#catch me cramming my friends into this fic

[solar-wing]

⚣ Heroes of You and Me 💧

⚣🌊 A/N → The way you people get series and 20k+ fics out of me needs to be studied. How was a request SUPPOSED to be a one-shot, turn into a whole multi-part fic. Maybe I didn't feel like cramming over 20k words into one fic again. (and look how that went). But lemme me tell you something, cause I warned yall how I feel about writing for IRL characters. If Sky's actor who's name I won't specify for fear of his pr team getting a ping from this and showing it to him ever posts a reaction of him reading THIS or ANY fanfiction, this and ME will disappear off the face of the earth. I am not above going into hiding and living off the land. anyways, enjoy! MUAH 😘 WARNINGS: Slight Canon Divergence | Emotional Angst | Growing Curiosity and Feelings | Slow-Burn (fuck yall cause I hate slow burns but also still love you) | Jealousy |

⚣🌊 Summary → Magic, monsters, and bad decisions—The new fairies just wanted a peaceful first day considering how much everything had changed for them recently, but now they're dodging Burned Ones, losing magical rings, and trying not to die. Welcome to the Otherworld. What else could go wrong? Wait...don't ask that.

⚣🌊 Words → 26.6K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🌊

Sky made his way through the steel gates that led him into the courtyard of Alfea College, the late morning sun casting warm rays across the stone pathways. The campus was alive with the hustle of move-in day, the energy palpable as students reunited, chatted, and navigated their way to their respective dorms. Sky slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in the familiar scent of fresh-cut grass and the distant hum of chatter.

As he surveyed the scene, a familiar sense of unease settled in his chest—a mix of unresolved tensions from last year and the pressure of the responsibilities awaiting him this year. He pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand: getting through another year at Alfea.

‘Another year’, he thought, his gaze sweeping over the bustling scene before him. Despite the familiar surroundings, there was a tight knot of tension in his chest, a lingering unease that he couldn’t quite shake. It could be the anticipation of his new role as a squad captain, which Silva had been kind enough to only inform him about a couple of weeks before the start of the school year. Whatever it was, he pushed it to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

As he walked though the courtyard though, Sky couldn’t help but notice the contrasting scenes around him. All the smiling faces of friends reuniting after a whole three months apart, animatedly talking to each other about their vacations and showing pictures and funny videos on their phones. Then, there were those who weren’t talking to anyone, but taking every moment they could to take a ‘aesthetic’ photo so they could update their Insta stories. That was his generation for you.

Just as Sky started making his way toward the Specialist hall, a few familiar voices called out to him.

"Sky! There he is, our fearless leader!" Timmy’s voice rang out, pulling Sky from his thoughts. He turned to see a group of his old friends waving him over, their faces lit up with excitement.

Sky couldn’t help but smile as he approached them, his unease momentarily lifting. "Hey, guys," he greeted, offering a firm handshake to each of them. "Good to see you."

"Good to see you too, man," Brandon said, grinning widely. "We were just saying how we were wondering when you’d show up. Thought maybe you’d decided to bail on us."

Sky chuckled, shaking his head. "Bail? You know me better than that. Just taking my time this morning."

While they were catching up, Sky’s attention was momentarily drawn away from the conversation as his eyes scanned the courtyard. It was instinctual, almost reflexive—years of training had taught him to be aware of his surroundings at all times. But what caught his eye this time wasn’t a potential threat; it was another student, possibly a Specialist judging by their build, looking very lost.

Without thinking, Sky patted Brandon on the shoulder, interrupting their conversation. "Hold on a sec," he said, his focus shifting entirely to the struggling student.

He started to make his way toward the guy, acting on an impulse of empathy and something else he couldn’t name. He remembered his first day at Alfea, the mix of excitement and nervousness, and how a small gesture of help could make all the difference. As he approached, he was about to call out when he saw someone else reach the guy first—Sam Harvey, an Earth fairy and one of Professor Harvey’s kids.

“Hey, you must be Y/N. I’m Sam,” the Earth fairy greeted with a warm smile, holding his hand out for introduction.

“Nice to meet you, and yep, that’s me. I’m guessing you're the one Headmistress Dowling assigned to show me around?”

As Sky slowed his approach, the realization that his assumption was wrong—that the guy was indeed not a Specialist but a fairy—stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t quite place why he felt a twinge of disappointment, but it was clear Sam had things under control. Just as he was about to turn back to his friends, something else caught his eye—a flash of ginger hair, standing in the middle of the courtyard with her bags. She also looked lost, her gaze scanning the courtyard as if she was waiting for someone.

When no one seemed to come, she grabbed her bags and started walking toward the Specialist Hall.

Sky hesitated for a moment, torn between going back to his friends and helping the girl who looked like she was struggling. The decision came easily enough—his natural instinct to help others always overrode everything else. He quickly started toward the girl, his strides purposeful but not hurried.

As he approached her, Sky noticed the way she was carrying herself—there was a certain determination in her step, but it was undercut by the uncertainty in her eyes as she glanced around. She didn’t seem to notice him at first, too focused on trying to figure out her way.

He didn’t quite know how to stop her and offer his help, so he just went with the first thing that came to mind.

“Wow, you are so lost,” he said, falling into step next to her.

Observational.

“I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance.”

Tactful…maybe?

“The issue is, you’re overcommitted. I mean, you’re essentially running.”

Yeah, there’s no word for this one. Maybe an ice cream truck will fall from the sky and save him. His only hope at this point.

“And now that I’m here, you can’t give me the satisfaction of turning around—”

Of course, throughout this entire questionable interaction, the specialist failed to notice her brows furrowing and the even more tense aura of her body language. Men…

“I don’t need help,” she interjected, saving everyone from witnessing a train wreck. A true hero, this girl is. “But thanks.”

“I don’t remember offering it,” he said with a slightly amused breath. “So presumptuous, you must be a fairy.”

“I am a fairy,” she responded, reluctantly continuing the dialogue while still trying to find where she was supposed to go.

As their conversation continued, neither noticed the approaching figure from behind or the eyes watching them from a distance. As Sky was pointing to the fairy hall, Riven, another Specialist and old friend of Sky’s, walked up to his friend from behind, surprising him.

“Quit perving on the first years,” Riven said with his usual condescending tone.

Sky, used to his friend's antics, wasn’t phased by it but did turn to acknowledge him.

“Riv, just give me one second. Yeah?”

“Why? You gonna chase her?” Riven asked, leaning to the side to look past him.

Sky turned his head to see that indeed, the girl had taken off, heading right for the fairy hall. He let out a disappointed sigh, though it wasn’t as bad as the one he felt earlier, which he was still confused about.

“Nope,” he replied before his friend tackled him with a hug. The two boys laughed and caught up while meeting up with the other Specialists and making their way over to the training grounds by the pond.

Sky and Riven made their way to the training grounds by the pond, the sounds of their laughter fading as they approached the more serious atmosphere of the Specialist area. The training grounds were a familiar sight, with well-worn paths leading to various stations where students practiced everything from hand-to-hand combat to more specialized weapons training.

As they entered the area, Silva, the head of the Specialists, was already there, barking orders at a group of first-year students who were fumbling through a basic drill. His sharp eyes caught sight of Sky and Riven, and he gave a nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the recruits.

“Looks like the newbies are getting a warm welcome,” Riven commented, his tone laced with sarcasm as he watched a particularly nervous student nearly drop his weapon.

“Silva’s always had a way of making sure everyone knows what’s expected,” Sky replied, his gaze shifting to the group. “We were all in their shoes once.”

“Yeah, but some of us didn’t look like we were about to wet ourselves,” Riven shot back with a smirk.

Sky chuckled, but his focus was already shifting. He had a responsibility to these students now, not just as a fellow Specialist but as their squad captain. The weight of it settled more heavily on his shoulders with each passing moment, but he knew better than to let it show.

“Let’s get warmed up,” Sky suggested, nodding towards the sparring rings where a few other upperclassmen were already engaged in drills.

Riven raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on to Sky’s shift in tone. “You’re all business today, aren’t you?”

“Just focused,” Sky replied, his voice steady. “It’s going to be a long year.”

Riven shrugged, though he didn’t argue. “Alright, let’s see if you’ve still got it, Captain.”

Did anyone else catch that foreshadowing? Why did that feel like foreshadowing? Uh uh, nope. Take it back, take it back right now!

As Silva continued to give introductory speeches and expectations to the first-years, the rest of the returning Specialists were all warming up, getting back into rhythm after what felt like a long summer. The familiar sounds of weapons clashing, feet shuffling against the ground, and the occasional grunt of effort filled the air, creating a symphony of discipline and focus.

Sky took a deep breath, letting the energy of the training grounds settle over him. This was where he thrived—in the midst of the action, surrounded by the familiar rhythm of drills and the unspoken camaraderie among his fellow Specialists. The weight of his new role as squad captain was still there, but it felt more manageable now, woven into the fabric of his responsibilities.

Riven, on the other hand, seemed content to stretch out the pre-drill banter for as long as possible. He gave Sky a sidelong glance, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “So, Captain, any big plans for how you’re going to whip these new recruits into shape?”

Sky rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You know Silva’s got that covered. I’m just here to make sure they don’t trip over their own feet too much.”

“Good luck with that,” Riven quipped, his tone light, though his eyes flicked over to the first-years with a more serious glint. “Looks like we’ve got a few who might need a miracle to make it through the first week.”

While they continued sparring with each other, Riven found moments to keep teasing Sky—not only about his new role but also about the ginger-haired girl he caught him with in the courtyard. A joke about Sky being smitten after one chat, and another about how gingers are amazing shags.

Classy, Riven. Classy.

But, of course, Sky, ever the romantic, couldn’t help but feel there was something about her. Yet, his mind couldn’t seem to stay away from the fairy he had been approaching before Sam stepped in.

After their last spar ended with Sky knocking Riven on his butt, they decided to call it. Well, more like Riven decided to skip the rest of the session to go have a smoke in the woods, asking Sky to distract his ‘aggro father figure’ so he didn’t get caught—and thus expelled.

Again, very classy, Riven. Please note the extreme sarcasm.

Though he hadn’t planned to, Sky ended up doing exactly as Riven asked when Silva pulled him into an impromptu spar, using him as an example of what first-years could become, legacy admissions or not, if they showed up and did the work. But then, one of the students had to chuckle, and now they were all getting a vivid story about how Silva lost his father to a Burned One when he was only ten years old.

No one could imagine what it was like for a 10-year-old boy to watch the light and life drain from his father’s body—then to be the one to put their parent down, knowing it was either them or you. A few of the students bowed their heads, trying not to appear affected or ‘weak’ on their first day. But it was understandable why they would be.

Burned Ones had been part of the Otherworld for as long as anyone could remember. They were creatures with humanoid figures that moved faster than a car and were just as ruthless as wild animals. Their charred and blackened appearances looked as if they had just walked out of a raging fire, somehow still alive, but burnt to a crisp, with cracks that glowed like embers, revealing the fiery torment that raged within them. Their limbs were long and skeletal, their fingers ending in claws sharp enough to tear through flesh and bone. But it was their faces that truly terrified—hollowed, with sunken eyes that glowed with a sickly, menacing light, and mouths filled with jagged teeth, ever ready to rend and consume.

The Burned Ones were more than just monsters—they were the stuff of nightmares, their very existence etched into the collective fear of society. Some said they were the remnants of an ancient curse, while others believed they were born from dark magic, a spell that left them behind as twisted remnants of the souls consumed by it. Their appearance haunted the minds of those who dared to venture too close to the shadowed places they roamed.

In every village, town, and city across the realms, the story of the Burned Ones had been passed down through generations. It was a tale told with hushed voices around campfires, a warning to the young and old alike. The Burned Ones were said to be the vengeful spirits of those who had fallen to the darkest depths of magic, their bodies scorched and twisted by the flames of their own corruption. They were symbols of dark times, death, and destruction—a reminder of the consequences of straying too far into the forbidden realms of the magical world. Parents would tell their children to behave, to stay within the bounds of what was known and safe, lest they suffer the same fate as those who became like the ones they feared.

As Silva so beautifully (or questionably and concerningly) put it to Dane, the first-year Specialist who dared chuckle, “Be thankful you’ve never seen a Burned One. But if you do, pray that it kills you, so the ones you love will not have to.”

The other first-years all looked a bit put off—nervous, terrified, or finding something far off to focus on instead. It was clear Silva’s story had shaken them. Dane, who had initially met Silva's gaze with unflinching defiance, now held a stance that communicated fear despite his best efforts to hide it.

Was it a bit extreme? Maybe. But it was also unnecessary.

No one has seen a Burned One in years. Yeah, they’ve got the protective barrier, but if the last sighting was more than a decade ago, then what’s all the fuss about?

Just as Silva finished his tale, a scream echoed from the forest, cutting through the tension like a knife. Riven.

It’s always fucking Riven…

The tension from the training grounds lingered in the air, following Sky as he headed back toward his dorm in the Specialists' Hall with his friend, who was a bit more shaken up than he’d liked to admit, yet still trying to act as if he was fine. Whatever he saw was enough to spark a wildfire of rumors, spreading to every corner of Alfea, and it wasn’t long before the news traveled to the heart of the school—the Headmistress’s office.

Y/N stood outside Headmistress Farah Dowling’s office, the cool stone walls of Alfea surrounding him like a protective barrier. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the meeting ahead. His thoughts were a whirlwind, full of the uncertainties that had plagued him since the decision to come to this school, and even before that.

The office door creaked open as Y/N hesitated, a warm voice beckoning him inside.

“Come in, Y/N,” the Headmistress called, her tone gentle yet authoritative.

Y/N stepped into the office, taking in the room’s comforting atmosphere. Shelves lined with ancient tomes and magical artifacts adorned the walls, while the large stained glass window behind Farah’s desk let in the soft, natural light of the morning sun. Farah herself sat behind her desk, her expression calm, yet her eyes held a depth that made Y/N feel as though she could see straight through to the core of him.

“Please, have a seat,” she offered, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Y/N nodded, moving to sit down, his movements slightly stiff from nerves. As he got settled in the seat, waiting for the Headmistress to begin, the weight of everything hit him hard. He thought about Sam, his new roommate and mentor, and how, despite his helpfulness, Y/N still felt like a fish out of water. Sam had been kind and welcoming, showing him around and making sure he didn’t get lost, but there was still an overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity.

His thoughts drifted to the other students he’d seen around campus—their easy smiles, their confident strides. They all seemed to belong here, like they’d been doing this their whole lives. Y/N, on the other hand, felt like he was constantly on the verge of tripping over his own feet. What if they found out he didn’t belong here? What if they discovered he was just an outsider pretending to be something he wasn’t?

He remembered walking past the training grounds, seeing a few students already practicing. Their movements were fluid, confident, like they were born with swords in their hands. Strangely enough, it reminded him of home for a moment, but then, he remembered these guys were using swords, not guns, and once again, he felt out of place. He could control water, sure, but combat? Strategy? He’d only ever learned those things from his dad, and even then, they were more about survival than thriving in a place like this.

But he was here now, and there was no turning back. He had to make this work. He had to prove—to himself more than anyone—that he could belong here, that he could make something of himself at Alfea.

The silence stretched for a moment as the Headmistress sorted through files before finally speaking, breaking the deafening quiet.

“How was your trip? Painless, I hope?” she asked.

Y/N went to respond, though his words seemed to get caught in his mouth, thinking back to the ‘convenient’ location Miss Dowling had instructed for him and his father to travel to. Close enough to where they resided, but far enough to hide from any prying eyes.

Y/N forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “It was... fine,” he replied, his voice betraying the turmoil just beneath the surface. The journey to Alfea had been anything but painless—not in the physical sense, but in the emotional weight it carried. The memory of his father standing in the middle of the clearing while he traveled through the magical gateway Miss Dowling had set up for him lingered in his mind. The man who had raised him, taught him everything he knew, and kept him and his secrets safe, had watched him leave. It felt a little too surreal and heart-aching for Y/N’s taste.

It was like the feeling of being left behind, only this time around, he was the one leaving and not the one being left. And he wasn’t sure he knew how to cope with that.

Of course, his dad, tough as nails, didn’t shed any tears, but it was still clear as day how hard it was on him too, seeing Y/N step through that gateway, giving him a soldier’s salute as a final goodbye before the doorway closed behind him.

As much as Y/N wanted to be here—needed to be here—the thought of leaving his father behind gnawed at him. His dad had been his anchor, his rock, and now he was an unknown number of miles away, alone. Y/N’s chest tightened with the familiar pang of guilt, the same guilt that had clung to him since the day he’d agreed to come to Alfea.

He remembered the look in his father’s eyes as they said their goodbyes—a mixture of pride, worry, and something else that Y/N couldn’t quite place. It was as if his father knew this was the right thing to do, but it didn’t make it any easier for either of them. The memory of his dad’s last words echoed in his mind: “You’ve got this, kid. I’ll be here when you come home.”

Got what, though? Y/N didn’t even know what he was supposed to be ready for. All he knew was that he had to learn control—real control—over his powers before they controlled him. He could still remember the floodwater rushing through the halls, the panic in his father’s eyes as he tried to contain the situation. And the fear—Y/N’s own fear that he could have hurt someone, that he could have hurt his dad.

Yeah, so much for painless.

Y/N took a deep breath, forcing a more convincing smile onto his face as he looked up at Farah. “It was definitely an experience,” he said, trying to infuse some lightness into his voice. “The, uh, magical gateway was a nice touch. Makes traveling feel a bit more... grand.”

Farah smiled gently, but Y/N could see the understanding in her eyes. She wasn’t fooled by his attempt at humor, and it made him feel a strange mix of comfort and vulnerability.

“I’m glad the journey went smoothly,” Farah replied, her tone warm but measured. “I know leaving home is never easy, especially under such... unusual circumstances.”

Y/N nodded, his smile fading slightly as he looked down at his hands, which were clenched in his lap. “Yeah, it’s been... a lot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “I’ve never been away from home or at least my dad like this. And with everything that happened, it’s hard not to feel...”

“Out of place?” Farah offered gently.

Y/N looked up at her, surprised by how easily she seemed to understand. He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Like I’m in over my head.”

Farah leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady and reassuring. “It’s perfectly normal to feel that way, Y/N. Alfea is a place of learning, but it’s also a place of growth. You’re not expected to have all the answers right now, or to have everything figured out. That’s why you’re here—to learn, to grow, and to discover your own path.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her words hitting closer to home than he expected. He wanted to believe her, wanted to feel like he could find his place here. But the weight of his powers, the fear of what he could do if he lost control again, was a constant shadow hanging over him.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Farah’s expression softened even more, and she reached out, resting her hand lightly on his. “You won’t, Y/N. I can see the strength in you, even if you can’t see it yourself yet. It’s okay to be afraid, but don’t let that fear hold you back. You’re here because you have potential, and we’re going to help you reach it and refine it.”

Y/N felt a lump form in his throat, and he nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Farah’s kindness, her unwavering belief in him, was something he wasn’t used to. It made him want to try, to push through the fear and doubt, if only to prove her right.

“Thank you, Headmistress,” he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion.

Farah gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “You’re welcome, Y/N. You can think of Alfea as your new home. You have people here who want to help you, who want to see you succeed. Don’t be afraid to lean on them when you need to.”

Another moment of silence passed between them, with Y/N rubbing his hands up and down his legs to stir his nerves.

“I trust Sam has been treating you well, yes?” Farah asked.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. “Yeah, he’s been great. Really helpful, showing me around and making sure I don’t get lost.”

Farah smiled at that, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. Sam is one of our most dependable students. He’s Professor Harvery’s son who you’ll meet when taking your potions, botany, and natural magics courses. I figured he’d be a good fit to help you adjust.”

Y/N offered a small smile in return. “He’s definitely made things easier. It’s just... a lot to take in, you know?”

“I can imagine,” Farah replied, her expression softening. “It’s a big change, but you’re handling it well. And remember, you have people like Sam—and me—here to support you.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit of the tension in his chest ease. “Thanks, Headmistress. That means a lot.”

Farah gave him an encouraging smile before leaning back in her chair. “Now, let’s talk about what you can expect this year.”

Y/N straightened up slightly, eager to shift the conversation toward something more concrete. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about classes and... well, everything really. I want to make sure I’m prepared.”

Farah nodded, understanding the unspoken concerns in his words. “Of course. Your schedule has been tailored to help you develop your skills while also giving you a solid foundation in the broader aspects of magical education. You’ll start with the basics, learning how to use your magic slowly, but safely in a controlled environment. And, to reiterate as I did with the student I had right before you, when I say slowly, I do mean it. Magic can be dangerous and I don’t want you to cause yourself any harm in trying to prove something. But, I do believe you’ll find the subjects we have laid out for you not only challenging but also rewarding.”

Y/N listened intently, absorbing the information. He appreciated the Headmistress’s approach—firm but understanding. It was clear that she valued safety and caution, which was something Y/N could respect, especially given his own fears about his powers.

Farah continued, “You’ve already demonstrated a remarkable degree of mastery for someone your age. That’s not something we see often, especially with powers as complex as yours.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, not expecting the compliment. “Thank you. My dad... he’s been a big help. He helped me learn how to control my powers enough from a young age to hide them for obvious reasons,” Y/N nervously laughed, but Farah’s warm smile kept him at ease. “He used a lot of techniques he learned from the military. Breathing exercises, disciplinary lessons, staying calm under pressure... it’s all pretty much drilled into me. No pun intended.”

Farah’s eyes softened with understanding. “Your father sounds like a wise man. It’s clear he’s done an excellent job helping you harness your abilities. Water fairies like yourself often have been known to struggle with control, given the fluid and ever-changing nature of water itself. But you’ve managed to find a balance.”

Y/N looked down at his hands, which had finally unclenched. The memories of his father’s training sessions flashed through his mind—hours spent practicing, focusing, and learning to control the water that flowed through him like second nature. “He just wanted to make sure I didn’t put anyone... or myself at risk.”

“And he succeeded,” Farah smiled warmly, a sense of reassurance in her gaze. “You’ll also have regular meetings with me to discuss your progress and address any concerns. And you can always reach out if you need help with anything.”

Y/N was about to respond when the door to the office burst open, startling both of them. A Specialist student, out of breath and with a look of urgency on his face, stood in the doorway. Farah immediately tensed, her calm demeanor shifting to one of alertness.

“Headmistress, I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s been an incident in the forest,” the student panted. “ Professor Silva asked me to inform you immediately.”

Farah’s eyes narrowed slightly, her mind clearly processing the information quickly. She rose from her seat, her authority evident in the way she carried herself.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice steady but laced with concern.

“I’m not sure, but Mr. Silva said it was urgent and asked for you and Professor Harvey to come quickly. In the forest near the training grounds.”

Farah’s expression grew more serious as she turned to Y/N. “Y/N, we’ll have to continue this conversation later. For now, I need you to stay in the main building and avoid the forest. I’ll have Sam meet you to help you get settled into your dorm.”

Y/N stood up as Farah did, the tension in the room palpable. He felt a strange mix of anxiety and curiosity at the mention of the incident in the forest, but he knew better than to pry.

“Yes, Headmistress,” Y/N replied, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest, his discipline from living on a military base immediately kicking in as a response to the headmistress’s authoritative tone.

Farah nodded, offering him a reassuring smile despite the urgency in her eyes. “Good. I’m sure everything will be fine, but it’s best to be cautious. Stay close to the main building and try to relax for the rest of the day.”

Well, that was a bit ironic considering she looked anything but relaxed herself.

As she grabbed her coat from the stand near the door, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in her demeanor. Gone was the gentle, nurturing headmistress; in her place stood a leader, focused and ready to handle whatever was waiting in the forest. The transformation was striking, and for a moment, Y/N felt a mix of admiration and a touch of intimidation. It was a reminder that, beneath the warmth, Farah Dowling was a woman who commanded respect and authority in a world that demanded both.

Y/N nodded, offering a small, appreciative smile. “I will. Thank you, Headmistress.”

Farah gave him one last nod before slipping out of the office, her coat billowing slightly as she moved with purpose down the corridor. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Y/N alone in the quiet office.

As Farah left the room, Y/N lingered for a moment, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over him. The urgency of the situation in the forest hung in the air, but there was something else, too—a sense of unease that he couldn’t quite shake. He knew he had to follow the headmistress’s instructions, but the curiosity gnawed at him. What could be so urgent that it pulled her away from their meeting?

Y/N let out a slow breath, reminding himself that it wasn’t his place to get involved, not yet anyway. He was still the new kid here, barely even unpacked, and already there was so much to take in. His thoughts flicked back to Sam, who had been nothing but helpful since his arrival. Maybe if he found Sam, he could get some guidance on what to do next, or at the very least, some company to distract him from the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling.

He glanced at the door, knowing he should probably try to find his way back to his dorm. But without Sam around to guide him, it felt like navigating a maze. He couldn’t remember the exact turns they’d taken earlier, and the thought of wandering aimlessly through the hallways didn’t exactly appeal to him.

After a brief moment of indecision, Y/N decided it might be worth exploring a bit. If he could find his way back to the dorm on his own, it would be a small victory—proof that he was capable of figuring things out here, even without someone holding his hand.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself, stepping out into the hallway. “Time to see if I can actually find my way around this place.”

He took a deep breath and started down the corridor, hoping he’d get lucky and run into someone familiar—or at the very least, a sign pointing him in the right direction.

“Who actually saw the Shepherd’s body?” Terra, an Earth Fairy and Sam’s sister, asked as she held her beverage, talking with two of her freshly acquainted suitemates, Aisha and Musa. Her usual bright tone was tinged with unease, the curiosity and morbid speculation threading through the conversation like a dark undercurrent. “Maybe he was just old. People get old, die. We all die.”

“That old-age decapitation really sneaks up on you,” Musa quipped, a dry laugh escaping her as they lingered near the snack table at the orientation party. The lively atmosphere clashed with the darker topic swirling around the room, the buzz of gossip overshadowing the usual excitement of the new school year.

The air felt thick with rumors. The discovery of the Shepherd’s body, mutilated and left in the forest just outside the magical barrier, had set the school abuzz. Headmistress Dowling had tried to keep things under wraps, hoping to prevent a panic, but apparently, she didn’t hope hard enough. The news had spread faster than wildfire, twisting through the student body and growing more sinister with each retelling.

“Happened to my nan right in the middle of Bingo,” Aisha added with a grin, clutching a churro stick as she joined the dark humor. “Just... thwop, thwop, thwop. Down the table.” She mimed a head rolling off, her satirical tone not helping much to veil the subtle tension beneath still.

Musa laughed, a sharp burst of sound that cut through the unease for the earth fairy, though she remained quiet. As they continued their conversation, it was in this moment that Y/N strolled into the party. He glanced around, taking in the lively scene, but the undercurrent of tension still being unmistakable. He wasn’t immune to the rumors either; whispers about the dead Shepherd had reached him not long after he left his meeting with the Headmistress.

As his eyes scanned the room, he spotted Sam standing on the other side of the room closer to another beverage table, chatting with a few other students. Y/N weaved through the crowd, nodding to a few faces he recognized from his earlier tour around campus, but feeling that familiar sense of being an outsider in a crowd where everyone else seemed to belong.

“Y/N!” Sam called out as soon as he spotted him, waving him over. “There you are! Glad you made it.”

Y/N offered a small smile, grateful for the warmth in Sam’s greeting, even if the unease from the ongoing gossip lingered in his mind.

“Yeah,” Y/N responded with a small smile, though his thoughts were elsewhere. “Got a bit lost coming from the Headmistress’ office but I made it. I was gonna go back to the dorm but I’d figured I’d check it out.”

"Good call. Everyone's here tonight." Sam gestured around at the buzzing party, cups in hand, snacks being passed, though there was still a murmur beneath it all—a sense of unease they couldn’t quite shake off.

Just then, Terra approached, her expression somewhere between cheerful and overwhelmed, as if she didn’t know where to go. Which, was a bit weird considering both her and Sam practically grew up around Alfea. Her warm demeanor returned quickly, though, as she saw her brother standing with Y/N. Sam immediately gestured toward her as she approached.

"Y/N, meet my sister, Terra. Terra, this is Y/N, my new roommate.”

Y/N extended his hand with a polite smile. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too!” Terra responded brightly, shaking his hand with enthusiasm. “Sam’s told me a bit about you. I hope he hasn’t scared you off yet.”

Y/N chuckled lightly. “Nah, not yet. He’s been a good guide.”

“Good,” Terra said, still holding onto a friendly smile. “I know Alfea can be a bit overwhelming at first. Especially with... you know, everything going on.”

There was an unspoken understanding between them—everyone knew what she was referring to. Y/N gave a slight nod, sensing the weight of what had happened in the forest still hanging over the party. Even though Terra was trying to keep things light, he could tell she wasn’t as carefree as she appeared.

“Everything alright, Terra?” Sam asked sensing his sister’s somewhat tense and despondent mood.

Terra looked a little caught off guard at the question, trying to keep her cheerful demeanor up, but both Sam and Y/N could see through it.

“Oh, I’m good. Just a little early roommate drama, but nothing to worry about. Joys of having five girls in one space.”

Sam raised a brow, a knowing smile playing at his lips. “You mean to tell me you’ve already started trouble? And here I was thinking it’d take at least a week before you drove someone mad.”

Y/N noticed how Terra tensed at the jab. On the surface, it was harmless, the kind of playful sibling banter Y/N had seen between others plenty of times. But something about the way Terra’s smile faltered—how her fingers tightened just a bit around the rim of her glass—hinted at a deeper insecurity. He couldn’t quite place it, but it was as if she was trying too hard to brush it off. Maybe it was the pressure of being likable, of wanting to fit in with her new roommates, that made her so self-conscious.

From what Y/N could tell, Terra seemed like the type who wanted to go out of her way to please everyone around her. That kind of eagerness could easily come across as overbearing to the wrong people. He had seen it before—people who bent over backward to make others happy but ended up standing on shaky ground themselves. Maybe her need to fit in made her more vulnerable to criticism or, worse, outright rejection.

He could see Sam pick up on the shift as well, though his smile remained teasing. "Isn’t Stella in your suite?" Sam asked suddenly, his tone seemingly casual but loaded with implication. Y/N didn’t miss the way Terra’s face fell for just a second—too brief to be obvious to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. The name "Stella" alone seemed to strike a deeper chord.

Y/N's curiosity piqued. He hadn’t met everyone at the school yet, and the way Terra reacted made him wonder who exactly this Stella was. He could sense there was something more to the question, something beneath the surface that Terra wasn’t saying.

“Stella?” Y/N asked, tilting his head slightly. “Who’s that?”

Terra hesitated, glancing between Y/N and Sam before finally answering. “Stella’s... well, she’s the Crown Princess of Solaria. You know, the realm that Alfea’s in.”

Y/N’s brows raised at that. “A princess? Seriously?”

Terra nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, seriously. She’s... well, she’s royalty, so she’s got that whole ‘above-it-all’ vibe, I guess. She’s in my suite with Aisha, Musa, and Bloom.”

Y/N could sense there was more she wasn’t saying—maybe something about the way Stella acted, or the dynamic between the roommates. Still, he didn’t press. “Sounds intense,” he said instead, trying to keep things light.

“You could say that.” Terra let out a soft laugh, though it sounded a little forced. Her eyes flickered for a moment, as if debating whether to continue. “She’s kind of... used to getting her way, I guess.” Terra hesitated, her gaze briefly shifting to the side before she added, “And then, there’s her history with Sky…”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Terra’s expression shifted, her eyes widening slightly as if she realized she’d said too much. She bit her lip, clearly regretting bringing it up, and quickly glanced at Y/N, gauging his reaction.

Y/N blinked, intrigued by the new information. He didn’t know who Sky was, but judging by the way Terra said it, it seemed like a complicated situation. “Sky?”

“Yeah, Sky’s a Specialist,” Sam chimed in, filling the gap. “Top of the class, actually. He’s… well, kind of Alfea’s golden boy. Everyone looks up to him.” Sam’s expression shifted slightly, as if even he had mixed feelings about the guy.

Y/N nodded slowly, processing the new information. A princess and the top Specialist—there was definitely more to unpack there, but he decided to leave it for another time. Instead, he turned back to Terra, offering her a small, encouraging smile. “Well, it seems like you’re holding your own, right? Can’t be easy.”

Terra seemed to relax a little at that, her smile becoming a bit more genuine. “Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s just... new, you know?”

“Oh yeah,” Y/N said with a chuckle, thinking about his own recent arrival. “I definitely know a thing or two about being new.”

Terra’s mood seemed to lift at that, her smile growing a little brighter. Sam, noticing the shift in his sister’s demeanor, seemed pleased to see her returning to her usual cheerful self.

“Well, since you are new, and I’m positive Sam didn’t show you nearly enough of Alfea for you to know your way around,” Terra began, her voice taking on a teasing lilt, “why don’t I give you a proper tour? We can explore a bit more of the party. There’s so much you haven’t seen yet.”

Sam shot her a mock-offended look. “Hey! I think I did a pretty decent job as a tour guide, thank you very much.”

Terra raised an eyebrow, her expression dripping with playful skepticism. She turned to Y/N, clearly setting up her next move. “How many times have you gotten lost already?”

“Twice,” Y/N admitted, flashing a sheepish grin. Sam immediately threw his hands up in exaggerated frustration, his face contorting into a look of mock betrayal.

“See?” Terra smirked triumphantly, turning back to Sam before looking at Y/N. “I rest my case.”

Y/N chuckled, shooting an apologetic glance toward his roommate. “Sorry, Sam.”

Sam clutched at his chest as if wounded, putting on a show of hurt. “Go on then, leave me behind. Abandon your proper tour guide. I’ll just be here… wallowing.”

Terra shook her head, clearly amused, as she gently tugged Y/N along. “You’ll be fine, drama queen.”

Y/N gave Sam an apologetic wave, mouthing ‘Sorry’ again as they moved further into the crowd, Sam waving him off with a faux-injured expression that quickly turned into a playful grin.

Sam watched as Terra tugged Y/N further into the crowd. “Just don’t let her talk your ear off about plants,” Sam called after them. “I’ve heard it all before.”

“Oh, shut up!” Terra threw back at her brother, laughing now.

Across the party, Sky stood casually by a pillar, his eyes scanning the crowd of new and returning students as they mingled and introduced themselves to one another. Though his posture was relaxed, his mind was far from idle—people-watching was something of a habit at these events, and tonight was no exception.

