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crispywriter · 1 month ago

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Halsin's bleeding. Again.

And it's not just a little bit of blood—like from a graze after falling over, or a slip of the fingers whilst handling a knife—no. There's blood oozing down the left side of his face, hair and leaves stuck in the red as it streaks down his skin, dripping down his square jaw and staining the leather of his armour a dark red. The giant elf fills your doorway, grinning down at you despite his bruised, ruffled appearance, clearly rather pleased with whatever mischief he's been up to.

"Oak Father's great bushy beard—" You drop your knife and the aloe leaf you'd half-peeled onto your workstation table and swerve around your furniture to get to the druid, grabbing his bloodied face in your hands and dragging his head down to eye-level, inspecting the dirty, jagged wound. "What have you done to yourself now?"

There's four distinct scratches across the left side of his forehead, three of the nasty streaks ripping through his thick eyebrow. They're deep—not at all evenly spaced enough to have come from any kind of weapon you're familiar with.

"Gods, woman, be careful." Halsin winces as you just about dig your thumb into the smallest, leftmost slice, inspecting the wound as best you can what with so much blood seeping out and obscuring it. His large fingers wrap gingerly around your wrists and he pulls your hands away before he straightens up. "Let me get inside first."

You suck your teeth and step back out of your entryway, throwing a now very red hand toward the inside of your humble little home, flicking blood everywhere and sighing. "By all means, invade my space." You huff down at the crimson smattered on your floor and then look back up as the large elf shoulders his way past you, your eyes narrowing and tone sharpening as you watch him head right for your bed. "Don't you even think about it, Halsin. Sit at the table."

The druid tips his head back, his eyes rolling as he lets out a dramatic groan, but he complies with your command—steering himself away at the last possible moment from your clean blankets and taking a seat at your small dinner table instead. It's quite comical—how big Halsin is sitting on one of the regular sized wooden chairs, looking part giant with his knees tucked up and his shoulders hunched over as he faces you. You kick your front door closed and detour to your workstation, collecting a pitcher of clean water, an unused bowl and rag on your way to the dining table.

Halsin watches you silently. His green eyes are inquisitive as he observes you pour the water into the bowl and dip the rag into it, blinking at you as you stand as close as you can without getting too much into his space, gently picking the leaves and hair from the wounds so you can begin to clean it.

He's been like this since the day you met him all those decades ago, still just a boy. Cheeky, too curious, mischievous, always disappearing into the most treacherous parts of the forest far from the Grove and coming back hours, days, even weeks later covered in gore and filth, some kind of trophy in hand and a pleased smile plastered on his face. There's always been discussion about him, disapproving eyes shooting glares his way, coupled with years of rebuke—the elders say he's cocky, reckless, unaware, that he'll never grow out of it—despite him still being so young, despite his uncomparible strength, despite being the most powerful healer the druids have seen in centuries. But these things only seem to cause him to be all the more rebellious, something you're rather fond of deep down, his friendship and reliance on you never once tiresome or draining. You've had him sitting at your table countless times, much as he is now, while you stitched split skin back together as he complained, or had him delirious with poison-fever in your bed, sputtering nonsense as you spoon-fed him and nursed him back to full health again.

"Why do you never simply cast a healing spell?" Halsin says—as has become his routine.

You tut your tongue and sweep his hair back again, brushing the long russet tresses over his broad shoulders and hopefully well out of your way. "My skill lies in practical healing, Halsin." You try not to crowd him too much, but you're bent at a rather uncomfortable angle like this, dipping the dirtied cloth back into the water as you clean him up, "something you well know as we've had this conversation near a hundred times. You're the most talented healer I know, why not just cast a spell on yourself and save all the trouble? It'd certainly save you all the fuss of having me clean you up."

The druid huffs and hunches forward, his large body closer now and a modicum easier to reach. "Isefa likes to remind me of how I am not to rely entirely on my magic." Your Grove's First Druid is perhaps the only other creature that sees Halsin in a positive light—sees the great potential in him. "Potions and poultices and what have you are just as important. Which I will never understand." He rolls his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head. "You wouldn't have the time to whip out a vial and drink in the heat of battle—it's not as if the enemy will patiently wait their turn to strike."

"And what if you've been silenced? A potion would do you a great deal of good then." You're stepping into the space between his parted knees before you can really think too hard about it, thumb and forefinger on his chin as you tip his head back toward the sunlight still thankfully streaming in through your kitchen window, set to work on cleaning the actual cuts themselves now. "Or perhaps you're travelling with a non-magic user? If you were to fall in a fight, how could they possibly heal you?"

You brush the cloth over the first of the gnarled splits in his skin, and Halsin's eyes are angry as he looks up at you, clearly frustrated by the topic he's chosen to speak on. "And if I were alone and subdued? Restrained? What good are moss concoctions for my injuries then?"

"Halsin." You immediately pause in cleaning him, placing the cloth back down into the water bowl and your other hand gently on his shoulder. "You talk as if you must choose either magic or medicine—you know it's not my intention to speak greater of one over the other, rather that we learn both so that we may use the best of both."

The handsome, irresponsible druid stares up at you, the stubborn set of his jaw clenching twice before he the fire in his green eyes ceases. You pick up your cloth and find yourself cradling his face in one hand as you work carefully over the second gash. "I apologise." He mumbles, pursing his lips in a silly pout you've seen a million times.

"It's fine." You brush your thumb over his cheekbone, flashing him a soft smile. "Though perhaps you shouldn't choose to speak about things you know will make you angry."

It's quiet a moment, the druid allowing you to work in peace, wincing every now and then when it gets a little too sensitive. You're as careful as you can be—gods know you've been much rougher with him on more than one occasion in the past.

"It was a bear." He says suddenly, softly, chuckling to himself. "I was in wildshape."

"I hope you're not about to tell me you've been in bear-form for the entirety of the three months you've been gone." You hum, totally anticipating him to say how he's been doing just that, but nonetheless still shocked by the expected confession.

"It was necessary. And don't chastise me for it—I heed the warnings. Usually." He doesn't.

"I would very much like to lecture you, but since you're bleeding I'll put it in my back pocket for now." You shake your head, "at least it explains why you're so grumpy today." At mid-wipe you pause, your gaze lifting to the window across from you as the reality of what Halsin has just said dawns on you. "Wait... Isn't it mating season?" You glance down at the tall druid and he looks amused, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"She was quite offended by my rejection." He's grinning now—ear to ear, totally pleased with himself.

Your mouth falls open around a breathy laugh of disbelief and you lower the cloth from the elf's face, completely gobsmacked as you thwack your free hand against his chest. "You did not go wandering about in the forest in the middle of godsdamned mating season!" Halsin catches your wrist before you can bat at him a second time, holding your palm flat against his chest as he laughs, his head tilting back in delight, obviously pleased by your reaction to his reckless behaviour. "Silvanus help us all—you stupid fool, what were you thinking?"

"Not about female bears or the rut, I assure you." There's something about the way that the word 'rut' sounds rolling off of Halsin's tongue that sends a fizzle of heat down your spine. "There's... strange things happening in the village. At Moonrise. A camp of goblins came through, stayed in the outskirts and used spells to hide—Thaniel is worried."

You hear the strain in his voice. "Regardless, what you did was foolish." You've gotten closer to the druid amidst the laughter, and when you lift the cloth back up to his face, Halsin has to tip his head backward completely. "Did Isefa send you?"

He shakes his head just slightly. "They camped far too close to the Grove. I could sense them, I'm sure Isefa could too, but I had to investigate. They clearly weren't here for us, but even that knowledge didn't cool my blood." You feel one of his strong hands on the back of your calf and your body hums with sudden warmth at the proximity. His face is level with your chest, almost resting upon it, and you wet your bottom lip before you find you instinctually raise your hand to slip it around the back of his neck, holding him tenderly as you continue to clean his wound. "I tracked them across the forest, spent three weeks on the borderline of Moonrise Towers. The guards were shockingly ignorant of the presence of a huge beast."

"You could've gotten hurt." You blink slowly, realising what you've said and scowling at the smile slowly spreading across his face. "Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. It's not an easy punishment for tresspass—Ketheric seems a kind man, but you can never be too sure."

"They didn't know." Halsin protests gently and you feel his arm snake further around your legs and it forces you even closer, your body pressed right up against his. "In any case, the bear was surely far more frightening."

"I'm not sure... This feels... significant." You take a shaky breath, trying to ignore the rapid beating of your heart. Since when did this man have this kind of effect on you? It must be the information he's told you. Nobody likes goblins. "Are you planning on telling anyone about this?"

"Isefa, yes. The elders? Absolutely not." Halsin replies indignantly. "You know they wouldn't listen to me."

There's a brief moment of silence, the depths of his injuries much clearer now they're cleaner. You sigh softly and feel the imposing elf thumb rubbing absent half-moons at your leg. "Calypsa was rather put out when you didn't show face at her nameday celebration. I wonder what she'll think when she sees what you've gotten yourself into this time?"

Halsin groans, the weight of his head dropping back further into your hand, your nails scratching at the back of his skull as you smile. "Gods, don't even start."

"Her mother is quite determined to see the two of you together, it seems." You tease, dipping the cloth once more into the muddied red water. "Says it'd calm you down to take a good, level-headed druid by your side."

"Is that so?" You feel Halsin's large fingers squeeze at your calf, the touch burning even through your trousers. "Most of the mothers here gossip like old crones. Though I suppose matchmaking their children makes them happy, since druid's are famously noncommittal."

"Yes, well, they must keep occupied somehow." You have to focus harder on the task at hand to stop from reacting to the low rumble of his voice, cleaning the last little bit of the wound, the skin raised, raw and pink under your careful touch. "I can't really imagine you ever settling down anyway."

The elf smiles, raising his injured eyebrow as he looks up at you. "Ah? Why not?"

"You'd be a pain, for one." You swat the dirty cloth at him playfully before you drop it into the water bowl, then raising your hand to inspect the gash, blood seeping much slower now. "All the druids here are far to soft for you. You're a tad rebellious—I don't know if anyone's told you that before."

"Hmm..." Halsin's grin grows as you tease him, his chin still tilted back, head sitting heavy against your palm that continues to rest on the back of his neck. "Only a tad?"

"Maybe a little more." You smile back at him, then sigh deeply, your eyes flitting between the unwavering focus of the large druid's own and the fresh scratches carving up his face. "It's nasty. You may as well heal yourself, you know." You say softly. "I have herbal remedies, but they—"

"I want you to do it." Halsin interrupts, his palm is up around the back of your thigh now, trying to draw you closer. He's almost unblinking, his eyes clearer green than you've ever seen them. "You have to teach me your natural remedies, remember? Like you do every time."

"I don't—" You falter, "—it's not going to be enough. It'll scar. Badly." By Silvanus's hand, how much blood did he lose? What's with all this brewing tension?

"I'm not afraid of having scars. As you well know." The elf whispers and tips his head slightly to one side to show the one across his chin, but it forces your gaze to his and your breath catches, eyebrows furrowing as you try to convince yourself there's about a thousand reasons not to cross this line. He's your friend—you're friends. "I want it to scar." His voice is softer than the brush of wind over flower petals, expression sweeter than the wild honey he loves so much. "Then every time I see it, every time someone asks me of it, I'll think of you."

*~*~*

sorry y'all, this one probably isn't gonna go anywhere. i can't get the plot to plot. but I really liked this beginning so here you go!

#halsin x reader #crispywrites #bg3 #halsin #halsin x tav #young halsin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #drabble #tw blood

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shuastar · 1 month ago

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Between Softened Silks and Gilded Thrones (KMG) - pt.1

masterlist; next

pairing: mingyu x reader

warnings: KIM MINGYU HIMSELF IS A WARNING; none for this chapter except for sexual jokes (only one!), death threats (um two?), childhood memories </3

a/n: FINNALY OMG when i tell you im so excited for this, i'm SO excited for this. if you think wonwoo's was hot...mingyu .... he's just so hot i can't. i'm like creaming (hahaha lol /jk!!) just kidding!!! anyways, have fun reading, and always, lmk if u wanna be on the taglist for this whoresssss (very kindly)!

y/n

“Students, please rise for the walking of our flags.”

The dining hall, previously messily noisy with chatter and laughter, diluted to a quiet hush, a thick blanket that fell over the students, dressed sharply in their uniform. The back-most doors – double and oak – slammed open on its golden hinges, revealing five boys, the first and last holding the school’s standards and the middle three bearing the flags of Obella, Xiawei, and Estoran, arms straining under the weight of the heavy flags.

From some corner of the dining hall, the music restarted in a mellow sort of canon that echoed through the ears of everyone sitting on the hard wooden chairs, pushed close to both the tables and each other.

