#doesn’t even seem to iron his clothes lmao

[womb-complex]

I wonder if I should draw him with glasses and a nice suit

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 8: Dottore & Pantalone x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4652

Warnings: Afab!reader, cat girl reader, body horror elements, mentions of genetic modification & surgery, pet play, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, fucking machine

A/N: As always anything I write for the Harbinger's tends to skew towards the dark so be mindful of the tags, everyone! Also this is why I need them to hurry up and release more content that features Pantalone, I could not find a pic where these two were photoshopped together lmao

⭐

Sometimes Dottore finds himself wondering why he even bothered creating you in the first place. 

It’s certainly not so he can watch you shamelessly rub up against Pantalone’s legs in a supplicating gesture for attention — the exact same attention you regularly eschewed when it was coming from him — nor was it so he could continuously find tufts of your fur caught on all of his clothes. Even the ones he’d never worn around you were mysteriously inundated with the clinging hairs, which was particularly remarkable given how little fur you actually had on your body. 

Pondering this conundrum, he doesn’t immediately notice that Pantalone is speaking again until something he says jolts the doctor out of his thoughts. 

“What did you just say?” 

The bespectacled man sitting across from him on the spacious sofa in Dottore’s office tips his head in a curious manner, although the arguably polite smile on his face never so much as falters. “Hm? I was just commenting on how friendly your pet has recently become. I seem to recall her being quite skittish not all that long ago.” 

Humming a curt sound of acknowledgment, Dottore shoots you a quick look. 

You peer right back at him from your spot curled up on the floor at Pantalone’s feet, your cheek pressed into the carefully ironed line of his dark pant leg. Something about the way you meet his gaze despite the barrier of his hook beaked mask standing in the way speaks of an audacity that almost manages to irritate him. It was the sort of gall only a cat could embody, either by nature or through an inflated sense of superiority that was rarely ever warranted. 

But if he’d wanted a pet that would cower and look at him with blind obedience rather than silent, judgmental contempt then he should have used a dog to genetically modify you into existence instead. 

What’s done was already done though, so there wasn’t any point in lingering on it unnecessarily. Lifting his attention, Dottore looks over at his fellow Harbinger again. “I can see that. But what did you say afterward? I’m afraid I didn’t quite catch it, or perhaps my ears are simply playing tricks on me.” 

“Ah, that.” Relenting with a soft chuckle, Pantalone reaches down to idly pet over your head. The faint vibration of a purr rises up as you tip into the indulgent motion, ears twitching eagerly in demand of more scritches. “I just made a joke that perhaps it was getting to be that time of year for her. I’m never quite sure what any of your miraculous experiments are capable of though, so perhaps that doesn’t apply here?” 

Lifting a thoughtful hand to his chin, Dottore turns that over for all of half a second. “No, there's every possibility that she’ll still be susceptible to the same biological cues as her feline counterparts. I didn’t omit any of the genetic hard coding for that when I spliced her together but I also didn’t go out of my way to include it either. It’s hard to say for sure right this moment but …” 

He sends you another considering glance but this time you’re much too distracted by Pantalone’s hand and the way it’s rubbing at the spot just behind your conically pointed ears to notice him looking you over. By his estimate you were very close to being evenly split between the two halves, which was just as he’d wanted it. Neither a simple girl who could bore him to death with an endless stream of prattling nor a true cat that would easily expire under his care. In truth he’d initially wanted to use you as a personal assistant after spending a few dozen decades with only his own clones for company. 

Unfortunately you’d proven to be just a bit too simple for him to trust with sharp pointy objects and he’d had to give up on the idea quickly enough. He still recognized that you weren’t completely without worth though, medical marvel that you were, and looking at you now … he’d take a guess that there was about a fifty-fifty chance you’d inherited a cat's natural mating drive and all that came with it. 

The thought intrigues him a great deal more than he would have expected it to. Certainly this was a rather foolish endeavor to undertake when he compared it to all of the other projects and experiments he wanted to dabble in, but for an afternoon dalliance this didn’t sound too terribly lackluster. 

Allowing his mouth to curl into a brief smile, Dottore lifts his attention to fix back on Pantalone again. “What a fascinating idea, Regrator. Are you quite certain you have no interest in science?” 

Pantalone tips his head again, but in a rather quizzical manner this time. “Ah? I’m afraid I can’t claim to have the same aptitude for such pursuits as you do, Doctor. I’m sure I’d be nothing but a hindrance in your search for answers.” 

“Oh, that’s just not true at all. Almost anyone can fill the role of assistant, at least, and I see a wealth of untapped potential in you on top of that. You’re of a sharp mind to match that sharp tongue of yours.”

“You flatter me greatly, Doctor.” 

Eager and grinning, Dottore shifts to the edge of his high backed chair and leans forward to brace his forearms across his knees, bringing the hands together in a loose clasp. 

“You.” He intones, earning a languid glance from you, though it’s obvious you were still far more interested in his colleague than in him. No matter though. He would correct that soon enough. “Come over here kitten, and I suggest you do not dawdle.” 

For a moment it looks like you’re simply going to ignore him in the proficient way cats do where they give no sign at all of having heard their masters bidding and simply go about their business as usual. Luckily for you, however, the human part of your brain has enough reasoning and cognitive abilities to understand the imperative nature of an order, and you reluctantly push away from Pantalone to get on your hands and knees. 

Deliberately slow, you crawl closer to him across the floor with a wary look on your face and your long tail flickering stiffly behind you to indicate your displeasure at having been summoned away from the banker. Such an obvious display of clear disrespect would have been enough for just about anyone else to win themselves a rather unfortunate end at his hands, but Dottore was well acquainted with the physiological behaviors of felines. The fact you were coming to him at all was a small testament to his unmatched abilities as a scientist. 

Of course he would’ve liked you to be a bit more intelligent but, he supposed, that was his own fault for choosing a cat rather than something more inclined towards cleverness. A raven, perhaps, would have been the better choice. As long as he issued orders that were short and to the point you understood him well enough though, and he feels a sharp smile pulling at his mouth now as you come to kneel before him. 

Reaching out, Dottore places a gloved palm on top of your head, flattening your ears before dragging it down across your neck and back. The way you shirk and dramatically hunch your spine inward under the pressure assures him you don’t like the rough handling very much — but then he reaches the base of your tail and you promptly tip forward to jut your ass up in the air, nudging against his hand. From his elevated position over you he can see your claws coming out to prick into the rug and pull at the woven fibers but he allows it for the time being. It was a promising sign, at least. 

“Does that feel good, my little experiment? You look like you’re enjoying being rubbed here.” 

You issue a low, vibrating sound that human vocal cords probably shouldn’t be able to make, tail arching up and over in plain invitation. He hadn’t ever thought to toy with you in this manner before, but after seeing how receptive you were to this sort of touch he was very tempted to make it a regular part of your role here. You weren’t doing much of anything else except getting fur on all of his clothes, after all. 

“That is quite interesting, isn’t it?” Pantalone murmurs, leaning forward as well to get a better look at the scene playing out before him. “Aside from the paws she looks so human. I wouldn’t have expected to see this kind of reaction from her.” 

“I don’t think it’s too surprising. The base of the tail has a veritable smorgasbord of receptive nerve endings which naturally feeds into the nervous system of the surrounding areas. The lower half of her spine is likely a sensitive hotspot as well, and of course that includes the genitals too by proxy. By the way, did you know,” Keeping his tone light and conversational, Dottore drags his hand lower past your twitching tail to idly rub his fingers along the center seam of the bloomers he was nice enough to let you wear. “Even humans had a tail at one time and we still carry the vestigial leftover to this day in the form of a dormant tailbone, so the anatomy was already there. I just filled in the blanks on her genetic genome to … encourage the development of this specific appendage a little bit.” 

And it had been a resounding success. 

Sadly the same could not be said for your feet. The human leg simply was not built the same way as a cats, and the backwards curve of your hind paws did not lend itself well to upright locomotion. You preferred to crawl as a result, occasionally going up on all fours to move quickly, but this too seemed to give you some amount of discomfort when the joint mobility simply wasn’t there. If he’d deemed you to be well equipped for working as his assistant he would have gone through the trouble of performing surgery to try and fix the mistake in your physical deformity but it hadn’t seemed necessary after he’d realized how dull you actually were. 

Besides that, it also made it that much easier to keep track of where you were at any given time when you could neither flee nor navigate anything more arduous than a flat surface without causing a great commotion. You couldn’t even successfully manage any of the doorknobs in his wing of the palace when the paws where human hands should have been were completely bereft of opposable thumbs. This meant you were effectively trapped without him having to do much of anything to ensure you couldn’t escape, and sometimes he found himself half convinced that this was the only reason he hadn’t disposed of you much earlier. 

Dottore was rather glad for his own generosity on the matter though while he pets over your cunt through the thin layer of cotton to make you enthusiastically squirm at his feet. There isn’t an ounce of shame in the way you arch your back to better present yourself to him and neither did you seem all that concerned about the audience you had watching the flagrant animal display. And Pantalone, for his part in this as little more than a bystander, seemed rather fascinated with observing the curious scene. 

That was why the two of them got on so well with one another. Even if he didn’t have any particular talents for scientific pursuit, the banker still recognized ingenuity and progress when he saw it. 

And as he peers down at you, observing the hopeful shake of your hips when you rear back on his hand, Dottore comes to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to test the hypothesis forming in the back of his mind. He could guess at how the genetic marriage between human and cat would affect you on a physical level, but testing it first hand was always his preferred method. 

Of course he doesn’t give you any warning before he does it, simply removing his gloved fingers from between your legs, and you immediately noise a displeased sound into the room. Your claws come out in earnest now to tug fitfully at the rug even as you crane your head around to glance up at him. The expression on your face seemed to suggest you were very offended that he would take away your source of pleasure, and he grins at the sharp flick of your agitated tail. 

“Oooh, don’t be upset. I’ll give you more of what you want as soon as you properly ask me for it.” 

Rumbling a brief sound of annoyance, you insistently nudge your ass at him but Dottore momentarily stays his hand, deciding to merely watch what you’ll do instead. 

And you don’t disappoint, your impatience showing in the way your ears twitch back against your skull as you push your upper body up from the floor. Just sitting there for a moment, you seem to think it over before the temptation proves too great and you lean heavily into his leg to rub your body against him in a coaxing manner. Now it was Dottore who you were all but plastering yourself to, and he can’t help the laugh that rises in his chest. 

“I’d almost say my feelings were hurt.” Pantalone murmurs, though the ever present note of vague amusement in his voice remains. 

“Yes, she’s certainly easy to win over, isn’t she?” 

Not even trying to hide his satisfaction, Dottore allows his mouth to pull into a sharp toothed smile as he reaches back down again. You give a placating little mewl when you realize his hand is coming near but he just nudges your hip off him with an indelicate push so he can grab at the band of your bloomers. With one good tug, he has them rolled down over your ass to pool in the bends of your knees, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air. 

A faint shudder works down your spine, tail flickering somehow more aggressively than before, but even now there isn’t so much as a hint of reticence in your body language. Had you been nothing more than a frail, stupid girl, he was sure you would have been wailing at him to stop while you tried to cover yourself. And if you were just a regular cat, well … he wouldn’t have had any such interest in your biological behaviors to begin with were that the case. 

But you were a unique specimen and a highly interesting one at that, even if the end result of your creation hadn’t quite met his expectations. So he finds himself almost bordering on giddy eagerness when he directs his hand between your legs again where he softly pets over the fleshy crease of your body. The purring immediately starts up again, verbalizing your pleasure for him as you slowly start to press your chest down to the floor in another supplicating arch.  

“I’d wager that must feel rather nice, doesn’t it? And to think you usually want nothing to do with me. Such a pity.” 

Gradually, Dottore increases the pressure of his gloved fingers until he can feel the meaty seam starting to squish and spread under his ministrations. The direct contact against your clit makes you shudder fiercely in response, mewling a heated sound into the carpet when you press your face into it. And your tail just keeps flicking back and forth in its upright position while he caresses over you, clearly pleased with his cooperation but still impatient for the building tension in your body to reach its tipping point. 

But he doesn’t want to give you that satisfaction just yet so he pulls his hand away when your breathing starts to deepen, indicating that you were getting close. Once again you mewl an unhappy sound and shake your ass demandingly at him to no avail. He merely brings his hands together between his knees and watches you fitfully squirm on the floor, enjoying the shameless display far more than he expected to. 

“I’m certain you can do a better job of asking for it than that. How about you try again?” Dottore coos at you, earning himself a brief chuckle from his colleague. 

“You’re a cruel one, Doctor. It’s not nice to tease her like that, is it?” 

“I’m sure she’ll get over it.” 

Chittering a poor little sound, you stiffly push up onto your hands and knees again and try rubbing against his leg much like the first time. When that doesn’t work though you become all the more antsy, twisting your bloomers up around your legs when you start to pace back and forth, yet you don’t stop long enough to kick them off. Evidently you were much too focused on the current state of your cunt to give it much thought, and Dottore intently watches when you finally shift towards Pantalone as if suddenly remembering he was there at all. 

It’s obvious that you’re thinking about it, toying with the notion of seeking out his assistance instead and weighing the odds. He would have easily guessed you’d try your luck with the banker since you seemed to like him more anyway. To his mild pang of surprise though you decide to beseech your master once more, turning to point your cunt at him before jutting your ass up in a clear offering. 

The tender plush of your body inspires a slow twitch of his cock, his lower stomach curling in anticipation of sinking himself into that tight little clutch between your thighs. That was, perhaps, an activity for later, if he found you to be worth the effort that it would entail, and preferably not when Pantalone was watching with that eternally placid smile on his face. 

“Well, that’s better I suppose.” 

Reaching out for you again, Dottore takes just a moment to savoringly nudge at your clit with his thumb to make you purr in appreciation. Then he moves his hand higher, easily locating your entrance at the epicenter of all the sticky slick coming out of you where he somewhat rudely bullies a long finger into your pussy. You noise a startled sound of pleasure in response but rather than trying to escape from the sudden penetration you stiffly push back on it. 

Mewling rather excitedly now, you swivel your hips to grind yourself on the intrusion. Even through his glove he can feel your walls enthusiastically squeezing him, trying to suck him in deeper despite his knuckle pressing flush to your labia with nowhere else to go. 

“Insatiable thing.” 

“Do you suppose she’s really gone into heat then?” Pantalone queries across from him, prompting Dottore to hum in thought. 

“I’ll have to examine her hormone levels later to know for certain, but given how very hot she’s internally running I wouldn’t be surprised.” He can feel that through the barrier of leather as well, your body temperature so high it seems to him that you’re burning up. 

The stretch to your inner sleeve clearly comes as a great relief even for as slight as it is though, so he kindly squeezes a second finger in with the first to put more pressure on your puffed up, gummy walls. You outright keen at the addition as you fuck yourself back on his hand, pussy softly clicking in time with the restless motion. 

But it’s not near enough to fully ease the ache deep within you and whatever reprieve his fingers had provided quickly appears to wear off. You get antsy and fidgety again, impatiently trying to take Dottore’s fingers harder, faster to no avail. Whining a low sound of growing distress, you finally dig your back paws into the rug and push up to brace in a true mounting position that begged for him to oblige and fuck you sensless. 

“Goodness,” Pantalone murmurs, his usual brand of faux, crooning concern heavy in his voice. “I almost find myself pitying the poor thing. Isn’t there something you can do for her, Doctor?” 

He turns that over for a brief moment while he idly thrusts his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt, twisting his wrist to ensure he would hit the sensitive nerve cluster on the other side of your upper wall. You clearly appreciate it, given how loudly you keen in obvious pleasure, but it still wasn’t enough. 

“Hm. I think I might have something for her but I’ll have to go fetch it. Keep an eye on her for a moment, won’t you?” 

Pantalone’s head comes up at the same time yours does, but for two completely different reasons. While it was clear his fellow Harbinger was just surprised at what he’d said, you were dismayed by the sudden loss of his fingers when he withdraws them with a sticky wet slurp. And you don’t even make an attempt to hide it as you pathetically whine and meow at him as he moves to stand up, completely ignoring you now in favor of wiping his glove off on a handkerchief procured from his coat pocket. 

“It will only take me but a moment. Entertain her however you see fit.” He intones before turning on his heel to step out of the office without giving either of you a chance to question or otherwise pester him any further about it. 

A quick stroll down the corridor to his lab plus a few minutes spent locating the specific machine he wanted is all it takes for him to have what he needs. He’s rather pleased at his own genius to have thought of something like this and on such short notice too, and he was eager to get back to test it. In fact, he almost catches himself humming a light tune along the way. 

And he’s not at all surprised to find you curled up in Pantalone’s lap when he returns with the adjustable piston tucked in the bend of his arm. He had a few guesses at how you’d managed to weasel your way into that position, particularly when you peer over at him like a disparaged orphan who’s had to seek out the comfort of strangers on the streets. How very typical of a cat, he decides as the banker glances up from where he’d been softly petting over your cunt in his stead. 

“And what is this curious device?” He ventures with an accompanying quirk of his brow. 

“This is nothing more than a simple piston. Not very exciting on its own, I’m afraid, and if I had the time right now I’m sure I could make a much better attachment for it. But something tells me our little kitty here won’t be too picky about what ultimately gives her what she wants.” 

Practically leering under his mask, Dottore moves to set up the machine on the floor between his chair and the sofa. The long metal base is sufficiently heavy to act as a counterweight for the moving rod so he doesn’t need to worry about it unbalancing while he makes quick work of simply adjusting the angle. From his peripheral he can see you warily watching him the whole time from the safety of Pantalone’s lap but when he calls for you to come over you slide down to the floor without a fuss. 

It was remarkable how quickly you’d warmed up to him after just having your pussy fingered a little bit and he makes a mental note of that as you shuffle over to inspect the device. 

“Turn around.” He commands, gesturing what he wants you to do with his hand. 

Giving an agitated flick of your tail, you comply with this too, further solidifying his suspicions that you were indeed quite easy to manipulate when needed. It was hard to say if you truly understood what was about to happen but the wet cunt you bare at him assures Dottore you wouldn’t have any complaints about it. And he can’t help but notice that Pantalone must have removed your bloomers for you while he was gone as they were now nowhere in sight. Good. 

Bending at the waist, he takes hold of your hips to pull you back and position the center of your body directly in front of the waiting, smooth ended bar. He would have liked to use something that was better suited for you but it was the best he could do on such short notice. And you rumble a low sound of warning at his manhandling, flicking a sharp look at him over your shoulder which he mollifies with a saccharine, condescending coo. 

“There, there. This should have you sorted out in no time. You’ll probably be pestering me to bring it out for you again if my hunch is correct.” 

Keeping you in place with one hand, he reaches down with the other to guide the bar to your entrance. You give a startled jolt at the touch of cool metal, a new tension running through your shuddering frame, but it quickly shifts towards deep felt relief when he nudges you back to take it inside. Watching your pussy slowly stretch and open up around the foreign object fills him with a particular sort of satisfaction that makes his cock eagerly stir again. It had been a very long time since he last felt so compelled by the human body. 

Well, in this case it was human-cat, wasn’t it? 

“Oh my.” Pantalone softly breathes out, intently watching the same thing with a great deal of plain faced interest. 

Dottore chuckles a heady sound under his breath while he reaches down to hit the button on the side of the machine that makes it whir to life. With a faintly groaning chug, the piston slowly starts to move in a sluggish thrust but it immediately seems to have your attention for as slight as it is. 

Your impatient wriggling promptly stops, tail curiously flicking up while you simply kneel there through the first full motion of the pump action. Gradually the bar slides deeper into you until it reaches the end of its allotted length before withdrawing with a viscous sheen of arousal coating it now. Evidently pleased with the sensation, you shift slightly on the floor to better accept the next push of the machine and Dottore outright laughs at the appreciative purr that quickly starts up. 

“Looks like I was right. You don’t care what it is as long as it’s stuffing you full, eh? Such a shameless beast I have on my hands.” 

“It’s not entirely without its charm.” Pantalone chimes in. 

“No,” He agrees, reaching back down to turn the knob that controls the speed. “It’s not.” 

All but preening in self satisfaction, Dottore straightens up and walks over to his chair where he sits down to watch the show. The machine groans a little louder with the speed increase, rumbling softly on the floor as it works your pussy over on an endless, tireless effort that has you hungrily mewling into the air. 

It may not have been what he’d created you for but it was certainly entertaining in its own right. And although he was sure to grow bored with it eventually, because he always did, for the time being at least he was quite content to listen to your messy cunt greedily suck at the piston with each and every steady thrust it takes into your body. 

Perhaps when the time came and he no longer had any use for you, he’d give you to Pantalone as a gift.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[rrxnjun]

potential • z. chenle

pairing. zhong chenle x fem! reader genre. rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive. word count. 20k (20.079) warnings. alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual activity, sexual innuendos, a heavy make out session or two, use of lyrics from ariana grande and sarah close and masking them as my own words a/n. why do we call it a rich kid chenle au when he's a rich kid irl. anyways for the fact that this was one of the most spontaneous fics ive ever written it sure did take a lot of time to execute. took a lot of inspo for the lifestyle from the sky castle kdrama so if its not accurate dont @ me bc ive never been rich LMAO

playlist. in my head – ariana grande ; successful – ariana grande ; nonsense – sabrina carpenter ; supermodel – måneskin ; that's what i like – bruno mars

You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

August 28, 2020 – somewhere in the Bali sea, 1:27 AM

The music is loud. The weather is humid.

Wrapping up the summer before your senior year, dancing around in the bar of the cruise ship in the middle of the ocean, one last stop before your 28-day cruise around Southeast Asia is over, the loud music from the bar rings in your ears as you dance around, a glass of expensive Mendis coconut Brandy swirling in your hold. The taste of the alcohol on your tongue burns, not quite used to the burning sensation in your mouth– this is one of the first times you’re drinking, since your parents were always big on prestige and acting classy. Your parents went to sleep, though– excited to explore Benoa tomorrow, to immerse themselves in nature and explore Bali’s temples and heritage. You, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to party– accompanied by none other than your parents’ friend’s son, who grew into the position of your childhood best friend solely because his and your family have always been close, choosing to spend vacations together; a relationship that was mostly fueled by the immediate closeness of you two during the summer breaks and ski trips to Swiss Alps every January.

And while you’re no stranger to pearls, charity events in your parents’ mansion in Hong Kong, golf courses in Miami and fashion shows in Milan, growing up in the world of designer bags and prestigious titles, you feel quite stranded in the middle of the sweaty teenagers, all of them with the same social status as you, drinking expensive alcohol and swinging your hips to the EDM music playing through the speakers. It almost feels like this is the first time you’re able to enjoy yourself without anyone’s supervision, screaming at the top of your lungs into Zhong Chenle’s face as he laughs at you on the dance floor, and truth be told, you could care less about the pictures you’re going to take for your Instagram tomorrow, showing everyone just how good you’re doing and how much fun you’re having on your lengthy cruises around the continent, because somehow, even though the bar is clothed in gold and you feel a bit like in The great Gatsby, this feels like the least pressuring part of the whole trip.

“We should go to parties more often!” you scream into Chenle’s ear, taking a sip of your Brandy as you twirl yourself around him, the straps of your sparkly spaghetti-strap tiny top falling off your shoulders in a moment of carelessness, your thoughts somewhere completely else. You may be 19 years old and insanely wealthy, but that still doesn’t mean you are experienced in the art of partying– quite the opposite, actually, having to always seem cultivated and presenting yourself in a way that would suggest that your family is high on prestige and recognition– so to finally be surrounded by people your age, dancing along to the music and jumping up as you all chant the lyrics to Barbie girl by Aqua (how ironic) feels quite ecstatic.

“Like our parents would let us,” Chenle rolls his eyes, lips almost pressed against the shell of your ear as he makes sure to get close enough for you to hear him.

Sighing at his argument– knowing he’s absolutely right, but also hating the fact that he had to ruin your mood by stating it out loud– you shake your head as you down the last bits of your drink, putting the heavy glass onto the tray of a waiter that’s passing by to gather the rest of the empty ones scattered across the shiny tables in the corner of the room. Your brain is starting to get a little fuzzy and you can’t help the giggling escaping out of your throat whenever your eyes meet Chenle’s, the flush on the boy’s cheeks hinting at the fact that he’s not any better at handling his alcohol than you, having just as much experience in heavy drinking and partying as you do. 

You’re only 19 years old and you don’t know a lot about the world. After all, you were brought up in a family that always did everything for you– you never had to move a single finger. You never even had to clean your room, because your parents had people that would come by every morning while you were in school, just so you could arrive home to a tidy place when you were done with your lectures. You went to a private school, so you were always surrounded by people with a status similar to yours. You spoke about your tutoring classes that cost more than groceries for a middle-class family a week, you talked about your trips abroad, and if you had time, you even went shopping with your classmates after school before your driver picked you up and drove you back into the suburbs; your neighborhood guarded by a gate, the asphalt behind it so much smoother than it is in the rest of the town.

You never got to experience partying like this– only gaping with an open mouth when you saw those scenes in the movies you watched on Netflix in your own private movie room. And if you’re being totally honest, you never imagined enjoying such a thing. You never had the experience, so you didn’t really yearn for it, but now that you’re here, surrounded by loud music, experiencing the weird emotional feeling that comes with being in a crowd screaming in joy at the same time first-hand on your own skin, you don’t think you’ll be able to go back to how you were before.

This is not how rich kids party. At least not when their parents are around.

“You’re gonna be hungover tomorrow morning,” Chenle mutters into your ear when your eyes light up at the sight of more alcohol, contemplating on getting another drink, just because. 

“And you’re not?” you tease him, pointing to his glossy eyes and lazy walk, his legs tangling with each other every few seconds from the haze he’s been put in just by having a few drinks. The sight is quite funny– the ever-so composed millionaire son is now a troubled mess in your eyes; one wrong step and he could ruin the image his family has spent years to build up, but it doesn’t seem like either of you care, tripping over your feet and lounging at each other in the middle of the dance floor. 

Feeling like you’re playing a dangerous game, hanging off his neck and swaying your hips to the rhythmic beat, you gape into his blown-out eyes and desperately try to get your brain straight. The more you drank and the more you spent time in Chenle’s close proximity, the less you were able to control your emotions and the weird thoughts in your brain that have been slowly eating up all your notions for quite some time now. Gaping at his plump lips and feeling his palms burning at your hips, his fingers ever-so-slightly hovering above the curve of your ass, you’re finding it hard to concentrate on the music or on the words spilling off his tongue, his voice never shutting up even in the loud bar. You always told him he talks too much, but he doesn’t seem to mind– he seems to actually take much pride in his annoying tendencies, talking your ear off on multiple occasions even when you tell him he should probably stay quiet for at least a minute, so your brain could recharge.

