mastered the cam. Not that I want to lose my personal photographer, but have you considered joining the paper?”

You suck the last of the juice from the box with a raised brow, “I dunno, ‘might have to drop a few other things..” Swishing the contents as if contemplating. Really thought, it was an easy answer and you already decided to drop most of the clubs you only joined to fill time. Not to mention you were already familiar with helping and it was fun to work with your friend.

“Come on, me and you, together. I’ll do the writing and posing for pictures while you do the editing and taking pictures.” She clutches your hands in hers, fingers intertwined, “We’ll literally be the hottest journalist team.” Her emerald eyes are wide and pleading as she gazes up at you.

“Don't let her trick you into doing her work for her.” The scoff of another girl comes from behind you.

You recognized her as Gwen Stacy, another girl from your grade. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder as she makes her way onto the small bridge. The two of you had been using the foliage-obscured spot for your photo shoot. Coming to stand before them, blue eyes scanning Mj up and down. Mary Jane crosses her arms giving the scrutinizing look back.

She scoffs at the blond, “How do you know they don't want to?”

Gwen raises a brow at her, “Who would?” She offers back with a scoff of her own.

You jump in before proverbial knives can meet throats. “Actually, I like taking pictures for MJ.”

Gwen cocks her head at you, “Then join the photography club.”

Mj huffs, “Not if you want to actually, ya know, do something with your life.”

You step in again as the two wind up to take more jabs at each other. “Hey, um, ‘think I'll stick to what I've got..” Lifting the camera to Gwen she furrows her brows looking closer at your picture, “I've never even owned a camera before, but I'm having fun with Mj and I think doing the paper could be nice.”

She slips the device from your grasp, clicking through each picture. “You're actually really good..” Peeking up at you, she smiles sheepishly, “Can you take pictures of me too?”

While the two have their differences every now and then, you were always together. You left most of your clubs, having only picked them up for that void made by your family. Now you have people to fill the holes that they left behind.

While you'd never met, you’re familiar with the GCPD Captain, through your family's close ties with the commissioner. Who would have guessed that you would find yourself in his living room as Gwen dragged you along? Shaking his head with amusement as he watches he shut the two of you away in her room. Gwen had offered a hangout to help you with your scheduling if you helped her with her own. It was interesting to see all the things she was balancing. A focus in stem with an emphasis in chemistry but, with a blossoming interest in modeling.

Something she admits sheepishly, revealing the offer to do a small shoot she's been recruited for, “I sent in a headshot you did, and well I didn’t think I'd actually get it. Who knows..” She shrugged nonchalantly despite the turbulence on her face, “Maybe it'll help me with college too.” Legs stretching out across her bed, she nudges your shared piles of junk aside, her feet resting at your side.

You mirror her positing from the opposite end of her bed, “Collage? already?? I don't think we have to take it so seriously yet.” Collecting the pile of disheveled papers in your hands, you shuffle them off to the side to be put away later. “Not that getting in would be hard for you. I guess you already know what you want to be but, it's okay to have other interests.”

Smiling at her with reassurance infects her with a pull at her own, “I have a pretty good idea, yeah, and that's what I'm gonna shape myself into. Starting now.” Cerulean eyes scan over your current disastrous schedule of overbooking and under-appreciation, “Stretching yourself so thin isn’t going to make you.. well, whatever you’re trying to become.”

“I just want to be somebody.” It’s your turn to poorly shrug your worries off as if they never really sat all that heavily, to begin with.

“You of all people wanna be famous?” Gwen misinterprets, raising a golden brow at you.

Your face scrunches at the mere suggestion, “God no!” Busying yourself with sifting out your less favorable activities. Handing over everything you planned to keep up with, to the bewildered yet, inturged blond across from you.

Martial arts, Gymnastics, journalism, photography, coding, knitting, and you're still handing her more.. Looking them all over, she shakes her head with a chuckle, “You know what they say. Jack of all trades, they’re master of none.”

A hand slips over your head, rubbing at the back of your neck, “I just wanna be.. Worthwhile, I guess? I’ve just never felt like I was enough.” She set you with a concerned look that paints heat over the tops of your ears, “But I actually like these!”

She shuffles through your handful of flyers, sign-ups, papers, and the like for each, “Well, there’s more to that saying about a jack of all trades, right?” Scooting over to sit beside you, she bumps your shoulder with a soft smile. “They’re often better than a master of one.”

“Thanks.. I think?” Laughing, you bump her shoulder back. You get the sentiment at least, you think..

“Still might be good to cut some of these out. Don’t push yourself so hard.” Lifting flyers for both photography and the school paper, “I thought you were gonna pick one?”

Days spent without Alfred or the girls were the hardest. Roaming long halls, hearing your father and brother, who've been arguing more and more. Robin's role in leading his own team had left the house feeling emptier than usual. Hardly ever crossing paths with one another. Lately, it's even been putting a strain on the dynamic duo's relationship. You wonder if they noticed when you stopped reaching out. Not likely when they are falling apart themselves. Your little band of miscreants always softened the blow of coming home to the lonely Manor, you'd always see them tomorrow...

You spot your blond just outside the lunchroom doors. Nose stuck in her book before you settle in next to her, “Where's MJ?” You ask, pulling your bag from your shoulder.

“Ugh, late as always.” Snapping her book shut, she sighs, leaning into your side. “Are we supposed to hold up everything for her all the time?”

The two of you sit chatting as children flood to and from the cafeteria. You talk long enough for Gwen to get over Mj being late again, just in time for her to show.

“Heyyyy! Sorry, sorry!” The redhead plops between them and hooks an arm over each of her friends' shoulders. She pokes Gwen's puffed cheeks as she huffs, “Oh, don't look so grumpy!”

“We've got to wait for you, like, every day!”

Mary Jane shrugs, “So?”

You roll your eyes, “So, can't you ever get here on time?”

“It's called fashionably late for a reason.” Gwen gives you a look that you return, and the two of you walk away. Mj gasps, hurrying to catch up, “Wait!!”

They may be a bit dysfunctional but they were yours. Before you know it, they're closer to your heart than your so-called family. Alfred even tells you he's delighted to see you making these connections. Happy to host you and your friends when you finally decide to bring them around. Your little room on the far end of the manor is cleaned from top to bottom. An array of treats is accompanied by frequent check-ins, which led to many, many questions each time around.

“You've really had to spend so much time alone here?” Gwen makes herself comfortable in your desk chair.

“Oh, well, I have Alfred.” You scoot back on your bed, back pressed against the headboard. With a sigh your head bumps the wall, “... most of the time anyway.”

“This place is crazy..” MJ pulls open your closet, fuming and ready to tear apart your meager wardrobe. “I can't believe you're actually a Wayne. Your dad is Bruce freaking Wayne, why is he the worst?”

Grimacing as her chair spins slowly the blond grumbles, “Not that surprising from some fancy stuck-up rich boy.”

Green eyes flicker through each quick swish of a hanger, “Why doesn't everyone know? Don't people like that usually have a big announcement or whatever?” Mj turns those critical emeralds to you.

Slouching into yourself to escape the gaze, “I did not want that.”

Unimpressed with the answer, she huffs, “Still there have to be people who know about you, right? Your family is, like, super famous.”

“Wait!” Gwen perks up, feet hitting the ground to halt her cycle, “I think I have heard people talk about you.”

Heat claws its way up the back of your neck, catching onto your ears. “Wh- huh? Really??”

“Yeah, they call you- uh..” Her sudden realization seems to die in her throat, “Well, they call you, um..” Gwen combs a hand through her hair, aquamarines darting away from you, “Wayne unwanted... cause the Wayne's have never acknowledged you publicly.”

Mary Jane scoffs, “Or personally, apparently.”

You've only lived through this your whole life yet hear that you're known for your misfortune, to be watched but never seen...

The two of them were across the room before you even realized you were crying. They cuddled up on either side of you, squeezing you between them as they apologized. “No, no, it's okay..” You giggle through the sting in your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

Gwen gives you an almost offended look. “It is not okay.”

“You deserve so much better!” Mj tights her grip until you're begging for air.

They didn't make you feel othered like your family name or the intimidating manor. You knew they saw you, not a name, statue, money, power. Just you.

“Hey, would you..” Swallowing the nerves catching in your throat, you slide the paper across your lunch table. “Would you guys like to come to my competition?”

Mj snatches the paper up from the table, “Of course!”

The other scans the sheet with intrigue, “We'll be there, promise.” Gwen takes the paper from the redhead's hands, smoothing out her crinkles.

It always felt better to have someone there to root for you. Tonight, Alfred would be busy handling things for Bruce's ‘business trip’. Not that it matters because now, you have friends.

After the winners are called and you can part, Mary Jane is the first at your side. “You were great!”

“Really? Thanks..” Your face burns. You always felt Alfred was just being biased in his praises.

She swoops you up into a hug, “Absolutely, way to go, tiger!” Yet, it feels more real coming from your friends.

“Though, I don't really get it.” Gwen muses from the side, “You're such a wallflower. You hate the spotlight.”

The warmth in your cheeks raises again, “Yeah, well, so?”

Gwen's lips quirked into a frown, “So, why do these?”

“Seriously, like, no one's making you..” Mj raises a brow at you, “right?”

“No, I just.. I wish someone would come.” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “Just one of them. Even once.” No matter how they push you away, there's always that part of you that still wants them to come around.

An arm is thrown over your shoulder, “Well, you're great so, so... Fuck those guys!” The curse slips from Gwen in a half whisper of juvenile rebellion.

Another arm joins the first around your shoulders, “Exactly, Fuck them!” Mj giggles, grading on the use of profanity.

“Heh, yeah.. Fuck ‘em.” You smile despite the way your ears burn in superfluous fear of being scolded by Alfred for your language.

Nights were more exciting with your newfound love of photography. You collected pictures of the best and worst of Gotham. From sparkling main streets to eerily dark alleyways. Especially the growing stock of your star muses, Batman and Robin. You started putting together profiles from them, juxtaposing their day and night personas. Filing in the scraps of knowledge you've gathered from chasing after them. You kept the folders stuffed in your closet; embarrassed by your almost obsessive habit over people who disregard your existence.

Despite how he may treat you, when Dick came home with a bullet in his shoulder from the Joker, you cried. It felt silly when you realized they were falling. What was there to mourn if.. Alfred had been teaching you to take care of bigger wounds. You pleaded to assist his tending of your brother. Promising to feign cluelessness on your knowledge of the.. happenstance.

It wasn't until after his wound was cleared of debris and disinfected, that he noticed you. Trembling little fingers press the gause to his broad shoulder as Alfred prepares the bandage. His hand comes up to rest over yours, steadying it. Head snapping up to meet his gaze, there's something lurking in those sapphires of his.

A smile cracks its way deliberately across his weary face. It's too endearing of a look for him to give you. This was the first time it felt so sincere. The warmth of it burned at your frayed nerves. Sparked at cool embers of hope that he'd come around to you. Only when he's nearly died. It couldn't be real, but it hurt too much to be a dream.

“Thanks, Birdie. You didn't have to.” Dick's praise burns at your ears. It must be blood loss, a near-death experience, or something.

It feels too unnatural. You mumble out quietly, “Of course I did.”

Alfred relieves you of the tension, wrapping the bandage around and across. You’re left to stand off to the side before eventually being shuffled out of the room. The weight of his gaze is unrelenting until you finally step out of the room. You immediately miss it, realizing you've let such a rare moment of connection slip away. The sudden tender moment only made it harder to hear he'd left shortly after. He moved two states away to New York, leaving Robin behind for good.

He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye.

───── ⋆⋅ 🕸 ⋅⋆ ─────

Tag List?!

@butratherbutrather @dorkatron-2000 @mys0cksrwet @nervousalpacalady @notsamaira @facelessisnthere @danir2006 @ryuushou @sirenetheblogger @l3v1us

[chrollohearttags]

makeup artist!armin…that is all 🫠

📝: black fem hairstylist!reader, friends to lovers, fluff to smut, praise, he’s also bi, alcohol use, switch!armin, choking, finger sucking, oral (a eating) missionary, cumshot, calls reader babe and my love

🎙️: I’m trying out something a lil’ different and trying to actually make my drabbles short so I hope y’all like it. Also I know like 3 of you might actually see this tonight but posting anyways bc I’m bored

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

you never thought you’d see makeup artist!armin ever again..in the flesh at least. It’d been three years since you, him and twenty other attendees of one of the country’s most elite cosmetology schools had graduated as licensed beauticians. A majority of you had gone on to do extraordinary things with your newfound certifications…some working for prestigious salons, others starting their own businesses and continuing ones they were running illegally. But you and Armin? Leagues all on your own! Of course, the same could have been said when you were in school together. Seemingly attached at the hip and matching in both skills and wit. makeup artist!armin was naturally the talk among the class. The only male in a room full of gorgeous girls…chatting and keeping up with the conversations as if he were one of you. Offering advice on boyfriends and husbands, reciting the lyrics to every female rap song that played from the salon floor’s speakers as you all practiced balayage and full sets whilst the instructor watched. makeup artist!armin was a natural..able to analyze a face and turn anyone into the most beautiful version of themselves. Of course, it left much speculation on his orientation but when the question arose, his response was: “I like what I like, that’s all.”

with his fluffy blonde locks, warm blue eyes, scattered tattoos, including the pieces on his neck and hands…fingernails always donned with nail polish and sporting jewelry of some form, he was a dream. But it was him who was enamored with (y/n)..his girl to anyone who asked. Something you always figured to be a lighthearted inside joke, considering the number of empty, flirtatious passes you made at one another. Pretending to kiss, even allowing him to grasp your throat in the process because he’d only follow it up with some effeminate remark before you both broke into a laugh. “Armin moveee, you play too much.” “Babeee, c’mere. You didn’t have a problem last night. Why are you being mean to me?” But makeup artist!armin wasn’t interested in playing games anymore..especially when he saw you all over Instagram, going viral for your amazing work. Laying wigs, coloring, finger waves, silk presses..the works. You were the best of the best and people were dying to get a seat in your chair. Including an influencer with tons of followers and the money to burn, looking to get done up by the city’s finest for a club appearance. What you didn’t expect was the person traipsing behind her to be makeup artist!armin..looking even better than he had before!

“It’s been a while, my love. How are you? I see you look sexy as always.”

Hugging instantly as the excitement over took the both of you. makeup artist!armin couldn’t keep his eyes off of you as you styled the influencer’s hair, watching you two laugh and chop it up..joining in on the fun occasionally. Turns out he had been working with some notorious clientele, using his talents to earn quite a pretty penny and make a name for himself in the beauty sector. But the real conversation wasn’t done until after hours…when he’d finish up with your guest and you were closing up shop. The two of you would down some of the leftover shots you had with the client as part of her pregame whilst he decided to give you a complementary beat for old times sake…

talking about life and what it had been like since you left the academy. Divulging in juicy gossip about friends and old peers alike, work and what it was like having your entire catalogue on display for social media. Of course, what makeup artist!armin and yourself truly wanted to know was if there was a special someone around..

“Me? Nah, me and my ex been done. I don’t have time for dating..the money is my only love nowadays.”

“I feel that. All I do is work and go home.”

but he was hoping to change that last sentiment. Dressed in his black button down and slit jeans with silver bands on his fingers..he’d turn your face towards him as the guise of brushing on your highlight

“Y’know I really missed this, (y/n). I’ve been watching you and I’m so proud of what you’ve done. You’ve worked hard.” “Thank you, Armin..you’re always so sweet.” “Well duh, I’ve already told you, you’re my girl..”

makeup artist!armin couldn’t hold back any longer…bridging the gap of space between you two as the bright lights hung overhead. He'd confess that he’d thought about you everyday and wished that the two of you had kept contact. It was as if all of the sexual tension and feelings that the two of you had been harboring were just seconds from spilling over. Which only in turn led to you moving to the back of your salon, lips crashing together and tongues shoved into each other’s mouth as he mounted you onto a nearby countertop. Completely forgetting his masterpiece he’d painted on your face.

“Arminnn..”

“Shhh..it’s okay, babe. I know..you don’t have to tell me. I know you better than anyone.”

a statement that rang true when he’d pull you into a kiss yet again and clutch your throat as he’d done in a joking manner many times before. A movement they elicited a smile from you both.

“You still like that, huh? So nasty..”

“You said it..you know me better than anyone, baby.”

from your lips to your neck, he’d mark you with pecks, licking and nibbling at your ear as he whispered lecherous things; from how good you looked in the bodycon dress you were wearing to how he needed to hold it up while pounding you from the back..