Yet, despite the throng of lively faces, his gaze kept drifting back to a familiar figure: the new arrival he’d seen earlier. He couldn’t quite place why, but something about this fairy had captured his attention. As he watched them walk off with Terra, a flicker of curiosity tugged at him.

Before Sky could think too much about it, a voice snapped him out of his quiet observation.

“This is a lot of people,” came the familiar voice of the red-haired fairy he had tried to assist earlier.

Sky’s head snapped around, his gaze falling on the fairy who’s name he learned to be Bloom. A smile pulled at his lips as she approached, chuckling softly.

“What? You don’t have parties in California?” Sky played along, pretending not to remember their earlier conversation. There was something playful in the way he said it, but his focus remained split—part of his mind still on the new fairy and his curious departure with Terra.

“Oh, he remembers!” Bloom quipped back, her own smile matching his as she tugged her jacket a little closer.

“Oh, impressed?” Sky chuckled, his tone light as he tried to push thoughts of Y/N out of his head, if only for a moment. He offered Bloom a soft smile, though there was an undeniable flicker of distraction in his eyes.

For a brief moment, there was a comfortable silence between them, the hum of the party surrounding them like background noise. But Sky’s attention was tugged back to Bloom as she gestured to the crowd.

“Where can I go that’s the opposite… of this?” Bloom asked, her voice lowering as her gaze flicked toward the noisy party. “What’s outside?”

Sky blinked, her question catching him off guard. “What, beyond the Barrier?” he asked, incredulity creeping into his tone. His mind raced slightly, trying to figure out if she was serious.

“Mm-hmm,” Bloom responded with a nod, her curiosity clearly piqued.

Sky couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, depending on rumors, wolves, bears… or something much scarier.”

He expected that to be enough to dissuade her, but Bloom didn’t even flinch.

“But no people?” she asked, cutting straight to the point. Her gaze flicked back to him, searching for an answer.

Sky hesitated, his posture stiffening slightly as the weight of his concern settled over him. “Um…” He didn’t really want to let her go out there alone, especially with the tension in the air since the discovery in the forest. Was it his place to offer?

“Perfect, thanks,” Bloom nodded quickly, turning to leave without a second thought.

“Wait,” Sky blurted out, stepping forward and stopping her without actually touching her. “At the risk of, um... mansplaining, it is dangerous outside right now. You probably shouldn’t go alone.”

Bloom’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curving into a smirk as she threw back, “Are you offering to escort me?”

Sky’s smile turned slightly sheepish. He hadn’t meant it as an invitation, not really. But as she said it, the words hung in the air between them, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt that this interaction had gone in a direction he hadn’t anticipated.

“Is that what this is? It’s not the worst pickup line,” Bloom scoffed, her chuckle half-masked by something deeper, though her amusement was clear.

“It wasn’t a line,” Sky said, raising a brow, his voice casual but firm. “Trust me?”

Bloom’s expression softened, though she wasn’t quite ready to let her guard down. “Hm. I just met you, but maybe one day I will.”

They locked eyes for a brief moment, a quiet pause settling between them. Sky’s gaze lingered on Bloom, but in the back of his mind, an unspoken curiosity remained—one that drew him back to the quiet stranger who had caught his attention earlier that day. Why his attention and focus kept seeming to rush back to this stranger who he hadn’t even properly met was a bit perplexing but nothing he felt he needed to dissect.

But even if he wanted to, he couldn’t dwell on it any further, as another familiar voice broke through the moment.

“Hey, Sky. Can we talk?” Stella’s voice was light, but there was an edge to it, something demanding his attention.

Sky tore his gaze away from Bloom, his expression shifting as he turned to face Stella. His shoulders stiffened slightly, a hint of frustration creeping in. He glanced back at Bloom, only to see her taking the opportunity to slip away.

Bloom didn’t waste a second, skedaddling into the crowd, leaving Sky standing there with a faint sense of disappointment—and maybe even a little agitation. He sighed, watching her disappear from sight as Stella stepped closer. And while his attention should’ve been fully on Stella by now, part of him still lingered elsewhere, in thoughts of Y/N.

With a slight exasperated breath, he stepped over to face the Princess of Solaria, taking the orange beverage she held out for him in silence with no reaction, though he didn’t drink it, rather opting to wait for her to speak. He could already feel the tension that always seemed to follow their interactions.

"I haven't seen you all day," Stella commented, her tone light but with an underlying edge, something Sky recognized all too well.

“Summer, Stella. All summer,” Sky replied, his voice carrying an exasperated note as he let out a breath. His expression reflected the weariness of someone who had dealt with this dynamic for far too long.

Stella tilted her head, a carefully controlled smile playing on her lips. “You know that girl you were talking to? Bloom? Yeah, she’s my suitemate.” Her words were laced with a mixture of casual observation and thinly veiled warning, though she tried to play it cool.

Sky’s brow furrowed slightly as he met her gaze. “So, what does that mean, Stel? That I can’t talk to her?” He knew where this conversation was heading, but he wasn’t interested in playing along.

“I didn’t say that,” Stella quickly retorted, her voice deceptively sweet, though Sky could feel the tension building beneath her words.

He stared at her for a beat, then sighed, pushing the conversation to the point. “What are you saying, specifically?” His tone sharpened, a touch of sarcasm creeping in. “I’d hate to make you upset. I know what happens when you get upset.”

Their exchange was attracting a few curious glances from the nearby students, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. Sky’s gaze flicked toward the onlookers briefly before returning to Stella.

Stella’s smile wavered just for a second, a flash of something like vulnerability crossing her features before she masked it. “I’m sure you’ll do the right thing,” she said, her voice steady but tight.

Sky held her gaze for a moment longer, then handed back the glass without taking a sip. “I always do,” he replied, slipping one hand into his brown leather jacket before turning to walk off, the weight of the interaction already tiring him.

Stella took the glass back begrudgingly, her grip tightening around it as she noticed the eyes of the crowd still lingering on them. She shot them a sharp look, raising her chin in defiance.

"Enjoy the show?" she snapped, her words laced with irritation before she stormed off, leaving the onlookers to exchange glances in her wake.

But as Stella strode away, her focus on Bloom was more than a little misdirected. Sure, she noticed the subtle sparks between Sky and the new girl, and that definitely stung. But, in reality, Bloom wasn’t the one who posed the real threat to her carefully constructed world—not yet, at least. Though bunking just beyond the wall, the redhead was only the start of Stella's concerns.

Because, whether she realized it or not, and whether Sky did either, there was another fairy lingering quietly in the background. One who was already starting to occupy space in the blonde Specialist’s mind, even if no one had caught on just yet. And for now, that particular fairy was flying completely under Stella's radar.

The sun was gradually sinking toward the horizon, its warm light fading as the moon began to ascend into the night sky. Terra had managed to show Y/N far more of the school than Sam had, and with each new landmark or shortcut, Y/N felt his anxiety ease a little more. Navigating the sprawling grounds of Alfea didn’t seem as daunting now, and the prospect of finding his classes in the morning felt less like a challenge and more like something he could manage.

He appreciated Terra's extensive tour. While Sam’s earth magic allowed him to phase through walls and take unconventional routes, the paths he’d shown Y/N earlier hadn’t exactly been practical for someone without those abilities. But Terra's guidance had been a lifesaver, giving Y/N the confidence he needed to feel a little more at ease in this new environment. And it didn’t hurt that he could now say he had another friend beyond just his roommate.

As they made their way back towards the main area where the orientation party was still in full swing, Y/N felt a quiet sense of accomplishment. He’d spent the day getting to know the school and making connections—small victories that meant a lot after such a whirlwind arrival.

When they reached the party, Y/N paused, looking back toward the lively crowd. “I think I’m going to step outside for a bit,” he said, turning to Terra with a small smile. “I need to call my dad, let him know I’m okay and made it through without any major disasters.”

Terra nodded, understanding. “Yeah, sure! It was good getting to hang out with you, hopefully we’ll have classes together. Maybe Sam and I’ll make an earth fairy out of you yet Or at least I can, Sam’s not that reliable..” She grinned, her teasing light-hearted.

Y/N chuckled. “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Still got to master my own magic first.” With a wave, he stepped away from the party, grateful for a moment of quiet outside.

As he walked off, Terra’s gaze shifted across the canteen, catching sight of Riven. The cocky Specialist was in the middle of harassing what looked like a freshman. Her smile faded, irritation flashing in her eyes. “Great,” she muttered to herself, moving towards the scene, ready to intervene.

Y/N stepped out into the quiet evening, the crisp night air brushing against his skin as he moved away from the hum of the party. The noise, the whispers, and the pressing weight of new expectations faded into the background, replaced by the stillness of the night. Above him, the stars were beginning to dot the inky sky, and the moon hung like a soft lantern, casting a gentle glow across the grounds.

Under the soft glow of the moon, Y/N felt a quiet sense of peace settle over him, a kind of stillness that seemed to resonate deep within his core. The world around him grew quieter, and yet, at the same time, he felt more alive, more in tune with everything—especially the water that flowed in the nearby river. The moon's silver light washed over the landscape, but it also seemed to wash over him, sharpening his senses, making him more aware of the subtle hum of magic pulsing through his veins.

There was always something about the moon that brought him a heightened sense of awareness. Its gentle, luminous presence had a way of amplifying his connection to water, as if the tides within him swelled and receded in perfect harmony with the celestial body above. The longer he stood under its glow, the more he could feel his magic stir, stronger and more defined, like a calm current just waiting to be guided.

It was during these moments that Y/N felt most like himself—connected, powerful, but also grounded. The pull of the moon acted like an anchor, steadying him in ways that the chaotic energy of the day never could. There was an unspoken bond between him and the water, one that felt even more profound when the moon was present, as though its light illuminated not only the world around him but also the depths of his own potential.

Now, sitting on the bench near the edge of the courtyard, Y/N felt that same pull from the moon overhead. The familiar hum of his magic stirred within him, quieter now but still present, like the tide waiting to rise. He glanced up at the bright object, a small, wistful smile tugging at his lips. It reminded him of home, of those nights by the lake, and of the man who had always stood by his side.

A soft pang of longing settled in his chest, and he pulled out his phone. After a few taps, he called his dad.

The phone rang a few times before his dad’s gruff but warm voice answered, “Y/N, about time you called. Thought I was gonna have to send a whole squad in after you.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back on the bench. “Sorry, Dad. It’s been crazy since I got here and it’s a lot to take in. Alfea is huge. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

His dad’s voice softened with a note of humor. “Let me guess—got lost, tried to play it cool, but couldn’t figure out which building was which?”

Y/N laughed. “Twice. Sam’s shortcuts aren’t exactly... beginner-friendly. Luckily, his sister Terra gave me a proper tour.”

His dad hummed, the sound low and steady, a quiet comfort even from miles away. "Good. I’m glad you’re finding your way," he said, his voice warm but soon shifting to the no-nonsense tone Y/N had grown up with. "Did Miss Dowling go over the curriculum with you? What’s it gonna be like for drills and practices?” His tone sharpened, slipping into that familiar edge of military discipline, a reminder that beneath the caring father was a man who had spent years in service, accustomed to strict routines and rigid expectations.

Y/N leaned back on the bench, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His dad’s voice always carried that familiar weight, even in casual conversations—like there was an invisible checklist in his mind, keeping everything measured and focused. "Yeah, we went over it. The curriculum's solid," Y/N replied, trying to keep things light, though he knew his dad would pick apart every detail. "It’s a lot of basics at first—control exercises, learning how to use magic slowly and safely, all that. They’re big on precision and making sure no one gets ahead of themselves too fast. Miss Dowling made it pretty clear that we’re gonna be challenged, but nothing I can’t handle." He paused for a second, remembering something she’d mentioned in passing about her own military background. “Honestly, I think you’d get along with her. She’s definitely no-nonsense—reminds me of you."

He paused, running his hand through his hair, still feeling the weight of the headmistress’s words from earlier. "I’ll have regular check-ins with her too—y’know, to keep track of how I’m doing. She’s real big on making sure we don’t try to prove something and end up hurting ourselves. So, yeah, lots of discipline, lots of control. But it sounds like I’ll be able to figure it out." His tone was casual, but beneath the surface, he knew it was going to be intense—and his dad would expect nothing less than him excelling at it.

“As they should be,” his dad said, though his tone was a bit lighter than usual. “It’s your first day, but don’t get too comfortable. I’m sure you’ve got a leg up on thosen other slackers with what I’ve already taught you, so make sure you’re putting it to good use. Don’t just go through the motions because it’s new. Take it seriously from the start.”

Y/N nodded, feeling that familiar tug of expectation settle in. “Yeah, I know, Dad. I’m not slacking. Miss Dowling’s big on safety and control, and trust me, she’s not about to let anyone take it easy. She’s got this whole ‘slow but steady’ approach with magic, so I’m sure I’ll get plenty of practice.” He chuckled softly, then added, “Seriously, I think you and Dowling would get along great. She’s got a military background too, so she’s all about discipline.”

His dad hummed approvingly on the other end. “Good. Sounds like you’re in the right hands then. Just make sure you keep your focus and set the tone early. That’s how you get ahead.” Even though it wasn’t a drill-sergeant tone, the message was clear: the groundwork Y/N laid now would shape the rest of his time at Alfea.

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of those words familiar but not suffocating—not yet, anyway. His dad had always pushed him, but there was pride behind it. And while the pressure was always there, it felt less about being perfect and more about becoming something better than he was the day before.

Y/N leaned back on the bench, the cool night air grounding him as he listened to the comforting sound of his dad’s voice on the other end. He glanced up at the moon, its light reflecting off the nearby river. "Actually, I’ve already seen some pretty cool stuff here, magic-wise. My roommate, Sam—he’s an Earth fairy, and get this—he can literally walk through solid objects. Like, I’m talking full-on phase through walls, no big deal." He chuckled, the memory of Sam casually disappearing through their dorm room wall earlier still fresh. "And then there’s the girls who use magic to take selfies. I mean, honestly, not as surprising as you’d think, but still, the Otherworld is wild. It’s different here... and kind of the same, in weird ways."

There was a pause, and Y/N could almost hear his dad raising an eyebrow on the other end. "Sounds like you’re adjusting," his dad remarked, amusement slipping into his tone. "Learning any new tricks yourself? Besides dodging magical selfies, I mean."

Y/N grinned, though the question struck a deeper chord than he wanted to admit. "Not yet," he said, his tone light but laced with something heavier beneath it. "They’re big on control here—real slow and steady. Apparently, it’s all about mastering the basics, making sure we don’t accidentally blow up half the school or anything." He let out a small chuckle, but the humor in his voice felt forced, more like a shield than anything else. "Which, you know... kinda makes sense, considering... well, let’s just say that’s the main reason I’m even here."

There was a beat of silence. Y/N’s words hung in the air, his attempt at joking about it doing little to cover the weight of what he’d left unsaid. The memory of that one night—the water flooding in, his dad’s panic—flashed through his mind like a vivid dream he couldn’t fully wake up from. But instead of letting the pain sink in, he threw up his usual defense—a half-smile, a shrug, and a quick change of subject.

His dad was quiet for a moment, the weight of that shared memory hanging heavy between them. "You’ve come a long way since then, Y/N," he said, his voice softer, more careful. "But I get it. Even when you were a kid, you had this way of diving headfirst into chaos and somehow, just barely, pulling yourself out of it. And yeah, it probably felt easier back then, knowing I was always there to catch you if things went south. That safety net, right? But you're stronger now. You’ve learned to handle it on your own. You don’t need me right next to you to pull you back. You’ve got this under control."

Y/N swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He didn’t want to admit how much he missed the reassurance of having his dad right beside him. "Yeah, I guess. It just feels different now. Like, what if I mess up, and there’s no one around to stop it? What if I hurt someone?" His voice wavered slightly, betraying the insecurities that had been bubbling under the surface since he arrived at Alfea.

"Hey," his dad interrupted, that firm yet comforting tone snapping Y/N out of his spiral. "I know it's new, and it’s scary being out there on your own, but you’ve got this. You’ve got the discipline, the training—you’ve always been able to pull yourself together, no matter what. And even if I’m not there physically, I’m always with you. I’m in your head, telling you to keep your feet grounded, your mind sharp. You’ve got more in you than you think."

Y/N smiled softly, his heart swelling with gratitude. "Thanks, Dad. I just... it’s good to hear you say that." There was a long pause, the sound of crickets filling the space between them as the moon continued to rise higher in the sky.

"Good. Now, just to check, you’re not letting any boys distract you from all that hard work, are you?" His dad’s tone took on a teasing edge, a small chuckle filtering through the phone.

Y/N snorted, rolling his eyes even though no one could see him. "Dad, seriously?"

"I mean it! I’ve got to make sure no one’s catching your eye and pulling you off your game. Any eye candy running around there?"

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his dad’s playful concern. "The only boy I’ve heard about that’s worth looking at is this Sky guy. Apparently, he’s the golden boy around here, but from what I’ve heard, that’s a mess I definitely don’t want to get involved in."

"Oh really? Sounds like someone’s been doing their homework." His dad’s voice was light, but Y/N could hear the smirk in it. "So, Sky, huh? What’s the deal there?"

Y/N shrugged, his tone casual. "I dunno, something about his ex-girlfriend, drama, whatever. Definitely not something I’m about to jump into on day one." He chuckled, leaning back again as he looked up at the stars. "Besides, I’ve got enough to deal with just figuring out where all my classes are."

"Smart man," his dad replied with a chuckle, but there was a familiar edge to his tone. "Keep your head on straight. Boys can wait until you're the top water fairy in that school, right? And just so we’re clear," his voice dropped an octave, that serious military dad tone slipping through the humor, "if any of those boys give you trouble... well, you know where to find me. I don’t care how far Alfea is."

Y/N smirked, knowing his dad was half-joking—emphasis on half. "Yeah, I’m not about to test that."

"Still can’t believe my son’s a fairy,” his dad muttered, the teasing tone unmistakable.

“Careful, old man,” Y/N shot back with a grin. “Talk like that, and you’ll end up cancelled.”

A loud scoff echoed through the phone. “Cancelled? Please. Your generation’s full of a bunch of soft pussies. Ain’t no-one canceling me.”

As time passed, their conversation flowed easily, with Y/N filling his dad in on his new dorm, mentioning Terra’s bubbly personality, Sam’s easygoing nature, and a few of the other students he’d come across. His dad listened patiently, offering his usual dry comments or a chuckle here and there. But mostly, he let Y/N ramble on, giving him the space to talk through everything that had been building up inside. It was comforting, like a piece of home grounding him in the unfamiliar world of Alfea.

Y/N leaned back, glancing up at the sky again. The moon had climbed even higher, casting a cool glow that bathed the courtyard in silvery light. The gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze and the distant trickle of the river were the only sounds that filled the space around him now, making the night feel even more serene. It was almost too peaceful, in contrast to the emotions still swirling in his chest.

“I should probably let you go,” Y/N finally said, the reluctance clear in his voice. “I don’t want to keep you up.”

His dad’s tone softened, that rare moment of vulnerability slipping through. “You’re not keeping me up, kid. I’m glad we got to talk. And remember, if anything goes sideways or you need anything, I’m just a call away. You’re not in this alone.”

Y/N swallowed the lump forming in his throat, grateful for the reassurance but wishing he didn’t feel so far away. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll be alright... I miss you though.”

“I miss you too, Y/N. But you’re doing great. You’re where you need to be. Keep your head straight, and don’t let anything distract you from that.”

Y/N smiled softly, the familiar comfort of his dad’s words settling over him like a blanket. “I won’t. Talk to you soon?”

“Always.”

“Cool, love you dad.”

“Love you to, kid.”

With that, they said their goodbyes, Y/N holding onto the phone for a moment longer after the call ended, as if keeping the connection alive just a little longer. The night seemed quieter now, and despite the warmth in his chest from the conversation, there was still a restlessness lingering under his skin.

As Y/N stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket, his attention was drawn to movement in the distance. Two girls were making their way back from the forest toward the school—one with bright ginger hair pulled into a ponytail, the other with braids tied up and still in athletic swimwear. He recognized them from earlier in the day. Their voices were raised, the sharp tone of their argument carrying faintly on the wind, though the exact words were lost to him. Still, the tension between them was palpable, enough to make Y/N pause for a moment, curiosity and some small concern bubbling up inside him.

He watched them for a brief moment, before letting out a sigh, deciding he didn’t even want to know what that was about. Whatever was going on between them, it wasn’t his place. Not tonight. He had enough to process without diving into someone else’s problems.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as the weight of the day settled over him. There was still too much swirling around in his mind, and the emotional pull from talking to his dad hadn’t fully left him. Needing more space to clear his thoughts, he let his magic guide him. The familiar tug in his chest pointed him toward the nearby river, the soft hum of the water beckoning him with its soothing energy.

Y/N took one last glance at the retreating figures before turning in the opposite direction, heading toward the river’s edge. The water called to him, and tonight, he needed that quiet connection more than anything.

“No, you shouldn’t have been out there.”

Bloom’s words, sharp and filled with frustration, echoed as she and Aisha ascended one of the stairways in Alfea’s grand halls. Bloom turned, her body tense, facing Aisha who looked back with an incredulous expression.

“Is that American for ‘sorry I almost set you on fire’?” Aisha shot back, her voice edged with sarcasm. Her arms crossed over her chest as she took a step closer, challenging Bloom's deflection. “You were a runaway train with no idea what you were doing.”

“Which is why I was out there alone—trying to figure it out.” Bloom's tone held the weight of exhaustion as she stormed up the stairs, not wanting to hear another lecture. Her steps were quick and purposeful, as if she could walk away from the guilt building in her chest. Aisha followed closely behind, her eyes narrowing.

“Brilliant idea.” Aisha muttered, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though there was an undercurrent of concern she didn’t bother to hide.

Bloom stopped abruptly, turning toward Aisha with a tired expression. She waved her arms out, a gesture of frustration and defeat. “I’m not like the rest of you. I didn’t grow up here. I don’t have fairy parents. I’ve done magic once in my life and it was...” she trailed off, unable to even finish the thought. Her words hung in the air, weighted with emotion.

Aisha, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “What? Terrible? I’m shocked. I flooded my entire secondary school after I failed a math test. Taps, sprinklers, toilets... Have you ever waded through human poo? I have. Not pleasant. Sometimes being a fairy means you have to deal with shit.”

The hallway they stood in felt quieter now as Bloom sighed and sat on one of the benches nearby. The weight of her confession bore down on her, and her shoulders slumped slightly. Her voice came out quieter this time, less defensive. “So my... mom and I don’t really get along.” There was a small, almost bitter chuckle that followed. “I know. It’s a shocker. I’m not... exactly the ideal daughter for her. She’d love a cheerleader, and I’m whatever the opposite of a cheerleader is.”

Aisha stayed quiet, sensing there was more Bloom wanted to say. And after a moment of silence, Bloom’s eyes darkened with a memory she wished she could forget. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together as if holding herself together. She described a vivid memory of her mother instructing her father to remove her bedroom door after a heated argument. The punishment had felt unfair, extreme even, and the anger had built up inside Bloom, festering. 

“That night, I… couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the rage just kept building. Then it happened.”

Aisha leaned in, listening intently as Bloom continued. She spoke of the first time she’d tapped into her magic, unknowingly igniting a fire that blazed a trail from her room to her parents' bedroom. “It was almost like the fire had a life of its own... I don’t remember how long I let it burn. I just remember their screams.”

Her voice cracked as she described the scene—the sight of her parents huddled in the corner of their bedroom, her father desperately trying to shield her mother from the flames that engulfed the room. “My mom...was covered in third-degree burns…’cause of me. Every night after that, I… I snuck out. I was so scared I’d hurt them again that I slept in this creepy-ass warehouse near my house. Until Miss Dowling found me.” There was a bitter chuckle mixed with a sniffle, her hands wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Aisha, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, her voice softer than before. “All right. Fire story beats shit story. You win.”

A faint smile broke through Bloom’s pained expression, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She looked down at her hands, the weight of her past still pressing on her shoulders. Aisha stood and walked toward the ledge that overlooked the canteen below, her expression thoughtful, as though piecing together Bloom’s story in her mind.

“And your parents had no idea it was you?” Aisha’s voice was steady, but there was a hint of disbelief.

Bloom shook her head slowly, the disbelief mirrored in her own voice. “I don’t know how distant my fairy ancestors are, but... the most mystical thing my parents believe in is knocking on wood.”

Aisha was quiet for a moment, her mind turning over the pieces of the puzzle before her. “It’s just... odd,” she began cautiously. “You drew on a great deal of magic without even trying. It’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline. Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No. No, I... No, I’ve heard the story of my birth a million times. ‘Miracle baby.’ I had a heart defect in the womb, but a day after I was born, it was gone.”

Aisha’s expression shifted, her eyes widening slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh God. You... You’re a changeling.”

“What’s that?” Bloom asked, her confusion deepening. “Aisha, what’s a changeling?”

Aisha slowly sat down next to her, the weight of her words sinking in. “A changeling is a fairy baby that’s switched with a human one at birth.”

“Wait, what?” Bloom's voice cracked slightly, her confusion turning into shock.

“It’s barbaric,” Aisha said quietly. “It barely happens anymore.”

“That’s not possible.” Bloom was adamant, shaking her head.

“You’re clearly very powerful, Bloom,” Aisha pointed out. “You have to be pure-blooded.”

Bloom slowly rose out of her seat, her voice following suit. “I would know if my parents weren’t my parents, Aisha. Why would you even say that?”

“I’m just trying to help,” Aisha replied, her tone cautious, but her intent sincere.

“Well, you’re not.” She stormed off, her footsteps echoing in the hallway as she passed Musa, who had just arrived.

As she passed, Musa approached them, her eyes flicking between the two. “What the hell did you tell her?” she asked, eyeing Aisha with confusion.

“The truth,” Aisha said standing as well as she slowly approached the mind fairy, still staring after Bloom. “Because someone’s been lying to her.”

The dim glow of the evening light filtered through the stained glass windows of Headmistress Dowling's office, casting long, soft shadows across the room. She sat at her desk, a steaming cup of tea in her hands, its gentle aroma filling the quiet space. Her gaze was distant, her thoughts clearly elsewhere as she took a slow, deliberate sip. The warmth of the tea was comforting, but even that couldn't ease the weight pressing on her mind.

After a moment, Dowling set the cup down gently on its saucer, the faint clink barely audible. Her eyes flicked toward the door across the room, sensing a disturbance, though none had entered. With a subtle movement of her hand, the door silently swung shut, closing the space off to the world beyond.

She exhaled quietly, her expression unreadable, before turning her attention to the far side of the room. The ornate bookshelf that lined the wall appeared ordinary to any unsuspecting observer, but as her hand raised slightly, the wood seemed to shift, the books trembling momentarily as the shelf retracted into the wall, revealing a hidden passageway behind it.

Without hesitation, Dowling rose from her chair and moved toward the secret entrance, her steps soundless on the floor. The passage yawned open, dark and shadowed, as she stepped inside, her figure disappearing from view. The bookshelf slid back into place seamlessly, leaving the office as still and untouched as it had been moments before, save for the faint swirl of steam rising from the now-abandoned cup of tea.

The sun disappeared below the horizon, taking its golden, orange, and pinkish-purple hues with it. The moon now sat comfortably in the night sky, casting long shadows across Alfea’s combat arena. The air was thick with the scent of fresh grass and the distant hum of students winding down from their day. In this quiet, secluded part of the academy grounds, only the steady, rhythmic sound of breathing could be heard—evidence of someone deep in training.

Sky had needed to clear his head. After the party and that tense conversation with Stella, he'd come out to the training grounds to blow off some steam. He hadn’t planned on being out here so late, but training was what he knew best—what gave him clarity when everything else felt chaotic.

As Alfea’s newest Specialist Squad Leader and the son of Andreas, Sky was no stranger to pressure. Even in his second year, the expectations placed on him by Silva, his peers, and the legacy of his father were enough to weigh down even the strongest. And now, the added worry of a possible Burned One sighting made the stress all the more suffocating.

He moved with practiced precision through the drills, each strike and parry sharper than the last. But no matter how many times he tried to lose himself in the rhythm, his thoughts circled back to the burdens he carried. The responsibilities of leadership, the looming threat of the Burned Ones, and the unresolved tension with Stella—everything felt heavy, like a weight pressing down on him.

And then there was that fairy.

Sky couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about them kept gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. Maybe it was the way they moved—calm and controlled, but with a kind of unrefined intensity that suggested more power than they even realized. Or maybe it was the way they carried themselves, like they were used to keeping people at arm’s length, though not out of arrogance—more like they were afraid of letting anyone get too close.

It was different from anyone else he’d met. And that look...like they were holding back something deep, something that pulled Sky in even when he should’ve been focused on other things. He’d seen that intensity in their eyes—focused, yet almost searching for something or someone, like a puzzle they were trying to piece together, but couldn’t quite crack.

It was enough to make him pause, to make him wonder if he was reading too much into it. But every time the thought crept in, it wouldn’t leave.

He shook his head, trying to push the feeling away. There was too much going on, too much at stake, to get distracted. But still… his mind kept drifting back, wondering what it was about them that made it so hard to just look away.

Sky paused, sheathing his sword as he took a moment to breathe. His chest rose and fell with the effort, but even the burn in his muscles did little to quiet the storm inside. He sat down on the edge of the raised platform, staring out at the open field, hoping the stillness would help center him.

That’s when he heard it—the faint sound of splashing water, barely distinguishable from the natural hum of the nearby river. It wasn’t much, just enough to make him pause. He stood up, scanning the area, listening intently. The sound of rushing water grew more distinct, and along with it, a faint rustle of leaves. Sky’s instincts kicked in, and his focus sharpened.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Sky followed the sound, moving quietly through the trees that bordered the field. As he approached the riverbank, he noticed muddied footprints cutting through the overgrowth, disappearing into the forest. Someone had been here recently.

He crouched down, inspecting the footprints. They were fresh, still damp, meaning whoever made them hadn’t passed by long before he arrived. A trail led toward the river where the shimmering Barrier of Alfea’s protective force field could be seen in the distance.

Sky knew he should probably report this to Silva or even Headmistress Dowling. It wasn’t a good idea for anyone to be out here alone, especially this close to the Barrier after what had happened in the forest. But something made him hesitate—whether it was a need to prove himself or just an unconscious draw to see what lay ahead, Sky couldn’t say. But whatever it was, he decided to follow the trail himself.

He stepped into the thickening trees, the sounds of the forest growing louder around him—rustling leaves, the distant chirping of insects, and the constant, rhythmic flow of water. The further he went, the more the noise seemed to focus on the river. And as he reached the treeline, stepping into the clearing by the water’s edge, his eyes widened at the sight before him.

Standing near the river was the same water fairy from earlier. Sky recognized him immediately—the way he moved was unmistakable. The fairy’s back was to him, seemingly unaware of Sky’s presence as he practiced his magic, manipulating the water with a grace and precision that was mesmerizing to watch.

Sky’s first instinct was to turn back. They were still within the Barrier, and it wasn’t uncommon for students to seek solitude near the river to practice. Privacy was something Sky valued too, and he understood the need to escape the buzz of Alfea life. But something about the way the water fairy moved held him in place.

There was a seamless blend of power and precision in the way he controlled the water, sending it twisting and spiraling through the air. The fluid motions were almost hypnotic, each arc of water bending and shifting under the fairy’s control before solidifying into sharp, crystalline shapes. A spear, a shield, and then, just as quickly, back to water again.

Sky had always found water magic fascinating, but watching this guy work was something else entirely. There was no hesitation, no faltering. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, with the water responding as if it were an extension of his body. It was clear that he wasn’t just practicing; he was refining combat techniques in a way that was both deadly and beautiful.

Sky found himself captivated, his eyes following every motion, every subtle shift in the fairy’s form. There was a discipline to his movements, a quiet intensity that spoke of years of training. He couldn’t help but admire the control and focus it must have taken to reach this level of mastery. And yet, as much as he was drawn to the magic, he found his attention shifting to the fairy himself.

The water fairy was lean, his athletic frame moving with a dancer-like precision. Sky’s gaze lingered on the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt, the fabric clinging to him as he commanded the water. There was a calmness in the way he stood, a poise that made every movement seem effortless, deliberate.

Sky shook his head slightly, forcing himself to focus. He wasn’t sure why he felt so drawn to this guy—someone he didn’t even know. But the sense of ease and quiet confidence the fairy exuded was hard to ignore.

As he was about to turn back, his boot caught a branch, the snap of wood echoing through the clearing. Sky winced as the sound broke the stillness, and the fairy immediately turned to face him, his cerulean glowing eyes narrowing with a mix of surprise and wariness.

Four ice weapons materialized in the air, hovering around the fairy in a defensive stance, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. The blue glow of his magic shimmered in the moonlight, casting an ethereal glow around him.

Sky froze, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of his sword, but something stopped him. Despite the threat of the ice weapons, there was no malice in the fairy’s gaze. Sky felt an odd sense of trust, like the fairy wouldn’t actually harm him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the fairy said, his voice calm and composed. With a flick of his wrist, the ice weapons dissolved back into water, falling harmlessly into the river. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be out here.”

Sky let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his body relaxing slightly as the immediate threat dissipated. He managed a small, reassuring smile. “No, it’s my fault,” he replied, his voice steadying. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just… curious.”

The fairy’s expression softened, though his eyes still held a hint of wariness. “Curious?” he echoed, his tone inviting Sky to explain.

“Yeah, I just—” Sky gestured toward the path he had taken. “I saw footprints leading here and wanted to make sure no one was in trouble, being so close to the Barrier and all. You’re new, right? First year at Alfea?”

The fairy’s expression softened, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, first year—first day, actually. It’s been a lot to take in, especially with all the rumors about that body found in the forest. I mean, it was probably just a random animal attack, right? But people seem really on edge, even with the Barrier in place.” He glanced at the river, his tone shifting. “I just needed a break—get some peace and quiet. The river seemed like a safe spot. Calm, secure, no distractions. A chance to relax and clear my head.”

Sky nodded, understanding the logic. "Makes sense," he agreed, though there was still a flicker of concern behind his casual tone. "But, you know, being out here alone... it’s not exactly safe."

The fairy’s brow furrowed slightly, picking up on the shift in Sky’s demeanor. "What do you mean? It’s probably just a wild animal, right?"

