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dragonfics · 6 years ago

Text

Just Fine

(Smut vent fic)

Summary: “Sex is meant to be pleasurable—for both parties.” It's meant to be. But too often, as Rus quickly learns, it isn't.

Tags: Smut, lemons, bad sex, painful sex, penetrative sex, oral sex, lack of reciprocation, knotting, mention of vomiting, alcohol, loss of virginity, vaginal bleeding, eventual good sex, healthy spicyhoney

Ships: Spicyhoney, US Papyrus/Strangers

Word Count: ~7.4k

Notes: A vent fic regarding how different sex can be for those with vaginas when compared to those with dicks, and how vaginal pleasure is often secondary. This is a bit personal, and I definitely don’t claim to speak for everyone here. I know my experiences aren’t universal. Just something I wanted to write about.

Read on AO3

Below the cut

When Rus had pictured his first time, it had never been quite like this. It had been roses and soft kisses and the familiar warmth of a lover’s embrace. Not the cold, unwashed sheets of a stranger’s bed, after sneaking away from a party, tipsy out of his mind. The man’s mouth tasted strangely sweet, like the cherry and lime ale he’d shared with Rus. He was human too—another inconsistency with Rus’s fantasy, if not a significant one.

And, more to the point, it hurt. Not a lot, but enough that Rus was grateful when the human finally grunted and pulled out of him, flopping onto the mattress and shutting his eyes. Slowly, Rus sat up. “um... thanks,” he muttered, sliding off the bed. The human cracked an eye.

“Yeah, sure thing, babe. You get yours?”

“get my what?”

“I mean—did you finish?”

Rus blinked, then opened his mouth, realising what he meant. “oh—uh yeah. yeah. it was… good.” Was that how really how he’d describe it?

The man yawned and sat up, stretching. “Cool. Glad to hear it.” He watched Rus as he pulled his jeans back on, then winced. “Shit, you alright?” Rus looked down and his breath caught. Mingled with the cum on his thighs was a trace of red. Was he bleeding…?

“uh... shit. yeah—no, i’m okay.” He swallowed, wiping away the residue with his finger. It was warm and sticky.

The human zipped his jeans back up and dug in his jacket for a pack of cigarettes. “Didn’t realise it was your first time,” he said, flicking his lighter. “Would’ve gone gentler if you’d told me.”

“yeah... sorry, i should’ve mentioned it.” Rus tugged on his sleeve, fidgeting with the doorknob. He felt like he’d done something wrong.

The human exhaled a trail of smoke. “First time is meant to hurt though, right?”

Rus shrugged, twisting the doorknob. “yeah, i guess.” The man dusted ash onto the carpet and held out the box of cigarettes.

“Smoke?”

“uh, i’m good,” Rus said, though the smell made his throat itch needily. “think i’m just gonna go clean up.”

“Alright, take care,” the man said, waving him off. “And hey—” Rus turned, and the man winked. “Walk of shame. Enjoy it.” Rus couldn’t tell whether that was meant to be a joke or not, so he forced a smile and left quickly.

He pushed through the throng of sweaty bodies, avoiding curious stares and wandering hands until he found the bathroom. There was a human bent over the toilet bowl, retching while her friend held her hair back. The two of them paid Rus little heed beyond a momentary stare. He wet some paper towel in the sink and quietly unzipped his jeans, dabbing at the mess around his pelvis. The blood clung stubbornly to his bones and he gave up, tossing the wet towels in the trash.

The bathroom door burst open and he jumped, startled, before realising who it was. “oh, hey ‘dyne…”

“Rus!” Undyne shrieked—too loud. She hugged him, beaming, and if that wasn’t evidence enough of her intoxication, the tequila on her breath certainly was. “Where did you get off to? Alph and I were…” She blushed and looked down, nudging her glasses up her nose.

“well, i was just…” He glanced over his shoulder at the two humans, then leaned in. “i was actually with someone,” he said quietly. Undyne’s eyes went wide and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

“No way! Did you—?” Rus nodded sheepishly and Undyne squealed. “I can’t believe it! That’s crazy. How was it? You were just dancing one second and then the next I couldn’t find you—because you were—!”

“yeah,” Rus said, smiling faintly. “uh, it was… fine. it kind of hurt honestly.”

“Oh, but that’s just because it was your first time. It’ll feel better next time. Oh man, I can’t believe it!” She squeezed his arm. “You little slut, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me where you were going.” The gesture was in good spirit, but Rus’s throat felt tight.

“yeah, whoops.” He turned the tap on again and splashed cold water over his face, his sockets burning with tears. A few feet away, the human girl threw up again.

Cuddling was nice… ish. A little awkward, in truth. Rus couldn’t really move the way he wanted to, and his shoulder was cramping, and being a flame elemental, his partner gave off just a bit too much heat. Rus squirmed in his hold, and he chuckled, kissing his skull. “Getting restless, sweetheart?” he murmured, squeezing Rus’s inner femur.

He’d met the guy at a party and the conversation had been pleasant enough to warrant the exchange of numbers. They’d texted a bit, things had gotten heated (so to speak), and here they were, watching Netflix. It was a little cliché. Personally, Rus would have done away with the preamble and skipped straight to the sex, but this was… fine. Just fine.

He tucked himself closer to the elemental, trying to get comfortable. The elemental’s flames crackled. His mouth trailed from the crown of Rus’s skull down to his jaw, and whatever strange horror movie they’d been watching was all at once forgotten.

His tongue was hot against Rus’s neck, not unpleasantly so, but the sensation was unfamiliar. He kissed Rus deeply, licking into his mouth. “You know,” he whispered, planting a line of kisses down Rus’s face, “I’ve been thinking about your pretty mouth all night. Kind of been wondering what it looks like wrapped around my cock.” He pulled back to give Rus a sly grin, then purred, nuzzling into his neck.

“yeah? okay, i’ll see what i can do about that,” Rus said with a smile, cupping him through his sweatpants. Shit, he was hard already. Had he been hard through the entire movie, waiting for Rus to make a move? Rus cleared his throat. “i should probably warn you, i’m uh… not all that experienced at this.”

The elemental chuckled throatily, his flames crackling. “I find that hard to believe.” He pinched Rus’s chin, tilting his face. “After all those dirty things you said to me last night… I’m inclined to believe your mouth is just as dirty.” He nipped at Rus’s jaw, and Rus laughed, hoping it sounded genuine.

“right…” He shifted in his lap and tugged down his sweatpants. The elemental watched keenly as he ran his thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the bead of precum.

“Yeah, that’s it baby, c’mon. Let me see you put it in your mouth.” Crouching between his knees, Rus tentatively licked a circle around the head. It burned his tongue a little, but was otherwise bearable. “Oh yeah, that’s it. I think you can take it deep, babe. Show me what you can do.” Rus wasn’t confident. Even with a pseudo-throat, his gag reflex was overly-responsive.

But he was eager to please his partner. Or maybe just to prove himself. Whatever it was, it was enough for an attempt at deepthroating. He swallowed just a little, and got about half way before his throat began to itch. He choked and the elemental groaned, flattening his hand on the back of Rus’s skull and pushing down. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby. Let me just—” He grunted, bucking his hips, and his cock hit the back of Rus’s throat. “Oh, yes! Fuck.” He moaned loudly, mindless, apparently, of Rus’s discomfort.

It lasted a good ten minutes. Maybe twenty. Long enough to make Rus’s jaw ache and his throat burn. “Gah, no teeth, babe,” the elemental griped as reflex drove Rus to grimace. “Almost there.” Thank fuck, Rus thought, and he might have voiced it were his mouth not being used as a cocksleeve. The elemental held his head down and fucked his mouth, and with a rather unimpressive groan, buried himself all the way inside Rus’s throat and came. His hot release spilled into Rus’s throat, and contrary to his desires, he was forced to swallow it.

The air had never tasted sweeter. He buried a cough in his sleeve when the elemental let go of him at last. “Shit. Dude. That was amazing,” he breathed, slumping against the arm of the sofa. Rus was untangling himself from the blankets but the elemental pulled him back down and kissed him deeply, humming into his mouth. “Mm, we should definitely do that again. I was right about that dirty mouth, wasn’t I?”

Rus put the barest ounce of energy into the kiss before wriggling free. “ha, sure,” he said weakly, grimacing at the insincerity of his words. He scurried to the kitchen and drank straight from the tap, rinsing out his mouth and swallowing half a gallon of ice-cold water. His throat still felt singed.

When he returned to the living room, the elemental was dozing on the couch, while the TV flickered blue across the room. Sighing, Rus switched off the TV and left to take a shower. If he was lucky, maybe he could rub one out and pretend the sex (or lack thereof) hadn’t been dismally frustrating.

Finding partners online proved to be a thousand times easier than flirting at bars, and Rus wished he’d tried it out sooner. He spoke to a hundred odd men a day, but only a miniscule percentage of them ever saw his bed. And not for lack of effort on his part. But most of them seemed to fall into one of two categories—the over-eager pervert, or the ghost. Rus wasn’t particularly inclined to either. The odd few that fell outside of those categories usually went home with him.

They were fine.

Tonight, they ended up on the sofa. After a tedious non-debate over what movie they were going to (not) watch, Rus ended up in his partner’s lap. He was human, which made his lap somewhat comfy, though his hands were… disappointingly immobile. He held Rus around the waist, and from there—well, nothing. The movie slogged on for a good half hour before Rus realised he was likely expected to make the first move. A bit awkward from his position, but his patience was dwindling.

He twisted in the human’s arms, giving him a soft, but suggestive smile. “enjoying the movie?” he asked, tongue dancing across his teeth—just for a moment, he still enjoyed a degree of subtlety.

The human shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Rus held in a frustrated sigh. “just fine?” He smiled and touched the tip of his tongue to the human’s neck, tasting sweat. “anything i can do to make it more than just fine?” The human stirred, shifting his hips beneath Rus.

“Yeah? Like what?” Rus grinned cheekily and the human lifted him onto his back, tugging his pants off.

Underwhelming was the only word that could really describe it. It was over before Rus had even started, and the human didn’t breathe a word before getting up wandering down the hall to the bathroom. Rus couldn’t even say he was frustrated, just… bored.

Undyne set Rus up with a guy she knew from work. “He’s really nice, I swear!” she told him excitedly. “Real gentleman. And he has a great sense of humour. You’ll love him.” She wasn’t completely wrong. He was friendly, he laughed at Rus’s jokes, and he kept the conversation going well enough to stifle most awkward silences.

He took Rus to a drive-in movie on their first date, and insisted on driving him personally. More as a means of showcasing his ride than out of courtesy, Rus soon came to realise. “Just got her,” he’d said, patting the bonnet of the sleek car. “Wanted to take her out for a spin. What do you think?” Rus wasn’t an expert on cars, but he knew enough to be able to tell a good car from a bad one. This one was good (probably expensive), and had a spacious backseat.