Truth be told, you listen to him most of the time anyway. He always talks and you always listen, rolling your eyes at the snarky parts and giggling at the jokes; so the fact that you suddenly can’t focus and just desperately want him to shut the fuck up must be the effect of all the alcohol you’ve been drinking tonight. 

And your next step might as well be the main consequence of the coconut Brandy as well– because even though you’ve been dreaming of his plump lips on yours for quite some time now, you’ve never actually dared to act up on the desire. But your intention to make him go quiet seems to be working when the train of words stammering out of his mouth is cut off, a surprised noise trailing out of his throat when you kiss him on the dance floor; and to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to mind your weird sign of protest to his endless talking– quite the opposite, really, as he lets you take the lead and taste the mix of alcohol in the Long Island cocktails he’s been drinking the whole night off his tongue, your hands mindlessly trailing up to thread themselves into his hair. 

This is not your first time kissing a boy– you once pecked Song Eunseok on the lips when the two of you sneaked out of class one day in 9th grade– but you never once kissed anyone with such passion and desire before. You’re not sure where you got all the courage from and you’re also not sure where you learned all of this– but it must be working, with how heavily Chenle’s breathing when you finally let go of his lips and he rests his forehead against yours. In no time, he’s chasing you down again, drunk not only on the alcohol now as he tilts his head to get closer, one hand resting on the side of your neck, just a few inches below your jaw, keeping you in place. 

“You should learn how to shut up,” you mumble against his lips, breathing heavy as you break away from him again and open your eyes to meet your gaze with his. The music is still loud in your ears, but you swear you hear a static noise somewhere in your brain, a tingle in your fingertips making you feel like you’re about to have an out-of-body experience. Your drunken brain is not allowing you to ponder about your actions that much, not letting you think and contemplate the fact that you just made out with your childhood best friend on one of the most expensive cruise ships, drinking alcohol you weren’t supposed to spend so much money on, and maybe that’s a good thing– because there’s nothing stopping you in having the time of your life, no overthinking making you doubt your next steps and no feeling of shame or regret making the whole experience bitter as you dance pressed against your companion, letting him press short, yet daring kisses to your lips as time passes.

“I think I’m good,” he snickers, when the music suddenly cuts out, an announcer telling you that the bar closes at 2 AM and that this song is the last for the night.

Sighing in disappointment– because who even knows when the next time you’ll have this opportunity will come– you let Chenle lead you out of the bar, his hand glued around your exposed waist. Your walk is a little loop-sided and you two almost smash into the glass door (doesn’t matter that it’s automatic and it quite literally opened in front of your figures). Soon enough, you’re met with the golden interior of the cruise walls again, the design a little vintage, yet still luxurious, reminding you of the movie Titanic. Tripping over the doorsteps, hands getting caught on the red, velvety curtains hung around, you giggle at every word that comes out of Chenle’s mouth, bodies slowly, but surely getting closer and closer to your suite bedrooms. You’re quite sure your parents could hear you talking outside in the hall, but you choose to not ponder on what they would think of you if they saw you in this state too much, instead making yourself believe that they’re long asleep and won’t be woken up by your voices resonating through the quiet space. 

“So I guess this is where we say goodnight?” you mumble, hanging off Chenle’s neck. His breath smells of the vodka-tequila mix when he hovers over you, bodies off-balance pressed against the cold wall just outside of your bedroom. Flashing you a grin, face looking close to a cheshire cat, he nudges your nose with his, a quiet hum landing to your ear, not heard by anyone.

“Or we could stay up a little longer.”

Squirming under his touch, his lips softly, yet still a little uncoordinatedly landing on yours, you waste no time in unlocking the door to your room– even though you have a bit of trouble with finding the key in your small purse, even surprised you haven’t lost the bag somewhere in the middle of the night– letting your childhood friend in to your space at the suggestion, your clothed bodies falling to the soft cushions of the water bed. 

You’re only 19 and don’t know much about the world when you messily undress yourself under your friend’s eyes, blinded by the glints in his deep chocolate orbs when he looks at you from above and attacks your neck with kisses. And you usually don’t regret much, considering yourself a responsible individual, always rethinking everything and making sure it’s the right choice, but when you look back at this day now, you don’t really know if sleeping with Zhong Chenle on a cruise around Southeast Asia was the brightest idea of yours, considering the mental turmoil it’s gonna cause you on the way.

Well, at least you can say you lost your virginity somewhere in the middle of the Bali sea, and at least that’s something to boost your ego with, am I right…? 

July 12, 2007 – Tokyo DisneySea, 2:21 PM

If anyone asked you for your favorite childhood memory, you wouldn’t have a hard time picking one. Sure, one would think you have too many pleasant memories to choose from, so realistically, you should take more time to pick and weigh the value of each one, contemplating if the trip to Rome was a happier memory than the summer you spent in Los Angeles when you were 10, but you are 100%, completely in tune with the fact that if anyone ever asked you this very question, the words falling off their tongue with interest and enthusiasm, no judgment and no hidden intentions behind their question, you’d have an answer ready with a smile on your face.

You don’t hold much emotion to your past memories. You’ve been on more vacations than you can both count and remember growing up, and so even though you do think the pictures you took in Italy came out good and your skin glistens prettily in the warm sun, even though you do think you experienced a lot of fun while going to the Target for the first time with your nanny– the woman your mum hired just because your parents were too busy with their business meetings the whole time you walked the streets of Los Angeles with the new woman you were supposed to trust with your life at the ripe age of 10– you wouldn’t say any of those memories are as close to your heart as the trip you took to Japan with the Zhong family when you were 6, the summer before attending first grade.

This was the year you and Chenle watched the Pirates of the Caribbean together for the first time, and even though it wasn’t in the initial plan, you two spent hours and hours and hours  of the flight persuading your parents to take you to Tokyo Disneyland, because you heard from his cousin Yizhuo that you could meet Jack Sparrow if you went. While your plan didn’t exactly work and the two of you didn’t get to go to the large theme park– because your parents were busy, mostly traveling because of business and so they didn’t have the time to arrange it, the amount of sulking you two did when you arrived to the rented house in the expensive part of Tokyo to the teenager that was supposed to watch you two for the time being was enough for him to take you two on a short train ride to the twin of the famous theme park– the Tokyo DisneySea. 

The 15-minute train ride you three took to the theme park was your first, and also last time you ever rode such a mean of transport. All you were used to were expensive sports cars and limousines– you never imagined that people took such transport even every single day, at times. You and Chenle were so immersed in the journey that it was hard for your babysitter to get you out of the train, your small, excited bodies almost tripping over your own little feet as the raven-haired boy dragged you through the streets of Maihama station. 

You could see the towers of the park and you could smell the salt from the sea even from a distance. The whole atmosphere felt magical, giggles often erupting out of your throat as Yuta– the boy your parents hired to watch over you for the day– bought a bubble blower from one of the stands and blew out bubbles you two chased around and tried to pop before they got to the ground. There were no expensive cars in sight, no people dressed in suits and designer shoes– well, except from the two of you, but you couldn’t quite grasp the idea of how much your attire cost at that age yet– and you felt truly, insanely happy. The adults that always watched you when your parents went to business meetings were stern and serious, never letting you have much fun, but today was different, and you find yourself wondering why your parents even let you be babysat by a reckless teenager in the first place. He was 16 at the time– 10 years older than the both of you– and when you look back at the day now, you think it was the time pressure that brought your parents into hiring him. You bet they paid him a lot of money, hell, you bet they even lended him a credit card he could use to entertain you two for the whole afternoon, and even though you found him using it a few times, you didn’t think he spent just as much as all your previous babysitters did. 

Not that you knew the value of money back then, after all. Maybe the fact that you couldn’t tell how much money everything was worth back then is what truly made the whole day so carefree and happy for you.

You were children of wealthy Chinese business owners. You always had everything they saw in your eyes– you didn’t even have to say it out loud and it was held up to you on a silver platter. This day, though, you didn’t even have to use that much money– if you truly compare it to other vacations your families have been to– and you can’t help but think it’s ironic how despite this fact, this day is still your favorite childhood memory. 

The Tokyo DisneySea was catered to a more mature audience– even serving alcohol in the premises, a thing no other Disneyland does– but even though you were just 6 and couldn’t drink and there was no Jack Sparrow waiting for you in the streets of the theme park, you and Chenle had a blast. Maybe it was a good decision on Yuta’s part to take you to the DisneySea instead; it catered to your Pirates of the Caribbean needs perfectly despite it not being the initial theme. The ships and wooden coasts and harbors were enough for your imagination to create stories about pirates in your head, the three of you attending various rides and screaming at the top of your lungs together over the course of the afternoon.

“Wanna go to the Tower of Terror?” Yuta asked you, his toothy grin on full display as he dragged you two to the scary ride when you finally got to the American Waterfront. 

The teenager was wearing a black muscle top with L’arc en ciel written on it– you found out only a few years later that it was a japanese rock band– and with his long, black hair falling to his forehead, he looked just like the person that would enjoy scary rides and horror movies. You, however– you weren’t prepared to get scared by green ghosts and eerie music. Not at 6 years old anyways, although you doubt you’d do better on this day.

If there’s one thing you need to know about Zhong Chenle, it’s the fact that he’s a lover of horror. And Korean dramas. But mostly horror– a few years later, when you were both the age Nakamoto Yuta was when he brought you to the Tokyo DisneySea, your friend came to a Halloween party dressed like the clown from IT and managed to jump-scare you every moment he physically got. There was no surprise in the small boy liking the idea of attending the scary ride, and no matter how hard you tried and protested, there was no use in you saying no. Because the two of them wanted to go, and you, quoting Yuta, ‘couldn’t just stay alone outside’, so you were pretty much forced into the darkness of the Tower of Terror, your small body pressed against Chenle and Yuta’s– you refused to sit anywhere but sandwiched between the two in the middle of the cart– shutting your eyes close when the scary music started playing and you could feel the anxiety forming in the pit of your stomach.

You trembled the whole time, panic resting in your beating heart, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself clinging to Chenle’s small hand, squishing it so hard he screamed at you in the dim lightning of the ride. You didn’t let go, though– that’s what he gets for dragging you along– fracturing his bones wasn’t in your concerns, if it made you feel more secure and safe.

The fond memory of the day ends with the moment the scary ride is over and you finally get out of the darkness– with Yuta having to carry your out of terror half-paralyzed body from the cart. To this day, you still don’t have a clear outlook on why this day is your favorite childhood memory, but you think it might be the mix of Chenle’s excited laughter as he scared you every two seconds after the ride, the apologetic hug he enveloped you in after you almost burst to tears the third time, the taste of the sausage Yuta bought you two for dinner, the taxi ride to the rented house you had to take in a rush before your parents got back from their business meeting, and the melodic voice of your best friend when he sang you the opening theme to the Pirates of the Caribbean before you two fell asleep on the same bed in your hotel room.

Either way, despite the terror, you don’t think you’ve ever had this much fun ever again. 

When you peed the bed that night, your parents decided to never hire a teenager to look after the two of you again. From that moment alone, there was less horror, but also less fun.

May 5, 2019 – tennis courts in Jinqiao, Shanghai, 4:17 PM

One would think that growing up with Zhong Chenle would put him into a position of your almost-brother. And while you did agree with the statement on most days– like when he laughed so hard that snot came out of his nose and almost fell into your lunch plate when you were 15, or when he shot you with his paintball gun so hard you had a bruise on your knee for three weeks when you were 17– you think you’re starting to slowly outgrow this phase. 

Zhong Chenle is no longer a brotherly figure to you when you two pick up tennis at the ripe age of 18. 

It wasn’t either of your ideas, of course. Tennis is not a sport a teenager just suddenly picks up one day because they’re interested– at least not when you’re incredibly wealthy and can pretty much afford any other hobby in the entire world. No, it was the idea of Chenle’s mother– because, quoting, ‘the kids barely go out these days, they might as well pick up a sport!’ – and with the copycat tendencies of your dear mum, you were dragged along into it as well. And so now, during the finals season, on top of that, you two have to go play tennis on one of the private tennis courts your families rent for three hours a day every Friday afternoon instead of studying or focusing on getting your stress out of your body doing other, much more enjoyable things.

“You know, you look a little too excited for someone who hates playing tennis,” Renjun– the neighborhood kid (your parents being business partners for quite some time now made you and the short boy become friends somewhere along the way)– states, snickering as he lays on one of the benches on the side, his own tennis racket thrown carelessly on the ground as he watches the two of you running around the court, playing.

“I only do it because I’m bored,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sending the little yellow ball over the net with much force, making you run to the other side of the court. 

“And I only do it because I need to prove to him that he’s not the best at everything he tries,” you add, sending the ball back to your friend. 

“Just say you want to impress him and go,” Yizhuo– Chenle’s cousin from his mother’s side– teases you from the bench, sitting next to Renjun. Her remark doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you send the yellow ball her way after her cousin passes it towards your side of the court again, aiming precisely for her forehead but missing, earning yourself a terrified yelp out of the girl when she scootches closer to the boy next to her.

“That’s totally not what’s going on, but sure,” you roll your eyes at her when she throws the ball back, but you don’t feel interested in continuing the game anymore. Tiredly walking closer to the two sitting at the little shaded bench, wiping the sweat off your forehead, you try hard to not think of the snarky remark that was sent your way. 

Is it really that obvious? Because sure, you’ve always found Zhong Chenle to be your brother figure over the years of growing up– but there’s something about the humid air of the tennis court and his competitiveness that have you eyeing him when he takes a sip from his water bottle or when he adjusts the hairband sitting on his damp forehead. He wears shorts that reveal his calves very nicely, and when you play 2 on 2, you find yourself focusing less and less on the game– earning yourself a frustrated yell from Ning Yizhuo herself as she plays along your side– and more and more on the Gucci tennis shoes adorning his feet as you scan the boy up and down, his figure growing taller and taller each passing day captivating you in a sense you’ve never quite experienced before.

“I can’t believe my mum dragged you all into this shit,” Chenle giggles when he sits next to Renjun on the bench, following you to the shade. There’s only 20 minutes left in the time your parents rented the court for and you figure that you can spend that time recharging your energy instead of playing the boring game. 

“Not me,” Yizhuo says, “she made my mother feel bad about not signing me up for any sports. You know, your mum’s pretty persuasive, especially when it comes to looking good in front of everyone. If it wasn’t for my mum, I wouldn’t be doing this shit,” she complains, shrugging as she adjusts her ponytail that’s always sitting neatly on the crown of her head.

“I love the fact that Renjun here is the least athletic out of all of us, but he is the only one here willingly,” you snicker, earning yourself a chant of amused laughs at the spoken truth. Now, nobody forced Huang Renjun to come play tennis with you every Friday– but the fact that he doesn’t have many friends in the neighborhood was what made him come along, too bored on his own and with nothing to put his attention to. He doesn’t like playing much, but everything’s better than sitting alone at home, am I right?

The three of you gossip about everything and nothing– the new family in the neighborhood, especially, because Renjun saw their son last Sunday and found his outfit absolutely atrocious (“You’d think people with money would at least know how to dress well, but no. That’s not the case with that Wen Junhui guy.”). The time passes by quickly, and when the timer on Chenle’s phone goes off, signaling that the three mandatory hours at the tennis court are finally over, you all stand up and walk over to the gate, shoes dragging along the sandy surface of the ground with much tiredness. At least you’re getting some cardio in…

“Is your driver coming to pick you up?” Chenle asks as you pay goodbye to your friends, both of them getting into expensive cars waiting for them at the parking lot. Turning to him, you hum in agreement, suddenly shy under his gaze. It’s not even summer yet, but the May sun is already harsh on the skin, getting redness to spread along his cheeks, only further sculpting his handsome bone structure you’ve grown so familiar with over the years. 

“What about you?” 

“Told my mum I’ll walk home instead. It’s not like it’s only a 20 minute walk anyway,” he mutters, rolling his eyes at the irony of you having to drive home despite living only a few meters away from him, in the same wealthy neighborhood. You grew up together, in the same mowed lawns, in the same green labyrinths of your families’ villas, in the same high ceilings and golden accents on the interior of your houses. After watching him from the corner of your eye, you start to wonder about what changed between the two of you that made you so weak to him now, that you’re both 18. Did he change? Was it the fact that you were now both adults? You don’t think that’s the case– because even though you were 18, there were no more responsibilities waiting for you than they were the years before. 

“My driver can take you,” you say, kicking the rocks below your feet, “well, unless you want to walk home alone instead,” you add, noting his previous sentence.

You see him take a sip out of his water bottle, shrugging at your suggestion. Chenle’s not a fan of inefficiency, no matter the fact that you can afford anything you could ever want. It’s a quality of him you find quite strange some days, but you don’t ponder on it too much. 

You’ve known each other since you were in diapers. And after replaying all the memories you have with the boy in your head, you think that your 18 year old self isn’t so stupid for falling for him. See– you’ve got to know a lot of men over the course of your life. Many tried to get with you barely before you even grew into an adult, seeing the vision of money and the social status you could give them. Some, on the other hand, never gave you back the attention you were giving them. All relationships you had in your life were blinded by the imaginary price tag you always carried around with yourself, and so everything always stayed surface-level and plain. No wonder you fell for Chenle– no matter how long it took you to get to this part of your friendship– he’s the only one that ever showed you his true self, he’s the only one that ever trusted you enough to go deeper in conversations with you and treated you like a real human being. You know him well and he knows you well; he’s like a book you always find yourself rereading, excited to find that your favorite characters always stayed the same. At the end of the day, you think you were always meant to fall for Chenle.

Standing under the blazing sun, you wait for your driver to get to the tennis courts. You wait for 10 minutes, then 15– and when you get a little too overheated, Chenle offers you his water bottle and mumbles something about being on time. When the time passes 45 minutes after your driver’s supposed arrival, your friend turns to you with a glint in his eye, a grin sitting on his annoyingly handsome face.

“Wanna walk home with me instead?”

And the truth is, you don’t find yourself disagreeing. And you also don’t find yourself hating the walk up the hills of the neighborhood– no matter how tiring it was to your already exhausted limbs– and you don’t find yourself complaining about the lack of AC or the vehicle driving your ass home to your, admittedly, too big of a house. Chenle entertains you with his talks– because he always talks too much for his own good– and when you stop paying attention to him and lose track of where you’re going, he drags you back to the sidewalk by your hand and your fingers stay interlocked when he teases you about the fact that you almost got ran over by a white Cadillac. 

“Listen, there’s this song I think you’ll like,” he hums when you’re 5 minutes away from your house, pulling out his phone out of his back pocket and opening up the Spotify app. He plays you a song by Ariana Grande, singing along to the lyrics of the chorus. His voice goes thin when he tries to mimic the singer’s voice, dragging along the english sentences of ‘it feels so good to be this young and have this fun and be successful, i’m so successful!’, irony seeping from his tone. Your hands are still intertwined as he swings them back and forth and you don’t even really care about the subtle implication of the lyrics he’s singing– because it’s Chenle, and despite being just as wealthy as you, he’s no stranger to calling you a snob. 

When you’re 18 and walking back from your weekly tennis endeavors, you can’t help but feel the fluttering in your heart when your friend twirls you around in your driveway, your white tennis skirt childishly fulfilling your unsaid dreams of becoming a ballerina, before he walks to his house standing on the opposite side of the road. 

You don’t even care that your poor driver got fired by your mother right after she realized he forgot to pick you up from the tennis court as much.

October 17, 2020 – a charity evening, Shanghai, 9:11 PM

Your whole life so far has been guided in the aura of money. When you were little, you didn’t realize it as much– your young, undeveloped brain couldn’t phantom the fact that your annual trips to Italy and summer vacations at yachts and in the Paris DisneyLand weren’t a normal occurrence to everyone. You couldn’t understand the value of money, and you think that maybe, you never truly will. Because you were born fortunate, never having to worry about a single thing, always living in wealth and with gold around your neck. 

The closest you are to understanding just how much money your family truly has is at the charity evenings you are forced to attend. Walking around, mostly bored– because truly, you didn’t have much of an idea just how much money you’re sending to the unfortunate parts of Africa and what the whole thing even has to do with you, when the money wasn’t really yours in the first place– you try to at least look through the flier your family made for the event, reading through the carefully crafted sentences, feeling at least a little sorry for everyone that doesn’t get to live the way you do.

“Isn’t it funny how this is the only way our families can present themselves in a good light?” Chenle mumbles when he reads over your shoulder, a dry chuckle leaving his lips.

Turning around to look at your companion, you furrow your brows at his snarky comment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we give to charity so people don’t hate us as much,” Chenle shrugs, taking a sip from the champagne poured in a tall glass you’re pretty sure your mother spent hours and hours picking out when renting this place, just so everything could be perfect. 

“It’s just jealousy,” you say as you walk side-by-side with the boy, the expensive fabric of his white button-down hugging his body in all the right places, leaving you light-headed when you let yourself indulge in your thoughts for too long and stare at the curves of his forearms. It’s been a few months since you slept with your childhood friend– and while you must admit that you regretted it a little when you woke up in the morning, with a hangover and sore limbs, you also didn’t regret it as much as to turn the offer down when it was next brought to you. And the next time, and the next… 

“You think?” Chenle asks, and his interest in your answer seems genuine.

“Yeah,” you nod, shrugging to yourself, “we have more money than any of them ever will, so it’s only natural for people to feel jealous and talk spiteful things about us.”

Chenle hums at your answer, licking his lips before he looks you dead in the eye, the smallest glint of irony shining from behind the dark orbs, making you shrink under his gaze. “It’s not like it’s hard work anyway,” Chenle mutters, “if it wasn’t all stolen money, at least the charity work wouldn’t feel as fake.”

You stop in your tracks at the comment, furrowing your brows. “Stolen money?”

The boy next to you snickers at your clueless eyes. It’s no wonder you never really cared about the source of your family’s wealth– you were born to it, so you never had a reason to doubt it. And truth be told, you never really complained either. You don’t think anyone in your place would, really. You just accepted it the way it is, and you never asked any questions. For all you know, your parents are hard working business owners– you bet their money is well deserved for the amount of effort they put in– so to hear that it’s stolen money, from someone who is in a similar position as you, on top of that, you can’t believe your ears.

“I mean, they’re business owners. Let’s not act like both yours and my parents don’t meddle with the taxes at least a bit, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, “if I were all those people outside of it, I’d hate myself too.”

His words do little to comfort you. They do quite the opposite, really, and even though Zhong Chenle has no proof to show you of the fact that your parents might have at least a bit of dirty money on their hands, you can’t say you don’t trust a word that comes out of his mouth. You start to wonder if you’re that gullible– and who is the one lying straight to your eyes now, if it’s your friend or your parents– and you start to believe that you’d trust everything Chenle tells you, because that’s just the relationship you have with him. He could do anything and you’d follow him to the end of the world. It takes years to build that bond, and so even know, although you have the urge to scream at him for talking such things about the ones that brought you to this world– this perfect, shiny world– you find yourself holding back, the bubble around you bursting in a second, although you spent 19 years of your life living in the fake glory and bejeweled experience. Opening your mouth to ask him more about the matter– to get yourself out of the confusion you’ve been put in with just a few sentences uttered out of his always too-honest mouth, you turn to the boy when a man with a camera approaches the two of you, asking to take a picture of you.

And you comply, because what else are you supposed to do? This is how you’ve been raised. You smile for the pictures, you grin when you find yourself in the magazines, you nod when people recognise your name, you greet people with a polite nod, because you never know when someone wants to make business with your parents and you wouldn’t want to ruin good opportunities for them, would you?

With Chenle’s arm around your waist, your body instinctively leaning into his touch, you smile for yet another picture for the portfolio. Sometimes you feel like a princess– with everything it takes; both the royal responsibilities and the special treatment. More often than not, you find yourself enjoying the spotlight.

“Now they have proof that we were here,” Chenle mumbles into your ear, his lips gently brushing the smooth skin, “wanna get out of here? This party doesn’t look as enjoyable as the last one we went to,” the boy references the time you spent together at the cruise ship, with both the screaming on the dancefloor, and also the aftermath in your room, making heat puddle in your cheeks as you swat his hand away before it gets too low on your back in front of everyone in the room.

“I have to give a speech, but… maybe later?” you look at him, innocently batting your eyelashes at him, when the boy shrugs and takes a step back, downing the last drops of champagne from the expensive looking glass.

“I’ll be waiting back home,” Chenle says, “I bet our parents will stay until this all ends, so we have plenty of time for ourselves when you decide you’re tired of the gala.”

He disappears out of your sight the moment after, putting the empty glass onto a tray of one of the waiters carefully walking across the room, his back escaping out the front door. If you squint hard enough through the glass, you could see him getting into one of the sports cars he got from his parents for his 18th birthday– the vehicle driving off in the hands of his driver for the night, since he just had a glass of alcohol– and leaving you alone in the world of faux and feathers, fulfilling the responsibilities given to you by your mother. And for the first time– not only because you hate giving public speeches– you so desperately want to follow him, getting out before midnight like Cinderella, never attending another one of these evenings ever again. 

You don’t, though. You’re an obedient daughter.

And when you call him up from the entryway a few minutes after midnight, his rough hands welcoming you to his bedroom by undressing the thousand-dollar Tiffany dress you wore to the event– being the aftermath of his previous words or not, you start to think how ironic it is that your attire for the evening cost more than than the monthly rent of the people you were giving to in your speech. 

After a while, your words turn bitter.

March 23, 2020 – South Cape Owners Club, Namhae-gun, Gyeongsangnam-do, South Korea, 1:17 PM

“Did you really have to choose the most boring thing to do for your birthday?” Chenle mutters under his nose when all of your parents stride forward to get another hole in one, beads of sweat appearing on your foreheads as you stand directly under the midday sun. 

“This wasn’t my idea, okay?” Renjun huffs, carrying his golf equipment with him, the silly-looking golf gloves tugged right off his hands when his parents are no longer in sight. “All I wanted was to visit my grandma, but they decided we needed to do something special for my birthday, and when I couldn’t tell them anything I’d like to do, they dragged everyone to play golf.”

“I was thinking more like… clubbing and then crashing at your grandma’s place overnight, but okay…” Yizhuo snickers, watching as all of your parents joyfully talk between themselves, their conversation rarely leaving business matters as they play golf with as much enthusiasm as one can have while focusing on this boring sport. You don’t really know who made this game and why they made it– you can imagine seventy thousand different ways you’d love to spend your afternoon doing instead, more than a half of them supposedly more mundane than the sport itself; but you still know you’d enjoy even sitting down and getting ice cream better than having to pretend you’re interested in, what Chenle called, rich-people-only sport. 

“Maybe I can sneak a bottle up into my room later, but I’m not promising anything,” Renjun shrugs, sighing to himself as he takes out his phone from his back pocket and shakes his head at the sight of the time appearing on his screen. You’ve been at the golf course since 10 AM, and with how interested in the game your parents seem to be, you’re not leaving any time soon either.