The Dean of Schools smiled, proudly watching as the three flag-bearers turned to their respective flag slots, letting the pole drop down into its holding. The BANG!s rang out in the quiet hall, effectively stopping the music.

The five boys turned towards the rest of the students, the five now raised higher on the steps to the speaking platform.

The Dean opened his arms. “Greetings! And welcome to another semester in the National Academy!” his voice boomed through.

There was a slight beat of silence before students – after glancing around at others – broke out into hesitant applause that slowly built itself into a roaring ovation, including whoops and cheers.

The Dean nodded approvingly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing to you, your five Academy Standards of this semester,” he continued, “Please save applause till the end.”

He was handed a tightly-bound scroll from another student, standing just off at the edge of the speaking platform. He cleared his throat before starting.

“With the Academy’s golden standards, Jeong Jaehyun of Obella and Lee Seokmin of Obella!” The Dean let the scatterings of whoops and yells from the Obellan boys table die down before continuing. “With the National colors, Kim Mingyu for Obella,” here, the Dean was required to pause his announcement of the boys because the most ear-splitting, gut-wrenching screams and applause erupted from almost every corner of the dining hall, threatening to split the Dean’s smile wider, “Xu Minghao for Xiawei, and Kunpimook BamBam for Estoran!”

This time, there was no pause before the volcanic standing ovation the five boys received, all five of them almost keening at the attention (some more than others).

You had the utter displeasure of selecting a seat too close to the manic Obellan girls who seemed to just about scream their lungs out when Mingyu turned to give them a fleeting glance. You grimaced as the screams felt ear-splitting.

“He’s been a standard for the past two semesters. You would think they would get tired of screaming,” you sigh, slumping in your seat, dipping your spoon in and out of your congee that lay slowly turning colder by the minute.

“Well, he is a prince,” Yuqi states, looking possibly even more bored than you as she slowly brought a leaf of bok choy up to her lips to nibble on discreetly as the Dean tried to hush the (manic) student body.

“Still doesn’t make sense why they treat him like some world famous star,” you huffed. “He’s not even that cute.”

Yuqi laughed at that, brushing her hair out of her face to look at you properly. Dimly, you heard the Dean announce for everyone to start eating.

“You really don’t think he’s that cute?” Yuqi asked.

“Of course not. Why? You think he’s cute? What strange taste in men you have, Qiqi.”

Yuqi rolled her eyes, moving back to her plate of food, only to stifle a loud laugh when Mingyu pulled out a chair right behind you, sitting down in between his group of rowdy friends, slinging an arm around his new girl blessed enough to be able to run her hands down his chest for this week.

You couldn’t help but let out a fake gag, face twisting into an expression your mother would kill you for.

“Absolutely disgusting. And he still calls himself a prince,” you muttered, shaking your head, opting instead to turn back to a less grotesque image: your cold mushroom congee, char siu, and steamed bok choy.

From next to you, you heard Yuqi laugh, choking slightly on her water.

“Stop laughing! You know I’m right. He never takes anything seriously and just goes off flirting with half of the Academy–”

You never got the opportunity to finish your sentence because at that moment, someone tapped your shoulder from the back, making you turn away from your untouched plate of food.

“Wha-”

“-Is your default being miserable and hard to deal with?”

You blinked, staring dead straight at Kim Mingyu who ever-so-slightly loomed over you even when sitting. When you realized what he had said, your lips curled up into the faintest mocking smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did what I said hurt your little royal pride?” You taunt, huffing before turning back to your table.

Mingyu grabbed your shoulder, forcefully turning you back to face him. You shoved his hand off of your blazer, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, now with the company of his friends.

“What is your problem,” you snapped.

“Y/n–” Yuqi started, only to be interrupted by Mingyu’s huff of taunting laughter.

“What is my problem? What the hell is your problem? It’s the first day of the semester and–”

“-And you’re already out here pretending to be better than us–”

“-I can’t ever recall what I did for you to–”

“-What you did? How about what your country did? Can you recall that, your highness?”

There was a hush that fell over your vicinity as you stood up, chair streaking across the floor. Mingyu looked like he wanted to stay something, except at Yuqi’s sharp look, you saw him slowly close his mouth and turn back to his table. As you walked out of the dining hall, back to its lively atmosphere, you glanced back, unexpectedly meeting Mingyu’s eyes as Seokmin, from his seat next to the flag bearer, whispered something in his ear that made him frown, muttering something back.

“He’s just immature,” Yuqi mumbled as she turned to make you face forward, pushing you out of the dining hall and into the cold hallway.

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The library was usually not this loud at five in the afternoon.

Which is why you prided yourself when you arduously climbed the winding staircase in the law corner of the Greane Library to haul you and your miserably weighted bag up to the third floor study corners overlooking the Field. The third floor was notoriously known for being completely empty, save for the time when students on the War and Diplomatics track would come up to skim through the Diplomatic textbooks shoved to a corner of the bookshelves separating the study corners.

You passed three study corners, all empty, to reach yours (well, not technically), the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, illuminating every ridge of the antique oak desk. Except-

“-Jihoon?” Your surprised voice echoed through the empty third floor, bouncing off of the old, dusty, cloth-backed books that were falling apart at the spines. Your bag thudded heavily on one of the chairs.

A mop of black hair looked up, strands sticking up in the air. Dark circles crowned under tired eyes, drooping already as the warmth of the spring afternoon sun shone in, refracting colors. A hand rose in a bleak and heavy greeting before his forehead met the opened pages of his textbook with a loud THUMP, followed by a muffled groan.

“I hate this place,” Jihoon complained, head rising. You had to force yourself to not laugh when he rose with a big red mark on the middle of his forehead.

You pulled out a chair, soft against the carpeted floors, sitting down in front of him. “Finals? I thought Strategy and Politics only had an open discussion?” You opened your bag, taking out an ink well, fountain pen, textbook, and notebook. Your lamp clicked on automatically when you waved your hand in front of it.

Jihoon nodded, closing his textbook with a massive sigh, sliding down his chair. “A three hour open discussion and a war strategy simulation on the Great War.”

“What Great War? Isn't there like five?”

“Exactly.”

Your hand stilled as you dipped your pen inside the ink pot. “So you don’t know what you’re going to get?”

“It seems so.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Jihoon’s face fell at every word he uttered, frown lines wrinkling his forehead and the space between his eyebrows. Although he was your year, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he picked up his carved-down pencil again, scribbling tired words onto his fat notebook.

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do amazing. I know it,” you consoled, capping your pen to instead dig through your bag. Your eyes brightened when your fingers brushed a cardboard box, decorated with a ribbon. With a flourish, you pulled the box out onto the table. Hesitant hands slowly pushed the box towards Jihoon’s drooping head.

He looked up, a questioning sort of sound escaping his lips.

You smiled, your hair tumbling over your shoulders. “A present.”

“For?”

“You. Consider it an effort of my toils.”

“Toils? You?” Jihoon let out a small laugh, but he pulled the box towards him when you teasingly reached for it back. He shook his head with a rare grin. “No need to get defensive. I’m just saying. A princess? Toiling?”

“Hey!” You huff, “I bought this out of the kindness of my heart when I went home yesterday.”

Jihoon visibly perked up at those words, unwrapping the box with great care. The smile on his face grew when he lifted a box, opening it to find a pair of topaz cufflinks, delicate and studded with the small gem in a small circle around the main design. He gently placed the velvet box back inside the wrapping with a small sigh.

“You didn’t have to, y/n,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but giggle when he tried to cover his blushing ears.

“It was nothing. Plus, don’t you remember when you brought me those candies from Obella? I think those were one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you laughed, returning to your schoolwork.

Jihoon nodded pensively, tucking the present into his backpack. “Those are really good,” he hummed, then almost as an afterthought, he added, “They’re Mingyu’s favorites actu–” and then he suddenly stopped, lips pursed when he realized how your expression had suddenly fallen. He cleared his throat with a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

You waved him away with a huff, dipping your pen back into the ink pot. “Don’t be like that. I’m not going to combust if I hear his name.”

Jihoon let out a snort of laughter. “Why do you hate him anyways? He’s a year younger than us.”

“I don’t hate him,” was your automatic response.

“Liar.”

“I’m serious.”

“Okay fine. Why do you severely dislike him?”

You gave Jihoon a deadpan look. “He’s annoying.”

“That’s all?”

“And excessively flirty, seriously stupid, loud, obnoxious, happy-go-lucky, and the prince.” You said everything so matter-of-factly that Jihoon seemed to just stare at you, processing your words.

After a beat of silence, “Isn’t happy-go-lucky something that’s good?”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jihoon shrugged, closing his notebooks and sliding them into his bag. “Why does him being the prince have to do with anything?”

You clicked your tongue. “We’ve been over this. He’s the prince of Obella. I’m the princess of Xiawei.”

“I’m Obellan.” Jihoon gave you an eyebrow raise that you refused to acknowledge.

“You’re different. You’re not annoying like everyone else,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Jihoon laughed, poking your puffed cheek with a quick finger, dancing out of your reach when you went to slap his hand away. “Whatever you say.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and snatching his blazer from the seat next to him. “I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

You smiled as you nodded. “See you later!”

You returned Jihoon’s quick wave as he disappeared through the tombs of the Greane Library, messy black hair waving gently with every step.

***********************************************************************

“I never imagined our first visit to be under these…” your brother trails off as the carriage wheels rumble over the cobblestone road of the Capital, “conditions.”

You scoff at his words, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen into your paled face. You pluck off a stray hair from your red ruqun – a delicate silk hand-woven from the imperial tailor shop of Xiawei. “Neither did I.”

When the carriage slows, the hushed chatter of voices leaking into the curtained windows of your gilded cage, your brows furrow, taking a gloved hand to gently peel away the velvet curtains. Your eyes squint as the blazing Obella sun, so different in its intensity than the warm comforting rays of the gardens of Xiawei. Even from within the guarded carriage, you can hear the whispers and the sharp glares of the crowd that is gathering around your slowing carriage. The horses whine as the driver clicks his tongue, trying to calm them as he waits for the palace guards to open the blasted iron gates.

Perhaps your face was slowly turning sour by the passing minute or perhaps you looked too ill-disposed because in the next second, Minghao pulls the curtain from your tight fingers, a loud scratch as he pulled the curtain shut and all evidence of Obella’s harsh rays disappeared with the crowded whispers and looks.

You blink. “That was unnecessary,” you state, leaning back into your seat as the carriage lurches again, starting forward slower than before but still moving into what you and your younger brother presume is the castle – no, palace.

Minghao just shrugs from his seat across you, face arranged into an expression, you guess, is in between grudging obedience and lamentable loathing. His posture is impossibly straight – almost rigid – against the cushioned seats of the carriage as you roll across the raised platform and into the grounds of the royal palace.

You rattle along with the carriage as it makes its way around the loop of the palace courtyard, stopping haltingly with a neigh of the horses.

“Are we–”

Minghao is effectively cut off by a sharp rap, followed by three more, against the doors of the carriage.

You suck in a breath as you peek out the window, only to see the magnificent towering Obellan palace, gilded in gold and spires decorated with amethysts so big you could use them as formidable paper weights.

“We have arrived,” comes the muffled voice of the driver, drawling and so obviously bored with his decided task.

When your younger brother raises his brow in question, you nod, letting him stand up, hunched, as he opens the door.

The first sight you’re blinded with is people. Just row after row of people, all dressed in what Obella supposedly thinks is a great display of their wealth (or power, who knows). And in the very middle, three people – lined in a small triangle and glinting with what seems to be gold-hinted armor.

Minghao steps off of the carriage, offering his hand up to you with a smile. You feel your expression soften at the sight of your brother, so starkly different amongst these Obellan nobles, forced to accompany you in this diplomatic envoy to the very country that had left yours in tatters.

The only tell – rare, usually, to see from him – of his anxiety in this foreign place is his outstretched hand, pale at the fingertips and shaking as he awaits yours.

Your golden fengguan, chosen by Yuqi to accompany your gold-embroidered ruqun, feels so much heavier at that moment.

Your fingertips meet the palm of Minghao’s hand and you duck, stepping out of the carriage and down the steps until your hanfu touches the cobblestone ground. Immediately, the whispers start again and Minghao visibly stiffens next to you, his arm robotically lowering when you tap his hand.

The two of you stand, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as the carriage whisks away behind you, leaving you bare to the nobles standing before you. A quick glance to your brother threatens to pull a laugh from your lips.

His brows are furrowed in the same way as they would be if he was studying for his finals in the Academy and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth.

“Nervous?” you tease, mouth barely moving when you see the three-person welcome group start walking towards you when they realize you have no intention of moving.

Minghao imperceptibly shakes his head. “No,” then, after a pause in a much more worried voice, “Should I be?”