Which may have been why they found themselves there halfway through the movie, mouths locked together while they undressed each other. “God, you’re gorgeous,” the other monster breathed as he unbuttoned Rus’s shirt. “Beautiful. Let me see you.” His words were kind, almost reverent, and in spite of himself, they made Rus blush. Soft paws scrambling over his body, and soon the monster had two fingers inside him. From his appearance, Rus had to guess he had some wolf in him (and so did he, his mind supplied). His fingers were long and his coordination was… awkward. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but he wasn’t hitting the right spots either.

“How’s that, baby?” he breathed feverishly, pushing his face into the nape of Rus’s neck. “Good?” Rus hummed a non-response and the wolf pressed himself closer. “Lie down, I wanna taste ya.” He crawled between Rus’s knees and lifted his legs over his shoulders. The warm swipe of his tongue over Rus’s clit made his breath catch.

“oh…”

“Mm, ya like that?” He pressed his tongue inside Rus, and Rus clutched to the fur on the back of his neck. It was… pretty good, honestly. More than fine, a nice change. But…

“Alright, sweetheart, let me see you on your knees.” It stopped all too soon. The wolf grinned, kissing him, his tongue probing. “Can you taste yourself? You taste real good, baby.” Rus hummed against his mouth in (false) affirmation, then sat back while the wolf unbuckled his jeans. And...

Oh. He was. He was big. There was no sugar-coating it. Rus studied his cock and swallowed, and the wolf’s yellow eyes glinted. “Yeah? You like it, sweetheart? Ready to taste my nice thick cock?” Rus’s smile was so heartily feigned, it couldn’t have fooled anyone. Well. Except for this guy, apparently. He grinned and kissed Rus before leaning back. “That’s it, babe, let me see that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

Rus slipped into the small space between the front and back seat that passed for a floor. It was cramped, but it was the only position that gave him a good angle. He licked the wolf’s cock tentatively, swirling his tongue around the head. “Fuck…” he breathed, stroking the back of Rus’s skull. “That’s it, babe, keep goin’. All the way.”

Rus managed to get about half way before his gag reflex caught up with him. He coughed and pulled off, wiping his mouth. “Fuck, good boy,” the wolf breathed, rubbing Rus’s arm. “You’re such a good boy, that felt real good. I know you can keep going.” Rus took him in again, this time at an easier pace. “Oh, that’s it.” He bobbed his head, moving down in increments. “Fuck, lemme see how deep you can go. Let me see you take that big dick—far as you can go, baby, oh, oh, fuck yeah.”

Rus made admirable progress, holding just long enough for the wolf to thrust and catch him in the back of the throat. He swallowed a gag, pulling off quickly, and the wolf exhaled. “Come up, come up here, sweetheart.” He beckoned lazily and Rus sat back up on the seat, letting the wolf guide him into a sloppy kiss. “You want it inside you now?” he purred against Rus’s neck. “Wanna feel that nice big dick inside your pretty cunt?”

Rus nodded with lacklustre enthusiasm. “mhm,” he hummed, his inflection just off. The wolf grinned, kissing him as he lowered him onto his back and lined himself up. It took just the tip inside him for Rus to realise it wasn’t going to fit. “ah!” He winced, digging his fingers into the wolf’s back as he sank in. “ah, fuck!”

The wolf grinned, lapping at his neck. “That good, baby? You like that? Yeah, you like that big dick, don’t ya? Fuck you’re tight. You feel so good, sweetheart, so good.” He pushed deeper and a cry slipped from Rus—fuck it hurt, it hurt so much. He shut his eyes and held on, panting. “Oh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Love hearing you scream like that. Fuck, it’s hot.” With no further grace, he pounded into Rus, and then Rus really did scream. The wolf gave a howl of pleasure, dragging Rus flush against his body as he fucked him.

It lasted longer than Rus was used to—and usually, he’d be thankful for that. Longer sex increased his odds of getting off. Only this time, it did nothing but extend his pain. His cunt felt like it was being split open, each thrust jolting his entire body. “Oh, sweetheart,” the wolf moaned, slowing to a gentle roll of his hips. “Let’s turn you over, I wanna take you from behind.” Limbs shaking, Rus got onto all fours. The wolf wrapped an arm around his torso and slowly pushed into him.

The angle was no better. If anything, it was deeper—too deep, each thrust jarring. Grateful the wolf couldn’t see his face, Rus shut his eyes, wincing against tears.

He knew it was over when the wolf buried himself deep and held himself there, exhaling against Rus’s neck. Hot ropes of cum coated his inner walls, and—wait, was that…? “are you… knotting me?” Rus asked, not bothering to hide the discomfort in his voice. Somehow, his tone still seemed to pass the wolf’s notice.

“Ah, shit… yeah, sorry. Should’ve warned you about that.” He stroked Rus’s spine as he filled him, the stream of cum unceasing.

“um, yeah maybe?” Rus grimaced, pressing his face into his folded arms. “shit…”

“Can be a bit intense, or so I’m told.” He laughed hoarsely and pressed his body close. “But nice, huh?” Well, the stretch was overwhelming, but it did beat being pounded into the car seat. Fractionally.

The wolf’s cock softened eventually, but the damage was done. Rus was tender and sore, and his inner thighs were slick with cum… and blood. He inhaled sharply and quickly pulled up his jeans to hide it.

When Rus got out of bed the next morning, his pelvis ached. Sitting down hurt, and walking was… awkward. He caught a glimpse of his neck in the bathroom mirror and winced internally. Bruises flushed the bone a purple-grey colour, and the wolf’s teeth had left some pretty telling marks. He picked out a black turtleneck, and spent most of the day on his feet.

Around noon, he received a text from an unsaved number.

Wanted to get in contact with you again so ‘Dyne gave me your number! Just wanted to emphasise how amazing last night was for me. Would love to do it again sometime. - Dom

Against all odds, Rus did end up seeing him again. Really, Dominic was a nice guy. A little cocky, and a little rough, but nice. Fine. The second time they met, Rus sheepishly managed to stutter out that last time was maybe a little too rough and that maybe, if possible, he’d like to perhaps go just a little bit slower this time. Maybe.

“Well, shit, why didn’t ya tell me to stop if I was hurting you?” Dominic asked him, and that stumped Rus a little.

“i know i should’ve. i—i’m sorry. i… i don’t know.” His chest clenched with guilt. He’d messed up miserably. A part of him wondered how Dominic hadn’t noticed. Surely there’d been no mistaking his cries of pain for pleasure? Surely he’d noticed the awkward way Rus had been sitting while they saw the movie through afterward? Surely he’d seen the blood on his pelvis?

Dominic shrugged, lying down next to him. “S’all good. We’ll try and go slower this time, yeah?”

A seed of warmth grew in Rus’s chest, and he smiled. “thanks, dominic.”

He patted Rus’s shoulder. “Hey—remember, call me Dom.”

It was better. Not great, but better. Fine. Dominic gave him a little more room to control the pace, but he quickly found himself on his back again. “Fuck, you know how hard it is to hold myself back,” Dominic growled against his skull as he rolled into him. “Feels so good being inside you, baby, I just wanna go balls deep.” Rus closed his eyes, shuddering. In many ways, the dirty talk was appealing. It was nice to know his partner was into it. Nice to know he was doing something right. But on the other hand… it didn’t exactly hit the right spots.

“You know what was really good last time?” Dominic murmured, licking along Rus’s jawline. “Seeing my dick in your mouth. You liked that, didn’t you? Having a nice big cock in your mouth?”

God, I get it! Your dick is big! Rus wanted to scream, but instead he smiled, nodding. “yeah,” he said weakly.

“Yeah?” Dominic caressed his face with the back of his hand, tender despite his words. Rus nodded with forced eagerness and Dominic grinned, kissing him briefly before rolling off him.

Sucking him off was no less onerous than it had been last time. Rus still couldn’t take him all the way in, though Dominic seemed inclined to get him to try. At length, he patted the back of Rus’s skull. “Alright, come up, I wanna try something else.” Relieved, Rus sat up, and Dominic caught his hips, dragging him upward. “Lemme eat you out while you suck my dick,” he said. “Wanna taste that sweet cunt again.”

“o-okay,” Rus stammered, a little confounded. This was unfamiliar territory. He’d never tried this position before. He lay with his hips over Dominic’s face while his skull fell in line with his cock. The angle was strange, but the reciprocation was appreciated. Dominic pressed his tongue deep inside Rus and he moaned around his cock. Fuck. This was something he could get used to, even if it meant a throatful of dick.

“Shit, that’s it,” Dominic breathed against his cunt. “Keep goin’, baby, I’m getting so close.” He licked a strip down Rus’s inner folds then let his hips drop, ceasing his own performance. Rus lifted his head but Dominic stroked the back of his neck, easing him back down. “Keep goin’, sweetheart, keep goin’, nearly there, fuck…”

You are, but I’m not, Rus thought resentfully. He bobbed his head until Dominic gripped the back of his neck and thrust upward, releasing a stream of cum into his mouth. Rus coughed and it dribbled down his chin and onto the bedsheets. “Aw, sweetheart, fuck… that was hot.” Dominic chuckled, rubbing Rus’s coccyx. “You look good from this angle.”

Rus’s laugh sounded strained, even to him. He climbed off Dominic and sank into the mattress. His cunt still throbbed needily, unsatisfied. He ran a finger lightly over his clit, then looked up at Dominic. “hey, uh, you don’t mind if i… get myself off, do you?” he asked apprehensively.

Dominic eyed him, lifting an eyebrow. “Ha, multiple orgasm kinda guy?”

Multiple—?! Rus laughed feebly. “heh, guess so, yeah.” He turned on his side, resting his chin against Dominic’s bicep as he touched himself. His own careful hands were a staggering contrast to Dominic’s more forceful manner. He moaned softly, burying his face in Dominic’s shoulder and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck… listen to ya. Love seeing you make yourself feel good, babe.” Dominic closed his hand over Rus’s, attempting to guide his movements. “Need an extra hand?” He pressed a thick finger inside Rus and Rus tensed against the intrusion. Fuck, he was so close, could this idiot not—?!

He breathed and kept going, trying not to let it deter him. Dominic was oblivious, but there was something to be said for his eagerness to please. It was heartier praise than Rus could offer his past lovers.

In the end, though, it fell just short of enough. Frustratingly, his climax refused to come, and he settled for a fake one, lest they be here all night. He moaned and squeezed Dominic’s shoulder, then relaxed. At this point, Dominic had two fingers inside him, and was pumping them hard beyond the point of pleasure. He slipped them out of Rus and lifted them to Rus’s mouth. “Come on, baby, taste yourself.” Rus obediently sucked on his fingers and Dominic’s eyes fell half-lidded. “Fuck, that’s good, isn’t it? You feel good?”

Not even close! Am I not even allowed to come on my own terms?! Can I not have a moment to myself where you’re not trying to prove to me how fantastic you are in bed? Can I just enjoy myself instead of sitting subject to your showcase of your own damn ineptitude?

Caving, Rus smiled. “yeah, that was nice.”

Dominic smiled and corralled him tightly, kissing his forehead. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that.” He chuckled quietly to himself, as if sharing a private joke. “You’re probably going to think I’m just saying this to get you into bed again—and maybe I kind of am, just a tad—but… man, I love spending time with you. Feels good having you close by.” He squeezed Rus to his chest. “Mind if I spend the night?”