“Mmmm..see, there you go playing wit’ me.”

“Spread your legs for me, baby and you’ll see how much I’m joking..”

leaving you with a heavy pat to the ass as he scooped you into his grasp and parted your thick thighs. Obviously much more fit than he was when you’d last saw him. makeup artist!armin tugged down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts as he planted a hand into your tummy..peeling your panties back with his teeth before diving into that dripping center. Wasting no time in lapping on your clit, gliding a finger or two in and sucking on your folds as if it were his first meal in months. He certainly was no stranger to eating pussy..regardless of everyone’s opinions on his sexuality!

“F-fuckkkk..Arminnn..” Pushing his head and shoulders back whilst still grinding on his mouth.

“I’m sorry, babe. What is it that you want? Because you’re realllly confusing me..do you want me to stop..or should I keep eating this little pussy until you come all over my face?” Laughing as he spat into your entrance and continued lapping. (Y/N)’s legs began to quiver, breath shallow and chest heaving as your eyes rolled back..you’d never felt anything remotely euphoric as this. He knew each of your spots, what made you tick and how to pleasure you. He navigated your body as well as an eyeshadow palette and like always, he wasn’t done until he was satisfied..

“Awww, babyy—don’t cry. I know it feels good but you’re gonna ruin your pretty makeup. Here..suck on my fingers.” That soft yet dominant taking over as he shoved two digits in your mouth. What followed was a trail of saliva and his tongue breaching your puckering lower entrance. Which nearly caused you to shoot through the roof.

“Look at that..now I’m in all your pretty holes, babe..I’ve waited so long to do this. Fuck..you taste amazing.”

you’d whimper and writhe around, grasping at the marble counters as that orgasm neared..he’d push those fingers in and out until splatters of warm juices hit his chin. “Sorry, my love..I hate to stop you but—” unbeknownst, he had been stroking himself through his boxers and was ready to let you get the real thing.

“If you want to come anymore, it’ll be on this dick. I really need to fuck you.” His voice was much deeper than before and you didn’t hesitate to let him inside. Pinning your legs back to the vanity, makeup artist!armin tapped that head and shaft against your folds before gently gliding in, keeping your eyes fixated on each other with his hand still around your neck. That fat cock splitting open your wet folds.

“Shit…your pussy’s so warm, babe. God, why’d you keep this from me?” But you were too in awe to answer..completely stuck on how big he was and how well he wielded it. Slowly stroking and rubbing your clit with the opposite hand. You were fixated on his gaze and sweet words, listening to him to praise you whilst he resided balls deep inside of you.

“Oh my gosh….’s so fucking big. Fucking me so good..” whimpering and barely able to fork coherent sentences. makeup artist!armin would chuckle softly as he watched it slide in and out, the bulge appearing when he sped up. “Damn, babe. I love this look on you…but I love even more how I look inside of you.” Pounding you into the vanity with his lips melded to yours.

“Ahhhh…yes, baby! Right there..’m gonna come.”

“I told you, if you want to, it’s gotta be on me.” makeup artist!armin would continue thrusting until he drew more splashes out of that cunt, making you squirt all over his torso and the countertop. It wasn’t long until he too was reaching his own climatic peak, burrowed over you with his face buried into the crook of your neck as he called out your name..whining about how badly he missed you.

“Oh God I missed you..I missed you so bad. Can I come for you, my love? Please? I’ve been so good..I waited all this time just for you..”

and it was no question that you’d welcome it..waiting patiently as he pulled out of you reluctantly. He’d spray those thick ropes of cum all over your tummy and even catch your face..

makeup artist!armin reveled in his latest and most prized creation yet. Laughing as those fluffy lashes swatted off remnants of his seed..droplets staining the glossy nude lip he’d just finished.

“I need a kiss after that. C’mere..” “Yeah, I agree.”

makeup artist!armin had long since dreamed of what he’d say and do once you guys reconnected. He was nervous, afraid that you’d reject his feelings but it was no longer a secret. That mounting love that had been festering inside of you both had exploded into a blaze of passion that couldn’t be extinguished any time soon. And now that he was back in your life, you’d never be apart again.

[greg-montgomery]

I would love a fic about Reid’s friend coming to visit him at work and as soon as Hotch lays eyes on her it’s love at first sight. But she’s like really girlie and bubbly so the rest of the team is so confused as to why Hotch is so whipped for her :)

“She said that to you?”

“Yeah…I mean the audacity of some people,” you said shaking your head. “I’ve had enough of her. And I promise you, next time I’m telling our manager.” As if to prove the harshness of your words you dropped on his desk a stapler you had been playing with to occupy your hands.

Spencer smiled, entertained as always from your stories involving your least favorite coworker.

“Anyway, enough with her. We can go now, right?”

“Yeah, just let me get all my stuff.”

A deep voice coming from behind you right before you opened your mouth stopped you from complaining. “Reid, that last report needs-

The fact that you turned around to search for the owner of that voice seemed to stop him from speaking any further.

You blinked softly at him melting under the man’s gaze. He was tall, handsome, and looked like he could easily kill you: just your type.  

“Hotch?” you heard your friend’s voice.

That was Hotch?

“You’re Hotch?

“Yeah,” he breathed out a laugh. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” Spencer introduced you to him. “Sorry, she’s just picking me up.”

“That’s alright,” Hotch replied to him while still looking into your eyes. “So I take it you’ve heard about me.”

“Only the best,” you giggled.

“Yes, I’m sure Reid has never complained to you about paperwork or having to work on a weekend,” he rolled his eyes, not entirely convinced.

“I haven’t!” Spencer defended himself.

Hotch laughed and a beautiful smile stuck on his face. No way this was the same man Spencer had talked to you about that ‘never smiled’ and ‘never blinked’.

“Um…you wanted to tell me something about a report?” your friend awkwardly positioned himself next to you trying to get Hotch’s attention.

“Right,” he said. “It’s…it’s fine. It can wait until tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.”

--

“Do you see that?” Penelope whispered, grabbing Emily with one hand and JJ with the other.

“What is it?”

“Look,” she said pointing at you from afar.

“Who’s that?” Emily asked.

“And why is Hotch looking at her like he’s about to eat her?” JJ added.

“It’s Y/N, Reid’s best friend.”

“Oh…well good thing she’s not his girlfriend ‘cause…”

“Right?” Garcia said. “Oh my God, do you guys think they’re gonna fall in love? It would be so cute…they will start going on dates and we’re gonna get the weekends off!”

JJ tilted her head observing the pair of you. “You wouldn’t think that’s his type. She looks so…sunshine-y.”

“Well, I think that’s exactly what Hotch needs,” Emily said. “Some sunshine.”

--

“Why didn’t you tell me he was hot?” you asked when you were finally out of everyone’s sight.

“Who?”

“Hotch!”

“Ew…he’s like my dad!”

“To you!” you said opening your car door. “How am I supposed to drive now? My hands are shaking.”

“Because…of my boss?” Spencer asked, sounding confused.

You got into your seat and started giggling, covering your mouth with your hands. “Fuck,” you sighed moving your hands to cup your own cheeks feeling their heat. “This has never happened to me before. I think I just fell in love.”

Spencer gave you a side eye. “We’re still talking about Hotch, right?”

You bit your bottom lip and pulled a little card out of your pocket. “He gave me his number.”

“When did this even happen?”

“When you were putting your stuff in your bag.”

“So he likes you too?”

“I guess,” you smiled.

For a few moments the two of you stared at each other before bursting out in laughter.

“And I always thought Derek would be the one going after you.”

You let out a heavy sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl. “He’s really handsome, Spence.”

“He’s a good man too,” he said.

“So you approve?”

“I would never stand in the way between you and my father figure.”

“Shut up,” you laughed and started your car.

part 2

[dutiful-wildcraft]

This one is for all my retail pals

John Price has never worked retail in his life and it shows.

Price x reader, meetcute? if this qualifies

-

You're scrambling, have been since you walked through the door. They were already calling your name by the time you clicked your radio on.

From that moment forward you were hustling back and forth across the store, helping who you could, pulling orders for customer pick ups, trying to answer questions for the seasonal team members who got thrown to the wolves with slap dash training. 

You're tired, you're hungry, and you've been listening to the same 5 christmas songs on repeat since the 1st of November. 

You're trying to make it back to the break room for a quick snack, walking at mach speed, head lowered, praying that those you passed could see the sheer overwhelmed energy radiating off of you in waves and not ask you anything.

But there is always one.

“Excuse me!”

Your blood pressure shoots up immediately. 

You stop short, try to school your expression into something friendly. He's a big man, shoulders wide enough to fill a doorway, with mutton chops that strike you as odd, but suit his face. The man hustles toward you, holding an expensive jacket out to you like a toddler.

“Can you tell me the price of this?”

Everyone thinks you have a scanner.

The chops age him, but a closer look reveals that he must only be a little older than you, pretty blue eyes scrunched apologetically. You think this grown ass man should be old enough to see the scanners staged on every other aisle, the big signs attached to the ceiling highlighting their location. Irritation wells up like a geyser as you pull the garment from his hand searching for a tag. 

You search and search, even fishing around in the pocket to see if some kind soul accidentally yanked it off and put it back.

“Must be free!” Chops chuckles, and you think you should be able to pass out one free throat punch a day for simply working under these conditions. 

It takes effort, not to shrivel up like a raisin over the monotonous comment. Trying desperately to focus on finding the fucking price and ignore the way the big bastard bores holes into your face. He could have looked it up on his phone, you're certain, but instead he's standing a little too close, watching you flounder, at least his cologne is nice. 

A painful silence falls between you when you don't even giggle at his joke. But you must have a scrap of patience left in you because the angel of good will tugs on your ear, reminds you that not everyone stares at this shit day in and day out like you do, and he probably would have trouble finding it online anyway. 

You suck in a deep breath, fish out your own phone to pull up your company's website. 

“M'sorry for the trouble sweetheart” he murmurs, rolling almost sheepishly on his heels, hands reaching at his shoulders as if to grab something that isn't there, falling uselessly at his sides as he hovers over your shoulder. 

The pet name should piss you off, but the rumbly timber of it tickles you somewhere in your monkey brain, he is a handsome thing, and something about the way he crosses his arms, peers over your shoulder like this was a problem he's helping you solve is kind of endearing. 

You feel bad immediately for your bitchy attitude toward the fella. 

“Sorry It's taking a second, I'm trying” 

“I can see that, I appreciate you. I know you lot are busy, think I've seen you make a few laps now.” he teases, nodding to the bustle of people about the store, rummaging through once neatly folded tables like it's a yardsale. 

You type in the style number with a little amused huff. “You have no idea, I get in miles trotting around this place” you joke, scrolling through site’s workwear options to match the jacket in your hand. It's one of the nicer one's the store carries, a sturdy brown canvas with a fleece lined collar and interior. You try to make small talk that you're notoriously terrible at.

“You must work outside.” 

“Something like that” he muses, “been meaning to get the house prepped up for winter, I waited a bit late.”

You snort, “Hell me too, I barely have enough wood left for the stove myself, I'm just going to pile on blankets this winter!”

“Well that won't do.” 

The hard tone of Chop's voice breaks you from your searching. A quick glance confirms he's serious, brows pinched as his posture has shifted to looking directly at you. Chin tucked to his chest.

“What?” 

“You've got no one taking care of you?”

Nosy fuck. You don't know why you get defensive. “I take care of me just fine.” you retort confidently, finally pulling up the stupid jacket and telling him the price. 

“Negative.” is all he replies, looking at you with the same stern gaze. You suddenly feel like a child, wanting more than anything to prove to this man you were more than qualified to handle yourself. You work retail for fucks sake.

He cuts you off before you can smart off again. “You're going to write down that number for the coat, and your number, so I can bring a load of lumber by. I won't have a pretty thing like shiverin’ in the night.”

Something inside your brain purrs at the idea. The idea of somebody looking out for you when you barely have time to keep your clothes washed and body fed was…appealing. Especially coming from a pretty gorgeous stranger. And yet?

“I'm not giving my number to a stranger, sir.” you retort with some semblance of authority. 

Chops is having none of it, he makes a pointed show of raking his eyes down to your nametag dangling against your chest before flickering back up to your face. Your name rolls off his tongue easily, and you can't help the little shiver up your spine at the timber of it.

“John Price” he offers after, big paw curling around your own to shake playfully. “Not strangers now are we?”

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 2

Masterpost

Jason blinks and he is not where he used to be. He can already tell he’s shorter and skinnier, and he’s staring at physics homework so he’s probably younger too. It takes him a moment to run all the scenarios. He knows what is most likely, he knows that soulmates body swap at sixteen and... Well, he’s not sure if he was dead or not for his sixteenth birthday, but he had been living on the assumption that he had missed it, whenever it was. 

Now he thinks that he’s the older one in this relationship. If his soulmate just turned sixteen, he’s still a minor. Society gets a little more lax about these things when it comes to actual soulmate relationships, but Jason- despite the age difference only being around two years- is not lax about it at all. So if this is what he thinks it is, he is going to have to have a talk with his soulmate about being just friends for a while. 

Which should be fine, it’s not like they know each other at all yet. Getting to know each other should take a while anyways. Though, he could start that now.

He looked to the right and saw the door to the bedroom on the same wall as the desk he was sitting at, and the door to the closet on the next wall. The bed is against the wall behind the desk, sitting in between two windows. There’s a nightstand with a lamp on it next to the bed and a chest of drawers against the wall to his left that has a mirror hanging over it. There are space posters on the walls all around the room.

Jason gets up and walks over to the mirror. The boy in the mirror is short and skinny, just like he thought. He has blue eyes and black hair that flops over his face. Jason takes a second to wonder if the kid had plans for his birthday, realizing probably not. It’s tradition nowadays to spend your sixteenth birthday with just your family in case the switch is made. 

So, Jason's soulmate is what appears to be a normal, messy teenager. Posters, clothes on the floor, homework to do. Jason goes over to double check the homework, to see if he can find any that’s finished. There, his math assignment is already done, and it seems his soulmate’s name is Danny Fenton. He takes a closer look at all the school supplies and in his backpack and doesn’t find anything with the school name on it. 

Taking another look around the room, Jason doesn’t see a phone, and it wasn’t in the backpack. Jason tries not to feel weird as he pats around his soulmate’s pockets. He finds a phone, thinks for a second, then types in his own number and calls.

It rings for a second. Someone picks up, but all Jason can hear is shouting until he hears his own voice.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” 

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason heaves a long sigh. Danny chuckles.

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?”

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Jason laughs, he does not know how Danny made his voice sound like that, breathy and higher than his voice has been in years.

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

“I think so?” There’s a bit of a commotion. “Stop it, buzz off!”Is said away from the phone. “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny makes an I don’t know sort of hum. “Look, I do need to warn you… about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?”

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.”

“Kid, what?” Jason rubs his hand down his face.

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Jason feels like he can relate. There are a lot of things a soulmate should know that Jason doesn’t know if he’s ever going to tell Danny but if he did he would want it to be in-person. “Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” Again, Jason does not understand how Danny makes his voice sound so peppy. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and Jason hears a beep, before “You’re on speaker!” is called out.

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick sounds way too excited.

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

The room through the phone quiets down quickly except for Danny’s laughter.

“Oh, wow, same.”

“Danny! You know how we feel about the death jokes.” Jason hears as the door behind him opens. Talking starts up on the other end of the line, but he ignores it for the moment as a tall redhead walks in the room. She stops in front of him and raises her eyebrow.

“You must be Jazz.” Jason says. This gets a hush on the other end of the line. “I’m Jason.”

[phant0mth1ef]

more of bakugou x support course reader!

after you’d fixed his gauntlets, he realized just how much you’d improved them as he was training in class one day, noticing how they’re able to withstand his blasts as if nothing had happened, and noticing that you etched the word dynamight onto the rim of the silver at the bottom of the grenade shaped gauntlet.

he found himself in the support course work room once again, looking aroundbto see if he could find you to, well, somewhat thank you and ask if you had any other recommendations to add to his costume.

his shoes hit the floor as he was able to fully see the room during the day, watching as the students shuffled around and didn’t just casually cater to someone standing in their doorway, they were too engrossed in their own projects.

he grabbed one’s shoulder as they tried to speed by him, almost dropping the poor boy as his items fell on the floor.

“where’s extra #1?” he asked, his eyes squinting at the boy who just wanted to grab his things and go.

“who?” the boy squeaked.

“extra #1!” he whisper shouted as the confusion on the boy’s face never faltered.