You smile, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends. Do you think we’ll be paraded around like war spoils or treated like delegated guests?” The question is infinitely rhetorical and it stills Minghao into a silence that is tenser than his usual presence.

The jarring footsteps grow louder against the cobblestones and you watch as the three stop in front of you and your brother.

Closer now, you can see all three of their faces, glowing, almost, in the afternoon sun. And if this was any other time, you would have laughed, maybe run into two of their arms with the brightest smile on your face. But this situation seems too tilted to their side for you to feel any other emotion but betrayal. Pure flaming betrayal that simmers deep in your stomach.

“Prince Minghao.” Kim Mingyu’s voice is echo-y across the courtyard and hushes any other voice down to silence. Then, he turns his heavy gaze to you, pinning you down where you stood.

Mingyu seems to be, in every way, shape, and form, the same from his days in the Academy. Perhaps taller, more muscular, more handsome in the regal (disgusting) way (though you refuse to admit that fact). His gold-plated armor decorating his well-built figure glitters like a second sun, refracting and reflecting the golden rays. His shoulders are wide-set and he stands tall, proud, with his dark hair falling gently in his face, swaying with the currents of the light breeze that carries the scent of Obella’s spring flowers into your nose.

“Princess Y/n.” His smirk is as sharp as the blade at his side, your name rolling off his tongue in a teasing jab. His voice is smooth, polished, and entirely too smug for your taste – like violently rubbing salt into a throbbing wound that has yet to scab over.

Bitterly, you reply, “Prince,” and that one word alone leaves a sour aftertaste in your mouth. If your mother could see you right now, she would be rolling in her grave. The princess of Xiawei, greeting someone else in the place as an envoy-hostage.

Minghao stutters in his bow when you don’t make any move to bend.

Mingyu gives you the faintest tilt of the head, brows rising.

“A little late, aren’t we?” Mingyu hums, arms crossing and causing the sunlight to bounce off of his royal crest and directly into your face. He grins at your misfortune and you’re almost one hundred percent sure he did that on purpose.

“Yes, well,” your lips turn down, matching his head tilt, “even a princess can’t control carriage traffic, it seems.”

Your words are clipped and cold. From behind Mingyu, Jihoon and Jeonghan, both classmates of yours at the Academy, stand awkwardly as Mingyu looks you up and down in what you assume is ill-fated interests. Both of them refuse to meet your eyes as if they know the real reason why you and your brother have been dragged here.

“Your highness,” Minghao suddenly interrupts, extending an arm towards the glittering palace. His face is arranged into a haunting expression. “Shall we go inside? My sister doesn’t fare well after long carriage rides.”

Almost as if his words are magic, you suddenly feel lightheaded, eyelids fluttering as you try to steady yourself. If anyone notices, they don’t comment.

Mingyu gives a sideways glance at Jihoon, who nods curtly, before grinning, turning on his heels. “To the palace, then. I wouldn’t want our precious princess to go on bed rest her first day in Obella!” He gives you a cheeky little wink that makes you want to poke his eyeball out of its socket. But you refrain. If not for political decency and societal manners, then for your brother’s reputation.

With gritted teeth, you reply with a curt, “Lead the way.”

The walk to the entrance is deathly silent, save for Mingyu’s occasional hums of a random song. Somehow, the two of you ended up walking side by side, making you sandwiched between Minghao on the right and Mingyu on the left, with Jihoon and Jeonghan trailing behind, furiously whispering with each other (you pretend you don’t hear them).

When you reach the giant double oak doors, the numerous guards littering the entranceway suddenly all let out a war-cry-esque yell of some kind before they salute Mingyu in what you assume is Obella’s salute. You can’t help but let your face wrinkle in displeasure.

Mingyu salutes back and in that moment, a small part of you wonders how the prince – who used to be the lollygagging, effortlessly smart, playboy extraordinaire of the Academy – had transformed into the Crown Prince (apparently, you weren’t too sure), that you see in front of you, smiling warmly and bowing to the palace workers who line the entrance room of the palace.

But that thought quickly vanishes when Mingyu leads you into the entrance hall because gilded statues, so great in size you know the workers had to haul them up from the antique dusty storage room, line the path into what you assume is the actual royal palace.

When you sneak a glance to Minghao, he is already in awe, glancing around the chandelier-bejeweled ceilings and carpeted path, eyes wide and mouth just slightly open.

He leans into you before whispering, “Do they always try this hard?”

A puff of laughter escapes your lips that has Mingyu’s head careening towards you and your brother in apt curiosity.

“Do you remember the Obellan kids from the Academy? Of course, always.”

You laugh again at Minghao’s awe-stricken nod, craning his head to try to see over the top of the winding staircases.

Mingyu clears his throat but makes no move to stop your conversation, instead leading the way further into the palace. You chew on your bottom lip as you walk through the halls, paraded down another set of gilded statues. You can’t help but notice how Mingyu’s shoulders shift determinedly under his armor, broad and strong even under the dim chandelier lighting of the palace. That thought returns to you again, instead now you wonder how his presence changed into such a commanding aura suited for such a powerful Crown Prince.

Though you would never admit out loud, of course.

“Are you impressed?” comes Mingyu’s sudden voice. He glances down at you with a grin dancing on his lips. For a split second, you think he’s asking about himself.

You tilt your head. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

Mingyu laughs. “So harsh.”

“Someone needs to tone you down,” you mutter, not even missing a beat. From beside you, Minghao gives you a warning look that you refuse to acknowledge.

Mingyu sighs, as if he’s content with your answer. “I missed you,” he hums. Your brows draw together and Minghao’s head snaps towards him. Then, almost as if Mingyu finally realized what he said, his eyes blow wide open, an awkward laugh escaping his lips.

“God, not like that!” he defends, hands rising as he suddenly completely stops in the middle of a hallway. Behind the three of you, Jihoon and Jeonghan also slow, blinking confusedly at the two of you. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair while his head shakes furiously from side to side. “No, don’t ever take it like that! I just meant that I missed the Academy days! You know? When we used to– god, not like that – when we would fight and stuff! But not in like a–”

You have to basically hold your breath to prevent your laughs from spilling out of your mouth, shoulders shaking as you try to remain composed. You hold your hand out, fingers splayed. “--I never took you for such an experimental person, your highness,” you say, managing the sentence without any laughter leaking out of your traitorous mouth.

You hear Jihoon and Jeonghan (as well as Minghao) stifle their laughter at your words.

Mingyu’s face is now aghast, his ears a blushing red as he goes to defend himself again.

But you cleanly cut him off, “If you liked me when we were in the Academy, you could’ve just said.” You offer a mocking little smirk that sets Mingyu’s jaw out of its socket and Jeonghan almost dying in laughter. And you swear that if it weren’t for the situation, it would have felt like you were back in the Academy, glorifying yourself in the midst of Mingyu’s embarrassment.

“It’s not like that!” Mingyu stutters, almost stumbling over his own feet when you turn away from him and walk down the hall. He grabs your upper arm – which earns him a well-timed glare from both you and your brother – before he walks in stride with you again, trying to rearrange his hair so that it lays neat. “I swear, Y/n,” he starts, and you try to ignore how easily your name flows from his tongue, as his eyes widen almost puppy-like and he shakes his head again, walking sideways, “it’s not like that! I just– it just came out wrong! Completely wrong! I’ve never liked you – not in the Academy, not after we graduated, and definitely not now. And I’ll–”

As he continues with his monologue of how much he apparently doesn’t like you, you can feel your irritation bubble in your stomach.

“--Never! Never ever! Okay?”

“I’m so glad you think of me as so unattractive you’ve never ever liked me,” you snap, jaw clenched as you try to walk faster down the hall.

Mingyu just stupidly nods, sighing in what you think is relief, almost. If he hears your scoff of disbelief, he makes no note of it.

Beside you, Minghao gapes at the two of you, eyes wide.

“What?” you snap.

He shakes his head. “No, no. I just–” he clears his throat, “Never knew you guys were this … close?”

You make a face, disgust clearly, or you hope, written all over it. “Close? Us? If anything, the only thing being here reminds me of is how much I detested that man when I was younger.”

Mingyu scoffs from next to you, but still opens the door into the private royal wing, letting you enter first (which you do, with the slightest upwards tilt of your chin).

“I was so likeable in the Academy!”

You roll your eyes, mouth curving into a displeasured frown. “Get over yourself. God, how is it that you haven’t changed at all?”

“I can say the same thing to you.”

“Shut up.”

“Is that all you have?”

“What, you want me to insult you?”

“Well, I don’t know, can you? Because all I know is that the only insult you can come up with is–”

“--Can we please save this bitch fight for later?”

You find yourself on the other side of Jihoon’s outstretched arm, with Mingyu across from you. Jihoon looks at you pleadingly in what you assume is code for back off please! So, you grudgingly step away, fixing your curled hair, huffing.

Jihoon gives a pointed look to Mingyu who pouts in response, before turning back to you.

“Your highnesses,” he starts, bowing curtly to both you and Minghao. “His majesty originally wanted to dine with the two of you, but due to some other matters, this plan has changed. He requests for His Highness to accompany me and Mage Yoon to the strategy room where his majesty will meet us. He has also told me to convey his wishes that your highness, Princess Y/n, be accompanied to her room by Prince Mingyu. There is a welcoming ball tomorrow night and his majesty has also requested your presence there, your highness.”

Jihoon finishes with a deep-set bow. From over his lowered shoulder, you see, with something between elation and horrification, Mingyu’s thunder-shaken face, such sharp handsome features stuck in a weird expression.

Minghao suddenly steps up, touch light on your arm. “Sir, I would prefer it if my sister and I didn't separate.”

Jihoon glances at Jeonghan, who shrugs, before turning back to the two of you. “I apologize, your highness,” he murmurs, eyes flitting over to you. “I have been ordered by the King.”

Minghao looks like he’s going to argue back so you intervene, patting your younger brother’s back. You gently shake your head.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do as the King wants,” you oblige, earning a worn, but thankful, smile from Jihoon.

“Thank you, your highness.” Jihoon gives you one more bow before ushering Minghao (who looks completely unaccustomed to people ordering him around) towards the strategy room with Jeonghan, who gives you one last look before following.

It leaves you, awkwardly standing, with Mingyu, who had, throughout the conversation, busied himself with gazing out the window like some love-stricken fool. He makes no move to turn back to you, which leaves you standing in the middle of the hall with aching legs because your hanfu is not meant for long-distance travel on foot.

As you stare at his back and he stares out the window, oblivious (or you hope) to the three who had left, you can’t help but feel relieved that you are placed under Mingyu’s care. At least he was a recognizable face, even if the only memories of him you can think to recall involve you yelling at him or vice versa.

Finally, Mingyu turns back to you, clearing his throat. His hands are clasped behind his back, trying to appear composed though the faint blush decorating the tips of his ears gives him away. “Well, Princess,” he says with exaggerated formality as he steps up to you.

It’s unfair, really, how the sun perfectly halos around his form so that it forces you to think that you’re laying eyes upon one of heaven’s very own angels. His tan skin – so much more golden than your days in the Academy – glows, perfectly supplementing his golden armor (or perhaps his armor was supplementing his skin?), and his eyes are warm and teasing. When he stops right in front of you, it forces you to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

When had he gotten this tall?

“Shall we? It seems fate has deemed us a perfect match for tonight.” His voice is light and teasing, almost purposefully airy so that it can slither through your cracks and make you laugh.

You raise a brow, discreetly shuffling backwards to give yourself more space between his Mingyu-ness and your personal bubble. “More like the king has,” you mutter, trying to maintain your distaste.

Mingyu just grins, offering his arm to you that you refuse. He shakes his head in faux disappointment, instead gesturing to you to follow. “Either way. I’m honored to be finally of service,” he hums. “Shall I carry you to your room or sing you a lullaby?”

Your face drops into a look of utter disdain as you scoff. Sadly, your reaction seems to only fuel his amusement. “You and I both know you can’t sing for shit.”

Mingyu gasps in horror. “I can sing!” He then slows his steps until he’s walking side by side to you. He leans down, face in yours. You will yourself to not pull back and instead keep walking (even though you can feel yourself heat up).

“You’ve just never heard me actually sing,” Mingyu argues.

You shrug. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Mingyu mutters something unintelligible and you’re not too interested in what he has to say, so you let him be, rolling your eyes when you see him pout.

“You’re such a child,” you sigh, turning the corner with him.

Glancing out the nearest window, you realize the sun has already half-set, basking your part of the palace in the prettiest shade of colors you’ve seen in the last couple months.