“of course not.” Because how could he say no after such a heartfelt confession? Rus’s insides were squirming. He wanted a shower… and to sleep alone. But, he made do. This was fine.

His relationship with Dominic endured beyond its expiry date. It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes it was nice to be able to lie next to someone and know they cared for you a little more than people usually did. Other times, Rus just wanted to scream at him to shut up about the size of his damn dick! In the end, he was left with a few fond memories, and a few bitter ones. He tried to focus on the fond ones, for the most part.

Months rolled into years, and Rus kept his distance from anything that resembled romance. Casual sex remained a pass time, but none of it particularly noteworthy. Undyne had a fondness of bars. Not that Rus minded much, but it did mean he spent a significant amount of time in the line of fire of flirty guys. It wasn’t all bad, really. In some ways, he enjoyed the attention.

But man. Some nights he just needed a break. Was sitting alone wearing sweatpants and a pulled-up hoodie not enough of a deterrent? Did he really look like he was here to get laid?! Apparently yes, if the four men who approached him over the course of the evening were any indication to the fact.

“You need to relax,” Undyne said, swaying past him in time to the jukebox music, drink in hand. “I mean, sure they’re a little over-eager, but…” She glanced around then leaned in. “Don’t tell me all that attention isn’t kind of flattering.” Rus didn’t miss the note of resentment in her voice.

He hummed, swirling his virgin martini around the glass. “guess i’m just not really in the mood tonight. sorry, didn’t mean to kill your buzz or anything.”

Undyne patted his shoulder. “Nah, you’re good. I mean, I should be thanking you for volunteering to drive…. Thanks.” She grinned, and Rus smiled up at her.

“it’s okay. wasn’t really planning on drinking anyway.”

She crouched, gripping his shoulder to keep her balance, then giving it a gentle squeeze as if the move had been deliberate. “Why don’t you come dance with me? They’re playing really good music tonight!”

Rus eyed the small stage, where monsters and humans clamoured and swayed out of time to the music. “uh, that’s okay. think i’ll just sit here.” He nodded at the dancefloor. “that bun looks like she’s making eyes at you, though. why don’t you go and say hello?” Undyne glanced over her shoulder, her cheeks flushing. “go on,” Rus said, grinning.

“I, uh—okay, um…” She turned to look at Rus, her eyes frantic. “Do I—do I look okay?” She made an attempt at flattening her hair and he laughed.

“you look great! now go, before she finds another fish in the sea.” Undyne gave him a disapproving glare before she hurried across the room and into the gathered crowd. Rus watched her disappear, then returned to disinterestedly nursing his drink. He’d barely taken a sip, but having a drink in his hand gave him the ‘i already have a drink’ escape line if anyone offered to buy him one.

The night wore on, and the bar began to empty. Rus barely left his seat, apart from a couple of bathroom breaks, which were more an excuse to get himself out of conversations with handsy men. Being a Tuesday night, the place closed at one, and by midnight, it was nearly empty…

And naturally, there was no sign of Undyne. Grudgingly getting up from his coveted chair, Rus searched the place and came up empty-handed. More an inconvenience than a reason to be alarmed—Undyne had a tendency to wander into stranger’s beds without telling Rus where she was going. He returned to his seat, figuring he may as well wait until closing to see if she turned up.

“Lost someone?”

Rus glanced up as the bartender rolled his sleeves up and wiped down his table with a cloth. “no... well, yes. but she’ll turn up.” He chewed his tongue, eyeing the bartender up and down. He was a skeleton monster too, but his features were hardened by scars and his bones were thicker and rougher than Rus’s. Horns curled from his skull, and his crimson eye-lights flicked over Rus as he cleaned.

“We’re closing in fifteen minutes. You have a ride home?”

“yeah, i haven’t been drinking, i’ll be fine.”

The bartender lifted a brow bone. “Alright.” He moved on to the next set of tables, stacking the chairs. Inadvertently, Rus’s eyes followed the curve of his hip as he walked. He quickly pulled his gaze away and dug in his pockets for his keys, but came up empty. His phone also appeared to be missing.

Shit. He must have left them in Undyne’s purse. Well. That was inconvenient as fuck. “hey, uh…” He stood up and walked after the bartender. “you don’t happen to have a payphone here, do you?” The bartender glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

“Lost your ride?”

“lost my keys,” Rus said, narrowing his sockets. His indignance only made the bartender smile wider, but he nodded at the bar.

“Behind the bar. There’s a jar of change there too if you need it.”

“i have my own change, but thanks.” He marched up to the phone, flipping through the pages of the phonebook in search of a taxi company. He leaned against the bricks of the back wall as the phone rang, glancing around the bar. The place was empty now, just the bartender circling the room. It was strange how it seemed to shrink without all its patrons.

The call stopped, greeting him with a dead dial tone. He scowled, searching for more change in his pockets and finding none. He eyed the free change jar dismally. Was his dignity really worth sacrificing a ride home?

“You know, if you’re having trouble getting home, I sleep upstairs. You’re welcome to spend the night here.” The bartender’s eyes were on him, and his smile hinted at more than a mere courtesy, a charming glint in his red eye-lights. He lifted a stool onto the bartop. “Or you could hitchhike. I hear the strangers are friendly in these parts.” Hardly true. This was about as down as downtown got.

“hilarious,” Rus said, hanging up the unhelpful payphone. “and are you actually trying to get me into bed right now?”

The bartender cocked a brow. “I don’t believe I made any mention of sex.”

Rus folded his arms and gave a lofty snort. “well—neither did i.” Well done, Rus. Totally dignified. The bartender’s mouth curled, and he returned to cleaning.

It took all of ten minutes for both of them to eat their words. Rus learned that the bartender’s name was Edge, and that he was a very good kisser. After closing up, he led Rus upstairs to the attic, where he pinned him against the bedroom door. Once he’d gotten Rus’s hoodie out the way, he occupied himself with his neck, latching onto it with his teeth. They were razor sharp, but he was careful with them. He had a way of focusing magic on just the tip of his tongue that made Rus shiver.

“you live here alone?” Rus asked, looking around the attic. It was orderly, and surprisingly homely. Shelves stacked with books, plush carpets, a table of figurines. “it’s nice.”

“I own the whole place,” Edge said between kisses. “And yes, it is nice.” He caught Rus around the waist and lower spine and drew him in close, kissing his bare ribs and sternum. Rus closed his eyes and exhaled, magic trickling down to his pubic arch. He gasped as Edge lifted him with a hand braced under his pelvis, his mouth never leaving Rus’s clavicle. Instinctively, Rus wrapped his legs around Edge’s waist and felt the press of his hard length through his jeans.

“so how often do you fuck your patrons up here?” he asked. Edge lowered him onto the bed and crawled between his knees, pausing to brush his thumb over Rus’s cheek. The gesture was brief, and likely meant nothing, but it made Rus blush.

“More often than I should, less often than I’d like,” Edge answered. Then, with a smirk, “Usually the sober ones who’ve been abandoned by their drunk friends.” Rus rolled his eyes.

“not the drunk ones?”

“You’ve seen one drunk idiot, you’ve seen them all.” Edge pushed their hips together and made a soft noise of satisfaction. “You’re comfortable with this?”

Rus blinked slowly. “uh... sure?”

Edge paused, frowning. “I mean—you’re comfortable bottoming?” At first, Rus mistook the question for a joke, and laughed. But Edge’s steady gaze didn’t waver.

“oh, you’re serious. yeah—yeah i like bottoming…” Not a complete lie. He liked it when he was alone and actually achieved climax.

“Alright.” Edge placed a tender kiss on Rus’s forehead and—shit, he was blushing again.

“um, i—here.” Reaching for a distraction, Rus unbuckled Edge’s belt. “let me—”

Edge caught his wrist. “If you’re bottoming, you’re going first.”

Rus stared at him, then let his hand drop. “o-okay.” He watched with magic in his mouth as Edge carefully pulled off his sweatpants, crouching between his parted knees.

“This is okay, right?”

Rus laughed helplessly. “you don’t have to keep asking.”

“We barely know each other. I’m not familiar with your non-verbal cues—so yes, I do have to keep asking.” Rus looked at him with a degree of alarm, but mustered a nod.

“well... alright. um, yes, yes, this is good.”

Fuck, more than good, he thought, as Edge began eating him out. He was gentle, slow with his tongue, and had a knack for finding Rus’s pressure points. He hooked his arms beneath Rus’s knees and lifted his legs over his shoulders. Rus exhaled and moaned softly, running his fingers over Edge’s horns. Edge grunted and pressed his tongue deep, right against a spot that made Rus whine. “Sorry,” he breathed, pulling back. “They’re sensitive.”

“oh—” Rus quickly let go of his horns. “sorry, i didn’t mean to—”

“Sensitive in the sense that you should definitely keep touching them.” Edge’s provocative smile was enough to banish all of Rus’s qualms. With little more than a stupefied nod, he gripped onto Edge’s horns and explored their texture, stroking the small ridges and chips. In short order, Edge had his tongue inside him again, and this time, Rus had difficulty keeping his cries restrained.

Yet all too soon, Edge sat up, bringing his pleasure to a slamming halt. Rus watched with veiled disappointment as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. Crawling up to kneel between Rus’s legs, he gently slid two fingers inside him. “This okay?” he asked, scissoring them.

“yeah,” Rus said faintly. “fine.” Edge contemplated him, carefully slipping his fingers out.

“Just fine?” he asked, his mouth curling upward. He lined himself up, pressing just the tip of his cock inside. “You want me to slow down? Vodka. Stop? Tequila.”

“is that a bartender joke?” Rus asked, deadpan.

Edge smiled. “If you don’t stop after the tequila, you’re in trouble.” He stroked Rus’s jaw with the back of his hand. “You good?”

Rus nodded robotically. “yeah.”

“You sure? I can go down on you for longer if you need more time.” Oh, what a tempting offer.

“it’s—it’s fine. you can keep going. this is good.” Rus squirmed beneath him and wrapped his legs around his waist. Edge sighed deeply and kissed him, just a gentle brush of teeth on teeth, then pushed his tongue into Rus’s mouth, kissing him deeply. He pushed forward with his hips, sinking about halfway before Rus tensed. “vodka!” he blurted, squeezing his fists around a handful of sheets. Edge stopped at once and withdrew a centimetre. “fuck…” Rus turned his face away. “i’m sorry—”

“Sorry? For using a designated caution word? Don’t be.” Edge pulled all the way out and Rus slumped, guilt gnawing at his insides.

“i just… i’m ruining this…”

“You’re not.” The look on Edge’s face was so tender, so cautiously mindful, that Rus had to avert his eyes. It was stewing emotions he really didn’t know how to deal with. “I know we barely know each other, but a one-night stand is a mutual agreement. If you’re not getting anything out of this, then I don’t want to keep going.”

“no, i am!” Rus wanted to bury himself. “gah—fuck, i’m sorry, i just—i don’t want you to feel like you have to make special accommodations just for me. this is just meant to be… sex.”

Edge lifted a concerned brow. “Sex is meant to be pleasurable—for both parties.”