Sky hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “You really don’t know what everyone’s been saying? About the possibility of it being a Burned One?”

Y/N’s confusion deepened, his brow tightening. “A Burned One? No, I’ve... never heard of that.”

Sky’s surprise was evident as he raised an eyebrow. “Wait, you don’t know what Burned Ones are? Aren’t you from the Otherworld?”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound almost masking the guarded edge in his tone. "No, not at all. I’m from Hawaii."

Sky blinked, processing the unexpected answer. "Hawaii? You’re from the First World?"

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, his grin more cautious now, though still carrying a trace of humor. “I’m guessing not a lot of people from around here know what or where that is. You’d be surprised, but Sam and Terra actually knew about it. Figured most people here wouldn’t, though, considering how secretive everything’s supposed to be.”

Sky’s smile widened at that. “Hawaii, huh?” His mind immediately drew a parallel to earlier that day, when Bloom had told him she was from California. Another First Worlder. He hadn’t realized how many non-magical realm students Alfea attracted, but it was starting to make him wonder how many more were out there, hidden in plain sight.

“Yep,” Y/N confirmed with a nod, though his gaze briefly flickered away, as if there was more he wasn’t ready to dive into. “I’ve known I was magical since I was a kid—my dad helped me figure out how to control it. But, honestly? I had no idea a place like this even existed. When Miss Dowling first told me about it, I thought she was punking me. I was half expecting to end up in some knock-off Hogwarts amusement park, not... well, here.” He chuckled lightly, the humor genuine, but there was a thread of unease woven beneath the words. “Coming here’s been... a pretty big leap.”

Sky could sense that Y/N was holding something back, like there was a part of his story he wasn’t ready to share. But he didn’t press. Instead, he matched Y/N’s energy with an easy chuckle of his own. “Yeah, I can imagine the culture shock. Seems like we’re getting more and more First Worlders these days.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for a brief second, his guard still up, though he quickly recovered. “Yeah... something like that.”

There was an unspoken tension between them—Y/N was giving Sky pieces of his story, but not the whole picture. And Sky, for all his curiosity, could tell that pushing too hard wasn’t the way to go. Not yet.

The fairy gave a slight shrug, his lips twitching into a small, guarded smile. “Anyway, I’ve got enough of a handle on my magic to be able to take care of myself," he replied, his voice steady, though still carrying that subtle edge of uncertainty, like he wasn’t quite convinced. "And from what I’ve heard, that Barrier is supposed to be impenetrable, right? Should be more than enough to keep us safe. I’m not too worried."

Sky raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between playful and cautious. “Supposed to be, yeah,” he echoed, the tone light but carrying a hint of skepticism. “But you know, the rumors swirling around aren’t exactly about stray animals. Burned Ones aren’t your average woodland creatures.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and curiosity. “Still don’t really know what those are, but... sure,” he admitted with a shrug, trying to play it off casually, though a hint of unease lingered in his voice.

Sky couldn’t help but smile at the fairy’s self-assuredness. There was something infectious about the way he spoke, a quiet confidence that made it hard to look away. The specialist shifted his stance slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, trying to maintain an air of casualness. His own expression softened as he took in the guy in front of him—something about him drew Sky in, even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“Still,” Sky added, a hint of playfulness creeping into his tone, “it never hurts to have someone around who knows what to expect and knows their way around combat. You know, just in case that Barrier isn’t as foolproof as they say.”

The fairy raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Confident, aren’t we?” he quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Let me guess... Specialist, right?”

Sky chuckled, feeling more at ease as the energy between them started to feel less tense and more comfortable, even natural. It felt as if they were simply falling into a rhythm that neither had expected but both were enjoying.

“You got me,” Sky admitted with a grin, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. “I guess I can’t help but be a little protective.”

“And what makes you think I need protection?” Y/N asked, his eyes narrowing slightly in playful challenge. Then, he paused for a second, as if piecing together the puzzle. His gaze flicked over Sky—blond hair, confident stance, and the slight swagger that came with his title. “Hmm,” Y/N tilted his head, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you’re the golden boy I’ve been hearing so much about. Sky, right?”

Sky blinked, surprised but intrigued. He hadn’t expected to be recognized, especially out here, and he certainly hadn’t anticipated Y/N’s keen observation. “That’s right,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “What exactly have you been hearing about me?”

Y/N shrugged, his smirk widening just a bit. “Oh, you know, just that you’re Alfea’s newest squad leader, the one everyone seems to look up to. Plus, it’s hard not to notice when your name’s on just about everyone’s lips today.”

Sky chuckled again, though there was a trace of modesty in his response. “Well, I guess my reputation precedes me,” he said with a grin, but his expression turned a bit more serious as he added, “But you might want to rethink the whole ‘no protection needed’ thing. This place has its dangers, even with a Barrier.”

Sky watched the fairy carefully, his curiosity growing with each passing second. There was something about the way Y/N spoke, a quiet confidence, but also a guardedness, that intrigued him. He hadn’t expected the conversation to take this turn, but it wasn’t unwelcome. In fact, Sky found himself wanting to know more.

“Maybe,” Y/N said with a casual shrug, though his voice carried a darker edge. “It’s not like I’ve been wandering around without a clue. When it comes to magic… let’s just say I’m probably more of a threat to others—and myself—than anything out here could be to me.” His eyes flickered briefly, a subtle tension beneath the surface. “I can handle myself, and I’m definitely not looking for trouble.”

Sky tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, but the flicker of curiosity in his eyes gave away that he’d picked up on the deeper meaning behind Y/N’s words. “Maybe you’re not looking for trouble,” he said, his tone casual yet pointed, “but that doesn’t mean trouble’s not out there looking for you.”

Y/N huffed softly, amusement flickering in his eyes as he narrowed them in a playful challenge. “And what makes you think I’m the type that needs rescuing?”

Sky’s grin widened, leaning into the teasing banter. “I don’t know… maybe it’s just my hero complex kicking in.”

Y/N let out a light laugh, the sound easy and carefree, a contrast to the tension that had been hanging between them earlier. “Hero complex, huh?” he teased back, his smirk growing. “And here I was told you Specialists were all about strategy and precision.”

Sky chuckled lightly at Y/N's retort, their easy banter creating a surprising warmth between them. But as the playful atmosphere settled, a silence followed. They exchanged a few lingering glances—curious from Sky, and slightly more guarded from Y/N. There was something in the fairy’s expression, a subtle nervousness, that made Sky feel as though Y/N wasn’t used to being watched so intently.

After a moment, Sky cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “It’s getting late, and we’ve got classes in the morning. Probably best we both head back to the dorms.”

Y/N gave a slight nod, though he couldn’t resist another jab. “You’re really serious about that hero complex, huh?”

Sky grinned, unable to stop himself from playing along. “You’d be surprised how serious I am about it.”

The tension between them dissolved into a more comfortable camaraderie as Sky offered a small gesture toward the direction of the dorms. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

They began their walk back through the forest, the sounds of the river fading behind them, replaced by the quiet rustle of leaves and the distant hum of Alfea. Sky and Y/N moved in step with each other, their conversation light, touching on the campus, the upcoming classes, and the expectations looming over them both. There was a natural flow to their interaction that felt almost... easy.

When they reached the Fairy Hall, Sky hesitated for a moment before flashing Y/N a genuine smile. “Well, here you are. Fairy Hall, safe and sound.”

Y/N chuckled softly, rolling his eyes at Sky’s mock-seriousness. “Guess you weren’t kidding about that hero complex.”

With a final grin, Sky offered a casual wave before turning to head toward the Specialist Hall. “See you around, first-year.”

Y/N watched him disappear into the distance before turning to make his way inside. But as he took a step forward, something caught his eye—a figure slipping out from the shadows near the edge of the courtyard. He paused, narrowing his gaze, trying to make out the person’s features.

It was a girl, the same one he saw earlier walking back with that swimmer looking girl towards the school when they were seemingly arguing. She was still wearing the same clothes, her ginger hair pulled into a ponytail, and she was walking away from the halls, heading toward the forest. 

She wasn’t far enough yet that Y/N couldn’t spot the nervous twitch in her hands, like she was fidgeting with something. As she stepped into the moonlight, something golden caught his eye—small, shiny, like some type of jewelry that was faintly glowing with a trace of magic.

Y/N felt a twinge of unease. He didn’t know why, but something about the way she moved, the way her fingers fidgeted with the golden object, tugged at his instincts. He stood there for a moment, battling in his mind with what to do.

Clearly, she wasn’t heading for the dorms. Something in Y/N’s gut twisted, a nagging instinct that screamed at him to follow her, while his brain—not to be outdone—was urging him to run straight to Miss Dowling and let her handle it. There was the smart choice, and then there was… well, the choice Y/N usually made.

Naturally, he didn’t choose smart.

With a quiet huff, he slipped after her, his footsteps light as he shadowed her path towards the trees. His curiosity—and maybe a touch of concern—grew with every step. She was heading toward the Barrier. Toward the forest. And for reasons he couldn’t fully explain, that only made the gnawing feeling in his gut tighten. Quickening his pace, he stayed far enough back to not alert her, but close enough to see what she was up to. Because apparently, tonight, he was committed to bad decisions.

Aisha and Musa entered the Winx suite, their footsteps quiet as the tension between them grew. Stella was sprawled on the couch, taking selfies, the glow from her magical light casting her face in soft, flattering shadows.

"She's blanking my texts," Aisha said, her frustration laced with a hint of worry.

Musa’s eyes narrowed, her voice sharp with sarcasm as she glanced at Stella. "Strange. I wonder if it's because she poured her heart out to you and you called her a freak?"

Her comment hung in the air, heavy with accusation, but Stella remained unmoved, still engrossed in her phone. Aisha’s lips tightened as she tried to keep her cool.

"Have you seen Bloom?" Aisha asked, directing her question to Stella.

"Not recently," Stella replied dismissively, barely sparing Aisha a glance as she focused on her screen.

Musa wasn’t convinced. Her gaze intensified, the light in her irises turning a faint purple glow as her expression darkened with suspicion. Stella, sensing Musa’s scrutiny, snapped her fingers, dispelling the magical light she had been using for her selfies. She finally looked up, defensive and annoyed.

"Yes?" Stella’s voice held a challenging edge.

"Your face looks so calm, yet you're racked with guilt," Musa said, her eyes never leaving Stella.

"You're a mind fairy," Aisha added, her voice taking on a sharper tone.

Before the tension could deepen, Terra stepped into the room, oblivious to the building atmosphere. She glanced between them, catching the subtle hostility in the air.

"A mind fairy? What's your connection? Memory, thoughts—" Terra started, her curiosity piqued.

"Not a great time," Musa interrupted, cutting her off.

Terra frowned, sensing something off. "Is everything OK?"

Stella’s fingers danced across her phone, ignoring the mounting tension.

"Not really," Aisha said, her frustration seeping through. "I'm looking for Bloom. For some reason, Stella's feeling guilty about it."

At that, Stella’s eyes flicked up, her annoyance flashing before she masked it with indifference. She rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Could everyone save the drama for drama club?" Stella quipped.

Terra wasn’t having it. "Wasn't she talking to Sky?" she asked, her tone firm.

"And?" Stella replied, a coy smile tugging at her lips.

"And I know what happened to the last person who was 'talking to Sky.' I was here last year, remember," Terra said, her voice rising slightly, as if placing air quotes around the words.

Stella scoffed in response, turning back to her phone with a petulant smile, clearly dismissing the concern.

"Stella, where's Bloom?" Terra’s expression hardened, her tone leaving no room for games.

Stella glanced up through her lashes, realizing she had no way out. There was no escaping the questions now. Sighing, she dropped her phone into her lap, her face reflecting both guilt and defiance.

"She was feeling homesick, so I did a nice thing and I lent her my ring so that she could go back to the First World," Stella admitted, though her tone carried an air of justification, as if she hadn’t done anything wrong.

As they spoke, deep in the forest, far beyond the Barrier protecting Alfea, Bloom hurried through the dense trees, her steps quick and purposeful. The moonlight barely filtered through the canopy, casting a ghostly pallor over the cemetery ahead of her. The air was thick with moisture, the weight of the night pressing down on her as she neared an ancient mausoleum covered in vines and decay.

"Doesn't it only work outside the Barrier?" Terra asked, concern clear in her voice.

"Yes, and there's a gateway in the old cemetery," Stella replied, still acting as if this was all completely normal.

Bloom paused before the weathered stone structure, glancing over her shoulder to ensure she was alone. Behind her, Y/N kept his distance, careful not to be noticed. His instincts were on high alert, something in his gut screaming that whatever she was about to do, he needed to be there.

With a shaky breath, Bloom reached out and pressed her hand—Stella’s ring shimmering in the moonlight—against the cold stone of the mausoleum’s door. A soft glow pulsed from the ring, spreading out like liquid gold until it covered the entire surface. The door creaked open with a slow groan, revealing the darkness inside. Y/N held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched her disappear inside.

"That's deep in the forest, Stella," Terra pressed, her voice taking on a more serious, worried tone. “You know what’s out there, right?”

Inside the mausoleum, Bloom found herself stepping into what looked like an old, abandoned warehouse—the same one where she’d hidden before Miss Dowling had discovered her. The air was thick with dust, carrying the stale scent of decay and neglect. Every corner felt eerily still, the kind of quiet that pressed down on you, almost suffocating in its heaviness. She glanced around briefly, memories flickering at the edges of her mind, before making her way to the main door. When she stepped outside, the familiar warmth of the California air washed over her, a stark contrast to the cold atmosphere inside.

Unnoticed, Y/N slipped into the warehouse behind her. His eyes swept over the unfamiliar space, the faint tension in the air alerting him to how far they’d ventured. It wasn’t until he followed her through the main door and felt the warm breeze on his skin that he realized, with a sharp pang of surprise, that they weren’t in the Otherworld anymore. This was somewhere else entirely.

Judging by the scenery—the dry hills, the faint scent of salt in the air—Y/N guessed they were somewhere on the West Coast. Probably California. But he didn’t have time to play detective because, despite growing up with a military dad who drilled him in endurance, Bloom was already a good half-mile down the road. He huffed, picking up his pace with a ragged breath escaping from at his lips. Seriously, how was she outpacing him like this?

As Y/N rushed to catch up with her, his mind raced just as fast as his legs. This clearly wasn’t just a casual stroll—she had a destination, and whatever it was, it must have been important with the way she was moving.

Back at the Winx suite, the tension in the air thickened. Just as Terra was about to ask Stella another question, a knock sounded on the door, sharp and urgent. Terra called out, “Come in!” The door creaked open, revealing Sam standing there, looking unusually anxious. His eyes darted around the room, his usual calm demeanor noticeably shaken. 

“Terra, have you seen Y/N?” Sam asked, his voice tinged with worry. “He hasn’t come back to our dorm, and I’ve been looking for him everywhere.”

Terra frowned, exchanging concerned glances with Aisha and Musa. “No, I haven’t seen him since the party,” she said slowly. “He said he was going outside to call his dad.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s not answering his phone either. I’ve checked every spot I showed him today and even more but I can’t find him anywhere. He’s just... gone.”

Musa, who had been quietly observing the exchange, tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze flicking to Sam. For a brief moment, something flickered in her expression—interest, curiosity—but the weight of the situation kept her silent.

“I’m sorry, but who is Y/N?” Aisha interjected, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Sam glanced at her, then sighed, running a hand through his dark-brown hair again. “Y/N’s a first-year fairy, from the First World. Miss Dowling assigned me to mentor and guide him since he’s still getting used to everything here and we’re rooming together. He’s from the First World, Hawaii I think, and he said he’s known about his magic for awhile, but the Otherworld is completely new and—well, kind of a shock for him. But he’s smart. Quick learner.”

Before Sam could continue, Terra spoke up, her tone reflecting her growing concern, “The last time I saw him was at the party. He never came back though. I thought maybe he just needed some air, but if he hasn’t come back, I don’t know where he might have gone.”

Aisha nodded, absorbing the information while Terra’s frown deepened. “So, we’ve got a homesick Bloom who’s probably wandering around somewhere in the First World, hopefully not setting things on fire, and a first-year fairy also from the First World who’s gone missing as well? Perfect.”

Terra’s concern deepened. “I don’t believe Y/N would just go off somewhere without telling someone.”

Stella, who had also been silent as she sat in her guilt, put down her phone again, raising an eyebrow. “Missing? You sure he didn’t just... take a walk to be alone or something?”

Sam shook his head, clearly unsettled. “He’d at least tell me where he was going if he was. I’m telling you, something’s wrong. But, what’s this about your suitemate missing somewhere in the FIrst World to?”

Aisha and Musa exchanged a brief, uneasy glance before Aisha cleared her throat. “It’s... kind of a long story,” she started, her gaze flicking toward Stella, her words slow and deliberate. “But Bloom was feeling homesick. I think she wanted to go home to see her parents.”

Sam frowned, crossing his arms as he took in the information, but it was clear he wasn’t getting the full picture. “And how exactly did she manage to do that? Isn’t the Barrier supposed to prevent anyone from leaving like that?”

Musa’s eyes landed on Stella, her expression unyielding. “She had a little help,” she said pointedly, causing Stella to shift uncomfortably on the couch.

Sam’s eyes darkened, clearly picking up on the accusatory tone in the room. “Help from who?” he asked, his voice growing more intense.

Aisha sighed, still clearly upset but staying as calm as possible. “Stella lent Bloom her gateway ring, so she could go back to the First World.”

Sam’s expression hardened, his jaw clenched. “She’s beyond the Barrier? Alone?” His voice was laced with disbelief, mixed with a rising tide of anger. His eyes darted between the girls before settling back on Stella. “Do you even realize how dangerous that is?”

Stella opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, not entirely sure what to say in her defense. Her face reflected a mix of guilt and frustration, but Sam wasn’t waiting for an answer. He was already pacing, his thoughts spiraling.

Aisha, seeing the worry etched on Sam’s face, quickly put together the pieces. “Wait,” she said, her voice becoming more thoughtful. “Bloom and Y/N… they’re both from the First World, right?”

Sam stopped mid-pace, his eyes snapping toward Aisha. “Yeah, they are. Why?”

“It just seems like more than a coincidence, don’t you think?” Aisha said, her brows furrowing. “They’re both from the First World, both entirely new to the Otherworld, both personally assigned mentors by Miss Dowling... and now they’re both missing.”

Musa leaned against the wall, her arms crossed as she considered Aisha’s words. “You’re right. It feels off. Too much of a coincidence for my taste.”

Sam’s concern deepened, his frustration palpable as he clenched his fists at his sides. “And now they’re both out there, somewhere, probably with no idea of the danger they’re walking into.”

Stella, clearly uncomfortable with the weight of the situation she had unintentionally caused, looked down at her hands, the guilt catching up to her. She wasn’t used to feeling this much responsibility, and it was starting to weigh on her more than she let on.

Aisha continued, her voice growing more urgent as she pieced it together. “Could it be possible Y/N might’ve followed Bloom, especially if he noticed something was off? They could both be in the First World right now, but neither of them have a way to get back.”

Sam nodded, his expression tight with concern. “It’s definitely possible,” he said, the tension in his voice unmistakable. “Y/N gives off that selfless, 'help others first' vibe. He’s the type of guy who’d follow someone if he thought they were in trouble, even if he didn’t know them well. I mean, we’ve only spent one day together, but I could already tell—given what’s he’s shared with me about where he grew up and his dad. If he thought Bloom was in trouble, no way he’d just let her go off alone.”

Aisha nodded firmly. “Then, we need to get ahead of this before it gets worse. We’ll have to tell Miss Dowling, let her know what’s going on. They’re not just two students wandering off—they’re basically fresh prey for whatever is out there beyond the Barrier.”

Sam, his frustration now mixing with fear, glared at Stella. “You had better hope nothing happens to them. This is more than just playing with magic.”

Stella, for once, had nothing to say. She looked away, her face stiff with the realization of what she had set into motion.

Y/N hurried to catch up to Bloom, his steps light but determined. His breath was shallow as he finally spotted her, standing at the corner of a white picket fence, her figure bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. She was motionless, her gaze fixed through a large dining room window. Y/N followed her line of sight, his heart clenching when he saw a couple inside—a man and a woman seated at the dinner table. He didn’t need to guess who they were. He already knew: her parents.

She was talking to them, but not directly. Instead, she held her phone close to her ear, her voice trembling as she spoke.

"Um... What if I... What if I... like, made a mistake?" Bloom's voice was faint, just above a whisper, but Y/N could hear the weight of her words as if they carried the burden of years of doubt.

Even though the phone wasn't on speaker, the soft, distant voices of her parents carried to Y/N's ears. The words were unclear at times, but the emotions behind them—concern, love, reassurance—were unmistakable.

"You're too special for here," her mother’s voice, faint but firm, echoed through the phone. "It's not who you are."

"What if you don't know who I am?" Bloom's voice cracked, her vulnerability clear in the way she clutched the phone tighter, her other hand trembling by her side.

Y/N, from his place of hiding, felt his own chest tighten. He knew this feeling. The uncertainty. The loneliness of being misunderstood by the people who were supposed to know you best. He wanted to look away, to stop intruding on this private moment, but something rooted him to the spot. Everything she said mirrored his own struggles with his father—always trying to live up to expectations, always feeling like he had to hide parts of himself.

Inside the house, Bloom’s mother rubbed her arms absentmindedly, and Y/N caught a glimpse of red marks, faint but unmistakable, like burns. He put two and two together, watching as Bloom’s expression faltered—guilt flooding her features. Whatever had happened, Y/N could feel the heaviness of it through his magic, and he knew, somehow, that it had been her doing.

"No, you're right. Alfea's where I belong now," Bloom said, her voice barely holding it together.

"Bloom, listen to me," her mother continued, her tone softer now. "Whatever you're going through, I know it sucks, but I also know you can handle it. I always knew your path wouldn't be like everyone else's."

Y/N’s breath hitched as Bloom let out a teary chuckle, fighting to keep herself together.

"Not like mine or your father's. That's hard. But at the end of it, I can't wait to see who you become."

Her father's voice chimed in then, warm and supportive. "We love you, Bloom."

Through sniffles and quiet sobs, Bloom replied, "I love you too."

The call ended, leaving a hollow silence in the air. Bloom stood there, her shoulders trembling as soft sobs escaped her. Y/N’s heart clenched painfully. He knew this moment wasn’t for him, wasn’t meant for anyone else. Slowly, he took a step back, ready to retreat and give her the privacy she so desperately needed. But as he turned, his foot made a faint sound against the gravel, and Bloom whipped around, her tear-streaked face locking onto him.

The call ended, leaving a hollow silence in the air. Bloom stood there, her shoulders trembling as soft sobs escaped her. Y/N’s heart clenched painfully. He knew this moment wasn’t for him, wasn’t meant for anyone else. Slowly, he stepped back, retreating into the shadows. The weight of her sorrow hung heavy in the air, pulling at him, but he knew she needed this moment alone. He needed to give her space, just like he had craved so many times himself.

He moved quietly, making sure his steps were soundless against the gravel. His pulse echoed in his ears as he carefully distanced himself from the corner of the fence, slipping further into the darkness of the street. With every step he took away from Bloom, the cool night air seemed to grow thicker, almost pressing down on him with the weight of everything he had just witnessed.

But still, he kept moving, his eyes never leaving her until the distance between them was enough to cloak him in the safety of anonymity. He let out a quiet breath, turning back towards the direction of the warehouse. His mind raced with thoughts and emotions, unsure of what exactly he had just seen but knowing, deep down, that it resonated with him in ways he wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.

Y/N made his way back to the warehouse, the chill of the night air doing little to calm the whirlwind of thoughts running through his mind. His feet felt heavy, as though they carried the weight of everything he had just witnessed. Bloom’s words still echoed in his head, the vulnerability in her voice striking a chord deep within him. It was a moment he hadn’t expected to stumble upon, and it left him feeling raw, exposed in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

As he reached the entrance of the warehouse, the shadows inside seemed deeper than before, the quiet of the space pressing in on him. Y/N took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around, trying to piece together what his next move would be. The golden shimmer from Stella’s ring earlier had disappeared, and now the doorway to the Otherworld was sealed shut.

"Great," he muttered under his breath, glancing at the door. "No way back. Now what?"

The silence of the warehouse felt oppressive, like it was swallowing him whole. He walked deeper into the space, his eyes scanning the empty room as he tried to figure out how Bloom had opened the passage in the first place. His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of the doorframe where the gateway had once shimmered. There had to be something, some way to open it again.

But nothing happened. No golden light. No subtle hum of magic.

Y/N cursed under his breath, frustration bubbling to the surface. He felt stuck—both literally and figuratively. Trapped between two worlds and unsure of where he really belonged in either of them. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down until he was sitting on the cold, hard floor. His head fell back against the brick, his eyes closing as he let out a long, tired sigh.

Y/N didn’t have time to rest, though. Just as he settled down, trying to figure out how to get back to the Otherworld, he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps. His eyes snapped open, heart pounding. Oh, shit. Was it Bloom? Or worse… someone from this world who wasn’t supposed to know about magic?

The door creaked open, and in walked Bloom, her expression a wild mix of confusion, suspicion, and the look of someone who was two bad decisions away from a breakdown as she immediately spotted him considering he was sitting in the most obvious space.

Y/N froze, like a deer caught in headlights, his mind going into full panic mode. Oh double shit.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, her voice sharp but laced with exhaustion, as if she didn’t have the energy to be fully angry yet.

Y/N pushed himself to his feet, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I can explain," he started, though he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to explain any of this. He knew how it looked—him lurking around in the shadows after following her all the way from Alfea.

Her eyes locked onto him like laser beams, the glare making him feel as though he’d just been caught red-handed stealing cookies from a grandma’s cookie jar.

"Who the hell are you?" Bloom demanded, her voice sharp but tired, like she just didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever circus this was about to become.

Y/N scrambled to his feet, hands shooting up in the universal gesture of ‘Please don’t murder me.’ "I can explain!" he blurted, though let’s be real—he had no explanation. None. He looked around frantically, as if the walls might suddenly provide some magical excuse for why he was creeping around like a weirdo.

Bloom crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised to the ceiling as she stepped closer, inspecting him like he was some deranged squirrel that had wandered into her personal space. "You’ve got about ten seconds before I call the cops," she warned, her patience thinner than a thread holding up a bad decision.

“Uh, uh... okay!” Y/N stammered, trying not to look like the world’s worst stalker. “So, funny story, really—uh, you see, I, um...” He took a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room as his brain short-circuited. “...I’m not a serial killer!”

Bloom’s arms tightened, not amused in the slightest.

“No, wait! That came out wrong,” Y/N flailed, realizing how insane he must’ve sounded. “Look, I’m a student at Alfea—like, for real! I swear! First-year! Magic! Totally not creepy!” He motioned wildly to his face like that somehow made him look more trustworthy. “I just... saw you leave and thought you might need help? Maybe?”

Bloom’s glare didn’t waver. "So your bright idea was to follow me... to another world... in the middle of the night... alone?"

Y/N blinked, taking a step back. “Okay, in hindsight I can see how that may not have been the most reasonable decision on my part. But I swear, I had good intentions!”

Bloom rolled her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose like she was done with life. “Wow, congratulations. You’re not a serial killer. Gold star for you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, his posture softening as he realized his flailing explanations weren’t getting him anywhere. Time to try another approach. Something less chaotic and maybe a little more… honest.

“Look,” he said, dropping his hands and glancing away, his voice quieter now, more serious. “I know how this looks. Trust me, I get it. But I’m not here to cause trouble. I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words, something that wouldn’t make him sound like an idiot or, worse, a stalker. “I overheard a little bit of what you were going through... back there with your parents.”

Bloom’s defensive stance didn’t drop, but her eyes flickered with surprise. He pressed on, knowing he had to tread carefully.

“I didn’t mean to listen,” he continued, his tone softer. “I really didn’t. I just... well, I could relate to what you were saying.” He swallowed, feeling that familiar knot in his stomach tighten. “I’ve gone through something similar with my dad.”

Bloom’s expression shifted slightly, a tiny crack in her hard exterior, though she still didn’t move. Y/N took it as a sign to keep going.

“I think we’ve got more in common than you realize,” Y/N began, his voice softer now, stepping forward just a little. “You and me… We’ve both grown up with this, haven’t we? Magic.” He paused, studying her face as she absorbed his words. “The only difference is, I’ve known about mine since I was a kid. I’m guessing you just discovered yours.”

Bloom’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t respond, her guard still up.

“In all that time,” Y/N continued, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. More than I can count, honestly. And I’m guessing you’ve made some too, right? It’s kind of impossible not to, with magic like this.” He looked down briefly, running a hand through his hair, remembering the weight of his own guilt. “I saw the burns on your mom’s arms,” he said gently. “And, trust me, I get it. That guilt? That feeling like everything you touch breaks, or worse? I’ve been there.”

Bloom’s expression wavered, something flickering in her eyes as she listened.

“I’ve screwed up a lot, uh... Bloom, right?” Y/N said, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and regret. “I froze an entire military base, in Hawaii of all places. You can imagine how easy it was trying to explain that to people. I  even almost drowned my dad, who acts like he’s fine, but I can still see him get tense when I’m near large sources of water. I’ve hurt people. People I care about. And it makes you feel like... like you’re dangerous. Like you can’t trust yourself anymore.”

Bloom’s posture softened, her arms loosening as she shifted her weight. For a moment, her expression flickered between exhaustion and curiosity, like she wasn’t sure whether to keep her guard up or let it drop.

“You almost drowned your dad?” she asked quietly, her voice losing some of its earlier edge. There was a strange mix of disbelief and understanding in her tone, like she was processing the idea of someone else living through a situation so close to her own.

Y/N let out a breath, relieved that she hadn’t immediately told him to get lost. “Yeah. I mean, it was an accident, obviously. But... that doesn’t really make it any easier, you know? The people who care about you say they’re fine, but deep down, you can see the way they look at you differently. Like they’re afraid.”

Bloom’s eyes flickered with recognition, and for the first time since their strange, chaotic encounter, she looked at him like he might actually understand what she was going through. She hugged her arms closer to her body, glancing toward the back of the warehouse.

After a beat of silence, she nodded toward one of the side rooms. "Come on. I’ve got a room set up through there. It’s probably better to stay here for now then risk walking back throught the forest. We can figure out the rest in the morning."

Y/N nodded, grateful for the chance before following her, the two of them moving toward the backroms with the grimy windows, likely spaces utlitzed as office rooms in the warehouse. The room was sparse—an old mattress, a few blankets, and some personal belongings scattered around. It wasn’t much, but it was clear this had been her sanctuary for a while, a place to escape from everything.

Bloom sat down on the edge of the mattress, letting out a long sigh. Y/N hovered near the doorway, still a little unsure of where he stood in all this, but feeling that at least the immediate threat of being kicked out had passed.

The room was quiet, the kind of stillness that made Y/N’s skin prickle with unease. He watched as Bloom settled on the edge of the mattress, her hands resting limply in her lap. She hadn’t fully relaxed, though. Her shoulders were still tense, her eyes darting around the sparse space as if she were expecting something—maybe trouble, maybe just more bad news. Y/N shifted uncomfortably, staying near the doorway as if keeping his distance would somehow make this situation less awkward.

For a few long moments, neither of them spoke. The tension hung in the air like a thick fog, both of them sitting with their own thoughts. The silence wasn’t necessarily hostile, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was like they were both waiting for the other to make a move, to break whatever this strange, shared moment had become.

Bloom kept her eyes downcast, staring at the floor in front of her. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was processing everything or just trying to avoid any more conversation, but he figured it was best to give her some space. His mind was racing with everything they had both just confessed. He wasn’t sure what to say next, afraid to say the wrong thing and make it worse.

After what felt like an eternity, Bloom finally broke the silence, her voice low but not as sharp as before. “So... how’d you end up in the Otherworld?” she asked, glancing up at him, her expression curious but guarded.

Y/N blinked, a little caught off guard by the sudden question. He stepped further into the room, leaning against the wall as he thought about how to answer. “It’s kind of a long story,” he said with a dry chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

Bloom raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that clearly said, I’ve got time.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve known I was magical since I was a kid,” he began, his voice quieter now, more reflective. “My dad—he’s not magical, but we found out about my powers early on and he helped me keep them a secret. Tried to help me learn how to control them. But... well, things didn’t always go smoothly.”

Y/N chuckled bitterly, his gaze dropping to his hands as if the weight of his memories pressed down on him. “I did well for the most part, but... there were always these little moments when I lost it,” he started, his voice softening, laden with regret. “We pretty much figured out early on that my magic was influenced by my emotions, but we didn’t realize how much—how intense it could get.”

He paused, taking a shaky breath, the memories clearly weighing on him. His fingers twitched as he remembered that day. “One day, I found out my dad was getting deployed overseas for something really dangerous. And I just... I lost it. I mean, what’s a 16-year-old kid with magic he barely knows how to control supposed to do? Stop the government from sending his dad into a war zone?" Y/N’s voice cracked slightly, the bitterness in his tone deepening. "I couldn’t calm down. No matter how hard I tried, the anger and frustration just kept building, and I couldn’t control it. Next thing anybody knew, every pipe, faucet, and drain on the base started spitting out more water than they probably even held.” He swallowed hard, his shoulders slumping as he relived the chaos he had caused.

Across from him, Bloom remained silent, her expression softening with empathy. She knew all too well the feeling of emotions spiraling out of control, of your magic becoming something terrifying when you needed it to stop the most.

Y/N’s eyes were distant, as if he was back in that room, reliving every moment. “That wasn’t even the worst of it,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “When my dad realized what was happening, he tried to calm me down, like he always did. But I was so upset—at the situation, at myself for what I was doing—that I couldn’t get a grip on anything, least of all my magic.” His voice wavered slightly, a tremble beneath his words.

Bloom’s heart clenched as she listened, knowing that feeling of panic, that moment when everything slips through your fingers no matter how much you want it to stop. She watched him closely, seeing the guilt etched into every line of his face.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to Bloom’s for just a second before he looked away again, his voice quieter now. “The room we were in filled up with water faster than either of us could react. It didn’t affect me—my magic just doesn’t, I guess—but it affected him.” His breath hitched, and he swallowed hard. “He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get out. I was drowning my dad, and I couldn’t stop.”