It seems that Mingyu has seen your staring because he clears his throat, pulling you out of your thoughts. When you turn to look at him with a sheepish look, he’s much closer than you thought he would be, causing you to almost crash into his chest, limbs stiff and pulled towards your own chest. Mingyu’s large hands – warm – steady you, firm around your shoulders.

“Woah,” he mumbles, “you okay?”

His words act as cold water sprayed over you and you blink, jolting, almost as you scramble back, dusting off your ruqun and straightening your fengguan from where it sits on the top of your head.

“Let’s go,” you sniff, turning towards a random end of a hallway.

Mingyu stops you, hand around your arm. “Dumbass, it’s the other way.”

You’re too busy trying to compose yourself that you just turn with his order, the insult not even registering properly.

You follow Mingyu down the hall, cheeks dusted with a light pink, and you try not to be too embarrassed as you hold your head up. As the two of you continue down the hall, the silence that follows is weirdly comfortable and comforting. You can feel yourself relaxing as Mingyu hums a soft melody, glancing back every so often at you. You take the intervals of a forward-facing Mingyu to study him. It’s been at least ten years (maybe less) since the Academy. You graduated before he did and then right away entered Xiawei’s Courts, ultimately pulling you away from any Academy holdings or other events. If you are honest with yourself, you thought seeing Mingyu again wouldn’t be as conflicting as it seems to be right now. And as you stare at his broad shoulders and thick arms, you feel that there is an odd familiarity in the Crown Prince’s presence that you convince yourself you are better off not acknowledging.

As you near what you presume is your chambers, there are guards loitering around the hallway, trying to play off what is so obviously an Obellan envoy-hostage game as some kind of “guards on break inside the palace.” This time, when the soldiers salute Mingyu, he looks a smidge uncomfortable, saluting back with less enthusiasm.

“Knights?” you ask, voice light but you know it has an edge of bitterness to it. “Just for a helpless princess like me? If I knew better, I’d think you were holding me hostage or something,” you hum. You keep on walking, trying to gauge Mingyu’s reaction from your peripheral vision as you continue down the hall.

Mingyu clears his throat, glancing towards one of the knights leaning against the wall. “It doesn’t hurt to have precautions,” he mumbles, and it surprises you to realize how little argument he has with your claims. And then you realize what he means.

Of course they were holding you hostage. It’s not like you had expected anything other than this treatment when you were coming from Xiawei. But still, hearing it from the very person who had called upon you under the guise of diplomacy bubbled a pot of frustration, bitterness, and betrayal in your stomach.

He stops in front of a set of double oak doors, handles a gleaming golden and manned by two guards who seem like they want to be doing anything but guard a foreign princess overnight.

“Yuqi arrived before you did. She’s in her quarters next door,” Mingyu suddenly states, turning on his heels to face you.

You raise a brow. “That’s,” you pause, eyes darting to the door just a few steps down the hall, “good to hear. She came fast,” you mumble, and your expression softens into one of tiniest gratitude towards Mingyu.

Then, he snickers behind his hand covering his mouth. “That’s what I always say,” he chortles, laughing at his own joke like he just said the funniest thing to exist.

And immediately, whatever gratitude or relief you had from his words disappears like it wasn’t there to begin with. You scoff, loud, pushing him to the side to wrench the door open, your eyes rolling.

Mingyu stumbles to the side, laughter dying to be replaced with a mocking smirk. “What? Oh, right,” he clicks his tongue, “You wouldn’t know what that means. Princess Prim and Proper.”

Halfway into your room, you glance over your shoulder at him and you hope your glare is heavy enough to pierce through his horribly thick skull (though quite handsome now). “Oh,” you sigh, “go fuck yourself, Crown Prince,” you snap. Your words echo in the hallway and it seems as though Mingyu hadn’t been expecting those words because the last thing you see when you slam your door shut behind you is Mingyu’s shocked face, the smirk diluted down to a surprised twitch of his lips, as if he didn’t know you could curse.

You shake your head as you look around the room.

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter to yourself as your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, the only light being the roaring fireplace on the other end of the room. Just because you hadn’t been with anyone like he had, all prancing around in his half-buttoned Academy uniform with his arm draped over a new girl every week like he needed a new prey to satiate his ever-growing hunger. The audacity still embedded into the stupid stupid Crown Prince almost makes you gag at the prospect of being stuck under his care for the god-knows-how-long period of time you’re caged in Obella as a hostage (oops, envoy!). For all you know, he might just leave you out to die – starve and dehydrate in the royal gardens or something. And when Jun visits you and Minghao like he said he would, your older brother is going to find you dead in some random side-alley of the palace.

God, the things you go through to–

Knock, knock.

You exhale sharply, dragging a tied hand over your face before turning towards the door. The last thing you want to see, or deal with, is him. Again! So soon! But when you heave open the heavy oak door, the figure standing in front of you makes you just about cry in joy.

All you’re awarded with is a familiar scent of vanilla, a wave of curly light brown, and a blur of dark silk before the door slams shut again.

“I hate you,” Yuqi hisses, gripping your arms as she stares into you. “Do you know what I had to endure in this ghastly place?”

Despite your exhaustion, you can’t help but bite back a loud laugh. “You already knew we were going to be sent up here.”

“Yes,” Yuqi groans, throwing her head back, “but while you rode in with Minghao, that doesn’t mean I was prepared to sit in a carriage with Zhong Chenle of all people, while he waxed poetic about the ‘delicate political and economic balance of this arrangement’ and gawked at all the passing noblewomen.” Yuqi throws her hands up, shaking her head in disgust that looked a little too real to be fake. “I thought about throwing myself out thrice.”

She has you almost choking in laughter, stepping aside to let her roam your room in relative peace. Yuqi gracefully takes on the silent offer, striding past you and frowning at the lavish Obellan style room before flopping dramatically onto the velvet divan, an arm draped over her eyes.

“Hey,” you hum, hands slapping down onto her shoulders, “you think you have it bad? Now I’m here and he’s here and I’m forced to breathe the same air as the Crown Prince of–”

“--Your nightmares? Horrors? Terrors?” Yuqi groans, hands going to rest on yours, shaking your arms as she turns around, facing you properly. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a laugh of disbelief. “It’s actually tragic!”

You roll your eyes, moving to pour yourself a cup of tea from the tray by the fireplace. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not horrible.”

Yuqi gasps, hands flying to cover her mouth. “This wretched place has already tainted you so,” she cries, hands slapping her knees.

You shoot her a dry look, sipping your tea. “I’ve been here for five hours, Qi.”

“Exactly! Long enough, apparently, to lose your sense of reason!” She shudders dramatically. “What’s going to be next? You’ll start saying he smells nice?”

Your face wrinkles into displeasure. “Ew no. He smells like sweat.”

Yuqi blanches, “You smelled him?”

“No!” You huff, “Of course that’s what he’s going to smell like, god, I don’t know! Stop asking questions!”

“You hate him!”

You blink. “I never said that.”

Yuqi stands up abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You just defended him! You–”

“--I never defended him!” you argue.

“Well, you did subconsciously! What happened to Qiqi, I’d rather drink poison than be stuck in the same room as him?” Yuqi narrows her eyes, stalking over to where you were standing. She is quiet before she scoffs at your aghast, blinking face. “Stockholm syndrome,” she states, hands flying up, almost hitting your teacup out of your hands. “It’s happening. Already.”

You sigh, gently setting the delicate porcelain down before she actually hits it out of your hands, and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yuqi, you’re being dramatic-”

“-No!” She collapses onto another sofa, fanning herself with a fan you didn’t even know she was holding. “I know you. I know how much you loathe him. How much you think he’s a horrible, wretched, useless little-”

“-Yuqi.”

“Fine, fine. Either way, you’re telling me that you think he’s not horrible? God, please,” Yuqi scoffs, arms crossing over her chest, rustling the delicate navy blue silk of her robes, “you’re either lying to yourself or his princely Obellan cooties have already wormed their way inside your brain like a goddamn parasite.”

You want to laugh, really, but the stringent way Yuqi stares you down has you weakly forcing out a snort. “Fine. I hate him. I think he’s horrible. Good?”

Yuqi stares. “And smelly.”

Now you really laugh. “Fine, yes. And smelly.”

“Say it again.”

“I hate him…” You trail off when the moon, shining so bright outside like a glittering silver platter catches your eyes. You don’t think you’ve seen it so big and round when you were back in Xiawei. Or maybe you didn’t have time to gaze out windows back home. Either way. When you take a step closer to the large french windows, suddenly, a scene, from just minutes ago, rapidly rewinds through your head.

His chest, large warm hands firm around your shoulders, and the ever-so-slightly present glint of worry (disgusting) that shone in his eyes for a split second.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

And you must be actually going insane because you feel heat creep up your neck and blush your cheeks and your lips finds themselves whispering a soft “...most of the time,” towards the window.

It makes Yuqi gasp so loudly you jolt, almost jumping in the air.

“Oh my god.” She clutches your wrist so quickly it almost gives you a whiplash. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft. Not for him.”

You scoff, backing away. “As if.” Your eyes, however, search for something else to look at.

“Come on, y/n, I know it’s been years but he’s still the same old mindless prince.”

“I know, Yuqi.”

“What did he say to you to deserve even a moment of hesitation?”

“Yuqi, come on.”

“I’ll stab him. Actually. What did he say?”

“Yuqi.”

“This is a national crisis, y/n! If you’re wavering, then we’re all forever doomed to be chained to this wretched, wretched land with no silk!”

You shake your head, pushing her back onto the couch with a shove. “I hate him,” you insist. “Okay? He’s insufferable, arrogant, and the only thing I’ve realized today was that I’d rather bite my own tongue off than listen to him speak again.”

Yuqi is quiet while she studies you meticulously, brown eyes tracing over your form as if she could read your aura or something. She finally sighs, slumping back onto the couch. “That’s better. You scared me for a second.”

You don’t dignify her dramatics with a response, shaking your head as you turn towards a countertop to set your jewels on.

“...But mark my words. If you ever hesitate again, know that I’m poisoning his wine.”

taglist...

#mingyu #gilded thrones!!#seventeen #seventeen royalty #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #gia's winter special #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu smut #seventeen royalty au #royalty!seventeen #MINGYU IS SO HOT I HAD TO LIKE REWRITE THIS FIFTEEN HUNDRED TIME BECAUSE I NEEDED TO GET HIMIN HIS FULL ESSENCE

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moonlitcelestial · 18 days ago

Text

Lipstick Stains - Hongjoong

Valentines Day Special

W/C ~2,782

☽ Masterlist ☾

♡ Lipstick Stains Masterlist ♡ Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez or Atiny. I will be attempting to keep it as gender neutral as possible but it will lean toward she/her pronouns.

Thanks for reading <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You were currently preparing dinner for the eight hungry monsters that were coming to your house for the weekly dinner. While hanging out at their dorm just about a year ago, you had mentioned the idea in passing. They had been chatting adamantly about missing all of the home cooked meals from their families. You were surprised they even heard you seeing as they had just barely started a debate on whose food was better. Wooyoung was loudly stating he makes the best meals. Once the words had come out of your mouth, much to Honjoong’s dismay, they almost jumped you for even suggesting you make them a home cooked meal. They leapt up and started chattering at a far quicker rate than which you could understand and continued getting increasingly louder then the earlier debate. Seonghwa was the one leading the rally being the foodie he is, although Wooyoung and Mingi were the loudest. You giggled to yourself at the memory of Hongjoong’s scolding of the boys. Once they finally settled down you had started making suggestions about what to do for dinner the next week. The boys hanging on to your every word. While you were speaking to them about it Hongjoong had a small smile on his face in awe of how you could catch their attention. He was also surprised they kept relatively quiet white you were speaking which was a miracle in itself. Hongjoong had always bragged to them about your home cooked meals and even gave them some when they were around. Although, he mostly hogged it to himself by hiding in his studio. Once you had left for the evening Hongjoong had messaged you stating how ecstatic they were for the following week. If you could use one statement to describe eagerness, it would be those boys when it comes to food even while they were dieting.

Since that day you had been keeping your weekly routine, their schedules permitting. Even when they could not attend, you made sure to pack them each a box and delivered it to them while they were at the studio. This was the one of the few times they had consecutively missed the weekly dinner. The boys just got back from their 6-week tour yesterday. They had begged you in the groupchat during the second week of their tour to make them dinner as soon as they got back. You knew they had worked hard through Atiny fancams and edits. Thus, you came to the conclusion that you would make several of their favorites to eat and take home for the time they missed. You had been planning this for the past few weeks and had extensively prepared yourself for the daunting task of making so much food. It had taken you all day, and you even had to recruit the help of your bestie and mom to make sure it got done before they got here. You startled as the music you were paying stopped and your notification sound went off loudly. Checking the message, you realized it was Hongjoong.