“…”

“l/n.” he finally gave up, realizing the boy wasn’t gonna understand what he meant.

“oh! she’s currently over at mirko’s agency! she designs support gear for her y’know! she’s so talented.” the boy gushed as bakugou swore he saw a slight blush on his cheeks before pushing him forward and letting him go, walking out the door.

he normally wouldn’t do this. but oh man did he really need that support gear today! the boy was walking around town looking for the number 5 hero’s agency, even stopping some people on patrol to ask!

he was outside the doors, watching with anticipation as he looked inside, watching power loader scold you, a sheepish smile on your face.

bakugou opened the doors, a soft music playing in the background as he caught the end of your conversation with the teacher.

“and get your grades up or i’m taking your keys to the lab!”

you put a hand behind your neck as you looked towards who had just walked in the door, a look of confusion on your face as you spotted the blonde hero in training.

you had grease on your face and dirt covering your arms up to your elbows, and yet he didn’t find himself completely repulsed, just fascinated.

“bakugou? what’re you doing here?” you spoke, a large screw in your hand as you waved him over.

“i, uh, i need your help with something.”

you nodded.

“d’ya have anymore recommendations for me? like to add onto my hero outfit? i liked the way you messed with my gauntlets.

“you came all the way over here to ask me that?” your tone was questioning, and your face wasn’t having any of it.

“listen! i’ve got a mission soon and if you do have anything to add i want it on by then! got it, extra?!” he got defensive quick.

“are you forgetful or do you just like to piss me off?”

he was stubborn, you were stubborn.

the perfect match for one another!

“tch. y’know what i don’t even know why i bothered coming out here! clearly you’re just an egotistical asshole.” he turned around.

“fine! then go! i’m not exactly asking to design your support gear anyway! bitch.” you said with pride, although you whispered the last part.

as the door jingled, signaling his exit, you could hear footsteps approaching from behind you.

“well well well, seems like we’ve found someone with enough spunk to finally match yours!” mirko clapped, announcing that out loud to everyone who was sitting in the lobby.

“tch. he wishes.”

“i dunno, the way you were talking to each other, i’d say there’s some romantic tension there, aren’t i right akari?” she turned to her assistant who nodded.

the next day bakugou showed up to the lab, just sitting there waiting to be acknowledged, although you blatantly ignored him the whole time he was there, going on with your day while people from his class walked in and were instantly assisted, even deku.

he would sit there and wait. and that’s all he’d do. day after day for a whole week before you finally begun to notice him sitting there.

“alright i can’t focus with you huffing and puffing in the corner over there!” you dropped your tools, clanking against one another as they hit your workspace.

“i don’t want to help you. but you’ve got persistence. i’ll give you that.” you said as you grabbed some things from a drawer, shoving them into his chest.

“what’s this?”

“a mix of different things. smaller compact grenades that pack a bigger punch than your other ones, these are ear plugs that’ll allow you to hear without damaging your hearing further, this is a roll of tape. for you to shut up.” you gave a chesire grin at the last one.

surprisingly, he chuckled. he didn’t think he’d ever find someone who… “matched his freak,” as mina would describe it.

he also found himself liking the feeling of sitting there and watching you in your element, so much that he begun to come in after classes just to chat with you while you worked.

you weren’t as bad as he thought, he wasn’t as bad as you thought.

you could get used to this.

[schlattslonghairytoes]

can i come over?

when schlatt moves to texas an unexpected storm leaves him with no where to go, will you offer up a room to your friend?

streamer reader x streamer schlatt

you had lived in texas since you attended college at texas a and m

orginally you went to ithica college, but you transfered during your sophmore year

you now had your own apartment as you were out of college

you knew a couple of other content creators who lived in the area, but not many

your closest friend, ted nivison, lived in los angeles, but you went to visit him every now and again

your phone rang, "gangnum style" blasting in your ears and groaned, you reached for your phone, only to be met with a picture of you and theodore from college freshman year

"i need your help guppie." teds face filled the screen and his dopey smile made you laugh

"you woke me up mr grouper." your nicknames came from the first time you got high together and decided to watch bubble guppies

"wakey wakey! does this fit look ok?" he set the camera down and walked away from the camera, he did a little spin before grabbing his phone again

"yes you look very fashionable theo. can i go back to sleep now?" ne nodded but very quickly realized he had something else to tell you

"wait really quick, remember schlatt? you met him during the lunch club era" you scanned your sleepy memory trying to remember this guy you probably met once.

"um, tall right? good looking?" ted nodded and laughed, sitting down at his desk

"glad to hear thats what you remember. anyways, im pretty sure hes moving out to Austin in the coming months, so you guys should talk cause he only knows a handfull of people out there." ted said

"cool. can i please sleep now." your tired brain did not care for this random man barely remember.

"yes, reach out to him ok?" he smiled at the camera

"yes theodore kennedy nivison junior. love you. byeeeee" and with that you ended the call.

you didnt really think about teds call all that much, untill around 3 months later you recieved a text from an unknown number

even though schlatt then tried ghosting you, ted finally convinced him to man up and keep talking to one of the few people living where he was soon moving

over the span of a month you two had been constantly talking, to the point where you were starting to consider him as one of your closest friends

you would facetime atleast once a day, text everyday, and you even streamed twice together on your account

you were getting very excited to have a new friend so close by

then came the storm.

you lived alone with your dog, and you knew your house would not be ready for this shit.

you stalked up on food, blankets, flashlights

basically anything you could get your hands on

and you bunkered down at your house with your dog, getting ready to thug the next few days out

you were scrolling on your phone, on the first night of the storm, power already out, house fucking freezing, and you see schlatt had posted on his snap story

you open it to find a video of him yelling outside of a completely dark marriot

screaming about how thats where he is supposed to be staying

and you were getting very worried, like your new friend who youve never met in person, might deadass freeze to death.

so you did what any caring soul like yourself would do

you swipe up on his story with your address and a follow up message saying "pull up to mi casa papi 🍆 "

and hope he would hurry so you could go to bed

around twenty minutes later you layed cuddled with your dog bundled in over ten blankets

when felt your house fucking shake with how hard schlatt was banging on your door

you walked downstairs, and opened the door, to a giant, shivering, and covered in snow schlatt, who you immediatly wrapped in a hug and dragged upstairs

"c'mon lets get you nice and warm." you brought him to your room where you turned your bed into a nice warm spot for him "i have some clothes for you, they were my brothers so they should fit" you smiled up at him

he hadnt said much yet and you could see the stress seeping through his face, he dropped his stuff and kinda just hugged you.

"you ok?" you laugh as he pulls away from the hug. he smiles sadly before sitting down on your bed

"ive been better ill be honest" he laughed quietly.

"some first day here huh?" you pat him on the back, trying to comfort him.

"you could say that. holy shit i thought that was a stuffed animal" he says looking at your dog

"go change dumbass, bathrooms on the right" you watch as schlatt takes the clothes and walks to your bathroom, you think you even hearhim flick on the light switch.

"do you want a flashlight?" you yell out to him, to which you get a small "please" back in return, you laugh and leave a flashlight infront of the door

you get comfy in the small sofa in your room, as schlatt was not going to fit on it, and your other bedroom was turned into your office. but you didnt mind him taking the bed

he came out of the bathroom minutes later and quietly shut the door behind him when he turned around he was looking at you kinda funny

you began to ask what was wrong before he cut you off "absolutely not, im not kicking you off your bed, get up" he towered over you on the sofa

"schlatt shut the fuck up, your not fitting on this thing, i barely do."

"you have a king size bed, were sharing, me you and that oddly stuffed animal looking dog c'mon get a move on" he got into the bed and waited for you and your dof to follow him

you laughed and made your way over, your dog following closely behind. you flop down onto the bed and look at the man laying next to you

"crazy this is the first time we're meeting" he says getting comfy

you lay another blanket on the both of you as your dog jumps up on the bed and lays between the two of you "im glad ted introduced us" you take a moment to inspect him

you two had called on discord many times and FaceTimed, but nothing lived up to the real thing.

"im really happy he introduced us too."

guys i kinda hate how this turned out

sorry 😣 😥 😦 😧 😨 😪 😢 😞 😰 😿 🫤 ❤️‍🩹 ☹️ 😐

[starlightkun]

❥・word count: 17.2k ❥・warnings: cursing, suggestive but no smut (i think that tag is on all my sungchan fics at this point), also i do talk about biting him probably too much, there’s one scene where i have to refer to distance and i use miles im sorry it’s the filthy american in me (convert to km if you must but it’s really not that important) ❥・genre: meet-ugly (like a meet-cute but bad), strangers to lovers, fluff and more fluff good god, forced proximity trope (long car trip, friend group vacation in a cabin, etc.) ❥・author’s note: send help the sungchan brainrot is terminal

“I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

“Are you going to the cabin next week?” Karina asked you, refilling her drink as the two of you chatted in the kitchen of Donghyuck and Mark’s place. The former was throwing a “small get-together” tonight for his birthday, which was already shaping up to be more like the parties you’d attended in undergrad. He’d also invited a hopefully actually small number of your closer friends to spend two weeks in his family’s cabin starting the following Friday.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you nodded, opening the fridge to nose around in there for something to mix with your alcohol.

“Do you know who all he invited?”

“I think the usual, right?” You had secured some cranberry juice and seltzer, and brought them back out triumphantly. “Didn’t he text the details to everyone in a group chat? Check who’s in it.”

“Let me see…” She muttered, scrolling through her phone. “You, me, Hyuck, Mark, Ning, Jeno, Jaemin, Shotaro, Anton…”

“Unless it’s a mansion in the woods, it sounds like half of us will be sleeping on the floor,” you scoffed.

“There’s one person in here that I don’t have saved.” She frowned. “Do you?”

You looked at it on your own phone. “There’s two people I don’t have saved. One of them must be Anton, I just met him the other day when Taro brought him around to… whatever, I don’t even remember now.”

“I don’t have the 512 number.”

You saved the other unknown number as Anton. “I don’t have the 512 number either.”

Karina giggled. “Mysterious.”

“Probably another guy Hyuck and Mark met playing pickup.” You shrugged, following her back out to the living room. “I feel like that’s how they meet all their new friends these days.”

“Rina! Y/N!” Ningning suddenly appeared in front of the two of you, grabbing your other friend’s wrist. “Come dance with me!”

Karina looked over at you. “Y/N?”

“Just topped up.” You lifted your drink. “Maybe later. Have fun, guys.”

As they disappeared into the middle of the room, you drifted off to the side, finding a wall to lean against. You took slow sips of your drink, eyes passing over the crowd. You didn’t mind standing by yourself until either your friends were done dancing and found you again, or you spotted someone you’d rather talk to before then.

“Y/N!” Your voice was called from behind you, and you turned around to greet the birthday boy with a wide smile.

“Hyuck!” You went to hug him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!”

“Because you’ve been hiding in the kitchen,” he teased. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you out here.”

You rolled your eyes as you drew back from the hug. “Whatever, I’m here now. Are you having a good birthday?”

“Great!” He beamed. It was then that you noticed he had someone with him, a tall guy hovering awkwardly behind him. Donghyuck went to introduce him, “This is Sungchan, by the way. He also lives in the complex; Mark and I met him playing pickup.”

Of course.

“Sungchan, this is my friend Y/N,” Hyuck then gestured to you.

You nodded to him politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled back, a bright, heart-stopping smile. You held onto your drink a little tighter, with both hands.

“Hey! Renjun!” Donghyuck suddenly yelled out. “No killing people on the premises! Choke Jisung outside!”

He took off into the crowd, leaving you with his new friend.

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Jungchan, but I’ve got to find my friends.” You slipped away before he could say anything else.

Karina and Ningning were still dancing, and while you briefly debated joining them, you decided against it, heading back to your safe haven instead: the kitchen. It was blissfully empty when you got in there, and you started picking at the bowls of snacks mindlessly.

“That was incredible.” Someone snickered, startling you into dropping a chip onto the floor.

You picked it up, glowering at the newcomer as you went to go throw away the ruined chip into the garbage can. “What are you talking about, Anton?”

“His name is Sungchan, by the way.” He was still laughing, hopping up onto the counter by the bowls of snacks. “Not Jungchan. I happened to have been lucky enough to have overheard that.”

“Oops.” You said flatly, well aware that you didn’t sound very sorry.

“But I’m totally going to use that.”

“You know him from pickup basketball too, I presume?”

“Yup.” He tossed a cheeseball up and caught it in his mouth. “He’s not very good at shooting, but he’s tall, so he’s alright at guarding.”

“Good for him. Or not, I don’t know.”

“So let’s say, hypothetically, I was eavesdropping on the entire conversation—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Of course.” He grinned. “He said like two words to you, and they were barely even hello. Why did you run away like that?”

You sighed, topping off your drink again. After taking a sip, musing over how best to phrase it, you finally decided on, “I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

Anton cocked his head curiously at you. “Who hurt you?”

“Nobody, god.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic and for what?”

“Fun and profit, mostly.”

“You hurt Sungchan’s feelings,” Donghyuck declared, blotting out the sun above you.

You closed your book on your thumb to deal with this. You had been reclining on a chair at your apartment complex’s pool reading in peace when your friend appeared out of nowhere. Outside the pool fence you could see his roommate, and two more of your mutual friends, Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno had a basketball under his arm, which made sense, the courts were right next to the pool, they were probably already heading there when they saw you and decided to detour over here to… interrogate you? Harass you?

“Who? What? When?” You squinted up at Donghyuck in confusion.

“My friend. Last night.”

“The tall one? How? Because I didn’t want to talk about the weather or whatever with him?”

“Apologize,” he demanded, crossing his arms. “And get his name right this time. It’s Sungchan. Not Jungchan.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in your chair. “This is exactly what I was telling Anton last night, you know. I don’t trust people that are that hot because even if they don’t do anything to abuse their hotness directly, or on purpose, other people will just do things for them anyway.”

“He’s the nicest person I know. Hotness be damned. Apologize.”

“No.”

“Really? This is the moral hill that you’re willing to die on?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a true martyr, Y/N,” Hyuck said sarcastically. “The Second Coming herself.”

“The nicest person you know? Really?” You questioned doubtfully.

“Really. And you were mean to him,” Donghyuck confirmed.

“Including Shotaro?”

“Including Taro.”

“Mark?”

“Mark’s my best friend. Doesn’t mean he’s the nicest person I know,” he retorted.

“Jeno?”

“Literally saw him steal candy from a baby yesterday.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Jisung. Same thing.”

“I’m not apologizing to your friend,” you declared, opening your book again.

“This is the stupidest line you’ve drawn in the sand yet.”

“I’m not going out and bullying him! All I said was that I don’t trust hot people!”

“Flaw in your logic: You’re friends with me,” he pointed out smugly.

“Think on that one again, Hyuck,” you replied snidely, looking down at your book as if you were trying to get back to reading.

“Rude.” He looked back at the other three guys waiting for him, apparently getting an idea. “What about Jeno? He’s like, ridiculously good-looking.”

“I like him just fine. I just don’t trust him, or what people will do for him because he’s stupidly attractive,” you argued.

“It sounds exhausting to be you,” he huffed, turning on his heel and leaving the pool deck.

Later that afternoon, you pulled yourself up out of the pool, heading back towards your chair. Grabbing your towel, you wrapped it around yourself to start drying off before heading back to your apartment. You saw someone walking towards you out of the corner of your eye as you were digging through your bag for your phone.

“Hi.” It was Donghyuck’s tall friend from last night, in workout gear rather than swim trunks. Obviously not here to use the pool.

“Hi.” You wiped a drop of water off your phone screen that had fallen from your nose onto it.

“Do you have a second?”

“Sure.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he focused an apologetic smile on you. “Did I do something or say something? At Donghyuck’s place? Because I’m really—”

“No.”

“—sorry if I did—Wait what?” The smile dropped from his face.

“You didn’t do anything or say anything. You were perfectly nice,” you answered honestly.

“Then it really was what you told Anton?” He asked in disbelief.

Of course, Anton must have told him what you said.

“Look, Sungchan, I’m sorry, I just don’t trust really attractive guys right off the bat.”

“I haven’t done anything to earn your distrust other than—”

“—other than being hot, yeah.” You shrugged. “Even if you really are nice, intentionally or not, people treat you differently just by virtue of you being stupidly hot. Gets in your head, whether you think it has or not.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Not at all.”

“How are you any different then?”

“Different than who?”

“You say that people treat me differently because I’m, in your words, ‘stupidly hot.’” He put the phrase air quotes. “That’s exactly what you’re doing right now.”