Not really engaged in the conversation– because Chenle once told you you complain too much (you truly thought he was the one doing so, but you believe pretty much everything that comes out of the man’s mouth, because he’s mostly right about things) and you think you’ve done your fair share of complaining on your way to the golf course in the first place– you look around, trying to find a thing that could occupy your attention instead. Finding anything fun to do while playing golf may just be the hardest thing to do, but when you notice your companion Chenle missing and his figure appears striding towards your small group in a golf cart, the vehicle going full speed (even the barely 40 km/h looks like it could kill when he seems to not give a single damn about running you over), and suddenly, your mind is occupied enough.

Screeching when the golf cart barely misses your figure, you jump to the side and watch Chenle laugh from the driver’s seat. His malicious instincts barely ever leave his body and the operation of a golf cart is seemingly bringing out the worst in him– thank god he barely drives anymore– and you can’t help but laugh at his little stunt when the cart comes to a sharp halt and he waves you three over with a motion of his hand.

“Hop on, motherfuckers, we have places to be!” he says, all of you following his footsteps and jumping into the small vehicle– you in the passenger seat, next to Chenle, and Renjun and Yizhuo taking the two seats on the back. Once you’re all in, the engine grunts with the speed Chenle’s intending to get to in the weak thing, the atmosphere shifts into one with much more fun and adrenaline– because you know you’re not supposed to ride the carts (not this fast anyway) and when your parents find out, you’re gonna get in a lot of trouble. No, you’re not going to get grounded– you’re not a kid anymore– but the silent treatment and nagging from them about being well-raised and respectable members of society is enough to leave you scared of their anger for the rest of your lives.

“Slow down, I’m gonna fall out!” you scream when Chenle takes a sharp turn, the golf cart almost toppling over on the green grass. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” he notes, one of his hands loosely falling to your thigh to keep you in place, your skin heating up even more from his touch now, enjoying the hold but also fearing the eyes of your friends from the backseat. Your earlier terror is quickly erased with another sharp turn the driver takes– having much more things to worry about now, surviving being one of them– and when he zooms past the group of middle-aged people standing a few meters ahead of you, you already know you’re in big trouble.

Now you’re gonna get scolded for abducting a golf cart. When it wasn’t even your idea in the first place.

Well, that’s something to worry about later.

Chenle drives with the cart all over the golf course, the vehicle providing you enough entertainment for the next few minutes until you get tired of the ride. Looking over at him on your side, gaping a little at the view of your childhood friend driving the cart with only one hand, the other one still securely glazing your thigh, you almost choke out with how attractive the strange sight is to your eyes. Forcing yourself to focus on the road– and thank god, because if you didn’t hold to the side of the cart now, you’d surely fall out despite Chenle’s reassuring words and his hold on your leg– when the man cuts through a small hill in the golf course, the vehicle jumping up and falling back down making you scream in terror mixed with just a bit of excitement.

“Fucking hell, at least warn us before!” Renjun screams from the back, followed by Yizhuo’s amused laughter. You can only imagine Renjun’s almost fallen out, and even though the mental image looks hilarious, you really don’t need him to get hurt today, because he wouldn’t shut up about it for the next 8 working days. And it’s his birthday, after all– you wouldn’t wanna ruin it by having too much fun.

And so, with a last giggle escaping the boy’s throat, Chenle brings the golf cart to a halt, the vehicle stopping far enough from your parents to not get scolded immediately for making so much ruckus at the golf cart, the four of you enjoying the silence, still recovering from the wild ride. Smiling fondly to yourself and gaping at the boy next to you again, you suddenly grow appreciative of him. If it wasn’t for his wild nature, you would still be sulking somewhere on the golf course, pretending to enjoy living your snobby life alongside your parents. You bet even Renjun himself will find this moment captured in his brain as a core birthday memory, and the more you stare at Chenle’s side profile, the more you want to hold his face in your hands and thank him.

“Ew,” you hear Yizhuo’s voice from behind you, bringing you out of your thoughts. Looking back to see what she’s referring to, you watch her gaze landing on Chenle’s hand playing with the flesh on your thigh, heat suddenly rising to your cheeks in being caught in the exact position you feared a little while ago. 

“What–” Chenle snaps his head back at his cousin, while you quickly shrug his palm off your skin, but it’s too late now– you’ve been caught in the act and now you can’t do anything to erase Ning Yizhuo’s memory.

“You know, I thought you two were cousins at first. Like, from your dad’s side, I mean,” Yizhuo sighs, shaking her head in disbelief at the two of you, her comment not doing much to ease the situation either. Chenle seems to be confused at her words, his face scrunching up as he glares at the girl.

“We’re not,” you note, clearing your throat and looking at her with a glare, mentally praying for her to drop the topic.

“Yeah, thank god,” Chenle adds, and you should’ve expected him to make the situation even worse– it’s Zhong Chenle, after all– but his next words shock you and leave you gasping, mentally killing him right here and in this moment, “that would make a lot of things weird.”

“Ew,” Yizhuo repeats, and suddenly, that perks up Renjun’s attention– the boy previously facing the other side of the golf course and not paying you three much care– as he looks around and watches you with confusion in his features.

“What are you talking about?”

“That they are–” the girl takes it upon herself to explain her findings, but she’s quickly cut off by a sound of a middle-aged woman screaming through the place, her small figure striding towards the golf cart.

“Zhong Chenle, what do you think you’re doing?!”

And with that scolding tone, the previous topic is dropped. Thank god.

June 12, 2020 – Zhong Chenle’s room, Shanghai, 11:21 PM

A hand stroking through his hair, smoothing back the bangs and revealing his forehead in the dim blue of the neon light in his room, you lay on your side next to your friend Chenle, a blanket carelessly thrown over your half-naked middles to shield you from the breeze. You hum a song under your breath as you play with his locks, the black disappearing between your fingers like sand, eyes carefully watching his tired expression. 

If you thought hard enough, you could see the little boy you first met at your parent’s conference room when you were 3 materialize in front of your eyes. His cheeks were chubby and he was short, waddling behind you almost a head less than your size, and his voice was thin as he asked you for your name. From that moment on, you knew you were supposed to stick together– and while your parents were the first relative to bring you two together, you didn’t mind always being glued to each other’s hips. 

When you look closer at him now, it’s hard to see that boy in him. Harder than you expected, if you’re being totally honest. Don’t get me wrong, you can still see in his features– even though his cheekbones are more prominent now and his jaw is more chiseled, lips plumper and his figure built more firmly than when he was a little boy– but there’s something about his demeanor that completely changed over time. He seems less enthusiastic, and while one would think that it’s just him growing into being a more laid-back and relaxed person– he’s not a kid anymore, after all– you think there’s something more to it, you just can’t quite put your finger to it. 

Seeing him close his eyes every once in a while, lids falling under the weight of his tiredness and the comfort your gentle strokes through his scalp give him, you feel your heart clench with all the care you’re currently putting into the boy, and all that you’ve been putting into him throughout your growing up. After so many years– after getting so close and intimate with him– you don’t think you’d be able to let the boy go, and just the sheer image of ever losing him or leaving him behind leaves you trembling with anxiety. 

And so, despite being afraid of ruining the calm atmosphere that comes after making love to him, you speak up with a weak voice, contrasting to what you’re logically supposed to feel after getting to know the news this morning– just because you have to know. 

“Lele?” you mumble, hearing him let out a hum, his voice sounding as if he’s half-asleep, but you know he’s listening to you. “What are your plans… after you graduate?” you ask. The day of graduation is coming faster and faster towards you, the years you’ve spent at high school finally fulfilled after all the effort you put in on your finals.

“Dunno,” he replies, eyes barely opened as his arm that’s been previously laid on the mattress in between your two bodies moves to your hip, fingers drumming over the soft skin, “why?”

“Just wondering…” you speak, voice barely louder than a whisper. The boy stays silent– his eyes once again closing on themselves as you continue to play with his hair. One would think he’s fallen asleep, not awake enough to have this conversation, and you would even believe the fact and let the conversation go, thinking you’d find another time to dwell on this topic, but then, as a surprise, his voice startles you from your deep thoughts when he curiously inquires you, the hand on your hip steadying.

“What about you?”

Taking a deep breath in and out, a smile battling to take over your lips, you lick your lips in the heartbeat that comes before your answer. Swallowing your nerves– because even though you should’ve told him the moment you got the news this morning, you’re somehow stressed out about the action of doing so– you open your mouth and finally break the rules to him. 

“I… I got to Yale,” you say, on your toes. The joy and relief you felt this morning when you saw the email appear on your phone screen is daring to creep into the way you speak to Chenle right now, but you’re keeping it in. Not letting yourself scream and shout the accomplishment from the rooftops, you look at the boy, not a change appearing on his face at hearing your announcement. “I got into their business program,” you add anxiously, waiting for him to say something– anything– to your news.

As your friend, he’s supposed to be happy for you, isn’t he? He’s supposed to hug you now and squeeze you and tell you how you’ve done a good job and that he’s proud of you and that he’s cheering you on in your dream. None of it comes, though, as he only hums and nods at your sentences, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at you when you oh so excitedly talk to him about your life goals. 

Something inside of you breaks just the tiniest bit, your mood falling as you anxiously chew on the inside of your cheek.

“Are you not gonna say anything?” you demand, halting your movements through his raven locks, averting your touch and looking at him curiously.

You watch him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at you with an empty look, licking his lips before humming again and asking you in a tone of voice that barely meets interest or excitement. “So you’re gonna be a businesswomen like your mum when you get your degree?” he asks, nodding to himself.

“Yeah,” you answer, clearing your throat. You’re a little confused at his weird stance towards the topic, but you battle out a tight-lipped smile. “I’m hoping for it.”

He hums again, the noise seemingly enough for him to consider it a valid conversation holder, a deadpan: “Good,” leaving his lips after a second, making you furrow your brows in confusion and utter disappointment. This is not the way you imagined the conversation to go– this is not how you wanted it to go at all.

Heaving out a sigh, you tug your arm to yourself, contemplating on speaking up– knowing you’re just gonna make everything worse if you do– but doing so anyway. “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“I mean, what else is there to say?” 

Looking at him in disbelief, your face scrunching up in various different emotions, all mixing into one– disappointment being the dominant feel, you think, you scoff at him. This is not Zhong Chenle as you know him, and sure, he hasn’t been the most overly-excited, cheerful individual these past few months, but you still think you deserve at least a bit of praise for the achievement of getting into one of the hardest universities to get to in the world, no?

“I don’t know, you could… congratulate me, I guess…? Tell me I did a good job, I dunno… would be nice,” you mutter, snickering once more to prove your irritation with the man.

“Oh,” he says, looking genuinely surprised, taken-aback, even, “well, congrats on the legacy admission, I guess,” he says, nonchalant, as if his words aren’t a dagger to your heart each second that passes, your blood pressure rising as the reality downs on you that he’s being serious and that this is not a sick joke.

“The legacy admission?” you repeat, eyes big and shocked, your whole body moving an inch away from him on the bed without you realizing.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, not a bit caring about breaking you from the inside, the humiliation slowly creeping from the tips of your fingertips to the depths of your soul.

“So you’re saying I went through the whole admission process and put in so much effort only for you to say that I got in because of stupid legacy?” you chirp, gazing at him with sharp eyes, blood boiling from the impact of his words. “What legacy are you even talking about?”

“Don’t act like you’re not a nepo baby,” he snickers, rolling his eyes.

Gasping at his words, baffled at the unexpected reaction, you stand up on the bed and stare at him with sharp eyes. At a loss for words, you stutter a little when you speak up again and utter out the next words, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “Like you’re not?”

“Never said I’m not,” he shrugs, “don’t have a problem with admitting I am.”

“So you’re saying I only got to university because of my parents,” you get out, glossy eyes scanning his peaceful figure, “so you’re saying I’m not smart enough to get into Yale?” 

“That’s not what I said–”

“But you implied.”

“You only hear what you want to hear,” Chenle sighs, as if he was tired of your antics, which only makes you more furious at the whole interaction.

“No, Chenle–” you stutter, his name rolling off your tongue as if it was meant to stop him with hurting you even more for discrediting your efforts, yet, you can’t find any more words to say to him as you stare at this limb body laying on the soft mattress of his king sized bed, shaking your head in disbelief.

Standing up from the bed and scattering around the room for your clothes, ignoring the way putting them on in front of him makes you feel like you’ve been stripped away from all your dignity, you hurriedly come to the door of his bedroom, almost forgetting your phone that you gather on your way out from the messy desk in the right corner of the room. 

“Where are you going?” he asks monotonously, watching you move through the place.

“Home,” you bark out, running your hand through your hair as you walk back to the door, ignoring the hot tears pricking your eyes at the feeling of your whole entire world collapsing in on you when he mourns from the bed.

“Don’t be mad, it’s not like I said anything bad…”

“Goodnight,” you snap, not bothering to look back at him as you escape his house in the middle of the night, running through the street to your house much earlier than you anticipated, wiping at your cheeks with angry palms. 

This is the first time he disappointed you, and you can’t tell if that felt worse, or if it was the excitement slowly and painfully stripping off your bones, making you feel like you’re running around without your flesh, completely see-through for everyone around.

June 27, 2020 – IFC Mall, Shanghai, 4:33 PM

“Do you think this makes my ass look extra hot?” Yizhuo asks, gaze shifting from you to Chenle to Renjun, the four of you currently in one of the designer shops at the mall. Leaning on the wall, arms crossed on your chest and chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug, not a word escaping your mouth.

“I’m your cousin, I’m not looking at your ass like that,” Chenle mutters under his nose, sighing as he takes a seat on one of the expensive looking sofas situated in the changing room, resting his head against the neck rest and closing his eyes in what seems to be tiredness or annoyance– either of, or both mixed in, equal parts.

“Oh come on, I need to know!”

“It does look super hot, Yizhuo, now can you–”

“So you are staring at my butt!” Yizhuo excitedly yelps, pointing a sharp finger towards Renjun, a bright grin settling onto her lips when the accused boy stutters, cheeks reddening at her comment.

“You literally asked us to, for fuck’s sake!”

“You could’ve refused, just like Chenle did,” she shrugs, smiling to herself in victory. If anyone was listening to your conversation right now, they would surely have a lot of questions you wouldn’t be able to respond to. Hell, even you’re confused half of the time you hang out with Ning Yizhuo– what the hell is going on in her head?

“He’s your family, of course he refused,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head as he drags a hand through his hair in despair.

“Whatever you say, Renjunie,” she chirps, closing the curtain behind her and changing back into the pants she wore when she got to the store in one swift motion, leaving the boy puzzled with her next words as she walks up to the counter, “I’m only buying those because you think I look super hot in them, just so you know.”

Paying for her things and escaping the store, the rest of you tagging along, you notice the boy aimlessly trying to forget about the whole situation, and his prayers were listened to, after all, since Yizhuo seems to drop the topic after teasing him so much, turning to you instead. Walking alongside with you, leaving the two boys a few steps ahead, she nudges you with her elbow, raising up her brow in question.

“What’s up with you? You haven’t even tried anything on,” she notes, “and we both know you’ve been eyeing that new LV collection, so there must be something bothering you.”

Sighing, hating that the girl knows you so well– that, or you’re being awfully obvious– you roll your eyes in annoyance and try to shrug the topic off. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

“Well, that’s obviously a lie. Is it something with Chenle? You two are usually all over each other, so–”

“It’s not about Chenle,” you snap, cutting the poor girl off, “so drop it.”

“Did he say something stupid? I know my cousin, come on. I can slap some sense into him, sweetheart, just let me know–”

“Please let it be,” you insist, tone of voice almost a little too sharp for your own liking, but it seemingly does its job as your friend only shrugs and takes a sip out of the coffee you all bought when getting to the mall, catching up to the men a few steps in front of you, talking about basketball.

“Well, if you need to talk to anyone about it, you know where to find me,” she says, and joins the discourse with her cousin and the boy she’s been teasing for whatever reason for the last few weeks instead, leaving you to trail behind them like a lost puppy, deep in your thoughts.

It’s been a few weeks since you last talked to Chenle. He tried reaching out to you a few times, sending you texts to ask what you’re doing that day to see if you wanna hang out. It seemed that at first, he didn’t really understand that he upset you. After you continued to ignore him even on graduation day, only greeting him and sparing him a few words, he seemed to get the memo as he let you deal with your emotions by yourself instead. You were never given an apology– and truthfully, knowing Chenle, you didn’t even expect to get one in the first place. But still, it’s been bugging you and you couldn’t get his words out of your brain, because you know you can’t do anything about them– if this is the image he has of you, the opinion he created, you don’t think you can talk it out with him in the first place.

“Everything okay back there?” Chenle asks, looking behind at you. His eyes are big and honest, and you find yourself nodding to his caring question. Sparing him a word seems like too much effort right now, and so when he offers you a tight-lipped smile, you don’t have enough energy to reciprocate it.

“Princess Yizhuo here has sore feet, so we are calling it a day. You wanted anything from the mall? I can stay behind with you and go get it,” he continues, his words jabbing into you only reminding you more of the days you spent ignoring him. Realistically, he should be mad at you for it– maybe you even wanted that to happen so he would ignore you instead, giving you the silent treatment, but this is your childhood friend Zhong Chenle we’re talking about. He talks too much in situations where he should shut up instead, and that’s exactly what’s happening in this very moment as well.

“I’m good,” you note, shrugging as you throw the empty coffee cup into one of the bins on your way, your small group now escaping the mall and getting to the parking lot.

Walking towards Chenle’s Zenvo TS1 parked in the corner of the parking lot, you hear the chatter of the group resonating in your ears, not really engaging in the conversation yourself, but choosing to listen to feel included anyway. It’s not their fault that you’re not in the mood, and frankly, you’re glad they even invited you to the outing in the first place. Everything’s better than being left out in your books, even if it means forcing yourself into social interaction. 

“My driver should be here any minute,” Yizhuo smiles, waving at Renjun currently getting into his Porsche Cayenne that he got after you all arrived from his birthday trip to Korea. Watching the boy drive off– while listening to Chenle bitching about his driving (he does have a point though, the poor boy almost crashed into a pole on his way out) – you feel a nudge to your elbow, making you turn to your friend.

“Wanna get back with me, neighbor?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

In any other circumstance, you wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before answering. But now, you ponder on the question for a bit– you got to the mall with Yizhuo, having hanged out with her at her place before– but now that she’s getting a drive home, there was no use in you tagging along with her, since you live quite far from her house. Getting a drive home from Chenle is the most logical solution, after all, and that’s why you find yourself nodding.

Jumping to the passenger’s seat, waving at Yizhuo still waiting for her driver to get there– it should take only about 5 more minutes, with the speed her driver can get to when called– you silently gaze out of the window on your way back, not sparing the boy next to you a glance. He seems to not mind, carefully taking turns and waiting at the stop signs and red lights on his way to your neighborhood, humming along under his breath to the songs on the radio instead to fill the silence. You spend the ride chewing on your cheek, nerves eating you up from inside just at the sheer fact of being in his close proximity again, yet still being so painfully hurt at the feelings he expressed the last time you hung out one-on-one.

His car smoothly gets to the parts of the town that feel more rich– houses growing bigger in size, the gates taller in the sky and the lawns mowed more carefully, with more fancy bushes in the yards and pure-blood dogs running around in front of the gates. After a few minutes, your neighborhood appears in front of your eyes, his car driving past your house and into the Zhong property instead, making you furrow your brows in confusion and annoyance.

“You could’ve just stopped in front of my house so I could get out, you know,” you hum, sighing when he turns the engine off. 

“I was thinking we could hang out over at ours for a sec,” he shrugs, turning his face to you with a hopeful glint in his eye, which you dismiss with an annoyed huff and a roll of your eyes, reaching towards the door handle to get out and walk over to your house instead. 

“Come on, Y/N,” he calls for you, “are you still mad?”

“No,” you snicker, shrugging as you move towards the front gates, his figure quickly catching up to you as he grabs your wrist, halting you in your movements.

“I’m sorry. Let me make it out to you?” he mumbles, looking at you with eyes big and deep like honey, and suddenly, you’re a putty under his touch– just like always, you cave in– as you sigh, following him inside. You don’t miss the victorious pep in his step as he leads you inside, his hand still in contact with your arm, only letting go when you get to his room and he leads you to sit on his bed.

“Wanna play something?” he asks, thrusting a PS5 controller into your hands, not really leaving you much room for disapproval. Grunting and rolling your eyes at him, you watch as he opens up It takes two, your characters running around the split screen trying to figure out the way around.

The silence between the two of you is cruciating, suffocating, even, as neither of you have enough courage to open up the topic again. Tugging at your bottom lip, biting off the dry skin up to the point it bleeds, you sigh and turn to the boy again, putting the controller down. “Is this your way of making it up to me?” you ask.

Cocking his head to you, he shrugs. “I mean, I had a different idea, but that’s up for a discussion…” he mutters, the suggestion of his words making you roll your eyes at him, in disbelief of the fact that he still has the audacity to tease when he knows you’re clearly upset with him.

“Okay, I’m… really sorry, okay?” he says when he registers your mood, sighing to himself and running a hand through his hair. “I kinda fucked up, and I realise that. I didn’t mean to imply that you’re stupid, or anything– come on, I always cheated off you on exams, after all– so, I just- it came off wrong, is what I’m tryna say,” he concludes, looking at you hopefully, his face seemingly in tune with the words coming out of his mouth.

Humming, you shrug, not really knowing what to say. The apology settles a little in you, noting that at least he acknowledged that he fucked up, and so you pick up the controller again and avert your gaze from him. Seeing as his character refuses to move, you look at him from the corner of your eye, raising your brows in question.

“So you forgive me?” he asks, licking his lips in nerves– the action making your eyes travel down to the plump rosiness, involuntarily following his action. His glistening mouth has your gaze wandering around his body, eyes focusing on things you’ve been purposefully ignoring the whole day– the way his forearms show off in his short-sleeved shirt, the way his hair is parted in a way that shows his forehead in the most strangely attractive ways, and also the ever-so casual demeanor of the male. Chuckling to yourself, you shrug, taunting him.

“I dunno,” you mumble, “how can you make it up to me?”

And again, Chenle gets the hint– he’s not stupid, after all. 

Slowly lounging himself towards you, making you drop the controller to his sheets, you close your eyes in expectancy of his touch, already so used to the rhythm of his lips against yours. His hand holds your jaw in place, firm kisses pressed to your yearning mouth, you try to remember the way his touch feels– just in case you have to give it up soon again– a selfish action of your body as you thread your fingers through his hair. 

Lips ghosting over yours, he snickers against them as he speaks. “You taste of blood,” he notes.

“Shut up,” you mutter, taking matters into your own hands as you lock yourself to him again, pressing shaky, hurried kisses to his lips. 

He finds a better place to attach them to, though, as he gently pushes you towards his mattress into a lying position, traveling towards your jaw and your neck. His touch never stays long enough to leave a mark– at least not in places visible for everyone to see, saving you a lot of explaining to your parents and your friends– but the kisses still leave you breathless and yearning for more, hands traveling down his back and humming in pleasure.

“Missed this,” he speaks against your skin, breathless, “so much.”

“Missed my body or me?” you ask, a hint of bitterness on your tongue.

“A bit of both,” he smirks, gently sucking on the skin of your collarbone, leaving you to squirm under the feathery touch. Hands traveling up under your shirt, his fingers trailing across your belly and the curve of your hip, you’re left shivering under the contrast of the heated atmosphere and his stone-cold hands, giggling when he presses an unusually sweet kiss to your cheek in between the more risky ones.

“And which one did you miss more?” you tease, locking eyes with him as he hovers over your body, plopped up by an arm on either side of your head.

His eyes glimmer as he stares you down, cocking his head to the side. “I miss when you didn’t talk,” he says, leaning down again and taking your breath away with a kiss, a displeased grunt meeting his lips as you disapprove of his snarky comment.

In the sheer second where you two break away for air, his hands undress your top, leaving you under him just in your underwear, a position you two have found yourselves in a number of times before. Still, it leaves you shy away under his hungry eyes, only relaxing again when his raven locks tickle the underside of your jaw, lips attaching to every inch of your now exposed body, not afraid of bruising the skin you always keep covered, out of everyone’s eyes. Sometimes, you yearn for him to plant a lovebite to your jaw, to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, wanting to show them off to everyone and claim the boy as yours– you know you don’t have that power, though, when Zhong Chenle will never be yours and the bruises of desire are always hidden away from everyone, like a dirty little secret; much like what you two have going on in the first place anyway.

“You know,” he mutters against your skin, in between the kisses that have now grown lazier, “I was starting to get a little crazy when you ignored me. That was a first,” he says.

Snickering, hands once again finding their place in his locks, you shrug. “Was the first time you deserved it.”

“Does my opinion really matter to you that much?” he asks, chuckling as he presses another kiss to your skin, to a place a few inches below your collarbone.

“We’ve been friends forever,” you say, “‘course it does.”

“Well, then you should’ve known that as your friend,” he huffs, lips pressed against your skin, ���‘m not looking down on you.”

Humming, you let him work his magic as his lazy kisses inch closer to the fabric of your bra, his other hand playing with the fabric of it, twirling the little bow in between your breasts in his fingers as he leans on one of his plopped-up hands, looking at you from the side. 

“Guess I was just more curious about what you wanted to do after school, y’know,” you say, the conversation flowing despite his hands all over you, “before you called me a nepo baby, of course.”

He chuckles at your remark, rolling his eyes at you as his finger trails up your side, your skin growing goosebumps under his touch. “Dunno yet. Why do you care?”

“Wanted to see how far we’re gonna be,” you say, the moment suddenly growing more intimate. The relationship you two have was never inclusive– you two had sex sometimes, sure, but you never once told each other this was more than that. You two were just mere fuck buddies, childhood friends that found sexual attraction in each other somewhere along the way, and while that was enough for you for a while, you found yourself growing anxious of the fact that he was never going to be fully yours. And with the growing anxiety– the smallest remainder of your worries that overtake you in the middle of the night sometimes– your throat closes up on itself when you choke out the next words. “Wanted to see how much time we have left together.”

His hand settles on your hip, his eyes bearing into yours with a newly found heaviness in them. Furrowing his brows, he licks his lips in nerves before speaking up. “Well, I’ll always be your neighbor, so you can find me when you come back. Unless we move, y’know…” he jokes, an airy laugh coming out his lungs that doesn’t meet the expected intention of easing the situation.

You chuckle– but there’s not a hint of lightheartedness in the gesture, quite the opposite, really– as you avert your gaze from him, your head lollying to the side when you try to hide your slowly, but surely growing red eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

The hand on your hip squeezes the skin under it, his figure now fully hovering over you again, eyes desperately wanting to meet yours. A finger gently pressed to your chin makes you turn your head back forward, his worried gaze bearing into you, and for a moment, you two only stare into each other’s eyes, frozen in time. 