"Hi nae sarang, we are just leaving KQ. We will be there in about twenty minutes."

You smiled at the term of endearment and sent back a thumbs up, and kissy face emoji. Taking a step back you took the last dish off of the stove and brought it to the dining room. You placed it on the huge drop leaf table that you had for nights like this. The boys would be in for a treat as the huge table was almost completely filled with several food items. You looked at your handiwork and smiled.

Stepping into the living room, you checked that all of the things looked okay. You had recently rearranged the living room to make sure you could fit the rowdy bunch of 5 year olds comfortably on the couches. You also got a bigger tv for them to play games on. You really felt like a parent to them at this point with how spoiled they are when they come over here. The thing you were most proud of was the wall you dedicated to your chosen family. It had pictures of you and all of them, some without you, and your favorite picture. That one, which took a lot of convincing for Hongjoong to even consider it, hung front and center. You smile at the memory.

You had been scrolling on social media when you saw a couple doing what they called the lipstick kiss trend. You watched the genuine happiness on their faces, they were both all giggles in the process of her kissing him all over making sure the marks were prominent. They looked at eachother once she had completed her task and burst into a fit larger of giggles. They commemorated it by taking a picture which they posted at the end of the video. You had made up your mind to do that with Hongjoong even if you knew he would protest at first. It took you several days to convince him, and you did the trend and videoed it. The process was similar, and you made sure to have lipstick all over his face. The thing that stuck out to you was one of the several pictures he snapped with the remote you gave him to take pictures amidst the video. He was looking at you with such devotion; his dark eyes had that sparkle similar to when he finally gets something to work in the studio. You were giggling like a madman with your hand covering your mouth to help you stifle your laughter while he smiled at your joy. After that entire incident you looked at the photos and decided that one, in particular, was your favorite because of the genuine smiles on both your faces. It did not help that you absolutely loved covering him in your favorite lipstick and making him a giggling blushing mess in the process.

There was about 15 minutes until the rowdy bunch got to your house. You decided to take that time to freshen up and make yourself not smell like the food you prepared all day. Once you decided you looked presentable you applied a little bit of tinted chapstick and walked to the living room. You double checked to make sure you had your minifridge stocked with soju and any of the other kinds of alcohol that they mentioned in passing. Then you walked over to the entertainment center under the huge tv to make sure all of the controllers were charged for the game battle you knew would ensue. Tonight was going to be so much fun. You anticipated them staying here scattered all around the house in your three guest bedrooms and on the huge couch you just got. You knew they had the next few days off and you were more than happy to host them. Once you finished triple checking the things in the living room and dining room, you jumped as you heard the front door unlocking and swinging open violently.

The boys all burst through the door making sure to take off their shoes and putting them on the rack in the entryway. Once they finished they all smiled and piled toward you giving you various greetings of hugs and kisses on the cheek. Hongjoong smiled with one of the biggest toothy grins you had seen from him and he swept you into a large hug, spinning you around and kissing your lips sweetly. You melted into his embrace and kiss. Your small moment was interrupted by the various shouts of what you could assume was excitement from the living room. Hongjoong looked at you with raised eyebrows and grabbed your hand to lead you to investigate what the ruckus was about. Once you reached the living room, you could see all of the boys piled onto the large couch and looking over the room. Hongjoong looked at you with surprise while he took a step away from you to investigate the picture wall. His eyes immediately fell to the picture in the center of it all.

“Yah hyung, why can't we give you kisses like that?” Wooyoung shouted while giggling and making exaggerated kissy faces. The rest of them burst into peals of laughter. Hongjoong still had his back to them taking in the rest of the pictures, lingering on the way you fit in with his chosen family, which had become yours. You knew there would be a little bit of teasing but you were not expecting some of the comments they were making.

Mingi smiled and stated, “That red looks good on you Captain.” as the others burst into various states of harder laughter. Mingi was on the floor at his own joke, his breath coming in spurts. Wooyoung was hiding his face while his squeaks betrayed him. Hongjoong turned around and glared at all of them which sent them into more laughter as they saw how red his face was with embarrassment. His blush was travelling and you could see his ears turn red. You started ushering the bunch of hooligans into the dining room with the promise of food. As they all collected themselves they followed you to the dining room. You were surprised they did not even notice the state of the table before now. They produced more shouts which used to startle you but dealing with them for so long it almost didn't phase you anymore. They made sure to give you hugs and express their thanks. They all took their unassigned assigned seats leaving you and Hongjoong’s open in the middle. Praise was thrown your way as they took in the table covered in food.

“Excuse me just a second, go ahead and start eating, I'll be right back. I'm going to go check on Joongie.” They nodded while starting to pile their plates high. You meandered back to Hongjoong who had turned around to look at the various pictures again. You slid your arms around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder. You could feel him stiffen and then relax when he realized it was you. He turned around in your embrace, and you could see the fresh tears lining his eyes. You pouted and asked.

“What’s wrong nae sarang? Do you not like it? I can take it down if it causes too much trouble.” you rambled.

He silenced you with a kiss. “I absolutely love it.” He said, “It means the world to me that you have taken so much time to show you love the people I love. I cannot describe how happy I am with this; so no you can’t and shouldn’t take it down.” He stepped away from your hug while holding up a finger for you to wait here. You looked back to the dining room where multiple conversations were flowing and some exclamations were heard about how amazing the food was. You smiled while thanking whatever God or Goddess gave these eight men to you. Since they had come into your life it had been utter chaos, but not the bad kind. You loved being a part of their family, even if you and Seonghwa had to team up on them to make them get their shit together.

You turned back and watched as he approached you and smiled at him. You didn't seem to notice the shaking of his hands or the wobble to his stride. “I was going to do this at another time, but seeing this made me realize I cannot wait anymore.” He started as he approached he paused a couple of feet away and knelt onto one knee. Producing a box out of his back pocket, he opened it and inside was one of the most stunning rings you had ever seen. It was a round cut diamond ring with four smaller diamonds on either side. You gasped and brought your hand to your mouth feeling the tears well up in your eyes. He continued, “Y/n I love you so much, you are the entire reason I can manage to make it through the day. You have stuck by my side at the most difficult times especially during comeback season. You take care of my brothers like they are your own, you have the kindest heart of anyone I know. You have been there for me for 5 years, and I cannot stress this enough it has been the best five years of my life. Will you do me the honors of becoming my partner for the rest of our lives?”

You couldn't believe it. You nodded, kneeling down to his height and threw your arms around him releasing a sob. You startled when the boys started cheering from the dining room which had the perfect view through the bannister. You nuzzled your face further into his neck crying and giggling softly. After a few seconds he gently pushed your shoulders away and grabbed your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger giving you a sweet lingering kiss. Once you pulled away you both looked over at the seven awestruck men who were still cheering. You noticed your best friend, Seonghwa, as he held his phone up to his face with the biggest smile and a thumbs up to you both.

Hongjoong leaned in and whispered as he noticed you smiling at Seonghwa. “He is the only one who knew, lord knows I couldn't trust the other blabbermouths with the information.” You threw your head back and let out a loud laugh and got up helping him in the process. Once you got up and Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your waist they all came running at you to squish the both of you in a group hug. They all chattered in excitement and you looked over to Hongjoong smiling. As they backed up they all motioned for you to show the ring. You took a step back and threw out your hand in front of you in one of the most dramatic gestures you could come up with. Hongjoong smiled and shook his head at your antics. They all laughed and got up close, some taking your hand to turn it to further inspect the ring. It was Jongho, ever the master of details, that picked up on the meaning of your ring.

“There are nine diamonds, " he said, inspecting the ring closely. Your eyes opened wider, catching the double meaning of the ring. You hadn't gotten the chance to think about the amount of diamonds and put two and two together. You looked at Joong, your eyes filling with another round of tears.

“It gets better,” Hwa said, smiling sweetly. You looked at him cocking your head to the side. Then you looked at your fiance for an answer. He gently took your hand and took off the ring, your finger already feeling empty of the weight. He brought it up to your face and showed you the inside of the ring. It had an engraving, 9 makes 1 team, in Hongjoong’s handwriting. You covered your mouth as tears spilled down your face while the others crowded you to see what was happening. All of them smiled wide and clapped Hongjoong on the shoulder for the cleverness of the engraving.

“I have to give credit to Hwa for the idea, he was the one who suggested it. I knew what I wanted it to look like but he made it even more personal.” You smiled at Joong and gently took the ring out of his hand and put it back on. You turned to Seonghwa and threw your arms around him. He had always been the person who knew you best aside from Hongjoong. He knew how much their crazy group meant to you, and he knew that Hongjoong was also a sap, whether or not he let the others know about it. All of the younger members gave Joong hugs and congratulations, he begrudgingly allowed the affection from them. Once you let go of Hwa you turned back to look at your fiance. He was smiling in the middle of all of his brothers. You walked back to him and his arm immediately went around your waist giving you three squeezes for I love you. You smiled at him. This man was the love of your life. Who knew it would take hanging a few photos of you, him, and his brothers to get him to propose to you. You kissed his cheek and laughed when you noticed the small stain of pink that you applied to your lips on his cheek.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Seonghwa Yuhno Yeosang San Mingi Wooyoung Jongho

#moonie’s fics #ateez #ateez fic #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong x reader

46 notes · View notes

thinkingaboutbetterdays · 4 months ago

Text

tick boy. ( freddie benson x reader )

gif belongs to me

Sam was well known for her temper, and after years of trying to break through to her, you were pleasantly surprised when she decided to turn over a new leaf one day. You had no idea why, nor did you push for answers, because it had been proven never to work, and you were too thrilled at the prospect of her getting into fewer fights.

You were a year older than Sam and Melanie and due to an absent mother, you adapted at a young age to look after the twins who couldn't be more different. You dropped out of high school and worked two jobs to pay off the credit cards Pam had taken out and to take care of your younger sisters. Despite your efforts to keep her on the straight and narrow, Sam frequently got into fights, and when you tried to break through with her, she only became resentful and you took the brunt of her anger.

You knew Sam viewed Spencer and Carly's apartment as a sanctuary, and rarely let the worlds cross, granting her that space she craved. When you took an extra shift at one of your jobs, you agreed to let Melanie go to a sleepover and stopped by Spencer's apartment to speak to Sam who hadn't answered your texts or when you tried to call.

You knocked on the door, sending Spencer a smile when he opened the door.

"Oh, look, it's the one person who actually knocks instead of just walking in." He looked at Freddie and Sam who were sitting at the dining table with Carly. "Unlike some people."

You thanked him when he gestured for you to enter and you sighed when Sam stood up from the table.

"What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my texts, or when I called you. So you left me no alternative."

"Did you ever think that I didn't care?"

You took a deep breath, licking your lips as you reached into your bag and took cash out of your purse, holding it out to the blonde. "For dinner. Try to order something filling like pizza." You tucked your purse back into your bag. "And Melanie's at a sleepover."

"Didn't I just say I didn't care?"

Used to her jabs, you didn't react, only raising an eyebrow. "Got your keys?"

Sam took her keys out of her pocket, dangling them in front of you. "Happy now?"

You nodded, looking at Carly and Freddie, "Bye, guys." You sent the two a smile which they returned, and you called goodbye to Spencer as you left the apartment.

"I don't understand why you're so mean to her all the time," Freddie spoke up as Sam pushed the money into her pocket and re-joined the table.

"She acts like she's my mom. I don't need someone watching over me."

"Yeah, 'cause you do fine on your own." He scoffed, shaking his head when Sam glared at him as he left the table. "I'm going to start setting up."

Despite her attempts to keep her anger in check, you always received the brunt of it even when you were trying to be supportive. Sam didn't want to be babied, so you gave her as much space as you could, but when you tried to treat her as if she was responsible she came close to biting your head off. There was so many things you kept your sisters sheltered from, wanting them to be normal teenagers without the worries you had, but the weight of it all was starting to become too much.

A week later, Sam returned back to her old ways, and you stopped by the apartment after the trio had returned home from school and were upstairs getting ready to begin their show. After Spencer let you in, you went upstairs to find Freddie at his computer, while Sam and Carly took a drink of water, getting ready to begin.

You knocked on the door and Freddie opened it, sending you a smile. "You don't have to knock." He stepped aside to let you in and you thanked him, looking at Sam when she approached.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you these." You took out keys from your jacket pocket. "The door was repaired. New locks."

"Great. Now go." Sam took the keys and you shook your head when she turned away.

"I'm working late tonight." You took out some cash from the pocket of your jeans, holding it out to her. She took it and walked away.

"Thank you. Now bye!"

You sighed, sending Carly and Freddie a small smile, "Good luck tonight."