“How am I treating you different by not immediately falling at your feet? I don’t do that for average looking guys either.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do.”

“Was I rude to you last night? Bitchy? Outright mean or nasty?” You ticked the adjectives off on your fingers. “No, the most you can accuse me of was being a bit curt. And getting your name wrong, that really was my bad.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to slip your sandals back on and shoulder your tote bag.

“Look, you’re not entitled to my time, attention, or to me,” you told him firmly.

“I didn’t say I was,” he said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“You’ve taken it as a personal affront that I didn’t want to idly chitchat with you last night.”

“I’m just… confused,” Sungchan sighed.

“You’re nice to look at, I’m sure you’re not a complete dud to talk to, it’s probably not torture to make small talk with you at a party. So people do,” you tried to walk him through it. “But it’s not mean for someone to not want to talk to you.”

He was silent again, that same pensive, troubled look on his face, and you found yourself in better spirits than you had been last night.

“This was fun. I would say we should do it again, but I’m afraid I would make you cry and then Hyuck would be really mad at me.” You chuckled, grabbing your keys from your bag. “So, goodbye, Sungchan.”

You were relaxed on your couch that night with a tub of ice cream when a violent banging came at your front door. Pausing the movie you were watching, you rushed to answer it, thinking that it must be the police, or some other kind of emergency. Instead, it was Donghyuck and Mark. You looked at Donghyuck incredulously, the one who had been doing the knocking.

“What is your fucking problem?” He said in lieu of a greeting, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“What did I do now? Allegedly?” You matched his tone, watching as he started pacing your entryway.

“You know what you did.” Mark was calmer, reminding you of a disappointed parent as he looked at you, his hands on his hips.

“You broke him!” Donghyuck declared.

“Who—Oh, Sungchan?” You finally connected the dots.

“Who else’s soul have you ripped out of their chest and stomped on today?”

“He sought me out,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

“And you couldn’t have been a human being and talked to him?”

“We talked. From what you’re saying, it sounds like he didn’t like what I had to say.”

“He’s catatonic!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Only slightly. But he’s not well.”

You scoffed, “If one conversation with me is enough to make him spiral, sounds like he had some other stuff going on before I opened my mouth.”

“So you refuse to take responsibility? For any of this?” Donghyuck regarded you wide, crazed eyes, looking like he was at the end of his rope.

“You’re asking me to what? Fix him?” You snorted in disbelief. “I don’t Mommy grown men, sorry.”

“You are infuriating.” He pointed at you accusatorily. “The party I could’ve let slide—”

“No you couldn’t have, you found me literally the next day demanding that I apologize for not wanting to talk to him,” you spat back.

“Not for that! I’m not going to hold a gun to your head and force you to make small talk with him,” he groaned. “I meant the stuff you were telling Anton, in the kitchen. He heard you.”

“All I said was that I don’t trust people that are that hot. Nothing to have a goddamn mental breakdown over!”

“And he wouldn’t have, if you had just, I don’t know, apologized for the misunderstanding and moved on! But no, you have to take everything to this moral extreme! Honestly, I’m finding it hard to remember what’s even likeable about you in the first place right now,” Donghyuck ranted, running his hands through his hair.

“Hyuck, that was a bit far,” Mark finally spoke up again, stepping forward.

“You really want to die on this hill, Y/N?” Donghyuck just went around his roommate, looking you in the eye. “Then fine. Don’t bother coming on the trip.”

“Hyuck, man, come on—” Mark called after him, but Donghyuck had already stormed out of your apartment.

You watched the empty doorway after him, chest heaving as all the words you’d exchanged finally caught up to you. Looking to your friend that you had been left with, you asked quietly, “Do you think I'm in the wrong, Mark?”

He tilted his head back and forth regretfully. “I think… you’re being a bit abrasive.”

“You agree with Hyuck,” you deadpanned.

“Not entirely. I don’t think he should’ve been throwing Sungchan at you so hard. He should’ve known you weren’t going to take it well, which is probably why he did it in such a weird way.”

“What?”

“He was trying to set you up with Sungchan. But knowing how… you… are, he thought he had to do it with some uh, ‘finesse.’” Mark shrugged one shoulder. “Sungchan wasn’t all that hurt after the party, really. A bit bummed that you brushed him off, sure, but he would’ve bounced back. He’s hard to knock down, literally and metaphorically. Hyuck demanded that you go ‘apologize’ to him so that you’d talk to him again. Same thing with Sungchan talking to you at the pool today, Hyuck told him to.”

“Does Sungchan know that Hyuck’s been trying to set us up this whole time?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“So to him, this has been Hyuck setting him up with, apparently, the biggest bitch he knows,” you winced. No wonder he was so confused earlier.

“I mean…” Mark trailed off sheepishly. “He should’ve told you.”

“And I should’ve been fucking normal,” you groaned, rubbing your face.

“An argument can be made for that, yes.”

“What apartment is Sungchan in?”

According to Mark, Sungchan went on a jog every morning at 8:00, and was usually back by 10:00, so you made sure to knock on his front door at 10:15, just in case.

Sungchan opened the door, wiping sweat from his face with a towel as he spoke, “Anton, I thought we agreed on eleven…”

He trailed off when he opened his eyes and saw who was actually on his doorstep.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you greeted him.

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.” He dropped his hand from his face. In the background, you could hear music playing, and smell food being cooked.

“Uhm, are you busy? I can leave, sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing you in. You stepped into his apartment with a polite, grateful nod. It looked like he had been in the middle of making breakfast, a blender out on his counter, various fruits on a cutting board, and ingredients sizzling in a pan. He went to pause the music on his phone, and stirred the food that was in the pan. He pointed to one of the stools that was at the bar attached to the kitchen counter. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, thanks,” you shook your head. Shouldn’t take that long. “I just wanted to apologize. I was abrasive, and shouldn’t have been using you to try to draw some moral line in the sand as part of an argument with my friend.”

Sungchan nodded. “Thanks. You did have a point, about the party. I wasn’t used to people not wanting to talk to me, it was a weird experience. But you’re right, I wasn’t entitled to your time.” He went back to the cutting board, chopping up a banana and depositing it into the blender. “Besides, I’m sure you have guys come up to you all the time and you just want to be left alone. No worries.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“People treat you different when you’re stupidly hot, right?” He shrugged, scooping some blueberries into the blender next.

“I wasn’t talking about myself…”

Sungchan just grinned and shrugged again. “So I guess I’ll see you at Hyuck’s family cabin then?”

“No. I was uninvited,” you informed him quietly.

“What? Why?”

“Because of how… poorly I handled this.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened with horror. “What? That’s crazy. I didn’t ask him—”

“Don’t worry, I totally get why he did it. His choice was between the nicest guy he knows—” you pointed to Sungchan, “—and the biggest bitch he knows—” you then pointed to yourself, “—who is a compulsive vibe-harsher. I’d pick you too.”

“Don’t tell me he called you—”

“My words,” you assured him.

“I’ll talk to him. No way you should be uninvited over a misunderstanding like this.” He flashed you an easy-going smile. “I mean, we’ve already worked it out. No hard feelings, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, offering a small smile back. “But really, Sungchan, you don’t have to. He’ll think I just apologized to you to get invited back on the trip.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then there we go,” he said as if it were already decided. “I’ll talk to him.”

[hyuck: you’re un-uninvited]

[hyuck: sungchan will pick you up at 2:00 on friday]

[you: why is he picking me up???]

[hyuck: you’re the only two who need to leave late on friday. the rest of us are heading up in the morning]

[you: i have my own car??]

[hyuck: you’ve got a shitty sedan with 200,000 miles on it that can barely make it over a speed bump. you’re not making it up a mountain]

[hyuck: consider this your exposure therapy]

Sure enough, Friday at 2:00 p.m., there was a knock at your front door, Sungchan on the other side.

“Hey,” you greeted him, stepping back to grab your small rolling suitcase. “You really didn’t have to come get me, I could’ve met you down at your car.”

“I don’t mind. You need any help with your bags?” He offered, watching you also shoulder a duffel bag as you tried to wedge your memory foam pillow under your other arm.

“Where’s your stuff?” You questioned, noticing his empty hands.

“I already packed it in the car.” He reached for your suitcase, and you willingly let him take it. He held another hand out, and you gave him your duffel bag as well. Without even asking, he picked up the tote that was at your feet, too, leaving you with just your pillow and phone. “You got everything?”

You looked around your apartment, thinking hard. “Mmm… I’m pretty sure.”

“Phone, wallet, keys, charger?”

“Check.”

“Pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, other toiletries?”

“Check.”

“Let’s do it,” he grinned, leading the way to the front door.

[sungchan: picked y/n up! gonna get some gas on our way out of town if anybody has last minute snack requests. eta 5:00 pm!]

[jeno: 👍]

As some of the others’ snack orders came pouring in, you got one text separately.

[hyuck: be. nice.]

After filling up and triple-checking to make sure you had bought everyone’s food, you and Sungchan were back in his car, a modest-size SUV. He plugged his phone in to charge, then handed it to you.

“Here, you navigate.” The directions to the cabin were already pulled up and started.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You tried to give it back. “I yap and nap.”

“It’s like five turns total for three hours.” He refused to take it back, starting the car and peeling off. “You can be passenger princess all you want. I even know the first two to get onto the highway on my own. Just need the exit number, the road name, and the house number.”

“Oh god, okay…” You sank down into the passenger seat, clutching his phone with two hands.

“Are you really that nice?” You asked once you had been on the highway for a while. Sungchan and you had been taking turns on aux—right now he had something playing—and there was a comfortable lull in conversation, but you couldn’t help the question that had been nagging at the back of your mind the entire time.

“There is no way for me to answer that and not sound like a dick,” he pointed out. “Either I say no, despite knowing that our mutual friends have apparently hyped up how nice I am to you, in which case it just looks like I’m acting humble. Dick move. Or I say yes, which would make me look like I’m full of myself. Dick move again.”

You looked over at him, feeling the smirk tug at your lips. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks?”

“So if you don’t think you’re that nice, how would you describe yourself?”

“What is this? Speed dating?” He snorted.

“You want to talk about something else? Pick a better topic yourself,” you retorted. “We’re stuck in here for like two more hours.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly went to smooth the conversation over, his tone turning pleasant again. “I just meant… I don’t know how accurate a self-assessment like that would be. Wouldn’t you be biased about yourself? Positive or negative?”

“That’s the fun of it. Even if a person doesn’t describe themselves accurately, understanding how they see themselves can help you understand them a lot better.”

“How would you describe yourself then?”

“I asked you first.” You pointed out. It felt like it had been a long time since you checked the navigation, so you clicked Sungchan’s phone back on to see how much longer you had to go until your exit.

“Fine.” He hummed as he thought. “I like to think I’m… dependable. And a good friend. And patient—”

“That was our exit,” you said abruptly, staring at the constantly refreshing rerouting screen in front of you.

“What?”

“Well, fifty miles ago was our exit…” You winced, watching ‘288’ pass you by. Yours had been 238, apparently. You should’ve known that.

“We missed our exit?” Sungchan clarified.

“Fifty miles back, yeah.”

“And you just decided to tell me?”

“I just noticed! I thought it was 288!” You tried to defend yourself. “I told you not to make me navigate!”

He held a hand out towards you. “Give me the phone.”

“It’s rerouting, I’ll pay attention—”

“Y/N, give me the fucking phone.” His tone was low, with no room for arguing.

You meekly set it in his hand, dropping both your hands in your lap after. He cursed under his breath as he jerked the wheel over, cutting across three lanes of traffic—no turn signal—to narrowly make the next exit. Car horns followed his maneuver, but he ignored them.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, unable to take the suffocating silence anymore. It was either apologize or tuck and roll, which was honestly still an option at this point.

“Text everyone, let them know we’ll be late,” Sungchan demanded, knuckles red and white around the wheel.

“Okay.” You scrambled to pull out your own phone. “What time should I tell them?”

“Eight.”

You gaped. “Three hours?!”

“Yes, Y/N, we’re on the other side of the fucking mountain now!” He finally snapped and raised his voice, and your eyes went wide. “We can’t just drive through it to get there!”

You took a deep breath, holding his eye contact for a tense, strangling moment before you looked down at your phone to draft your text.

[you: hey guys! uhm, due to an unfortunate series of events, sungchan and i will be a bit late! new eta 8pm]

[anton: did y’all crash or smth wtf]

Again, a separate text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: i said be nice not fuck him nasty in the backseat for three hours what is wrong with you]

[you: shut UP]

Back in your vacation group chat, you figured you owed everyone an explanation that alleviated Sungchan of any blame.

[you: completely my fault! i’m apparently the worst navigator ever and we missed our exit :/ ]

[rina: damn y/n maintaining the stereotype that women are bad drivers even when backseat driving]

[ningning: the patriarchy thanks u for ur service queen 🫡]

[jeno: i hate when you guys start joking like this, wtf are we supposed to say without looking like assholes]

[hyuck: pour one out for y/n, it must be so hard holding open the gender pay gap like the doors of a subway car all by herself too]

[mark: bro 😭😭😭]

[you: i wish all of you a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

And one more private text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: okay that’s how i know you didn’t get dicked down]

[hyuck: damn, you really are bad at reading directions huh]

[you: IM BLOCKING YOU]

Sungchan cleared his throat, and you slowly lowered your phone to look over at him again. He smoothly took a curve on the backroad that you were now on, one lane in each direction, that cut between the mountains with trees jutting up on either side of you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sungchan breathed out, readjusting in his seat. “For yelling at you just now. That’s not… like me.”

“Because you’re so nice?” You couldn’t bite your tongue quick enough, still put off from the spat you’d just had.

“I… guess so,” he sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know where that came from, honest. I’m really sorry.”

“I told you I shouldn’t navigate.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m really, really sorry for missing the exit. I should’ve been paying attention better,” you shouldered the blame that was yours.

“238 and 288 look almost the same. Easy mistake.”

“That added three hours to our drive,” you sighed, leaning your seat back.

“It’s done, no use pointing fingers at each other anymore,” Sungchan shook his head, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Or yourself.”

“Do you even have enough gas for another three hours? We’re not going to get stuck out here, are we?”

“I’ll stop at the next station I see.”

“How far is the next station?” You mumbled, pulling up your phone to search it up on your own. “Fifty-two miles. How much gas do we have?”

“A hundred miles on the range. See? We’re fine.” Sungchan’s smile dropped off his face right after he said that. “Huh…”

“What?” You sat up as he reached over to put the hazards on and pulled the car off onto the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Low tire pressure light,” he frowned. “I checked my tires before I grabbed you from your place. Give me a sec.”

He left the car running as he hopped out, and you watched as he walked around the car, squatting down to inspect each of the tires. Finally, he walked up to your window. You rolled it down to talk to him.

“Back right tire has a nail in it. Slow leak,” he explained. “I’ve got to change it.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to drive spares in certain conditions?” You asked as he reached through the open window to unlock and open the door. “Like on a mountain road or whatever?”

With the door open, he rolled the window back up and reached past you to turn the car off, taking the key out of the ignition. “The road’s paved, it’s not like it’s gravel or anything. I’ll have to drive careful and drive slow on the spare, but it’s either that or we’re stranded out here.”

You eyed the sun that was already descending behind the mountains. “Right. Spare it is.”

“Need you to hold the flashlight if you don’t mind.” He opened the glove box in front of you, rooting around and grabbing a flashlight the length of your forearm.

You accepted it from him. “Got it.”

Sungchan took the tools out of the trunk, as well as the spare tire. He first lifted the car up with the jack, and you became acutely aware of how abandoned the road that you were on really was as not a single other car passed by the entire time. Sungchan stood back up once the car was up to peel off his flannel, tossing it into the trunk with the rest of the tools and the spare waiting to be used.

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” You looked down at where he had gotten back on the ground.

“I need to see the lug nuts, not my arms.”

“Sorry.” You shuffled behind him to be able to point the beam directly on the tire instead of where it had drifted to his mostly bare arms under his t-shirt.

“Much better. Thanks.”

You watched as his hands skillfully unscrewed the lug nuts from the tire with the wrench, holding the first two behind him. “Hold these for me?”

“Oh, sure.” You held your hand out for him to drop them into your palm.

Once you had all five in hand, Sungchan pulled the flat off the car and swapped it out for the spare. You tried not to listen to the darkened forest behind you.

“Lug nuts?” He held his hand up from where he was laying on the ground. You deposited a couple back into his hand for him to screw on at a time.