“well, i know that…” Rus shifted uncomfortably beneath Edge, biting his tongue.

“How about this—” Edge rolled them over, setting Rus atop his hips. “You control the pace.”

Adjusting himself in Edge’s lap, Rus nodded. He fumbled Edge’s dick inside himself, grinding slowly. It slipped out and he grit his teeth. “fucking hell… i’m sorry.”

Edge shook his head, stroking Rus’s iliac crests. “Take your time. At the very least, I have a spectacular view from down here.” Rus blushed and hummed bemusedly, while Edge stroked his ribs with gentle hands.

After another couple of attempts, he managed to get Edge’s cock inside himself—just the first couple of inches. “Is that comfortable?” Edge asked. Rus nodded, closing his eyes and breathing out. “That’s it,” Edge said softly, stroking his femurs. “Nice and easy.” He sighed. “Mm, that feels good, Rus.”

Bracing his hands on Edge’s chest, Rus rocked back and forth on his cock. The pace was slow, just a grind of his hips, but fuck, it felt nice. The angle was just right, and the movements were easy to maintain. Being able to control the pace made it easier to relax, too. Edge’s hands wandered, but he didn’t try to take over, or even direct Rus.

“How does that feel?” he asked, brushing Rus’s inner thigh with his thumb. “Good?” Breathing deeply, Rus nodded. “Can I kiss you?” The question was so simple, yet there was so much consideration in Edge’s tone, that Rus laughed.

“yes, yes you can.” He leaned forward onto Edge’s chest and met his mouth. The kiss was slow, timed pleasantly with the gentle rocking of Rus’s hips. Rus shut his eyes and rested his head on Edge’s shoulder. “this angle feels good.”

“It does,” Edge breathed, kissing his neck and resting a hand on his lower spine.

“should i go faster?” Rus asked, moaning quietly as Edge trickled his fingers down his spine, making it prickle warmly.

“Only if you want to.”

“but—” Rus swallowed. “faster feels better for you, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, love, this feels just fine, trust me.”

Rus held back a smile. “just fine?”

Edge shook his head, though his amusement betrayed him. “More than.” For the first time, he gave the smallest thrust of his hips. His cock hit a sweet spot inside Rus and he whined, burying his face in the nape of Edge’s neck. “You’re doing so well.”

Pressure built in the pit of Rus’s pelvic cavity, hot magic rushing to his cunt. He bit Edge’s neck and Edge groaned deeply, clinging to his back. “You’re amazing at this, by the way,” he breathed. “Amazing.” His breaths were coming shorter now, quick gasps as he let his hands wander over Rus’s back.

“fuck, this feels so good,” Rus gasped, sitting up. He rubbed his clit, grinding hard. Edge’s face contorted with pleasure. He opened his mouth, gasping, then shut his eyes and groaned. Rus felt a burst of wet warmth filling him as Edge dug his fingers into his hips.

“Fuck,” he gasped, dragging his fingertips down Rus’s ribs. When he began to relax, Rus stopped moving and slowly climbed off him. He tried to hold back the crushing disappointment, but his chest felt heavy.

Exhaling, Edge lay back, wiping his hand over his eyes. “Sorry. I. I got a little lost in the moment there.”

“it’s fine.” Rus searched the floor for his pants, sliding off the bed.

“Hey.” Edge caught his wrist, pulling him back down. “Let me finish you off.” Deliberating briefly, Rus let Edge drag him back into bed. Edge climbed on top of him and kissed him deeply before sinking down and pressing his face between his femurs. Rus let his hands wander Edge’s horns. They were a degree warmer than the rest of his body, flushed with magic.

Edge lifted Rus’s legs around his shoulders and pressed his tongue deep. His mouth was warm against Rus’s cunt, and his own lingering release seemed of little bother. Rus’s climax built, sitting on the brink… before fading. But it wasn’t enough to deter Edge. He kept going, stroking Rus’s femurs as he did.

A good fifteen minutes passed and Rus’s frustration began to mount. “edge, i’m sorry… i’m taking so long. you don’t have to keep going…”

Edge looked up, a flicker of empathy crossing his face. “I want to keep going.” He smiled warmly and kissed Rus’s femur. “I’m enjoying myself. Honestly. You sound beautiful, and I like the feeling of you beneath my tongue.” His smile grew when Rus shuddered. “Unless you want me to stop.”

Rus shook his head, letting go of a breath. “fuck no.”

“Good.”

Edge ran his thumb over Rus’s outer folds and ducked his head again. Watching him became something of a delight for Rus. He stroked his horns and took satisfaction in knowing someone was willing to put this much time and effort into giving him just a moment of pleasure.

When he came at last, he clung to Edge’s horns, tipping his head back. Edge licked his clit delicately, channelling magic into the gesture, and Rus whined, then breathed out. Trailing kisses up his hip, then his spine, Edge came to settle on Rus’s chest. “How was that?” he murmured, eyes closed, smile soft.

“th-that’s the first time i’ve ever come during sex,” Rus confessed. The moment the words were out, his soul shrivelled. He blushed hotly and chewed on his fingertips. “sorry, that was… not the right time to share that.”

Edge laughed quietly. “On the contrary, I’m very flattered. Immediate feedback is always appreciated.”

Rus groaned, his embarrassment deepening. “oh, fuck… i just. i just have a very hard time coming during sex, i guess. especially from penetration. it’s nice, but i…” He shrugged helplessly.

Edge studied him with a mingle of amusement and pity. “Perhaps you’ve just been with the wrong people.”

“oh, and what? you’re mister right?”

“Being able to get your partner to come is the bare minimum,” Edge said, a tad bitterly. “You forget, we share biology. I’ve been in your position, believe me. I thought it was me. But…” He smiled wryly. “I’m pickier about my partners now. If they’re going to be coming, so am I.” He circled a finger around Rus’s sternum. “And vice versa. What’s important to me is that you enjoyed yourself.” He lifted his head, giving Rus a searching look. “Did you?”

Rus smiled, bending down to kiss him. “i did,” he said, and for once, he meant it.

#my writing #lemons #work inappropriate #spicyhoney #papcest #us papyrus #uf papyrus #OCs #vent fic

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seraph-needs-help · 6 years ago

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I’ve decided to finally put in my two cents. On what? On equality. For the genders, the races, the lovers, the humans. You’d imagine that, after years of fighting oppression, that people would be treated equally. Women wouldn't be oppressed. Blacks (and every race other than white, for that matter) wouldn’t be oppressed. LGBT+ folks wouldn’t be oppressed. But no, people are still attacked for being alive.

A lot of people may say I’m in no place to speak for equality, that since I’m white, I’m completely out of touch with oppression. But I’m pretty damn in touch, if I say so myself. I’m a pansexual woman. I’ve been attacked-- mostly verbally-- because I have a vagina and I dared to love other people with vaginas.

Now, for what I came here for. Over the past few years, my middle school years and now my almost full first year of high school, I’ve been writing. I write constantly. Oftentimes it’s fun stories, but I’ve also dabbled in more controversial things. I’ve decided I want to share them here. I’ll share one here and attach the others by reblogging with them, until I’ve shared all that I can. And maybe, as I write more, I’ll share them, too.

I’m not claiming to know everything here. I don’t want people attacking me over this. I just want to share my writing. The words of a depressed teenager who’s afraid to walk to my bus stop in the morning because it’s dark and there’s untrustworthy people in my neighborhood. I write this for my brothers and sisters who are abused and killed because they aren’t straight cis white men.

So... Here we go.

Rape culture. It's so common that the term doesn't even cause people to look away from their phones. Despite this, it's still taboo to talk about. When a man tries to stand against rape culture, he's told that, as a man, he's not at fault. With this mindset, consent becomes worthless and it's all about what he wants. When a woman tries to stand against rape, she's told that, as a woman, she's at fault. Her dress was too tight or her skirt was too short or she drank too much or it was her make up or how she was sitting. When a man pushes himself against her at a party, drunken and speaking through slurred words, and the woman says no, he calls her a prude; a whore; a bitch. Because apparently, not wanting to have sex with a stranger makes you, the woman, a terrible person. But when the man presses on and the woman finds herself beaten and bloody and disgusting, drowning in her own tears and fluids that are not her own, alone in a bathroom or bedroom or elsewhere, she's the villain. Why? She said no, but to him it meant yes, and why does he get the say in her matter? And when she fights for herself and puts her foot down, she's still the villain. Women are still treated like mindless objects of sexual desire, created for men to fullfill their dreams, and every woman who dared to use the brain that her mother gave her, she's suddenly defective and better off dead. Lost in a dirty ditch with dirty words being thrown at her mangled body. Speaking of mothers, they aren't always the knight in shining armor for young girls to cry to after being assaulted. Sometimes, the parents of these victims are just as bad. The people that are supposed to be our saviors are being our downfalls. Some mothers tell their daughters to close their legs and dress appropriately because instead of teaching the young girls of the next generation to stand up for themselves, they're taught to stand down and let their bodies be used for men's pleasure. And some fathers tell their sons to push on if a girl says no and that consent means nothing unless it comes from his mouth, and these boys aren't being taught to respect fellow human lives. When people dare to say that rape is wrong, they are put off. "What, did your feminazi girlfriend make you say that?" "Oh, is it that time of the month again?" Women are constantly told to sit down and let these things happen and men are told that this is okay. We are raising a generation that will rape and be raped mercilessly because we are still, in 2019, teaching people that this is normal. It shouldn't be. It never should have been. And rape isn't just one drunk teen boy going after the hot girl in his grade, it spans over all ages and professions and for all kinds of reasons. Children are raped because they don't understand consent and they're too small to fight. Disabled people are raped because they're too weak to fight. People who are lgbt will be raped because clearly they just haven't met the right man yet! And yeah, Kyle from history class is the one who will "save you from your curse of being gay". But it's not just limited to women being assaulted by men, it has gone the other way around, too. It's just not heard of as much because it's not as common, but it should be treated just the same. When men are raped, they're told that since it's sex, they're supposed to enjoy it. That's the man thing, sleeping around because you're always in the mood. When a man comes forward and cries because he didn't want what happened to him and people still punish him for the other's fault, he's told to man up and not cry, because the fact that he dares to show emotions is the issue here. We're told as children to not trust strangers. That there are bad people out there who will do bad things to us. But most rape victims are assaulted by someone close to them. Friends, classmates, significant others, people's own familes will do these things to them. Imagine it. Someone close to you, someone you have trusted your entire life, someone that you are supposed to trust, violating you. Burning every bridge you had with them and burning the ashes, then expecting you to rebuild those bridges from the ashes yourself, just so they can be burnt again. And so many of these people have to live with this, for some it's a regular occurence of family bridge burning. Because who would believe that sweet old Uncle John would do such a thing to his young niece, she just has an overactive imagination and misread an awkward situation. These people's stories will be ignored or thrown in their face as an insult for years and years and years. Some are never able to escape it. A lot of people don't realize the extent of sexual assault either. It's not just rape, but cat-calling and sexual advances, unwanted flirting or touches. That's all ignored when a man and a woman come into play. Men will yell a degrading, so called compliment to a woman across the street, and when she's made uncomfortable from his actions and words, she's yet again the bad guy. "Women just don't know how to take a compliment nowadays!" Well maybe women don't like being told by total strangers that they have nice boobs and are perfect for sex. Maybe there's a better way to show your respect towards someone. Just an idea though. I've always found clothing to be the stupidest argument when it comes to this topic. Because rape has been an issue for a long, long time, as long as man has known how to use their dick, they've been taking advantage of it. Back when women wore dresses that covered everything, neck down to the floor, and they wore multiple layers, rape was still a thing. Now someone could wear a short, tight dress or a big sweater and baggy jeans and either way, they're asking for it. Because, obviously, women only dress up and make themselves look nice as an invitation for men to assault them. It's just the only reasonable answer. It seems that every part of a woman's outfit is being called out. She wore a dress to a club with her friends? Asking for it. She wore heels that match that dress? Asking for it. She wore makeup? Asking for it. She wore lacy underwear? How scandalous, oh she was definitely asking for it now. It's just so stupid that this is considered a debateable topic. That there are people who think that rape is okay. That throwing out someone's trust and violating them in one of the worst ways possible is just a-okay! Those are the people I fear. The ones who think that consent isn't a concern and all that. Because even if they haven't assaulted someone, or aren't even planning on it, they still would support a rapist. "Think about how much it will destory his reputation if he's a rapist!" Because people think that not destroying a monster will make it disappear. "But he has a family!" And? Lots of people have families, that doesn't stop them from assaulting others. Family is no longer an ally in this war because when people bring up loved ones and their morals, they don't realize that neither of those things are on their side. When a man decided to rape someone, that means that he threw out his love and his morals a long time ago. No one who cares about their family or their religion or their job or whatever they hell they once had would rape someone because if you cared, you wouldn't risk it. You wouldn't put everything on the line for something meaningless. You wouldn't throw your life away to assault someone. These people don't have morals now and probably never had them in the first place. That's rape culture.