As you turned to leave, Freddie saw the weight on your shoulders, only made worse by Sam's attitude. A frown formed on his lips when the door closed and pursed his lips when Sam clicked her fingers, yelling to get his attention.

He looked at the blonde, shaking his head as he walked to his computer.

"What's the matter with you?"

Freddie didn't speak as he ran a few checks to make sure everything was ready and Sam waved a hand in front of his face to gain his attention.

"I don't understand why you're always so mean to her."

Sam rolled her eyes, "Urgh, this again."

"You were pretty cold." Carly chimed in. "All she is trying to do is look out for you."

"Well, I don't need her to," Sam replied. "Now are we gonna do the show or not?"

Several hours later you returned to the apartment, covered in chilli, and wishing you could lie down and wake up believing the day had been a bad dream. Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. After knocking your bag into the fryer, your phone was broken and the keys didn't work on the lock.

You walked upstairs where the trio was relaxing after filming their show. Freddie looked up when you opened the door without knocking and heard Sam grumbling under her breath. His eyebrows raised when he saw the chilli sauce on your hat and shirt.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just give me your keys."

Sam raised an eyebrow at your tone, "What? No please?"

"Sam..." Carly quietly scolded.

You put a hand on your hip, sighing as you looked at Sam. "I've had a really crappy day, and I just need your keys to get into the house then I'll be out of your hair."

"What happened to your keys?" She took her keys out of her pocket and held them out to you.

"I dropped them in the fryer at work along with everything else that I own." You sighed, not wanting to take out your rough day on her, "I'll see you at home."

When you walked out, Sam followed and Freddie quickly chased after her, sharing a glance with Carly as they followed you both to the living room.

"Does this mean you can't check in on me every ten minutes?"

You paused with your hand on the door handle and heard Carly mutter, "Oh, no."

You turned to your sister who was grinning and shook your head. "You want me to leave you alone?"

"Yes! I'm not twelve years old."

Sam almost missed catching the keys you tossed her way.

"Fine." You walked out of the apartment, closing the door a little harsher than normal. Sam's eyebrows rose at your outburst, while small it was bigger than anything you had ever shown before.

"Why do you always push her away?" Freddie walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm going after her."

You were leaving the building when he caught up to you and when you heard him call your name, you ducked your head to wipe a tear from your cheek before turning to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course." You sent him a smile that was not as believable as you hoped it would be. "Great show tonight."

"You watch it?" He asked with a smile.

"I can't always watch it live, but I've seen every episode." You sent him a genuine smile, "You're great at what you do." You took out your cell phone and held it up, "Since you're great at tech stuff, what do you recommend?"

"Whoa." He took your phone, examining it. "What happened to it?"

"I knocked it into the fryer. I had it propped up on my bag so I could watch the show, and when I turned, I hit the bag with the handle of the mop and, well," You took your phone when he held it out to you, "You get the picture."

"I'm sorry." He frowned.

"Why?" You tilted your head, "You weren't twirling like an idiot, were you?"

Freddie smiled softly, shaking his head. "No, but," He sighed heavily, "you had to grow up fast. And I know how hard you work to keep the three of you together."

You looked away, sitting on the wall and he took a seat beside you.

"She does care, you know. Even if she behaves differently - why do you have beans in your hair?" His chuckle elicited a smile from you.

"The guy I was working with tried to carry a pot and tripped over his shoelaces and next thing I knew I was drowning in chilli. Where is it?" You reached behind your ponytail trying to find it.

"Here I'll get it."

You turned your head, and Freddie removed the bean from your hair carefully and you turned around when he declared that he had found it.

"Thank you." You sent him a small smile. "For the bean, and trying to make me feel better."

"Did it work?"

"A little." You rose from the wall and met his gaze when he stood up. "Thanks, Freddie."

"You know, we're filming some scenes for the next episode tomorrow. You can stop by and watch if you want?" He put his hands in his pockets to hide that he was crossing his fingers, wishing you would agree.

"I don't know..."

"The world won't crumble if you let go once in a while."

"Sam doesn't like me in her space. Or anywhere." Seeing his features falter, you sent him a small smile, saying, "I'll think about it. Night."

"Goodnight." He sent you a smile and a wave which you returned when you glanced back over your shoulder as you walked away.

When you walked around the building out of view, Freddie grinned, walking into the building. "She'll think about it. Yes!"

When Sam returned home an hour later, you washed the sauce out of your hair and scrubbed your uniform while Melanie did her homework in her bedroom. You lifted your head when the door opened and Sam entered.

"Hey," You greeted softly.

"Hey," She replied.

You placed your shirt into the sink filled with warm water, "I'm sorry about earlier. I had a bad day and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm sorry."

Sam put her hands in her pockets as she approached the kitchen. "Actually I want to apologise too. I have been giving you a hard time - more than usual - since you got this new job and I'm sorry. I know you're just trying to look out for me like you always do."

"What?" You asked, sensing her hesitation and leaned against the sink, crossing your arms.

"It feels like you don't trust me not to make a mess of things. Like I'm a screw-up, or you want me to be more like Melanie." She gestured to the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

You lowered your arms, frowning as you approached her. "What I want is for you to go to school and enjoy being a teenager. I don't think you are a screw-up. Look at you, you've got a web show with your friends that's really successful and, okay, you still get into trouble at school, but your grades are better. And that's all I want. For you to have options."

"Does it suck?" She asked. "Getting As and working in a place that sells chilli in little hats?"

You nodded slowly, "A little." You sighed, "But I get to be with you guys." You sent her a small smile, "And I'm really proud of you."

Sam looked away, trying to recall the conversations she had with Carly and Spencer. Carly encouraged her to try harder to get along with you, while Spencer helped her see things from your point of view because he understood it the most. He knew how hard you were working and keeping a clean house while raising twin teenagers seemed impossible, but he admired how you did it all without complaint but silently harboured resentment for your absent mother.

"Do we have any ice cream?" She asked.

You nodded, "Got some yesterday." You turned to continue scrubbing your shirt while she got the ice cream out of the freezer.

"Want to watch a movie?"

You looked at her for a moment, wondering where her new attitude had come from. Deciding to enjoy it while it lasted, you agreed and she handed you a spoon before heading to the sofa. You shared the ice cream as you watched a movie and for the first time when you showed interest in her life, she didn't shut you down. You felt the strain of the week fade away as you laughed together.

The next day you were more energetic as you walked into the studio quietly, sending Freddie a small smile when he looked at you while keeping the camera focused on Sam and Carly. You walked closer when they stopped filming and Sam grinned eagerly as she approached you.

"Did you bring it? Did you?"

You revealed the sandwich in your bag and the blonde took it, moving away to eat it. "Four ham sandwich." She cooed. "I've missed you."

"Do you need to be alone?" Carly asked.

"Yes."

The brunette shook her head, smiling as she looked at you. "You don't happen to have more of those, do you?"

You took out two more and she grinned as she took one, thanking you before sitting next to Sam. You smiled at Freddie when he thanked you, accepting the sandwich.

"You didn't have to."

"I know. But I wanted to thank you." You glanced at Carly who was engrossed in conversation with Sam, before meeting his gaze again. "I had an interesting conversation with Sam last night and I had a feeling it had something to do with the people in this apartment."

"You worked everything out?" Freddie walked away to place his camera down and you followed, nodding.

"I realized that I've never actually told her I was proud of her before." You sighed, "I was too busy running around trying to keep everything together and it never occurred to me that she didn't know." Shaking your head, you took a step back, "Anyway, you probably don't want to know all the details. I just wanted to thank you for yesterday."

"You're always looking after everyone else, I wanted to remind you that you need to look after yourself too." You smiled softly when he cleared his throat, "D-Do you want to stay and watch for a while?"

"I have work later, but I can stay for a while."

"Cool. You'll get to see me do my thing."

"You don't have a thing!" Sam called out.

Freddie glared at the grinning blonde and you suppressed a smile. You approach the bean bags and when you were about to sit on the floor so he could take the bean bag, Freddie told you to sit on the bean bag.

You shook your head, telling him to sit down and go back and forth until your sister yelled, "Will someone sit down?"

"We'll both sit." You shared the bean bag with Freddie and despite your efforts, the bean bag made you both lean into each other. You were soon distracted by your sister proclaiming her love for the sandwich you made and shook your head, missing the way Freddie glanced at you. But Carly didn't.

After luring him downstairs under the pretense of getting drinks for everyone, the brunette confronted him about his crush on you. While Melanie was known for being girly, and Sam was known for being the exact opposite, you were known for being responsible due to the years spent looking after them in your mother's absence. And for the past few months, Freddie had become more and more intrigued by you.

"Sam will freak out when she finds out!" Carly whispered.

"You can't tell her!" Freddie argued. "She'd kill me! For real this time!"

You looked at the two when they returned, seeing the strained smile on Carly's lips and the way they kept glancing at each other. Shrugging off their weird behavior, you thanked Freddie with a smile when he handed you a drink.

When the trio returned to filming for their show you occupied a barstool next to Freddie's computer and smiled when Carly and Sam put on their hats, getting into character. Your gaze drifted to Freddie as he fired up the camera, pressing his lips together as he pushed a button on both sides of the contraption he had built around it. Carly tried not to roll her eyes at the extra flair he put into it but quickly fell into her role for the sketch. Your eyes drifted to Freddie more than once as the two teenagers tried multiple times to make it seem more natural.

There was something different about him when he was working behind the scenes and a smile tugged at your lips, paying more attention to him than the sketch being acted out.

After thirty minutes Freddie switched off the camera and you clapped your hands, whistling as the girls removed their hats.

"If you're going to sit there could you act less like a soccer mom?"

You jokingly rolled your eyes at your sister as you stood up, "Just for that, I'm not going to tell you how great it was."

"Really? You think so?" Carly asked.

You nodded, "Definitely. I loved the little jig at the end."

"It's given me a craving for barbeque." Sam said.

"Really? I was getting salsa."

"How could you possibly crave salsa?"

Freddie glanced between you and Sam as you bickered back and forth and a smile tugged at his lips when she flicked your forehead and you retaliated.

"You know I miss the days when we didn't talk."

"You love me." You grinned, picking up the stool and pressing the button for the elevator with your elbow.

"It's hard not to." Freddie halted like a deer in headlights when all eyes turned to him, not realizing he said it out loud. "Because you're so much nicer than she is." He gestured to Sam who glared at him and he took the barstool from you, using it to keep distance between them.

You caught your sister before she could snatch the barstool and hurt Freddie, nodding for Carly and Freddie to take the elevator down. "We'll take the stairs."

After that day, you stopped by the apartment every week to watch them film the web show or give keys to Sam until you got a replacement set, and give her money for dinner when you wouldn't be home. When you missed a recording session due to work, Freddie knew he wouldn't survive until next week and suggested going for lunch at the sandwich shop where you worked during the hours they spent at high school.

"Finally a good idea comes from you. Free food!" Sam punched his shoulder and Freddie rolled it, wincing from the force.

Carly wanted to point out that he wanted to go there just to see you but kept it to herself knowing Sam wouldn't react well to finding out her friend was in love with her older sister.

Sam texted their orders and when they arrived you placed their drinks on the table before returning to the kitchen to get their food. You were arranging the tray when a waiter rushed into the kitchen and informed you that teenagers were arguing outside. You knew Sam was involved and walked out of the kitchen.

You recognized the older girl glaring down at Sam. She was two years older than you and you recognized her from high school. You stormed over when she knocked over their table and their drinks. Sam shot to her feet, demanding that she pick them up.

You stood next to your sister, crossing your arms. "You heard her. Pick them up."

"Y/N L/N?" She cackled. "What are you gonna do? Dance with little pompoms?"

You hit her hand away when she tried to grab your shirt, and pulled Sam aside when she swung her arm, causing her to miss. You felt someone grab your arms and glared as another held back Sam as the older girl stole someone's smoothie and approached you, ripping off the lid.

You kicked it out of her hand before she could pour it over you and elbowed the member of her crew holding you in the ribs, breaking free from their hold. You turned to your sister who was trying to stomp on the girl's foot but she didn't let her go and you grabbed her hair, and the back of her shirt, pulling her away from Sam.

"Leave her alone!" You pushed her towards the door and she stumbled, hitting the window and falling to the floor. You ducked when Sam shouted, and the blonde grabbed a tray, using it to knock another girl from the bully's crew to the floor.

You were lifted off the ground and squirmed to break free, groaning when the leader of the crew squeezed tightly, hurting your arms and ribs.

"Hey!" Sam jumped on her back and you broke free, helping Sam push her towards the door. She slid on the smoothie and fell on a member of her crew who was trying to stand.

"This isn't over Puckett!" She barked, before leaving the sandwich shop.