And again, Zhong Chenle isn’t stupid. 

But for a second, he acts like he is. 

“What are you talking about?” he chuckles. “You’re scaring me.”

And when you don’t give him an answer, but instead chew on the inside of your cheek– another place to bleed after you bite down too hard from the nerves crushing you from the inside– he seems to finally get the hint, an airy laugh full of disbelief meeting your ears. Having figured it out, still, he speaks it into existence– as if he needed a confirmation; 8 words tormentingly escaping from between his swollen lips.

“You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

Sniffling, you shut your eyes close at the question, your silence a clear answer to your childhood friend as he peels himself off you, the feeling of cold air on your exposed skin like a painful slap to reality. You stay like that for some time, mentally counting seconds, each hammer of your heart in your chest like a threat to your existence. Finally, the silence is broken by a determined, yet a little weak sentence coming out of Chenle’s mouth.

“I think you have to leave.” 

Numb, you follow the orders.

July 25, 2020 – Ning Yizhuo’s room, Shanghai, 6:11 PM

“So I was right all along?” Yizhuo snickers, eating from the bowl of almonds she has settled in the free space between her lap and her crossed legs, staring at you with the hydrating sheet mask on her face. You heave out a sigh at her comment, rolling your eyes as you fall back into her soft mattress, shaking your head in disbelief.

“That’s all you got from this conversation?” 

“Almost,” she mumbles, but nudges you with her foot right after, “I’m joking. I was listening, I’m just… shocked that I was actually right and that you were fucking my cousin all along.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not happening anymore, so you don’t have to be disturbed,” you grunt, wondering why you actually told the girl in the first place, regretting the decision perhaps the most right now. Yes, she did bug you for the last few weeks about the reasoning behind your attitude, and the fact that you refused all the invitations to hang out with your friends in fear of seeing Chenle were starting to get a bit suspicious, so you figured you can’t hide it anymore and that Yizhuo was bound to find out either way sooner or later. And still, you think you needed a bit of girl advice too.

“‘m not disturbed,” she mumbles, voice suddenly considerate, “I just- the whole situation is all kinds of weird and fucked up right now.”

“Tell me about it,” you chuckle, the bitter taste on your tongue never leaving despite trying to drown your sorrow down in sweets. “I fucked it up, Yizhuo.”

“Now, that’s just not true,” she sighs, putting the bowl of almonds to her coffee table and laying next to you, reaching for your hand and swinging it around in failed acts of encouragement and affection. “It’s not your fault he freaked out and made it weird.”

“I made it weird!” you mourn, breaking away from her grasp and dragging your hands through your hair in frustration, the feelings bundling in your stomach making you feel like acid is just bound to shoot out of the crevices of your insides, throwing up from the stress and despair. “I’m moving across the world the next month and I won’t see any of you for a long time, since Jun is moving to Korea and you’re gonna work in your parent’s company as well as going to uni here, and instead of spending the last moments of summer break together, I fucked it up and made everything weird and awkward just because I had to fall in love with my childhood best friend. While we’d been fucking. Isn’t that fucking great?” you huff, closing your eyes shut with the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks at your own words falling from between your lips.

“We are spending time together right now, though,” Yizhuo tries to cheer you up, her pout heard in her tone.

“There are millions of different ways you’d love to spend your time with me instead of moping because of your cousin,” you note, sighing, “and I don’t even fucking know what he’s gonna do after summer break, and now, I won’t get to know.”

Yizhuo grows quiet next to you, suggesting the thickening atmosphere. Turning on your side to see your friend with her eyes glued to your figure, you chew on the inside of your cheek. She sighs, preparing herself for the mental tangent she’s gonna bring you on, and reaches over to smooth down your messy hair. 

“You know, Chenle never really liked… this life,” she says, shrugging, “he hates shopping, he hates hearing about investing, he hated traveling so much when you and your family didn’t tag along… At every family reunion, he just hid away in his room and never got out, because he found the whole situation snobby and fake and all those adjectives I’ve never really thought about calling my own relatives. He… he…” she licks her lips, trying to come up with the right words to say, “he sees the world around us with different eyes, and I don’t think he’s happy with it. So don’t- don’t be mad at him for not really… going anywhere with it, okay?” 

Furrowing your brows at her, you shake your head in confusion. This is perhaps the first time you really realized Chenle’s view on things– it’s not like you haven’t heard his annoyed rants about all the prestige and over-the-top lifestyle you all have, but that’s all you thought it was. Annoyance– because at the end of the day, your life is comfortable. You wouldn’t want it any other way. If money moves the world around, you were the one walking through every hallway, all opportunities opened up in front of your eyes; and you don’t think you’d enjoy your life more if you had a bit less money. Chenle, on the other hand, seems to be quite the opposite. His joy is not determined by money, and for the first time in your life, it seems like you’re getting what he’s been talking about your whole life, the words you heard but never truly listened to. It was right in front of you the whole time, but you never saw it, and now that your eyes have been opened, you find it hard to deal with the revelation.

“But what is he going to do?” you gurgle out, confused. 

“I don’t think he knows either,” Yizhuo shrugs, “he’s… figuring out things, I suppose.”

Chuckling, you shut your eyes in despair, thinking for a bit, but still failing to grasp the situation. “I don’t get it. He- he could have everything, but he’s just… throwing everything away? He could move across the world, he could start his own company, he could buy a house or work or study, but he just won’t,” you ramble, “I don’t get it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Yizhuo shrugs, “but he sees it a different way.”

Laying flat on your back, eyes glued to the ceiling, your friend clears her throat and awkwardly shuffles around her sheets. “And at the end of the day, even though you’ve been friends for forever, I think you’re just in love with the version of him that you’ve created in your head. The version that you’re trying, but cannot fix,” she notes, pausing for a moment before proceeding,  “the only person you can fix is yourself.”

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right. Maybe you fell in love with the Chenle in his sports car, Chenle in the golf cart with his designer clothes on, Chenle on the cruise ship sipping on expensive alcohol. Maybe you fell in love with the version that has the whole world in the palm of his hand, the version of him that goes to Yale with you and rents out a luxurious apartment in the middle of the city, kissing you behind the tall windows, watching over the busy streets– the version in your dreams, the version you wanted to achieve.

But what about the version of him that walked you to your house after tennis class? What about the version of him that cuddled you in his sheets, the version of him that fell asleep soundly when you played with his hair, cradled your fingers through his scalp? What about the version of him that scared you in the dark, because he knew you get creeped out too easily, the version of him that ate cheap sausage with you in Japan, the version of him that studied with you and brought you to your bed when you fell asleep at the table? What about the version of him that cried to Disney movies with you, the version of him that danced with you to the tunes of One Direction in your room when you were sixteen, the version of him that threw rocks on your window in the moonlight the night you turned seventeen, wanting to be the first one to wish you happy birthday before slipping inside of your room in the middle of the night, only to fall asleep seconds later, huddling your sheets?

Did you make that up? Was that not him in the first place?

And maybe, there is a discrepancy between the dream you’ve made up in your head with him, the idea of you two staying together, trying to fix the view he has on the world you two live in, but at the end of the day, none of it was a lie. 

And maybe, Yizhuo’s right; you should change the way you view things to match Chenle’s better, because at the end of the day, maybe you’re the one too blinded by the gold and silver around your neck to see the real issue here.

August 2, 2020 – Lehai Villas, Baicheng, China, 10:15 PM

When you finally see Zhong Chenle after the night he kicked you out of his bedroom, both of you are a mess. 

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense. Your dress is neat, the jewelry on your neck was carefully picked out days before, the heels enveloping your feet are one of the most comfortable ones for you to walk in, since you prepared yourself for being on your feet the whole evening. Your makeup is fixed on your face, earrings dangling off your ears and your purse matches the outfit perfectly; your hair in a fancy updo that you even drove to a hairdresser for, all so that you could look flawless for another one of your parent’s gatherings. Their business partner’s son is turning 21, and while it doesn’t look like that big of a deal, they are celebrating the fact that Mark Lee is now one of the shareholders of their company– and in your world, this is the most moving moment of the child’s life.

You’re a mess in the more subtle sense– you keep looking around, restless, not really paying attention to anything anyone is saying. Aimlessly humming and picking at the skin of your cuticles, you try hard to both catch a glance of your friend, and to also avoid him at all costs. The reality that Zhong Chenle is a mess too hits you only when you finally see him– his tie loose on his neck, a grunt escaping his throat that you can hear from all the way to where you are, his walking a little wobbly and his hair messy as he runs his hand through the sprayed-down locks, his composure disheveled and so obviously out of the place.

And you want to stay away, you really do– to let him deal with his own things by himself, to pretend you weren’t cautiously looking for him all evening– but when he picks up another glass of alcohol from one of the tables and downs it in one go, cheeks getting rosier by the minute, you wonder how far you can let him go until he gets into trouble with his parents; and suddenly, you’re on your feet, just like you expected, dragging your figure closer to the one you’ve been trying to avoid.

“Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?” you mumble when you appear behind him, his shoulders slouching at the tone of your voice. When he looks around and catches your eyes, he snickers to himself, shrugging, before he makes a face full of disgust at your remark.

“We’re celebrating, aren’t we?” he says, “Mark Lee’s a big man now, taking all the responsibility for a company that’s so great, and he loves the job so much,” he continues, over-exaggerating every word, “and we’re here to celebrate his birthday! Have you… seen the motherfucker anywhere, by the way? Would wanna congratulate him on… the thing…” he trails off, dramatically scratching his head as he speaks the last words.

“Chenle–”

“Right! We are celebrating a guy we don’t even know, or seen the whole evening, but that’s so great, because at least we have all this alcohol–”

“Okay, you’re getting out of here,” you snap, shaking your head at his antics and digging your nails into his forearm, dragging the boy out of the crowded place before he throws a tantrum. With how his voice was getting louder and louder, a few figures turned to watch your exchange, and you can’t imagine the turmoil this will take on him once his parents find out– it’s better to get him out of there before he messes up even more badly.

His feet stumbling on the stairs outside, he mutters something under his breath as you drag his half-limp, half-stubborn body through the enormous land. The gardens are full of fairy lights and adults talking to each other in hushed whispers, laughter erupting out of their put-together figures every now and then, and you take some time before you finally manage to find a silent corner in one of the carefully mowed gardens, Chenle’s complains silencing after a while, admitting his fate.

Carelessly throwing his body towards one of the benches, the lighting dim in the corner, you watch as he takes a seat and looks at you with defeated eyes, the emptiness behind his gaze breaking you on so many levels you didn’t even think you could master; Zhong Chenle is a mess– has been a mess for a while now, and you didn’t notice– you didn’t do anything about it until now.

“What happened to you?!” you yelp out, voice betraying you somewhere towards the end of the sentence, sounding more desperate than you intended. Eyes scanning over his slouching body, you notice him playing with his fingers in his lap, an action of calming himself down that he’s picked up after you slapped his hands every time he tried to bite on his nails growing up, and you take a few steps around the place, running your fingers through your carefully styled hair. 

“Don’t scold me like my mother,” Chenle grunts, rolling his eyes at your composure.

“No, Chenle, because I don’t get it,” you shake your head, looking him dead in the sparkless eyes, “I do not get it.”

When he offers you no explanation, rather just gazing your whole body up and down, eyes half-lidded, you presume he’s a bit out of it– the alcohol truly hitting his system now, making you result in a little tangent of yourself, because you presume everything’s better than his parent’s scolding, and maybe he just needs someone to wake him back to reality. “What happened, Chenle? What the actual fuck is going on lately? You don’t speak to anyone about it, you don’t tell me, out of all people–” a snicker leaves his lips to this, making you huff in frustration, “you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling, and it’s eating you up from the inside, and believe me when I say, Chenle, it’s pretty damn heartbreaking to watch.”

Looking at him, you’re offered nothing but silence. His cheeks are rosy and puffed up from the alcohol, his frame is small– opposed to the power stance he usually takes– and you don’t think you’re getting a conversation from him any time soon. Ready to give up, you shake your head at him and scoff. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk to me, since you have an issue with the fact that I care about you more than I should,” you snap, agreeing to be petty with him, if this was how he was gonna play.

“I don’t talk to any of you, because you wouldn’t understand,” he says, voice almost a bit annoyed, tongue dipped in bitterness. 

“We grew up together, Chenle. Our lives are pretty much the same, why the fuck would you think that I, out of all people, wouldn’t understand?” 

“See, that’s the thing,” Chenle catches you off guard, charming in with an argument barely before you are able to finish the sentence, “our lives are pretty much the same, yet you love it. You fucking love it, all of you do– you love waking up in your little fancy bedrooms, doing great at school because if you don’t, your parents are going to threaten you with disowning you– and what else do you have if not your parents wealth that you coincidentally, also despise at the same time? You go shopping to your favorite mall with your equally wealthy friends, because you’re not allowed to befriend people that are lower class– that would just look fucking embarrassing in front of your parents’ contacts, wouldn’t it? You go to charity events and birthday celebrations of a guy you’ve never seen in your whole life before, just because someone told you to– and don’t you dare tell them you won’t go, because how the fuck are they gonna look all pretty in front of their business partners if their only son doesn’t attend a celebration of someone inheriting a share from their parents’ company– a thing you’re supposed to do as soon as you turn 20, if you don’t attend university they picked out for you instead. You go on fancy holidays and take pictures in front of all the attractions, and it doesn’t even feel special anymore, because you do this every month– and the only time you ever felt alive was when you were drunk and making out with someone that you shouldn’t even think about in that way in the first place, because it’s your parents’ friends’ daughter, and at the end of the day, they would just love the fact that we were together, because that could strengthen the business bond they have– the only reason why they’re friends in the first place, and I’m so fed up, I hate it, I despise it–” he stops to take a breath, his eyes getting glossy,

and suddenly, you’re helpless, you’re falling apart– because the issue is so much bigger than you anticipated and you don’t know how to do anything about it.

“And I don’t fucking feel real, Y/N, I don’t, and I don’t think I ever have, because I just wake up in the mornings and then somewhere along the way, I realise I’m alive and I laugh, because how could all of this be real? How could the money be real? How could anything be real, and– and it’s so confusing, because I should be grateful, but I’m not, because I can’t even fully grasp it,” he breathes, tears now streaking down his cheeks.

It feels like the whole world stopped for a moment; it feels like you are in a movie and someone pressed pause. You stare at him, you blink, and you pray for something to send you strength to deal with this, to tell you what to do or how to comfort him– because this must have felt so alone, and you can’t stand the image of Chenle ever being lonely.

Opening your mouth and closing it, you gasp for air. No words feel suitable for this kind of conversation, and so you just chime towards him– despite all your best assumptions– and hold him. Because at the end of the day, what helps more to ground someone back to earth than human touch?

Pads of your thumbs wipe at the teardrops strolling down his cheeks, every contact with the salty liquid hurting you, cutting through your skin like razor blades– because Chenle never cries, he never feels like something is worth indulging in enough to bring him to tears– and when he catches his trembling bottom lip in his teeth, you break; pulling him towards you and threading your fingers through his hair, the action once lullying him to sleep now used like a broken mantra– please be okay, please relax, please let me hold you until you’re glued back together again.

“I dunno what to do,” he shrugs, his head resting on your stomach, voice burrowing itself into the fabric of your expensive dress, “dunno where to go. ‘Cause Jun’s leaving, and Yizhuo’s gonna be busy with everything, and– and you’re moving across the fucking ocean, and I’m just– I turned everything down, because–” he says, voice breaking, and you shush him with a pat on his back, touch growing more affectionate.

“It’s okay,” you hum, “I got you,” you say; words he once told you at the golf cart, looking after you, or in the hotel room back in Japan when you were 6 and falling asleep, still scared of ghosts appearing in your bedroom– and you believed them, you always did, because Chenle was always there when you needed him– so you only pray he finds comfort in the sincere phrases, because what more is there to offer him?

His breathing grows steadier as you continue to play with his messy hair, his hands gently allowing themselves to wrap around your thighs, your standing figure shelved between his legs, and he laughs to himself, the whole situation kind of ironic to him now. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. ‘m kinda numb, you know, so it doesn’t even really hurt in the first place,” he says, and you wish you found the same humor in it than he did– or at least the bitter sense of soothing yourself with irony– but you can’t. Looking down at his body, latched to you like a lifeline, you wonder how you could ever leave him there alone, to deal with the burden by himself. How could you ever move so far away from him?

“My parents wanted me to go with you,” he starts, the sentence sparking up something inside of you, but he doesn’t pull away and meet your eyes when he continues, foreshadowing a sad ending to your hope, “they said I should study business at Yale as well, that it’s a great opportunity.”

You don’t reply to him, choosing not to push him. After a sigh, he continues. “And I didn’t get in, because, naturally, I was too stupid for it in the first place– no, I was–” he says when you gently slap the back of his head at the comment, “but then they paid the dean and suddenly I was allowed to go. Can you believe that?” he snickers bitterly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Bad mouthed you for a thing I despised in myself, when you were the one that got in fair and square in the first place.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, compassion dripping off your words.

“And I turned it down, ‘cause I hated the fact that they did that. I was okay with studying the fucking business program, even though I despised it, I was okay with moving across the world, because at least you’d be there, y’know, but I couldn’t bear the fact that they did that to get me in. I think I was too ashamed, too embarrassed, because they had to pay for me to get there, but– I don’t know…” he trails off, and you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“It’s okay to take opportunities that are presented to you, Lele,” you mumble, “I know you hate it, but you can’t change who you’re born to. The best you could do is to not waste all of this,” you say, trying to find a source of light in the deep abyss of his thoughts.

You try hard to solve the problem– to offer him a solution that could work, that could let him forget about the pain for at least a second– to wake him up from whatever deep thinking that got him into this mess. You try hard to solve the problem– but you don’t know how to deal with it. All you know is that you’re trying to pick up the patterns; you’d fit in his skin if you could, you’d crawl in and fix everything– but at the end of the day, as Yizhuo said, the only person you can fix is yourself.

“Bought,” he says, fixing your mistake, “opportunities that were bought for me. I couldn’t do it,” he says.

Huffing, indulging in a spare second of your own pain– a spare second of the despair eating you up from the insides, the helplessness you’ve been feeling ever since you were forcefully kicked out of Zhong Chenle’s life– and you didn’t even tell him you loved him in the first place before he got stuck in the fire of the woods; before you two started acting like it didn’t matter and always ended up in feuds– you mumble a comment, voice barely louder than a whisper, but he can hear it because of the closeness of your bodies in the few stray raindrops that come over you two once the clock strikes midnight.

“We could’ve lived together, you and me,” you say, “us against the whole world,” you comment– a childlike yearning spilling out of your lips, “we could’ve gone to Yale together and you’d figure something out along the way. Maybe– maybe you’d find a purpose if you moved, we could–”

“Y/N,” he shushes you, uttering out your name, finally breaking away from you as he looks up and gazes into the swimming pools of your eyes, shaking his head with a faint smile, “‘s okay. It wouldn’t have fixed anything anyway, it– it wouldn’t have helped.”

“But–”

“You can move, Y/N, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re taking yourself with you.”

August 20, 2020 – the backyard of your childhood house, Shanghai, 11:11 PM

You were never really that good at science– sure, your parents demanded you get good grades in every subject and your private school put quite the pressure on your education, but even though you always managed to pull satisfactory marks in exams, your understanding of the logistics sometimes lacked; you were much better at humanities or business-related courses, hearing enough at family dinners to find out your way through the lectures and apply the facts into examples from real life.

So, if anyone asked you how many stars there were in the universe, you wouldn’t be too confident in your answer. You wouldn’t know how to apply the Milky Way as your model– since it was said that it has around 100 billion stars alone– and multiply the part by the amount of galaxies in the universe– approximately 2 trillion– to get a number somewhere close to 200 billion trillion, also called 200 sextillion. 

You wouldn’t know how to do any of that, or how to even count this amount without a calculator, so you’d take a more liberal arts approach– literary, even– and say, that on August 20, 2020, at 11:11 sharp in your backyard, gazing on to the deep, dark sky and wishing for a star to fall so you could propose a selfish wish that could change everything, there’s still not more stars there than in Zhong Chenle’s eyes when your gazes meet after your friends leave for the evening, leaving you with your neighbor completely alone.

And it’s strange, seeing him like this– maybe because you didn’t even realize how used to the dull and emotionless Chenle you’ve been all this time– but it warms something inside of your heart as you take a hesitant step towards him, the first one out of the whole evening, and take a seat next to him in the corner of your terrace, sighing to yourself.

“You actually came,” you note, seeing as he turns to you and furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion.

“Should I not have? I mean, by the text you sent me, it seemed like you wanted me here, but if I misread the situation, I can go…” he snickers, teasing you just the slightest as he nudges you to your side.

You hum, shaking your head in disapproval. “No,” you say, “I just… I dunno.”

“Expected me to ignore you?” 

“Kinda,” you admit, snickering.

“Damn,” he giggles, “that’s fair, though. Considering the previous events, and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his composure, finally getting used to the old Chenle– the one that teases you over the smallest things, the one who doesn’t let his emotions show in his face– you watch him as he takes a seat on one of the rattan sofas and you follow him, body slouching next to his, feeling his head gently rest on your shoulder in the mere moment of silence between your two figures.

“Wouldn’t let you leave without seeing you for the last time,” he says, voice quiet and vulnerable, “god knows when I’ll see you again.”

“Chenle–”

“Just because you don’t want to talk about it doesn’t mean it’s not real,” he snickers, already knowing where your words are going– you’re going to try to stop him, tell him you don’t want to think about it right now, on the last evening at your house for the near future. 

“I’d rather not think about that, y’know,” you huff, frustrated. The anxieties of leaving everything behind are clenching on your insides right now, holding you back from moving freely and with enthusiasm, and you wonder– if you knew how this would feel all those months ago– if you knew how terrifying and painful the whole process could be, would you still apply to Yale? Would you still want to go?

“Okay,” he dotes, tone of voice casual, like it’s not a big deal. 

“Okay? Just like that?” you snicker, surprised at how easily he gave the topic up.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna make you sadder.”

Sitting in silence, you realize there’s so many words you’d like to say to him. You’d like to tell him just how much you’re gonna miss him and how you regret ruining the last few months you two had together, and how you’re sorry your feelings scared him to the point where he felt like he had no one to confide in. You’d like to tell him how you built a future with him in your brain, carefully placed him into your reality, only for him to break away from your grasp and go his own way, and how much it hurts, but how you’re always going to support him in whatever he chooses, because you care for him more than your little heart could take. You’d like to tell him how you’re gonna call him every day to check up on him, how you’re gonna send letters and press a secret kiss to each sheet of expensive paper you’ll get downtown, wishing he could feel the essence with the growing distance between you two. You’d like to ask him to visit you often– he’s gonna have more time on his hands, and god knows money’s not the issue. You’d like to selfishly tell him you find it hard to deal with the distance, and how you wish he wouldn’t find somebody else while you’re gone, and how you so dearly hope that somewhere in there, your feelings are silently reciprocated, but hidden away in fear of everything falling apart once again.

But instead, you don’t say anything. You tend to wait for him to speak up first– he’s always had a problem with talking too much in the first place, after all.

And he does– you can still predict his next moves. You know him that well.

“I’m gonna miss you, though,” he sighs, catching you off guard by saying something from the list of your silenced words, “don’t think that I won’t. Or that the way I’ll miss you is different than the way you’re gonna miss me,” he speaks, tone of voice laced in honesty and sincerity, his words heavy with the essence of what he’s never going to say out loud– or so you think.

“In what way?”

“I’m not gonna miss you like a friend misses a friend,” he says, “and I don’t mean the sex,” he snickers, brightening the mood with his comment.

Rolling his eyes at him, you feel him lift his head up from your shoulder, forcing you to look at him and meet his starry eyes again– the damn starry eyes that always make you spill the truth, because god knows you cannot lie to him– and you find yourself scanning his features, the structure of his bones you fear you’re gonna forget when you’re away, so desperately wanting to lock your lips with his for one last time, because when you come back one day, you may not have the right or chance to do so anymore. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, not a hint of teasing in his voice.

“You know why, Chenle.”

“Can you say it out loud?” he demands, and you shake your head– maybe it's best if the words are left unsaid. Doesn’t matter if they’re hanging in the air, for everyone to read.

“Why?”

“You know how I feel about you,” you snicker, “don’t make me say it out loud.”

Because even if you told him you loved him, it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t make it all better, it wouldn’t make it all good– no matter how hard you wish that it would. 

“Okay,” he nods, agreeing too fast again– and with that, he smiles, the gesture so soft and sudden, and there you are– you’ve got a caving heart in your open arms, and Chenle takes it, carelessly choking out the hushed confession, “I’m in love with you. If you don’t say it, I’m gonna, because… you deserve to know.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watch him, frozen in your place, for a while. Your eyes carefully scan every curve of his face– the curve of his lips, the curve of his cheeks, the hood of his eyes, his brows, the thousand stolen galaxies in his orbs and mouth glistening like honey, inviting you in. Snickering under your breath, you choose to not give in to the temptation.

“You’re only saying that because I’m leaving tomorrow,” you say, shaking your head. 

“Maybe,” he agrees.

And you know that– you know that if you weren’t leaving, he wouldn’t tell you that he loves you. He wouldn’t allow himself to be this vulnerable, he wouldn’t tell you how he feels about you, because he had all this time– all those months and weeks spent with you in his bed, and you know his touches weren’t just shallow desire– and he never once said anything. He didn’t do anything about it, and now that there is nothing more to do about it, nothing that could change the trajectory of either of your lives, he chooses to speak it to the universe; because it doesn’t change anything, it can’t possibly do so– and so he doesn’t have to fear the consequences, he doesn’t have to fear the attachment that comes with such confession.

And for a minute, you think it’s selfish. You think it’s laughable, ironic, even, but you accept it. 

His hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers with his when he launches you forward into him, arms gently enveloping your body when your head settles itself to the curve of his shoulder. You stay like this for a while, in his hold again, breathing in his scent and trying to remember it for weeks and months before you’re able to smell it again, letting out a nosy question out of your lips– and truly, you don’t know why you do so, when you know the answer to it already anyway. Maybe you just want to hear it again.

“So… you do have feelings for me too, after all?”

He stays quiet for a while, before he softly laughs into your hair. “Yeah,” he nods, “but it doesn’t matter, ‘cause you’re leaving for Yale tomorrow, aren’t you?”

And he’s right– you are. Thinking for a while, feeling him place a shy peck to the crown of your head– the only kiss you two allow yourselves at this point of time– you come to the conclusion that  even though you love him, care for him like you’ve never cared for another before, you wouldn’t change a thing about your plan– wouldn’t change the trajectory of your whole life, wouldn't stay in Shanghai, wouldn’t drop out of university, wouldn’t stop everything because of him, because in a way, you strangely have it all figured out. 