#rape culture #feminism #feminist #lgbtq #lgbtpride #lgbt #equality #love is equal #equal rights #writing

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astronomyparkers · 7 years ago

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The Upside of Falling Down {IV}

Warnings: Language, mentions of nsfw content

Pairing: University!Peter Parker x reader

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: So. It’s been about three months since I updated this fic??? I would like to sincerely apologize for the wait. University is hard and I was just completely swamped and dealing with four breakdowns per week and then I had a bunch of family issues but!!!!! My finals are just starting and then I will be free to write!!!! So I hope to have updates that are much more frequent. Thank you so much for sticking with this story, as it means the world to me. All my love.

{masterlist}

Your dorm was pitch black, with the only light coming from the LED screen of your alarm clock. Outside, rain continued to pour down, thunderous on the roof of your building. Under normal circumstances, the comforting noise would have lulled you to sleep long ago, but your mind was too wired to reach unconsciousness. With a frustrated sigh, you turned over onto your back, staring at the ceiling above you. The girl that had lived here last year had plastered glow in the dark stars all over the dorm roof, and although you had no idea how she got away with creating a model of the night sky, you always stared at them and tried to make out the constellations when you couldn’t sleep.

Your hand reached up and traced the outline of Ursa Major as your mind recalled how you had traced the lines and planes of Peter’s body earlier. Sex with Peter Parker had not been something you ever thought would happen, or something you ever thought you wanted to happen. When you had woken up from the post sex nap, you had slipped out of bed and gotten dressed as quickly as possible before creeping out of the dorm; you hadn’t even looked back at Peter’s sleeping form before you shut the door behind you. You had thought that you would put the whole incident behind you, chalk the whole thing up to anger-driven lust, and forget about it, yet your mind wouldn’t shut off. It was like you were stuck playing a highlight reel of the entire encounter. You could feel the ghost of his touch all over your body, and it was driving you insane—partially because thinking about being touched like that again was…something, but mostly because it was Peter.

For the past month, you had had this weird pseudo-friendship with him. You didn’t particularly like him, he didn’t particularly like you, and you were nervous about accidentally spilling his Spider-Man secret twenty four/seven, but at least you knew where you stood. When he said that you two were dating, it changed things. And when you slept with him, it changed things again. You had no idea how to act around him now; how would you look him in the eye after everything that you two had done? And, even more concerning, how would you look him in the eye now that you knew just how good he was at pleasuring you?

Because that was the problem. If Peter had been mediocre or barely halfway decent at sex, you could’ve forgotten about it. You really could have. But somehow, between being a straight A student and an Avenger, he had also found time to become really good at sex, and honestly? It wasn’t fair. There was a pyramid of ideal qualities that you looked for in a guy, with the three points being smart, kind hearted, and good in bed, but so far, any guy who you had applied the pyramid test to had fallen prey to what you and your friends called the Bermuda Triangle of Boyfriends Bind. Any guy who you were interested in never fulfilled all three categories. While a boy could be smart and good in bed, he was a dick personality-wise. If he was kind and intelligent, he seemed to be unaware of how a vagina actually worked. You never actually thought that you would find someone who checked every box at once, or that it would be someone you couldn’t actually stand.

It was a bind, indeed.

Eventually, you drifted off to sleep, but it was a restless one that left you feeling worse when your alarm went off the next morning. You slapped it off and groaned, tearing off your covers before you realized that it was the weekend. You had planned to use the day to study and catch up on readings, but you decided that your GPA could handle you sleeping in for a little bit. Climbing back into bed, you closed your eyes and pulled the blanket tight around you, trying to get a little bit more rest.

By the time you made it out of bed, showered, and got dressed, it was early afternoon. Dressed in your comfiest leggings, sweater, jacket, and running shoes, you grabbed your book bag and wallet before locking your dorm behind you. You needed to study today, and obsessing over a guy was not going to stop you.

The air was crisp but bright as you walked to your favourite coffee shop just off campus. It was a little windy, and you pushed hair out of your face as the breeze whipped it into your eyes. Taking refuge inside the shop, you blew onto your hands to warm them up as you walked up to the barista and placed your order. The shop was crowded, full of students cramming before exams, couples on coffee dates, and friends catching up. After receiving your drink and your sandwich, you were lucky to grab the last free table at the back of the shop, sitting down and spreading your notes onto the table.

Once you were comfortably positioned, with your notes covering the table just right, you began. Reading over notes and working on practice calculation sheets, you ate your lunch and enjoyed your coffee without paying any attention to the atmosphere around you. You didn’t even look up from your table until an hour had passed, and it was just your luck that when you did look up, you made eye contact with Peter.

His hair was blown around his head wildly, his cheeks were flushed, and he was flexing his fingers to warm them up. Distracted by the realization that his hair was infuriatingly similar to how it looked when you ran your fingers through it last night, you almost didn’t notice the curly haired girl he walked in with.

Peter was laughing at something she said as he peeled off his jacket, and kept smiling as he ordered the two of them drinks at the counter. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that the smile froze on his face.

The girl with him followed his line of sight and made eye contact with you. Her gaze flickered between you and Peter for a moment before she whispered something to him. Peter whispered something back as he accepted the drinks the barista passed to him, and he passed the second to the girl.

You forced yourself to smile at the pair as they began to approach you.

“Y/N,” Peter gave a small wave. “Hey. How are you?”

“I’m—I’m good,” You nodded, fidgeting with your pen as you spoke. “How, um, how are you?”

“Good, good.” Peter mimicked your nodding, and kept mimicking it as you waited for him to introduce the girl with him.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “Peter?”

“Oh, right, yeah, uh, Y/N, this is my friend, Michelle. She’s visiting from Princeton for the weekend.” Peter gestured to the curly haired girl. “Michelle, this is Y/N, my, um—”

“Fake girlfriend who you revealed your biggest secret to and then banged, right,” Michelle sat down in a chair across from you and motioned for Peter to do the same. “You can call me MJ.”

Peter’s eyes widened dramatically, as did your own, and your mouth dropped open so fast you were surprised it didn’t make a noise.

“Parker, oh my god, what the fuck?” You asked, burying your face in your hands. “You told her?”

“No, no, I didn’t!” Peter’s head continued shaking frantically. “Okay, well, I—I told her about the secret thing and the fake girlfriend thing, but I most definitely did not share the fact that we made—had sex.”

“You didn’t need to,” Michelle shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “When I knocked on your door this morning, you had post sex eyes.”

“Post sex eyes?” You questioned, curiosity getting the better of you.

“After Peter sleeps with someone, he gets this hazy look in his eyes, like he can’t focus on anything.” Michelle smirked. “He kind of looks high? It’s pretty entertaining, honestly.”

“I do not have ‘post sex eyes!’” Peter protested weakly.

MJ scoffed. “Peter, please. The morning after you lost your virginity, your eyes were so hazy that you couldn’t focus on anything. Two days later you told the girl you loved her and that you wanted to move to a farm upstate and raise puppies with her.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Two days?”

Peter blushed before glancing around the crowded coffee shop. “I—she was the first girl that ever sucked me off, okay? I was seventeen. It was an emotional moment.”

“That’s true, actually,” Michelle nodded. “You cried for days when she wasn’t very responsive to the farm and puppies idea.”

“Really?” You grinned before taking a sip of your drink. “Days?”

“How did you—? Ned told you, didn’t he?” Peter grimaced, sighing and sipping his drink.

“Oh yeah,” Michelle laughed. “I’m surprised Y/N is the first one outside of our group to find out you’re Spider-Man.”

“MJ, lower your voice!” Peter glanced around again. “Jesus!”

“Okay, well, as much as I’ve loved hearing about Parker’s embarrassing sexual escapades,” You began gathering up your notes. “I have a lab report to finish. See you in Biology, Parker. And it was really nice meeting you, Michelle.”

You stood up and slipped your bag over your shoulder before finishing off your drink. Peter nodded at you as a goodbye, but Michelle stood up as well, her drink still in her hand.

“Hey, Y/N, can I…?” Michelle motioned to the drink station with her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes. You nodded and followed her over to the counter where she opened a few sugar packets and began pouring them in her coffee.

“What’s up?” You asked curiously. You were aware of Peter watching the two of you, and his eyes on your back made you feel nervous.

“I just—I know I make fun of Peter a lot, right, but he’s, you know, he’s my best friend. And I know I don’t know you super—you seem great, really, but—Peter’s been through a lot.” Michelle toyed with the wrappers of the torn sugar packets. “I’m just…worried, you know? About how this whole…fake dating thing is going to affect him.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know you didn’t start that, but—Peter’s never known when to quit. He thinks he can make things right with everyone and protect everyone, and—and he can’t. It’s not possible.” Michelle stirred her coffee before adding more sugar. “He needs someone looking out for him just because it’s him, not because they feel obligated to.”

“I don’t…I’m not really sure what you’re trying to say,” You said slowly, confusion tinging your words.

Michelle sighed. “If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

You stared at Michelle, not sure of what to say. You watched as she stirred the coffee again and took a sip.

“Ugh, nasty.” Michelle wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Way too sweet. Sugar is gross, but whatever. I needed an excuse to talk to you. Anyways, see you around. Hopefully.”

You watched as Michelle turned around and walked back to the table. Peter’s eyes were still on you when he said something to her; you could only assume he was asking about what you two discussed.