For a moment, the silence between them was palpable, the weight of Y/N’s words hanging heavy in the air. Bloom could feel the knot forming in her own chest, the suffocating pressure of guilt that Y/N clearly carried with him. She had felt it herself, every time she thought of her mom’s burns, every time she thought of what her fire had done.

“I got a grip—barely—and stopped the water before it was too late,” Y/N continued, his voice strained. “But after that... things between me and my dad were never the same. It wasn’t his fault, really. He didn’t blame me, but I could see it in his eyes—he didn’t trust me anymore. And honestly? I didn’t trust myself.”

Y/N ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath as he leaned back against the wall. “That’s when Miss Dowling showed up. My dad knew I couldn’t stay at the base—it was too risky. People were paranoid, on edge, waiting for something else to go wrong. I mean, the base in Hawaii nearly froze over like it had been hit by a winter storm straight out of Michigan. One more slip-up, one more incident, and people would start connecting the dots. If they figured out I was the one behind it all… my life would've been turned completely upside down.” He let out a small, humorless laugh, glancing up to meet Bloom’s gaze. “I didn’t exactly fit into the normal world. And it wasn’t like I had a guidebook for being... whatever this is. Alfea became my only choice.”

His voice trailed off, leaving the room in a thick, heavy silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.

Bloom shifted slightly, her arms wrapped around her knees as she looked at him with understanding in her eyes. “I know what that’s like,” she said quietly, her voice soft but steady. “Hurting people you care about because you can’t control it. That guilt... it doesn’t really go away, does it?”

Y/N’s eyes met hers, and for the first time, he saw that she wasn’t just listening—she understood. Truly. It was like she could feel every ounce of his pain because she had carried it herself.

Bloom’s gaze softened further, her voice carrying a fragile weight. “My mom... those burns... I didn’t mean to hurt her, but I did. And I can’t ever take that back.” She swallowed, her voice wavering just slightly. “It’s not just the guilt—it’s the fear. That constant feeling like you might hurt someone again if you’re not careful.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of Bloom's confession settling between them like a thick, shared burden. He could feel the truth of her words, the way they echoed his own experience. It wasn't just about losing control—it was the fact that, unlike everyone else around them, they didn’t grow up in a world that understood magic. The other students at Alfea, as reckless as some of them were, had grown up with people who knew what magic was, people who could teach them how to control it, guide them, and, more importantly, who could understand and forgive their mistakes because they had made those same mistakes themselves. They had families who knew the risks, mentors who had lived through it all, seen the dangers firsthand. The Otherworld wasn’t new or strange to them—it was home.

But for Bloom and Y/N, it was different. Magic had blindsided their lives. Y/N’s dad didn’t know what to do when his son froze an entire base or nearly drowned him. He barely understood the power his son carried, and once he saw just a fraction of it, the fear in his eyes was enough to change everything between them. It wasn’t the kind of fear that came from misunderstanding—it was the fear of seeing something dangerous in someone you love and realizing you have no idea how to protect them or yourself from it. The same fear that Y/N could see in Bloom's eyes when she talked about her mom’s burns. That kind of shift in perspective cut deeper than any physical wound, because it wasn’t just about fear—it was about losing the trust of the people who mattered most, and knowing that no matter what you did, that trust might never come back.

Y/N shifted slightly, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. He glanced over at Bloom, her eyes downcast as she wrapped her arms tighter around her knees. She looked smaller than before, like the weight of her own story had pressed her into herself. His gaze softened, and after a moment, he broke the silence.

“So... what about you?” Y/N asked quietly, his voice low and steady. “I think I put together bits and pieces, but... what’s your story?”

Bloom glanced up at him, her eyes searching his for a second as if weighing whether or not to trust him. She sighed, running a hand through her fiery hair, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, though her guard wasn’t completely down.

“There's not much to tell,” Bloom began, her voice softer now, a little less guarded. “I grew up in California. Suburbs, you know? My parents are... well, they’re great. Normal. Loving. But they don’t know anything about magic. I didn’t even know until a few months ago.”

Y/N listened quietly, noticing the way her voice wavered just a bit. He didn’t push her—he knew better than anyone how hard it was to relive those moments. Bloom’s eyes remained fixed on the floor, like she was trying to make sense of her own words before speaking them aloud.

Bloom shifted slightly on the mattress, her fingers fidgeting with a stray thread from the blanket. "It started with a fight," she continued, her voice soft but steady. "My mom and I... we don’t really see eye to eye. She’s always been the type who had this image of what her perfect daughter should be—cheerleader, top of her class, the whole thing. And I’m just... not that." Bloom gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe it herself.

Y/N stayed silent, sensing there was more to the story.

"One night, things got really bad between us. I was furious, and I couldn’t calm down." She paused, her hands tightening around the edge of the blanket. "And that’s when it happened. The fire... it just started. It was like everything I was feeling inside was too much, and it just—"

She broke off, swallowing hard, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears. "I didn’t mean to... but the fire spread to their room. My mom... she got burned, really badly." Bloom’s voice trembled with guilt, and she quickly wiped at her eyes, trying to push the tears away. "I could hear them screaming. I wanted to stop it, but I didn’t know how."

The weight of her words hung in the air, thick with the shared understanding between them. Y/N’s heart ached in his chest as he watched her struggle with the memory. He knew that kind of guilt—the kind that stuck with you, that didn’t go away no matter how much time passed.

"They don’t even know it was me," Bloom whispered, her voice barely audible now. "They don’t know what I am... what I did." She finally looked up at Y/N, her eyes filled with a pain that mirrored his own. "I slept in this warehouse for weeks after that. I was terrified I’d hurt them again, that I couldn’t control it. I’d sneak out at night and stay here until... Miss Dowling found me."

Y/N’s brow furrowed as he listened, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. He knew exactly what she meant—the fear, the uncertainty, the crushing realization that no matter how hard you tried, your magic always seemed to have a mind of its own.

“I get it,” he said, his voice sincere. “It’s terrifying. Not knowing when or how it’ll come out again... but also knowing it’s there, waiting.”

Bloom nodded, her gaze distant, lost in thought. “It’s why I came back here tonight. I thought maybe seeing my parents... maybe being here again would help me figure it out. But I don’t belong here anymore, and I don’t know if I ever did.”

Y/N, still leaning against the wall, raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Wait, how did you even get here? I mean... it’s not like there’s a direct flight between the Otherworld and California.”

Bloom blinked, coming back to the moment. “Oh, right... Stella,” she said, her tone holding a hint of reluctance. “She gave me her gateway ring. It opens a portal back to the First World.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait—she just handed it over?”

“Well, not exactly,” Bloom muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “It was more like I was desperate, and Stella... she understood that. So, yeah, she lent it to me. Honestly, I think it was more of a ‘get out of her hair’ type of thing.” She shrugged, but Y/N could hear the gratitude in her voice, buried beneath the layers of frustration.

Y/N let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “A gateway ring... That explains a lot.” He glanced at her, studying her face for a moment before speaking again. “But you don’t think you belong here? You really think that?”

Bloom hesitated, her gaze falling to her hands. “I don’t know where I belong,” she admitted, her voice soft, almost fragile. “I thought this place... home... would give me some answers, but it’s just made me realize how far away from normal my life has gotten.”

Y/N opened his mouth to respond, but something caught his attention. A faint noise, barely perceptible, coming from outside. It was a soft rustling sound, like leaves being disturbed in the distance, but in the stillness of the warehouse, it felt louder than it should’ve been.

He paused, his body tensing slightly as his eyes darted toward the window. “Did you hear that?”

Bloom furrowed her brow, glancing in the same direction but not seeming overly concerned. “What? I didn’t hear anything.”

Y/N hesitated, his instincts on high alert for a moment before he forced himself to relax. “Never mind. Probably just the wind.”

Y/N had barely relaxed when he noticed something unsettling. It was faint at first, a shadow that didn’t quite belong. His eyes flickered to the wall, where an unfamiliar silhouette moved, just beyond the confines of the room. It wasn’t his, nor was it Bloom’s, and there was no way it could be coming from anything else in the sparsely furnished space.

He straightened up slowly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. As the shadow shifted again, Y/N felt his heart rate spike, his body instinctively tensing.

Bloom, still sitting on the edge of the mattress, noticed his change in demeanor. She turned, her eyebrows furrowing. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slowly rose from his sitting position on the floor, standing up on his legs at a snail’s space while looking through  the grimy window above and behind Bloom, peering out into the open space of the warehouse. His breath caught in his throat.

“Y/N?” Bloom asked, more urgently this time, standing up from the mattress herself. She followed his gaze, turning  closer to the window to see through it’s blinds what had petrified him in fear.. The moment her eyes locked onto the scene outside, a gasp escaped her lips.

In the dim light of the warehouse, just a few feet from them, stood a creature that seemed like it had crawled out of their worst nightmares. It was tall and emaciated, with skin that looked like charred, cracked stone. Its long, skeletal limbs hung loosely at its sides, while its head twitched unnervingly, eyes glowing with an ominous red light. The faint shimmer of molten cracks ran down its entire body, giving off the impression that it was a living, breathing furnace that had cooled too soon. The creature’s entire form seemed to absorb the surrounding shadows, blending in with the darkened warehouse as if it were part of the gloom itself.

Its head snapped toward them with a disturbing speed the moment Bloom locked eyes on it, the glowing embers of its gaze fixating on them like a predator that had just spotted its prey.

"Shit!" Y/N cursed, stumbling backward, his heart hammering in his chest as the creature’s burning eyes seemed to pierce straight through the window. Bloom let out a panicked gasp, jumping back in fright, her hands shaking as she stumbled into Y/N.

As she scrambled, her suddenly sweaty hands lost grip of something—Stella’s ring. In the shock of the moment, her grip faltered, and before she knew it, the ring slipped from her grasp, clattering loudly as it fell through one of the metal grates on the floor.

Both of them froze for a moment, eyes wide, as they watched the ring disappear through the grate with a soft metallic clink.

Y/N blinked, staring at the grate in disbelief. "Seriously?" he muttered, his voice laced with sarcastic exasperation. "Of all the times to drop the only thing that can get us out of here."

Bloom looked mortified, her eyes darting between Y/N and the grate. "I didn’t mean to!" she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper as she frantically glanced back toward the window.

The creature was still standing in the open warehouse, its eerie eyes locked on their hiding spot, its head tilting slightly as if trying to pinpoint their exact location.

Y/N shot Bloom a pointed look before his gaze turned back towards the monster on the other side of the wall. "And this is exactly why you people never survive in horror films."

Sky pushed the door to his dorm room open with a weary sigh, his whole body dripping wet from the shower. The towel wrapped around his waist clung to his hips, while droplets of water slid down his skin and into the messy strands of his blonde hair. His muscles ached from the day's training, but his mind raced with a different kind of exhaustion—one tied to the growing web of tension he couldn't quite shake.

As he stepped inside, his eyes widened in surprise. There, sitting on his bed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, was Stella. She leaned casually on the edge of the mattress, her long legs crossed, and her blonde waves tumbled over her shoulders. The subtle shimmer of her top sparkled in the dim light, catching his attention for a fleeting moment. Her expression, though playful on the surface, had a hint of something more—vulnerability, uncertainty. She watched him, her head slightly tilted, her lips parted as if she had been waiting for him to speak first.

Sky let out a frustrated sigh, his hand brushing through his damp hair. He made his way to the dresser, pulling open a drawer to grab some dry clothes.

"You can't be in here, Stel," he muttered, keeping his back to her as he fished for a his trousers. "If Silva finds out..."

Before he could finish the thought, he felt her presence behind him, warm and close. Stella rose from the bed, stepping softly until her body was pressed against his back. Her hand ghosted over his bare skin, making his muscles tense at the unexpected touch. She leaned into him, her voice a soft whisper against his ear.

"I'll leave before the sun comes up," she murmured, her lips brushing against his shoulder in a delicate kiss. Her fingers traced down the length of his arm, drawing shivers in their wake.

Sky’s jaw clenched as he stepped away from her, turning to face her with a mix of frustration and weariness. "You can't pull this shit, Stel... You broke up with me."

Stella's once-confident demeanor crumbled at his words. She stepped back slightly, her arms dropping to her sides. The glimmer in her eyes dimmed as she looked at him, now appearing smaller, more fragile.

"No, I know," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Sky shook his head, exasperation creeping into his tone. "I didn't hear from you all summer, and then I say two words to a first year?"

"I said I know, OK?" Stella cut in, her voice trembling now, her mask of indifference shattered. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes met his, filled with regret, and Sky’s chest tightened. He wasn’t sure if it was anger, confusion, or something more complicated swirling inside of him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just another one of her games.

"What are you doing here?" His voice softened, searching her face for answers.

Stella hesitated, her gaze falling to the floor before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got jealous."

Sky’s brows furrowed in disbelief, and before he could respond, she spoke again, quicker this time, as though she was anticipating his reaction.

"Yeah, I know I'm not allowed to, but I did. And I did something really stupid." Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. "Now they all think I'm a monster."

Sky’s expression softened at that, and for a moment, his heart ached for her. "Oh, Stel..." he started, but she cut him off.

"No, please," she pleaded, her eyes glistening with desperation. "I can't sleep in there, Sky. In a room where everybody hates me." She swallowed hard, her voice trembling with vulnerability. "Please. Tonight, can I just stay with you? Next to someone who doesn't... hate me."

The room was silent, the weight of her words hanging in the air between them. Sky’s gaze softened, and his shoulders dropped as the tension drained from his posture. He could see it now—the cracks in her usually perfect facade, the fear hiding behind her bravado.

"You're better than you think you are, Stella," he said quietly, his voice steady but gentle. "Other people can't see that if you don't."

Bloom and Y/N hit the ground hard, their backs pressed up against the cold concrete wall as their breaths came out in panicked, shallow gasps. The creature's distorted growls echoed throughout the warehouse, sending a chill down Bloom's spine. Her chest heaved, panic clear in her eyes as she whispered in a strained voice, barely able to control her fear.

“What the hell is that thing?” she hissed in a frantic whisper, her hands clutching the edge of the broken concrete behind her.

Y/N's heart was pounding so fast he thought it might burst from his chest. His eyes stayed locked on the ground, too terrified to look up in case the creature’s gaze might catch him through the darkened corners. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice shaky, “but it had to have followed us... from the gateway. Guess I wasn’t the only one doing the following tonight.”

They both held their breath, the silence of the warehouse stretching out unbearably. Seconds dragged on like hours, and for a moment, it felt like the creature had moved on. The air around them was thick with tension, each heartbeat deafening in the quiet space.

Then, the silence shattered. Glass exploded above their heads, spraying shards everywhere as the monster’s twisted, clawed hand burst through the window with a snarl. Its guttural growl reverberated through the space as its fingers clawed wildly, searching for flesh.

Bloom screamed, her body instinctively jerking away from the reaching claws. “Shit, shit, shit!” Y/N cursed, scrambling to his feet as they dodged the creature’s grasp, scrambling across the floor. He tried to summon his magic, but his fingers trembled too much. His mind was a chaotic mess, panic overriding any focus he had.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tight as he whispered through gritted teeth, “The one time I need you to flare up and lose control and nothing? Magic is such an ironic, cold-hearted bitch.”

Bloom grabbed his arm, yanking him toward a narrow corridor where a metal gate led into the crawl spaces under the warehouse. “This way!” she shouted, pulling him along as the monster roared behind them, trying to break through the window and wall  as they descended into the tight space. Bloom softly shutting the floor gate in hopes of not letting alerting it to their location.

Her hopes and prayers were not answered.

Their breaths were ragged as they crawled, the clanging sound of the monster’s claws against the metal grate sending vibrations through their bones. The confined space felt suffocating, but it was their only escape. The pipes lining the walls hissed with steam, their warmth contrasting sharply with the cold terror clinging to their skin.

Then Bloom spotted it—Stella’s ring. It glinted just a few feet ahead, on the other side of another metal gate. "There it is!" she cried out, her voice filled with desperation.

She crawled toward the gate, her fingers reaching through a small hole to grasp the ring. But it was just out of reach, her fingertips barely grazing the surface. “Come on, come on,” she whispered to herself, stretching as far as her arm would allow, her voice growing more frantic. “Please, please, please…”

Suddenly, a deafening roar filled the space as the monster crashed through the opposite end, barreling toward them. Its grotesque form moved faster than Bloom had anticipated. Her heart jumped into her throat, panic flooding her senses.

“It’s too late!” Y/N shouted, his hand grabbing her arm, yanking her back just as the creature's claws swiped toward where she had been. The monster's hand snatched the ring from the ground, and with a viscious snarl, it clutched it tightly in its grotesque fist.

Y/N’s mind raced, searching for any sliver of magic he could control. His fingers twitched, and he focused on the hissing steam escaping from the pipes. With a burst of adrenaline, he manipulated the steam, using it to form a scorching barrier that erupted between them and the monster. The creature shrieked in agony as the steam obscured its vision, giving them precious seconds to escape.

“Go, go, go!” Bloom urged, pulling Y/N forward as they crawled through the narrow path, their bodies barely fitting through the tight spaces.

They burst through another gate, kicking it open just as the creature roared behind them, its footsteps growing fainter as they ran back into the main space of the warehouse. Both of them were out of breath, their bodies trembling from the adrenaline coursing through them. They made a break for it, desperate to get away.

As they ran, they nearly crashed into Miss Dowling, who stood waiting for them at the entrance. Her calm, composed presence was a stark contrast to their frantic energy. "Don't stop now," she commanded, her voice steady but firm.

She pointed toward the door where they had entered from the Otherworld. The gateway shimmered open again, casting a faint golden light.

Bloom and Y/N didn’t need to be told twice. They sprinted for the door, their lungs burning as they crossed the threshold. Miss Dowling stayed behind, and with a wave of her hand, she sealed the portal behind them, cutting off the terrifying sight of the monster charging down the stairs after them while she dealt with it.

Once they were back in the First World, both Bloom and Y/N collapsed onto the grass outside the mausoleum, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Their hearts pounded so loudly it was hard to hear anything else. For a moment, they lay there in stunned silence, the cool night air hitting their sweat-covered skin.

“Are you guys OK?” A sudden voice startled them both, causing Bloom to gasp and Y/N to let out a yelp. They looked up to see Aisha, Musa, Terra, and Sam standing in front of them, their faces etched with concern.

"Yeah," Bloom gasped, trying to compose herself. "Yeah, yeah, I think so."

Y/N, still catching his breath, shot them a bewildered look. “Speak for yourself. I’m over here still trying not to piss my pants. What the hell was that thing?”

Terra frowned thoughtfully, her voice calm but grim. “I’m pretty sure it’s called a Burned One.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, the pieces of his earlier conversation with Sky falling into place. “That’s a Burned One?” he exclaimed, incredulous. “What the fuck? No wonder everyone here is shitting their pants.”

Despite the tension in the air, the others couldn’t help but laugh at Y/N’s outburst, even Bloom managing a small smile.

“I like him,” Musa said with a grin, nudging Terra lightly.

Sam stepped forward, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Your first day and you’ve already gone and probably gotten me banned from the mentor roster for life. Don’t do that again.”

Y/N winced, patting his friend on the back. “Sorry, man. I just saw her walking alone and didn’t want something to happen to her out here by herself.” He glanced around warily. “Now I see why everyone’s so freaked about going beyond the Barrier.”

A tense silence followed until Bloom’s eyes widened with a sudden, dawning realization. Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught in her throat. "Wait... where’s Stella?"

The others exchanged confused glances, not understanding the urgency in her voice. Aisha tilted her head, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"She’s at school. Why?" Aisha asked, clearly not following Bloom’s line of thinking.

Y/N, still catching his breath, turned to look at Bloom. His expression shifted from confusion to grim understanding, his face paling as the pieces started falling into place. The heavy weight of what had just transpired settled between them, thick and suffocating.

Bloom’s eyes were wide, a sinking feeling gnawing at her insides as the memory flashed before her—the twisted monster, its grotesque hand swiping at her hand in the crawlspace before Y/N pulled her back. This was not going to be easy to explain to the Princess in the morning.

"That thing just took her ring."

To be continued...

☀️ | Prince Sky Masterlist | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[vaaaaaiolet]

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket. A kiss is bestowed upon on your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. “This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

Leon keeps his best tales under lock and key, and you crack one out of him on a particularly sleepless night. He thinks you might like this one.

f / m, fluff sprinkled in with angst and emotional hurt, insomnia, grief + mourning, leon is a sweetheart he just loves you :(, he basically tells you a fairy tale before bed

word count: 1.6k // read on ao3

a/n: um. norman fucking rockwell, baby. if you catch the lyrics from "How to disappear", i love you. i wrote this fic like i was possessed 😭 nothing was planned

There aren’t any waves outside your landlocked bedroom window to lull you to sleep, but there is another ocean view you can think of. You turn to the other side of your pillow, biting your lip hopefully.

“Hi, sweetheart,” the view mumbles, ocean eyes groggy and losing the fight against sleep.

You’re in luck.

“Leon,” you whisper. 

“Mm.”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Don’t know why…you’re not tired,” he yawns, his blond lashes almost fluttering closed before snapping open at your wide-eyed expression, “when you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

You cram the comforter to your chin and flip to the other side of the bed with a groan. 

Leon chuckles, giving your shoulder a sleepy shake, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” 

He’s not sorry. But you relent anyway. 

“Tell me a story,” you mumble as he tucks you back in.

You brush a strand of hair across his forehead to unveil those ocean eyes again. They’re faded and tired, yes, but they’ve also seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. The only good thing to come out of Leon’s mysterious missions to the ends of the earth is the treasure trove of stories he brings back with him, like a Cave of Wonders, filled with only the best for you to unlock. You don’t know anything about the outside of that cave – he stops telling the story if you ask – and you’re not in any position to argue as the clock ticks closer to morning.

“What’s the magic word?” he nudges.

Is he really going all open sesame on you too?

“Tell me a story, please?” you add, hiding a smile under the edge of the blanket.  

A kiss is bestowed upon your forehead and the cave opens for the night. Leon clears his throat theatrically. 

“This story is about a girl, and a boy who loved her very much.”

“One thing you have to know before I start anything though, sweetheart, is that this girl was a spitfire. Completely unreasonable. She was the type to pack a grocery cart full of ice cream she swore was on discount only to have all of it be full price and melt in the checkout line.”

(“That was one time!”)

“Never said a thing about it being you, sweetheart, shh. You’re supposed to be trying to sleep. But either way, this girl couldn’t be you because she was a princess – a real pretty one at that. Sweet, smart and kind like little girls grow up wanting to be. She lived in a castle by the sea on an island in the middle of nowhere, and here’s what I heard about her on my last mission. You’ll like this one.

“Life on that island was as peaceful as you can get in a fairy tale. She had plenty of mermaids for friends and animals to keep her company, but you can’t help getting lonely after the years start passing by. The princess was stuck there, you see.”

(“How’d she get there to begin with?”)

“Uh-uh, you’re interrupting me.” Leon teases. “Story or no story?”

(“Story, please.”)

“Magic, alright? Say she got stolen away by some evil witch like Rapunzel did and her kidnapper drowned in the sea. I don’t know. But it didn’t really matter because that island became home after a while. A beautiful home, but lonely all the same. The mermaids all returned to their castle under the sea when the moon came up and the princess wished had somebody she could sleep next to when it got cold at night. 

“She was fond of stories too, like somebody else I know, and after all those years on that island, she’d read every book in the castle and longed for someone who could tell her something new. All she ever wished for on her birthday was a friend. ‘Just for a little bit’, she’d beg.”

Leon sucks in a careful breath.

“So one night, the ocean decided to send the princess a birthday present just like she asked. A magic tide deposited a little boat on the edge of her island, and when the princess woke up the next morning and looked outside her window, she saw something – or rather, somebody – slumped inside of that boat.”

(“And inside that boat was a prince?”)

“No prince. The princess made sure of it too, brave thing that she was, walking right up to the boat and taking a good look at who was sleeping inside of it. 

“The boy inside that boat was dead to the world with cuts on his face from fighting too hard. He gave the princess a good scare ‘cause he was so asleep she thought he was actually dead. When he woke up and asked ‘Who are you?’, she nearly punched him out of fright.”

(“You were right, I think I like her.”)

Leon laughs, bright and warm.

“But this boy was a real charmer, and the princess was kind, remember?”

(“Bummer.”) 

“She didn’t go around punching people out of nowhere. Especially not the first human she’d ever seen. Her curiosity got the best of her and she took the boy to her castle, where he told her he was a mercenary from a faraway kingdom. He’d been on his way to kill a rampaging sea monster when a mysterious wind blew his boat off course and right onto the princess’ island. 

“Over breakfast, the mercenary told her stories about monsters, jungles, fire-breathing dragons, stuff she’d only ever read about. She was entranced. The more he spoke, the more the princess wanted to see for herself even though she knew she couldn’t. She had to be smart about it.”

Leon swallows. He nestles the blanket around you a little tighter, like you’d slip out of his grasp, and continues.

“The boy was battered from the beating he took from his voyage, so the princess nursed him back to health. I told you she was stubborn, right? She wouldn’t take any of the gold or jewels he tried offering her from his travels. All she asked for was a new story each day he stayed with her. He agreed.

“The first week went by in a flash. The princess borrowed magic green herbs from her mermaid friends to heal the mercenary faster. The herbs made him strong enough to move mountains if he wanted to, so he pounded a couple to the ground outside her castle just to prove he could when she asked, and with the new space, the princess made him a place to stay. Turns out she was a great businesswoman; the boy spun tale after tale for her while she fixed a loneliness deep in his bones. Everything was perfect.”

(“Aww…”) 

“The boy stayed longer than he thought he would. His boat collected dust as that week turned into months. Those months grew into a year. The princess’ birthday rolled around again.”

(“Did they fall in love?”)

“They did, sweetheart.”

Leon chuckles softly.

“He ended up loving her a lot, and the princess loved him too, don’t get me wrong, but that’s not usually how it goes in fairy tales, is it? There’s a catch.”

You reach for Leon’s hand in the deep of the comforter, not remembering when he let go.

“Good sailors know not to mess with the ocean. It wasn’t too pleased with the princess keeping the boy to herself for more than just a little bit, not when he needed to get rid of that sea monster that had been killing millions of innocent people. So on the night of the princess’ birthday, the sea asked the boy to go back to being a mercenary. He needed to do his job and the princess wasn’t part of it.”

(“Tell me he stayed, Leon.”)

“Princess, I can’t-”

(“Make him stay.”)

And for the first time, Leon stutters because he never changes the story.

“A-Alright, so the boy stays. He tells the sea that he fell in love and can’t bear to leave the princess behind.”

(“And then?”)

“And then…and then he finds out he’s in over his head. The tide comes and goes, everything has to have a balance. He needed to go because he had to protect all those people, and he couldn’t do that by staying with the princess no matter how much he loved her, right?”

Lifting the blanket aside, Leon falls onto his back. You watch the ceiling fan blades spin in the dull sea-blue of his eyes. 

“The princess asked him to stay and he couldn’t say no to her. She meant well. She didn’t…she didn’t know. And they were happy together on that island until the boy’s decision caught up with him. The sea monster he was supposed to kill found their island one day, sweetheart.”

(“...Leon, no. That’s not supposed to happen.”)

“It’s how the story goes,” he murmurs, gently pressing his lips to yours.

You barely feel it; you taste saltwater in his kiss, feel it running down your face.

“But you changed it!” You’re crying, can’t find his hand. Where’d he go? He’s supposed to be here, you changed the stupid story, you have to make him stay. 

The ocean might not be outside your window, but you still see it behind glass as you prop yourself up on your elbows, heaving for breath only to find Leon’s framed picture sitting beside your pillow.

His eyes are so blue. Ghostly in the dark. 

You must have dropped it when sleep took you under. Your earbuds are still hooked up to a podcast in an earlier effort to bore yourself to sleep, but you don’t really want to hear about relaxing Zen gardens right now. Tugging everything out of your ears, your shaking finger opens the notes app. 

Right now, you’re in the mood for a story. A story with a happy ending where no one goes anywhere.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[dollysdarlings]

──── IN BETWEEN

ETHAN LANDRY x reader

#SYNOPSIS: based off of in between by gracie abrams; he wants it more than everything in between #CONTAINS: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff!!! #AUTHORSNOTE: my first fic ever so pls be nice, any constructive criticism welcomed! 1.8k word count.

There was something going on between you two, the entire group could feel it- see it. Nobody could come between you, it was almost electric, the chemistry. You've got your own thing; they wish that you two could see it.

It started at a frat party to kick off the upcoming Blackmore school year. It was huge, far too many people were crammed into one space, and inevitably, you bumped into him.

"Oh!" you gasped as you practically slammed into him, spilling the contents of the red solo cup in your hands, making you curse under your breath. "I'm- I'm so, so sorry!" your words slur a bit, you've already had a little too much to drink, and your hands immediately moved to grab his arm to stabilize yourself.

"Let me fix it!" You don't even give him a chance to respond, you're already tugging him through the crowd and into the crowded kitchen, grabbing napkins and pressing them into the wet stain on his shirt.

"It's- It's okay." He tries to say over the music, but it falls on deaf ears, as you speak over him. "What's your name?"

The question catches him off guard for a second, and he can't help but glance around for his much more outgoing and social roommate as he speaks over the music. "Ethan."

"What?" You respond dumbly, leaning closer to him to hear him better.

"Ethan!" He tries again, speaking a little louder this time, his cheeks burning from the alcohol in his system and the proximity.

"Evan?" You say, brows stitching in confusion. Ethan shakes his head and leans in a little closer, a small smile forming on his face as he stops your hands movements with his own to get your full attention.

"It's Ethan." He corrects loudly this time, taking the napkins from your hands to dab at his shirt himself. You absentmindedly nod your head, mouth opening in a soft 'ohh' that tells Ethan you definitely didn't hear him still, and he can't help the way he grins and throws his head back in a laugh.

And you can't help the way you smile at the sound, laughing alongside him, even though you didn't find it all that funny, his joy was infectious to you, almost magnetic.

The rest of the friend group knew you two had something special, from the way Ethan dropped everything when you called, stopping mid-conversation if the phone rang with your caller ID like he couldn't stand the idea of letting you wait, or god forbid, missing your call.

"What if it's important?" He'd say when someone questioned him, they wished he'd stop pretending he wouldn't let his phone ring for more than a couple of seconds, maybe two.

Just two hearts falling in and out of love for something new.

The rest of the group wished that you could see it, the way you both light up the room with your smiles alone when you're together. They wished that you could see it, the spark in his eyes when he talks about you, or the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking.

Not that you were any better, of course.

There was one day when the group was hanging out in the Carpenter sisters' apartment, it was supposed to be a quiet movie night, you were all wearing matching pajama pants, there were snacks surrounding the coffee table, and they were all piled onto the furniture, and you and Ethan had squeezed into an armchair together.

It was the best seat in the house, you'd both said. Nobody argued or complained, allowing you both to cram into the armchair together despite the ample space on the couch, sharing knowing looks as you and Ethan fought over the blanket you were sharing.

About halfway through the film, Ethan had maneuvered himself to be leaned across your lap, laying his head on the armrest as he made himself comfortable. You tore your attention away from the movie, glancing down at him, expression softening as your hand moved to his head, absentmindedly playing with his hair, gently moving it out of his eyes so he could still see the television.

"Look at them," Tara whispers to Mindy from her spot on the couch, gesturing towards the unassuming pair. "They're so... domestic."

"they're so obvious-" Mindy says, but she's cut off by Chad's snickering. "The other day, Eth asked me if I wanted a peanut butter and y/n-ly sandwich."

"Who do you think will make the first move?" Tara asks quietly, turning her attention towards the two, who were, by now, curled up around each other, fast asleep as the rest of their friends placed their bets.

Ethan never was the party type, but for you, he'd go.

He'd go just to see that tipsy, lopsided smile on your face as you mingled in the crowd, he'd endure the loud music just to hear your voice, just barely over the music, calling out to him as you stumbled over to him.

He'd always imagined that it'd be one of these parties that he'd confess to you since this is how you two had met. There was something… romantic about seeing you in low, neon lights. He can't help the way his eyes soften as you stumble into his awaiting arms, he'd always be there for you.

"Ethan!" You say over the music, hands on his arms to stabilize yourself. "Dance with me!"

"What!" He responds, a grin plastered on his face. "No way!"

"Come on!" You plead with him.

He shakes his head again, still grinning at you, he's too busy admiring your eyes under the lights to bother indulging you. "Fine," you huff. "I'll dance with someone else."

His heart drops at your words, but he's left letting out a sigh of relief when it's Tara that you go to, who, bless her heart, is just as drunk as you are. Ethan can't help but laugh at the sight of you two dancing in each other's arms, carefree and drunk well off your asses.

He does that often, he realizes. He laughs so often with you, it's like everything about him is so much brighter in your presence, you light a fire within him, and he doesn't know how to put it out, but he doesn't think he wants to.

Ethan feels two hands gripping his shoulders, jolting him out of his daydreams as he turns to face who it is, coming face to face with Chad, who gives him a slight shake, before leaning in to talk into his ear.

"Just talk to her man!" He says, jostling him further as he grinned at him.

"Who?" Ethan replies, but he knows who, he hasn't been able to take his eyes off said 'who' all night.

"Don't play dumb with me." Chad scoffs, and Ethan finally peels his attention away from you to roll his eyes at him and respond, except he's interrupted by yelling cutting through the loud music,

He turns immediately, eyes searching for you in the crowd, and he spots you just in time to watch you get a drink thrown in your face, instantly wiping away the apologetic look you had on your face, leaving you standing there, sopping wet.

Shame and embarrassment flood your system, sobering you up in an instant as people whisper amongst themselves about your misfortune. Your eyes search for Ethan amongst the crowd, making eye contact with him before you bolt out of the party with tears in your eyes.

Ethan doesn't hesitate to call after you, following you out before you can spend another second alone.

He catches up to you about half a street down from the frat house, calling out to you, which, for the first time, you ignored. You wrapped your arms around yourself, the cold night air chilling you through your soaked top.

"Just- slow down!" He says finally, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to him.

You're spun around to face him, and he almost falters at the sight of your tears, your makeup staining your tear-stricken face. You shake your head at him before a sob rips through you.

He hates it when you cry, the way your sobs rip through his heart. He hates it when you frown, and your features contort so painfully. It makes him ache, it breaks his heart into pieces.