And he doesn’t.

And you pray that one day, he’ll find the purpose in all the potential he holds in his hands.

[peakyswritings]

Reb!! First i want to thank you for reading the last chapters of my thg! series i read your comments and 🥺❤️. Promise to reply them as soon as I can.

Then if your requests are still open, would you write a Tommy x Nina using this prompt:

"i’m only here for the dog cat"

Maybe it suits them 🤭❤️.

Thanks in advance! And of course there's no pressure at all!!

A/N: thank you so much for sending this, Flor!🤍 and don’t worry about the replies, I’m much behind with them myself! I made a little AU for this one, and I had so much fun writing this! (I also got a bit carried away and became longer than intended lmao)

Nina Ferrante is the OC from my Tommy Shelby x OC series Heart, Body and Soul. This is not set in the series universe, so even if you haven’t read the series, you can read this one.

Summary: the Ferrante family temporarily moves from Sicily to Birmingham to conduct business with Tommy Shelby. However, soon he finds himself stuck with something that doesn’t belong to him.

Warnings: mentions of violence/killing, English is not my first language, no proofreading.

Word count: 1.2k

Send me a prompt and I’ll write something short☀️

Nina regretted not wearing a coat the moment she stepped out the Midland Hotel. The cold hair cut through her clothes, pricking her skin like a thousand tiny needles, setting deep into her bones. It would take more than a week to get used to that kind of weather, or to the stench of coal and iron that permeated the air. Small Heath was unlike the Sicilian village she had grown up in, in many different ways. But as she hurried past the grey buildings, and the crowded houses, and the factories, she found herself unable to pay much attention to it, or to the mud sticking to her shoes. She couldn’t even pay attention to the glances the men around her shot at her. Winston was her only concern.

She had been looking for him in her hotel room for over an hour. Above the closet, under the bed, even in the unlit fireplace, but he was nowhere to be found. She was on the verge of a mental breakdown when the phone rang and a familiar voice on the other side informed her that a certain black cat had sneaked into his office. Nina shouldn’t have been surprised, though. During her family’s business meetings with Mr Thomas Shelby at the hotel, Winston had seemed to manifest a curiosity - maybe even a liking - towards the gangster.

When she walked past the doors of the Shelby Company Limited, a big man with a grim expression stopped in front of her. He cleared his throat, looking down at her. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to see Mr Shelby,” she ignored his question, going straight to the point. She didn’t have the time nor the will for the formalities, and she didn’t like the way the brute was clearly trying to intimidate her.

“What do you want with Mr Shelby?”

“He has something mine.”

The man squinted his eyes in confusion, probably wondering what Tommy Shelby could ever take from a girl like her. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it right away, as if in the middle of some kind of realisation. Nina could almost see his brain cells working to put the pieces together.

“You’re one of those wops,” he noted, and the hint of disgust in his voice was enough to send a wave of irritation through her. Before she had the chance to say something, he reached over to her. “I have to search you, miss.”

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself,” she spat, taking a step back. She glared at him, silently daring him to try and put his hands on her again. Search her. Like Hell.

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s the protocol, miss.”

“You can stick your protocol up yo-”

“The lady’s fine, Scudboat.” A deep voice interrupted her mid-sentence. Thomas Shelby was standing in the middle of the room, his hands in his pockets, and Nina wondered how it was possible that none of them had heard him arrive. “Let her pass.”

“Yes, sir.” With a single nod, Scudboat moved out of the way, finally allowing her to walk further into the room. “Good luck with this one,” he muttered under his breath as he took his place by the doors again.

A heavy silence fell into the room. Shelby’s icy stare was studying her as he had studied her father and brothers during their meetings, and she would’ve lied if he had said that the thing didn’t make her at least a bit uneasy. He carried himself as if he held all the cards, and everyone else was just another pawn in his game. Even when it wasn’t him who had the upper hand. However, in this case, he did have the upper hand. Maybe going into his territory all alone hadn’t been her best idea. But it was too late to panic, and she still had her knife, safely hidden in her pocket.

Behind his placid expression, Tommy was somewhat surprised to see Vincenzo Ferrante’s daughter herself. He had expected her to send her father, or her brothers. Instead, she had walked through the streets of Small Heath on her own, and entered the doors of his company as if she were untouchable. He didn’t know whether to define her stupid or brave for that. Reckless, for sure. Rather impressed, he granted himself a moment to observe her. Dark strands of hair had escaped her long braid, and her nose and cheeks had a tinge of red due to the cold. She hadn’t even bothered wearing a coat. She wasn’t exactly in the position to make threats, and yet she had held her own with one of his scariest men. She was quite something. The young woman wavered for an instant, then she straightened her back and raised her chin.

“I’d like my cat back.”

Tommy’s eyes stared deep into Nina’s, and she held his gaze with fiery determination. Noting she wouldn’t look away first, he simply turned around, motioning for her to follow him. After a moment of hesitation, she did as he said.

It took Nina a few seconds to adjust to the dim light that filtered through the shutters of Shelby’s office. It was fairly big, furnished in dark wooden furniture, and it smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and masculine cologne. His desk was scattered with papers and photographs, and a lit cigarette was still burning in an ashtray.

“There he is,” Tommy broke the silence, pointing to the dark fur ball curled up on one of the chairs.

Nina exhaled a sigh of relief, her heart finally finding some peace now that she knew for sure that her cat was safe. He was used to the peace of the Sicilian countryside, after all, and she wasn’t sure he’d survive the danger of the city. Winston raised his little head to look at her, but didn’t move from his comfortable spot. Traitor. He even meowed in protest when she went to grab him.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

Tommy Shelby, for his part, was looking at the scene with the shadow of a grin on his face. She was entertaining, that was sure. While she battled with the beast, he poured himself a glass of whiskey. “Want something to drink?”

“I’m only here for the cat.”

“Right,” he nodded, watching as she finally managed to pick up the animal. She snorted, pushing a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear.

With Winston tucked under her arm, Nina raised her gaze on Thomas. She couldn’t just go away without saying anything, right? He could’ve thrown the animal in the streets and leave him to his fate, after all. As if sensing she wanted to tell him something, Tommy patiently waited, but that only made the task of searching for something appropriate to say more difficult.

“Thank you.”

That was all. Nice and simple. Then she turned around and made her way towards the exit. But just as she was about to leave, a doubt arose in Nina’s mind, one she couldn’t help but voice. She stopped in her tracks, turning to look at him again. “How did you know what room I’m staying in anyway?”

“Ah,” Tommy scoffed, his lips curving in a smirk. “I own this city, sweetheart.”

“Scudboat,” Tommy called once Nina was out on the streets, catching the man’s attention. “Keep an eye on the girl, make sure she gets to the hotel safe. Can’t trust Birmingham.”

“Yes, sir,” the Blinder nodded, immediately going to obey the order.

“Oi,” Tommy called again, making him turn around. “Keep low and keep your distance, cause if she won’t kill you, her family will,” he warned him. “And you wouldn’t like the Italian way.”

Heart, Body and Soul taglist

@zablife @queenofshinigamis @raincoffeeandfandoms / @justrainandcoffee @call-sign-shark

@kmc1989 @babayaga67 @kmhappybunny240 @diorrfairy @mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@gaslysainz @brummiereader @loverhymeswith @fairypitou @prettywhenicry4

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @woofgocows @girlwith-thepearlearring @goblinjnr @outlanderuniverse

@citylights31 @neonpurplestars89-blog @red-riding-wood @evita-shelby

General tag list:

@iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys

@lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989

@call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe @ce1iat

@red-riding-wood @optimisticsandwichgladiator

Tommy Shelby taglist:

@50svibes

[presidenthades]

Finished the first big revision of Compromise Ch. 12! Maybe I will actually update before the end of the year. We’ll see how crazy Christmas is. But for now: behind-the-scenes commentary for Lavender Ch. 4.

Usual disclaimer that these thoughts aren’t necessarily canonical to the fic verse until/unless I write them into the actual story.

At the beginning of the chapter, we see one of Jace’s flaws: she hates bothering other people, even if it’s to her own detriment. She will defend and help other people, but girlie puts herself last. It’s an admirable trait until someone takes advantage of it, steadily isolating her while she refuses to complain, until she has no other options for friends…

When Aegon says his tearful “I’m sorry” litany, the last one is to the baby because he knows he fucked up and is going to be gone for the rest of the pregnancy. 😢

Jace in this universe, compared to Golds!Jace, feels way less empowered to push back against Viserys. She didn’t grow up in the Red Keep with him this time around.

Letting Jace pick Aegon’s outfit is always the way to go. 👌🏼 I couldn’t resist a dig at Aemond’s one leather outfit lol. As a prince he should have more clothes, but the 2010s black leather aesthetic is still going strong. I imagine his wardrobe is just twenty identical black leather outfits he rotates between.

The OG Rhaenys’s death is a really interesting mystery. Here, Aegon believes the version where Rhaenys was tortured until the Dornish forced the Conqueror to make peace before putting her out of her misery. His adventures in Dorne don’t explicitly contradict this version, and I was careful not to have the Dornish characters talk too much about it. But as the author, I’m not entirely sure this version is what really happened. 🧐

Anyway, as soon as I decided I was writing a Dorne arc, I knew I had to draw some Aegon I/Rhaenys and Aegon II/Jace parallels. I started laying the groundwork this chapter.

Jace has a fleeting thought about trimming Aegon’s hair before he leaves. This is a very niche and roundabout way to reference how much Aegon trusts her. Does anyone remember that GOT scene where Theon is shaving Ramsay, and he’s tempted to slit Ramsay’s throat? You have to really trust your barber, AKA the person wielding a very sharp blade against your face. Of course a prince would have a servant for this job, but I like to think Jace takes over Aegon’s shaving and haircuts as another form of intimacy. Also he prefers it when she does it.

Aegon’s memory of drunk Viserys calling him Baelon is why it reallyyyyy hurts when he thinks Jace named their baby Baelon. 😬

Jace has an easier pregnancy in this verse in large part because she doesn’t experience the traumatic events in The Golds. She also isn’t running herself ragged trying to do three people’s jobs.

Aegon and Jace’s confession scene makes me feel so warm and fuzzy. 😭 Aegon is the heir to the throne, but he’s still worried he’s too dumb for his smart wife. Luckily Jace understands that there’s different types of intelligence other than book smarts. Also, he’s 1000% serious about Jace sitting on him on the Iron Throne lmao.

Their little shepherd and shopgirl daydream is something I am REALLY tempted to write in an Ancient Valyria AU. Aegon actually seems he would enjoy being a shepherd; he gets to run around all day, and he can even play music when the sheep are grazing. No paperwork or meetings.

At one point while writing this fic, I considered a plot point where Jace rejects Larys, and in retaliation he forges evidence that she and Criston (who is frequently guarding her alone) are having an affair. It ended up not fitting in the overall story so I nixed it, but sometimes I wonder how that would’ve turned out.

Aemond and Luce definitely made out prior to the scene where everyone is saying goodbye.

Aegon really appreciated Jace’s “I’ll miss you” because it was very honest and unfiltered. She genuinely meant it, and even though he hates leaving, it makes him feel better knowing that he’ll be missed.

Cheeseball kicked because he telepathically knew his daddy was waving goodbye. 😭

Jace wishes for an ally on the Small Council, but as the saying goes, be careful what you wish for. 👀 Now that Aegon is gone, Larys feels bold enough to make a move and send her the note.

Luce doesn’t think anyone on the Small Council noticed her, but Larys somehow knew she was there instead of Jace. That’s when Larys decides he needs to get rid of Jace’s sisters and cousins.

The spicy squid and pepper dish was targeting Baela and Rhaena. There was the risk the other girls might eat some, but Larys was confident that Jace, being pregnant, would refrain from a strange dish.

Criston has very little reason to be mean to the Velargirls in this verse. He barely knows them, and they’re Laenor’s kids so he doesn’t have his canon resentment about their parentage. He is able to treat his assignment guarding Jace as simply a job; it helps that she’s very easy to guard. Their conversation by the twins’ sickbed helps him get to know her a bit better, and he sees that she’s conscientious of duty, which he appreciates. He also admires Jace’s intelligence as she works through her thoughts about the investigation. Unfortunately, just as he’s warming up to her, he remembers the last time he was too friendly with a Targ princess (Rhaenyra) and immediately backtracks. ☹️ RIP Jace and Criston’s friendship.

Poor innocent cook Jorgen was killed as part of Larys’s plot, because he needed to throw doubt on whether High Tide would be safer for Jace. If a cook who worked at High Tide from years seems complicit in the poisoning, then maybe it’s best to just keep Jace in the Red Keep.

Jace is extremely relieved when her parents and grandparents arrive to assume responsibility. It can be easy to forget that she’s only 16, yet she’s been shouldering so many burdens on her family’s behalf.

Velaryons try to make a break for it, but the master of whisperers prepared for the possibility. When Viserys glances around him, once again he glances at Larys, whom he confides in a lot more in this verse.

Patriarchy in action this chapter! Women have to belong to somebody. Jace is married, so she belongs to her husband’s family now, not her father’s family. Ergo, she goes where the Targs want. Jace doesn’t like it, but she understands this is the way of things, so she tries to defuse the situation.

Note how Viserys says “your daughter has faith in my guards and whisperers.” 🧐

When Rhaenyra realizes she won’t be allowed to bring Jace back to Driftmark, she decides to stay with Jace instead. She’s determined not to leave Jace alone in the Red Keep…although that changes after the big fight. 😢

Luce also gets a taste of being dragged around by the patriarchy. She wants to stay with Jace, but Corlys says no, and the patriarch is always right.

Criston really doesn’t like Rhaenyra (the feeling is mutual), but he still has a job to do. 😩 Even though Criston has drawn hard boundaries, Jace is still attached to him because Aegon picked Criston for her. She has this feeling that if Criston is guarding her, then Aegon is indirectly keeping her safe.

Jace loves and misses her mom…but she can still find her mom smothering. 😅 As mentioned above, Jace has been shouldering a lot of burdens, so she feels like she’s grown up a lot and deserves to be treated as an adult/Rhaenyra’s equal. Rhaenyra still sees her as her baby though.

Even though Rhaenyra thinks poorly of Alicent, she sincerely believed that Alicent would treat Jace well (which Alicent has), so Rhaenyra feels betrayed (a bit irrationally, maybe) that Alicent has “allowed” the poisoning attempts.

Meanwhile Alicent is desperate to rekindle her friendship with Rhaenyra—but she has her limits (in this non-canon universe at least…) and gets annoyed when Rhaenyra keeps snarking about Aegon for no good reason.

“Aemond always has to suffer before he learns.” Helaena dropping truth bombs 💥.

Rhaenyra thinks Mysaria (before Mysaria fled) was the one informing her about Aegon’s doings, like the rumors about him boasting to his friends about having sex with Jace in the Small Council chamber. But we learn from Mysaria later that she only wrote one letter to Rhaenyra, which said that Aegon really liked Jace. This discrepancy is due to Larys of course. 🤧 I imagine even now, while Rhaenyra is in the Red Keep, Larys is planting more of these seeds to sow discord between her and Jace.

“We are the eternal bedrock beneath your feet. But a man like Aegon? The promises of devotion he has written in the sand will wash away with the tide.” Rhaenyra has picked up on the Velaryons’ maritime metaphors ahahah.

When Jace lashes out about Rhaenyra being abandoned by Daemon, we see that Jace does have a capacity for cruelty, and boy can she hit where it hurts. But she doesn’t like being cruel, so she feels sorry about it immediately (lucky for Westeros). Rhaenyra is human too, however, and her reaction is to run away and lick her wounds. She also can’t help tossing that final barb, “I trust that Her Grace will treat you like her own daughter”; if Jace is so defensive of Alicent, then maybe Jace should go to Alicent instead when she needs a mother. Rhaenyra regrets all these things once she gets to Driftmark. But Larys interferes with Jace’s apology raven, so Rhaenyra never realizes Jace wants her back.

Once again, we see one of Jace’s flaws—being her own worst critic—causing trouble for her. When she doesn’t receive any messages from the Velaryons, she believes it must be because she really is a bad daughter and they don’t want her anymore.

Helaena’s riddle is a reference to Larys, who has a firefly insignia on his cane. “Some glow green, but others glow yellow like false gold.” These are references to Team Green (which doesn’t exist in this verse, but that was Larys’s side in canon) and Team Gold (Larys pretending he’s on Jace’s side).

I have a lot of thoughts about the logistics of the Kingsguard. The seven of them can guard just the king at all hours of the day and night; they can work in shifts. But when you spread them out to the rest of the royal family, the shifts are harder to manage. They’re human, they have to eat and sleep. In this chapter, I show that even though Criston does his best to guard Jace, he can’t do it alone. He tries to vary when he rests, so sometimes he takes his break in the daytime, sometimes at night. Larys sneaks in to meet Jace when Criston isn’t there, because Criston would be more suspicious of him than a regular guard.

Larys approaching Jace at the weirwood is a parallel to him approaching Alicent at the weirwood in early S1.

“The sigil of House Strong winked at her, as if telling her a secret.” Note that Larys’s hand wearing his signet ring is resting on his cane, which has the firefly sigil.

Larys knows how to flatter Jace and start winning her over. She wants to be acknowledged as intelligent and capable, so he does that. He also knows that she’s fallen for Aegon, so he uses info about Aegon to manipulate her.

See Chapter 5 commentary here.

[soulsty]

....dude Fi was designed to look 13-14 according to the devs. it's really creepy that you ship her with anyone tbh, ESPECIALLY Ghirahim. she's literally a child. says a lot about you imo

Alright alright alright, let’s clear this up.

!DISCLAIMER BEFORE I START!

Do not mistake this post as me trying to excuse weird shit. Ew. I hate pro-shipping. Get it away from me.

Now into the nitty gritty-

Quoting DIRECTLY, from Hyrule Historia, it is on my lap as we speak

“• Looks 13 or 14”

Does this concept art look a lot like our finalized Fi design? Yes it does. This is the second closest to the finalized version in the book

So let’s go over more of this, and the several reasons why I think this isn’t canon.

“• metallic texture”

That didn’t stick around. I often joke that everything in Skyward Sword looks like it’s made out of fondant, and while her clothing does, her skin and wings looks much closer to porcelain.

“• a naive cuteness”

uhh, sure? She never seemed naive to me, but she is still cute so… that stuck I guess?

I don’t need to go over the last bullet point, because that is just true lmao

But here’s the kicker! Right?

“Like the Fairy Queen in Wind Waker”

The Fairy Queen is obviously a child. We know this, look at her, she also flirts with 12 year old Link iirc

But what makes this design look like the fairy queen? The hair does, it’s exactly the same, just parted on the opposite side. The grey-blue color is really similar. Her… eyes? But wait… that’s the same eye type as the regular Great Fairies? And Ghirahim?

She didn’t even carry over the circular toon style eyes in her final design

I’m pretty sure I could assume the Great Fairies in WW are meant to be adults right? Other versions always have been, and they very clearly look like an older version of the Fairy Queen… so why does Fi’s finalized design actually look a bit more like them? From the pointed eyes to the strong nose-to-eyebrow ridge, she’s starting to look less like the Queen to me…

But let’s go back to the concept art. What else does it say?

These are the same design as the other one that says she looks 13-14, just a bit less detailed

hmm… huh… that’s interesting. Her gem changes color? Well, that’s not canon

Wait what? “Connected to the arm, which is why it bends.” She has arms under her wings?

THEY TOOK HER GODDAMN ARMS

So yeah, in that same design where she “looks 13 or 14” she had arms. Do with that what you will

How about we dive even deeper into Fi’s concept art, hmm?

It seems pretty clear to me that she wasn’t meant to be a child character from the start, some of these designs appear child-like (the one next to the iron man design in particular), but lots of these are also just women

But okay, okay, let’s take a step back from Fi’s concept art. How about Ghirahim’s, what does his say?

The same age as Link? This mfer is 17?? Jesus Christ, talk about the jock kid in high school

Jokes aside, I don’t believe that, he refers to Link as a child the entire time, all of his concept art pre-finalized, just looks like old men, so I assume that moreso meant they were straying away from that design element.

I would also like to mention that Ghirahim’s concept art states in his sword form “He shows emotion without using his eyes”

While very clearly showing a picture of him expressing with his eyes, something that remains consistent in-game as well. So this could be translation error, or just… idk honestly it just doesn’t really make sense lmao

The tl;dr of all this concept art talk is this:

Don’t take concept art as fact. As an artist, concept art is literally that. A concept. I have made designs with elements that have been changed drastically by the finalized version. It’s all a process.

SO! Now that we’re done with the concept art, let’s actually move to references from the game.

At the beginning of the game, this is said, by Gaepora and Fi

Link is referred to as “a/the youth” multiple times, as opposed to Fi being referred to once as “youthful in likeness yet wise with knowledge immeasurable.”

Youthful in likeness. Not an actual youth, and the youthful in likeness thing could not even necessarily tie back to saying she looks 13-14, just that she looks young. Youthful is a very large age-range after all.

My second point about in-game… Scrapper. This doesn’t really lead too far, because we have no idea how “old” Scrapper is “supposed to be”, he’s a robot, he has less of an age than Ghirahim and Fi, BUT he’s allowed to be an absolute simp, to the point of calling her “Mistress” non-stop, so idk, that just doesn’t read as something a child would go through to me.

UPDATE: more evidence on the front of Scrapper, when he firsts meets Link, he explicitly doesn’t want to help Link because, and I quote “Serving children is very low in my task priority.” Then Fi appears, blah blah blah, you can’t carry the windmill propeller in your pouch, right? Then Scrapper says “Who are you!?” And does what I can only describe as his version of an AWOOGA (what being “zrrt-FWOOOSH”, paraphrased) and continues, “Your name is…Fi? Should I call you Mistress Fi? Are you looking for something Mistress Fi? …I…understand. At your request, I will carry anything, regardless of weight or destination…”

So there you go, serving children is very low in his priority, Hylia was around at the same time the LD units were active, so Hylia would’ve known about the Scrapper units priorities, (assuming they all have the same priority list) so why would she make a child? Just why? And in the same vein, why would Hylia make her servant sword-spirit a child in the first place, that doesn’t make any sense 😭

Looping back around to where this all started, what does “looks 13 or 14” even specifically mean? She looks that age, not she is that age. And I’m not going to go Lolicon topic with this, I’m not here to say “she’s like 1,000 years old! So of course she isn’t a child!” I’m here to say, lots of people look older, or younger than they actually are. She’s almost the same height as Link, so if she were meant to be around his age, she’d probably be around 16, and if she’s 16, and Ghirahim is 17 according to his concept art, where did your argument go?

Speaking realistically, Hylia probably designed her to look young and ‘cute’ so she wouldn’t scare Link. Let’s be real, her personality is intimidating, and she was going to be projecting herself into his dreams, so if she had a intimidating appearance (like some of her old concepts), Link would probably be afraid of her.

That’s all. I could go deeper into some of these points, and add on other things, but I think some stuff is self-explanatory.

Now, even if you want to discredit everything I just said, Ghirahim and Fi are both adults in all of my work. Unless explicitly stated or shown otherwise.

I draw and write them how I envision them in my head. In Skyward Sword, I have always read both of them as adults. I have not aged-up Fi for this ship, that’s fucking weird. They are both adults.

[krysmcscience]

Threw together a design concept for a character in Breach who hasn't directly shown up yet, but has been mentioned a few times - a space pirate who goes by Cosmo Grimdark because he's a cringey douchelord whom I wish to slap a whole lot. :3c He'll very likely be showing up in person a few chapters from now, and making life very difficult (read: annoying) for Red and Shio specifically.

(You can read Breach here, but mind the tags!)

Deets and random goofy stuff under the cut if anyone cares, lmao

Cosmo is...a lot, as a character, so his design had to match the energy he brings to the table. I mean, this is a guy who carved an entire asteroid into the shape of his dick, and then, as if that wasn't enough, had an elaborate penis museum built inside of it, too. Ironically, despite what this and his overall design might suggest, he is very much Not Queer - he is possibly my most straight cis character, in fact. (He will bang anyone as long as they have a cooch and meet the rest of his standards, but he will also still consider the encounter as 'straight' regardless of what his partner's actual gender is, despite that he...still...refers to them by their preferred gender. So...yeah. He's. Certainly a character. o-o)

I drew a decent amount of inspiration from one of @fluttersprite's old characters, Space Devil - in that, while trying to decide on Cosmo's whole deal, I thought 'What if Space Devil, but 70% less LOL RANDOM, 50% more Violence, and 100% more Disaster Scene Goth/Punk with delusions of artistic grandeur?' So...yeah. That's how this guy happened. XD

Also, just because, have this snippet from Breach's outline of an interaction Qīng and some other mains get to have with this guy somewhere in the third act of the story (pay no mind to the brief reference to a super minor character who shows up in the second act, lmao):

Shio, tugging Red into the room: Jasper – I’ll need you to keep an eye on our problem. Red, frowning at Shio: And which problem is that, exactly? (stops short upon seeing that Qīng is standing next to Cosmo, who has already intentionally butchered Red's alias twice now) ...Oh. <:[ Cosmo, one hand up high in greeting: EYYYY! If it isn’t Ass Pert again! :D Red, stunning Shio by turning around and walking out: Nnnnope. Have fun, Qīng. Cosmo, before Qīng can even say anything: We will! Thanks, Ass Pert! Qīng, biting his lip as he watches Red abscond faster: He does have a nice ass… Shio, glowering warily between the two humans when Cosmo snickers: You’d better not have too much fun together. Cosmo, rolling his eyes: Dude, I ain’t even gay. [Shio just scoffs, like that means nothing, and heads off after Red with their arms tightly crossed.] Qīng, with a skeptical look Cosmo’s way: Didn’t you put together a whole museum of dicks inside your magnum opus? Cosmo, sharply grinning: You mean my Magnum Penis? Sure fukken did. Qīng, hoping he’s not about to get shivved: Doesn’t that seem...I dunno...a little bit gay? Cosmo, flapping a hand: Nah, little man, you just ain’t seein’ my artistic vision. All those dicks? They are so insignificant that mine dwarfs them in scale, and eats them up like a shark does chum. The closest they’ll ever get to greatness? Being overshadowed by mine. (claps Qing on the shoulder) And that’s why the museum’s called Penis Envy. Qīng: ...Right, well, I still think that’s kinda gay, too, but, uh. That’s all secondary, because I’m starting to think you might be Ghost’s long-lost twin. Or that your souls are identical clones of each other somehow. Or that you’re just, straight up the same person and that’s why I haven’t seen his stupid face around yet. Cosmo, clearly only hearing parts of that: Hey, yeah, Ghost! We text sometimes. (looking around) Where’s he at, anyway? Gotta tell that weird twink his clothes are shit. Qīng, glancing down at Cosmo’s ridiculous punk-goth attire, then back up: Do you...really gotta? <:\ Cosmo: Look, it’s either that, or Crink ain’t ever gonna shut up about it. I know Ghost’s gonna tell ‘em I was here. Qīng, flatly: You’re all in a group chat together, aren’t you. Cosmo, grinning wider: If by group chat you mean degenerate slur party, then fuck yeah. So if you don’t mind, are you gonna tell me where he’s at already or what? I need to go pay him back for telling me I dress like whatever a ‘dykerocket’ is, and I need to do that by telling him he’s a twink-ass bitch who wears more hole than fabric. Qīng, weighing that for a moment, before shrugging: Sure, I’m down to watch a murder today. I can find where he’s at on the roster. Cosmo, phone already out: Nah. Textin’ him. Qīng: ...Why’d you even ask? u.u

And then Cosmo and Ghost proceed to have a very heterosexual wrestling match on a cafeteria table. The end! :D

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

Alright fine, two people seemed interested in this meta so I’ll try and take a stab at it while I’m still awake. I feel like it’s going to be a bit anticlimactic though because it’s more like two separate but interconnected character studies than anything else. (I think people were expecting something else, I’m so sorry 🥲).