Tossing your empty cup in the garbage, you turned around and left the coffee shop.

While the library usually provided you with a quiet place to work on assignments and think, it didn’t do much for you when you wanted to stop thinking. Michelle’s words kept running through your mind, an endless loop of concern that you couldn’t shut off.

You wanted to shut it off.

You knew she was right. Despite your efforts, you’d come to know Peter fairly well over the last month. You knew he would never quit anything if he could help it, especially if he thought he was protecting someone. But did he have anyone protecting him? Was there anyone who was watching his back? Anyone who was staying up at night, waiting for the text that would let them know that Peter was back in his dorm in one piece? Anyone who had a first-aid kit ready if the text came and he wasn’t?

“If you’re not here for Peter because you genuinely care about him…then maybe you shouldn’t be here for him at all.”

Did you genuinely care about him? He was a nuisance, sure, but a nuisance you seemed stuck with. It would be rude not to care about him (at least, that’s what you told yourself).

And the fact of the matter was that, even without the added drama of sleeping with a superhero, you had never been good at this part. The after. The facing of the consequences of a one night stand that you couldn’t get away from. The emotions.

You dropped your pen and pressed a hand to your forehead. Emotions should be the farthest thing from your mind when thinking about Peter. There were no emotions. There was annoyance and, after last night, lust. But nothing else. There couldn’t be anything else. You couldn’t let there be anything else.

But if there wasn’t anything else, then why was there an ache in your chest when you saw Peter enter the café with a girl? Why did the thought of him touching anyone else the way he had touched you the night before ignite a flame of envy in your stomach? Why were you over-analyzing every event of the last twenty-four hours like you were the defense lawyer in the trial of your mind versus your heart?

And why were you losing?

A tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. You jumped, dropping the pen you had been twirling around in your hand and looking up at the librarian standing over you.

“So sorry to bother you, hon, but I’m afraid we’re closing.” She smiled warmly down at you.

“Closing—? What time is it?” You said, a disbelieving frown forming on your face.

“About five to ten.” She smiled again. “You get back to your dorm safe, alright? Campus security is there to walk you if you need it.”

“Right. Thanks.” You gave a tired nod and began to pack your things up before you slipped your bag over your shoulder and exited the library.

When you reached the outside, you were halfway shocked to see that the librarian was right. It was pitch black, with barely a star in the sky visible through the clouds. You had wasted the entire afternoon and evening in the library, with nothing to show for it except more problems, more questions, a half finished lab report, and a headache.

Wind rustled the trees above you, whipping your hair into your face. You tightened your jacket around you and looked around in the darkness; with no moonlight and the path to your dorm running through the pitch black forest, you were contemplating walking back inside to get security when a voice from behind you spoke up.

“Need an escort?”

You turned around to see Peter leaning up against the pillars of the library, his hands tucked in his pockets and his jacket buttoned up to his neck. His hair, which was usually slicked back, was being blown into his eyes, and his mouth was turned up at the corners.

“No, it’s okay, I—I can get security. It’s fine.” You pushed your hair out of your face (unsuccessfully) and forced a smile. “Really.”

“You’d take some middle aged, balding security guy over an Avenger?” Peter raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well, the middle aged, balding security guy hasn’t seen me naked.” You huffed. “Look, Parker, can you drop the whole surveillance thing for one night? I just—I need some time to think, and—”

“Y/N.” The corners of Peter’s mouth settled into a straight line as he sighed. “I just want to make sure you get home safe. That’s it. I swear, I—I’m not going to try anything. We don’t even have to talk about it. But I—I can’t go back to my dorm if I don’t know you’re safe and sound in yours.”

You bit your lip. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to be murdered.”

Peter walked over to you and the two of you began making your way back to your residence building. It was about a fifteen minute walk, which meant that you ran through your small topics (the windy weather and the bio test next week) in about eighty-three seconds. After that, an awkward silence filled the air as you trekked down the path, with Peter being careful to keep a foot of distance between you at all times.

With five minutes to go, Peter broke the silence.

“Okay.” He kicked a rock down the path in front of you. “I know I said we don’t have to talk about it. But—but can we talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” You kept your gaze glued firmly on the darkness in front of you.

“Um. A lot.” Peter’s voice was short and clipped, like he was trying to maintain composure. “We had sex, Y/N. I think that kind of complicates the whole ‘hating each other’ thing we had going on.”

“And talking about it complicates it more.” You rubbed a hand over your tired eyes. “So let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Right. Right.” Peter nodded to himself as his voice hardened over. “Because it was just sex.”

“Right.”

“It meant nothing.”

“Exactly.”

“Just sex between two non-friends who are fake dating.”

“Now you’re getting it.” As you reached your building, you pulled out your key card from your backpack. “Thanks for the escort home.”

“Could I walk you up?” Peter gestured towards the door. “You know, make sure you make it in okay.”

“I, um, I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Parker.” You swiped your key card through the door and pulled it open. “Maybe we should just…call it a night.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. My bad.” Peter gave you a smile that looked more forced than it usually was. “Um, have a good sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, or around.” You nodded to Peter, trying your best not to meet his eyes.

“Or…around.” Peter echoed your words softly. You could feel his gaze glued to you.

You stepped into the building and closed the door behind you, sliding down it once it had clicked shut. The wood was cold against your back as you laid your head in your hands and pulled your knees to your chest.

Thoughts raced through your head, a million words flooding all at once, but only one came to your lips. One word that summed up everything that you were feeling.

“Fuck.”

{part v}

843 notes · View notes

writesaboutbangtan17 · 7 years ago

Text

the right bite | 01

vampire!minghao x reader fluff, angst, and (eventual) smut

16,180 words

a/n: sooo...here’s the vampire minghao fic...it is...very explicitly halloween-themed lol...but i changed the whole concept at the last minute n it’s taken me awhile to write...so here it is in early november instead of on halloween as promised. i’m sorry. it was hard for me to get into halloween this year :( so this is my love letter and “i’ll try harder next time” to my favorite holiday. part 2 has the smut! it’s almost done n will be out in a couple of days. enjoy!!!

~ in which you fall for some guy at some party without meaning to and soon discover he’s not exactly what he says he is...

Tues., October 31st, 2017 @ Kennedy South Residence Hall, 6:24 P.M.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that you’d been through a lot worse than this, and if history was any indicator, there was worse yet to come. But right here, right now, rolling around on your friend’s closet floor on the verge of tears—you decided this was the worst moment of your life.

Momo wasn’t of much help, of course, with all of her attention hyper-focused on her phone instead of anything you were up to. If you had only one chance to guess exactly what she was doing or be mauled to death by a bear, you'd bet your entire life that she was sexting Mina...and your suspicions were confirmed when you popped your head up out of the laundry pile you'd buried yourself beneath and caught sight of the "racy" picture that your friend was drooling over. A pout, a loose sweater, some sort of bedroom eyes. Gross.

"It's just her shoulder," you whined, "you've spent the better half of the last two years elbow deep in her front bottom and you're gonna bust a fucking nut over that?" Any other time Momo's glare would have split you in half, but after this long, exhausting month you'd had, you were impenetrable. It was a shame, really. You'd have preferred to melt under her gaze than live just one agonizing second longer.

And you couldn't believe you were feeling this low in October of all months. Sure, you'd had a few bad Marches and a shitty September or two, but you loved Halloween. You loved pumpkin spice everything and leaves falling and screaming at all the scares you knew were coming in movies you'd seen eighty times and running out of haunted houses—you lived for all that shit.

Leave it to some stupid boy to ruin your favorite time of the year.

They were always ruining everything. That's why you had, up until now, happily remained the one forever-single friend in the group.

"How dare you call my girlfriend's vagina a 'front bottom'?" was all she said, and she didn't even have the decency to admit it was ridiculous to get all hot and bothered over a selfie with some off-the-shoulder sweater action, let alone get off her ass and give you a hand trying to throw yet another costume together. You regretted helping her pack all of the boxes stacked up in the living room if this was how she was going to repay you.

Off her shoe rack, you grabbed a pair of knock-off Louboutin pumps and all you could think up in your wilted, dusty little brain was to dress up as a hooker. One of your friends had to have some sort of little metallic tube dress and faux fur jacket you could borrow, too. He’ll have to take me home tonight if I show up at the party with no underwear on, right?

"I can call my best friend's vagina whatever I want," you insisted, "do you think I could squeeze into these?" Finally, finally, Momo locked her phone and tossed it onto a pillow before coming over to kneel at your side. At last, she gave you a look filled with all the pity and shame that you deserved, and reached out to ruffle your hair in some sort of attempt at comfort.

In the softest, most tender voice she could manage, she reminded you, "No, Bigfoot, I'm like two shoe sizes smaller than you are." And with the moment effectively ruined and your mood suddenly five times worse, you dropped the shoes and threw the closest (softest) thing within reach right at her head. You didn’t even see what it was until she was trying to pull it off, only becoming more and more wrapped up in it. It was an ratty old black blanket with red lining—and there you had it, the lightbulb gone off over your head.

"Give me that!" You screeched, making frenzied grabs at the fabric. You pulled one way and Momo pulled another and if the gagging noises happening in there were any indication, you were pretty sure you were strangling her to death. She totally would have chokeslammed you when she was free of her fleece cocoon but you had that manic look in your eyes that meant trouble and she knew that one of you needed to remain calm. For once, it was her.

"I'll get the scissors and the fabric glue," she sighed before she disappeared out of the room and left you spreading the blanket out on the floor.

Thurs., October 5th, 2017 @ The Yard, 9:13 P.M.

"I can't see anything," Nayoung whined as she ran into yet another tree. The fourth, to be exact, since you’d all gotten out of her car. You'd seen her heading right for it, but out of tough love had just allowed the collision to happen before your very eyes.

"That's what you get for wanting to dress up as the three blind mice," you lectured her for the five thousandth time that night, "that shit's ableist." From her side, in a matching black dress and mouse ears and sunglasses, Minkyung flicked you off as she helped Nayoung pick leaves out of her perfectly styled red hair. The third blind mouse, Kyungwon, ran up from behind to smack you on the head with her walking stick.

"Fuck you! We look cute!" She cried indignantly when you ripped the walking stick out of her hand and threw it into the crowd. A painful yelp cut through the sound of "The Monster Mash" warbling out of speakers set up around the courtyard, and you relished in the fact that if that poor unintended victim of your frustration came looking for somebody to rip a new asshole for hitting him, his rage would be directed at one of these insufferable three.

They did look cute, but it didn't stop the concept from being any less…offensive. You, on the other hand, had gone the safe route and dressed up as Rosie the Riveter for the third Halloween season in a row. Even if you gained a few pounds over the holidays and through summer and the beginning of a new school year, all you needed to recreate the outfit was the same red bandana, a denim shirt from the thrift store, your trusty high waist jeans, and boots. It wasn't the cutest costume, or the sexiest, but it portrayed exactly what you wanted it to: you were an independent, strong woman who wasn't looking for a guy to ply her with booze and sneak her back to their dorm tonight.