He pulls you into his arms, not caring about the way your makeup smudged onto the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face into his chest. He rubs your back in soothing circles.

"This party was lame anyway." He whispers. "Let's get you home."

It's late, you two are curled up on your couch, your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear to try and cheer you up, his fingers are messing with your hair.

"You're... you're beautiful, and funny, and smart like nothing I've ever seen." He murmurs, loose-lipped from the alcohol he'd consumed not even an hour prior.

You loved how he talked late at night when it was just the two of you, like you were the center of his universe, saying things nobody had ever said to you before.

"You think so?" You asked, voice soft and still disheartened.

"Yeah." He says, not skipping a beat. "Yeah, I know so."

You sit up, leaning into him to press your forehead against his, a smile playing on your lips as you cheekily respond.

"You're not too bad yourself" You murmured.

"Yeah?" He grins.

"Yeah." The sight of his grin made your eyes soften, a soft grin on your lips.

Hesitantly, he raised a hand to cup your face. There's a slight tremble to his hand, like he's nervous. This was it, he tells himself. This was it.

"You... you know you're my best friend, right?" He asks you quietly. "I mean-- I know you know, but like, do you? Do you know how important to me you are? Because you're super important to me."

"I mean, there's... there isn't anyone who even comes close to you in my eyes, you're like-" He's cut off by lips crashing onto his, stopping his rambling with a gentle kiss.

It feels like there's holy ground beneath them, and Ethan swears there are sparks flying as he kisses you back. The kiss is clumsy, but it's sweet, slow, and full of unspoken adoration.

Ethan pulls back with a fond expression, you're both red-faced and grinning like fools, and you lean in to kiss him again, but you're interrupted by the door to your apartment opening.

"I owe Tara so much money now." Chad groans, the rest of their group behind him, while their friends whooped and hollered.

"Get out!" You grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and threw it in their direction, Ethan just laughed, his hand finding yours.

He loves you more than everything in between.

[blackhairedjjun]

the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader | genre / tropes: fluff, friends to lovers, reader who likes to cook, ft. friend!taehyun | word count: 2.7k | warnings: food, some profanity

author's notes: yeonjun birthday fic made it on time!! this was more rushed than my usual writing bc i was cramming it in between work, i've been super busy these days :'( but i've wanted to do yeonjun with an s/o who loves to cook for him for a while, and his birthday was the perfect opportunity to write it. so i'm relieved to get this out!

this fic has been cross-posted to ao3 here

the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.

you never believed the sentiment yourself until your friend taehyun invited you to hang out with some of his other friends. at the first mention you had doubts about going, but when taehyun mentioned the word potluck, you just couldn’t resist 一 he knew it was a magic word for you.

you didn’t prepare anything too fancy, just a modest batch of tteokbokki. you love how comforting the dish was, from the warm and spicy aroma of the sauce to its soft and springy rice cakes, and it’s a safe thing to make to leave a good impression on taehyun’s friends. at his house you set your tteokbokki on the makeshift buffet table that he had set up, and pray that the guests would actually give your dish a chance.

you underestimated just how much of an impact it would have.

taehyun’s friends love it, but one friend in particular catches your eye. as he takes his first bite his expression changes, his whole face seemingly glowing with delight. his smile is so wide that he’s barely able to keep his mouth shut to chew, and he squirms in his seat in a little dance.

you’ve cooked for others plenty of times before, but you’ve never seen anyone so utterly transformed by your cooking.

“this is so good! mm, i’m so happy... this is so yummy, really... wait, who brought this again?”

taehyun gestures towards you. “y/n cooked it. they’re really good, right? this is, well, it’s their thing.”

his friend whips his head towards you, the wide smile still plastered on his face. it reaches all the way to his eyes, and you see the way they shine in appreciation.

“thank you so much for bringing this,” he says. “can you make this again when you come back?”

you’ve only known this friend for an hour or so and he’s already talking about coming back, which makes your heart flutter and your face grow warm. “s-sure, i’d love to.”

it’s a few months before you’re free again to come to the next hangout, and when taehyun reintroduces you to his friends you note the name of the one whose face lit up at your tteokbokki: yeonjun. this time you’ve brought some spaghetti cooked in freshly made tomato sauce, and again it’s a hit. yeonjun loves it as much as the tteokbokki, and when he’s slurped up his plate and cleaned up he thanks you profusely and looks at you as if you were a saint 一 the patron saint of good food, perhaps. you can’t help but give him a shy smile, and you swear that his cheeks turned a little pink at the gesture.

the day flies by in the presence of good food and good company. when you finally have to leave, yeonjun stops you for a moment; he meets your gaze head on, but the fidgeting of his hands betrays him.

“d’you want to hang out sometime? just you and me, i mean.”

“oh, are you sick of taehyun too?”

from the corner of your eye you see your mutual friend laugh and give you a sly grin. your remark seems to fluster yeonjun, though; he turns his head away to collect himself, which only makes taehyun laugh a bit more.

“i was kidding, i was kidding. but yeah, i’d love to hang out.”

“cool, great.” 

“yeah, cool.”

you try to play it off but your heart pounds in your ears. and though yeonjun is leaning against the wall and trying to seem calm about the whole thing, his heart is racing just as much.

you don’t cook for your first hangout together (he brings you to his favorite ramen shop in the area, which also happens to be your favorite ramen shop in the area) but on your second hangout you make an impromptu meal by cobbling together a stew from whatever you have in your fridge. yeonjun devours it, eating every vegetable and chunk of meat and sip of stew with pure joy all over his face, and when he’s done he stands up to wash the dishes for you. you try to stop him, only for him to gently take your hand before you can grab a sponge. his touch sends a jolt of electricity right through you.

“let me do this for you,” he says. “i wanna thank you for the meal.”

“you don’t have to, yeonjun, i just threw a bunch of stuff together in a pot一”

“please?” he says with a pout. “you’re so sweet for making this, let me repay you.”

his eyes meet yours and you feel your heart soften at the way he looks at you. “okay, fine... and thank you.”

you hang out with him many more times 一 sometimes he invites you, other times you invite him. there’s always a bit of food to share, whether it’s snacks from the convenience store or a home-cooked meal by yourself, but it’s the little moments between the bites of food that make the time worth it. 

one hot afternoon yeonjun helps you clean up after your ice cream has melted and dripped on you, and his hands brush against yours as he dabs an extra napkin against a messy spot on your sleeve. another evening you laugh when he spills some of his pasta out of his plate from too much excitement, and you tut playfully as you give him a bit of your share. on another day you plan to have breakfast together at a nice restaurant to watch the sunrise, only for both of you to stay up late and oversleep. instead you invite him over and team up to make lunch, and soon your kitchen is a mess of flour and breadcrumbs from the breaded pork cutlets you’re trying to make. you sing along to yeonjun’s playlist as you soak a piece of pork in egg, and next to you he draws a heart with the flour residue on the countertop.

you don’t know when exactly your hangouts cross the threshold into dates, but at one point you realize that things feel different when it’s just you and him around. the world feels smaller, the light of day feels brighter,  and even the meals you cook seem to stay warmer for longer. taehyun catches up with you over text as usual all throughout, and when you tell him about your friendship with yeonjun, he simply texts back: friendship?

一

when yeonjun’s birthday draws near, you know exactly what you want to do: make one of his favorite foods, pho, from scratch. finding a good recipe online is easy, and visit to your local market provides you with every ingredient you need. it’s not the most complicated thing you’ve tried to make, and watching videos of other chefs try it out gives you a bit of confidence.

so why on earth are you so damn nervous to make it? 

“i’ve never been so scared to fuck up a dish in my life,” you tell taehyun as you skim some fat off the top of the broth simmering away in a pot. it’s the day of yeonjun’s birthday and you’ve got another hangout (or date?) later that night, and taehyun has offered to help with preps. 

“when you’re scared for something, it just means that you care a lot about it,” he says. he looks up from chopping the onions for the pho and gives you a nod. “you’ve cooked gifts for other people before, you can definitely do this.”

“that’s exactly it!” you say, tossing away the scum you’ve collected. “i made a whole pizza for your birthday this year, taehyun. i roasted pork for my parents’ wedding anniversary, and that should’ve been way scarier than this. but with yeonjun, i… i feel like i can’t fuck this up. if i think about serving him bad pho or even mediocre pho and him getting sad over it, it makes me want to throw myself out of here and go into hiding forever. i’ve never felt like that about anything before.”

“you’ve known him for a few months, not as long as you’ve known me. you want to show the best of yourself for him.” taehyun smiles. “that’s not a bad thing at all.”

“i guess.” you fidget with a wooden spoon as you mull over his words. he’s right, but it’s not like you wanted to settle for mediocrity with your other friends or with your parents either. there’s something else at play, but you dare not admit it out loud. (taehyun already knows anyway, you figure.)

you’re glad to have your friend’s company in the hours it takes for the broth to fully absorb all the flavors. taehyun puts on some of your favorite shows and helps you stretch to ease away your stress, and though you check on your pot from time to time, the two of you also prepare your space. he tells you about his own forays into cooking — he recently ordered a new set of knives that he can’t wait to try — as you place a clean tablecloth on the dining table and wash a set of bowls. his company grounds you and makes the nervousness swirling around in your stomach feel more like a gentle current than a roaring wave.

with the broth done and most of the pho ingredients ready for assembly, the two of you are waiting for the rice noodles to cook when a text from yeonjun arrives.

i’ll be there in 15 mins!

taehyun reads the text over your shoulder and grins. “do you need any more help with the pho?”

“nah, i’m good.”

“that means i can leave, then,” he says with an odd half-smile you rarely see on him. “enjoy your dinner with yeonjun.”

“thanks, taehyun. hey, wait一”

he picks up his bag in record speed and when you blink, he’s at your doorway. “tell me about it over text.”

“hey!”

he’s gone.

you’ve never seen taehyun leave your apartment so fast, and you suspect he knows something that you don’t. still, you don’t let yourself worry about it too much, not when preparing your pho should be the first thing on your mind. you check back on the noodles boiling away in your pot and let out a sigh.

i hope this turns out well, you think.

一

“so, y/n, what do you have ready for tonight? i hope it’s go一 oh...”

“happy birthday, yeonjun.”

whatever remark he was about to make fades into silence when you set down two bowls of pho in front of him. he’s entranced by the savory aroma, the steam swirling upward from each bowl, the noodles and thin slices of onions nearly glistening under the light. you see his lips form a perfect O, the way it always does when his favorite food shows up in front of him.

he doesn’t notice the way your hands tremble as you set down each bowl, or the way your eyes nervously dart back and forth between the pho and his expression. you wonder if he’s excited enough, if the pho will live up to his expectations, then you look at his bowl and think maybe he would like more noodles, maybe the cilantro should be fresher, maybe the broth isn’t salty or sour or spicy enough...

taehyun always said you’re your own worst critic, and you feel all the little criticisms coming in one after the other as you settle down opposite yeonjun. he does a little dance in his seat as he squeezes the lime over the bowl, then looks at you with a smile that lights up his whole face. “it smells so good,” he says. “i can’t wait!”

that’s one good sign, but nothing definitive.

“well, i won’t keep you waiting any longer,” you say. “dig in!”

“thank you for the food!”

the moment it takes for him to slurp up the noodles feels like an eternity to you. as you watch him eat, you pray that the first slurp was as good as it should be, that the noodles were firm enough. then he looks up from the bowl and at you, and you pray that—

he’s smiling. 

it’s different from his earlier excited smile. this one also reaches all the way up to his eyes, but it’s laced with pure adoration. you’ve seen the way his face changes after eating good food countless times, but now this expression seems more tender; he gazes at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life.

you swallow. “is it… good?”

“good? it’s amazing. y/n… you’re so good to me.”

you’re smiling back at him too, and something blooms in you as you gaze back. you feel full of many things: relief, appreciation, affection…

maybe even love.

you feel it bloom as you watch him slurp on the broth and savor each piece of beef with gusto, stopping only to gush about how good it is and how good you are. you feel it settle in you when you dig into your own bowl, savoring the rich flavors of the beef and spices and lime that you poured yourself into, not caring when a bit of broth dribbles off your chin or a noodle falls off and yeonjun giggles at the sight. and you feel it grow in your heart when you try to reach for his empty bowl to wash up, only for him to take your hand again. this time you feel not a jolt of electricity but a wave of warmth.

“rest, you worked hard today. i’ll clean up.”

“it’s your birthday, yeonjun! you are not washing the dishes on your birthday.”

“but what if i want to?” he pouts at you and he knows you can’t resist. “or we can wash them together? what if i want to spend my birthday washing up with you?”

you sigh but relent.

you don’t dare say it to him, but washing up with yeonjun is… comforting. it takes longer than usual, but you don’t mind as he talks about the gift his mom mailed him or about his plans with taehyun and the other guys tomorrow. he tells you some pretty bad dad jokes and you nearly drop the last bowl you’re rinsing from laughing at how awful they are.

he’s still laughing as he pries the clean bowl from your hands and sets it on the rack to dry, and as his hands brush yours, you meet his gaze. he’s looking at you with that same tender look from when he first tried the pho, and your cheeks begin to warm.

“thank you for cooking for me.”

“of course, i want to—”

“you’re always so good to me,” he says. he takes your hands in his, and yours start to tremble; it’s okay, because his do too. “i’ve never had someone who treated me like this before. i want to… i…”

he falters and looks away from you, and you see a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. he sucks in a breath and when he looks at you again, you move your face closer to his.

you don’t remember who initiates the kiss; all you know is that his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. he wraps his arms around you and you relax in his arms, knowing that nothing your ever make will taste as sweet as this.

when you break apart for air he looks sheepish, nothing like the confident friend you’ve known, but you love the way his eyes shine. his voice is breathy when he speaks: “i like you, y/n.”

“i like you too,” you say, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and brushing your nose against his. a second kiss would be even sweeter, and his lips nearly brush against yours when…

your phone rings and you nearly jump out of his arms.

“what the hell!”

it’s taehyun.

beomgyu i think hyung would be confessing right about now

oh wrong chat

hi y/n :)

[angelliicc]

peach soda

“you're a peach soda, flavor of my heart

a fruit that resembles the shape of love.”

masterlist

a/n HI EVERYONE! lowkey changed careers tbh. anyways enjoy this fic and go stream aboutzu!!

warnings not proofread, angst, mentions of ex bf

| "alright, time for jeopardy. move the chairs and desks in tables." your math teacher said. jeopardy was a fun way your class could study for any math tests. he was your favorite teacher.

"ellie, you're on my jeopardy team." you told her. you never really liked ellie as a person and you avoided her most of the time. she was kind of a bitch, but she was one of the last options. she was smart, but not as smart as you. she would only get in trouble for doing something stupid.

"you need help?" she whispered. if people were caught helping each other, they were eliminated from that round. "really quick before we get disqualified." you told her. ellie showed you her notes, and they way she solved the problem. it made sense now after seeing her notes.

you raise your hand, waiting for you answered to be checked. your teacher notices your hand raised, looks at the whiteboard and analyzes is. "that is correct." he told you.

"thanks." you told ellie.

"anytime." you were flustered by the kind gesture, since she only rarely interacted with you.

after school, you text dina about the situation that happened in math. d: "i need a little more background history with her."

r: "she used to bully me and be an asshole, but shes sweeter now. she likes to tease me. and her laugh, its so cute."

the next day at school, you had p.e outside. you decided to play basketball because you needed to get some work in. ellie was walking to the bathroom while seeing you play, her waving and smiling to you. you waved back and shot a smiled. when you didn't see her anymore, your cheeks turned bright red. when she came back, she went down the stairs giving you a hi-five, but intentionally missed, a laugh escaping her mouth. "fuck you." you replied, then both end up smiling.

after that interaction, you saw ellie at a different court, playing king of the court. you dropped your ball and ran to the other court. you invited yourself in until she spoke; "check up."

you bounce back the ball, being in defense. "wide out your stance." she told you. "thanks...??" you said confused, but also relieved with her advice.

she scored on you, but after that she went and played tennis with some of her friends.

a couple of weeks later, the trimester ended. which meant you switched seats in every class except math.

in social studies and religion, ellie sat next to you. in ela, she sat across from you in a table.

social studies had a trimester long lesson, which meant you had to cram for tests and take speedy notes. you finished yours early because you followed the slideshow on your computer. "can i see your notes?" she asked you, since she couldn't catch up. "sure." you replied. "can you help me?" she asked quietly. you helped ellie on the notes. government was really easy to you, so you explained it as simply as possible.

on thursday, you were back at social studies with ellie. you had p.e. before then, so you sprayed perfume in the bathroom. she notices by the smell of you. "whats that smell?" she asked you.

"its my perfume." you told her.

"can i have it really quick?" she questioned. you grab the perfume out of your backpack and hand it to her. as you hand it to her, you both hold hands for a split second, which made you grow a smile you had to keep hidden. she grabbed the perfume and sprayed it on herself, smiling at you. "not bad." she said. you smiled back.

after that, you both did more notetaking together. you guys were ahead, so you played wordle, helping each other out.

in ela class, a classmate asked ellie a question. "hey ellie, who are your reposts about?" they questioned

"oh, just this beautiful girl." she replied to them, looking at you while the words exited her mouth. you froze.

"what the fuck did she say?" you thought.

"nah im playin." she told the classmate, easily dismissing them.

"so, then are your reposts about d?" they replied. you didn't know who d was.

"yeah, i like her."

your jaw dropped, not it sadness, but in surprise. not expecting her to like another girl, after all of this? she just lead you on, and for what? you were incredibly pissed.

a week passed, so you texted dina.

r: "i dont like her anymore."

d: WHAT??

r: "i know. shes been distant and ignoring me. so im just like 'okay fuck you i don't care about you anymore."

weeks later, feelings slowly started to burn out. you had a math test earlier today. after any tests or quizzed, your teacher lets you take a haul pass and lets you walk outside to get fresh air. just by coincidence, you and your ex walked around the school at the same time.

"i gotta take a retake later this week." he told you

"just take your time and memorize the answer sheet since you already have it." you replied.

later in the week, your ex came up to you, asking for a favor. you both were on student council together and had to lead morning prayer and pledge.

"hey, can you do me a favor?" he asked, walking up to you before assembly started.

"whats up?" you question, curiously.

"i have 2 tests to study for, and the teacher told me i can ask someone to do it for me. if not ill ask someone else." he spoke

"sorry, i have to study for a test too. if i didn't though i would." you told him.

"its alright, thanks tho."

at lunch, you saw him again. you realized he completely forgot about. you walked up to him, telling him about it. "yo, go do your retake." you reminded him.

"oh shit i completely forgot, thank you for reminding me." he replied thankfully.

after school, you usually stayed later because of sports. you had some free time before practice, so that day you planned on walking to the boba shop. before you left you overheard a classmate asking your ex if they both wanted to walk together. you go up to them, "hey im gonna go right now if any of yall wanna come with me." you asked. "im gonna wait a while, thanks tho." your ex said.

you walked to the boba shop, placing your order. just as you were about to leave, you see both of them. "you both gonna stay after school a while?" you asked.

"nah, im gonna head home." he replied.

"alright, see you tomorrow." you told him.

a few weeks later, ellie started to talk to you again. you folded--as one does and added her to your close friends.

hours later, she liked your story. you were jumping for joy.

the next day at school, she was back to being flirty with you. maybe its because she heard about the interaction with your ex boyfriend? in science, you had to proofread reports. and to by some surprise, you were assigned to ellie.

in your report you decided to show her a graph you were proud of. "do you like it?" you asked her. she grabbed your computer and analyzed the report, then after going through the whole report, taking her time to make sure you had no mistakes whatsoever. you tried to not blush during the whole time. "good job." she told you

after you proofread hers, she commented on your hands. "god, your hands are so small? and you're older than me?"

"idk, genes maybe?" you told her.

"here." she grabbed your hand and compared hand sizes with you. you stomach was doing flips. "maybe i do like her again. fuck." you thought.

you both had ela next period. seats were changed earlier this time, since people couldn't stop talking. ellie, somehow, sat near you. this time, behind you.

you wore a slim fit jacket, enhancing your body figure. ellie noticed. "like your jacket." she commented.

"thanks." you said back. she kept touching your back with her fingers, playing with your jacket, freezing with every finger she laid on you.

the following days, more social studies classes with her. she kept flirting and smiling with you. she shushed you today, in a cute way. god it made your heart skip a beat.

later in that same class, you were walking. all of a sudden she trapped you in a hug form. "oh my god ellie, let me go." you say smiling at her. "alright, alright, fine." she said surrendering, then smiling back at you, having that rosy touch on her cheeks.

from that day on, she kept being flirty with you. touching and tapping your shoulders constantly. with every touch, your heart rate always increased. she was acting so cute towards you, it was driving you crazy. like she was a little puppy who couldn't be apart from you.

few classes and tension later, a classmate asked ellie a question. you were too far away to hear them, but since ellie was next to you, you heard her response. "oh yeah? shes my valentine." ellie replied.

you were screaming inside, trying to not show a reaction. few minutes later, it was back to notetaking time. ellie put her hand on your shoulder for 10 seconds, which felt like an eternity to you. after that, she patted your back, 3 times. you turned and faced her, face turning red.

you noticed ellie likes to play this stupid game with you. she'll whisper your name, then act completely clueless. she whispered your name, hearing it loud and clear. you looked at her.

"what! it wasn't me!" she tells you defensively.

ellie then dropped her pen, so she got up from her desk. as she went to sit down, she pat your shoulder, then looking straight into your eyes and telling you "im just playing, it was me." it was like you get sent into another dimension. you fell, hard. you got butterflies just from that sentence alone.

the next day, you completed a spanish test. your teacher was returning back the test with the scores on them. ellie asked you, "what did you get on the test?"

"oh i dont know, i haven't gotten my paper back yet." you told her.

"when you do, tell me your score please." she begged.

the teacher called your name, and you went up to get your paper. "98." you said to ellie with a chesire smile. "whatever." she replied back, smiling. you both then started laughing and smiling while looking at each other.

after spanish, she did those stupid hi-five tricks again. unintrigued, you asked her, "are you gonna miss?"

"nah, i wont." she said, with her hand in the air.

you decided to give her a hi-five, and she didn't intentionally ditch you. "you didn't miss, what a shocker." you told her. she then grabbed tictacs out of her backpack.

“can i get some?” you ask her. she handed you the container, allowing you to get how many you want.

a few months passed and you noticed ellie wasnt talking to you anymore, but to a new girl, doing the exact same things she did to you, but to her. then all of a sudden, she stopped talking to you. she didn’t flirt with you, give you tictacs, touch your hands, or tap you on the shoulders. it all started to become flat, like soda. you decided you had to let her go. because what she gave you wasn’t love at all, it was lust. she led you on the entire time. all for what? it was all one-sided love. you felt like a fool.

my feelings for you, which have melted like ice, have become clear

i say goodbye with a wave, peach soda.

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

taedros taedros

part two: taedros twodros ☆ part three: taedros tresdros**NEW wc: 2k reader: femme afab warnings: MINORS DNI EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ -- porn with plot, oral f!receiving, swearing, calling tae a virgin loser as a joke, mentioning the weeknd LMAO summary: loserbestfriend!taerae makes you watch the idol on hbo max with him for movie night, but a certain convertible scene sparks your "curiosity" more than the others... and taerae proves he might not be such a loser after all. :0 omg who am i?? i even wrote in all lower case letters in the fic to throw you off... i know you'll know right away though but that's not the point lmao!! i just didn't think i should be this horny for taerae on main so. here's the dedicated zb1 smut blog no one was asking for (except me. i was asking for it so let me live.) thank you to taerae for posting these pics next to each other and ruining my life. also the idol sucks and sam levinson and the weeknd are horrific for creating it. i only know some scenes from it because i watch comedy commentary videos about it. jennie is beautiful tho love her. ALSO i thought of this title and i cried laughing. mwahaha okay thanks for reading byeeeee

“this is the worst show I’ve ever seen in my life,” you say with a laugh, throwing a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “i can’t believe we’ve made it through two episodes already.”

🚨 SMUT BELOW CUT -- MINORS DNI -- 18+ 🚨

taerae sighs, “i think i’m gonna need to bleach my eyes.”

“throw some in my ears while you’re at it,” you joke, letting a leg drape over your best friend’s. you’re crammed together in the bottom bunk of his dorm room bed, watching the idol on the tv that’s hung at the foot of it. “i will never, ever be able to unhear the weeknd whispering, ‘stretch that tiny little pussy for me’. and every single day i will beg the lord for mercy.”

“are we sure we wanna watch the third episode?” taerae asks, shifting a bit next to you. “this show is so graphic.”

“of course the virgin wants to chicken out,” you tease, smacking his stomach with a pillow. he grabs it from you and leaves it there. “you’re the one who wanted to watch it! now you wanna quit two episodes in? not gonna happen. we can make it through this.”

if you hadn’t pressed play at that exact moment, you would’ve heard taerae gulp beside you. 

the intro of the show plays, assaulting your eyes with an up-close and personal view of jocelyn’s bare chest. what else is new? you yawn, hoping the third episode’s graphic scenes (at the very least) won’t be repetitive. bitch has put on a blindfold to end both episodes so far...

sitting with your back leaning against the wall, you try to steal a glance at taerae. his upper back is propped up on his pillow as he lies perpendicular to you, facing the tv screen. you watch his eyes, catching the subtle dilation of his pupils. it could be the light from the television in the otherwise dark room shifting their size, but you find yourself curious nonetheless.

“do you think she’s pretty?” you ask suddenly.

taerae coughs. “me? do i think the actress is pretty?”

you nod, eyes returning to the screen in hopes that the lack of eye contact will make taerae feel comfortable enough to give you an answer.

“she’s pretty, yeah,” he says after a moment. 

“like, you’re attracted to her?” you clarify, throwing another piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“uh,” he hesitates and you feel his legs tense up under yours. “i guess. i mean she’s not really my type, but--.”

“but you like her tits.”

“exactly,” taerae agrees too quickly. “wait, no--.”

“no need to walk it back,” you cut him off with a snort. “boobs are hot. end of story.”

taerae sits up a bit more, seemingly trying to relax after your probing. you didn’t talk to taerae about sex or girls all that much, but you’d be lying if you said the show hadn’t suddenly made you a bit curious. what experience did your lovable loser of a best friend have-- if any at all?

the interrogatory questions you’re suddenly wanting to ask are thrown from your brain, however, as the show now cuts to a shot of the weeknd (you and taerae refuse to call him tedros tedros) and jocelyn in the back of a convertible-- their poor assistant driving these two insufferable cretins down the freeway.

nothing’s out of the ordinary until jocelyn crawls from her seat and lifts one leg to straddle the weeknd. she’s in a slinky tangerine bodysuit and little black shorts and the weeknd’s hands easily envelope her waist. you roll your eyes, already having grown so sick of these two. 

but when jocelyn is suddenly pushed to the edge of the seat, her back against the car door and her head resting on the frame-- your attention is piqued. the weeknd wraps his hands around her thighs, prying them apart so he can pull her shorts to the side just enough to fit his tongue. the actress’s head lolls back over the car door frame; her blonde hair dangling over the side and flowing in the wind. her face is screwed up in absolute bliss and the sounds coming out of her confirm her state.

would she really be screaming like that just from his tongue?

“um,” you hear taerae say and you look over at him curiously. “if-- if he’s good with it, then yeah. she would be, i guess.”

you frown. what was he talking about? if he’s good with what? ... oh fuck, you think as you realize that you’d accidentally said your previous thought out loud. and now poor taerae is stumbling to give you an answer.

what did he say? if he’s good with it then she would be.

“huh,” you mumble, your brow furrowing as you ponder his answer.

you turn back to the tv, but taerae clears his throat. “what?”

“what? what do you mean, what?”

“why did you say ‘huh’ like that?” he asks, the pillow on his stomach rustling as he shifts slightly. “do you not agree or something?”

“oh, uh,” you stutter as you feel your cheeks start to heat, not sure what to say. “um, i guess i wouldn’t know.”

the silence from taerae is deafening as your eyes stay locked on the tv. you’re not sure why you said that. you could’ve just lied. you should’ve just lied.

“are you a virgin?” taerae asks softly. the accusation whips your head around to stare at him angrily and his eyes widen cautiously.

“obviously not,” you answer in a huff. “i just... i’ve never...”

you look down at your lap, picking at the skin on your fingers. you should stop while you can. you don’t need to tell the truth. why are you even considering telling him this?

“no one’s ever gone down on me or anything.”

“oh,” taerae manages to respond after a long moment, but you can’t even look at him.

“yeah.”

another moment of silence. “you shouldn’t be, like, embarrassed by that. that’s... that’s entirely their fault for not prioritizing you, you know?”

your bottom lip tucks between your teeth, the aforementioned embarrassment flushing your skin as you nod. the show is still playing, but you can only hear garbled sounds. why did you tell him that!? now taerae has to awkwardly comfort you when you could’ve just shut your mouth in the first place. you didn’t really talk about these kinds of things with taerae. your best friend was there for movie nights, chinese food binges, laughing until you cry, and most importantly taking the absolute piss out of... 

and here you were making him uncomfortable by randomly talking about your oral virginity.

“would you want me to do it?”

taerae’s voice is so quiet that you’re positive for a moment that you hallucinated it. you look over at your best friend tentatively to find his knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping his pillow to his stomach. 

“what?”

taerae blinks nervously. “if you wanted to, you know, try it... i could--.”

“WHAT!?” you shout; hands grabbing the pillow on taerae’s stomach and throwing it across the room. “are you-- are you fucking joking!? you think i’m desperate enough to ask my best friend to eat me out?”

“no, no, no,” taerae respond quickly, hands flying up in defense. “not at all!”

“then what?” you ask, jaw setting in anger as you wait for a good enough answer to keep you from punching him in the balls.

taerae’s lips form the slightest pout. “you seemed really curious about it. i just... i just thought i’d offer.”

you bite your lip as you think. “what do you even know about that kind of thing? I thought you were a virgin loser.”

“ouch,” taerae says but quickly shrugs it off. “i guess you’re only right about half of that statement.”

you frown. even though you’d never talked about it before, was taerae secretly experienced? more experienced than you?

“you don’t have to say yes though,” he adds quickly. “i’m sorry; i probably shouldn’t have said any--.”

“okay,” you cut him off softly.

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “okay?”

you nod slowly. “i don’t believe you that you’re not a virgin loser, but if you’re offering...”

taerae sits up, leaning on his hands as a little smirk lights up his face. “i’ll eat you out and then you can eat those words. how does that sound?”

the way your heat flutters at his words catches you off guard. so does the way he swiftly flips you onto your back as you take the position he was just in.

“whoah,” you exhale, your best friend absolutely knocking the wind out of you as he positions himself between your thighs. he takes the hem of your shorts in his fingers, eyebrows raising at you expectantly. you lift up your hips enough for him to shimmy them off, discarding them on the floor without taking his eyes off your still-clothed center.

you glance at your underwear, panic immediately hitting you when you realize you wore the only clean pair that you had left...

a black, lace thong.

they were the only pair left, because you honestly hadn’t had a reason to wear them in a little while.

“fuck,” taerae curses, hands wrapped around the outsides of your thighs. “were you going somewhere after this or...?”

“if you don’t shut your mouth, i’ll be going somewhere before this,” you threaten, but the words come out shakier than you would’ve liked as taerae begins to plant open-mouthed kisses up your thighs. “... ‘s laundry day tomorrow.”

“mm, I see,” he replies, shifting his weight to one hand so he can bring his right hand to your heat. your heart rate rises as he moves towards where you’re quickly growing to need his attention most. two fingers press at your clothed-core gently and the sound of the tv in the background does nothing to dampen the moan that escapes you from just the small amount of pressure.

“laundry day’s coming just in time i think,” taerae says, a smirk highlighting his cavernous dimples in a light you’ve never seen before. “from the way you’re soaking through these.”

“shut up,” you groan, bringing your hands up to cover your face. taerae hooks his fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging at them playfully to get your attention. peeking out through your fingers, you glare at him.

“do you want to stop?” he asks, removing his hands quickly. “we can stop if you want to or need to or anything.”

you reach down and grab both of his hands in yours, reattaching them to your underwear. “please keep going.”

he blinks at you for a moment before nodding, pulling your thong down your legs as you lift your hips up for him. taerae lies down fully in between your thighs now, guitar-string calloused hands wrapping around your thighs and guiding them to rest on his shoulders. 

“so pretty,” he whispers. eyes focusing on your throbbing cunt, taerae’s grip on your legs gets a little tighter-- a little more desperate. “really.”

“thanks,” you respond shyly, watching as a bit of steam begins to coat the rim of taerae’s glasses. you can’t help but smile as you reach for them, carefully removing the frames and placing them on the stand next to his bed. 

“thanks,” he echoes. 

“i’m still not convinced that you aren’t a-- oh fuck...” just as you’re about to tease your loser of a best friend again, his tongue finds your core and licks a long stripe up from your opening to your clit. taerae exhales a laugh against your pussy, tongue circling your clit as his hands now take hold of your hips.

“wait, what the fuck?” you whine breathlessly as he works you over with his mouth. “tae, i thought... oh my god.”

“taste so good, baby,” taerae moans like he’s enjoying it just as much as you are. he slips a finger in your entrance carefully, stretching you until he deems you ready for a second. “Think this pussy might be perfect.”

his eyes are closed; eating at you like you’re his favorite meal. it’s hot. way hotter than the scene from the show. way hotter than anything on that stupid show-- in which another sex scene is playing on the screen behind taerae. you suddenly feel so much pity for jocelyn; one of the hardest characters in history to pity. but the fact that there’s no way tedros fucking tedros is eating her out as good as taerae’s eating you out right now is tugging at your heart strings.

“tae,” you whimper, feeling the knot in the pit of your stomach begin to tighten. your hand tangling up in his hair at the nape of his neck causes him to moan into you and the vibration only makes you tug harder. “please, please wanna cum.”

“already? you sure?” he says, disappointment coating his voice. “could eat this pussy all night.”

“holy shit,” you exhale. you didn’t even know taerae was capable of talking like this. the only time he ever said pussy around you was if he was calling you one. now as he looks up at you from between your thighs, his pretty dimpled-smile covered in your juices as he continues to fuck you with his fingers and press his thumb against your clit...

you’re nodding frantically now. “please, please tae. make me cum.”