This is about to be really messy, I’m running on caffeine, dreams, and The Yearning™️.

“We’re both lonely” hits me as so tragic because Edwin is acknowledging his and The Cat King’s inherent sameness in that moment.

The obvious answer is they both experience desire (to some degree) in a similar way— they’re both queer, and they’re both lonely. I’ve also wondered if there was something more to that comment.

Edwin tells The Cat King “You play games. And change outfits. You chase toys to distract yourself from it. You were right. We are a lot alike.“

As an aside, one could argue Edwin does many of these things too. He “plays” detective. He changes outfits (see: the first attempted confession scene, with Charles). He and Charles also sometimes accept toys as a form of payment (see: cursed magic 8-ball). 

Perhaps Edwin was building rapport before he laid on the heavy reality that they’re both crushingly lonely, or perhaps he just didn’t realize how astute he was being. 

This is where their paths diverge though, and where things get even more complex.

The Cat King Handles his loneliness with attempts at seduction. When that doesn’t work, he’ll create situations where he can continue engaging and toying his current interest. (See: the bracelet).

The scene where he’s shape shifting feels poignant to me. Yes, we see how it served Edwin. It told him more about what he wanted and who he wanted it from. But what about The Cat King? If we look at this from the perspective of a queer person dating, it’s a moment where someone is bending and twisting themselves into something more palatable for the object of their desires. What do you want me to be, said every vers ever. It’s sad, in a way. You’re not their first choice, but you can emulate their first choice somehow.

You’re not even their second choice actually (see: Monty in the woods). And even if you get more assertive and point out why their second best was a bad idea, they still won’t pick you. Ouch.

(My only real outstanding question here is does Thomas want a long term partner, or is he just particularly offended Edwin wasn’t charmed by him for some reason? Either way, I do believe he toys with people because he’s probably a little lonely reigning over only cats, as wonderful as they are).

Onto Edwin. 

Edwin’s loneliness breaks my heart in a special way— he’s in love with his best friend. This is a special kind of loneliness because you are lonely when the object of your desire is right next to you, and maybe even engaging with you sometimes. You’re lonely in the kind of way that you have no right to ask them to fix.

Edwin has probably just admitted that he’s lonely to himself and to The Cat King. I’m not sure how he’ll deal with this going forward, but we get little clues about how he is faring with his loneliness. 

He tries to impress Charles. First he thinks perhaps he can put things back to the way they were. He does little tricks like mirror hopping, sticking his hand through iron bars, tricking a cat into giving up information, in hopes that they’ll end up back together as just a pair again. This does not work. He has to accept this and change tactics.

He changes outfits. This is an interesting one because it was a very deliberate choice by George for Edwin to change clothes to get Charles’ attention. In his mind this works, actually— he has Charles’ full attention in that moment.

It also inadvertently works again in hell, but probably more because Charles has come to rescue him (and not because he’s in his sleepwear/undershirt lmao, that is just coincidental here). Confessing on the stairs probably does not have quite the desired result, but it doesn’t end horrendously either. (I have my theories on why Charles responded the way he did. One of them is in this meta).

But where he diverges from The Cat King, and where I think this hits a lot harder, is that Edwin is surrounded by friends and not cats— but none of them are quite experiencing love or queerness like he is (to our knowledge). 

This isn’t to say Edwin doesn’t care about his friends. He is in love with Charles, he does ultimately want Crystal to stay at the agency, and he genuinely enjoys Niko and will miss her. He has formed real relationships with them. However, the fact that he’s going through queerness mostly isolated from his friends, on top of dealing with adjusting to sharing his best friend after thirty some years (and possibly seeing himself as less important than their new additions) further adds to that loneliness. These are two big changes that are hard to navigate and hard to talk about. 

Charles didn’t seem to want to talk on the roof when Edwin tried to re-initiate that conversation (they do have a problem talking about heavy things, although one could interpret what he was doing as trying to be reassuring).

Anyway, now Edwin can’t even talk to Niko about the whole thing. I think he genuinely would have liked to be friends with Monty, because it’s hard unpacking these experiences alone (he seems to be trying to work through he thoughts with him on the swings, but Monty misreads a little). But, then again, he is a crow. (I would be friends with Monty even though he’s a crow).

So that’s what I have. I guess to sum this up The Cat King is the kind of lonely that happens when you’re chasing after and trying to be more palatable for people that were never going to put you first.

Edwin is the kind of lonely that happens when you don’t fit where you used to, where you’re supposed to, and maybe if you hadn't said anything at all you'd still belong and maybe the world wasn’t made for you but it was eating you alive and don’t you deserve to love fully?

Maybe. 

you know, I was going to write a really long meta about this but I don’t have it in my right now because The Sadness™️ has hit at just the right angle but:

I think there’s something quintessential to the queer experience about Edwin telling The Cat King “we’re both lonely”.

I’m a payneland truther and all but… this scene punches me in the gut and catapults me back to being a lonely gay in a small town every time.

[sanjisblackasswife]

DON'T tell me you too hc Shanks as the shameless pervert??!! Like the type that's very comfortable with sex and very experienced DILF lmao 😭

Corruption kink?? I thought it was obvious 🙄

That guy could talk about the nastiest kink the same way he talks about the groceries 😩 "...and then she nearly passed out! Haha, I think it's cuz she had all her holes-" "SHANKS-!! OMG- YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!!" but you low-key love it when he does

😭😭😩😩

A/N: YKW…. if you don’t mind imma use your amazing response to blast Shanks kinks because why not Ahahah

Shanks Kinks/What Turns Him On (NSFW)

Black Fem Reader in Mind

CW: KINKS, It’s Pretty Short General List, I Believe He Has More, But These Scream “Shanks”💀

Kinks:

Corruption Kink: He will swear up and down that he doesn’t have one of you tell him, corruption? Absolutely not he loves women he would never—

Shanks loves seeing a pretty innocent thing like yourself not having a clue in the world how to please a man. He can get off on the thought alone of how embarrassed you’d be learning about taking his cock and not knowing how to handle it and so after one night of partying and charming he starts you off by having you face the mirror in his room, air making your nipples erect and naked on his clothed lap. “There you go…ah ah keep looking in the mirror for me.” He guides your hand to rub your clit teaching you how to touch yourself, “It’s okay you can cum…” You whine and grind your hips on his and your own hand. It won’t be long until he shows you how to properly use your mouth. Knowing he took something so important and sacred is a form of ownership that he gets riled up of feeling.

Exhibitionism: Shanks has little to any care about the consequences of ignorant decisions. He could care less.

He totally doesn’t mind a show as long as said person doesn’t get too close. There are plenty of times Shanks didn’t have time to take a woman back to the ship or the hotel and just did a quickie in a bar hallway or an alleyway. Ironically he still haven’t been caught.

Dirty Talk: If he is feeling sweet he will describe what he is going to do to you, but if he is feeling like a little brat he won’t be above making you describe to him what you want him to do—

“Yeah? And then what?” You’ve been on the edge for what seems hours with his fingers and tongue switching places in your aching cunt. Your legs were embarrassingly spread open because he tied them up at the end of the bed posts. He constantly swirlied the tip of his wet muscle on your clit, driving you mad, you could have just grabbed his head to shove his entire mouth inside you, but you knew better than to disobey Shanks. “Then….I—ah! Want you…” “Want me to what, darling? Hold you? Feed you?—“ “Fuck me, Shanks! I want you to fuck me with you cock please!!”

Breeding: I mean is this even—-hello..he’s a certified dilf.

Ironically he does try to practice safe sex when he used to screw random women on the grand line, but Shanks has no problem with fucking the woman he loves raw. When he is close your body is pulled in even closer, he’ll be damned if any of his seed is wasted. His arm pushes your pelvis higher into his, this is usually when he starts to make more noise grunts and cursing in your ear. He wants you to cum with him because the feeling of how you clench still sucking him and his cum in makes his mind go numb. Sometimes if any does drip out he’ll scoop it and finger it back in you regardless of the painful overstimulation. Because he hates to waste.

What Turns Him On:

Walking around naked: I mean it’s pretty obvious pretty much any man loves to see their woman naked, but when he is greeted with you in nothing, but your ass as you bend over the bed to grab something, he won’t think twice to fuck you right there with his cock out of his pants, too eager to get completely nude.

Teasing Him: He is the master at making you flustered. Even though it’s damn near impossible to make him blush even when he’s drunk, It’s just something about when you feel bold enough to say something back at him or even whisper in his ear how badly you need him that really perks up an honest smile and an honest hard on.

The Way You Moan His Name: He cannot get enough of it. It’s so soft, and breathless sometimes while he is in missionary with you he will groan in your ear “Say my name.” Repeatedly Sometimes you can use it to tease him in public to rile him up. Fair warning though, if he is in a slightly annoyed mood you’ll pay for it later.

[girasollake]

rather be | e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem! reader

requested: yes

type: somewhere between angst and fluff i guess

summary: you go to a party feeling good about yourself. however your confidence which was already fragile, breaks completely after your unpleasant encounter with jason. after that you go to eddie, because he’s the only person who praises how you look like

warnings: fat shaming obvi, curse words, mention of alcohol, i think thats it

a/n: this was easy for me to write cause i feel like that and i based this fic a bit off of my own past with people saying shit, and the part with eddie is based on some of the convos i usually have with my boyfriend lmao, hope you guys will like it!

word count: around 2,200

You plopped down on your bed after a long day of school. Looking around your room you started thinking about what to wear for the approaching party at Nina’s. She was a popular girl on the cheer team but her popularity didn’t change her. She still remained a kind, nice girl who invited to every party most of the people from school, no matter their social background and status. You had never been to parties like that and decided to finally break that cycle. You even asked Eddie to come with you, but he refused. He had a performance at The Hideout and even though he wanted to go with you, he simply couldn’t. What’s more, parties like that weren’t his thing as well so he wasn’t that sad about not going. You didn’t blame him, you understood. After some time of thinking about outfits you finally got up and walked over to you closet. For about twenty minutes you had been throwing your clothes out of it to find something perfect but nothing seemed to meet your standards. That was until you spotted a black material at the bottom of your drawer. You pulled it out and tried it on immediately. It was a dress your favorite auntie had gifted you for your 17th birthday and surprisingly it still fitted. You had never worn it out though, you didn’t have a lot of confidence back in the day. But all of this had changed when you had met Eddie. He had shown you how beautiful you are every day and you were extremely grateful for that. He had helped you built up some of that confidence however you often still felt insecure. You were grateful for his actions, his words, but demons from the past were still haunting you and it felt impossible to get rid of them completely. When you put on this dress, they left for a moment. You felt pretty. You felt beautiful. You felt sexy. Smiling to yourself you took it off and went to the living room to iron it. After doing that you hung it on your mirror and then started doing your makeup.

☽ ☽ ☽

Your mom gave you a ride to the party. She insisted on you wearing some kind of jacket because it was immensely cold outside and the dress wasn’t covering your arms. You obeyed and took your black denim jacket, which was actually Eddie’s. Let’s just say, he thinks it disappeared under suspicious circumstances and doesn’t know who has it.

‘Call me if you need anything, okay honey?’ Your mom asked when you opened the door.

‘I’m gonna be fine mum.’ You replied.

‘I know.’ She gave you a small smile. ‘I just don’t want you to get hurt like last time. Kids are mean these days.’

‘I won’t get hurt.’ You got out of the car. ‘See you later mom!’

‘Bye, darling!’ You closed the door and looked at her one last time before she drove away.

A sigh escaped your lips when you saw all the people entering the place. You also felt this tight feeling in your chest when you saw all of the conventionally attractive skinny girls standing everywhere. No, (Y/n). Stop it. You look nice. For once just have fun. You thought and with that you entered Nina’s house. You wanted to find your friends but no one seemed to be around. You searched the crowds for any sign of Robin or Steve, they weren’t anywhere. Well, they were somewhere, but with so many people in a huge house like that it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Finally, you found the kitchen and saw some beers next to the fridge. You grabbed one and headed somewhere else while also taking off your jacket. You wanted to have a good time and you were kind of enjoying yourself when you had found someone to talk to. It didn’t last long because when you went to get yourself another drink you bumped into someone.

‘Oh shoot, I’m so sorry.’ You mumbled and looked up to see Jason standing in front of you.

‘Yeah, you should be.’ He hissed and then looked you up and down. ‘Damn, you’re brave for wearing that.’ He snickered. ‘Ayo, boys, come check this out!’

You were confused. Why were you brave for wearing a dress? A cute one, at that.

‘What do you mean?’ You chuckled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

‘I just think people like you shouldn’t wear dresses like this. You’re giving it a bad look.’

‘Excuse me? What do you mean by “people like me”? You whispered but tried your best for it to sound at least a bit intimidating.

‘I think you know exactly what I mean, piggy.’ He whispered straight into your face.

You heard all of his friends laughing behind and you felt your face getting hot.

‘What? Gonna cry?’ He asked when he saw your eyes filling up with tears.

‘You’re such a son of a bitch.’ You muttered. ‘I look nice.’

His laughter filled up the whole room, ‘I don’t know who told you that, but they have a bad taste. The dress would be nice if someone like Chrissy was wearing it, not you. Don’t flatter yourself.’ He remarked. ‘Now go change or leave before I’ll throw up by just looking at you.’

You turned around and ran away, tears streaming down your face and messing up your makeup. You went to the nearest bus stop and found the route that would take you to The Hideout. After fifteen minutes of silently crying on the bus you stepped out of it and headed to the pub. Then you realised how you must look. You retreated and started looking for Eddie’s van in the small parking lot, you spotted it almost immediately. You walked over to it and sat down on the cold pavement with your back pressed to the vehicle. It was in fact freezing and you were glad your mom had made you take that jacket. You covered your face with your hands and started sobbing again, you wondered why some people were that mean. You had started healing from the last time it happened and now everything hit you twice as hard.

‘Come onnn, I don’t want to be late mom!’ A twelve year old you tugged on her sweater.

‘Okay, okay, get in the car, I’ll be right there.’ She replied and went back to the conversation she was having on the phone.

You took the present in your hands and headed outside. You were going to a friend’s birthday party and you were even more excited because your crush was going as well. You smoothed out your dress and held the present tightly in your hands when your mom entered the car. The ride went rather quickly, maybe due to your happiness and excitement overwhelming you slightly. You got out of the car and knocked on the door.

‘Hi! Happy Birthday, Joe!’ You cheered and have the boy a quick hug along with the present.

‘Thank you, (Y/n/n).’ He smiled and let you in.

You went inside and greeted your other friends, along with the boy you fancied. You were having nice time talking, gossiping and laughing with your female friends when the boys went to a different room. After a while you decided to go to the bathroom and sadly, walk next to the room they were in.

‘Man, I can’t believe you invited her.’ You heard your crush speaking.

‘What do you mean? She’s nice.’ Joe replied. ‘She’s my friend.’

‘Yeah, but don’t you worry that she’s gonna eat all the food?’ Your crush snickered.

‘To be honest I thought that the floor would collapse when she entered your home.’ Another boy peeped in.

‘Who are you guys talking about?’ Another voice asked.

‘Oh, (Y/n) (L/n). I mean it’s not hard to not know which one it is.’ They all laughed and you tried your best to hold it together.

You didn’t want to go to the toilet anymore, you wanted your mom. So that’s why you went over to the house phone and quickly called her number. Soon enough, when she heard you crying, she was there to get you.

All of the memories came back to you at once when Jason had said those words. You just wished Eddie would finish his gig and go outside to get you before you freeze to death. You almost wanted to go inside and get him, but that would be unfair. He deserved to play with his friends and have fun, you didn’t want him to leave them because of you. You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to heat yourself up while you were waiting.

‘(Y/n/n)?’ You looked up and saw Eddie heading your way, it was nice that you didn’t have to wait that long for him. ‘What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be at that party or something?’

‘Ye-ah. I was.’

‘Is everything okay? Shit, were you crying?’ He asked when he finally approached you. ‘Oh god, what is that dress? It looks hella amazing on you, baby.’

‘Don’t lie Eddie.’ You whispered and shook your head.

‘I’m not. Why would you think that?’ He asked and furrowed his brows, and when you didn’t reply he continued. ‘Did someone say something?’

You nodded your head and a few tears fell down your face, ‘I just wanted to feel pretty for once.’

‘Hey, hey, don’t fucking say that. You are pretty, you always are.’ He said and brought you into his arms, your cries echoing throughout the parking lot. ‘Who said something?’

‘Jason.’ You whispered. ‘He said I-.. I shouldn’t be wearing that dress. Because I make it look bad.. And-.. And it would look better on someone like Chrissy.’

‘That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve ever heard.’ He replied instantly. ‘The dress is nothing without you and you are the one that makes it look so hot. Jason is a dick who doesn’t know shit. He just likes to talk down on other people, don’t think about his words.’

‘You don’t understand Eds..’ You sobbed. ‘I can’t stop thinking about all of the situations that have made me the insecure person that I am. The memories are replaying in my head every second and it sucks. It fucking sucks because they are consuming me and even though I have memories of you telling me the good stuff, it’s not fucking enough. The thoughts are always there, always, and I can’t push myself to think about my body the way you do. I just can’t…’ You snuggled your face closer to his chest and let him stroke your back delicately. ‘I’m so sick of feeling like this Eds, and I can’t stop it, I don’t know how to stop it. Every time I start to feel better it consumes me over and over again, and today just… It broke me even more than I already was. I don’t want you to see me the same way they do.’

He pulled away from you and grabbed your face in his hands, ‘Listen, okay? I do not care what anyone thinks of you. I love you. I have never met a person more perfect than you. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I love your body, every fucking inch of it, you hear me? Every. Fucking. Inch. They can show me thousands of models with those so called ‘perfect bodies’ and I’ll still choose you, because to me it is your body that is perfect, no one else’s. I know I can’t make you look at yourself like I see you, but I’m willing to try even more. You deserve to see yourself like I see you. Fuck them. Fuck Jason. Fuck anyone who thinks they can comment on what you look like. Okay?’ He finished and you just nodded while trying to process it all. ‘Repeat after me, ok? I am beautiful.’

‘Eddie, I ca-‘

‘Shut up. I am beautiful.’

‘I am.. not.’

‘(Y/n) I swear to god I’m going to drive you over with my van.’ He threatened. ‘Say the fucking sentence.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Yes you can.’

‘Can we go? I’m freezing.’

‘Not until you say it.’

‘I don’t want to say it Eddie.’ You cried.

‘You can do it, (Y/n/n). You know why? Because you are beautiful.’

‘I am…’ You whispered and swallowed thick saliva. ‘…beautiful.’

‘See? Was it that hard?’ He asked and kissed the top of your head. ‘I’m gonna keep making you say that until you believe it yourself.’

You groaned and hit his chest with your head. You didn’t know how to feel because a part of you felt like you didn’t deserve his help and kind words, the other however, it was grateful for his determination to try and change your way of thinking.

‘You ready to go home?’ He asked.

‘Can I stay at yours?’

‘Of course, sweetheart.’

You chuckled, ‘I thought that nickname was reserved for your guitar?’

‘Things change, now shut up and get inside.’ He replied and opened the door for you. ‚Wait, is that my jacket?’

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[markantonys]

acos prologue-chapter 19: i read the whole first half of the book during a trip this weekend so i’m sure i’ve forgotten a bunch of stuff i wanted to note, but i did go back and skim through to jog my memory and i think i have all the most important things

giant ass wheel of time prologues my detested. i want to see RAND! pedron niall’s assassination was pretty wild tho, did not see that coming! might be starting to see why the show gave valda such a prominent intro? up to now i’d been wondering about that since he hasn’t seemed too important. overall the book whitecloaks feel like more of a nuisance and waste of page-time than an actual threat, so i think the show did a much better job making them feel like real antagonists.

it’s also interesting bc coming to the books as a show-first person, what with the way whitecloaks were presented to me initially, so far galad becoming a whitecloak feels WAY worse than anything gawyn (who we also see in the prologue) has done yet. i’m committed to keeping gawyn as my problematic fav now, hope he doesn’t do something truly heinous that’ll make me have to admit i was wrong jkdfg i can forgive his choices at the tower coup and dumai’s wells and his hatred of rand bc he’s doing the best he can with the extremely limited and mostly incorrect information that’s available to him (the difficulties and unreliability of info-spreading in a pre-modern-technology (or technically post-) society is becoming a growing issue which is fascinating at times and infuriating at others, but always an incredibly realistic worldbuilding detail that i don’t recall seeing many other similarly low-tech fantasy books including) anyway, i’m weeping over gawyn’s looking glass having an inscription from his mom. also over him reflecting on how quickly real war ripped away the ideals he was always taught about fighting honorably.

“[perrin] would have expected the other aes sedai to comfort [the ones who were stilled in the battle], care for them somehow, but most ignored the three entirely” agreed perrin! i remember being really struck by how cold all the aes sedai were to siuan and leane when they were stilled and then how warm again suddenly after nynaeve healed them. not a surprising attitude for aes sedai, but shitty nonetheless.

“rand could [channel], of course, but he was rand, and the dragon reborn besides. [the asha’man] made perrin’s hackles rise” aww perrin lowkey admitted he’s not afraid of rand :’) what a sad state of things that i’m touched by that lmao

and perrin counting “they had kidnapped rand, mistreated him” as a reason why he doesn’t like aes sedai :’)

“the dragon reborn, who made the world tremble, sitting on the ground, alone in the dark, his arms wrapped around himself, rocking back and forth” almost started crying on the bus there, thanks for that

“[rand] had on a coat rooted out of the wagons...it was the only garment in the camp to fit him. truth, you would have thought he insisted on silk and fine embroidery, the way he had had those wagons searched top to bottom, yesterday and this morning” gee perrin i wonder why rand was so desperate to change out of the clothes he was kidnapped and tortured in for weeks? rand is literally so traumatized and literally no one even THINKS to think that he might be!

more problems await rand in cairhien. is it too much to ask that he be given enough time for a bath and a nap after everything he’s been through? goddamn

again perrin smells jealousy and hurt from faile when berelain comes up, and again understands the jealousy but not the hurt. he really just keeps going “why does the thought of me being interested in someone else make my wife feel hurt? what does it mean?” perrin has to take the crown of Worst With Women out of the 3 boys, which is ironic since he’s the only one in a long-term relationship with one. dumbassery by perrin, but more dumbassery by faile to not see how obviously uninterested and flat-out UNCOMFORTABLE perrin is with berelain and to not believe perrin when he keeps telling her he loves no one but her. jealousy is probably my #1 most hated romantic conflict in fiction (and probably also my #1 biggest turnoff in a hypothetical real-life partner) so i can tell i’m not going to have a good time with this plotline.

rand includes mat in the very short list of people he can trust. thinking about “friend” (in the context of lews therin being his only friend in the box) triggers some hallucinatory (?) flickers of color and motion that make him think of mat (and perrin). cauthor crumbs!

“no. he was not in the chest anymore. his fingers ached, clenched around scepter and hilt. only memories remained, and memories had no force. he was not-” rand!!! is so!!! traumatized!!!! and no one notices!!!!!!!

“when sulin stepped around in front of rand, she took one look at his face, and her breath caught. ‘they did this to you,’ she said softly, and reached for her heavy-bladed belt knife.” when rand gets panicky just from the darkness when he pulls his hood up, “sulin’s hand moved. it took him a moment to realize she was stroking his arm.” okay SULIN notices, thank god!! if nobody’s got rand i know sulin’s got him

“‘what woman could i hate enough to marry her to the dragon reborn?’ rand said coldly. that caused a silence solid enough to touch.” first of all, heartbreaking, second of all, i did laugh a little at bael and bashere and their wives all joking around about marriage and rand just drops the biggest debbie downer line in the world on them and kills, nay, MURDERS the mood

rand thinks, in quick succession, that he needs elayne, that he “doesn’t” (does) need aviendha, and that he needs mat. #PutMatInThePolycule

fat little man angreal my beloved is missing! no!! rand better get that little guy back or else! i don’t even care about him needing it for channeling, i just think it’s neat. fat little man angreal is my friend.

rand thinking of all his problems as juggling. “thom merrilin had taught him to juggle a little, but he had never been very good.” sounds like rand needs the pro juggler, mat cauthon, by his side to help him deal with everything.

“it was not of sammael or illian that he thought. bring elayne quickly, mat. it ran wild in his head.” matrandlayne crumbs!

“one hour, and [egwene] could straighten everything out. underneath, he was still rand.” aww egwene ❤️ it’s nice to see that all the emond’s fielders do still, to some extent, see rand and not just the dragon reborn. now if only they would make that clear to him to help him feel less isolated.............

“‘he doesn’t think he needs anyone.’ rand would go on thinking he could handle anything by himself right up until one of those anythings crushed him.” 1) pot and kettle, egwene 2) it hurts so much to see rand in his pov constantly thinking “i have to do this by myself because i’m the only one who can/because i don’t want other people to get hurt by having to do it/because i’m too traumatized to trust anyone but myself” but then from exterior povs it comes off as him refusing to ask for help because he’s overconfident and too proud and stubborn. aaaaaahhhh!!!

loving the parallels with rand and egwene in this book. both finding themselves with a million problems to juggle that (they think) no one but they can solve, both overwhelmed and lonely and scared and not sure who they can trust, but pushing through to try and do it all on their own because they must. “there was no rest in it, but it must be done. she would do what must be done.” like that could’ve come straight from a rand pov chapter!

theodrin is DEFINITELY mesaana. same tic of tapping her lips while thinking.