Momo promised it would only attract girls, and all the women-loving-women you knew were taken for now—so you were safe. Being the forever-single friend in the group was a tough job to keep up, that was for sure, but someone had to do it. If you had to not waste money on a new costume and not have your boobs hanging out when the fall chill was coming in, then so be it. You would take one for the team.

"Where are the boys? Can you see them?" Minkyung tugged on your sleeve to ask you, and you reluctantly scanned the gyrating crowd of bodies for Seokmin and Mingyu—she and Kyungwon's boyfriends of the semester. You had only met them a few times before, when your friends dragged you out to the movies, refusing to let you spend a night in instead of being the thirteenth or fifteenth or seventeenth fucking wheel on their massive group dates. Catching sight of Seokmin and his smile by the drinks only reminded you of being introduced to him before the movie, and then having to sit through it trying to focus on the plot and the characters and the god awful dialogue instead of every one of your friends making out the whole time.

"They're over there," you pointed them out flippantly, and you were about to turn and head off in the opposite direction to find the rest of your friends when Minkyung latched onto your sleeve again and asked in a tiny voice,

"Can you take us over to them? I really can't see." You were too soft for she and Kyungwon, you knew it and they knew it and they were always using it to their advantage. Tough love wouldn’t work with them the way it worked with Nayoung, either, so you didn’t do what you should have: stolen her sunglasses and run off with them, not giving her an excuse to make you walk all eight yards or so over to their annoying boyfriends.

You didn’t know it yet, but it was over by their annoying boyfriends that your life was about to change forever—so it was pretty lucky that you’d somehow inherited two children over the course of the past year. You wouldn’t be thanking them any time soon, though. They were still juvenile, petulant little babies who had a whole lot of growing up to do.

Arm-and-arm with Minkyung, who grabbed Kyungwon to drag along behind the two of you, you made your way through the crowd. You passed Eunwoo and Hansol yucking it up, Yebin grinding with her not-a-fling-but-not-yet-girlfriend, Jihyo and Nayeon showing off their angel and devil costumes to Seungcheol and Jeonghan (Nayeon was the devil, of course.) Somewhere in the crowd, you were sure Momo and Mina were in the middle of a heated dance battle with another couple from their exclusive lesbian squad. They'd dressed up as the tap dancing girls emoji, which had been your idea, not that they'd give you the credit for it.

"Oh Y/N! I'm so happy to see you!" Minkyung sent you pleading eyes not to murder Seokmin right then and there as his screaming sent spittle flying all over your face. You didn’t, just for her. He threw his arms around your body to engulf you in a bear hug that only two people who had known each other for years, knew each other intimately and personally should share—he was a weird kid. Nice, super nice, but…too nice. Weird. Mingyu, on the other hand, went right by you to get to Kyungwon, which was much more normal and you didn’t mind at all. You’d only met them, what, twice? Three times?

You tried to shuck Seokmin's arms from around you in as friendly a way as possible, and Minkyung came to your rescue by squeezing in between the two of you and pushing her boyfriend away. Air rushed back into your lungs, free from being crushed by the lively boy, and next on your agenda was getting your hands some liquor—right there behind Kyungwon and Mingyu in a sudden liplock was the table endlessly full of glass bottles and juice to mask the alcohol with and red plastic cups.

There was a lot more vodka in your drink than the blue punch allowed you to taste, which was exactly what you were going for, and you were already feeling much more light and loose after you downed your first full cup. Had any of your friends been paying attention they might have stopped you from immediately pouring yourself another, but they were too busy with their significant others to pay you any mind—as always.

So you were a little bitter, how could you not be? You were a strong, independent woman, yes, but...kissing was kind of nice, at least from what you could remember of it. Admittedly, your romantic history was sparse. You'd gotten used to being single, it was just that seeing your friends in happy relationships made you wish you had someone's hand to hold and someone to show off a cute couple's costume with sometimes. Even bad single bitches were allowed to feel lonely every once in awhile.

"Hello there, are you alright?" And it was in that moment that the clouds parted, and God himself, should he truly exist, shone the light of the sun down on you—well that's what it felt like. It was the middle of the night. But when this new voice chimed in your ear and the sight of this handsome new face came into view, perhaps the stars twinkled a little brighter, excited just for you. This concerned stranger with golden skin that looked warm to the touch, large brown eyes, this darling round nose, and perfectly kissable petal pink lips had come at just the right moment.

"Oh, I-I'm fine?" Too bad your stupid mouth couldn't keep up with your brain and your heart that were screaming at you not to fuck this up! This was the Prince Charming you'd been waiting for, obviously. He was relieved to hear your answer, running a hand through his dyed bleach blonde hair and letting his pout relax into a grin.

"Good. It seemed that your mind had wandered off somewhere," he said. Belatedly, you noticed the pointed pearly white fangs he was wearing and the fake blood smeared across his chin, splattered onto the collar of the crisp white button-up he had on beneath a vest made of crushed red velvet. There was a pair of black slacks and shoes to compete the outfit, but what pulled it all together was the cape that he had draped over his shoulders, black lined with a rich, rosy red. You didn't miss the bat brooch pulling his collar together or the cross dangling from the ear, either.

It was a little embarrassing for you that a cliché, basic Dracula costume could seem so impressive just because it was on a man this beautiful. You weren't used to being reduced to nothing by college boys anymore.

"It...it did but...I'm back now," you explained, piecing the words together slowly, "I'm Y/N." The good-looking stranger's smile shifted again into something darker, the tips of his fangs peeking out from beneath his upper lip, as he took the hand you held out to him. When he lifted it to place a delicate kiss upon your knuckles, you didn't cringe the way you knew you would have had he been any other guy at this party.

"My name is Minghao," he offered. You repeated the name in your head a few times, then finally allowed yourself to taste it on your tongue,

"Hello, Minghao," and it tasted good. That was a name you could get used to saying, could get used to moaning underneath him in bed. The dirty thought gave your cheeks a pink tint that Minghao noticed straight away. He lowered your hand but instead of letting you go, moved to link your fingers with his.

"Would you like to dance with me?" There was no answer but yes, please, right now, f o r e v e r. He led you away from your friends, deeper into the crowd until you'd reached the exact middle of the yard, and "Disturbia" by Rihanna might as well have been a brilliant waltz with the way Minghao began to twirl and dip you down to the grass. Lucky for you that you were wearing your heavy boots instead of one of the pairs of break-your-neck heels that any of your friends had on with the way you tripped over and over again, but Minghao always scooped you back onto your feet and kept going.

It was strange, that was for sure. You should have felt embarrassed, and the two of you got your fair share of stiff stares and unkind chuckles thrown your way, but if Minghao didn't mind them than neither did you. It was just like a dream. He never took his eyes off of yours, and he never let go of your hand.

Well, not until, per standard stereotypical Halloween playlist rules, "Disturbia" faded out into "Thriller". Minghao immediately disengaged from you, grabbed you by your shoulders, and yelled over the opening sound effects, "Oh, shit, I've been waiting for this to come on all night! Stay right here, I've gotta find Chan!" Then he was sprinting through the crowd looking for this so-called Chan and leaving you behind.

Who...was that person? His name was Minghao, he was dressed as a vampire, and one second he was acting like a Victorian prince straight out of a an old English romance novel but the next he'd reverted right back to the average frat boy you knew he had to be. Still, you waited. At least his sudden shift in behavior was just to excitement and wonder instead of to that of some sleazy fuckboi trying to to get in your pants.

"It's close to miiidnight and something evil's lurking from the dark…" Michael Jackson was singing as Minghao returned with this short, bright-eyed boy, definitely a freshman, and the pair of them immediately stepped into choreography that there was no way they hadn't prepared beforehand. You honestly didn't know what to do or what to say, just stood with wide disbelieving eyes as they perfectly mirrored each other's moves, a tick of the head here and a two step there and thrusts all over the place.

And yet the most mystifying part was when Mingyu and Seokmin came jogging over and started dancing, followed by Hansol and Jeonghan and a few other guys from their frat. As shameless as ever, Nayeon threw herself into the mix, picking up on the moves quickly, and Minkyung and Kyungwon stood beside their boyfriends showing them what to do. It was like watching a scene from a cheesy 80's movie play out in real life—too bad you didn't fit into any of the cheesy 80's movie stereotypes.

The least surprising part was when Momo and Mina ran by you to join the fun, but as soon as they turned and saw you attempting to be nothing more than a peaceful spectator to this performance, Momo grabbed your hand to pull you in. "You know I can't dance," you hissed as Mina grabbed your arms to move into the right position, "God, this is why I hate you guys so much!"

"You're doing great," you heard Minghao say, and behind Momo there he was, but he was faced away from you pulling off the perfect moonwalk for the crowd. Holy shit, you hoped this was all just a weird dream, because if that wasn't the case you were going insane and imagining the voice of some guy you'd just fucking met in your head.

You let Mina and Momo puppet you through the whole routine, until the ending narration was echoing through the yard and they let you go. Before you could escape into one of the nearby houses to hide in the bathroom until you woke up, you felt the telltale tug of Minkyung grabbing your sleeve.

"Minnie, I really can't talk right now," you were saying as you turned around, "I've gotta get out of here, I think I've finally gone off the deep end and made up everything that's happened over the past twenty minutes in my—" She wasn't standing there alone. Seokmin was at her side, of course, so was Kyungwon, and Mingyu was coming up behind her with his arm thrown around Minghao's shoulders, the two laughing like old friends.

"Y/N! What did you think?" Minghao asked as they approached you, and he was so eager to hear your praise that you couldn't just duck out to make the getaway you so desperately wanted to.

"It was amazing," you said, and you meant it, even though your heart had been filled with dread and confusion and panic for much of it. And that's when he slammed the final nail down into your metaphorical coffin—the son of a bitch giggled. It was a twinkling sound, one that skipped into your ear and danced around while it embedded itself into your brain, swam through your bloodstream so that it could take a dip in your heart. He giggled and you were gone—gone for him.

"I know it was kind of silly," he said quietly, so that only you could hear, "but dancing is one my simpler pleasures." The shift back to the language and speaking rhythm of this classic gentleman you'd first met gave you whiplash. At a loss for words, you could only present a soft smile and nod, and let him take your hand back into his. From the corner of your eye, you saw Minkyung's jaw literally drop at the sight—now that you thought about it, she'd never really seen you flirting with or getting any attention from a guy, and especially hadn't seen you turn into complete and utter mush for one.

Just as she was lurching forward to grab you and demand answers, Minghao whispered, "Would you like to find some place quiet to talk?" into your ear, and he was whisking you away. One of the houses further from all of the action had a porch swing swaying lightly in the breeze that he led you to, and when you were finally alone you had so many questions that you wanted to ask him: Why did he talk like that? How did he know Mingyu? Did he make that Thriller choreography himself? Where did he learn how to waltz? Who was Chan? Why did he dress up as a vampire?

(He pulled it off, of course, but to settle for a default vampire was kind of lame. Minghao didn't seem lame.)

You didn't ask any of those questions, though. The two of you settled down onto the swing and he smiled down at you leaned against him and all you could say was, "You're an...interesting guy, Minghao."