“fuck, baby, okay. whatever you want,” he agrees quickly, the lust in his eyes at your demand reaching a whole new level. he removes his thumb from your clit and the sudden lack of contact causes you to whine pathetically. “sshhh, don’t worry baby. i’ve got something even better, i promise.”

just as some tears from frustration are welling up in your eyes, taerae’s lips close around your clit and he begins to suck. “oh my GOD,” is all you can manage as your orgasm starts to wash over you. “taerae. oh my god, tae... c-cumming.”

you’re grinding your pussy against his tongue now to maximize the friction and the way he lifts your hips a bit to bring you even closer tells you that he’s loving every second of this. your moans match the ones that taerae is mewing into your core. he places your hips back down onto the mattress, holding them steady as you start to squirm a bit from the overstimulation. he continues to lap at you gently as your hand falls from his hair to his shoulder, causing him to look up at you.

your cheeks are red now from both your climax and the new wave of embarrassment that’s creeping up on you. you’re not sure what to say, but luckily taerae’s got you covered.

he inserts two fingers inside of you again and then pulls them out-- covered in your juices. without hesitating, he sticks them in his mouth and sucks them clean. “you’ve tasted yourself, right? probably a lot. fuck, i’m so jealous.”

your jaw drops a bit, now doubly unable to speak at the filth pouring out of your best friend’s mouth..

taerae frowns at you. “what? you want to make this awkward now?”

you shake your head. 

“was it good?” he asks, head tilting to the side as he squints slightly. you reach over to his nightstand and grab his glasses, handing them back to him. he puts them on; raising his hand to ruffle his hair.

“you know it was good,” you mumble annoyedly.

he grins. “yeah. i do.”

“UGH,” you groan, hiding behind your hands again. “i hate you.”

“please, pleeeease tae,” he mocks, climbing up closer to your face to really rub it in. “make me cum.”

“SHUT UP!” you shout, hitting his chest with your fists in annoyance. “do not get cocky about this.”

taerae shrugs, biting his lip to keep from smirking. “i guess you never wanna do this again then?”

you sigh defeatedly before replying softly, “i didn’t say that.”

“good,” he says with a smile-- shifting to the edge of the bed and standing up. “i’m gonna get you some water and a towel, okay? don’t move a muscle.”

you don’t. taerae had made sure of that with the orgasm he’d just pulled out of you. as the door to his dorm room closes behind him, you’re left with only your thoughts and the sound of that shitty tv show playing in the background. you reach for the remote weakly, pressing pause on a bizarre scene of the weeknd jerking it over a clothing rack (?).

all you can think about, though, is taerae lapping at your pussy like a starved man. what the fuck just happened? did you really just let your best friend eat you out?

and how the fuck had he managed to leave you wanting more?

[sturniololoco]

Can you PLEASEEEE write a fic about Nathan and hockey🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

Big Game Pt 1

SLS x Nathan Doe

warnings: Not yet hehehe

Nathan's POV

Today was the big hockey game of the season for Somerville High School. We had made it all the way to the State Finals.

Matt and Chris, my best friends and a part of the Sturniolo Quadruplets, were playing in the game as well. Nick was there for photography reasons, and their sister, SLS/N, was tagging along to cheer us on.

-

It was lunch time and the boys, SLS/N, and I were at our usual table in the back. We Chris and I were talking about the game while Nick and Matt were getting lunch in line. SLS/N was sitting quietly, writing in her notebook

She had her nose scrunched, biting her lip in concentration. Looking absolutely adorable while doing it. I couldn't help but look at her, getting distracted from Chris talking.

"Hey! Are you even listening?" He laughs snapping in my face.

I laugh, may face turning a little red. Lucky for me, Matt and Nick walk over. Matt gently ruffles her hair, as she looks up at him and smiles, showing her dimples. Adorable.

"So, you guys excided for your game?" I hear her ask.

I look up and she's looking at me. I quickly look down, stabbing at my lunch with my fork.

-

The bell rang for lunch, the triplets taking the left to get to PE, while SLS/N and I take a right so I can drop her off at her Spanish class, just like we do every day.

Just before I drop her off, I work up the courage to take my home jersey, the one that I won't use because we're playing away today and toss it at her.

"Wear it at the game. You need a little spirit." I say, giving her a smile while running my fingers through my hair.

She catches it and unfolds it, holding it up and reading Doe on the back. She looks up at me and smiles.

"You know I can wear matt's or Chris's, right?" She asks, but kept the jersey all the same, tucking it into her backpack.

"Yeah, but my last names way cooler than theirs." I say, giving her a wave and walking to my class.

I hear her giggle then walk into her class.

-

As soon as the bell rang, I rushed out of my calculus class, down the main stairs, and out the door to get to the student parking lot. We had an hour and a half long drive to get the the ice rink, so we needed to get going.

Matt, Chris, and I all chucked our hockey gear into the back along with our backpacks, shutting the car door. We then hopped in the car, only to notice that SLS/N was not in the car yet.

"Oh my god, i thought I told her to get out quick." Matt mumbled under his breath, eyeing the long line of cars, cramming together while trying to get out of the parking lot.

We only had to wait about five more minutes until I see SLS/N running towards the car. The hops in between Nick and I in the back, out of breath and her cheeks pink from running all the way here.

"Matt-I'm so-so sorry. Some idiot spilled paint all over me." She says in between breaths.

only then did I notice the blue paint, running all the way down her shirt. Her shirt was wet, like she tried to get some of it off with water, only to make it spread worse.

But I was shocked at what she did next.

"Chris, can i borrow your hoodie for the game?" She asked her older brother.

He nodded, taking off his black sweatshirt and handing it to her. Much to my surprise, she peeled of her wet shirt, leaving her in just a sports bra before throwing Chris's hoodie on.

I felt my cheeks turn red, noticing how close I was to her bare skin. She then dug around in her backpack, and pulled out my other jersey, and put that on over the black hoodie.

I smiled at myself, admiring how good she looks with my name on her back.

New series y'all!!! Part 2 tomorrow if ur interested, let me know in the comments!!!

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Grey Zone 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: We're back

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Your bedroom door swings open, the handle knocking against the short shelf of figures behind it. You clutch the black skirt in your hands and face your mother as she gives you that look. The one dripping in disappointment and loathing. She’s hungover, you can tell by how she squints.

“Are you not ready yet?” She sneers, a Louis bag dangling from her elbow.

“Almost,” you assure her, rolling your tongue nervously, “mom, are you sure I should come? Work isn’t very happy about the time off and–”

“How dare you,” she accuses, flinching at the spark of her own temper, bringing her manicure to her temple, “Lloyd has been very nice in inviting us all to the lake house and I will not have you spoil it with your attitude.”

“I wasn’t trying to… I just thought…”

“Stop thinking,” she points at you with a long shellacked nail, “you’ll ruin everything.”

You snap your mouth shut. For her, this is another vacation. You know her plans don’t extend past wine and naps in the sun. And it is supposed to be a ‘family trip’. If you don’t go, your father might just tell her to stay behind too. It’s not that she wants you to go, but she wants to be sure she gets to go.

“I’ll be ready in like ten,” you spin back to your bed and tuck the skirt into your duffle.

“Make it five,” she huffs with the click of her tongue.

She prances off and you shake your head at the stacks of clothes in front of you. You cut it down as you roll up each piece to fit into your bag. You don’t need much. You shove your chest of makeup at the end and tuck your toiletry pouch inside.

You grab your leather knapsack and slide your laptop inside with your textbooks. You wonder if you’ll even have a signal all the way up north. If not, you’ll have a lot of catching up to do. Oh well, maybe it will be nice to get away. Or maybe you’ll be in hell, trapped in an isolated cabin with your own parents.

And him.

You shove a few novels in along with your computer and zip it up. You drag your stuff towards the door and grab your jacket from the clothes rack against the far wall. The long black trench goes well over your wide-leg curtain paints and razor back halter. You pop on a wide brimmed black hat and your favourite pair of sunglasses; black lenses framed with silver.

You grab your bags and haul them out of your room, making the slow and perilous descent to the first floor. You leave your bags right behind your mother’s pile of matching Louis luggage and wiggle your feet into your clunky Mary Janes. 

Your mother emerges with a sunhat and a pair of large square framed sunglasses. She winks at you as she tucks a flask into her purse. You say nothing and cross your legs, perching on the bench impatiently.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” She harrumphs.

“Yeah?” You look down.

“You don’t have anything… lighter? It’s sunny out.”

You shrug, “we’ll just be in the car.”

You stare at her bags. How much does she need to bring? The physics of packing all of it into the SUV worries you. You fully expect to be crammed in next to her bandouliere bag.

“Constance!” Your father’s voice booms as his steps pound onto the porch. You look at the screen door as he rips it open, “well,” he stops short inside, “I told you to start bringing your shit out.”

“I told you, my shoulder,” your mother pouts, “yell at your daughter, she’s the one sitting around.”

Your father huffs and grabs her largest bag, pointing at you then the rest of her things, “well, let’s get this going. I don’t wanna be driving past midnight.”

You get up and grab two of the lighter bags. You roll your eyes behind your lenses, knowing you won’t be caught. You follow your father out the front door, the weight of your mother’s excess chafing your fingers. What did she pack?

The hatch door of the SUV is already open. Your father’s things are neatly placed against the wall of the trunk. He hikes up your mother’s suitcase in the other side and it takes up much of the remaining space. You place the two in hand on top and ponder the last three. It’s like a very unfortunate game of Tetris.

“Go,” your father snaps his fingers, “get the rest.”

You don’t argue. As you come up on the porch, your mother emerges with a bright pink travel tumbler in hand, slurping on the straw as your left to wonder at the contents. You dip inside and retrieve her smallest bags; a perfect circular valise and two more oblong ones.

You hand them off to your father and he grumbles under his breath as he tries to fit them into the hatch. You return to the house to get your own bags. You won’t mind sitting with your own things. 

The backseat offers little hope as you find a large cooler taking up more than half of its length and fishing rods across the floor. So, where exactly are you supposed to sit?

As you stare, perplexed by the puzzle of your own belonging, a horn toots and a car rolls up the driveway, coming just short of your father as he turns to stare down the Bentley. You keep your knapsack on your shoulder and your bag clutched tight.

You face Mr. Hansen as he climbs out of his car, leaning on the door as he looks over it at your dad, “Ray Ray, ready to go?”

“Just loading up,” your father answers.

“Holy shit,” Mr. Hansen snorts, “you know you’re not moving in for good, right?”

“Connie’s shit,” your father snarls.

Hansen shuts his car door as he strides up the tarmac. His focus shifts as he sees you standing listless. He flicks his sunglasses up and gives a crooked smirk.

“Hey, sunshine,” he greets, “uh, Ray,” he stops, just a few inches from you, pivoting towards the back of the SUV, “where exactly is the baby girl supposed to fit? You strapping her to the roof?”

“She’ll squeeze in,” you father dimisses.

“For eight hours?” Hansen’s fingers tickle along the back of your arm and he squeezes just above his elbow, “I got lots of room.”

“I don’t care. Take her, then,” your father barks, “I got Lonny bringing up supplies, I don’t needa worry about all that.”

“Hear that, starbright, go toss your things in mine,” Hansen twirls his keyring and holds it out to you, “lots of legroom.”

“Um, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue,” your father slams the hatch door. “He’s right, we don’t got the space.”

You could suggest your mother leaves a few things behind but you know that will only end the same. You take Hansen’s keys and thank him. He grins and steps back, not much, just enough for you to pass, just close enough for you to brush against him.

You go down the drive, surprised to find yourself trailed by another set of steps. You glance over your shoulder as Hansen circles around you, “bottom button, sunny.”

You hit the fob and the trunk pops open. He seizes your bag before you can react and puts it in next to his. You slip your knapsack down your arm and he just as quickly has it in hand.

“Couldn’t imagine eight hours in a car with those two,” he says quietly, “you’re welcome.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks.” 

You cross your arms and step back as he closes the trunk. He keeps his hand on the sleek pant and eyes you up and down. He tilts his head and his tongue pokes out.

“You feel like driving,” he asks, “I don’t mind.” He pats the butt of the car, “she handles well.”

“Um, it’s okay…”

“Come on, you get the first hour and we can switch at the rest stop,” he goads, “I woke up fuckshit early.”

“Alright, I guess,” you keep the keys in your hand and go to step around him.

“Wait, wait,” he blocks your path, “one more thing.”

“Alright?” You frown.

“I didn’t say…” he reaches to tap the brim of your hat, “you look fucking good.”

You don’t know how to respond. You’re unused to compliments and a simple thank you would do but something about his tone has you tongue-tied. You wipe away your chagrin and try to smile. Your lips just quiver and fall straight.

“Right, let’s stop dragging ass,” he spins and struts up the driveway, “Ray,” he calls to your dad, “here’s the spare key. In case you get ahead of us.”

You chew your lip and slowly walk along the side of the car. You unlock the doors and open the driver’s side. You reticently get in and take off your hat, twisting to throw it in the backseat. You turn straight and adjust the seat and steering wheel. It’s a really nice car.

The passenger door opens and Lloyd drops in, sliding the seat all the way back as he stretches his legs. You leave the keys in the cupholder and push the ignition. The engine rolls as you take in the breadth of controls. Nothing too unusual.

“What’s that shade of lipstick called?” Lloyd leans on the armrest of his seat, “how many shades of black can they sell?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you fix the mirror.

“Like those glasses. Where’d you get them?”

“Amazon,” you answer as you shift into reverse, the camera showing on the console screen. You grip the wheel and slowly back out.

“Now, don’t be afraid to put that foot down once we hit the highway,” he says, “she’s got a lot of power. She can handle it.”

“Mhmm,” you stop at the end of the driveway and look both ways down the street. “Got it.”

🖤

As promised, you trade places with Lloyd after the first hour. He’s a bit more heavy-footed and you find yourself with your hand on the door as you brace yourself with his careless and aggressive passing. You’re a cautious driver and his style has you almost dizzy. You’re not bold enough to tell him to slow down.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asks, “no squabbling middle-aged assholes to listen to.”

“Sure,” you grasp the seat belt as you keep a wary gaze through the windshield.

“Hopefully it’s only more of this, baby,” he continues, “my house, my rules. You don’t worry about mommy and daddy.”

You nod and hold back a squeak as he swoops in front of another car. You wish you had kept driving. You hate this.

“I’ll be working on my tan as daddy does all the hard work,” he scoffs, “been a long year.”

You listen, almost curious as he’s rarely anything close to transparent. You would never imagine him having a bad day. He seems to carry it with that no fucks given strut. He swerves again and you can’t help but elicit a rather pathetic noise.

“Mr. Hansen, can you… slow down a little?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer right away but he does as you request. “I get it, you wanna enjoy our time together,” he snickers.

“Uh, well, I get a bit carsick,” you utter.

“Ah,” he accepts with an air of disappointment, “can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Can you call me Lloyd? This Mr. Hansen business makes me feel old as shit. I’m not, you know, I got all my faculties,” he lets out a small chuckle, “just so you know.”

“Right, Lloyd, sorry,” you say, “dad just… you’re his friend so he–”

“Yeah, real tight ass but damn good at what he does. The biggest fuckers always are,” he scoffs.

“I guess…”

“So, those girls, they bug you again?” He keeps the same pace in conversation as he does driving. You’re disoriented by the flip.

“Haven’t seen them, no…”

“You know, they’re just jealous,” he says, “I know girls like that. I’ve f– met a lot. They’re not worth it.” He shakes his head and laughs, “hate to say it, but your mom is one of those. Never a nice thing to say about anyone but herself.”

You lean into the seat and bend your arms in front of your stomach. You know that. Deep down, you know your family is imperfect, you just didn’t realise how obvious it is.

“You’re young. Shit’s tough when you’re figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur.

“You got Spotify or something?” He asks abruptly, once more jarring you. “Got bluetooth in here. May as well put something on, we got time.”

“Right, uh, I could…” you dig your phone out as he pushes buttons on the steering wheel with his thumb. The screen flashes with the pairing symbol.

You find the right connection and scroll through your playlists. You don’t know if he’ll like any of those. Maybe you could find something generic.

“What do you like?” You ask.

He answers with a chortle, “nah, you put something on. I wanna hear your music.”

“Well, it’s a bit… of an acquired taste.”

“My car, my rules, put your music on,” he demands.

You resign and tap shuffle on your weekly mix. Joy Division drones from the random selection and you black out the screen. You’re comforted by the familiar tones.

“Holy fuck,” Lloyd says, “this is old shit. Before my time, even.”

“Uh, yeah,” you reply, “it’s just a shuffle–”

“Not complaining,” he smirks, “glad I actually know this one.”

You exhale and try to relax. It’s going to be a long ride and you're thankful he opened that door. You don’t know how much longer you could handle his chaotic conversation. Only six hours or so, you can make it if you have music.

[joekeerysguitar]

erasing the lies

not friends/slight enemies to lovers <3

overview: you are an a+ student who is well rounded, very disciplined, and hard working gets asked to tutor the most obnoxious, lazy, and rude boy who ever stepped foot on this planet… steve harrington. unable to say no, you help him.. but what you uncover is something completely unexpected..

included: angst, fluff, mutual feelings, happy ending, cursing, relationships, use of y/n

authors note: heyy everyone! sorry about not uploading or writing anything in a longggg time. i’ve been super busy lately and just trying to enjoy the summer but i’m back! came up with this super cute idea and i hope you enjoy! thank you for all the love on the rest of my fics!! much love, nina <3

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“Mhm… yes.. she’ll be down shortly” The phone hits the receiver as your teacher spins around catching your eyes. “Y/N, the principal would like to see you.” She smiles her fake toothy grin as she resumes her lesson.

You feel the eyes on you as you quickly stuff your bag with your notebooks and pencils trying to get out of being the center of attention. You could hear the slight whispering of the class which feeds your inner thoughts.

“Oh shit, what did I do?”

“Am I in trouble?”

Quickly shutting the classroom door behind you, you exhale taking in the stale air of the empty hallway of Hawkins High School. You quickly walk down the hall as your heart beats wildly out of your chest. You can feel your stomach churn as you reach out for the door nob of the brown glass door that reads “Main Office.” The small bell at the top of the door rings alerting the secretary as you quickly step inside and shut the door gently. Taking a deep breath, you chase the butterflies away in your stomach as you loosen your shoulders and walk up to her forming a smile with your cherry lips.

“Uh hi, I was called down by the principal.” You mutter with a small smile.

“You must be Y/N?” She asks reading at a post it note on her desk. You nod trying to quickly get this interaction over with. “Have a seat dear.”

You walk over to the small sofa chair in the corner of the office. Bouncing your leg, you can feel the nervousness creep up from your core once again as the same questions float through your mind like clouds on a breezy day. You look around the room and notice old school yearbook photos, sports championship awards, and other boring memorabilia. Before you get a chance to read any, the door swings open to the person you did not want to see… the principal. He is older, with short small wisps of hair that adorn his mostly bald head. He is wearing a blue suit and you can see his beer belly slightly protrude from his attire.

“Come on in Y/N”

You quickly get out of the seat and follow him into the small crammed office. Your eyes immediate lock onto a very recognizable face here at Hawkins High. This face belongs to someone who’ve you have despised since elementary school. Someone who used to practically rule over the school, date every girl in the 5 mile radius, and keep his hair perfectly in place every single day. The King of Hawkins High was sitting right before your eyes.. the one and the only Steve Harrington. He just feverishly looks up at you before darting his eyes away and fiddles with his fingers embarrassingly. Your mind floods with endless questions as you take a seat next to him.

Steve Harrington is known for being the arrogant and snobby rich jock who’s only personality trait is hooking up with 50 girls a month. Rumors go around that his ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler broke up with him because she cheated with Jonathan Byers and didn’t want to get risked getting caught. All you know is that you don’t want to mess with him or even talk to him. He fails all his classes, always goes to parties, and barely has his parents home.

Trouble.

The principal clears his throat, “I probably assume you two have never met. Let me introduce you two. Y/N this is Steve, Steve this is Y/N.”

Being polite you turn your head and put on a fake smile as he returns the favor before you both quickly look at the principal once again.

“Now I called you two down here not because you’re in trouble but I have an important question to ask.” He says flicking his eyes between you two.

Okay not in trouble.. that’s a good sign.

“Y/N, now I know you are in many advanced classes and receive very high grades.” You nod and smile agreeing with his statements. You feel Steve shift in his chair uncomfortably as you look over and see his face blush as red as a tomato. “Well, Steve here does not receive the best of grades. Right now, if he doesn’t pass his classes, he will be unable to qualify for graduation.” You nod you head as your head whirs with millions of thoughts…

“Pfft, no shit it’s Steve Harrington”

“Unable to graduate? I could never.”

“What does this even mean?”

“Well I was wondering if you would be interested in tutoring him? Either once or twice a week would suffice.” He says with a smile as he looks at you.

Your heart drops just like the roller coasters at amusement parks. Your stomach does a flip as you can feel your organs rearrange from inside. Your face starts to heat up as your palms begin to get sweaty. You’re bad at making decisions especially ones that require things you don’t like.

Tutor Steve Harrington? Shoot me now!

Looking over at Steve you notice him look up at you reading your face for any response. You just look at him and look at the principal as the thoughts zoom around your brain.

You don’t know what to do.

Should I be the better person? Should I help the douchebag? You decide to go with your gut, you can’t ever say no.

You look up at the principal. “Sure, why not.” You smile as you look over to Steve who just looks at you like his prayers got awnsered.

He knows your really smart. Really really smart. And pretty cute too. You know, maybe this whole tutoring thing would work out in his favor. He passes his classes and he gets a new chic.

“Perfect, thank you Y/N!” He smiles as he hands you Steve’s grade sheet. “He specifically needs to work on Physics and US History.”

You glance at his grade sheet as you read the grades.

Physics- D

English- C

US History- F

Geometry- B

Oh boy, these grades aren’t looking too hot.

The principal buds in again. “Tutoring could be 1-2 hours at either persons house. He must be fully prepared by the last month of school.” You nod your head placing his grade sheet in your bag.

“Steve why don’t you thank Y/N for helping you with your studies?” He demands looking at Steve.

“Thank you Y/N.” He says timidly looking up into your eyes for a split second.

His eyes were really pretty. Brown with a hazel undertone. They shined with the morning sun glimmering through the half drawn shades.

You just smile back at him and reply “You’re welcome. Does tomorrow night around 6:00 at my place work?” He nods as you exchange addresses.

You leave the office with a million thoughts in your head.

How are you supposed to tutor someone you hate. Out of all people it is goddamn Steve Harrington. The rich, snobby, and rude jock who knows nothing but of parties and alcohol. You’re not gonna enjoy these sessions, you already know it. Seeing him is bad enough, how you have to talk and teach him twice a week for the next several weeks. Might as well just dig your grave now.

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“He will be here any min- ding.. I’ll get it.” You yell through the house. Steve had just ringed your doorbell. Your blood pressure just rose off the charts. You quickly run over to the front door and open it. There is Mr. Pretty Boy himself with his books cradled in his hands. He is wearing a dark green polo shirt with his usual blue jeans. He flashes you a charming hello smile as you step to the side and let him in.

That smile. Oh boy, made you feel different.

“Hi, how are you?” You ask watching him look around the house.

I’m sure he’s definitely judging it. Rich boy isn’t used to small rooms…

“I’m fine, how are you?” He asks catching you in the eye as you find yourself get lost in them.

Shake it off.. you gotta hate him…

Steve knows that he has this horrible reputation and he knows that people who don’t know him see him as what he used to be. His goal is to change that, whatever way possible. He hasn’t had a ton of friends since the whole situation. Heck, he dropped Tommy and his silly girlfriend. He really had no one.

He had hope.

Maybe you could be his first actual friend…

If he could prove to you that he changed…

He could even prove to himself that he won’t make mistakes ever again..

“Follow me.” You say tucking your hair behind your ears as you guide him to your room.

Your room was small and quaint. White walls with white decor. The accent the room was baby pink as you had several pictures of flowers or beaches on the wall. It was your comfy spot. Made you feel safe.

As you enter the room you walk over and sit down on your bed swinging your legs as they dangle off the floor. Beside you are the books you set out to study and practice with. Steve just looked around with a curious gaze in his eyes before he set his stuff down on your desk and walked over to sit beside you.

“Let’s get started.” You say turning to face him while you grab the Physics book from off the pile.

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“What’s the awnser to Question #7?” You ask as you stare at his pondering complexion. You wait a few seconds. “Hello? Earth to Steve?” You ramble as you wave your hand in front of his face.

“What.. sorry.” He jumps back into reality looking bored.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly as he looks up into your eyes.

“Can we do something else?” He asks trying to read a reaction from your face.

“Yeah, Math or Social Studies?” You ask totally clueless.

“Not school Y/N.” He drags readjusting himself on your bed.

“Then what?” You ask a little harsher then expected. He looks surprised at your response.

“Jeez, you’re a little cranky.” He says sarcastically as he takes the book from your lap and places it on the ground. You watch as he fixes his hair after it gets into his face.

His hair is really nice. Dark thick hazelnut colored hair that is always perfectly styled and hair sprayed. They don’t call him “The Hair” for nothing.

You zoned out for a minute while studying his lucious locks and now he is taping your shoulder lightly to regain your attention.

“Sorry, just confused what you wanna do since the whole reason why you are here is to pass school.” You brush a piece of fallen hair from behind your ear.

Steve is not gonna lie to himself. You’re pretty cute, even when your cranky.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks looking confused as he looks into your darting eyes.

You search your brain for a response. You question telling him a lie or telling him the truth. Taking a deep breath you spit out the truth.

“Not currently. I mean it’s just a weird situation. You know, you’re popular and a jock and every girl on the planet is obsessed with you. And I’m not popular, a nerd, and never has had a boyfriend. So yeah this is a little awkward. Plus considering the fact that I thought you absolutely 100% hated me prior to this.” You blurt out with a nervous chuckle as you examine your fingers.

“What did I do to make you think that I hated you?” He asks inquisitively while still looking at you as he sees the blush to your cheeks.

“I mean in elementary school you did push me into a muddy puddle.” You say looking back up at him and smiling a bit.

He chuckles and says jokingly, “That’s the reason why? I’m sorry I did that Y/N but… maybe you deserved it.” His voice turns serious. “But on a serious note, let’s just scratch this whole stereotype thing and start fresh, okay?” He asks looking right into your ocean blue eyes as he extends his hand forward.

“Deal.” You laugh as you shake his hand. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you!”

“I’m Steve, nice to meet you too!” He smiles brightly.

Hard feelings vanished..

For the remainder of the night, you two talk small talk about what you two enjoy and things that are happening in your lives. To be honest, you don’t mind him. You enjoy his quick remarks, his flirty attitude, his humor, and most of all his company.

On the other hand, Steve never thought he would speak to you a day in his life. But here he is, talking about movies, people, etc with someone he just met 24 hours ago and hell he was enjoying it too! There was something about you, something that made him incredibly happy inside. Something that filled a void no one has even filled before.

By the time the night was over, you already exchanged phone numbers and planned your next session.

Steve nor you could not wait for the next time you saw eachother!

Something definitely changed with him over the years. You’ve learned so much from him and how he has grown to better himself. It feels like someone took a pink eraser and erased all the lies right off the paper. It was good as new!

Deep down you had a feeling though and Steve was definitely feeling it too..

Deep down you had a crush..

On Steve Harrington..

The person who you refused to even speak to about 24 hours ago..

And he had one on you too..

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It was three days later and you and Steve were in the exact same spot practicing questions. You could tell by his body language that he was getting tired and bored. He got up and started to wander around your room with his usual playful smirk tugging at his lips. Steve was bored of studying, you two have been studying flash cards for two hours and he was at his wits end. Steve loved the little breaks or stupid activities the two of you would do when you both were tired and needed a break. He loved spending time with you, either if it was teasing you or just having a simple friend to friend conversation. You guys have gotten closer over the time spent together and he clearly recognizes that. At first, you used to be shy and more reserved but the more time you’ve spent with him, the more you’ve come out of your shell. He loves your fiery remarks or playful teasing you always delivered right back to him after he said something to you. He loved watching you become pissed at him or become sarcastic and quick-witted with him after he would ask a stupid question or pull a dramatic stunt. So, per usual he decided this was the time to do yet another stunt he had brewing in his heavily hair-sprayed mind.

“Steve, what the hell are you doing?” You question as you watch his eyes glaze over your desk as he reaches his purple sleeved arm over towards a book on it. “Put that down.” You bark as you get up and race towards him. The smirk only growing bigger on his face as he hears your distress.

“What is this?” He asks with squinted eyes as he begins to open the pages but before he could get a good look, you reach for it. Using his height advantage, he stretches his arm towards the ceiling which now suspended the book over your head.

“Give it to me! It’s my diary, put it down!” You beg as you brush up against him as you try to grab and reach it. He laughs as he stands in his tippy toes to get it higher as you jump to try to reach it. You’re practically chest to chest as you can feel his chest bounce quickly with each sharp laugh. He is getting a kick out of you freaking out. Suddenly, you realize you two are really close, too close for comfort. He senses your body language switch and suddenly returns to a more calm and collected state. He can feel his laughter fade as a small smile sits on his lips. He can feel his heart pick up as he locks eyes with yours as he resists the urge to pull you closer or look at your lips. You look even more beautiful up close as he notices the faint freckles peppering your cheeks and nose.

You stop as you lock eyes for a minute. Steve is a few inches taller than you but you two are face to face. Inches away from eachother. You examine his face close up. His hair is slightly disheveled with strands hang in front of his eyes. He has moles freckling his face like stars on a clear night. Your eyes flit down to his lips as you notice how cheery red they look close up. Quickly you look at him again, fearful of getting caught staring. You could feel your cheeks slightly blush and turn warm as you just stare into Steve’s brown sparkly eyes. The more you try to pull away, the more they pull you in. Steve feels the same way as he feels nervousness creep up from his core as his lips curve into a slight smile. He pulls the book down as he continues to lock eyes with yours. He has no idea how long it’s been. His mind is mush as he finds himself darting from your eyes to your lips..

“Here.” He whispers breathlessly as he hands you the book slightly backing up but keeping the eye contact.

“Thanks.” You reply as you blush a little harder now as you walk to your desk to place the book down and then you both return to the spot on the bed and continue.

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In a matter of a two weeks, you two have gotten extremely close. You would if never imagined that you would be good friends with the most popular guy in school, the one all you’re friends tell you to stay away from.. yet he just draws you in. The endless amounts of nights where he calls you on the phone asking about homework as it suddenly turns into a three hour call where you two ramble about random topics. You’re falling faster than you thought you would.. crumbling as he created cute nicknames for you and knows everything that makes you tumble over in laughter. He’s a complete opposite of you and your morals, yet you two seem to attract like a magnet.

Steve has learned to know you like a book, using his charismatic and charming personality he knows exactly what makes you blush or makes you laugh. As the study sessions go on, he picks up on your body language and your habits. He enjoys listening to you ramble for hours on end about friends or your family. He’s never really felt such an instant connection with someone before especially only knowing them for a few weeks now.

Today marks the last study session before Steve’s test. The last time you’ll see him roll his eyes at a physics question, the last time he will tease you about your stupidly high grades and how smart you are, the last time you two don’t focus on the task and do other things. You feel sadness forming in your heart hoping that after this, he continues to want to talk on the phone or even hang out. You love seeing him wave and smile at you in school or meeting you at your locker to talk. But you’re scared, you’re scared that he’s gonna put on his cocky jock attitude and won’t speak to you again… completely cut you out. You’ve seen a different side to him that you’ve never seen before. He’s sweet, considerate, and gentle around you. Never fails to have you think about him endlessly once he leaves your house or you hang up on the phone…

Little do you know, he feels the same. The same feeling poking him in the gut, the feeling where you want to hold on and never let go.

You’re suprised when your doorbell rings earlier than usually. You glance at the small watch on your left wrist as it reads “4:00 pm.” But you two agreed on 7:00 pm the night prior. You quickly brush your hair behind your shoulders as you open the door.

“Hey Steve, you’re early.” You say with a smile as you notice him blushing a bit in embarrassment. His cheeks are a slight pink as he smiles at you.

“Uh hey Y/N, sorry I’m early.” He pauses for a second. “Are you busy? Am I interrupting anything?” He asks a little more concerned now as the blush intensifies on his cheeks.

You shake your head as you chuckle a bit. “No.. no.. you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Okay good, I was wondering if I could just come now.. I know it’s our last night so I wanted some extra practice before the test tomorrow morning.” He says reading your face for an answer.

Now if he was Pinocchio, his nose would grow larger.. because he is lying. His pants are on fire.

“Of course, come on in!” You say with an enthusiastic smile as you move to the side to let him in.

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“Okay last physics question, I promise.” You say with a teasing smile as he rolls his eyes. You ask him a pretty difficult question as you could see the gears practically turning in his head. He answers correctly as a beaming smile forms on your lips. You notice the pure excitement on his face at your reaction.

Steve cannot help but to feel his heart flutter to see the reaction you just gave him. A huge proud beaming smile.. one that makes him want to melt into a big puddle on your bed. He thinks your reaction is the cutest thing, you’re the cutest thing and he feels like it’s the right time to ask his question.

Once you two calm down a bit and all the books are put away, you’re staring Steve right in the face. He’s just smiling gently at you, his eyes dazzling in the soft light of your room. You feel the butterflies form in your stomach as you break the comfortable silence.

“How do you feel for tomorrow? Good? Bad?”

“I think I’ll be okay, pretty nervous” He says with a shrug as he smiles a bit hesitant at you, you notice how his demeanor has changed. He seems more nervous and quiet now.

“You’ll do great, trust me!” You say trying to lighten the mood as you earn a smile from him. You give him a comforting smile as you grab his hand and hold it in yours gently squeezing it.

Your touch practically sends Steve to the moon. He just feels so happy, he feels all the nerves and worries washing away as you gently hold his hand in comfort. He truly believes every word you’re saying.

He clears his throat before asking a bit nervously. He’s been thinking about this plan all night and all day. He wants to celebrate with you, regardless if he passes or not. He wants to treat you for volunteering your time to help him. And of course, he just wants to spend some time with you. You make his day with these sessions as you constantly giggle at his jokes making his heart soar or seeing you smile so beautifully. You’re like treasure to him, he wants to cherish you forever.