“mat had a reputation as a soldier?...[egwene] had believed he commanded only because of rand” jdkfjg EVERYONE thinks mat is just rand’s trophy husband. this + “of course you’re dragonsworn, you do whatever rand tells you” in the last book, egwene 100% thinks they’re fucking

egwene knows in her head that bonding a warder without his consent is bad, but thinks she and nynaeve might do the same to gawyn and lan if they were to turn them down?? girl???? what the fuck???????

awwww moiraine wanted myrelle to pass lan’s bond on to nynaeve ❤️❤️

halima is definitely giving egwene these headaches on purpose and then offering the cure as a way to worm her way into egwene’s trust. sometimes i wish there was a bit less of “revealing to the audience that a character is evil, but not to the other characters” i love a bit of dramatic irony but at this point it’s starting to become stressful and frustrating how many people i KNOW are evil that none of the other characters have unmasked yet (and i honestly can’t even keep track of which whitecloak was it who’s the darkfriend, which aes sedai, etc. lmao it would be easier on me in all respects if i was kept in the dark as long as the characters were)

our first aviendha pov (aside from like 4 paragraphs in the last book) yes!!!! i am so excited!!!! i’ve been hoping to unlock aviendha pov for ages! i love seeing how her aiel mind thinks about things in such different ways than the wetlander povs, like water and boats and propriety and clothing and relationships and honor and shame. aviendha vs. boats is so CUTE

“in a way, however important their search, that was like putting something before clan or society, yet aviendha felt pride. elayne’s view of honor was peculiar at times...but she followed it admirably” proud girlfriend! ❤️❤️

ooh interesting to finally see why aiel always call everyone by first and last name - aviendha thinks that only calling someone by half their name feels too intimate, “like using a honey-name.” if we don’t get a version of the godtier “character a who never calls character b by their first name does so for the first time in an emotional moment after character b almost dies” trope for aviendha and rand, i will fucking riot

“aviendha did not approve [of elayne’s dress]. the upper half of the dress, the bodice, fitted as snugly as that necklace, and a missing narrow oval of cloth revealed the inner slopes of her breasts” aviendha is shook by The Titties

no but while i like the clothing descriptions, i’m tired of how EVERY SINGLE woman’s outfit is ALWAYS described in terms of how revealing it is or isn’t. either describe women’s clothes without that aspect or, better yet, describe men’s clothes WITH it. if you’re gonna tell me how elayne’s boobs look in tight dresses, i also want to know how mat’s ass looks in tight pants. THAT is true equality!

“she and elayne had not reached the point of adopting each other as first-sisters yet, but she was sure they would, now. already they brushed each other’s hair, and every night in the dark shared another secret never told to anyone else.” LADIES................ 1) i specifically remember that earlier a maiden suggested that rand offer to brush aviendha’s hair as a way of getting her interest romantically, so the fact that aviendha and elayne are brushing each other’s hair 👀 2) what secrets never told to anyone else are they sharing every night, in the dark, alone, when it is dark, at night? 👀👀 3) much as i love this, when last we left aviendha she was saying she and elayne weren’t ready to become first-sisters yet, but now suddenly she thinks they’re almost there. “relationship development happening offscreen between books” is one of rj’s favorite tricks and i don’t like it one bit. 4) imagine a Put Mat In The Polycule version of this where mat is hanging out with aviendha and elayne brushing each other’s hair and fucking sharing secrets and talking about rand (as elayne mentions later) 🥺🥰

aviendha thinking about how ready she is to be elayne’s first-sister (and by extent sister-wife) and then thinking “this min woman, though............” (and min’s similar thought later about sharing rand with elayne and “this aviendha woman she had yet to meet”) just drives home how much min does not fit naturally into the polycule. min was close with elayne in book 2 (and most of that was relationship development that happened offscreen before the book) but they’ve only had a couple scenes since then, and she’s never met aviendha at all. meanwhile elayne/aviendha are as connected with each other as they are with rand, and while we’re at it, mat is connected with all 3 of them more strongly than min is. he’s a better and more natural fourth goddammit!!!!

aviendha is the first to advocate for asking mat to help them find the bowl rather than avoiding him 🥰 and when nynaeve insults him elayne says “oh do be quiet nynaeve” 🥰

“‘maybe,’ birgitte murmured, ‘you had mat the scoundrel set so hard in your mind, you couldn’t see he had any use.’ elayne gave her a cool stare, chin raised, then abruptly grimaced, and nodded reluctantly. she did not accept criticism easily.” awww elayne acknowledging she’s judged mat unfairly 🥰 also i really feel like nynaeve and egwene have influenced elayne’s opinion of mat HARD, like they’re her bffs and they spend so much time talking about what an irresponsible scoundrel he is that of course elayne comes to believe the same thing. it often feels like she’s mostly just parroting what they say about mat, esp since i feel like mat hasn’t done anything THAT scoundrel-y in front of elayne so far.

“he needs to be made fit for decent company” is elayne planning to My Fair Lady mat? ........that would be a hilarious fic actually, someone please write that

awwww elayne is being so sweet about aviendha’s fear of boats and water, giving her advice for dealing with it while phrasing it like she’s talking about herself so as not to embarrass aviendha 🥺🥰

“[aviendha] complained to amys and bair that she must be ill because she felt as though rand al’thor was carrying some part of her around with him” BABY 🥺🥺😭😭

“most would have thought [elayne] quite calm, but aviendha knew the signs” aviendha knows her girlfriend!

proud dad mat betting all his money on olver in the horse race! anxious dad mat being worried about olver getting hurt in the race!

“not that [the women] had spoken twenty words to [mat] since arriving in the bloody city!” mat is so desperate for his besties’ attention bless him

“as far as [mat] was concerned, [aviendha] could knife whoever she wanted so long as it was not elayne” supportive brother-husband of aviendha and protective husband of elayne 😌

mat having a flashback to the cauthor roadtrip 😭😭😭😭 and not just any part of it, but the part when rand was sick and mat took care of him (tho the flashback is only focused on the darkfriend lady), which might just be my #1 favorite part!

dagger-influenced mat in the flashback “he wondered why he had ever trusted. it never paid. never.” and lews-therin-influenced rand earlier in the book “to trust was to be betrayed; trust was pain” they need each other so bad!! goddammit!!

mat going “nynaeve needs to be taken down a peg but i’m not gonna let anyone else talk shit about her!” they’re besties your honor!!!

i feel like mat is suddenly being 20x hornier and more women-objectifying-y than he ever was in previous books, and i feel like this is being done so that The Thing That Happens To Him Later In This Book can be framed as comeuppance, which is absolute bs!!!!

speaking of That Thing, this chapter has mat’s first meeting with tylin and it’s horrible! he spends the whole time uncomfortable and stressed out and feeling trapped and having his personal space invaded. “the writing table behind his back rattled against the wall as he tried to back away. the only way out was to push her aside or climb over her skirts...she smiled, a faint curl of her lips that did not lessen the predatory glint in her eyes. the hair on his head tried to stand up.” i hate it!!!!! elayne please make a gateway and send mat back to caemlyn stat!!!

mat feels like a rabbit being chased by an eagle. i feel as though we’re supposed to think “ha, how the turn tables from when mat was the eagle chasing all those women” except it was clearly established MULTIPLE times in previous books that mat only chases women who enjoy it as much as he does. and actually, his only previous significant relationship (melindhra) was also him as the rabbit to her eagle, not just bc she was a darkfriend and tried to kill him, but even before that he was often uncomfortable around her and wishing he could figure out a way to end the relationship without her forcing him to stay or getting mad at him or hurting him. mat deserves better yet from spoilers i know he’s only going to receive worse 😤

the dice have been rolling for a couple chapters now and i am so scared to see when they’ll stop

random thought but i LOVE taraboner syntax and speech patterns

rand is also suddenly being hornier and more women-objectifying-y than usual (“he enjoyed looking at [berelain] too much” literally since when????) but at least it seems like this might be a symptom of lews therin being horny in his head and not actually rand’s own thoughts

if cadsuane is so important and legendary among aes sedai, why have we never heard one mention of her in a previous book? at least that i can recall. she’s funny so far but it just feels like she came out of absolutely nowhere, usually a character who’s allegedly THIS important would’ve at least been hinted at before being abruptly dropped into the story

rand is starting to question whether lews therin is real or just madness, interesting. i would also like the answer to that!

“mad or not, alone or not, there was no one else to do what had to be done. not even this small duty. heavier than a mountain.” 😭😭😭😭

our first few sentences of min pov this book are her thinking about how she hates high-heeled boots but is wearing them because she thinks rand likes them 🙄 day 89475 of waiting for min to find the dignity and self-respect she had at the beginning of the series

“she had long since reconciled herself to being hopelessly in love [with rand]. nothing else mattered, not that he was an unsophisticated countryman, younger than she, not who or what he was, not that he was doomed to go mad and die if he was not killed first.” min spends so much time thinking about all the reasons why she shouldn’t love rand and none about the reasons why she does. day 9348958 of waiting for min to give one (1) reason why she loves rand, besides that he’s handsome and that fate said she had to. and on rand’s part, the only reason he’s really given so far is that he feels safe with min, which is sweet, but not really enough to convince me of strong romantic love. it feels more like a sense of platonic comfort and friendship than of attraction or romantic feelings. plus, it almost feels like he’s just latching onto min bc he’s so desperately lonely and affection-starved and she is literally the only friend he has nearby atm, aside from perrin who we’ve seen is kinda wary of him now

min is unhappy with sharing rand with elayne and aviendha but has accepted she has no choice. i’ve said it before but have to repeat, i just hate so much the way this whole thing was done! it feels like poor min and elayne are both miserable with the arrangement, while aviendha is ok with sharing with elayne but not with min. i would love to see avilayne date in the show (and we’re all thinking they probably will) and possibly one or both date min as well, but honestly i would be completely fine with them keeping “rand has 3 gfs and they each only have him” if they just made it so that all 4 of them are actually HAPPY with the arrangement and do it because they want to, not because min said fate said they had to. like, the aiel are already there to introduce the concept of polyamory to rand/elayne/min, they don’t also need Fate Said So motivating them to do this. i feel like the books made it so that the concept of polyamory is so completely alien and distasteful to min and elayne that Fate Said So was the only way to force them into it, which sucks and is yet another symptom of the main characters’ extreme sexual repression (which the show has thankfully done away with, and nynaeve in s1 was surprised by polyamory but had no problem with it, so i’m hoping the randwich formation will benefit from this change in attitude)

min and rand have now officially fucked, but my opinion of the ship still hasn’t changed. also, what is WITH the non-consensual undertones of rand’s 2 sex scenes? with aviendha i remember him thinking something like “he couldn’t have stopped her even if he’d wanted to” and now min’s is so much worse: “[while rand is protesting that he can’t do this with her] seizing two handfuls of his hair, she pulled his mouth back down, and after a little while, he stopped fighting...if he even tried to stop now, she was going to fetch one of riallin’s spears, all of them, and stab him.” is that supposed to feel sexy? is that supposed to feel romantic? bc it doesn’t!! especially given that this is happening while rand is in a really emotionally vulnerable state after cadsuane’s visit and the news of fel’s and colavaere’s deaths which he views as his fault. A Crown of Swords more like A Crown of Consent Issues

i haven’t yet returned to rand’s pov, will be interested to see his thoughts on this development

[sad-brunnettee]

Clueless

Eddie Munson x gn reader

Warning: alcohol, smoking weed, swearing

A/n: it isn’t exactly like the movie clueless because I watched it a while back and I forgot most of it already lmao. Way

—

Being the new student isn’t always easy or fun, everyone stares at you. Making you feel like an animal in a zoo, and you hated it. Even more now that you were older, high schoolers have a tendency to use words that eventually get stuck in your head. That later on lead to insecurities that make you wonder if that’s what everyone thinks of you.

You’ve lost count of how many times your family has moved but you knew it will be last that you will share with them. Soon you will be legal of age and later on, go to college, allowing you to for once, choose where to settle down. Aside from you not having many friends, you have been able to get along with the outcasts. Your choice of clothing wasn’t revealing or colorful. You simply wore what made you comfortable, the music you listen to isn’t that popular with other groups but it doesn’t bother you at all.

As you made your way to the school’s office, you felt eyes on you. Even if you were used to it, this time it felt different. It was as if they wanted you to turn and look at them. Yet when you looked around you, there wasn’t anyone looking in your direction. Everyone was in their own little world. With a shrug of your shoulders you continued your way over to the doors in front of you that had the words ‘main office’ written on top.

With a push of your hand, the door opened. Revealing middle aged lady’s working behind the counter with a couple of students walking by. So far you like Hawkins, it was small place. Meaning you wouldn’t have to travel a lot to get to a place, unlike the other cities you’ve lived in. Walking seems to be a better option for transportation.

“Good morning, my name is y/n l/n, I’m here to pick up my schedule.” You spoke with a smile.

The lady behind the counter simply lifted her index finger as she walked over to the phone that was ringing. You had no other option other than stand there awkwardly waiting for the phone call to be over. After a few minutes of her talking she cleared her throat and gave you an annoyed look.

“What do you need?” She asked after a few seconds of silence.

You tried your best to show any annoyance but your smile dropped a little “I’m uh, I’m here to pick up my schedule. My na-.”

As she looked over her computer she quickly typed before interrupting you “name?” She asked, rather rudely.

“Y/n, l/n” You answered a bit frustrated.

After that neither one of you said anything, she simply kept on typing before you heard the printer being used. You tapped your feet softly on the floor beneath your feet as you waited for her to walk back towards you and hand you the schedule. She walked back and took a sit before placing the paper on the counter for you to grab. Muttering a small ‘thank you’ to her, you grabbed the paper and walked back out.

You were too busy looking over your classes that you didn’t notice a person in front of you. Who was also distracted. Suddenly, your body collided with theirs, causing the papers they held in their hands to go flying.

A gasp escaped from you lips as you grabbed as many papers from the floor as you could.

“I-I’m so sorry, I was too busy looking over my schedule that I didn’t see you.” You explained yourself fast hoping the person will let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry too, I-I wasn’t paying attention.” A masculine voice spoke and as you looked up you felt a smile forming on your face. He was beautiful. “Cool shirt by the way.” He said as he pointed at it.

Forgetting what you were wearing you glanced down and realized it was an Iron Maiden shirt. “Oh, thanks. It’s actually my dad’s but he let me have it after he realized I liked their music.” You confessed sheepishly.

“Really? You know I… I haven’t met a many people who are into heavy metal music. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” He said with a tilt of his head.

“It’s my first day actually and can I just say I love your shirt. W-what does it mean?” You asked as you fixed the strap of your backpack.

With a proud grin he stretched it out by the hem of his shirt. “Pretty neat huh, we made it ourselves.” He said.

“We?” You asked still confused as to what it meant.

“My club and I, we play dungeon’s and dragons every Thursday after school.” He was afraid you’ll probably react the same way everyone else does. Scared or take it as a joke but as he looked up he saw how genuinely interested you were in what he was saying.

“What’s dungeons and dragons?” You asked hoping to get more information.

“It’s this fantasy game and we all get to choose our own characters.” He answered as he let go of his shirt for it to fall back in place with a few wrinkles.

“Could you, show me how to play?” You asked slowly.

Eddie was taken aback by your question, if he thought that you were attractive before. You have definitely caught his attention now.

“Yeah I uh, I could teach you next Thursday when we play.” He said almost fast.

“I thought, you said you played every Thursday.” You said with a quirk of your eyebrow.

Eddie couldn’t help but blush, he’s not sure why either. “Well my club thinks I deserve to experience a party that’s happening that day. Something about enjoying my last year of high school… at least we hope I graduate this time.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of school. As much as you wanted to keep on talking to Eddie, you knew that your dad wouldn’t like you skipping class for a boy.

“I-I’ll see you later.” You said and got ready to walk over to your first class. Just as you took a few steps away from him, you heard his voice calling for you.

“Wait, I- I didn’t get your name.” He said as he cupped his hands around his mouth to make sure you heard him.

“It’s y/n.” Was all you said as you kept on walking.

—

The next few days you tried to get close to him but girls will come and kept bombarding you with questions. Regarding where you came from making conversation with them easy. There were times when someone would makes comments about your clothing. Yet you make sure to never give them the reaction they wish to get.

A girl named Tina came up to you which caused all conversation to stop. “You’re y/n, the new student. Right?” She asked once she was close to you.

“Yeah I am.” You said.

She crossed her arms while taking a look at you from head to toe and tilting her head. Confused, you also glanced down but weren’t sure what she was so fixated with.

“Did you get an invitation to my party?” She asked after a while.

“No…I didn’t.” You still weren’t sure what her issue was.

She uncrossed her arms and looked at the other two girls that stood beside her. They all gave a nod of their head before turning their gaze back towards you.

“Come to my locker after school and we’ll help you get ready for the party.” She attempted to say in a nice way but you were smart enough to know it was far from being nice.

Regardless you thought a party will be the best way to meet people and get wasted. Plus Eddie did say he’ll be there, this could be your chance to get to know him better.

“Okay, see you then.” You said with a smile and shrug of your shoulders.

As soon as the words left your mouth all conversation changed from talking about you to talking about one another. Regarding what they will wear and who they’ll try to impress.

—

It was now the end of school and you still hadn’t caught a glimpse of Eddie. It made you a bit sad but you’ll try to meet him at the party.

Once you reached Tina’s locker she turned towards you. “Do you have a ride?”

“No, my dad dropped me off and I’m supposed to walk home.” You answered.

With a nod of her head you and the two other girls followed her outside. The short redhead walked over to a black car that you presumed was hers. Judging how she headed to the drivers side.

“Wow, cool Aston!” You exclaimed as you reached for the handle.

“Excuse me?” She asked as she looked at Tina and the other girl who only shrugged their shoulders.

“Your car, it’s a Aston Martin V8 Zagato.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing.

They didn’t say anything as they all got in the car, you followed suit. Due to the way you dress and music you listen to, you’ve always had guy friends in your past schools. Which is why there some things you know more about than most girls, which include car models.

The drive to Tina’s house was filled with music and gossip. They would each take turns filling you in about their bit drama. You’ve heard of Billy, Steve, Jason and Tommy but not once did they mention Eddie. You wondered if maybe he was shy and kept to himself.

“What about Eddie?” You asked and as you did, Carol parked her car near Tina’s house.

They all shared a questioning look before looking at you. “Who?” They all asked.

“Yeah you know, Eddie. Long curly hair, listens to rock music and I think he mentioned something about his club playing a game.” You said as you tried to recall information about him as you could.

With a huff the girl sitting next to you said “oh, you mean Eddie ‘the freak’?” As soon as she said that she opened the door and got out. Followed by everyone else as well as you.

“How is he a freak?” You asked.

“Look y/n, it’s just best if you stay away from him. Ok? There are actual cute guys around Hawkins for you to crush on.” Carol said as she stood next to you.

“I don’t have a crush on him.” You chuckled almost nervously.

—

The party had started a while back and half of the school was there. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Aside from the outrageous outfit Tina forced you to wear, you were also having fun. So far no sign of Eddie but you tried to not fret too much over it.

Just as you were about to pour yourself more alcohol, Tina came up to you and dragged you away.

“I was about to-.” You said as she kept on pulling your arm towards a small crowd.

“Steve is coming and the girls and I think he’ll be perfect for you. Here, pretend to have a conversation with someone else so he can notice you.” She rushed out her words as she stood in front of you while looking around for Steve. “Ok he’s here, I’ll go talk to him and try setting you up, when I tap my nose you’ll pretend to laugh. Got it?” Without waiting for a response she pushed you into a guy in front of you and left.

You weren’t able to balance yourself on time, luckily the guy in front of you caught you by your elbows to steady you. Even though you weren’t fully drunk, you felt your whole world shake.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.” He said chuckling, “are you okay?”

As you lifted your head towards him, you felt a lazy grin appear on your face. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“Well, here I am.” He said as he lifted his arms. “Do you want a drink?” He asked.

Feeling an intense look from someone you turned to someone that stood near the front door. Your eyes landed on those of Tina who tried to act casual while tapping her nose. Taking this as your cue you looked at Eddie who was waiting for an answer and without thinking, you let out a laugh.

He laughed too but it sounded more nervous than anything. With furrowed eyebrows he asked “wh-what’s so funny?”

You felt embarrassed and all you could do was give a brief raise of your arms in a shrugging motion. A few seconds later Tina came towards you while holding Steve’s arm.

“Y/n, there you are!” She exclaimed while looking between you and Eddie. “This is Steve, I’m sure the two of you will like to get to know one another.”

Once more she didn’t give you time to respond as Steve was guiding you to the kitchen island. Leaving a very confused Eddie behind.

“How are you liking the party so far?” He asked attempting to have a decent conversation with you.

“Oh it’s uh, it’s fun.” You tried to keep your gaze on him but you kept on looking for Eddie.

“I have to go use the bathroom, but I’ll be back okay?” He set his cup down and made his way around you.

“Okay” was your response, once more you began to look for Eddie. Once you saw him, you made your way over to him. He was leaning against the wall taking a drag from his blunt looking bored. As soon as his eyes landed on you he gave you a smile.

“Can I?” You pointed at his blunt.

He felt himself falling more and more for you. “Go for it.” He handed you his blunt as you took a drag before giving it back.

“Y/n, where’s Steve?” Tina’s voice came from your left and she looked almost annoyed at the scene in front of her.

Without meaning to, you accidentally exhaled the smoke on her face which caused her to grimace in disgust. “Oops, sorry.” You said sheepishly. “He went to the bathroom.”

She grabbed your hand and took you over to find him. You looked back at Eddie while mouthing a ‘sorry’ one which he just responded with a smile and a thumbs up.

“Look, he’s with Stacy. If you don’t act fast she’ll take him away from you.” She said while walking over to Steve.

Just as the two of you were about to reach him, something came flying your way and hit you on the head. Some gasps were heard when suddenly you felt someone pick you up. As you opened your eyes you noticed that it was Steve. He set you down on the kitchen island after Tina had cleared it out.

“If it’s a concussion, you have to keep them conscious, okay? Ask them questions.” Tina spoke as she looked at you over Steve’s shoulder.

As Steve placed a rag with ice on your forehead he looked down at you “what’s seven times seven?” He asked.

“Stuff they know!” Exclaimed Tina as if it was the stupidest question he could ask.

You got up from your position and stayed sitting on the kitchens island for a few more seconds.

“You alright y/n?” Steve asked while still holding the rag to your forehead.

“Yeah I, think I’ll just head home. This was really embarrassing.” You stood now next to him and you could see Tina’s eyes fill themselves with excitement.

“Steve, you could drive them home.” She said.

“Actually, I think I live closer to their house.” Eddie joined the conversation as he looked concerned. “What do you say y/n?”

Almost immediately you accepted. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

Tina couldn’t help but glare at the back of Eddie’s head. Her plan won’t work if he keeps on trying to charm you. She’s almost sure that’s the cause for Steve now mingling back with Stacy.

🏷: @hellomyweirdos @lubsana @satsuri3su @n39ro-chann @kenzi-woycehoski

[m3hgumi]

— as your college roommate

a/n: im on summer break now !! while i do have stuff planned for the summer ill still be pretty active on this blog (it may not seem like it but im on here almost 24/7 now LOL <33) im currently trying to get my life together (and playing too much genshin) after the hell of the school year so writing is still a bit hard for me to get back into ,,, hopefully this isn’t too bad

pairing(s): itadori yuuji x f!reader, fushiguro megumi x f!reader, kugisaki nobara x f!reader, gojo satoru x f!reader (they’re all platonic btw)

genre: fluff, some chaos

word count: 1.1k

itadori yuuji

enter pure sunshine >:)

be prepared for loads of serotonin HSKSHS

he’s an amazing roommate. super respectful of your privacy, and won’t invade your personal space

he'll be over the moon to be best friends with his roommate, but if you aren't really into that he understands and will respect your boundaries

he offers to do a lot of the cleaning on his own and tells you not to feel bad about it :(

his space isn't the most organized though, he'll need some help on that

his side of the room is filled with posters (except his jennifer lawrence ones bc he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable)

on days where you’re staying up late to finish homework, he’ll bring up meals for you from the dining halls (he’ll even stay up with you sometimes)

whenever he's coming back late from hanging out with his friends (or partying) , he'll try be as quiet as possible not to wake you up

if you have the same classes, the two of you will walk to your lectures together

movie nights almost every weekend no exceptions (unless its midterm or finals week because :'))

if either of you didn't stay up all night working or have any classes in the early morning then both of you will eat breakfast from the dining hall together

gym buddies :)) he'll also take you on jogs during the evenings (assuming you don't have classes or plans)

overall, he's just a great roommate and super fun to be around

fushiguro megumi

unlike itadori, who'd initiate a friendship with his roommate almost immediately, he's a lot more reserved, so it'll take some time for him to warm up to you

the first few weeks were a bit awkward because of this

he was like a ghost, leaving the dorm before you even woke up and came back after you fell asleep

you almost never saw him during the day either, even if you had classes with him

it's not that he didn't want to be friends with his roommate, he was just really skeptical

you can't really complain though because he's extremely organized, and his side of the room almost never gets dirty

like itadori, he'll offer to do some chores for you

he also tries to be as quiet as possible when returning home late to not distrub you

once he warms up to you, you find that he's actually very sweet and caring, just in his own ways, which are rather subtle

if you get sick during the semester, he'll go out of his way to get you medicine and food, but he won't tell you he did and just leave it on the nightstand next to your bed

the two of you will bond over late night study sessions and mental breakdowns :')

he'll help you organize your stuff on your side of the room if you need it

yours and his schedules are stuck on the fridge so the two of you know what times either of you are free to get chores done or to hang out

if you guys have classes together, he'll offer to tutor you if you need help with the material

he doesn't like going to parties that much (mostly itadori and kugisaki are dragging him to them) but usually he'll bring with you along so he's not as lonely (bc we all know how crazy the two idiots can get)

kugisaki nobara

hypewoman roommate (the definition of hot girl shit)

she wasn't expecting to be besties with her roommate, but she's grateful she did

she drags you to all the parties she's going to (and the two of you take turns hauling the other's drunk ass back to the dorm)

she'll take you shopping with her whenever you're free

her side of the room isn't the cleanest, you gotta help her with that (otherwise you both will forever live in a sea of clothes and papers and personal belongings)

she makes you get breakfast and coffee with her every morning

she's kinda loud ,,,, her alarm might scare you bc of how high the volume is LMAO

ironically she'll sleep past her alarm and then not show up to class ,,, then you have to give her your notes

like with fushiguro, the two of you have put your schedules together so you guys could find when yall are free to hang out

the two of you also split chores between each other weekly, and it changes depending on how busy each of you are

if you have the same classes as her, she'll ask you to take notes for her whenever she can't make it to class (as in she overslept her loudass alarm)

if your fashion sense wasn't the best before ,,, be prepared for improvement this girl will REVAMP your entire closet

has you as her emergency contact because of the amount of shit she gets into

whenever the two of you go out, you're her camera person, always taking pictures for her social media

she makes tiktoks with you almost everyday

studying with her is just ,,,,, a whole shitshow (pls help this girl)

okay but if you need help with anything (that isn’t studying), she’s you go-to person. relationship advice? boom matchmaker in heaven. having self esteem issues? she’ll hype tf out for you

you're never gonna have a boring experience with her as your roommate

gojo satoru

ah yes, the extremely hot and rich roommate

but unfortunately, that's all there is to him (aside from the fact that he's incredibly smart)

his side of the room is so messy you can barely even walk to your side without tripping on something of his

he comes home very late all the time, and doesn't make the effort to stay quiet sometimes

he's loud in the mornings (he doesn't sleep much so he's almost always up earlier than you)

he will bug you into coming with him to doing stuff with him even if you're busy

he almost never does his chores, and don't even start on making him go grocery shopping

one time you sent him to do grocery shopping on his own because you were too busy to go, he ended up coming back with a lifetime supply of mochi and other sweets and NOTHING ELSE

ever since then you went shopping with him so he wouldn't overfill your mini fridge again

if it wasn't for the fact that he's rich and was willing to pay for the rent in full without your input, you would've left immediately (but being broke asf you couldn't turn down the opportunity of not having to worry about living expenses)

okay but when you're staying up late at night to study for exams or doing assignments ,,,, this man will literally just sit there and laugh at your misery (like sir help me)

he'll eventually help you (after teasing the shit out of you) and then world peace is restored

if you have a roommate like him ,,, i wish you the best of luck ,,, for you and your patience and sanity

© m3hgumi 2021. all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, or repost my works anywhere

[sarah-sandwich]

Okay I’ve gotta ask about A Series of Mysterious Snappenstances

lmao thanks! It's...the working title obviously haha

This is my much delayed (to the point of irrelevance) endgame fix it fic! (with a heavy helping of parkner) I'm not even going to waste space talking about it I'm just going to share the beginning and let you wonder 😘

Present

Peter hangs back from the service at the lake until Aunt May, with a comforting but firm arm around his waist, guides him closer to the dock where Pepper and Morgan are sending off Mr. Stark’s arc reactor. He hasn’t cried yet. Well, not today. Well, not here where the Avengers could see. Well, the remaining Avengers. His throat aches with the need to release the pent up agony in his chest. He lost him. He really lost him. He spent years vying for Iron Man’s— No, for Tony Stark’s attention, his favor, his pride, and only got it during the five years he wasn’t here to appreciate it. And then he lost him.