As he alternated between tightening the nuts and lowering the car down off the jack, you dutifully kept the flashlight pointed on the area he was working on. Finally, the car was back on the ground, and he took the jack out from under it. He rolled the old tire around until he could point out the head of a nail embedded in the tread.

“There’s the little fucker.” Sungchan clicked his tongue before he heaved the tire up into the back. He put away all the tools too, then wiped away beads of sweat that had gathered under his bangs with the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed his flannel, tossing it over his shoulder before he shut the hatch on the trunk. He then turned to you with a bright smile and held his hand up for a high-five. “Alright!”

You high-fived him back mindlessly, pointing the flashlight at your feet now. “I didn’t do anything…”

“What are you talking about? I would’ve been fumbling around in the dark without you.” He nodded his head towards the front of the car. “Come on, we’re going to be late as is. We need to find that gas station. Hopefully they’re open late.”

“Hopefully…”

[you: NEW new eta idfk]

[you: we got a flat and need to fill up again]

[you: we might die out here. if this is my last message, just know that i still wish you all a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

[rina: aw ily2 pookie <33]

[you: sungchan probably says hi or smth]

Hyuck texted you individually again.

[hyuck: oh i know that car smells RANK 🫵🫵🫵]

[you: bitch this tire is as flat as YOUR ASS]

[hyuck: so it’s caked up??? my point is made 😌]

[you: delusion]

“The stars are really pretty out here,” Sungchan’s voice took you away from your phone.

He wasn’t driving as fast as before on account of the spare, making your trip even longer. You looked out the windshield in front of you, at a small patch of sky that you could see peeking out in between the mountains and trees. It was hundreds, if not thousands of stars, infinitely more than you could ever hope to see on a perfectly clear night in the city.

“Wow.” You leaned your arms and head forward on the dash to see it better. “That’s crazy…”

“I bet we’ll see even more once we get to the cabin.”

“If we don’t die out here first,” you half-joked. “How much gas do we have?”

“Sixty miles. And the station should be another ten.”

“Online didn’t have any hours for it…” You muttered. “And this is kind of rural…”

“Which means the owner might live on the property, or they have someone work a night shift for weary travelers just like us.”

“Weary travelers?” You repeated with amusement. “You make it sound like we’re going on some long journey and are seeking lodging at an inn.”

“Some of that’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I won’t knock the weary part either.” You laid back in your seat again, letting out a yawn.

“Take a nap,” Sungchan encouraged you. “We’ll still have a while to drive after refilling, especially since we’re driving slow with the spare.”

“I would, but if the station is open, I gotta pee…” You whispered. “And it’s only like ten miles.”

“Then take a nap after.”

Finally, there was a building in the distance, and miraculously, when Sungchan pulled up to the lone gas pump, the lights inside were even on.

“Sungchan?” You walked around to where he was filling up the car.

“Yeah?” He looked over at you from where he had been watching the numbers on the meter go up.

“Uhm, can you go in with me? Into the store?” You asked almost sheepishly. “I just—”

“Of course.” He agreed with no hesitation, nodding towards the building for you to lead the way. The gas continued pumping on its own as he walked away, and you grabbed his arm as you approached the front door. He didn’t say anything as he opened the door for the two of you.

The attendant behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone at the two of you as you entered. There was exactly one bathroom at the very back of the small convenience store, and Sungchan walked you back through the cramped aisles of snacks. When you were done, he was waiting just outside the door where you’d left him.

“Good?” He asked quietly, offering you the same arm that you’d taken in the parking lot.

You took it gladly. “Good.”

Sungchan gave the store employee a nod of acknowledgement as the two of you left, and the man once again didn’t even look up at you. Back at the car, the gas had clicked off on its own, and Sungchan replaced the pump. He walked you to the passenger side, opening your door and ushering you in, closing it firmly behind you before getting in on his side and locking it behind him.

“Good?” He asked you again.

“Good,” you confirmed, and he started the car up.

Back on the road, the darkness all around you, steady rumble of the pavement under you, and music Sungchan had playing at a low volume was slowly lulling you back towards sleep again. You let out a rather obvious, violent yawn, not even having enough in you to slap your hand over your mouth all that quick.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” Sungchan said again.

“But you’ve got to drive more,” you argued. “Who’s going to keep you awake?”

“I’ve got it, promise.” He then chuckled to himself. “You’ve yapped, now it’s time to nap.”

“Mm, alright.” You curled up in your reclined seat as best you could, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Wake me up if you need entertainment to stay awake. Love a good car sing-along…”

Your eyes and limbs still felt heavy and sluggish with sleep when you woke up later that night, and you pulled your blanket tighter to you as you tried to settle back in. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and then immediately remembered that you did not go to sleep with a blanket on you, and that this definitely was not yours that was on you right now. You felt at the material bunched in your hand again and recognized it as an article of clothing of some sort, not a blanket. Slowly opening one eye, you saw that it was a big hoodie, the arms wrapped around your shoulders so it didn’t fall off.

You shifted in your seat again, sitting up a little more as you looked at the hoodie that was draped over you a little closer.

“Hey, are you waking up?” Sungchan asked quietly from beside you.

You looked over at him, squinting. “Mm… mhm.”

“Good, we’re almost there. I’d say ten minutes,” he informed you.

“What… time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

“Ugh…” You dropped your head back against the seat. “Feels like two in the morning.”

“I know what you mean,” he chuckled. “I’m going to be ready to sleep as soon as we get there too.”

“Yeah, but you were like driving and changing tires and stuff. I was... whatever the opposite of a passenger princess is, the whole time. A passenger nuisance.”

“You held the flashlight. That was a very important job.”

“I’m going to pretend like that didn’t feel patronizing and say thanks.”

“We both had a long night, Y/N. Being tired is warranted, for everyone involved.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, not just for that.” You were interrupted by another yawn as you went to put the back of your seat upright again. “For… driving me, and apologizing for snapping at me earlier, and changing the tire, and walking me to the bathroom, and for the hoodie. You’re…”

“Nice?” He seemed to be bracing himself for the word.

“A good guy.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t say anything else, readjusting his hoodie on you as he continued driving. Finally, he pulled off the road into a driveway, and a cabin came into view. All the lights were on, and he stopped behind a few other cars that you recognized: Mark’s, Jaemin’s, and Karina’s.

The two of you had just started taking your stuff out of the trunk when some of your friends met you outside.

“You survived!” Jaemin cheered.

“Barely,” you groaned, reaching for your pillow.

“What happened to your tire, dude?” Mark asked Sungchan.

“Got a nail in it somewhere,” he explained, taking his phone out to shine the flashlight on it. As they looked it over and talked about the car, the others grabbed both yours and Sungchan’s stuff to take into the cabin.

“So, before you guys got a flat, how exactly did you manage to read the map on your phone so wrong you added three hours to the drive?” Jeno questioned you, your duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Our exit was 238, I misread it, thought it was 288,” you explained with a sigh. “We ended up on the wrong side of the mountain and had to go back around.”

“Damn, it’s a good thing you were with Sungchan when you did that,” Anton laughed, dragging Sungchan’s suitcase in. “Anybody else probably would’ve lost their shit on you.”

“He did.”

Everyone who was within earshot turned to look at you.

“What?” Anton blinked.

“I mean, he didn’t like, go crazy or anything, but he was angry.”

“We’re talking about the same guy, right? Jung Sungchan, right over there?” Hyuck pointed to where Sungchan and Mark were still chatting by the cars further down the driveway. “He got like, actually mad at you?”

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed. “Raised his voice, yelled, whatever word you want to use. Cursed, too.”

“I’ve never even seen him get like, frustrated…” Shotaro whistled.

Hyuck looked between you and Sungchan in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“He apologized,” you added what felt like a pretty important detail.

“I’m sure he did,” Anton snorted, opening the front door. “I’m kind of surprised he’s not still like, begging for your forgiveness.”

“He apologized for getting upset, I apologized for missing the exit, we moved on.” You shrugged, stepping into the cabin. “And the sky didn’t fall.”

“Yet.” Hyuck scoffed. “Who knows, hell might freeze over before we wake up.”

“Speaking of, where exactly are we all sleeping?”

The next morning, you slipped out of the king size bed that you, Karina, and Ningning were all sharing and treaded down the darkened hallway as quietly as possible. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and you winced when a floorboard creaked underfoot as you passed behind the pull-out couch that Shotaro and Anton had crashed on.

There was already light pouring out of the kitchen when you got there, and a tall figure was standing in front of the stove, a tea kettle on one of the old coil burners. Sungchan was illuminated by the stove light, and turned around when he heard the shuffling of your socks across the tile. It looked like he had already showered and gotten dressed, his hair a little damp as it hung in his eyes, and he was in a fresh t-shirt, shorts, and pair of sneakers.

“You’re up early,” he commented, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others in the next room.

“You too,” you replied just as softly.

The kettle began whistling just then, and he immediately flipped open the spout to stop the noise, taking it off the stove. He opened a nearby cabinet to grab a mug.

“Tea?” He offered. “I’m not a big coffee guy…”

“Sure,” you accepted, and he took a second mug down. “What kind?”

Sungchan went to a different cabinet to get a box of tea sachets. “Green.”

He dropped a tea bag into each mug, then poured the boiling water over them. He handed you your mug before leaning against a spot by the sink.

“Thanks.” You wrapped your hands contentedly around the warm drink.

You lifted your bag up and down by the string, letting it steep as your eyes blinked open and closed, your mind still coming to in the early morning hours. Outside the cabin, you could hear birds singing as the forest woke up too, and you smiled to yourself at the thought.

“So, uh—” Sungchan cleared his throat awkwardly. “What’s the difference between a nice guy and a good guy?”

You opened your eyes, lifting your head to look up at him, slightly amused. You hoped this hadn’t kept him up last night. “A nice guy wouldn’t have yelled at me in the first place.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit ashamed, and also like he might try to apologize again.

“But that also would’ve made no opportunity for you to apologize,” you continued. “A nice guy is just nice. A good guy can admit when he’s wrong, because he actually is wrong sometimes. But he fixes it after.”

“Huh…” Sungchan took another sip of his tea. “Are you a philosophy student or something? Gender studies?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just a compulsive vibe-harsher, like I said.”

“I don’t know how being smart harshes the vibe.”

“I… find it hard to take things at face value. I always have to evaluate them through some lens. It’s tough for me to live in the moment, I guess. Doesn’t always make me the most fun at parties.”

“You can’t be that much of a bummer, they keep inviting you places.” He had finished his tea, and turned around to wash out the mug before setting it aside to dry. “I’ve got to go, I found a place that’ll look at my tire. I called and they’re open on Saturdays.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered. “If you want some company…”

“It’s on the other side of the mountain,” he informed you. “It’ll be an all-day thing, you should hang out here with everyone. I think Hyuck said they were going to take the boat out.”

“But then you’ll be all alone and bored in the car all day.” You tilted your head. “If you just don’t want me to come, tell me. I’ll be okay.”

“No, Y/N, I’d appreciate the company, but are you sure you want to be stuck in the car with me all day again?”

“Just don’t make me navigate and we’ll be good.”

“Never again,” he smiled. “You’ll be there purely for entertainment.”

“Great, let me get changed.”

“Aw, I thought the jammies were cute,” Sungchan snickered, and for the first time that morning you processed what you were wearing.

A pair of Sanrio character-patterned sleep shorts that were originally from a pajama set (the matching button-up top had long disappeared), well-loved, and a big t-shirt that your dad had gotten from his work when you were high school, worn in with a couple holes in one of the sleeves and another low on the bottom hem—not in any scandalous areas, hence why you hadn’t retired it yet, but definitely not your finest attire.

“Shut up!” You hissed, putting your mug down on the counter to cross your arms over your chest. “I’m changing!”

[sungchan: going to get my tire fixed, y/n’s with me. car shop is on the other side of the mountain so we’ll be back late afternoon-ish]

[jeno: 👍]

“I wasn’t kidding, the pajamas were cute,” Sungchan chuckled as he pulled away from the cabin.

The backroads looked much more welcoming and pleasant in the daytime, all tall, green trees and beautiful mountain landscapes.

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted, taking over the aux first.

“Is my hoodie over there by the way?” He questioned, pointing to the passenger seat floor. “It wasn’t in my stuff yesterday, I thought it might’ve ended up on the floor or something.”

“Oh, sorry, I accidentally took it in with me,” you informed him, remembering when you had finally gotten settled into your room late last night and realized you’d brought the article of clothing in with you in the midst of the hecticness. “I’ll give it back to you when we get back to the cabin after this.”

“Don’t worry about it, just wondering where it went.” He waved you off nonchalantly, eyes focused on the road as he navigated a curve.

But you weren’t going to let him chalant around that so easily. “And what does that mean, Sungchan?”

“I like that hoodie and didn’t want to have lost it on a mountain in the middle of nowhere?”

“So, if I were to give it back to you and start borrowing, oh, I don’t know, Jeno’s hoodie…?”

“That’d be weird, because you have a perfectly good one,” he replied simply.

“Mhm…”

“And clearly, I’m trying to establish my dominance over the other males and stake my unofficial claim over you by having you wear my clothes,” he looked over at you, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You held his eye contact for a moment before you both burst out laughing. “What?!”

“Sorry, I tried my hand at harshing the vibe like you,” his eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Just sounded like a fucking weirdo, huh?”

“A bit, yeah.” You wheezed as you tried to catch your breath. “You also can’t sound that sarcastic when you do it. People have to believe that you believe what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t though. I mean, not completely. I think.”

“Either commit to the bit or don’t.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “But… wouldn’t that have made you feel weird? What I just said?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t buy into all that alpha male social hierarchy bullshit. It’s based off one study on a pack of wolves that’s been debunked multiple times.” You shook your head. “But the second part wasn’t an incorrect analysis of flirting and dating dynamics.”

“Damn, you’re good at that,” he chuckled fondly.

“I didn’t know that Donghyuck was setting us up, by the way,” you felt the need to clarify in that moment. “Not until… right before I apologized?”

“I kind of worked that out eventually,” he sighed. “He should’ve told you, by the way.”

“Yeah, then maybe I would’ve been fucking normal.”

“Probably not.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, it was unfair to you to have been in the dark like that.”

“That’s… generous. Here I thought it was unfair to you to have been subjected to me like that.”

“I was a bit confused as to why Donghyuck told me he had the perfect person for me and then every time I talked to you, you either ran away or seemed to hate me for no good reason,” he admitted.

“I truly wonder what his thought process was…” You mused. “He meets you playing pickup basketball, you turn out to be nicest guy he’s ever met, and his first thought is to introduce you to me? Weird.”

“Why is that weird?” Sungchan tilted his head. “I think you’re cool.”

“I mean, I’m not nice. Or, it’s definitely not one of my defining characteristics. Wouldn’t you want to set up your two nicest single friends with each other?”

“They might get bored of each other,” he muttered.

You looked at him curiously. “Do you think you’re boring, Sungchan?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that what people say? ‘Oh he’s… a nice guy.’ When they can’t think of anything else about you because you’re boring.”

“I’ve had plenty of fun with you,” you assured him. “Including being stuck in a car with you for six hours and getting a flat tire.”

“I haven’t exactly been my usual self with you…” He confessed quietly.

“Oh?”

“I don’t get upset with people, or tease them like this, or say weird stuff to try to harsh the vibe on purpose.”

You couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter. “Maybe you are usually pretty boring, then.”

“I think… because you’ve already seen me get mad, and we got past that, I feel like I can try out being things other than nice with you?” He seemed to have been picking his words very carefully. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, it makes sense,” you affirmed. “Are you seriously saying you don’t joke around with the others?”

“I joke around, but I’m not really like… sarcastic, I guess. I don’t want to say something and hurt someone’s feelings either because they didn’t get that it was a joke, or even if they did, because it went too far.”

“That’s fair, but… you have to trust people.”

“Coming from the woman who said she doesn’t trust hot people?” He questioned pointedly.

“Okay, fair,” you chuckled. “But hear me out.”

“Go for it.”

“If your friend said or did something that hurt your feelings, and you didn’t tell them that directly, would you expect them to know?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, they can’t read my mind. I would need to tell them so we can talk about it.”

“Then why do you have higher standards for yourself as a friend than you have for your friends?”

Sungchan’s mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened again, then closed once more as he frowned deeply, his brows knitting together.

You continued, “You have to trust your friends to tell you when they’re hurt by something you say or do. If you spend your whole life assuming what your friends’ feelings are instead actually letting them tell you, you’re just forcing your own expectations onto them without their input. And it’s also not fair to you to constantly be living your life trying to minimize all these perceived slights against people. Not to mention—sometimes someone’s feelings can get hurt and you didn’t really do anything wrong.”