“Y/N, do you possibly want to go and get ice cream with me when it’s all done and over with… like a celebration type of thing?” He asks with a gentle smile as a hint of pink crowds his cheeks.

You let his statement settle in the air as you feel your heart pick up at the words. Without a second thought you reply, “I would love too, Steve!” You can feel the heat rise to your cheeks as you smile unstoppably at him. You see his eyes open wide in happiness in response as the smile grows bigger on his freckled cheeks.

Head over heels..

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Steve has refused to tell you the outcome of his test until you two were seated on the back trunk of his car indulging in your ice creams. His treat, of course.

“So Steve…” You say pausing to swallow. “What did you get?” You push the spoon around the sprinkled covered ice cream as you wait for him to respond.

Steve places his icecream down as you copy him looking at him more curious now. You watch the sides of his mouth curve into a grin. “I passed, everything!” He says excitedly. You can’t help but to squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around him for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you!” You say muffled against his shoulder. You can feel his broad arms wrap around your lower back as he hugs you back. You can feel the sudden chill from the ice cream melt away.

You pull away as you look him dearly in the eyes with a sincere smile on your face. “See, I told you that you could do it!” You say smiling even wider. You’re so so so happy, this made your day.. your week even.

Steve has never seen you this happy for anything ever. Heck, Steve has never even had anyone this happy for him. He just feels this overwhelming sense of accomplishment and joy that fills his entire body.

You both are now just looking at each other with huge smiles, enjoying the comfortable silence. Steve feels like he should make a move, before he loses you. He’s afraid that after this, your friendship could disappear. You would go back to your friends and he would hang out with his. And he didn’t want that. He wanted to be with you.

“So what was the final sc-“ You’re interrupted mid sentence as he presses his lips delicately against yours. You gasp into his lips as your eyes dart shut. His hand gently caresses your cheek as your body freezes. He pulls apart smiling and blushing madly as he looks at you lovingly. You just stare like a dear in headlights at him. You’re shocked and can’t even process what just happened.

Steve Harrington just kissed you.

Your cheeks are a crimson color now as you smile shyly at him. Without a second thought, it’s your turn to confess how you feel. And by this, you press your lips against his once more. His lips are pillowy soft and taste sweet from the ice cream. One of your hands cups his cheek while the other rests gently on his shoulder. You can feel his hand come and press against your lower back as he pulls you closer to him as the other pulls hair behind your ear delicately. You pull apart with a smile as you become nervous and shy around him. You can feel the absence on your lips as butterflies course through your tummy.

Steve is genuinely surprised that you feel the same way. He would never think that you, a smart and determined girl would ever fall in love with a dumb, cocky jock. He’s only known you for about a month now but it feels like it’s been years. You two just instantly clicked. Maybe opposites do attract..

He just feels overwhelming happy as he just stares at you with the biggest gushy smile and sparking eyes as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you two just watch the sun set behind the trees, feeling totally in love.

Maybe people aren’t as bad as they seem..

People can change, people can grow..

And all you know, is you love Steve for who he is and who he became..

Because the lies were erased clean off the page.

¡! ❞ ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ↳ ❝ [] ¡! ❞

thank you for reading!! <3 hope you enjoyed the fic!!

[stratocumulusperlucidus]

WIP REC

I love love love reading WIPs, the anticipation, the excitement of getting the notification for a new chapter, even sometimes the cliffhangers... So here are some of the lovely fics I'm currently reading!

Oh and if you read these, please consider taking a minute to leave a comment, let the author know you appreciate their work 💖

This Is More of a Comment Than a Question by @caterpills

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/10

Three weeks before Henry Fox's tour for his fourth, highly anticipated, awards-bait novel A Brief War in December begins, his publicist Janella breaks her foot on a bunny slope at Windham. Alex can't be mad at her, even though he kind of is. Saying it out loud would be like kicking her when she was down, and she already went down a literal mountain in the worst way possible. Now crammed in Rafael Luna's corner office, Janella is shooting Alex extremely apologetic looks while slumped on her crutches, wearing a bright orange cast. The conversation about who is going to be joining Henry Fox on his multi-city trek across the U.S. is also going downhill. Alex is feeling the same sort of free fall while standing still. Because out of all the publicists available in their tiny underfunded department, the only one left to escort their company's best-selling author is regrettably him. The problem is, well, Alex absolutely hates Henry Fox.

Or: Alex is the publicist for Mountchristen Publishers, and is stuck on a two-week tour with their best-selling, but frustrating, author Henry Fox.

Her Royal Highness by @tailsbeth-writes

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences | Chapters: 5/?

'Shaan, can you please put an appointment in my diary?' 'Certainly sir, what is it for?' 'A reminder to kill Alex for getting me into this mess.' Shaan tried to hold back a smirk as he stepped back, tapping away on his tablet. 'Personally I think the blue glitter really brings out your eyes, sir.' This terrible idea had started like most of Alex’s did, a seedling planted by the most chaotic of the chaos demons; Nora.

or How Prince Henry ended up as a guest judge on RuPaul's Drag Race UK.

the full spectrum of human emotion by @firenati0n

Rating: Mature | Chapters: 3/6

Alex grips his hand tighter. They’re going to need to have a long, hard conversation in the next five minutes, or else Alex is going to combust right here in Pez’s fancy office. Explode for all of Midtown Manhattan to see. Here lies what remains of Alex, for all the world to witness—taken out by a rogue marriage proposal from his evil boss-turned-fiancé.

Or: Working under editor Henry Fox-Mountchristen was only supposed to be Step One in Alex’s plan of achieving his big dreams—but when his boss winds up facing an even bigger problem, potential deportation, Alex finds he isn’t just a beleaguered assistant anymore. He’s the solution.

It’s fine. They only have to fool his friends, his family, the United States Government…and themselves.

Life Is Not A Movie (But We Can Have The Fairytale) by @lfg1986-2

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 3/?

Three years after the smashing success of the first Red, White and Royal Blue film, Nicholas and Taylor are preparing to return to their roles as Henry and Alex to film the sequel. After a late night of catching up with each other and reestablishing their close bond just before rehearsals begin, they wake up to find themselves in a crazy twist of fate, where fiction blends with reality and the lines between fictional characters and the actors who portray them become irrevocably blurred.

Or

What happens when Taylor is transported into the movie universe and comes face to face with Prince Henry, while Nick wakes up to find Alex Claremont-Diaz in his living room in the place of his friend and costar? Both pairs must work together to figure out how to get themselves back where they belong, and along the way they discover some things about themselves and each other that has the potential to alter their relationships forever.

take me back to San Francisco by headabovethewater / @getmehighonmagic

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 2/8

“You don’t look like you’re having a very good time,” a soft voice suddenly startles him from his thoughts. Henry’s entire body jerks and he spills some of his drink down the front of his shirt.

“Oh, bloody-” He leans over to put his drink on the table and starts wiping at his shirt. “No, I’m- It’s not that, it’s-” He glances fleetingly at the stranger and then down at his shirt again, before his brain finally registers that oh, glasses, dark curls, white smile, exposed chest. Henry’s head snaps back up and his lips part in astonishment. Handsome doesn’t even begin to cover it. Him.

“Hi,” the man says, then chuckles. He hands Henry a napkin and gestures towards one of the other chairs at the table. “Would you mind?”

or, Henry and Alex meet on vacation in San Francisco and an instant spark between them has both of them unable to let the other go. With only two weeks to spend together and the knowledge that it can't last beyond that, it's just a massive, insurmountable recipe for disaster.

Or is it?

Unattended / Unsent mails by amnesia_on_ice / @amnesiaa-on-ice

Rating: General Audiences | Chapters: 4/?

Alex is a Singer Songwriter, henry is his arch nemesis Actor but also secretively writer. There is a long running feud between Henry and Alex. Now they are meeting for the first time in person in a vanity after party and the stan twitter have lots to digest of the meeting.

The story of Unattended/ unsent mails.

the drag of your lips by rizcriz

Rating: Mature | Chapter 2/3

Alex isn’t sure how he got here.

Here being pressed into the couch, his roommate straddling his lap and warm against every point they’re touching, soft lips moving against his own in the most sensual, leisurely pattern that Alex’s fingers instinctively flex where they’re clinging into his lower back. He’s hard in his pants, straining towards Henry, but there’s no desperate hands grasping, no drive to take this any further.

Or, Alex just really wants to make out with someone. Henry helpfully volunteers.

Foxden Park by myheartalive / @myheartalivewrites

Rating: Explicit | Chapters: 4/9

“Yes, Alex, what a terrible destiny,” Nora says. “To be hosted for a week by all these charming rich people, who have bent over backwards to accommodate us, including sending their own carriage into town to fetch us. How very dare we drag you into their nefarious scheme.”

—

Invited to a week-long house party at the Duke of Windsor’s country residence, Alex Claremont-Diaz does not expect to find anything to enjoy about his time there. What he does find is Lord Henry, the duke’s younger brother—and a boatload of things to learn about himself.

Seven days in the country in a duke's house. What could possibly happen?

[thelaughtercafe]

Coping With Hope

Tea Type: Half and Half (Fluff and Hurt/Comfort)

Potential Triggers: No twording in this fic! This whole fic centers around creating coping strategies for issues with eating, and that negative voice in one’s head! Hope this helps someone else going through this too! ❤

Pairing: Bakugou/Reader towards the end, but other characters include Todoroki, Izuku, Ochaco, Mina, Kaminari, Kirishima, and Shinsou!

Length: 1.3k+

Summary: You're so thankful for your friends, and they help you brainstorm strategies to help you with your issues.

A/N: Oh would you look at that? A follow up because I have no self control 🙃 This is more of a part 2 than anything to finish off the night so no twording yet! Next fic is where twording'll be more prominent. It physically killed me not to include Monoma in part 1 because if felt he didn’t fit the dynamic so there will definitely be a Shinsou/Reader/Monoma fic at some point.

“So. Now that we’ve established the issue; how do you want us to help?”

Todoroki sat across from you with you up by the pillow and the others all circled around you; crammed on top of Bakugou’s bed. 

You were still catching your breath a little, having suddenly been attacked by wiggling fingers and teasing for a solid 10 minutes. It had been overwhelming, but in the best way possible. No doubt Bakugou knew you needed a moment to not think which is the real reason he outed you. 

Cheeks still a little pink, the negative voice seemed too tickled out to have anything to say for once, apparently tuckered out. 

“Well…”

You nibbled your bottom lip, trying to think. 

“Maybe you guys can remind me to eat, gently?”

You fidgeted uncomfortably, shyly playing with your fingers. 

“If you ask me directly I may get defensive or anxious; the only one of you I’d say who could effectively get through to me like that is Bakugou, and Todoroki.”

“Me and Bakugou?”

Todoroki seemed surprised and almost offended and you hid a smile behind your hand as you nodded. 

“Yeah. See, Bakugou is gonna be the type to shove a cereal bar in my hand and if I try to protest he’s just gonna make me shut up before I spiral. He’ll have me eating before I have time to think about it. Whereas I could see you also giving me small snacks and such, but you have a much subtler way about you of…hm…how do I explain? Like making me go quiet and shy and just doing as asked? I guess intimidated is the right word but good intimidated if that makes sense?”

He snickered under his breath at that, making you look up as you blushed. He reached over and patted your head, affectionately.

“Uh-huh. I get what you mean cutie. That’s fine.”

You tried to move on to cope with your face burning and nodded. 

“Th-thanks! Okay um…also not treating me like different? I don’t mind subtle gestures and well-" 

You started shyly fidgeting again, eyes flicking to the mattress as you swallowed shyly. 

"Affection and physical contact could be a good way to help condition and reward me I think. I kinda forgot how touch starved I was till confronted with it and then I realized how nice it is so-but if that’s weird don’t-”

“Oh we are on it!!”

You giggled as Kaminari near tackled you before cuddling up to your side and nuzzling into your neck. tickling you slightly as you squirmed before giving up and leaning against him. Okay, admittedly that felt really nice. 

“Hey save some for us Nari no fair!!”

Uraraka pouted and made grabby hands at you as Shinsou began carding his fingers through your hair again quietly, making you melt all the more into the boy behind you.  

Bakugou snorted. 

“You really do remind me of a cat sometimes you know that? Gonna start calling you kitten.”

Your eyes popped open at that as you blushed. 

“Don’t you dare hotshot. I can think of much worse nicknames given time.”

He leered at you playfully. 

“I’m not too worried kitten~ guess you’ll have to get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes but hummed as you tried to think. Was there really anything else?

“What about when you spiral?”

Deku’s voice was kind but concerned and you stiffened a little against Kaminari before shaking your head at him. 

“Trust me; you don’t want to hear what the voice in my head shouts at me. I deal better with spirals alone. Better I break down alone, cope with it and then move on.”

He frowned at that. 

“But… you have us now. Don’t you want us to help ground you and remind you it’s not true? Kachaan used to help me with my anxiety attacks by doing that.”

You bit your lip, hesitantly but nodded. 

“I mean…I can try it. But no promises I won’t run away or something when I get overwhelmed. I get scared of having my emotions negatively affect you guys.”

“Well we’re still here and fine aren’t we?”

Kirishima piped up with a smile that made you relax again with a nod, as Izuku continued.

“Well it should definitely be an intimate group then so you don’t feel too overwhelmed. Me, and either Kirishima or Bakugou depending on who’s available…is there anyone else you think who would help?”

“If she’s not around you guys, Monoma and I can handle it.”

Shinsou spoke suddenly making you turn to angle your head towards him. 

“Are you sure?”

You knew Shinsou also struggled with spirals so you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. 

He nodded, determination clear in his eyes. 

“Mm. Yeah. And I’m sure Monoma will want to help too. He’s surprisingly good at calming people down. Who would’ve guessed him never shutting up could be useful, right?”

An amused smirk tugged at his lips that you mirrored and you nodded. 

“Okay then.”

“Ooh, ooh what about me?”

Ashido raised her hand and bounced in place a little, a grin evident as she looked eager. 

“I’m honestly kind of at a loss for more ideas-”

“Oh I got one!”

Kaminari leaned his head on your shoulder, his arms wrapped comfortably around your middle as he grinned at Ashido. 

“You like to cook right? Why don’t you make her lunches?”

You waved your hands quickly in denial at that. 

“Wha-? No no that’s okay!! I don’t want to waste ingredients or what if I can’t eat it all that day or-”

Shinsou’s utterance of your name made you freeze again and once you’d met his gaze he gave you an amused smile. 

“Breathe.”

You did so as Ashido smiled gently and put your worries at ease.

“Well I always buy too much anyway honestly. I make Kaminari’s, Jirou’s and occasionally Todoroki’s too on top of my own so if anything you’ll be helping me out! As for if you’re having trouble eating it all… I’m sure one of the boys will be ecstatic over extra food; so that way you don’t have to feel bad if it gets too hard! Sound good? Oh!”

She laughed in surprise as you hopped across the bed out of Kami’s grip who whined at the loss to hug her in answer, rubbing your back. 

At your mumbled thanks she hummed in acknowledgement. 

When you finally sat back, looking misty eyed and nervous as you glanced towards Bakugou the others knew it was time to go and began making their way out over the next several minutes as you got up to wish them well and thank them for being such great friends. 

Eventually, only Bakugou and you remained, peaceful silence between you two as you tiredly leaned against his shoulder, both of your backs against the pillows as you rested. 

Eventually, after a while, you spoke up quietly. 

“…Is it bad that I’m scared? Now that everyone knows I just…I’m worried I’ll let them down.”

You felt rather than heard him sigh and he moved to wrap the arm you’d been leaning against around your shoulders, his other hand supporting his head as he looked at the ceiling in contemplation and then answered. 

“I think…it’s perfectly normal to be afraid. Even All Might has fear, ya know? But as long as we make an effort every day to fight against that fear. Then I think we’ll also be a little better every day. That’s how I choose to think of it anyway.”

A genuine smile had bloomed across your face at that and you sighed into his neck, the elevated warmth his body provided immensely comforting and disarming.

“You’re gonna make such an amazing hero one day Bakugou. You’re already one person’s. I’m so lucky you found me.”

Your eyed had slipped shut so you missed the way his cheeks flamed though his eyes filled with pride, his grip tightening just enough to make you feel completely protective. The peck to the top of your head was quick but lingered enough to ensure you felt it. 

If you hadn’t already been starting to drift into dreamland, you surely would’ve noticed the thickness in your best friend’s voice as he murmured. 

“Go to bed, kitten. You’ve had a long day today.”

If only you knew you weren’t the only one who felt saved. 

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

happy trailer Monday! can I trouble you for a few bites? 😉

🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷🦷

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

HELLO!

Trying to finish the teeth fic so answering this one asap.

24 for 🦷:

---

Eddie exhales, relieved. He squeezes Buck’s hand. There’s a moment where they just stare at each other, neither of them seeming to know what to do. What’s the right next move? There’s no clear playbook for declaring love for your best friend of over half a decade in the middle of your kid’s wisdom tooth extraction. 

“I can’t kiss you for the first time in a room that smells like latex and sanitizer while a surgeon cuts into my kid’s face,” Eddie says eventually. He feels mildly insane. 

Buck snorts. “That’s okay, Eddie. I didn’t want to kiss you anyway.”

“Is that so?” Eddie rolls his eyes. He knows he’s full of shit. 

“Yep,” Buck nods. “Haven’t thought about it all really. Not even once.”

“Yeah, me neither,” Eddie smirks.

Buck turns so he and Eddie are parallel again, loops his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, and pulls him in close. He presses a very gentle, very sweet kiss to Eddie’s temple. Eddie’s whole body goes warm, like melting honey.

“I’m going to take you on a perfect date, and romance you, and give you the best first kiss you could ever hope for,” Buck whispers. 

“That sounds amazing,” Eddie manages to eke out in response. Because he’s too entirely overwhelmed and happy to speak clearly. 

Though, somehow, he doubts they’re going to make it that long. 

---

24 for 🧟:

---

They became even closer with this patchwork family of people Hen has grown to love very much. Not that she didn’t already love Chim more than any friend she’d ever had before him. 

And now? Now, sometimes, Hen waits for the other shoe to drop. Like, how can they have gotten off so easily, when everyone else suffered so much? How can whatever tragedy she’s managed to avoid not eventually catch up with her?

She worries. She tries not to, but she’s a mother. Of course she worries. She wants her son to have a future. And not just one where he survives. She wants him to be happy. She wants him to have things to live for. And she’s afraid of how that’s attainable if anything ever takes their weird little oasis out of time away. 

Which is why, when Chimney and Maddie say they saw someone in town with a light from the library roof, Hen is full of worry. 

They call a group meeting. Everyone crams into the cams room so no eyes are off the screens. Not right now. They can’t take any risks.

“Are we sure it’s not Buck and Eddie?” Bobby asks. 

“Why would they be north of the library?” Karen asks. “They’d have had to drive past us.”

[yallwildinrn]

Snake in the Grass: Chapter 1

For @ckhalloween23's catch-all prompt: An Empty Grave

This is a horror fic I've been working on since May or June. Given my current pace, it probably won't be out until the latter half of next year, butttt since I have this first chapter done (and I wanted it to be done in time for Halloween of this year), I figured I'd go ahead and post this as a preview and a treat! Well, treat for you guys and me haha.

Content warning for alcohol, bars, and general spookiness.

Pool balls whizz & clack against one another, but the sound is mostly drowned out. The bar, while not packed, is bustling with life, as is typical for a Friday evening; the sounds of yelling, laughter, and glasses clinking fill the already cramped space. It’s the victory cry of men who have been itching for the work week to finally, finally, end.

Dim, warm lights mask dirty floors and mysterious stains of unknown origin that seem to infect any and every upholstered seat. The single TV crammed into the back corner behind the bar top has caught the attention of several men, all shouting and celebrating – or complaining – at every pitch of the game with gnashing teeth. The bartender scrambles to sling out drink after drink of who-knows-what for the night’s customers.

Johnny himself is seated at a round, wooden table shoved near the back of the room. It’s almost uncomfortably close to the billiards tables, and each shrill hit against the pool balls becomes harder to ignore as the night wears on. He’s got some good distraction, though.

He lounges in his chair with a Coors in hand, surrounded by his friends. Bobby sits at his right, sipping his bourbon, while counterclockwise from there are Jimmy, Dutch, and Tommy. It’s tight, mostly because they had to steal a seat for Jimmy, but Johnny doesn’t mind. Not a damn bit.

He takes a long, slow sip from his drink. He still can’t believe they graduated from West Valley six whole years ago, and yet here they are, still thick as thieves. It’s not the same as it was back in high school (images of late-night, high-speed rides on their Hondas and getting plastered on the beach come to mind), but given how damn busy they all are, it’s an impressive amount of effort to keep traditions & meet-ups alive – like these monthly get-togethers at the bar, for example.

Johnny half-listens to a light-hearted argument between Tommy & Jimmy about baseball players he doesn’t give a shit about. Dutch, caught in the middle, has decided to antagonize the two of them by playing devil’s advocate for both sides. Things are getting heated, but it’s nothing Johnny finds worth worrying about. A nudge to Johnny’s arm snatches his attention away, and he turns to see Bobby with an expectant gaze and a soft, tipsy smile on his lips. Johnny reciprocates the smile without even thinking; he can thank the fact that he’s at least a few drinks in for that.

Bobby’s eyes sparkle as he leans towards Johnny. His cheeks are flushed, and his breath is rich and yeasty, laced with just a hint of sweetness. He smirks at Johnny and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask. How’s your back doing, old man?”

Anddd there it is. Johnny rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he answers, “Well, I’m no longer bed-ridden, so there’s that. I think I’ll be good to go back in a week or two once Dr. Gates gives me the green-light. I’m not supposed to see her for another two weeks, but if I feel better before then, I’m gonna see if she can squeeze me in, see if I can get back to work sooner.”

Bobby raises his brows in a look of mock shock, but it’s accompanied by a wry smile. “Did I just hear Johnny Lawrence say he’s trying to get back to work sooner? Thought you had worker’s comp to fall back on?”

“I do,” Johnny explains, snatching the neck of his Coors. The glass is smothered with wet drops of condensation that leave watery rings on the tabletop. “Just turns out that worker’s comp isn’t nearly as good as a roofing job. Pays the bills, but man.”

Johnny shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. The icy cold liquid feels like a blessing, and he sighs as the bottle leaves his lips.

Bobby shrugs a little awkwardly. He tries to reassure Johnny as best he can by reminding him, “Hey, at least you’re getting comp this time.”

Johnny frowns harshly and shuts his eyes for a moment like he’s trying to will away a headache. He sets his beer down with a soft thunk, and the moisture clinging to the glass is already dripping back onto the table. He glares at a nearby wall and mutters, “Don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying,” Bobby starts with a warm smile, swishing the alcohol in his glass with one hand. “Not working under the table has its perks.”

Another round of loud cheers fills the room. Sounds like someone finally hit the damn ball. “Yeah, but the government also takes half my damn paycheck. Jimmy still hasn’t helped me figure out how to deduct all my taxes yet,” Johnny says, loudly pulling Jimmy into the conversation.

Jimmy turns away from his own conversation with Tommy & Dutch. He leans onto an elbow and smiles at Johnny, but it’s certainly not genuine; if anything, there’s a bite to it. He answers, “Just because I’m an accountant doesn’t mean I can magically fix your taxes, Johnny. Become a business, then we can talk.”

Johnny flips him off, earning a round of chuckles around the table as Jimmy rolls his eyes and relaxes back into his seat. Dutch points at Jimmy with his beer bottle and asks the accountant, “Speaking of, have you finally been let out of your cage? First time we’ve seen you in, what? Months?”

Jimmy sighs, and Johnny realizes that the polo Jimmy’s wearing is probably the most casual thing he’s worn out and about in a while. “Tax season is finally over. Thank god for that,” Jimmy trails off, and he takes a long swig from his glass.

Tommy eyes his friends and pipes up, “Too late for another round of shots?”

Another round sounds fucking amazing. Johnny instead answers, “I’d love to, but my wallet says no.”

Bobby chimes in, “My liver also says no. That first round was enough for me.”

Dutch’s face crinkles into disappointment as he boos Bobby from across the table. His chair tips back an almost dangerous amount while he does. He shakes his head and laments, “Ya think you know a guy, but then he goes to priest school and becomes a damn prude.”

Bobby glares at him as his grip tightens on his glass. “It’s called seminary, and I’m becoming a pastor, not a priest.”

Tommy snickers & nudges Dutch, giving him a mischievous look. He points out, “Didn’t say he wasn’t a prude.”

Johnny snorts, earning himself a Bobby-patented glare, which then sends him into a laughing fit. Sometimes it can genuinely be scary to be on the receiving end of that gaze, but most of the time (especially after all these years,) it’s become damn hilarious. There’s another vicious clack of the pool balls; the start of a new game.

“I hate all of you,” Bobby huffs. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair, dragging his gaze across the figures of his (almost) drunk friends, who are still much more sober than half of the room. “Why do I even hang out with you assholes? What did I do to deserve this?”

Jimmy sips on his glass and looks at Bobby. His lips curl into a wry smile. “Be a prude?”

Johnny thinks he can see a vein bulge in Bobby’s forehead, and he has to stifle another snort. Bobby’s lips pull into a tight, frustrated line across his face. He finishes the last of his bourbon with a small gulp and slaps his palm onto the table so he can push himself out of his chair. “I fucking hate you. All of you. I’m getting another drink.”

He pushes his chair back in with his foot and starts to weave through the maze of people & tables, and Tommy smiles like a Cheshire cat and calls out, “Can you-?”

“No,” Bobby yells back as he crosses the bustling room. Tommy cackles in his seat, and Dutch follows suit, clapping a hand on Tommy’s shoulder and howling beside him. Johnny simply shakes his head and leans onto the table, resting on his forearms.

The wood sticks to his skin. He can only imagine how much dust is trapped under layers of sticky god-knows-what. Probably more than he realizes. It’s kind of gross to think about, but it doesn’t really faze him, especially when everything about this bar fits that bill. Not much about this place is great: the bartender’s a dick, the bowls of pretzels are stale as shit and few & far between, it’s impossible to find a seat without a weird stain on it, and there’s never more than two beers on tap.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad, though. Johnny never has to worry about them running out of Coors. It’s a pretty good distance between all their places. The prices aren’t half bad, and hell, it doesn’t even come close to gracing their top ten list of “Shittiest Bars This Side of California!” So yeah, really not all bad, at least if you ask him.

Tommy’s hyena-like cackle grabs Johnny’s attention and pulls him back into whatever conversations he’s missed. “No, no,” Tommy starts, smiling wide. “I’m just- can you believe any of us actually graduated?”

Jimmy levies Tommy with a self-satisfied smile. “No, I actually can’t believe any of you guys graduated,” he teases. Tommy rolls his eyes.

Dutch scowls. “Yes, yes, we know. You made an A once and got into a big boy college, keep it in your pants,” He replies gruffly, finishing his statement with a swig.

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy elaborates dryly while gesturing with his drink. “You’re not wrong, but think about it. Our senior year was such a shitshow.”

Dutch smirks and looks Johnny’s way. “I blame Romeo over here. Had no idea a breakup would lead to all that bullshit with LaRusso.”

Johnny stifles at the comment, and his cheeks flush – now red from more than just the alcohol – as he glares at Dutch. He’s about to bark out a comeback, but Bobby cuts him off when he comes sauntering back, freshly filled glass in hand, and retorts, “Oh please, we’re all to blame. We escalated it when we should’ve just left things alone.”

Bobby slides into his chair a little ungracefully, wood scraping against the floor, while Dutch shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He nods his head down a little sheepishly because… yeah. Bobby’s right, as much Johnny hates to admit it. Back at West Valley, they were all chomping at the bit to put the twerp in his place, but none of that needed to happen or even should have happened. They saw red, and LaRusso got caught in the crossfire. It was like they didn’t even see him. Just a conveniently placed punching bag.

The table’s air stills; the rest of the bar continues to thrum with activity while the atmosphere of their little corner slowly ices over. Johnny purses his lips and sips at his beer. Guilt gnaws his ribcage. Even after all these years, after the apologies and many, many steps to make things right, he’s still stuck with bitter memories that choke him up. He opts to study the many dings & scratches on the table rather than meet any of his friends’ eyes.

Jimmy’s the first to break the tense silence. “You know, if we have anyone to blame, it’s Kreese,” he spits out. It hits Johnny like a jab to the chest. He’s taken aback as Jimmy says this, but the man continues, “He put so much bullshit in our heads! All that punch first, think second nonsense. Like, come on-”

“Wait, wait,” Johnny interrupts while waving his hand to stop Jimmy in his tracks. How can he just say that? “Look, he was a total douchebag – I should fucking know – but we’re the ones who took what he said too far. We were still the ones who fucked with LaRusso. He didn’t tell us to do any of that shit.”

Tommy shifts beside him and stumbles over his words. “Yeah, like- but- Look, okay, you’re right, it’s totally on us for taking shit way too far, but Johnny,” Tommy says, and he turns to Johnny with pleading eyes. “He literally taught us to have no mercy. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration.”

Johnny frowns. “Yeah, but we took it out of context. He obviously meant to not take no for an answer, to- to keep pushing on despite the circumstances,” he explains. Are they seriously saying this shit? Even after all these years? After everything Kreese did for them? For fuck’s sake…

Dutch is next to speak. He throws Johnny an odd look as he adds, “Did we go to the same Cobra Kai? Because the one I went to taught us to do fucking everything to the extreme. Including the no mercy shit. Hell, he even had us do karate to the extreme. All those extra goddamn practices…”

“Yeah, and they were good for us. We needed some discipline!” Johnny snaps back defensively. His blood is starting to boil with every bullshit argument that his friends make.

He starts to bounce his leg. The sounds of laughter pouring out from a nearby table makes him want to snarl. He doesn’t get it, how can his friends just- just pass the blame onto Kreese? The guy at least tried to help them and make them into better people (before his sensei lost his mind, that is.)

Johnny turns to Bobby, who’s worrying his lip and squirming like he’s sitting on an anthill. “Come on,” Johnny says. “Back me up here.”

Bobby looks away from Johnny, jaw tense, but he turns back. He lets out a breath, look Johnny square on with a worrying level of sincerity, and says, “Johnny. Kreese worked us so hard once that you forget it was Ali’s birthday. She broke up with you over that.”

Johnny’s skin buzzes. He’s all too aware of the overpowering noise of the room. Hell, he feels like he can feel the next table over breathing on him. His stomach rolls. “That is not what happened,” Johnny insists with a hard stare. “Practice that day was not that bad. I remember it. It was fine.”

Tommy scoffs, “Then why were you so quick to go out drinking with us?”

Johnny’s more tense than a stretched-out rubber band, and he feels like he’s going to snap like one, too. He scowls and answers, “I forgot because…”

Johnny blinks and turns his gaze down. Sweat collects at the back of his neck while his chest tightens.

“No, I-I forgot because…”

His mouth is a cotton ball. He’s reaching into his mind, searching for the memory, but he just… it’s not right. It’s there, but somehow, it also isn’t. He remembers being brought in for an extra practice with his cobras, Twig being brought in to watch & help, the end of practice, getting ready to leave, and then…

His temples throb as tries harder to remember, but he can’t. There’s a gap, a void where something should be. It’s not like he’s just forgotten the details, god no. He’s actively reaching into his mind, searching and grasping for what should be there, sandwiched between the sparring and the night at the bar, but he just… He can’t. He can’t get there. Every time he thinks he’s brushing against what might be the memory in question, a pulsing throb shakes his skull, and it rattles his train of thought loose.

His eyes dart between his friends. His heart pounds furiously against his vice of a ribcage, and he wipes his sweaty palms against the thighs of his pants. Their faces are a varied array of distress and confusion. Why do they look like that? Are they trying – and failing – to remember, just like him? Shit, why can’t he remember?

A chill threatens to run down his spine. Could he ever remember?

When he was fresh off the breakup with Ali, he would spend hours torturing himself with all the ways he screwed things up; it was his way of trying to nail down exactly what he did wrong. Except… he always left that practice turned night-on-the-town alone. He never touched it, to his knowledge. Is- Is this why? Every time he tried to play the events over in his mind, would he get to this downright anomaly of a gap in his memory, and did it make him feel- well, make him feel like he does now? Sick and shaken?

Is that why he never, never thinks about the inciting incident that led Ali to yell at him and tell him things were done? Did the avoidance become muscle memory at some point so he would never try to recall that night & the memories associated with it?

He knows the answer. He doesn’t like it.

It doesn’t even feel natural. It’s not like he just forgot; no, it’s more like something was ripped out unceremoniously or maybe strangled and hidden in an unreachable corner of his mind. Does it matter what type of wrong it is? He wipes the sweat from his brow; the heat from the crowd of the bar tonight has finally caught up to him, it seems.

His mind circles back. Why can’t he remember? Why is there a gap? How long has it been there? Has- has it always been there? And not just any gap. No, a gap that, when he tries to recall upon what should be there, snaps up & bites him like a cornered animal. His head is throbbing. He fumbles for his beer and takes a long drink.

He looks again to his friends. He can only imagine the expression on his own face given theirs. He takes a chance and says, “Please tell me I-I’m not the only one who…”

Bobby slowly shakes his head, eyebrows knit, but he doesn’t meet Johnny’s gaze. Jimmy and Dutch don’t move; they simply squirm and keep their eyes down. Tommy’s chest is heaving as he sits up straight and looks ahead with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Johnny knows they must be in the same boat as him. They have to be.

Tommy answers with a shaky voice, “Who what?” Johnny almost drops his mouth wide open. Tommy’s asking that even though the man isn’t meeting anyone’s eyes and looks like he wants to run out of the room?

“Who what? What do you mean who what?” Johnny asks incredulously. “Who- who can’t fucking remember what happened that night!”

Tommy’s smiling, but it’s strained. He answers, voice as tight as his lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Johnny grips his Coors so hard he thinks it’s going to shatter in his hands. “What do you mean what I’m-? You know exactly what I mean. Look at us! Look at yourself! Something’s not right.”

“Johnny,” Bobby pleads. At some point he rested his forehead in his hands, elbows on the table. “You’re- you’re not wrong, but Christ-”

Johnny turns to face Bobby with an eager gaze. He cuts him off, saying, “You can’t remember, either. It’s not just me. Something’s wrong.”