"You know, it's moments like this when I'm proud to say we're related." Sam put her arm around your shoulders as you watched the retreating bullies.

You looked at the smirking blonde, "It did feel good."

"Are you okay?" Freddie asked as he walked over with Carly.

Before you could answer, your boss called out your name and you sighed, leaving to speak with him in his office. When you walked out. you went to the kitchen to retrieve the sandwiches you had made for them and hid them under your jacket as you left the sandwich shop.

"There will be other jobs." You glanced at the three who were having different reactions. Freddie was concerned and Carly looked guilty that intervening had cost you your job while Sam looked thrilled.

"Hey, they had it comin'." She rubbed her hands together, "You brought the food, right?"

You rolled your eyes, revealing the sandwiches hidden under your jacket. "What is this my first day?"

"I knew there was something buried in you that proved we're related." Sam took her sandwich and you handed Freddie and Carly theirs, falling into step with Freddie who was less eager to tear open the packaging.

"Don't worry," You sent him a smile, "I left cash in the kitchen." You looked at Sam when he turned his head, "Don't tell her."

Freddie chuckled softly, nodding. "Deal."

"Hey, we're going to Carly's, want to come?" Sam asked, looking over her shoulder.

"I'm good." You smiled softly. "I'm a little tired."

The blonde nodded, accepting your answer, and continued walking with Carly. Freddie turned to you when you carried your jacket draped over your crossed arms. "What are you going to do now?"

You shrugged, "Find another job. There's always something."

You sent the trio a small smile, "I'll see you guys later."

Freddie frowned when you walked away. Carly stood next to him, "Does she seem okay to you?"

"She's fine. She released her inner Puckett." Sam mumbled between bites of food.

Freddie took out his cellphone and while he typed away, Sam noticed that he hadn't eaten his sandwich. Feeling her gaze, he gave it to her before walking away.

"Where are you going?" Sam called, shrugging when he didn't reply before walking with Carly to her apartment building.

You were nearly home when Freddie jogged, catching up with you. The door was jammed, and you tried kicking it, turning when he cleared his throat. An amused smile was on his lips at some of the similarities between you and Sam.

"Need some help?"

You stepped aside, eyebrows furrowing, "What are you doing here?"

"I felt bad about your job, so I thought I could help you find another. I-If you want?"

You covered your mouth with your hands when he tried to use his shoulder to bash the door open and rushed to his side when he groaned. You stifled a giggle when he clutched his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

"What is that door made out of?"

"You're not supposed to do it like that." You took his hand, "Come on." You led him around the house and explained that Sam never closes the window when you ask and Freddie gave you a boost, watching as you climbed in, unlocking the back door. "Ta da!"

He chuckled as he entered the kitchen, closing the door.

"Here, this should help." You walked to the freezer, took out an ice pack, and held it against his shoulder.

"T-Thanks."

You sent him a smile as he held the ice pack, turning to take drinks out of the fridge, walking to the living room. "You really don't need to stay and help. I'm sure there's much more exciting things to do."

"Nope."

You looked at him, sitting on the sofa, placing the bottles on the coffee table. You shook your head when he smiled, unable to suppress a smile as he sat next to you.

"Okay, so, first, we need to find something that matches your skills." He said, taking out a notebook a pen from his backpack, opening to an empty page.

You thought for a moment, "I once hung someone by their shirt at the market when they tried to steal my ham."

Freddie raised an eyebrow, and you glanced at him as you took a sip from your soda, seeing the slight tilt of his head. "What?"

"I sometimes forget that you're related to Sam."

"In my defense, I'd already lost vegetables to a grandma, so I was pretty steamed."

Freddie shook his head, "Okay, so strong. That's an advantage. What else? You're kind, patient, and you're smart. Hard working. Good at solving problems."

You were surprised by how many good qualities he could list so easily and quickly. Freddie noticed the way you picked the label on the soda and asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just...do you really think that?"

"Of course. I mean, taking into consideration everything you have accomplished over the years, growing up faster than you should have, you are all those things."

You smiled softly, thanking him. You looked at the growing list he was writing down.

"Is flexible a strength?"

"Uh,"

"I was a cheerleader in high school for a year. And I did gymnastics."

Freddie scrambled to say something when his mind could do nothing, but provide images of you practicing in a cheer uniform. "Flexible is good." He cleared his throat, taking a long sip of his soda, the pain in his shoulder long forgotten.

"Hey, thanks for doing this. I want you to know that I do appreciate it."

Freddie sent you a smile, "Anytime. You are always helping everyone else. I want to do something that helps you."

You mirrored his smile, "Did Sam ever tell you about the butter sock?"

He nodded slowly, "She said you came up with the idea."

"Pam was gone for a week. Sam and Melanie were five at the time. We were behind on rent. So the landlord came around. He tried to put his hand through the letterbox to reach a latch on the door. I took one of the socks out of the dryer, and when I was looking for something to put in it, I saw Sam licking the butter." Freddie shook his head, and you smiled at the memory. "I put the stick of butter in the sock and used it to hit the landlords hand when it got stuck in the letter box. He broke free and said he'd be back the next day. By that time, we were already gone. And the butter sock was born."

A frown formed on his lips when he realized how young you were and already looking after your siblings. "Were you scared?"

"If I was, I don't remember. I remember the way they hugged me afterward. I stayed with them all night when they were asleep to make sure the landlord didn't return." You looked away, shrugging softly, "I did what I had to do to protect them."

His cell phone rang and he groaned when he saw it was his mother. Freddie glanced around, worried she was watching as he reluctantly answered, grimacing when she shrieked in his ear.

"I expected you home over an hour ago! Where are you, Freddie?"

"Uh," He knew he couldn't tell her the truth. His mother didn't like the Puckett family as a whole thanks to Sam. "Out."

Deciding to give him privacy, you took the ice pack to the kitchen, returning it to the freezer. When you entered the living room, Freddie was arguing with his mother, gesturing with his hand. You bit the inside of your cheek when your eyes met, and he sighed as he ended the call.

"I better go before she sends the military to find me." He said, sliding his notebook and pen into his backpack, zipping it as he approached you.

"I get it." You smiled softly, "Thank you for helping me today." You walked to the front door and opened it.

"Sure, now it opens." He grumbled.

You shook your head, giggling, "Remember, don't talk to strangers, and if you get lost, use the maps on your phone."

Freddie laughed sarcastically, and you smiled as you leaned against the doorway. You bit your tongue to suppress the smile on your lips as you said goodbye and watched him walk away before closing the door.

A few hours later, while walking to clear your head, you saw Spencer in the street, and sensing you could use a break, he invited you to his apartment. As he let you inside, Spencer invited you to stay for dinner. You thanked him and offered to help, catching up with the eldest Shay. You found common ground with him easily as he had taken care of his sister for many years due to their mother leaving and their father's job that kept him away from home.

You looked over your shoulder when the trio came downstairs for a drink after their web show ended and greeted them with a smile. When Sam asked why you didn't go upstairs, you explained that you stopped by after spending an hour looking for a shirt Melanie wanted you to buy for her and met Spencer who invited you to dinner.

"Wait, you're having dinner here?" Freddie looked at Spencer when you nodded, "Can I have dinner here?"

"If your mom says it's okay, I don't see why not -" Freddie was running across the room by the word 'if' and out the door before he finished.

You looked at Sam when she spoke, "What are you doing to that boy?" You tilted your head in confusion, shaking it as you continued setting the table for dinner.

Freddie returned with a grin, announcing that he could stay for dinner as Spencer plated the spaghetti, and you turned to place the plates on the table.

"Uh-Uh, I am not sitting next to you. You will steal my food." You pulled Freddie into the chair beside you before Sam could sit down.

"You have more than me."

"No, I don't."

Freddie looked between you both as you bickered back and forth, mimicking each other. Sam took your plate, and you rolled your eyes as you took her plate that she argued had less spaghetti.

"Happy now?"

"Very."

"We're all relieved." You muttered under your breath, and Freddie coughed, covering his mouth with his arm as he tried not to laugh.

Sam glared at him. "What?"

"Nothing." He replied quickly.

You glanced at Freddie, a smile on your lips, and he mirrored it as he gathered spaghetti on his fork.

After dinner, you insisted on washing up, which led to Sam complaining that you were making her look bad as she never offered to help.

"I would help, but I'm so full." She slouched on the sofa, and you shook your head.

You gathered the plates, and Freddie stepped over to help. You cleaned the dishes while he dried, and you had a feeling he only did it to be next to you, not that you minded.

"Did you see the show today?" He spoke up.

"No, I was looking for a shirt for Melanie. Apparently, not having it would end the world as we know it." You smiled softly, "I spent an hour getting tips from a stylist about how to change my wardrobe. She even told me to cut my hair. Can you believe it?"

"Clearly, she can't be trusted because your hair is, well, it's..." Freddie trailed off when you turned your head to meet his gaze. "I like your hair."

"Thank you."

You wiped down the table as he put the plates away, and you smiled when he said you made a good team. "I can show you the episode if you want?"

You nodded, following him to the computer. He put on the show recorded earlier. Halfway through, he turned the camera after Sam interacted with him, and seeing his smile made you smile.

"The camera loves you." You bumped your shoulder with his and Freddie chuckled.

As the episode ended, the door opened and Mrs Benson entered. "Freddie!"

"Hello, Mrs Benson." You greeted politely.

"Y/N. You're here a lot lately." She commented before looking at her son. "It's time for your tick bath."

You raised an eyebrow, looking at Freddie when he stammered. "I-I don't need a tick bath." He met your gaze, "I don't."

"Come on, let's go." Mrs Benson walked away, pulling him out of the apartment.

For a few moments, the room was silent until you spoke, "She really is like that. I thought my memory was exaggerated."

"I know." Sam snorted, a grin on her lips, "She makes me glad that I've got you."

From Sam, it was the grandest declaration of love.

You smiled as you sipped your water. You moved to sit on the sofa as you caught up on the movie they were watching and halfway through, Freddie returned.

You suppressed a smile at his grouchy expression when Sam started teasing him. "I don't have ticks!"

You nudged your sister's shoulder gently as you stood up to put your glass in the sink. "I think he's suffered enough."

"Finally some compassion." Freddie typed on his phone, approaching the kitchen, standing next to you. "I think I found the perfect job for you." He glanced at you when you leaned in to look at his screen and realized it was similar to a dream he had. Except you were kissing. And in his bedroom. "It pays well. You won't need two jobs anymore."

"I don't know...I mean I didn't graduate."

"Doesn't matter. Training is provided. It's a great opportunity."

You bit your lip thoughtfully, not noticing the way it immediately captured his attention. "Okay.'

Freddie blinked out of his daze, "Good. Because I already sent in an application."

"You did what? When?"

"Yesterday." He smiled sheepishly. "But look, they want to interview you next week."

Your eyebrows raised when he showed you the confirmation message he received, and you threw your arms around his neck. Freddie placed his hands on your back, smiling when you thanked him, squeezing him tighter.

"You're welcome."

You pulled away, "I'll have to go shopping. Oh, what do I wear?" You mumbled as you walked to pick up your bag and jacket. You thanked Spencer for inviting you to dinner, saying goodnight before you left.

Sam stood up as Freddie tapped his phone against his hand, a smile on his lips that faltered when she approached him. "That was, uh, pretty nice of you. To help her out like that."

Freddie tried not to shrink back and kept his back straight. "She could use a little help."

Sam nodded in agreement. Freddie flinched when she patted his shoulder and the blonde left to catch up to you.

Later that night, she walked out of her bedroom, approaching your room when she saw the light was on, finding you were dumping clothes on the ground in pursuit of an outfit for your job interview.

"What are you doing?"

You turned, placing a hand on your chest when she spoke. You sighed as you gestured to the closet. "I have five outfits, and none of them are nice enough."

Sam looked around as she walked into the room. "There has to be something here."

You shook your head, "Maybe I should go back to the sandwich shop and ask for my job back."

"Those guys are jerks. Freddie said this job earned more than both of these jobs. Listen to the nerd."

You glanced at her with a smile, "Did you just compliment him?"

"Did I fall off a bull? Of course not."

Your smile grew when she approached the closet. Sam began to look through the clothes before deciding the answer was obvious. Melanie kept up to date with the latest fashion, and Sam recalled what Freddie told her earlier. It was time they stepped in to help more.

The twins returned, begrudgingly calling a truce for the night, and Melanie stepped forward with clothes she believed would work for your job interview.

You looked at the twins who had barely bickered all night and smiled softly, thankful that they were helping.

By the time the interview date rolled around, the group was more nervous than you were, and when you entered the Shays apartment, agreeing to meet Sam there afterward, you kept your smile small as you greeted them.