He laughed nervously. “Not philosophy or gender studies grad student; I think I’m going to skip right over psychology and just go straight for all-knowing deity that can see straight into my soul?”

“Been thinking about updating my LinkedIn to Professional Yapper, but I think I like that better,” you grinned, handing his phone back over to him. “Your turn on the aux.”

“It’s fixable,” the tire shop owner confirmed. “Should take an hour or so. It’s just me and my son and we have a couple customers ahead of you. You and your girlfriend are welcome to wait here, or, you know, it’s lunchtime, there’s a restaurant that’s a five-minute walk down the road.”

He pointed in presumably the general direction of it.

“Right, uhm, here’s my number, in case we’re not here when it’s done.” Sungchan wrote his number down on a notepad on the front desk in the small tire shop.

The older man pulled the paper towards him, flashing the both of you a smile. “If you go to lunch, tell Mrs. Han I sent you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded to the man before you both stepped away from the counter, and the owner walked into the back where the cars were.

You looked up at Sungchan questioningly. “I could do lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Beats sitting here for an hour. After sitting in the car for two days straight, I’d like to walk for a bit.”

There was of course no sidewalk, so the two of you had to walk on the shoulder of the road, the odd vehicle zipping by every so often and kicking up your hair. Sungchan kept himself between you and the road, meaning that you were on the grassier part of the shoulder, but you didn’t mind, taking the opportunity to look for wildflowers by your feet.

“Did we really look like a couple?” You asked, stopping to bend over and pick a yellow wildflower, then continued your walk.

“We were a man and woman alone in the middle of nowhere with car trouble,” Sungchan pointed out. “I don’t think the first assumption would be that we met a week ago.”

“Hm, fair.”

“He probably sees a lot of couples coming out here for romantic getaways breaking down or getting flats or whatever.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie…” You picked a stalk of small white flowers. “Or the first five minutes of a crime procedural.”

Sungchan grabbed a purple flower and held it out to you. “Truly a miracle that we survived.”

“Are you a mechanic or something?”

“Why? Because I know how to change a tire?”

You shrugged. “It’s a guess. You guessed that I was a philosophy student because I like to yap.”

“Not a mechanic.”

“You going to make me keep guessing?”

“I’ve guessed what you do three times now and you’ve yet to tell me.” He elbowed you. “I think you can handle a little more suspense about me.”

You swatted his arm away. “I don’t know if all-knowing deity should really count…”

“I was being so serious, hand on my heart.” He laid his hand over his chest dramatically.

“Well, I know it’s not pro basketball player,” you hummed teasingly. “Anton says you suck.”

“My three-pointer could use some work…”

“Pretty much our whole complex is grad students or young professionals... Are you in school?”

“You haven’t given me any hints.”

“You haven’t asked for any.”

He watched you step a little further from the road to get a pink flower from a patch before rejoining him. “I’ll answer if you answer.”

“A bargain?” You grinned, taking your gaze off the blue flowers that you had been eyeing up ahead of you and turning it up to Sungchan next to you. “I’ll take it. You first.”

“I’m a student. Your turn.”

“Both,” you answered. “I take night classes.”

“I have to guess two things for you?”

“What do we win if we guess right, anyway?” You asked.

“Y/N...” Sungchan stared you down at you avoiding his question.

“Fine, if you can guess one, I’ll tell you the other,” you acquiesced. “So what’s the prize?”

“Winning isn’t enough?” He questioned.

“You’re the one who turned it into a game.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who did that, but okay,” he teased back. “I don’t know, what do you think it should it be? You suggested a prize.”

You hummed, stepping away from the road to reach for a bright blue flower, having to lean over to one side as the ground sloped down steeply in this area. A few pieces of gravel under your feet tumbled downhill, and Sungchan grabbed your forearm that was close to him to balance you as you picked the flower. Still hunched over, using your new stability with his hold on you to stretch your arm even further out towards a pretty orange one, you suggested, “Winner picks our first date when we get back home?”

“Date?” He echoed, his grip slipping on you for a moment.

You yelped as you nearly lost your balance, and Sungchan barely caught you from tumbling down the hillside, jerking you back towards him. You landed on your ass at his feet, huffing as you looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, moving to offer you a hand up.

You took it, standing back up and brushing yourself off. Picking the orange wildflower first, you then threatened, “If you push me down this mountain for real, I’m taking you with me.”

“Yeah, that’s deserved,” he chuckled. “I was just, uhm, surprised.”

“Donghyuck tried to set us up—failed stupendously, which I mean, it’s Hyuck, what’s new?—but we’ve been flirting, I have your hoodie, unless something goes terribly wrong in the next two weeks, that would be the next step, right?” You pointed out. “I wasn’t planning on overanalyzing this but…”

Sungchan let out a round of giggles, his whole face scrunching up as he laughed. “Oh… you don’t know how relieved I am right now to hear you overanalyze that for me.”

“What…?”

“No offense, but it’s a bit hard to tell when you’re analyzing and when you’re flirting,” he admitted, still looking at you with a wide, fond grin. “I mean, this all literally started with you calling me stupidly hot and that somehow being a bad thing.”

You pursed your lips ruefully. “I can see how that might’ve been confusing…”

“No, it’s great,” he chuckled. “You’re great.”

Finally sitting in a booth in the small roadside restaurant, which only had a handful of other customers, the two of you had put in your orders with Mrs. Han and were sipping on your drinks as you went back to your guessing game from the walk.

“We have to guess before we get back to the cabin,” you determined, folding your hands in front of you. “Other people there know us. They might say something.”

Sungchan nodded from across the table. “Good point. Time limit, I like it.”

“Business major. MBA,” you started immediately.

“What? No,” he snorted incredulously.

“It’s basically Undeclared for people who don’t want to disappoint their parents, I had to guess it, sorry.”

“Literature, writing, MFA, something in there?”

“No, and that was like two guesses, so I get two this time.” You clicked your tongue. “Master’s in education, focus in coaching pedagogy.”

“That was one?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay, my second: International Relations.”

“No.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m switching gears, because you seem to know a lot of degrees off the top of your head. You work in the Registrar’s Office?”

“No.”

“Damn! Wait, no, you’re an academic advisor?”

“Nope.”

“Graduate advisor.”

“No, and that was three in a row, Sungchan,” you pointed out humorously.

“I know. Alright, your three?”

“Can I ask a question to narrow it down instead?”

He squinted suspiciously. “What kind of question?”

“To help me narrow the field down. I won’t ask you to tell me the field, they’ll still be yes or no questions.”

“Yes, only if I can ask you the same.”

“It’d only be fair,” you confirmed. “STEM?”

“No.”

“Oh thank God,” you let out a groan of relief.

He laughed. “What’s wrong with people in STEM fields?”

“Listen, love a woman in STEM,” you defended yourself. “Men in STEM… they’re… how do I put this nicely? Insufferable know-it-alls?”

“That’s putting it nicely?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your drink. “Don’t tell me it’s Finance either…”

“No.”

“Okay, I have one more…” You tapped your finger to your chin. “Is it a Fine Art?”

“No.” Sungchan looked down at the small bunch of flowers that you had set aside on the table. “What are you going to do with those?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at them for a while. Take pretty pictures for my Instagram. Toss them eventually, I guess. They’re not gonna live forever.”

Selecting one of the little pink flowers, you reached across the table to tuck it behind Sungchan’s ear. “There.”

He touched the flower, a similar shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Your turn to guess.”

“STEM?”

“Math is my worst enemy, numbers were invented to harm me personally,” you retorted. “No.”

“I should’ve known,” he teased.

Mrs. Han brought your food out then, and you both thanked her before she bustled off to take care of a family that had just walked in. There was a pause in your conversation as you started eating. The food was delicious, and as you took another sip to wash it down, you looked out the window next to your table.

“The view is just crazy here,” you gushed, taking in the mountainside dotted with more colorful patches of wildflowers. You patted your pocket for your phone, then frowned when you couldn’t find it. “Where’s my—”

Wordlessly, Sungchan picked it up from the tabletop and held it out to you. You smiled at him. “Oh, thanks! Didn’t even see it.”

After taking a few pictures, you set your phone back down and returned to your guessing game. “Law?”

He shook his head, still chewing, and wiped his face before speaking with a clear mouth. “Nope. Are your job and what you’re studying related at all?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I don’t think that actually helped me at all.”

“Education?”

“Mm, yes to the field, but I will make you narrow it down further,” Sungchan acquiesced.

You beamed at having finally gotten closer. “So I was on the right track with my second guess!”

“Are you doing a Fine Art?”

“No. Master’s in Early Childhood Education?”

He let out a soft chuckle as he sat back in the booth, holding his hands up in surrender. “You win.”

“Yes!” You cheered quietly, pumping a fist victoriously at eye level. “I was going to start at Early Childhood and keep going up in age bracket until I got a yes.”

“So?” He prompted you. “What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a primary school teacher and I tutor on the side for some extra cash.” You watched his eyes grow wide as you revealed this. “And I’m taking a mix of night classes and online classes to get my degree in Educational Leadership and Policy Studies.”

“And that’s a…?”

“Doctorate.”

“Wow…” He breathed out. “Donghyuck really didn’t tell me anything about you before dragging me over to you at his party but uh—”

“Maybe he figured he’s got one friend who is a teacher and one who wants to be a teacher, might as well?” You suggested with humor in your tone, reaching for your glass.

“Yeah, maybe,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling as he kept looking at you.

When you and Sungchan finally got back to the cabin, you found it entirely devoid of your other friends.

“No welcoming party this time?” You scoffed, gesturing to the empty living room. “Now I’m thinking we should just keep the free fudge Mrs. Han gave us all to ourselves.”

“Hyuck did say they were going to take the boat out,” Sungchan reminded you, placing the bag containing said free fudge onto the kitchen counter. “And there’s no way the two of us could eat all that by ourselves before they got back.”

You made a small ‘hmph’ sound, moving to the large sliding glass door in the living room that afforded a view of the lake. The sun glistened off the water, and from here you couldn’t even see the next closest neighbor.

“Do you want to go down to the dock?” Sungchan suggested, joining you by the door. “They took the boat, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck inside.”

“So,” Sungchan followed you down the pathway from the back porch down to the dock. “Once you have your degree, do you still want to be a teacher?”

“Yeah, my kids are why I’m getting it in the first place,” you explained, carefully picking your way down the steep decline. “I want to be able to advocate on behalf of them better, and understand what’s going on when the people who aren’t teachers are making decisions that affect us.”

“What year do you teach?”

“I provide supplemental curricula for all ages. Reading and writing mostly.” You peeked back at him over your shoulder. “Do you have an age you want to teach?”

A giddy smile tugged at his lips. “Little ones. Preschool. They’re so… Everything’s new to them. It’s so much fun seeing the world like that.”

“Yeah, it is.” You could feel that you were smiling too, turning your eyes back down to watch your step.

Soon, you were down on the dock, laid out on your towel as you enjoyed a puddle of sunlight, listening to the sounds of Sungchan splashing around in the water in front of you.

“You’re going to get skin cancer like that.”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you looked over your sunglasses at where Sungchan had climbed back up the ladder and was sitting on the edge of the dock, pushing his wet hair out of his face. Like you’d said before, stupidly attractive.

“You literally helped me apply my sunscreen,” you drawled pointedly, recalling when he’d so coyly offered to help you get your back. Pushing your sunglasses back into place, you laid down again. “If I do, it’s your fault.”

You could hear him stand up and walk towards you. “I’ve never understood laying in the sun like that. Don’t you get all sweaty?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m cold-blooded,” you replied humorously.

“Well, do you think you can survive one swim, or will your blood turn sludge in your veins as soon as you touch water?”

You snickered, finally sitting up. “Fine, fine, I’ll get in.”

Sungchan watched you get to your feet, then offered his hand out. You eyed it suspiciously.

“I’m getting in,” you promised, pointing to the ladder.

He offered his hand more insistently. “It’s not that bad. Jump in with me.”

You sighed, grabbing his hand. “Fine.”

Stepping up the edge of the dock with him, he swung your clasped hands in time as he counted, “One, two—”

“Three!” You finished, pulling him forward with you.

He rushed to bring his other hand up to plug his nose as you careened the both of you off the dock and into the lake. The water surged up around you, cool but not cold, not too warm to be gross, just refreshing enough. You squeezed your eyes shut as you went under, and let go of Sungchan’s hand so you could paddle back up to the surface. Wiping the water from your eyes, you laughed as he immediately pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“Dragging your heels only to pull me off!” He was grinning too.

“I’m sorry, did I see you plugging your nose?” You teased back. “At your big age?”

“I’m not getting a brain-eating amoeba, thank you,” he retorted. “You were asleep, but there was this billboard we passed on our way here warning people about it.”

“But do you know how to blow nose bubbles, Sungchan?”

“Well, no.”

“Okay, mini-swim lesson,” you declared, waving him closer. “Come on, I used to teach water safety to little kids. If I can teach a two-year-old to stop snorting water, I believe in you.”

“You taught swim lessons?”

“Yeah, it was my first job, in high school.” You locked back into instructing. “You can blow your nose, right?”

He looked at you blankly. “Yes.”

“Hey, some people have body awareness issues, it’s always better to ask.” You held your hands up defensively. “So, same mechanics, air goes out into the water, keep your mouth closed, and don’t inhale through your nose right after while it’s still underwater.”

You did a small demonstration for him, only submerging from your chin to your nose, letting out a slow stream of bubbles. Bringing your face back up, you added, “And try not to exhale all at once.”

Sungchan mirrored your actions, lowering his face until his nose was underwater, slowly exhaling. He uncertainly lifted his head again after, eyes on you.

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Yay! There we go!”

“That was... weirdly easy.” He immediately did it again.

“Now you just have to think about doing it all the time, until you don’t have to think about doing it.” You rolled over onto your back, relaxing as you floated. “Then you’ll never have to worry about plugging your nose again.”

“If you used to be a swim instructor, why didn’t you want to swim?” Sungchan followed after you curiously as you drifted away.

“Because then I do stuff like give grown men lessons on how to blow nose bubbles.”

“That was helpful.”

“And—” You popped up to tread water again, facing Sungchan. “I kind of hate lakes. And oceans. Anything that I can’t see the bottom in, and where stuff lives. Like fish, or brain-eating amoebas. I like my pools.”

His face fell. “Oh, well we can get out—”

“I said kind of,” you cut him off. “I don’t mind, because you wanted to swim, and I’m having fun with you.”

“But—”

“Sungchan.” You held his gaze steadily, keeping your voice calm, inquisitive even. “Have you ever done something you don’t really care for, because your friends or family wanted to?”

“Well, yeah.”

“They’re worth it?”

“Of course.”

You tilted your head with a knowing smile. “So are you.”

His face flushed with what you knew wasn’t the heat of the sun. “Oh...”

The sound of a boat motor in the distance caught your attention. Coming around a bend in the trees was, in fact, a boat, and while you couldn’t make out any individual faces at this distance, the fact that it was headed right towards you, and several of the figures were jumping and waving at you, you could guess that it held all your friends.

“Well, there’s everyone,” you laughed, heading back towards the dock.

Some days later, you were contentedly relaxed in a hammock that had been suspended between two trees in the spacious backyard of the cabin, humming along to a song playing from Ningning’s phone as you half-listened to whatever juicy piece of gossip that the other two were divulging. A cool night breeze passed over your bare arms and legs, pricking up goosebumps in its wake, and you shivered.

“I’m going to grab a sweater or something,” you declared, getting down from the hammock. Picking up your empty drink can from the table nearby, you added, “Not to mention, I’m out of seltzer.”

“Can you see if we have any more chocolate-covered pretzels?” Karina requested.

“Sure.” You grabbed some of the other trash to take in with you.

You passed by the guys playing video games in the living room as you headed for the kitchen, tossing the garbage out first. After throwing on a hoodie from your room, you went back into the living room, fully intending on checking the kitchen for Karina’s snack. Instead, you were met by a desperate, raucous chorus of yells of your name.

“Hm?” You looked up at the guys questioningly, stopping in your tracks.

Mark waved you over fervently. “Come here! We need an even number.”

“What are you guys playing?” You took a hesitant step closer, eyes scrutinizing the game menu.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a button masher, super easy,” Shotaro reassured you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the living room. “Sungchan’s not even half-bad at it.”