When the staggered clusters of people standing on the lawn start to break up, some heading inside for refreshments and conversations while others start towards the procession of parked cars that line the long drive, he makes his excuses to May and splits off towards the small trailhead visible in the treeline beyond the house. He only needs a minute to relieve the ache in his throat and siphon off some of the misery coalescing in his chest without humiliating himself in front of Earth’s mightiest heroes.

He doesn’t expect someone else to have had the same idea.

His cheeks are already wet, vision obscured by tears, when he rounds a bend and nearly walks smack into a tall, light-haired figure in all black. They’re all in all black.

“Shi— Sorry,” he says as he dodges around shiny black dress shoes and manages to kick dirt over his own. He hastily scrubs his face with the backs of his sleeves but his suit jacket is depressingly water-repellent.

“It’s alright.” The stranger's voice is light and cushioned by a southern drawl but Peter gets the feeling that he’s annoyed. He has no idea why he thinks that but his gut says it’s true. Face damp and sleeves smeared, he looks up and meets stormy eyes. A spark of recognition flares within him only to fade as quickly as it came. Try as he might, he can’t put a name to this face. Crooked squashy nose, eyes blue like a rain cloud under serious eyebrows, his hair that shade that straddles the line between brown and blonde and is trimmed neatly and styled with gel. It looks… wrong, somehow.

“Are you alright?”

He realizes he’s staring and steps back with a shrug, throwing a cast away glance at the surrounding forest before finding his gaze drawn right back to the boy in front of him. He’s his age, or somewhere near enough to it. Who is this guy? “Fantastic,” he deadpans and surreptitiously tries to wipe his sleeves on the butt of his slacks. Who decided on the dress code for funerals? Funeral dress should be all knits and cotton. Comfortable, light, and absorbent. This polyester hell is miserable.

“You knew Mr. Stark?” The words are out of Peter's mouth before he can call them back. To his credit, the guy raises his eyebrows and gives him a look like duh. Why else would he be all the way out here dressed in fuddy-duddy funeral clothes?

“Mr. Stark?” the guy echoes with a sardonic edge. “Was he your boss or something?”

Peter winces. Was. “Sort of. I’m… was his intern.”

The guy’s gaze sharpens and seems to take him in anew or perhaps for the first time. “Peter Parker?”

Peter blinks. “Yes? Who are you?”

“Harley Keener,” he says and actually sticks his hand out to shake.

Peter wipes his hand on his slacks before he takes it. Harley’s hand wraps around his, warm and calloused. Something niggles at the back of his mind. A feeling. A memory. Deja Vu. He says the words that come to his mind as though he’s spoken them before. “The potato gun kid?”

A smile curls Harley’s lips, crooked and hinting at mischief of days gone by.

_________________________________________________________

Plain of the Lost: Date Unknown

“Yeah, that’s me,” Harley says, teeth bared in a shit-eating grin that wrinkles his nose. “Did he tell you I saved his ass? More than once.”

Peter hazards a half-smile. “Yeah, he might’ve mentioned it.”

Harley puts his hands on his hips and looks around at their dusty little camp. It’s not much. There aren’t any materials to build anything. The only things they brought with them are the clothes on their backs and whatever they may have had in their pockets when they got snapped. The best they’ve been able to do is mark out small territories. None of them are depressed enough to call them ‘homes’ yet. This is temporary. Whether they’re called back to Earth and their normal lives or they move on to some kind of afterlife, they all agree this can’t be it. This is purgatory, not an ending but a transition to something else. It has to be.

“So what’s the application process like for this place?” Harley asks. “And what kind of deposit are we looking at? The usual one-month plus first month? What are your rates?”

Peter shakes his head. He’s out of practice with this whole socializing thing. He’s usually the one making jokes and trying to keep people’s spirits up. To have that energy directed at him has him wrong-footed. “There’s not much but I can give you a tour and if you’re interested you can sketch out a spot for yourself.”

“Sure, sure. Where’s yours? We can start there.”

Peter hesitates. “I don’t have one.”

Harley looks at him then, head cocked to the side in consideration. “Why not? You’re not sticking around?”

Peter runs his tongue over his teeth. That’s not it. He already decided the best way to find his people would be to stay in one spot and make sure his name gets around, let them find him, but… “I don’t need one. I… This is for them. Not me.” He gestures at the huddled masses, clumped in small groups playing games in the dirt or solitary and staring up at the never-changing sunset or down at the dirt that doesn’t stick to clothes or feet.

Harley watches him. “So you see yourself as above everyone else?”

“What? No, I… Not above.” Not below either, but separate? Definitely. There are a number of New York accents in his little corner of the Plains. The more he gets the word out there that Spider-Man is watching over this area the more of them arrive. It doesn’t matter that he stopped bothering with the mask. It doesn’t matter that he’s a regular guy underneath it. A kid, some might say. They still treat him like he’s some kind of authority. Someone important. Someone who can help. He tries to keep things casual by making bad jokes and goofing off but they take it as him putting on a brave face and being the light in the dark.

“They don’t think of me as one of them,” he slowly explains. “I don’t want to make them uncomfortable by being around all the time.”

Harley frowns at him. “So where do you go?”

He shrugs. Mostly he walks the perimeter of the area. There’s nothing else really to do. If anyone wanders close enough he asks if they’d like to join their little community. Most of the non-earthlings keep walking and some humans too, but mostly people are relieved to find a place to stay, a place where they aren’t alone or lost.

“Okay well how ‘bout this,” Harley says with conviction, “you show me around and I’ll pick us a spot. We can be neighbors.” He flashes another crooked grin like this is all a big joke, like they’re kids playing house and one of them needs to be the dad while the other is the pet dog that causes as much imaginary mayhem as possible while the other sighs loudly and straightens up the cracked bucket that sometimes functions as the kitchen table and sometimes as the TV.

“Alright,” Peter agrees more to put an end to this conversation than any reason else. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Maureen.”

“Lead on.”

_____________________________________________________

Present

“Yeah, that’s me,” Harley says, and his grin fades. “I should probably get going. I keep getting weird looks from…”

He trails off but Peter knows he means the Avengers. “Hold on,” he says without knowing where he’s going with it. Harley eyes him warily. “Let me at least introduce you to Morgan. She was telling me about all the stories M— her dad told about me. I bet he told her about you too. She’ll want to meet you.”

Harley chews his bottom lip and casts a sideways look in the direction of the house. Then he shrugs and says, “Alright. Lead on.”

That sense of deja vu washes over him again but he ignores it and starts back the way he came. Harley falls into step beside him as he brushes at his cheeks again.

“I don’t look like I’ve been crying, do I?”

Harley looks at him and his lips twitch. “Yeah, but a respectable amount of crying. Don’t worry it’s flattering.”

He trips on a root and lets Harley take the lead to hide his warm cheeks.

~*~

He’s hiding in the lab when Harley walks in. Pepper talked them both into staying the night, not that it was difficult considering Morgan is the one that made the request. That little girl is impossible to say no to. May left hours ago and he ducked into Mr. Stark’s garage for some respite after Morgan was put down for a nap and it appears he’s, again, not the only one to have the idea, but this time he was here first.

“Hey,” Peter says.

Harley stiffens and the exhaustion wipes away from his face as he straightens and locates him in the room. “Hey,” he says in return and then his gaze drifts beyond him to the holoscreens that hover over his shoulder. “Snooping?” he asks.

His tone is flat but Peter can tell he’s trying to make light of… Of everything.

“No.” He pulls a face and shrugs. “Well, sort of I guess. I was curious if he kept working on some stuff we had in progress when the— the blip happened.” The blip. What a dumb term. He has to keep reminding himself that’s how everyone has been referring to it all these years. It feels wrong in his mouth but he doesn't know what the alternative would be.

Harley hums thoughtfully and perches on the edge of the workbench. His seat puts him much higher than Peter on the rolling stool, his head only coming even with Harley’s hips.

“Why would he work on Spidey stuff? I thought you got blipped with the rest of us.”

Peter’s heart jumps into his throat.

Harley looks down at him. “What?”

He works his jaw then says lowly, “He told you?”

“Told—? Oh. No, he didn’t.” He frowns into the middle distance for a moment then shakes his head. “I think I’ve known for a long time. I don’t remember when I figured it out.”

“You don’t remember,” Peter repeats acerbically.

Harley shrugs. “Wasn’t important, I guess.”

Yeouch. Okay that’s something he’s going to dwell on later. Some random kid in Tennessee shouldn’t be able to figure out his identity, not even a kid connected to Mr. Stark. Especially if it wasn’t even important, if he wasn’t even trying. It’s alarming to say the least.

Silence falls around them as Peter half-heartedly pokes through the files from before the blip and Harley stares at the screens without comment, without blinking. Peter wonders if he’s even seeing them. Time passes, he’s not sure how much. He hasn’t been any good at tracking it lately. It’s almost like he expects no time to pass at all but then he looks at the sky and finds the sun has been moving steadily across it and it shocks him back into the present.

“Do you remember it?” Harley asks out of the blue.

“What?”

Harley turns his unblinking stare on him, something haunted in the depths. “The blip. Being blipped. Do you remember anything?”

“I get… impressions,” he admits. Orange. Always orange. There’s a specific shade that makes a trapped panicked feeling well up in his chest and he knows it’s because of that place. Fear, helplessness, frustration, boredom, but also safe, protected, cared for. A sense of home that he doesn’t understand. He feels like he found something there and unwittingly left it behind. He has muddled dreams that he wakes up from feeling inexplicably sad and lonely. No one else feels like this, or at least no one has talked about it, but there was something there. Something that he wants back. He just can’t remember what.

Harley nods like he expected as much.

“What about you?”

Harley looks away. “Same. I feel like I…” He shakes his head.

“Like you what?” Peter digs.

Harley frowns at the holoscreen but again seems to be looking through it, past it to some great beyond. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something important.”

Ask me about a fic on this list and I'll ramble about it

[anne-i-write]

moriarty the patriot headcannons

| requested by anon: “uhhh kinda weird lmao but how would the moriarty bros react to an s/o from the future? (Headcanons) thanks! OwO” |

william x reader; louis x reader; albert x reader

word count: 1355

tw: a few swears, if i’m missing any please let me know!

a/n: i’m so sorry that these are coming out so slow please enjoy!

william: 317 words

please

as soon as you wake up he’ll be staring at you intently

“where am i?”

“durham, england, 1880… and in my room”

it takes you like ten minutes to process everything that’s going on because: “i’m dreaming right??? or did i actually shift???

after finally accepting the fact you indeed did not shift and are not dreaming, you finally looked at the man who had stayed silent during your incoherent ramblings

“you seem more awake now, is it alright if i ask a few questions?”

hhh he’s such a gentleman

you both honestly take this whole time shift thing really well

louis definitely walks in on you two and he’s like,,

“who tf are you and how did you get in”

sdjkfhd pls its so funny when you guys converse

his speaking manner is so refined and yours is just,, yours

but he loves it

he thinks its cute

he comes up with a story for you because there were people who were no doubt going to question how you came into his life

and from there you two hit it off really well

accidentally said you two were to be wed during a conversation and the nobles went insane

when you are on the carriage ride back from the party he apologizes for saying something so out of line

“i wouldn’t mind being married to you, william.”

this man always has something to say but THIS

YOU

he wanted to respond with something witty but you just,, existed and made him melt

“let’s go buy a ring tomorrow then.”

asks you questions about the future

only trivial things, never if his plan works in the long term

but judging by the way you talk about your previous life he can tell that everyone is somewhat equal, except for “the dumbass politicians” you speak about

oh did i mention he picks up your swears too LMAO

louis: 459 words

 he’s heading back to his room when you come OUT of his room

“who tf are you, how did you get into this house, and why are you here”

instant kill mode

you think you’re dreaming so you’re like,, ok cool and you tell him most of your life story and he’s like

??????

has never been more dumbfounded in his life

who is this person and what are they wearing and why are they telling me their life story

eventually the rest of the moriarty team gets involved and matters are settled lmao

you all agree that staying in the manor is the best course of action at the moment

louis thinks you’re taking this a little too well so he’s still a little sus of you

like seriously,, the future?? cmon now

the people you’re working for probably made those weird clothes for you

but anyways

you’re helping him clean the house and cook

“this is fun,,, but honestly?? if i have to do this by myself everyday i would cry”

you keep saying this and you know it’s getting annoying for louis but he ISNT TALKING

if you can’t beat em, annoy em

finally gives in

“how did you used to wash clothes in the future?”

and you get this big smile on your face and you start TALKING

you’re so excited that he finally spoke to you

even tho you know you lowkey annoyed him

but you’re talking and louis is like,, huh

you’re talkative, but not annoying at all

you have little stories that make him laugh sometimes

needless to say you both get closer

but it isn’t until one night louis is making rounds around the manor that he passes by your room and hears crying

so he’s worried and he goes into your room

bruh you try pulling that shit where you wipe away your tears and be like “oh i’m okay!”

like,, no u aren’t

louis makes you spill what’s bothering you

“my friends, my family… are they okay? are they looking for me?? they must be so worried”

note that you’ve already been at the moriarty estate for about two months without any word that you can return to your own time

and louis holds you

he teaches you more about the year that you’re currently stuck in and he tries to take your mind off of the bad things

asks william to buy more books to indulge you bc you have some book withdrawals bc “WHAT DO YOU MEAN A TALE FOR THE TIME BEING HASNT BEEN PRINTED YET” followed by a short crying session

he’s a really good boyfriend

you taught him what a boyfriend was and he couldn’t stop thinking about how much society’s view on relationships changed

albert: 579 words

is walking down the streets at night when he sees you barreling down the road in your clothes

you look pretty scathed when you run right into him

“are you alright?”

you’re scared and out of breath but he’s wearing what you can only assume is a uniform of england

he takes you to his place and tries to calm you down

he asks you questions and you tell him everything straight out

you know you look crazy but you couldn’t bring yourself to care

you were just walking back from a friend’s place IN BROAD DAYLIGHT and you felt dizzy and you woke up alone in a dark alleyway

“where are you from?”

you obviously give him your city but he corrects himself

“what year are you from?”

“2019”

doesn’t want to believe you bc you’re all frantic and maybe insane

but your clothes just seem to different for him to brush off the possibility

tells you to sleep it off and gives you his bed

he’s already writing a letter to his brothers that he’s possibly coming back with someone

“ohoho brother albert has a suitor now?”

anyways, albert asks you more questions about your other life as you’re both on the train to durham

albert went out to buy you more fitting clothes before leaving and you couldn’t even repay him

but he tries to get you in a comfortable position so you don’t spiral again

but he’s genuinely nice about it when he finally accepts the fact that you are in fact from the future

funny enough, you both don’t get each others names until you get onto the train

“oh, my name is albert james moriarty”

and you’re briefly like “oh like sherlock’s nemesis” but then you remember that this is only the victorian era

sherlock holmes doesn’t exist, it’s just a coincidence

so you both get to the manor and he introduces you to the moriarty team and this is where you’re like,,

oh my God

this is real and i know the ending

you suddenly want to travel back further in time and never meet them bc they’re all really sweet towards you

and you got attached to them more than you should have

albert notices you’re a little tense so he makes small conversation to get your mind off of things

“i do like to play the piano”

bro

they have a piano delivered to the house to make you feel more comfortable and hopefully keep you occupied

itching and nostalgic (ironic), you play songs from rachmaninoff and joe hisaishi, despite it being from the future

everyone knows chopin so shhh

“that’s beautiful, did you compose that?”

“no, but another composer did, i don’t even think he exists yet”

you’re very adamant on keeping things the same

like,, no i’m not going to tell you how to create a washing machine because i don’t want to mess up the timeline if i do go back to the future

you do get very sad occasionally because you are homesick and being placed in a world where you have only heard stories of is very disorienting

but albert and the boys make up for it

albert always tries to be by your side and if he can get his hands on a piano sheet he’ll buy one for you and see if you already know it

it’s always nice to have them around, but you know the troubles you’ll eventually have to face

moriarty the patriot taglist: @zoehanji

[violetnotez]

Haaaaiiii! I don't know if you've done this before, but can you do a headcanon with Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, and Kaminari (separately) dating a slim thicc reader who's waaaaay to kind to everyone for her own good? Sorry if that was specific lol. It just suits my life.

HC: Slim Thicc + Overly Nice Reader | BNHA

Music Genre: Pop | BNHA

Characters: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, suggestive content

Music Collection | Tip Jar | Requests!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

Shop Owner Note: The fuq how did you describe me in four words lmaoooo-I really liked this idea alot!!!!! Also I only did Bakugo, Izuku and Shoto caus emy brain got fried, so hope thats okay!

Midoriya

THIS GIF ISNT APART OF THE HC AT ALL I JUST FOUND IT AND NOW IM FEELING SOME TYPE OF WAYYYY😳😳

Midoriya most definitely drink his respect women juice

He was raised by his mother after all

BUT

doesnt mean the boy cant be a little perverted-

He just loves your body!!!!!

How can he NOT love everything about it, from the way your school tights slightly squeeze your thighs to the point where he feel like he cant breath

Or when you wear his shirts and its tighter around the chest and flowy around you waist

Mmmmmm lets not forget your hero suit- this man would probably kiss the shoes of the person who made your suit

Cause DAMN they really made it as tight as possible and he just loves it sm

Lets be real this dude has probably popped a boner by accident just thinking about your hero suit 😶

ANYWAYS 💀💀💀💀

He is very much respectful about you and keeps his raging hormones horniness to himself

He is ALWAYS making sure you feel comfortable in your relationship, whether its from holding hands to cuddling, he will always make sure you give your consent

Now, when it comes to your kindness, this is something Midoriya probably loves the most about you

But he does find it really concerning when he notices you say “yes” to everything somebody asks you to do for them

And running yourself down, not looking as energetic as yourself

He is very observant, so he notices little things that signal you are little overwhelmed 

Like your clothes arent as perfectly ironed as they used to be, you seem to be forgetting your own things while remembering to bring everybody else’s, your smile seems strained, and you just look stressed

He is so incredibly empathetic- it pains him to his s/o look so distraught 

It does anger him a bit that these people can so easily take advantage of you, and not even care that you arent feeling your best because of what they asked of you

But he swallows down the anger, offering to help you with whatever you need at your dorm room

He tries to make it as stress free as he possibly can, bringing your favorite snacks and playlist of music to calm your mind

But at some point hed give you a very gentle talk,,,,

He knows you havent been feeling too great, whether you deny it or not, and he wants you to know that its perfectly okay to not say “yes” to every person

He knows you mean well and you want to help everyone out of the generosity of your heart, and he loves that about you

But you as a person are important, and you come first over anyone

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Bakugo

Like Midoriya, just LOVES your body

Like cmon, how can he NOT

Dude is a ass+boob man change ma mind 

At first he deifnitely denies it-

Him??? Stare at your ass??? Pshh he was looking at the oven baka, if anything your ass was blocking his view-

You would know you caught him red handed cause he face would get redder than Momo’s hero suit and he would actually stutter—-

Which would make him extrmeely annoyed and he’d be cussing a storm+be in a grumpy mood for an hour or two

But once you two get more comfortable in your relationship-

NO HOLDING BACK

He will have use every opportunity to just be meannnn

And by mean

I mean turn slapping your ass into some sick game

Like if you dont yelp and cuss him out whats the point?

Once he slapped you so hard he legit left his big ass hand print on your butt cheek and you were about to slap his smug ass back....

But off a 50ft building  🙃

Also a big softie too

Like when you to cuddle he loves cuddling into your chest 🥺🥺

To him it’s just so comfyyyyyyyyyy

Honestly, Bakugo can’t understand at all how you can be so nice to people

It confuses him???? But he finds it really....nice???

Like half the stuff you do for people Bakugo wouldn’t ever dream of doing

He knows he’d either give that person an intimidating, dirty look or just laugh at them, cause yeah right he’d waste his time with their stupid problems

Ouchhhhhhhh

But you are totally different than him-you had a lot more patience and sympathy than he had, always coming to everyone’s rescue it seemed like

He finds it attractive and to him, it confuses the hell out of him how he does

But what bothers him is how much time you spend away from him

He won’t ever admit it, but he feels lonely when you’re not around

And what’s even worse-is by the time you do hang out with him, your too tired to even properly pay attention to him after running around and doing everything for everyone else

Bakugo the Attention Whore

One day this dude would have enough, as he’s been getting the bad end of the stick for a good couple of weeks——

He just barges into were ever your at, and doesn’t give to shits what so everrrrr

Bakugo has one mission in mind: getting his s/o back

Wouldn’t acknowledge anyone but you, grabbing your wrist and yanking you out of the room even if your protesting with him

“The hell are you doing Bakugo, let go-“

“No 😠”

“Pleaseeeeeee I was in the middle of working on something-“

“I said NO 😠😠😠”

Angry Pomeranian Activated

Once stop dragging you until he locks you in his room, forcing you to hear him out

He HATES being emotional or open, but at that, he starts spilling his guts through gritted teeth and choppy sentences,,

Saying that you waste too much time in thise “extras”, that they don’t deserve as much time as you give them, and that you have more “important” things than do all their work for them

*cough cough him being the more important thing

But hoenstly, you feel a little bad for him,,,,,

So you compromise with him and promise you’ll spend more time on him

He’s pretty happy with that,

but now he takes it one step further to make sure you deifnitely have enough time to hang out with him

If he’s around when someone asks you for help, he’ll cut them off and lie straight theough his teeth, saying you two have a “date” and squeezing you close to him with an iron grip

“Wait-Bakugo-we didnt have a date planned-“

“Tsch, now we do-“

Shoto Todoroki

I have said this timeeee and timeeee againnnn

But Shoto really is the definition of innocence

So really, it wouldn’t ever dawn on him on how killer his s/o’s body is

He’s just kinda like....yeah I know they have a butt and chest? Doesn’t everyone?😶

This poor Boi someone help him

It only really sets it after a few months of being together that he’s actually really, really in love with your body

Like how did he never notice how good you look in leggings?

Or how soft and comfortable your chest is?

And why does he want you to squeeze him with your thighs? 😳

Hormones are ragingggggg

And also veryyyyyyyy protective over you

Shoto is very observant and quiet in social situations, usually opting to check out his surroundings instead of trying to be sociable

So he’ll catch from time to time classmates commenting on you and your figure, and it never sits very well with him

At first when these incidences happened he was very conflicted, not understanding this intense jealousy and need to protect you

But after a while of contemplating his feelings, he understood it was because he was protective of you

And ohohoohohoh

This man is PROTECTIVE

He does little things you would never reallly notice until you actually do

Like when he takes you home after hanging out or a date, he lingers a little longer outside your door to make sure you’re inside safely

Or when you’re walking together he will make sure your walking inside the street and away from the cars

Also has a tendency to grab your waist or your hand when a group of men come your way

He just gets paranoid okay 🥺🥺🥺

And because he’s so protective, he doesn’t practically like that you’re being taken advantage of sometimes because of your kindness

Especially when it comes to other men

On a few occasions Shoto has spotted you in a sticky situation with a guy who was being a little too close for comfort

It would make you uncomfortable of course, you had a boyfriend you already loved a lot-

but you felt kind of bad just being a total bitch to this guy who desperately wanted a chance

So you’d just awkwardly laugh and smile with their stupid pick up lines, trying your best to be polite but also show you weren’t interested

But Shoto at this point has radar for when your in trouble, and just pops out of nowhere 💀

He’s not the type to flaunt his relationship by impulsively kissing you or anything like that, but he’ll show it in subtle ways

Like calling you “dear” or wrapping his arm around your waist

Honestly, the look of pure relief and comfort in your face shows more than Shoto could have ever done,,,

And that Shoto was deifnitely someone that was more than just a “guy fiend” and soemthing like that

Also Shoto would give them a look that could kill and that instantly scares the shit out anyone lmao

These dudes faces would deflate like balloons real quick, cause at this point everyone knows who Shoto Todoroki is

And how the hell can they compete with that

Instant “oh shit my bad” type energy

After those incidents, Shoto locks down way harder

He practically has you glued to his side, and he doesn’t let go

Like at all

Get used to it cause for the rest of the day Shoto is gonna be following you around like some body guard 💀

© Violetnote 2020

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