Bobby sighs through his nose. He’s getting frustrated; it’s a tell Johnny knows well. “No, Johnny,” Bobby says shortly. “I can’t remember. But I don’t want to. God, I just… I think I can speak for all of us when I say let’s just drop it. Please. I don’t want to think about-”

Bobby’s practically pleading, but Johnny doesn’t care. What’s more fucking important: a little bit of discomfort or the fact none of them remember the same exact damn thing?

Johnny cuts him off again and snarls, “About the fact there’s a fucking gap in our memories? The same gap for all of us, I’m willing to bet? One we’ve probably had since that night?”

Bobby shuts his eyes, and Johnny’s not sure if the man is going to cry or punch him, but given their shared history at Cobra Kai, it’s probably the latter. Dutch speaks up next, snapping, “Johnny! Just drop it! Yes, our memories are fucked, big whoop. I don’t care! I don’t want to think about it either! I don’t know about you, but I don’t like trying to remember and feeling my skin try to crawl off my body.”

Johnny drums his fingers against his bottle. He can’t fight the scowl on his lips. “Seriously? You’re just going to ignore this? Just like that?”

Dutch laughs bitterly. “Seems like we’ve been doing that for years, man,” he says with a shake of the head, but he pauses and looks Johnny straight on. “You know what? Hold on, let me ask you something. Let’s say we do talk about this shit. Have a little pow-wow and Agatha Christie our way through this bullshit. What the hell would we even do? Seriously, how in the fuck would you even recommend we- we try to fix this? Please, share with the class!”

Johnny opens his mouth to answer but shuts it tight in that same instant. His cheeks flush again. He genuinely has no idea where to start, actually. He does know that if they work together, they might have a shot, but Dutch writing him off with that cruel smile makes Johnny want to scream.

“Exactly,” Dutch says like the self-assured bastard he is, gesturing at Johnny with his drink in hand. “We can’t do shit, and since we’ve gone this long without thinking about it, why stop now? Sounds like none of us want to think about it, for christ’s sake.”

Johnny’s throat is tight. He can hardly believe what Dutch is saying. What Tommy and Bobby have been fucking saying. His blood pulses under his skin, and he turns to Jimmy, almost begging, “Jimmy. Come on, back me up. We can’t just pretend this never happened.”

Jimmy doesn’t look him in the eye, and it’s enough to make Johnny’s heart sink. The brunette swallows, lips turned downward ever so slightly, and he hesitantly answers, “Look, I-I’m sorry Johnny. I can’t. Why don’t we just… let sleeping dogs lie? All remembering does is hurt, and we can’t do anything about it, so why can’t we just…”

Johnny screws his eyes shut tight and flexes a hand in and out of a fist a few times. He brings his Coors to his lips, takes a healthy gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with enough force to make his friends jump a little. He glares at them all. He can hardly believe all the bullshit he’s heard tonight.

“Why can’t I just what? Drop it? Why aren’t you pussies willing to do anything about this?! It’s not right! Something is fucking wrong, and you just want to act like nothing happened!” Johnny says. His voice is starting to raise, and he’s getting the attention of a few nearby patrons, but quite frankly, he doesn’t give a shit. Fuck ‘em. “What is wrong with you guys? Who gives a fuck if it hurts to think about it! Something is wrong, and it sure as hell wasn’t just forgotten. It’s gone. Or- or it’s there and we just can’t reach it but- Who cares! It’s still weird as shit, and you’re all just pretending like nothing fucking happened like a bunch of pussies!”

Bobby attempts to soothe him by saying, “Johnny, please, I don’t think this is as bad as you’re saying.”

Johnny feels his muscles tense, and he swears to god, he might break a tooth from how hard his jaw is clenched. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, only able to focus on the traitorous words that just came out of Bobby’s mouth, and when his vision clears, everything is suddenly too much again – screeching pool balls, wails & shouts from the crowd around them, the way his body is vibrating under his skin. He has to fight against the urge to throw & shatter his beer bottle on the ground (likely only because he’s not done quite with it yet).

He can’t believe that Bobby of all people would say that to him. Talk down to him like that. That simple sentence rubs him raw like coarse sandpaper dragged his skin. It conjures up painful memories of his mom brushing aside his pleas for help and, on occasion, Kreese asking him through a sneer if he’s a loser. And worst of all, Bobby knows this, better than anyone else. He’s been the one to listen to Johnny rant and rage about being brushed off and ignored. He knows how that phrase sets Johnny’s blood alight.

Johnny chugs the rest of his beer in one fell swoop and steps out of his chair so fast & hard it tumbles. He doesn’t even bother picking it up. He bites out, “Fuck this. I’m going home. I don’t give a fuck what you do. Pretend for all I care! Don’t come crying to me when this shit blows up in all of our faces.”

Johnny ignores Bobby’s protests as he begins to chase after the taller man, trying to get Johnny to talk to him or whatever. Johnny can’t talk to him, won’t. He can’t even look at him right now. He grits his teeth as he weaves between people, and the longer Bobby follows, the more certain Johnny becomes that he really might start swinging.

Johnny has to shoulder his way into an open spot and wait for the bartender to slide by, but flashing some cash is all it takes to grab his attention. He feels like his skin is going to vibrate right off his body, and he snaps at some asshole sitting beside him who tells him to watch it.

Bobby catches up to Johnny as he’s trying to pay the bartender, worthless platitudes tumbling out of his mouth, and Johnny hisses through clenched teeth, “If you don’t lay off, I’m gonna knock your teeth out, I swear to god.”

It works as intended. Bobby steps back, startled and wide-eyed. Johnny knows he looks a little wild right now, but he just does not care. He feels like he’s one wrong word or move away from snapping, from saying & doing shit he’s going to regret. He just wants to get out of this fucking bar and away from his shithead friends.

Johnny breathes a small sigh of relief when Bobby accepts defeat and slinks back to the table stuffed in the back of the room. He always was the smartest of the five of them. He knew when it was time to leave things be before it blew up in their faces. Johnny thinks of Daniel, and he feels a little sick, but it’s replaced with another wave of hot, tepid anger again, the same kind that haunted him all through high school.

With his tab paid, Johnny shoves his way out of the bar, other patrons throwing protests, swears, & a few obscene gestures at him, but Johnny makes himself ignore it and pushes on. If he starts to pay attention and care right now, even a little, he’s probably gonna get the cops called on his ass, and he just- he can’t deal with that on top of everything else tonight.

He opens the bar door with a hard shove, and the chill night air washes over him. While the streets are neither silent nor empty, it’s still much better than the bar, and he feels his chest loosen enough that he can breathe again. He stomps over to his Avanti, and halfway through sticking his key into the door’s lock, he decides that he doesn’t have enough beer at home to deal with this night.

[excelsi-or]

summoned (pt. 7)

Hi everyone :D I'm determined to finish posting this story by the end of October. I'm in a transitionary period right now, so I have time to do this. Love yous. Hope you're all staying well xx Also, just in case some of you read your fics on AO3 more often (like I do), I'm also posting this one on AO3 (All my other stories are there as well.)

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

"When you told me this morning your mother was a demon, you failed to mention she was the right-hand demon," Jihoon accuses.

She packs her book into her bag, as she gets up from the tree swing her father had put up after the first time she'd walked out of a conversation. She used it infrequently for the purposes of storming out on her parents, instead using it as a place to think.

Now, she shrugs. "If you haven't realized, there are a lot of things about my parents that I don't want to know about."

"I think we should speak with your father," Seokmin says. He can feel a fight brewing, and his brain is still struggling to catch up.

"I know." She glances at Jihoon, as they walk towards the car. "You might have to stay outside. Mom doesn't like angels, but Dad hates demons."

"How in the world did they even have the ability to fall in love with all these preconceived biases?" Seokmin wonders.

They climb back into the car, and she types her father's bookstore address into the GPS. The way Jihoon drives, it'll take a minute or two to get there. They could have walked, but Jihoon would have huffed the whole way and Seokmin tends to struggle keeping both feet on the ground.

Once they arrive at her father's corner bookstore, she tells Jihoon to stay put.

"I—"

"Do you really want to come in with me?" She's already halfway out of his car. "My dad will automatically assume we're dating."

Jihoon's brow furrows at this seemingly non-sequitur. "What?"

"No way I'm dating an angel." With a hand from Seokmin, she gets to her feet. "My parents are just as apprehensive about who I bring home as Hansol. So, please," she meets his eye to let her know she's serious, "stay here."

Seokmin trails after her and is surprised at how many books are crammed inside the corner store. Every perimeter wall is covered in books. More standalone bookshelves taper in towards the center of the room, where a skylight clearly highlights a man dressed in white linen. A man who must be her father. And is clearly in the middle of doing something.

"Dad?"

The man looks up and grins. "Your mother called me. She said you were bringing friends to see me." The smile on his face brightens further as he recognizes Seokmin. "An angel." He peers over their shoulder, looking for the reason why his partner pluralized the word 'friend'.

"The other friend is in the car," she says as way of explanation. "This is my dad, Tin. He'll forget to introduce himself." With a lazy wave of her hand, already walking off to wander her father's stacks, she says, "Seokmin wanted to talk to you."

The angels immediately hit the ground running, bypassing pleasantries and exchanging notes on human and angel interaction. Seokmin peppers Tin with questions about his meetings with Gabriel. 

She wanders the aisles, looking through the additions her father's acquired since the last time she'd visited. Regardless of where she is in the store, she can hear the conversation. So, she can hear Seokmin setting up a platform for his ultimate question. 

"Have you heard any chatter about a demon revolt?" Seokmin finally asks.

Her father goes silent. She peers around one of the bookshelves. Her father stares down at the top of the counter. It's a recognizable move for those that knew the angel: his thinking pose. His 'I'm considering making up excuses' pose.

"You've met Xero, so you know that she's a demon."

'Yes." Seokmin doesn't bother to add that simply calling Xero a demon brushes over the fact that she was a high-ranking demon before she and Tin had a child. And he has plenty of questions as to how Tin had managed that.

"For the sake of peace, we tend to leave the house or go to different floors when we have particular guests over."

"Like if Gabe came to visit you," Seokmin guesses.

Tin's daughter is actually surprised he's not omitting more.

Maybe her father knows she can hear them and is probably listening. Or maybe he doesn't lie to angels. She's never actually seen him interact with other angels, usually taking his business out of the house unlike her mother.

"Exactly. I tend to bring angels here," her father agrees. "But... I may have heard my wife mention something about bodies and possession. I didn't say anything, because I wasn't entirely sure. I know she's made her deals to be with me; we both have."

Seokmin nods his head. Both he and his friend are wondering if either angel or demon regretted the deals they'd made.

"I haven't mentioned it to Gabe, because frankly..." Her father looks around the store, and she ducks back behind the shelves out of view. "My daughter isn't going to live for millennia."

"You want to see her live to the end. Before the Final Day," Seokmin reasons.

"Exactly. If I were to tell any angel, other than you, that I had heard something?"

"Heaven would rain down."

"So, I didn't say anything."

"Well, we're working at trying to stop whatever it is the demons are doing."

Her father's voice quiets further. "It's not just the demons."

Her brow furrows at this. That's the first time she's heard anything of the like. But her father seems to think Seokmin doesn't know about it either.

"Haven't you noticed the increase in natural disasters? That coincide with the increase in human rights activism?" Tin prompts.

"Yes." Seokmin's already very full brain is trying to process this new piece of information. Luckily, it doesn't take more prompting or a hundred years for it to dawn on him. "Human rights activism cleanses peoples' souls, and the increase in natural disasters will wipe them out eventually when they can't shelter themselves enough."

"It's something that Gabe, Luke, and Michael mentioned to me a while back and we had discussed it. I said that maybe if we started slow, it'd be enough to keep the demons from noticing. And the humans from stirring up too much trouble to alert them."

She presses her forehead against the nearest shelf, trying her hardest not to just knock herself unconscious so she doesn't need to deal anymore.

"Obviously, natural disasters are natural because they're a reaction from climate change now. We've only just helped it along, but if humans are able to get a hold of climate change in time," Tin shrugs, "who knows?"

She knows her father's views on climate change. His usual song is: "Humans are idiots. Why aren't they doing anything about it it? Don't they have any self-preservation skills?"

Seokmin hums. "That's a fair, but currently unlikely, hope."

"As long as my daughter is alive, I'd rather that the Final Day was held off."

"Right."

Tin, seemingly satisfied with what he'd shared, calls out. "You can come out now, anghel."

She joins them and looks between Seokmin and her father. Then she kisses her father's cheek. "I'll come for dinner soon."

Her father hugs her to his side to kiss the top of her head. "Please. And bring your friends along. I miss Hansol and Seungkwan. I'll make them more puto."

She chuckles. Hansol's the only human she's ever brought home that her mom tolerates. But her father adored Seungkwan ever since he devoured all the puto last time with gusto and praise. "Yes, I'll let them know. Love you. Remind Mom for me."

Jihoon has his eyes closed when they return to the car. "So?"

"We have more problems than I thought," Seokmin announces once he's slammed the door behind him.

Jihoon looks over his shoulder, a disapproving look on his face.

Seokmin rolls his eyes. "The car? Seriously? This world could be ending and that's what you care about?"

"What do you mean?"

Seokmin explains the conversation with Tin. And Jihoon sighs loudly in response.

When he looks over at the human, she's staring out the window, no comments. Jihoon's brow furrows, and he exchanges looks with Seokmin. The angel only shrugs in response.

"I gotta get to work," Seokmin says. "You can drop me off there."

Once they're alone in the car after dropping Seokmin off, Jihoon states, "You're being quiet."

"Hmm?" She hadn't said anything the entire way to Seokmin's work. "Uh, yeah."

"For someone with demon blood, you're not a good liar."

This gets a small smile, and then she turns back out the window. "Mm."

"Nothing? Something must be wrong." With that, he lets the conversation go.

Instead, Jihoon starts coming up with a list of things he needs to do to move this sudden project forward. But the actual methodology of how to stop what's happening is not coming to him. He does know the first step on his list is to go to the hospital and see what's going on. Jihoon didn't get the name of the hospital from Xero, but he did see a list of phone numbers of places located on the human's fridge. 

It must be there. 

The human seems responsible enough for that.

They walk through her apartment door in continuous silence. Immediately, she sits at her drawing desk. Jihoon recognizes the sound of pencil on paper and figures the human won't talk until she's ready.

So, he checks the fridge. Sure enough, the hospital name is listed as the last contact. 

Jihoon picks her phone up off her desk and tries to open it. When it doesn't, Jihoon hands the phone to her. "Open."

She does so without thinking.

Jihoon doesn't bother searching for a map, as he knows this little device has one. He wills the app to the forefront of the screen and opens it. It takes him a little while to type in the name of the hospital, but he gets there in the end.

The demon is about to ask her address but accidentally zooms out. It takes him another few attempts to figure out how he did it, but once he does, he zooms out to see a little blue blip.

Your location.

According to the app, it takes about an hour to get to the hospital.

The human is hunched over the desk. The sound of her pencil scratching along paper is furious. He's surprised she's not tearing through the paper. 

Curious, Jihoon peeks over her shoulder. He lifts an eyebrow. There are sketches of faces and buildings, mixes between angels and demons. He recognizes Linnaeus. He even recognizes Gabriel, the one angel that comes to visit Hell every so often.

Jihoon backs away, deciding to leave her to it. He can't really leave without her anyway. So, the demon plucks a young adult romance shelf that he hasn't read yet and stretches himself out on the couch to wait.

part 8

[nocompromise-noregrets]

five good things

Because I'm in a pretty good mood at the moment, despite the impending doom and the fact I still haven't started writing the essay I have to hand in by next Wednesday...

I had an absolutely fantastic time in Finland, even if one of the gigs I was planning to go to got cancelled in favour of a show three weeks later at a bar round the corner from the hotel I'd been staying in, aargh. Although given the general state of insanity I've descended into since, and given that the cancelled gig was that of Japa's new band and I've always been extremely fond of him, it's probably a good thing. XD Anyway, I spent ten days running around Helsinki, Espoo, Turku and Tampere, sightseeing and cramming in as many museums and galleries as I could thanks to my museokortti (paid €70, got about €400-worth of museums and galleries out of it!), drank a lot of nice beer, also drank a lot of lonkero (gin and grapefruit soda, utterly glorious), ate a lot of nice food, saw two AWESOME gigs, and generally recharged my batteries quite enormously. Photos sometime, once I sort myself out a bit.

And then I had another absolutely fantastic time in London with the ever-lovely @lemurious, running around more museums and galleries and drinking more beer and eating more food and seeing two AWESOME shows and talking about all sorts of fandom things!

And then I started posting Two of a Kind again, at lemurious' encouragement (thank you! <333333 ), and it has readers!!!! Renewed and flailing thanks to @pyromaniacbibliophile and @seagull-energy for giving my disastrous boys Hal and Jack a go! <3333333 I've been figuring out where some bits of it need to go, how to join some bits of it together, and I'm having a marvellous time with it!

And then @pyromaniacbibliophile suggested The Driver by Måneskin as a very Jack-ish sort of song, which it is, and I tripped and fell face-first into full-on chewing-the-scenery obsession. Um. 18.6k of fic written in a week? A series of five fics and probably more to come? What the actual fuck even is my LIFE right now. augh they're so PRETTY and NAUGHTY I am far FAR too old and tired and ACE for this I've had their whole discography on repeat since last Wednesday and am struggling to surface, or indeed to get anything else done. I tried putting a different playlist on yesterday and I honestly felt like I was trying and failing to wake up. I could rather do with shaking this off because I HAVE AN ESSAY TO WRITE DAMMIT down, boys, shut up for a little while I need to do something else than write ridiculous slightly kinky fluff about you! >.< (but seriously I am having a whale of a time with it, I haven't felt this inspired or this obsessed in a long while, and I'm going to just surf the wave for as long as I possibly can because I'm also super motivated and super cheerful at the moment :D )

And as a direct consequence of this I am back in touch with one of my oldest fandom friends who, it turns out, has been writing Måneskin RPF for a while; I stumbled across one of her fics without realising it was hers as she has a different username, commented flailingly, and then had a message on FB going 'oh hey you just commented on one of my fics!' and we've been catching up and chatting ever since and at least 10k of that fic is thanks to her sending me extremely pretty pictures and videos and telling me stuff about them and sparking the muses. It's been an absolute dog's age, but we used to RP a long long time ago in our old fandom and it is so nice to talk to her again, partly in our own voices and partly as the characters we're writing (we did it in person once, all the way from Camden to Belgravia, much to the bemusement of the friend who was with us at the time XDDD ). And good lord the prettiness of the pictures and videos. I am...oh yeah, far FAR too old and tired and ace for this. XDDDD

And work is fun at the moment, I am sorting out all the minutes of all the committees of the county council so they are catalogued and structured in a sensible way that we can add new volumes onto when we receive them; the minutes themselves are desperately dull and I am sure nobody else would enjoy this, but I am an enormous administrative systems nerd and I am finding it extremely satisfying.

And my MA course is also very interesting and rewarding, although I've been struggling a bit with the first assignment as part of it involved having to post on a given subject to the tutor group forum and then responding to other students' posts, and I don't particularly enjoy that sort of thing so I haven't been very motivated for it, although one of my favourite fellow students from the systemic functional grammar course a couple of years ago is doing this one and is already making some excellent points in a very dad-jokey way that helps me understand what's going on :D But the essay I have been being distracted from by the overexcitable Italian muses (DOWN, boys) is only 1500 words so I should be able to bash that out this weekend with any luck if the Italians shut the fuck up for FIVE MINUTES OH MY GOD.

And I'm off to the old country (Suffolk) to see the parents next week, and give a talk to my dad's history group about gardener-lady from job number two, which will be fun, although I managed to slightly double-book myself and I need to come straight back on Thursday morning because...

we're off to Wolverhampton to see my absolute heroes Michael Monroe and Sami Yaffa play their band Hanoi Rocks' classic album Two Steps from the Move for its 40th anniversary with our mate Lynda who is as huge a Hanoi fan as I am, and then to see The Almighty the following night, who the missus and I both really liked in the 90s. So that's fun!

I think that's more than enough for now. Now to see if I can stay muse-free long enough to write that effing essay...on the other hand my friend and I are planning to watch a documentary on Måneskin's time on X-Factor Italia tomorrow afternoon and squeal at each other, so I have the space of a morning to get on with it before I lose the plot again, I suspect XDDDDD a;djfl;aksdfl;adsjkfa;sdfkla;sd *facepalm*

[donaidk]

INQUISITIONE - PIERRE GASLY Part I

This was the first ever fic I posted here on Tumblr or anywhere else as a present for @x-lipstickstain-x. Always was one of my faves even if I abandoned it once I got myself way too deep into other fics as well. Now it's time to give it a makeover, rewriting every part and adding a few bits and bobs cause my style got better since and I'm not scared to admit it was rushed at a few bits. Hope you guys will enjoy it 🧡

Now reading: Part I (- | Part II)

Masterlist

Travelling to Monaco wasn’t exactly part of my plans, right until my invitation for the Laureus Sports Awards Ceremony. It wasn’t exactly unexpected as there has been chatter going around about a possible nomination for my performance in the last year. However, from the moment I had to miss out on a few dates in the championship calendar thanks to injuries and precautions it seemed like my chance faded away slowly but surely. Even after getting the invite the idea of getting to take the award home never crossed my mind, mostly thanks to my own brother. Julien being a well known name in the same sport on a lower level and loving to act like my manager meant our work was almost the only topic we seemed to discuss. He was always a strict person, more with keeping me in top shape than anything else in his own life, which often unfolded in using missed opportunities as a crude type of motivation. In this exact setting, he never let me forget that I would be missing out on a prestigious award because I just wouldn’t push through setbacks hard enough. His words for ‘you will get there next time around, don’t worry’ as I like to imagine.

That said, the invite was almost swept under the rug as I suspected it would just be a night of heartache and longing right until Julien caught a whiff of it. I could partially agree with him that not attending was a sore loser type of choice, but I wasn’t embarrassed to accept that it’s exactly how I was feeling. Like a sore loser. Even as I was getting ready for the evening my brain was struggling to understand how Julien managed to change my mind about attending. He tried using Charles being a guest of the event, someone who he was great friends with since they met a few years ago and who I tolerated but only considered as an acquaintance. It somehow worked in a way that we decided to accept the invite just for him to be my plus one, giving him a chance to spend some time with Charles who according to Julien was happy about the news during their next phone call.

My only relief was that Julien agreed to get a hotel room instead of staying with Charles, being crammed into a typical small Monaco flat being a nightmare of mine. Having our own rooms gave me the breathing space I sometimes needed from him and meant we could have our usual very different routines without them clashing and causing arguments like usual. It was almost a mystery how people could even guess we were siblings, with all the differences from our personality and mindset to how we looked. Patience levels being one of our biggest differences.

“ Are you finally ready? ” I heard Julien from the living room of the hotel room. He showed up half an hour ago, stating that we’re gonna be late even though we still had an hour to get into a car as we previously planned with the intention of arriving early.

“ You were the one who was too early. ” I rolled my eyes while clasping my earrings and standing up from the little desk that had all of my makeup and hair stuff on it. “ Does your patience really not exist or is it just me who doesn’t deserve any of it? ” I asked him as I stepped out of the bedroom only to get one of the bags that had my heels in them.

“ Don’t start it. Today should be a calm evening. ” He stood up, just missing my eye roll, stepping to the door while I slid my feet into the shoes and followed him outside as soon as I had my jacket in my hands. I wasn’t planning on catching a cold, even though Monaco was usually warm. It was February, and we were lucky enough to be met with quite cold weather for the weekend of the event. “ You look good. ” He added as I made sure the door was closed but then walked past him, without taking a look at him.

’ You’re not saving it with that. ’ I shook my head at my thoughts, rather just looking forward and calling the elevator as we got to it. Sometimes I hated how cold we could be to each other while just a second later we could joke around with grins on our faces. The rarer exchange between us. It was truly a strange siblingship we managed to build up. I couldn’t even call it a usual brother-sister situation. Even if on most days he truly acted like an older brother, looking out for me and making sure I wasn’t hurt by anything or anyone. There just should have been more of that than anything else he decided to add to our lives. “ Charles meeting us at the venue? ” I asked once the silence in the elevator took a toll on me.

„ I think so. ” He shrugged a little, stepping outside as we arrived and went to get us the car that was promised. “ He said he’s gonna text me if he arrives or decides to get a car with us. Which he didn’t do yet, so I’m guessing he will meet us there. ” He checked his phone again, letting me leave the building first after he opened the door. I got my jacket on my shoulders, as my dress was quite open, and followed Julien to the car that was parked next to the building.

He and Charles met at a sports event two years ago, becoming friends instantly. Since then they have spent quite some time together, visiting each other in Monaco or France, and even going on vacations when they had a break at the same time. It was quite rare, as the F1 winter break was the main part of our season, leaving only the summer break for them to travel together. Somehow I never really got close to Charles, even though I did spend time with them when they had a plan together or were spending time at our apartment while I still lived with Julien in France. I never had a problem with him, he was a great guy. We just never really connected and needed each other's company when we had the chance to be together.

Ten minutes later we were already at the venue, the opening of the car door yanking me back from my memories immediately. We managed to enter the building without any hold up, showing our passes at the entrance and deciding to walk around a bit so we could check out everything before we would have to sit down at our table. It wasn’t long before we both got a glass of champagne and found some skiing friends we stopped to talk to. Julien was in the middle of one of his interesting stories, that we probably already heard from him like four times when I spotted Charles coming our way from the other side of the room. I poked my brother on his shoulder to get his attention, almost getting a glare from him in exchange before he spotted his friend and a grin crept onto his face. He still quickly finished his story, before excusing us out of the conversation and leading both of us to Charles. I didn’t really plan on following him but he made it visible that he wanted me to be by his side so I won’t get lost in the crowd.

“ Welcome to Monaco, guys! How have you been? ” Charles grinned at us as we finally stood in front of him, greeting both of us with a short hug. He wasn’t alone though, a stranger standing next to him, with a glass in his hand. Although his face was familiar, I couldn’t really connect it to a name in my head. However, they didn’t really pay any attention to him as they started talking immediately. It was quite awkward to stand there looking at either each other or my brother and Charles. Luckily one of the hosts saved the moment, by requesting everyone to take their seat at a table, making us walk towards the sitting area. We walked next to each other, following Julien and Charles, not really knowing how to handle the situation, before getting brave enough to finally open my mouth.

“ I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Fleur, Julien’s sister. ” I turned to him when we had to wait for the queue to move. If it would have been on the two idiots in front of us, we would have ended the night not even knowing each other's names.

“ Pierre, Charles’s childhood friend. Although you wouldn’t be able to tell. ” He let out a laugh looking at his friend who was so deep in the conversation with my brother that he almost tripped on his own foot. The scene made me shake my head with a smile as we followed them through the crowd to an empty table with six chairs next to it in a half-circle shape.

The two of them straight away sat down on the farthest two of the chairs next to each other, not leaving space for Pierre who in the end chose the chair on my left as I got next to Julien. I was trying to get my jacket behind me, somehow getting it stuck every time I tried, when he took it from me and in a swift motion smoothed it onto the back of my chair. I thanked him with a quick smile, looking back forward as the hosts appeared on the stage to start the whole event.

“ I never thought I would feel such a third wheel in my life again. ” Pierre whispered to me almost ten minutes into it, as Charles and Julien were still talking between them, not even caring about us.

“ You haven't spent enough time with my brother yet. He can make you feel like that even if you are alone with him. ” I sighed, looking at him as it wasn’t even that interesting on the stage. “ I don’t really like spending time with the two of them if there isn’t someone else with us. ” I shrugged my shoulders, as I took a sip from my drink.

“ He sounds like great company. ” He chuckled, making me smile too, although it was actually sad how little he cared about anything outside of his own feelings. But that’s Julien. You either deal with it or just leave him behind. “ I think Charles already mentioned you once. You compete in skiing, right? ” His question left me stunned for just a second, his interest surprising from someone who didn't exactly plan on meeting new people tonight.

“ Yeah. Some might call me a professional adrenaline junkie though. ” I was relaxed enough to let out a chuckle at my own joke and he seemed to be on board, a smile taking over his face.

“ Think I might know a thing or two about how that feels. ” He added with a huff of air, making me finally remember where I have seen him before. His face finally connected to a few pictures I have seen of Charles and him, as well as his name was in almost every story I have heard from the other F1 driver from our few meetings.

I suspected his interest would quite soon fade as the night went on but he seemed to be an active partner, both of us falling into an easy conversation about our sports and the lives we were in a way subjected to outside of it. It was evident he was subjected to the downsides of fame as F1 took up an ever growing part of the entertainment business but he didn’t seem to be affected by it as much as I had imagined at first. It was captivating how he talked about racing and driving those cars, making me actually excited to maybe watch some races in the upcoming season. It wasn’t something I never did, as I already watched some of the races, but it was never something I paid much attention to, mostly just turning it on as background noise. It took us a moment to finally connect the dots, but once he mentioned the team he was driving for I couldn’t hold back my smile as I mentioned I just got sponsored by Red Bull at the start of my season. It was a coincidence we had a good laugh about, confused how we haven’t heard more about each other before tonight.

“ You should come out to a race if you have time. It’s a lot better in person. ” He offered with a little smile and I was about to respond when Julien chose the exact moment to finally remember they weren’t alone and started talking to me.

“ You know, you should be up there. ” He bumped my shoulder with his, making me look up and realise they were just talking about my category. Someone who didn’t know him would have thought it was sweet of him, but I just knew he wasn’t finished. “ Maybe if you would have actually pushed yourself, you know. ” He added, with a smirk on his face as my smile faded.

“ Says someone, who still didn’t get any awards either. ” I bit back at him, trying to hide how uncomfortable it made me feel that he’s doing this in front of other people. My head started to boil although I got myself together in seconds.

„ Well, the male categories are a lot harder. But getting into yours should be effortless. ” He shrugged, making my jaw visibly drop, as I couldn’t believe that my own blood would make a comment like this. I saw the surprise on Charles' face too, but he didn’t dare speak up and I just wanted to get out of this conversation before I would regret my next action. I only saw him act like this when he was tipsy, but even his champagne glass was sitting more than half full in front of him.

„ Talk to me if you come to your senses. ” I told him, standing up and leaving the table as soon as I could, choosing to sit at the bar alone rather than stay next to him. “ Calm evening my ass. ” I muttered as his words from before we left the hotel immediately came back to me.

Drinking wasn’t exactly on my list of activities tonight, as I liked to keep it light during the season, but I rather ordered a light cocktail just to give the bartender something else to do than stand and stare after hearing our exchanged words just seconds ago. With him walking to the other side of the bar to prepare the colourful drink I could finally let out the breath stuck in my lungs, holding myself back from turning on the bar chair. I knew Julien would be content enough to stay put and leave me be, inside feeling like he once again won an argument. It was easier to deal with emotions without each other. Sometimes I really didn’t know what I was waiting for when I knew quite well how he can be, and how much he doesn’t know the limits that shouldn’t be touched. These moments made me understand why I moved away from and why I wasn’t on the same team as him anymore.

“ You okay? ” Pierre wasn’t trying to sneak up on me, but still managed, my heart jumping when he appeared next to me, already occupying another chair.

“ Yeah, just the usual. I’ll just leave him to it. You can’t be next to him when he’s in that mindset. ” I swirled my drink as soon as it was placed in front of me, looking at how it went around the wall of the glass. “ Or at least I can’t. ” I huffed out, putting the glass down before I would accidentally break it.

„ He will probably realise what he said was wrong. ” Pierre sent a calming smile towards me, making me smile too although it still felt sour inside. With a little nod, I tried changing the topic back to where we left off, hoping it would make me forget the last two minutes of my life.

It actually helped, talking to him calmed me down and just minutes later I felt like nothing bad happened today, and everything was perfect since I woke up. Pierre did have this effect, probably on every person on this Earth and also on me, that you just focused on talking to him and forgot where you were and what happened before you started the conversation with him. We went over how I started ski jumping and my journey until now, but we also touched on his career and what he did since he started. I never knew people who were racing cars as a job, so it was the first time for me to learn about how their lives actually look like. It wasn’t at all as glamorous as one would think in quite a few aspects. The event was slowly approaching its end when I started feeling how tired I actually was. The only thing I was dreading was me having to travel back to the hotel in the same car as Julien. I really wasn’t looking forward to it.

“ Think I’m gonna run before it really ends. I don’t really care about sitting in the same car as him. ” I sighed, not even naming Julien as I knew he would know who I’m talking about. “ A nice walk to clear my head further. ” I sighed once I realised we came here in the same car and it would be contracted to take both of us, subjecting me to either walk to the hotel as a cab won't even be worth it.

“ I can take you back. I don’t mind leaving a little early and Charles has his own car here, so he won’t mind me leaving either. ” Pierre stood up after me, making me look up at him. I didn’t really react to him at first and I could see in his eyes that he was about to take back his offer, thinking he did bad.

„ I wouldn’t say no to that. ” I smiled at him gladly, taking my purse from the bar so we could go. “ Only if you truly don’t mind driving me and then getting yourself home. ” I added as I really didn’t want to be a burden on him.

“ I’m a driver, it won’t strain me. ” He let out a laugh, making me join in as we walked outside. It was a lot colder and even windier than when we arrived here. “ Oh, my jacket… ” I looked back as soon as it hit me that I left it inside. I was just about to go back, even though I hated the thought of having to talk to Julien as I had to take it from next to him, when my shoulders got covered with comfortable warmth and looking back forward I saw as Pierre let go of his own coat that was now on me.

“ Stay here, I’m gonna get my car and pick you up from here. ” He said before I could even react to him giving me his jacket, and the only thing I could do was wait while I watched him walk away, towards the parking lot. My surprise would have been evident for any onlooker, as I stood there clutching his jacket around myself and thinking about what was actually happening.

It wasn’t even five minutes later when he parked down in front of me and I got into the sportscar. I wasn’t really surprised that he had one but still, it took me off guard for a second before I shook myself out of it. He was a smooth driver, I didn’t have any problems with his style and he did get me to the hotel in one piece. I was actually sad when it was time for me to get out and say goodbye to him, but I really hoped we would meet sometime again, but couldn’t muster up the courage to ask for his number or offer mine to him. I would have gladly had a chat with him once in a while about anything though. He was a perfect conversation partner, next to whom you can easily mention anything without fearing his response.