“Yeah, you can uh, you can even be on Sungchan’s team,” Hyuck said, exchanging a mischievous grin with a couple of your other friends.

“Okay,” you shrugged, plopping down into the space that Sungchan had made for you between him and the arm of the couch. A controller was pushed into your hand. Karina’s pretzels could wait.

“This moves your character around, this one is to jump, this one is to attack, this one is to shield,” Sungchan quietly explained the controls to you as the others started assigning teams, hands hovering over yours on the controller. “There’s some other special moves, but those are the basics. Just uh, stay away from Hyuck.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Nice hoodie by the way,” he added, much softer.

“Thanks...” You murmured back, well aware that you were wearing his from the car.

“Alright!” Jaemin announced loudly. “Let’s do it!”

Now, you didn’t exactly consider yourself a gamer. In fact, you spent most of the time either running away from the other guys, or at one point, accidentally falling off the level and losing a life all on your own. You couldn’t even tell if you were even really helping Sungchan at all. But it was fun, and you were kind of maybe starting to get a hang of the controls by the end of the round. To your surprise, the two characters that popped up as winners, however, were yours and Sungchan’s.

“We won?” You questioned, looking at Sungchan in surprise.

“Looks like we did,” he confirmed, smiling down at the controller in his hand.

“Hell yeah!” You held a hand up for him to high five.

“Sungchan, what the hell?” Shotaro smacked his arm from his other side.

“Since when have you been good at video games?” Jaemin interjected from the other couch.

“Have you been sucking on purpose this whole time and just decided to reveal that you were good now?” Mark questioned accusatorily.

“Yeah, we were joking when we said he was only half-bad at this game, he’s actually ass at it,” Anton clarified to you, making you roll your eyes at their apparent plan to give you the worst player.

“Sorry Y/N, he’s on my team next,” Hyuck declared, bringing up the character selections and switching Sungchan’s team color to match his own.

“Hey, change that back,” Sungchan said, his voice level but firm.

Hyuck actually stopped in his tracks, looking back at Sungchan with wide eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.

Sungchan switched his team color back to match yours with no interference from the others. You lightly bumped your leg against his as the room chatter started back up. He bumped your leg back.

The next day, everyone went out on a hike. There was a slightly overgrown trail that went around the mountainside, taking lazy twists and turns through the trees. Said greenery provided you with plenty of shade, and concealed the lake below from you so well it almost felt like you had transported elsewhere. The trail was narrow, however, only fitting three people comfortably at its widest points, but usually only two, so your group was spread out thin along it.

Jaemin and Hyuck were up front, arguing about… something that you couldn’t parse out from your place all the way at the back. Turning to Sungchan beside you, you took your water bottle out of the side pocket of the backpack he was wearing. Somehow he had been burdened with most of the group’s supplies, and while you weren’t exactly doing any sort of survivalist stuff out here, you didn’t see why everyone couldn’t at least carry their own water bottles.

Taking a swig from your bottle, you kept it in your hand as you pointed at him accusingly, “You didn’t suddenly get good at that game out of nowhere last night, Sungchan.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I mean…”

“Were you sucking on purpose so nobody’s feelings got hurt?”

“I didn’t suck. I was just sort of… okay.” He tried to explain. “I don’t know if it was on purpose, I guess I just didn’t care if everyone knew that I was the best? I’m just not super competitive, really.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hyuck speechless like that before either.” You laughed at the memory. “You don’t ever stand up for yourself with them like that, do you?”

“It’s not like they bully me or anything…”

“You just go with the flow?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he seemed to relax again at your words.

“I had fun playing on your team last night,” you said, taking another sip. “Win or lose. I’m glad you didn’t go with the flow that time.”

“Hey, hold still?” Sungchan requested, reaching a hand out towards your face.

You froze warily. “What is it? A bug?”

“No, no,” he reassured you, brushing your hair back from one side of your head, then the other. “Did you leave the cabin with only one earring in?”

“Shit, no!” Your hands flew up to clutch at your lobes, immediately feeling that one of them was empty. You looked down at the ground around your feet, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach that it was useless. There was nothing around you but dirt and grass. “Damn it!”

Sungchan made an effort to look under him as well, but came up empty-handed too. “I don’t see anything…”

“Well, damn,” you sighed, dropping your hands back down to your sides. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. Could’ve been my grandmother’s pearls or something instead of a pair of earrings I stole from my freshman roommate.”

“Seriously?” He laughed as you continued down the trail.

“It was an accident! Mostly…” You explained. “We borrowed each other’s stuff all the time, and when we moved out at the end of the year, the earrings ended up in my stuff. I told her I had them and she said I could keep them. Apparently they always made her ears itch anyway.”

“Sucks you lost one, though. I thought the little hearts were really cute.”

“Just like you thought my raggedy old t-shirt was cute?” You snorted.

“Exactly.”

“Why do you get shotgun, Y/N?” Anton complained from the backseat, his voice loud to be heard over the wind.

“Because it’s my car,” Sungchan retorted, his thumb tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “And I said so.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the image of poor Anton and his lanky limbs squished into the middle seat between Shotaro and Mark. “You could’ve stayed at the cabin, Anton.”

“I was bored.” He crossed his arms. “And I thought Sungchan would’ve at least been sympathetic to his fellow long-legged brethren.”

“But the baby always gets the middle seat.” You turned around to pinch his cheek.

“I am not—”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sungchan sighed, looking out the window. “With the way you’re whining right now.”

Anton’s jaw dropped as the other three of you broke into howling laughter.

Soon enough, you arrived at your destination, a natural park with a huge cave system. The main attraction, however, was that one section of the tunnels was so dark that you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

A small family, and field trip for what looked like a summer camp had arrived just before you all, and were put in the same tour group as your friends. You watched from afar with amusement as the counselors put the children into buddy pairs before the tour guide officially began the tour.

“Hey, don’t you teach, Y/N?” Shotaro asked curiously as your own group took up the rear of the tour, nodding towards all the kids.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, the air immediately becoming cooler as you stepped into the caves. “Primary school.”

“Jungchan over here wants to be a teacher too!” Anton informed you cheerily, slapping Sungchan on the shoulder, the sound cracking through the entire cave loudly.

Several heads turned around to look at the source of the noise, and you all looked around at the walls of the cave innocently until they turned forward again. The cave was getting darker and darker, the lights strung up by the park employees getting fewer and further between. Your eyes continued to adjust to the changing light, but your surroundings were becoming less made up of clear objects with definable features and more the vague outline of shapes.

“Oh, really?” You asked mildly, barely concealing the humor in your tone.

“Early childhood education,” he replied calmly, hand sneaking up to pinch your side.

It took everything in you not to squeal as you squirmed away from his hand, elbowing his arm. You could hear the light puffs of his silent laughter next to you. Right as you had lifted your own hand up to retaliate, the tour group came to a stop, everything was pitch black around you, and Sungchan’s hand caught yours, lacing your fingers together. There were no lights in here, and the children’s excited chatter rose as the counselors spoke back to them to confirm that they were still there as well. You held your free hand up in front of your face, and the only way you knew it was there was because you could feel that it was. The only thing your eyes saw was darkness.

“That’s freaky,” Shotaro commented from somewhere behind you.

“What the hell, man?” Mark was somewhere to your other side. “Dude, I can’t see my hand! Just like it said online!”

“Oh! There you are, Shotaro!” Anton breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I didn’t disappear in the five seconds since we walked in here,” Shotaro grunted. “Did you have to practically climb on top of me to confirm that?”

You reached out tentatively towards Sungchan, your hand eventually bumping into his chest. “Ah, found you.”

“Found me,” he echoed quietly.

The tour guide started ushering everyone out of the sector, and as the light started entering your vision again, your fingers unwound from Sungchan’s. The counselor’s voices floated back to you as they took a headcount of all their kids, who were still dutifully holding onto their assigned buddies.

Soft footsteps at the top of the stairs caught your attention, and you looked up from your laptop at the tall figure hovering there awkwardly. You offered Sungchan a soft smile, waving him into the small attic loft space. There wasn’t much up here except the couch that you were on, a narrow table, and a dartboard. The ceiling was so low that Sungchan had to hunch just the slightest to avoid knocking his forehead into the wooden crossbeams.

“Hey.” You pushed yourself up into a proper sitting position on the couch, your computer moving from your stomach to your lap.

“Why aren’t you out with everyone else?” He sat down in the space that you had freed up. The others had all gathered outside around the firepit to roast marshmallows and drink, but you had other things to tend to.

You nodded to the device. “Ah, I had some grading to do.”

“I thought you were on summer break.”

“Tutoring.” You set the laptop aside on the coffee table, even as your eyes caught on the screen fondly. “One of my students, I mean, she doesn’t need it for her grades. But she just loves writing, so her mom pays for sessions like private workshops. I’m working on her newest story right now.”

“How is it?”

“She’s so creative!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “It amazes me every time. She hasn’t quite figured out resolutions yet, still rushes through them once she’s decided she’s done with the exciting part. But she’s gotten a lot better with dialogue. She used to not write it at all, just tell you what characters said, never putting anything in quotes, you know?”

“It’s typed?” He questioned, looking at the word document on your screen.

“Yeah, she has coordination issues, pencils kind of slow her down,” you explained. “She’s working on it in her occupational therapy. But that’s not what this is for. This is to let her be creative. If I forced her to use a pencil, she’d have to stop writing because her hands were done before her brain was done.”

“That... sounds frustrating for her.”

“There’s other options now. I mean, when’s the last time you actually used a pencil in your everyday life?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “...Good point.”

There was a pause as Sungchan just kept looking at you, the moment feeling much like when you were in the restaurant, his dark brown eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting you had now.

“Did you miss me, Sungchan?” You eyed him teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“What did you tell everyone else you were doing when you came looking for me?”

“I didn’t make an announcement or anything.”

“Yeah?” You sat up closer to him, then did a double-take as you noticed a hole in his earlobe. “Hey, I never noticed you had your ears pierced.”

“Only one.” He turned his head to show you the other, unadulterated lobe. “Probably why you didn’t notice, you’ve always been on my other side in the car.”

An idea immediately came to your mind, and you stood up from the couch. “Wait here.”

Traversing through the house, you came back up the stairs with your prize clutched triumphantly in the palm of your hand. You held your closed fist out towards him indicatively. “Here.”

He held his hand out, letting you drop the single red heart stud into it. His eyes widened as he turned it over with a fingertip. “You’re…”

“I washed it, don’t worry.”

Sungchan promptly put the stud in, securing it with the backing and looking up at you again with a delighted, amazed smile.

“Cute,” you commented, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip.

“And what does this mean, Y/N?” He asked slyly.

“What am I going to do with only one earring?” You replied with feigned innocence. “And, I was kind of hoping you’d need help putting it on, since there’s no mirrors in here...”

He leaned back against the couch. “And how exactly would you have helped me put it on?”

“Well, I can’t really see from here, so, I would’ve had to get closer—” You stepped forward, putting your hands on his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his lap. You kept your focus on his face the whole time, watching for any hesitation, any uncertainty, any indication that you should stop. His eyes watched you with rapt attention, big and brown and awe-filled.

“Good?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a hum.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, and your eyes followed the movement, before he answered, “Good.”

“Then I would’ve put the earring in—” You once again outlined the outer shell of his ear, continuing down the line of his jaw. “And probably said something about the adorable little freckle you have on the bridge of your nose that I kind of want to bite.”

You tapped said freckle, high up on his nose, nearly between his brows, and his face split into a grin as he laughed breathily.

“Bite?” He repeated, clearly amused at the idea.

“Mhm.” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck. “You’ve got a very biteable nose, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, the whole nose is biteable, not just the freckle,” he chuckled, settling his hands on your hips.

“Well, more than just the nose.”

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You gasped in feigned shock. “Before our first date?”

“Do I need to ask your hand in marriage first?” He was so close that your noses almost touched now, his question mingling with your answer that came soon after.

“No,” you snickered, letting him seal his lips over yours in the next moment.

“You mauled him.”

Turning around from where you were eating a bowl of cereal, you raised an eyebrow at Hyuck. “Good morning to you too, Hyuck. And nice bedhead.”

He didn’t fix his hair that was sticking up in all directions, coming around to flop into the seat across the table from you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about?” You snorted. Pushing the box towards him, you offered, “Cereal?”

“Care to tell me why Sungchan is covered in hickies and bite marks?”

“Care to tell me how you know that?”

“He sleeps shirtless, don’t try to avoid.”

“Why do you think it was me?”

“He disappeared from the bonfire last night and didn’t return, you didn’t show up at all, he appears the next morning coincidentally looking like he’s been someone’s chew toy. You’re... you.”

You cocked your head at him curiously. “Weren’t you trying to set us up?”

“I was. I still am, kind of,” he sighed. “Like I said, Sungchan’s the nicest guy I know. Don’t... chew him up and spit him out, please.”

“I’m touched you think so highly of me, truly.”

“That didn’t come out right,” he groaned, rubbing his face with two hands. “I meant... Make sure you two are on the same page about what you’re doing and what you want.”

“We are, Hyuck,” you told him quietly.

Hyuck peeked at you over his hands, and based on the crinkles that formed around his eyes, you could perfectly imagine the mischievous grin that was hidden. “So it was you, then?”

Footsteps entered the kitchen then, followed by Sungchan’s voice, deeper with the early hours of the morning, “Oh, morning, Y/N, Hyuck.”

He stopped next to your seat at the end of the table, seeming uncertain of just how close to be to you. He was wearing a longsleeve, which didn’t help much with the few marks on his neck and under his jaw. The red heart stud was still in his ear, which made your chest squeeze and your whole body thrum with happiness.

“Morning, Sungchan,” you said brightly, gesturing to the cereal box. “Cereal? Hyuck didn’t want any.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Sit, I’ll get your bowl.” You stood up, gently pushing him towards the table as you walked by him towards the cabinets.

“Gross, could you not do that in front of me?” Donghyuck made an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Do what?” Sungchan squinted at him in confusion at the same time that you scoffed, “Nobody’s holding you here at gunpoint. Go back to sleep.”

“Maybe I will.” He made a grand display of pushing his chair back and standing up.

“You’ve never been a morning person.” You shook your head at him. “See you in a few hours.”

As he shuffled back out of the kitchen, you returned to your mission of fetching a bowl and the milk, bringing them back to the table for Sungchan. He’d taken the seat next to yours, and you happily plopped back down beside him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, beginning to fix a bowl of cereal for himself.

“Good one sleeping shirtless, by the way. Hyuck had absolutely no questions,” you teased, finger poking one of the hickies facing you.

Sungchan gave you a pointed stare, but made no move to knock your hand away. “Oh and who couldn’t keep her teeth to herself?”

“I told you: You’re biteable.”

He reached up to grab your hand and removed it from where you'd still been messing with the marks you’d left on his throat. Instead of just pushing it away, he brought your joined hands down to rest on his leg. After a beat, he looked up at you, uncertainty in his gaze, as if he were about to belatedly ask permission.

You laced your fingers together, scooting your chair closer to his before picking up your spoon with your free hand.

As the anchor was dropped into the water, there was an excited buzz about the boat, everyone getting ready to get in the water. Hyuck had stopped the boat by a rope swing that was set up in a tree on one of the steep edges of where the mountain met the lake. A few inflatables were tied to the boat so they wouldn’t drift away, and of course, a couple coolers with plenty of drinks were on deck.

“Y/N, can you help me with my sunscreen?” Ningning requested, holding the bottle out to you.

“Ning, I told you to apply it at the cabin,” you sighed, accepting the sunscreen nevertheless as she took her coverup off.

“It’s not my fault we’re currently sharing one bathroom with like five other people!” She pointed out. “I didn’t have time.”

Sudden wolf whistles and dramatic yells from the back of the boat made you snap your head over, anger flooding your body immediately. But you realized that none of them were aimed at you and Ningning. Instead, the guys seemed to all be taunting Sungchan, who had just taken his shirt off, revealing the full extent of the love bites scattered on his skin.

“Dude, did you get mauled by a bear or something?” Mark laughed.

“Or fall down the mountain?” Anton’s eyes were wide as he went to poke one on Sungchan’s shoulder.

Sungchan slapped his hand away. “Personal space?”

“Fall down the mountain after getting mauled by a bear?” Jaemin proposed helpfully, moving behind him as if inspecting a product that he was purchasing at a store. “We got claw marks, guys!”

They all let out teasing cheers, and you could see that Sungchan’s ears were bright red. You shook your head to yourself, going back to helping Ningning with her sunscreen.

She craned her neck to be able to look at you over her shoulder. “Nice one, Y/N.”