"What happened? Did you get it? Did you?" Sam was like a hurricane as she rushed over to you, and you glanced around before smiling brightly.

"I got it!"

You jumped up and down, smiling when she hugged you. When she stepped away, you looked at the group with a smile, "Dinner is on me tonight!"

You giggled when Spencer stepped forward to congratulate you, hugging you as he said, "I knew there was a reason you were my favourite."

Carly joined the hug, then Freddie and Sam. As you left the apartment, Sam looked at Freddie when he followed without going across the hall to speak to his mom. "Don't you need permission first?"

"Once we get there, I'll send her a text saying we're somewhere else."

"Livin' on the wild side." Carly teased.

You met Melanie at the restaurant and took a seat at the table, smiling softly as she congratulated you.

"Thanks. But I owe it all to Freddie, he got me the interview."

"All I did was tell them how great you are." He replied.

You sent him a smile across the table and picked up the menu. You bit the inside of your cheek, glancing at him as he looked at his menu. Sam looked between you both when you lowered your head, missing the way Freddie sneaked glances at you.

Later that night, you were approaching the point where you would go your separate ways with Spencer, Carly, and Freddie. Sam noticed the numerous glances you and Freddie stole at each other and brought Melanie into her conversation with Carly. You scooped your ice cream, looking at Freddie when he hung back slightly to walk beside you as Sam planned.

"They seem to be getting along," Freddie commented, nodding at the twins.

"For now, at least." You smiled, "Thank you again for getting me that interview. What did you tell them anyway?"

"I told them the truth." He shrugged, "I said you were hardworking, and you could do anything you set your mind to. I told them how kind, compassionate, and caring you are."

You smiled softly, placing a hand on his arm as you stopped walking. Freddie turned, and you kissed his cheek. "Thank you. It's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Anytime."

"Ew! Don't kiss him, he has ticks!"

Freddie glared at Sam. "No, I don't!"

The two quickly fell into an argument, and you walked alongside him as they went back and forth. He glanced down when you looped your arm with his, continuing to eat your ice cream.

"Then why do you need baths, tick boy?"

"Because my mother is crazy!"

You shook your head, giggles leaving your lips. A short walk later, while the Shays went one way, the Puckett twins went another, you turned to Freddie and bit the inside of your cheek.

"Goodnight, tick boy." You kissed him briefly, lingering over for a few seconds before stepped back.

You sent him a smile before walking to catch up with your sisters. Freddie grinned as he watched you walk away. Carly noticed he was frozen in place, a broad grin on his lips, and walked over to pull him away.

"Come on!"

"How is she related to Sam?"

Spencer shook his head at the dazed smile he wore. "How many times has your mother called?"

Freddie quickly took out his phone and groaned when he saw the texts and calls. "Oh, man!"

"Welcome back, tick boy." Spencer patted his shoulder with a smirk as they approached their apartment building but the siblings noticed that the smile on Freddie's lips hadn't faltered since your kiss.

#freddie benson #freddie benson x reader #icarly

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thakefurniture · 25 days ago

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Georgian mahogany oval drop leaf dining table. Solid leaves, raised on turned legs terminating in pad feet.

#Georgian Drop Leaf Dining Table #cottage diner #folding antique table #antique uk #Georgian furniture #Victorian furniture #regency furniture #Thakeham Furniture #Horsham #UK #Recent Acquisitions

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antiquetables · 1 year ago

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Antique tables in sizes 2m to 2.5m. Tables provide include antique console tables, antique rustic tables, antique drop leaf tables, small farmhouse tables, oak farmhouse tables, antique refectory tables, old country tables and a fruitwood dining table.

#antique table in size 2m to 2.5m #antique console tables #antique rustic tables #antique drop leaf tables #small farmhouse tables #oak farmhouse tables #antique refectory tables #old country tables #fruitwood dining table #antique tables supplier #Billingshurst #West Sussex #UK

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 26 days ago

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joel miller and red number 5? please 💞

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (Reader is engaged to Tommy Miller though oohhhh spicy)

Prompt: Red #5: “this thing was a masterpiece, till you tore it all up”

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: smoking (don't do it kids), talks of depression and disordered eating, miscommunication but not in the way you think tehe, poorly edited mistakes are mine and mine alone but be nice pls <3

A/N: This is heavily inspired by Sorrow and Bliss by Meg Mason. Definitely a great read, and one of my top books for this year so far! Also I put some Lewis Carroll in there because why not. ATWTMVFTVTV was literally the song that got me into TS and gets me through my stints on the stairmaster lol

Send me a request!

Even looking up at Tommy’s apartment complex would start the telltale squeezing inside your chest. You’d wrongly hoped that with time it would fade away and you’d maybe be able to call his glass cage a house, maybe, in a far off future, a home.

The future, however, had come tumbling down in front of you this evening. What was supposed to be a small dinner at yours, had snowballed into the feast that lay still on the dining table. Tess, Joel, Sarah, Elie, some mutual friends and your sister. You don’t know how he’d convinced you into this.

The fly on the wall feeling that had been such a constant in your college days, the lost leaf running around on the tails of the wind, had faded considerably in the decade after your graduation. Of course, it flared up now and again, red and angry, but it was easy to distract yourself from it by running on the treadmill till the machine stopped and going home to sleep it off.

Tonight, however, up in the mausoleum, it had hit you at a force you can’t remember ever feeling anymore. Over coffee and cheesecake, Tommy had dropped down and proposed, and the only thought running through your head was not like this. In front of everyone and the world twinkling below you. You’d taken in a shaky breath, just realizing then you’d forgotten to breathe in for a while, the stinging pain in your lungs filled with relief.

It was as though you were seeing someone else, some person standing there and saying yes, lips and fingers trembling, the little diamond-encrusted collar slipping onto your left hand. The weight was foreign, heavier than you’d thought it would be. As a young girl you’d often play at being married, putting on plastic rings and parading about your room, waiting for the sun to catch the invisible jewel and flash in your eye.

The room had erupted into chatter, with the pop of a champagne bottle seemingly materialized out of thin air. The little food you’d had that evening hit you suddenly with the fizz of the drink and you felt the blood rush down from your head, heart pounding suddenly in your ears. It was a cold, comforting sensation, drawing you back into the room and to Sarah’s laughing face, her arms tight around you.

You blinked a couple times, Tommy’s arm resting around your shoulder, fingers rubbing a spot of skin over and over till the friction pilled.

Slipping away from the both of them, you grab your purse and head downstairs. Already, in the elevator, you could feel the crushing anchor slowly lifting off your chest as you grew closer and closer to the ground and fresh air.

You didn’t smoke often, but it was as good an excuse as any to give yourself a little break without having any questioning eyebrows raised in your wake. Sure, they called it a disgusting habit, and you weren’t much farther off from that opinion, but it was better than the alternative, the pitying eyes and overcompensating conversation that always followed, as if to mask that people had been talking about you in your absence, as if you couldn’t hear them through the thin bathroom walls.

The cool, autumn night air hits you with a gratifying chill. There’s a red scarf in your bag but you push past it to find the pack and your lighter. Soon, there’s going to be a welcome numbness through your fingers and on the top of your thighs.

The first few drags of the cigarette are smoky and incensed. You feel it swirling through all the bad inside you and imagine black fog blowing out of your mouth. Turning your hand over, you gaze at the ring again, thinking back to all the surprised gasps that went around the room when Tommy had bent down. The gem glitters in the low light of the street lamps. You’re sure it’s cost him much more than he could have reasonably afforded.

You push the ring around your finger so that only the silver band is left facing up. You wonder if he’d decided to propose in front of so many people because that’s what he wanted, or if he’d thought that that was what you wanted. A small frown forms on your forehead and you take in a long breath of smoke.

“I’d thought you’d decided to quit,” there’s no malice in your sister��s voice and you’re grateful for it. She comes up beside you and wraps you in a hug.

Things always seemed so simple for her. Her first first date had been her last. She got pregnant almost on will, and had beautiful, round babies one after another, each with the temperament of an angel. She’d quit drinking as soon as she found out she was carrying her first and never really picked it up again after that. As simple as that. All she had was to extend her hand out and the universe would drop everything she’d ever asked for in the middle of it.

Brushing your hair with her hand, “What happened, hm? Thought it was supposed to just be a casual thing with him.”

You shrug, pulling away and stifling out the end of your cigarette with your toe and light up another. “Dunno.”

There’s no need to look over at her to see the pitying look in her eyes. It’s one you’ve grown familiar with, from teachers and boyfriends and parents and strangers. It’s what looks back at you from the endless windowed walls of Tommy’s apartment during the many nights you awaken panting and exhausted beside his insolently sleeping form.

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.

‘Which road do I take?’ she asked.

‘Where do you want to go?’ was his response.

‘I don’t know,’ Alice answered.

‘Then,’ said the cat, ‘it doesn’t matter.’

‘--so long as I get SOMEWHERE,’ Alice added as an explanation.

‘Oh, you're sure to do that,’ said the Cat, ‘if you only walk long enough.’

She sighs, brings your thoughts back to the quiet October night, piles of leaves on each side of the road, some tumbling lazily across sidewalks. Letting out a soft laugh, she shivers as a thought raises in her mind, you see it crash over her face from the corner of your eye. “I think we should make public proposals illegal. Lord knows if I proposed like that I’d always be worrying whether or not the guy answered under duress.”

Despite the glum mood that had fallen on your shoulders, you can’t help but laugh. It felt wrong for your younger sister to be bringing you so much comfort, a place of solace whenever you needed it.

The silence is broken again by her voice, “Why did you say yes?”

It’s not confrontative, but it draws up your defenses nonetheless. Almost seven years of being alone and fending off head tilts and quasi-comforting arm rubs, and you’ve got time left, hun, don’t give up hope, it felt wrong to tell her why not? For convenience. To stop the worries once and for all.

You don’t even need to say it out loud to know how it will sound in the air. It wasn’t often that your broken mind could hold back things like that. What’s more, it wasn’t even the truth this time.

She sighs again, and you finally look over to the face that has grown so familiar to you over the years and note all the ways it has changed, fine wrinkles around your sister's eyes and mouth, tugging at your stomach, the way the white hairs braided through your mother’s hair did. You don’t know when this had happened, when you’d gone from girl to woman and where the rest of it had gone and why you were feeling more childlike than ever, and if this was normal for someone your age.

You hear your name fall from her lips in a motherly tone, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

In your second year of college you’d grown a strange fascination with teratomas during a reproductive biology class you were taking as an elective. Teratomas were tumours in the germline that could grow hair and teeth and sometimes brain matter or eyes, and at nights you were plagued with dreams of baby teratomas, one-by-one being drawn out of your womb.

The door swings open again and two sets of feet follow out.

“Congrats, hun,” Joel’s eyes are warm, eerily similar to the happy ones in Sarah’s beaming up at you again. There was a certain confidence in them that you didn’t feel inside yourself. It made you feel like a fraud and you smiled and quickly looked away from her, thanking Joel.

He talks a bit with your sister, asks after your brother-in-law and the kids. The chatter fades out again as you hear the same dance recital and sports league stories again.

“...guess you’ll be one of us now.” You focus back into Joel’s tired face, and he reaches forward and gives you an awkward hug. Not the side-armed things of the past, when he’d treated you as the girl his brother was seeing, still in murky waters on your relationship before Tommy had thrown both you and Joel in the deep end with no form of warning.

His eyes are different from Tommy’s and it makes you wonder, watching him walk away with Sarah at his side, which brother had gone to which parent. You wonder about Sarah, and the obvious gaping hole of grandparents in her life and how her father bent over backwards to fill them up, to give her everything he thought she deserved and needed.

“He loves me,” you say quietly.

Your sister snorts, eyes rolling, “Now that’s not fucking news, is it? It’s written all over his damn face.”

Frowning, you turn to her, “What?”

Her face mirrors yours, and she tilts her head to the side. You see a sudden flick of her eyes towards Joel’s receding form, shoulders coming up and disappearing through the darkness, Sarah’s hand in his.

You turn around again and look at the two figures properly, and hear her swear behind you. Your throat is overly dry and you swallow, “Tommy. That’s why I…”

“Fuck!” she hits her forehead. “I thought you knew! It was so obvious.”

Biting your lip your turn from all three of them, and with shaking hands light up another cigarette. “Not to me.”

“Oh, fuck me,” she reaches for your pack and curses again when she looks down at the empty box. There’s a sharp rush on the palm of your hand, and hissing you look to see the indents of the ring rising like teeth marks. You give her yours instead and throw the box into the trash, heart pounding.

Just as they’re about to disappear round the corner, Sarah turns around and waves at the two of you, the light from her smile radiating across the block. With indulging reluctance, Joel raises his hand weakly before taking the corner.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

Masterlist here.

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