“Who, me?” You blinked at her innocently.

“You left that poor boy to deal with those menaces by himself.”

You’d finished up with her sunscreen, handing her the bottle. “One sec.”

Walking over to where the guys were still razzing Sungchan, who now looked prematurely sunburned, you held a hand up to shade your eyes, squinting as you looked off towards the rope swing.

“I bet Shotaro could make it there first,” you commented casually.

“What?!” They all looked over at you, dumbfounded.

“No way!” Anton argued. “I literally used to be a swimmer.”

“But if you’re talking endurance—” Jeno tried to vouch for himself.

“All your big muscles just make you sink, dude,” Hyuck snorted. “You’ve got no buoyancy.”

As they kept squabbling, you were still eyeing the rope swing. “Yeah, but, Taro’s like, halfway there already.”

Their heads whipped around to see that Shotaro had, in fact, been lazily paddling towards the swing all the while they were teasing Sungchan. The guys all rushed to toss off whatever shirts, shoes, hats, or sunglasses they didn’t want to get wet, practically shoving each other in their haste to get in the water and race towards the rope swing. The boat swayed a little with their movements, and you grabbed Sungchan’s arm for stability, the only one of them who hadn’t taken your bait.

Shotaro turned around when he heard all the splashes behind him, confusion turning to momentary panic as they all rushed at him.

“Hurry up! You’re going to lose your head start!” Sungchan yelled out to him.

“What?!” He began backstroking faster. “I didn’t know this was a race!”

Karina was already in one of the inflatables off the back of the boat, and Ningning gracefully dove off the back platform to join in her one of the other ones.

Looking back up at Sungchan, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how perfectly that had worked. He was laughing too, one of his hands dropping to your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Thanks for the save there,” he chuckled, thumb sneaking under the shirt you were wearing to rub circles into the bare skin above your swimsuit bottoms. “Did you put sunscreen on?”

“Back at the cabin,” you confirmed. “Hate to disappoint.”

“You could’ve lied and said no.”

“I am nothing if not an honest and pure soul,” you put a hand over your heart as your words were laced with sarcasm.

Sungchan snickered at this, his smile so bright you could forget about the sun, leaning in even closer to him.

“Sungchan.”

“Mhm?” He looked down at you, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Can I kiss you?”

“In front of everyone?” He gasped, still teasing.

“That’s a little bit the point.” You couldn’t take your eyes off him—so gorgeous it really was unfair. “And also, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What a coincidence—I want to kiss you too.”

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. He immediately responded in turn, his other hand that wasn’t on your hip going to cup your cheek. The sounds of various taunts, cheers, and whistles all faded out behind the roaring in your ears.

It was your last night in the cabin, and you were of course celebrating with one last bonfire. Your group of friends were spread out between the firepit, the hammock, and the other lounge furniture on the spacious deck. You and Sungchan were tucked onto a small loveseat by the table of food, idly chatting as you sipped your drink and he nibbled off the snack offerings in front of you.

The sliding glass door opened behind you, one of your friends walking out from inside the cabin. Glancing up, you saw that it was Mark, his eyes down on his phone screen as he shut the door behind him.

“Those little rolls from Mrs. Han’s restaurant were really good,” Sungchan sighed happily, hand on his stomach.

“There’s still one more,” you pointed out. “Take it.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but you nudged him with your foot insistently.

“Everybody’s already had one. Go ahead.”

Sungchan had just reached forward towards the last roll as Mark walked by, eyes on his phone as he swiped it from the plate. The man next to you just sighed dejectedly, sitting back in his seat.

“Hey, Sungchan was going to eat that,” you called after Mark loudly. Not too rude, just making him aware as he clearly hadn’t been paying attention.

Mark turned around, looking at you two, then down at the roll in his hand in confusion. He offered it back out to Sungchan. “Oh, sorry man, I didn’t realize—”

Sungchan waved him off. “It’s okay, you can have—”

You stood up, walked over, and snatched it out of Mark’s hand. “Thanks, bye.”

Mark paused, as if he were thinking about saying something else, but opted not to, walking over to sit with Jeno and Hyuck by the fire.

You sat back down next to Sungchan and placed it in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sungchan was clearly fighting a smile as he looked down at his feet. He tore the roll in half, offering one half out to you.

You took it gratefully, tapping your half against his in a little cheers before you both simultaneously stuffed the whole thing into your mouths in one go. Looking at him with his puffed-out cheeks, knowing that yours definitely looked exactly the same made you burst out laughing, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth and keep any crumbs in. Sungchan was clearly struggling to not spit out his half-chewed food as he started laughing too, turning away from you and slapping his leg.

When you had finally chewed and swallowed the bread without choking, and composed yourself again, you turned back to Sungchan, still well aware of the faint, smitten smile on your lips. He was already facing you, watching you with a fond sparkle in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a couple crumbs from the side of your mouth with his thumb.

“Oh, thanks.” You habitually wiped the other side of your mouth just in case.

“I’m curious…” He said quietly, grabbing one of your hands to gently play with your fingers. “Have you picked out what we’re doing for our first date yet?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything.” You then added a teasing, “Plus, we have to get home first. Who knows, your car might get another flat on the way back and then we’ll get stranded out here and die.”

He burst into soft chuckles. “Since you won’t be navigating, I think we’ll make it back just fine.”

“I like those odds,” you beamed.

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then murmured by your ear, “I like our odds a lot, I think.”

The next day found you in the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car, wearing his hoodie and humming along to whatever he was playing over the speakers. The car had a full tank of gas, four inflated tires, and the maps app was not in your hands.

“You know, I get it now,” Sungchan spoke into the peaceful quiet abruptly.

You lolled your head over to look at him questioningly. “Get what?”

“Why you were suspicious of me at first.”

“You finally realized how stupidly hot you are?” You snorted, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

“I’m thinking I should’ve been more suspicious of you, actually.” He pinched your cheek right back, and you smacked his hand away. He just laughed, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers over the console.

“Why’s that?”

“We haven’t even been on our first date and I feel like I’ve gone head over heels right down the mountainside.”

You groaned and shook your head. “I was suspicious of you for the wrong reason. You’re not a player or anything, you’re actually too sweet for my own good.”

“Your own good?”

“Yeah, you keep saying shit like that and I’m going to do something crazy like say ‘I love you’ on our first date.”

He laughed, squeezing your hand. “Challenge accepted.”

⤷ masterlist

[corroded-hellfire]

I am humbly requesting Eddie wearing a shirt that says “nerds make the best lovers” and then proving it to bookworm!Reader.

Your request is my command. I hope I have done your idea justice!

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral f!receiving, slight choking, soft dom!eddie, public sex (kinda?)

Words: 2.2k

Eddie struts into your first period English class with Ms. O’Donell, late as usual, and she doesn’t even glance away from the chalkboard she’s scribbling vocabulary words on to acknowledge his tardiness. On instinct, you smile at your boyfriend as he makes his way to his seat near you, but as your eyes scan over his shirt, heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Nerds Make the Best Lovers” his t-shirt claims in bold, gothic-style red lettering on the black tee. Eddie gives you a brazen wink and by the sound of all the snickering coming from students around you, you know other people have read the clothing’s pronouncement as well. Mortified, you bury your face in your hands, only peeking out to see if O’Donnell caught a glimpse of her least favorite student’s shirt. Luckily, O’Donnell gave up reading whatever shit his t-shirts said after her twentieth time or so sending Eddie to the front office for dress code violations. 

Eddie plops down in the seat next to yours and he shoots you another wink as if you hadn’t seen the first one he gave you when he walked in. Refusing to encourage any of this behavior, you don’t look your boyfriend’s way once the entirety of the class.

Once the period ends, however, Eddie won’t let you get away from him that easily. He jogs down the hallway to catch up with you and drapes a heavy arm over your shoulders.

“Where’s the fire, baby?” he asks. “Where ya headed in such a hurry?”

You shake your head in non-response and keep walking down the hallway, not sparing him a glance. Eventually, you come to a section of hallway that’s mostly emptied of people and you turn to face him, your shoes squeaking against the white linoleum floor beneath you at the tenacity of your spin.

“What is with that shirt, Eddie? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“Embarrass you?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. “Baby, I’m just stating a fact. Nerds do make the best lovers. And I’m more than happy to give you a reminder…”

He trails a finger up your arm, and it sends a thrilling shiver down your spine. Any irritation or annoyance instantly melts away at his touch. Your resistance was already futile but Eddie putting his hands on you always seems to shut off any coherent part of your brain.

“A reminder, huh?” you coo, ensnared by his flirtations. 

“That’s right. I’ll show just how good this nerd can make you feel.” 

You decide to hell with it; there’s nothing particularly important going on today. Nothing that you couldn’t afford to miss, anyway. And even if there was? Eddie’s body pressed up against yours is worth a detention or a missed test.

“Should we head out to your van for this demonstration?” you ask. The number of times his old, beat down van has been out in the school parking lot, rocking back and forth from the two of you, is too high to count. Most of the times being while school is still in session.

“No, I’ve got somewhere better in mind.” Eddie tugs you by the wrist, leading you down the hall in the opposite direction. He comes to a halt in front of a familiar door and pulls you into the drama room. It’s abandoned and quiet as Eddie locks the door behind you. There’s some D&D paraphernalia scattered around the room, a few D20s that were left out on the table.

“Hmm, so the ultimate symbolism of your nerdiness, huh?” You tease as you sit yourself down on his throne at the head of the table. The seat is cold beneath you, but you refuse to let it show. 

Eddie stalks over to stand before you and rests a hand on either arm rest of the throne. He lowers his head to meet your gaze with his own challenging one.

“I suppose you think I’m going to kick you out,” he says, referring to the seat. “Not today, my lady. Today…” he lowers himself down to his knees. “Today you just sit back and enjoy my throne while I make you feel good.”

He makes quick work of yanking your jeans and panties off and tosses them somewhere behind him. A strong hand grips each of your calves and spreads your legs wide open, Eddie wasting no time before he’s licking a stripe up your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, fingers digging into the sturdy arm rests at your sides. 

Eddie smirks against your pussy as he begins to flick his tongue against your clit. He knows every one of your little tells and knows just the right speeds and pressures to apply to your bundle of nerves to get you just where he wants you to go.

Your fingers scramble to find purchase on the chair as pleasure floods your body, so Eddie laces one of his hands with yours to ground you. His mouth keeps working against your pussy and you do your best not to grind your hips up to meet his tongue. It’s so tempting but you know it will only draw out Eddie’s teasing in the long run. 

With his free hand, Eddie delicately trails one ringed finger around your entrance, going round and round, never breaching it though. The delicious whines spilling from your lips only encourage him on.

“Shit, you taste so good, baby. God, I love your pussy,” he murmurs from between your legs.

“Eddie,” you whimper desperately, eager for him to use his fingers already. Being a nerd might not necessarily make him the best lover, but being a guitar player does make for a magical experience when he fingers you.

“Mm?” he hums against your core.

“N-Need your f-fing—holy shit, yes.”

Eddie knew what you needed before you even said it. The two of you work so well together, both mind and body, that you’re like separate pieces of the same machine, headed towards the same goal.

Two thick fingers stretch you out, at your request, as Eddie raises his head slightly to suck on your clit. He curls his fingers up and gently brushes over the spot that he knows makes you see stars. Your own fingers tighten on the arms of the throne and your legs tense around Eddie’s head.

“Shit! Fuck, fuck, I’m coming!”

Eddie smirks against your clit as he helps you ride it out, with both his fingers and mouth. He loves watching you as you come down from your high; all out of breath and dewy from a thin layer of sweat. 

The loss of his fingers as he slips them out of you is quickly made okay as you watch him pop them in his mouth as you try and catch your breath. His cocky facial expressions would annoy you if you weren’t feeling so amazing from his damn mouth.

Once he’s licked you from his fingers, he reaches down and fumbles with the handcuff buckle on his belt.

“Made you feel so good and didn’t even take my cock out yet.”

“Wipe that…smirk off your face.” You try to sound assertive, but it falls flat in your blissed out state.

Eddie chuckles and leans in, wrapping one hand around your throat; not tight enough to restrict air, just enough for you to feel the pressure.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be making demands here, sweetheart,” he whispers in your ear. “Pretty sure you’d let me do whatever the hell I want to you right now, won’t you?” Both of you know the answer to that, but when you don’t give a verbal response, Eddie tightens his grip on your throat just slightly. “I said, won’t you?” he growls.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out.

The sound pleases Eddie, and he smiles deviously as he releases your throat. He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek that’s a stark contrast to how he was just handling you.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, smugness clear in his tone.

He grabs your hands and yanks you up out of the throne. An involuntary yelp passes through your lips as he spins the two of you around and backs you up until your bare thighs bump into the table.

“Shirt off. Bra too,” Eddie orders.

You do as he says, Eddie’s eyes taking you in like the prey that you are to him with every move that you make.

Once you’re completely naked, Eddie presses his index finger right in the middle of your chest and gives just enough force for you to get the hint that he wants you to lie back.

The moment you get your ass on the table, large strong hands grab behind your knees and pull you towards the edge, so your back falls flat against the surface and your legs are able to wrap around your boyfriend’s lithe body. He pushes down his black jeans and boxers enough to line himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t push in just yet.

“Say my fucking name, sweetheart,” he says as he leans over you.

“E-Eddie.”

“Louder. I want anyone walking by to know who’s in here making you feel so good.”

“Eddie!”

The man’s grip tightens on your legs and his cock just barely slips into you.

“I said louder. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me or what?”

“Fuck, Eddie!”

He smirks in triumph at the way you scream his name.

“That’s my girl.”

He finally pushes inside of you, agonizingly slowly, his body towering over yours as he thrusts. Each time, he goes a little deeper, his eyes boring right into yours as he moves his hips. 

Your jaw drops open and small gasps escape your lips. You’re not sure what’s hotter: how Eddie’s pounding into you or how he’s staring into your eyes, not once breaking contact. 

Eddie groans as he finally bottoms out.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

No words whatsoever fill your mind as you lose yourself in the feeling of Eddie inside your walls. Your boyfriend notices this as well and another arrogant smirk grows on his lips while he stares down at you.

“Aw, already cock drunk, princess? Not a thought in that pretty little head of yours?”

You want so badly to refute it, but you don’t have the words to do so–only further proving his point.

The cool table feels nice against your back as your skin becomes sticky with sweat. Your hands slide from Eddie’s arms and your fingers grip the edge of the table.

Eddie notices the movement and doesn’t want you holding on to anything that isn’t him, though. His hands slide up your body and he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head.

“Eddie,” you whine.

“Oh, she can speak,” Eddie coos.

“Eddie.”

“What is it, my love?”

“C-Close.”

Eddie holds both of your wrists in one hand while the other one snakes down and presses his thumb against your clit.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie goads. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

“W-Want you to…with me,” you pant out between labored breaths. 

“Don’t worry,” Eddie says with a wry chuckle. “I’m right there with you.”

Eddie might be a complete menace sometimes, knowing exactly how to drive you crazy, but you know him just as well and know how to bring him to the brink. 

“I-Inside,” you pant. “Need you to cum inside me.”

“Jesus,” Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes closed and clenching his teeth as he tries to hold back.

“Please,” you beg.

“Well,” Eddie huffs with a laugh, “since you asked so nicely. Come on, princess. Let go.”

The twitch of Eddie inside of you and the feeling of him filling you up has you arching your back as sparks fly behind your eyelids and ecstasy radiates up your body.

“Eddie, yes.”

“Louder,” Eddie manages as he fucks his load into you.

“Eddie!”

The blissed out feeling from his orgasm and your shouting of his name puts a big, dopey grin on Eddie’s face.

“Shit, princess,” he says with a chuckle as he buries his head in your neck. You giggle as he presses kisses and nips at the skin there.

Eddie doesn’t make a move to get off of you, which you don’t mind one bit. You tangle your fingers in his frizzy locks and press kisses to the side of his head.

“So?” he eventually mumbles against your skin.

“So what?”

Eddie picks his head up and looks at you.

“Do nerds make the best lovers or what?” he asks, eyebrows waggling.

You can’t help but laugh as you nod your head in affirmation.

“Yes, Eddie. You have proven it to me.”

“Mmm, good,” he hums before he goes back to kissing your neck.

“What’re you doing?” you ask as the kisses become more and more intense.

He pulls back to look at you again.

“You really think the best lover is only going for one round?” He scoffs and goes back to kissing your neck.

“Thank God for nerds,” you mumble as your eyes slip closed.