"That's one way of putting it," he laughed, and then his laugh tapered off into a warm, pleasant silence. The swing rocked you back and forth and you might have fallen asleep if Minghao's presence alone didn't make you feel like you were at the end of a live wire, packed with all this energy that only wanted to direct itself into one action—kissing the hell out of him.

You considered for just a second that maybe he could read your mind when he bent down to bring his face closer to yours, but you quickly abandoned that thought so you could concentrate on only what was so physically him. He had one arm curled around your shoulder to pull you into his chest, and his other hand found its place resting on your thigh. Both of your own hands gripped tight onto the lush fabric of his vest, knuckles turned white with anticipation.

He was so close, and you let your eyes close just as his lips were about to touch yours...but at the last second, you felt a finger on your chin turning your head to the side, and his nose brushing along your collar. You'd never felt so much before like your heart was going to beat out of your chest as the tip of his nose traced a line along your collarbone from your chest to your shoulder, than back up your shoulder and your neck to your jugular.

With his nose and lips against your throat, Minghao inhaled as deeply as if he'd just come up after a trip to the bottom of the ocean for that first sweet breath of fresh air.

You didn't see it happen, didn't feel the swing move or feel his hands slipping from his hold on you—you must have been just that lost in your thoughts and the overwhelming bliss of the moment. One moment Minghao and you were nearly melded into one being beside each other, and the next he was on the opposite end of the porch, breathing as heavily as a marathon runner at the finish line.

It took a few blinks and steady breaths of your own to disconnect from what had just almost happened and come back to reality, but when you did and saw him gasping and clawing at the air for something to grip onto, you felt a physical ache in your chest. Why did he look so scared?

"Minghao, are you okay? What happened, what's wrong?" You were back on your feet hurrying over to him, but instead of letting you back him into the corner, Minghao hopped over the banister and landed gracefully back on the grass behind him.

"Did I...did I do something wrong?" You asked, because that's what it fucking seemed like if he couldn't so much as bear to be within two feet of you all of a sudden. He was backing up slowly, wiping his palms against his pockets, stammering and grasping for any words to explain himself to you. You would have run off of the porch to chase after him, but you had a strange feeling that the moment you turned your back, he'd disappear.

"No, of course not," he stressed, "you didn't do a single thing wrong. I just...I just, um...I remembered something really important and I have to leave. Now. Right now." You wanted to say that you couldn't believe it, but the pesky part of your brain that knew just how repulsive you could be to the opposite sex was singing I told you so! I told you so! You'd been trying to quiet it to control your nerves this whole time, but...well, it really had told you so.

"Please, don't look so sad," Minghao said before you even realized you were frowning and glowing red with embarrassment and there were potentially tears building at the corner of your eye, "it was really so special to meet you here tonight, Y/N. I mean it." And with that, he was gone, bolting around the house and into the dark instead of back towards the party.

The mocking chant in your head died down at once. There was something about Minghao, about the way he spoke. At least to you, it was clear when what he was saying was the truth or a lie. 'I remembered something really important and I have to leave right now,' was an obvious excuse for...something. But 'It was special to meet you tonight, I mean it'? You'd never heard anybody sound so honest before.

You untied your bandana from around your head to dab away your useless tears, and felt a steely resolve settle into your chest as you walked back to your friends and remembered: Kyungwon had mentioned another party that she was meeting Mingyu at tomorrow night. Maybe Minghao would be there, and you definitely would be, too.

Fri., October 6th, 2017 @ Green Heights Residential Complex, 3:46 P.M.

"I can't believe you're going to that party," Minkyung whined from where she was curled up on her couch, "that party that he's going to be at." You ignored her while you spooned the comfort ramen you'd rushed over to make for her into a few bowls for the two of you and Kyungwon, who was sitting on the counter speaking in hushed tones over the phone with Mingyu. The two of them couldn't go a single afternoon without drama.

"First of all, you broke up with him, so how is he the bad guy?" You asked as you set her helping down in front of her on the coffee table. She slid down onto the floor and immediately started slurping noodles into your mouth, not bothering to thank you or answer your very reasonable question. Which was fine, that was just how you knew that she knew you were right.

"Secondly, ex-boyfriend of yours or not, Seokmin is a decent dude. I'm not going to put him on some blacklist to avoid like the plague just because you decided you think he's gay or something," you continued. Minkyung huffed into her bowl, making the broth splatter over the rim and onto the table. Trained as you were, you reached over to wipe it up with your own napkin.

"You should have seen him with that Soonyoung guy!" You had seen him with 'that Soonyoung guy', whom he introduced to both of you as one of his best friends. They had gotten into an argument with each other about which one of them looked more handsome in their costumes, which you hadn't even realized were a pair before you saw them together—Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy. Seokmin thought the clam shell bra accentuated Soonyoung's figure—you knew because he'd said so approximately thirty times.

Soonyoung, for his part, gushed over how the blue latex of Seokmin's gloves really brought out the color of his brown eyes. They truly belonged together.

"Maybe they're just good friends?" You said, "Or maybe he's bisexual? Or pan? I don't know, Minkyung, but you made an assumption and I'm not gonna judge the guy based on your crazy ideas." You were leaning more towards him having an attraction to men than not. There was something about the way he'd slapped Soonyoung's ass at one point that seemed explicitly non-platonic.

"Last and most importantly," you concluded around a mouthful of chicken, "is that it's not his party and I'm not going for him."

"Then why are you going? You don't even like parties, you just go there to babysit us," Kyungwon made a good point as she came back into the room with her phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder and her bowl of ramen cradled safely in her arms. She dropped down onto the couch where Minkyung had been, throwing her legs into your lap, and waited expectantly for your answer.

You weren't going to give her one, of course, especially not with Mingyu on the phone since he and Minghao were apparently so chummy. All you could do was shrug and stuff your mouth full to avoid having to explain yourself.

"It's because of that guy! The one who started the Thriller dance!" Minkyung was hopping around on her toes at the realization, self-pity and irritation forgotten as she remembered seeing you disappear with Minghao. Somehow it had slipped her mind until just now, since she hadn't mentioned it at all once you returned to the party after he left. Actually, that had been around the time that Soonyoung made an appearance and ruined her night.

"What guy? Is she talking about Minghao?" You heard, just barely, from the speaker of Kyungwon's phone. The name sparked a light in her eyes that struck fear in your poor old heart. With reflexes you didn't even know you had, you managed to safely put your bowl down before flinging yourself on top of your friend, grabbing her phone, punching the red button that you knew would end her call, and throwing it behind you somewhere, anywhere away from her.

"Oh, my god," she didn't even care that you'd done all of that, and that was how you knew you were really in for it, "you're into Xu Minghao."

"Wait, the Chinese exchange guy? The astronomy major? That's who you were with last night?" It was unfair the way all those tidbits of information slapped you in the face and rendered you unable to make a hasty retreat while they all three were filed away in your brain. So far you knew all of this about Minghao: His last name was Xu, he was an astronomy major, he was from China, he could dance, and he talked funny. It didn't seem like enough to make your heart race the way it did any time you thought of that giggle or the feeling of his nose running along your collarbone.

"She was with him!? When!? What were they doing!?" The conversation went on around you, Minkyung explaining Minghao seeking your approval of his dance, the way you ran off together, and...the way you came back alone not too long later, and Minghao wasn't spotted again for the rest of the night.

"What was that all about?" She asked, settling down at the edge of the table in front of you and going into concerned guardian mode. It was rare that she did, and it always made you super uncomfortable to see her eyebrows knitted together that way and the worried frown against her cheeks.

"He ran off," you relented, "we were about to kiss and then, he just...I don't know. He got spooked and left." Minkyung sighed, taking your hand in hers and hooking an arm around your neck to bring you into a hug. Her cooing and awwing like you were a child was kind of annoying, but you appreciated that she cared about something that happened to you for once instead of all her own made up problems.

In contrast, Kyungwon laughed.

"So you're going to the party to show him what he missed out on," she decided, and you would have told her how dead-wrong she was, but your face was smooshed against Minkyung's chest and you couldn't get a word out, "I have just the costume for you to wear. He'll regret bailing on you like that."

Fri., October 6th, 2017 @ Delta Omega Delta House, 8:59 P.M.

As expected, you felt fucking ridiculous. Ridiculous, exposed, embarrassed, angry at Kyungwon (as always), angry at Minghao for starting all of this, angry at the world for letting Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time" happen in the first place. You'd walked into this building less than five minutes ago and already two guys had tugged on your pigtails, one of them had grabbed your ass beneath your tiny black skirt, and the wolf whistles were getting out of hand. Tonight you hated your life.

At least the guy who grabbed your ass had been shoved up against the wall and threatened by Mingyu. If you had to walk around a frat party like this, you were glad to have a big guy there to back you up, even though you were pretty sure he'd never actually hurt anybody. Maybe he'd punch someone for you if he had to, but he'd definitely cry about it afterwards.

"You look hot," Kyungwon said, "stop frowning like that." It was physically impossible for you to smile at a time like this, when it felt like everyone's eyes were on you judging the way you pudged out of the cropped white button-up knotted together just beneath your chest and the way you stumbled in the patent black pumps you'd been forced into. It kind of felt like you'd be telling your therapist about this night years from now, recalling the way all of your anxieties and fears had culminated in those one awful moment.

"Y/N?" And then, like a sun ray in the dark, Minghao was in front of you to make everything okay. You were frozen a few feet away from him, but Kyungwon assisted you with a violent shove from behind until you were tumbling into his arms. He scanned your face with hard eyes, taking immediate notice of your shallow breaths and the way your own eyes were glossed over. Twice in as many nights now that you'd almost cried in front of him—how humiliating.

Once he'd finished his assessment, he immediately righted you and brought you into the kitchen, out of the spotlight. There were still plenty of people there to gawk at you, but significantly less of them. Minghao grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, then ushered you into the corner of the counter so that he could stand in front of you and shield you from your audience.

"Breathe, love," he instructed you, "deep, steady breaths. Don't be frightened." He was petting your hair back out of your face, cupping your cheeks in his hands after he handed you the bottle of water. You held it to your chest, and it was freezing to the touch but at least you could focus on that instead of the black closing in around your eyes. With the guidance of Minghao's gentle touches and his firm voice, you were anchored back to reality and found your way out of the fog of panic.

"Take a drink," he suggested, and you gulped down half the bottle. The whirring in your ears died down to become the bass of whatever song was playing in the background, the dull roar of party-goers’ conversations happening all around you. You realized no one was looking at you anymore, and it occurred to you that most of the stares had probably been because you were having an anxiety attack in the middle of a frat party—you felt so stupid.

Minghao was having none of that—"You're not stupid," he said, "you were just scared, but it's over now. I've got you." Had you said that out loud? You must have. You relaxed with his words. Another thing to add to the list of things that you knew about Xu Minghao: he was the calm in the storm.

As reassured as you felt, a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as it sunk in: you'd just almost had an anxiety attack. In the middle of a frat party. In front of Minghao. And he had to ease you out of it...so much for looking sexy and making him regret leaving you alone last night.

The suffocating feeling that you were going to die was gone, only to be replaced by mortification. It was like when Minkyung comforted you, but so much worse—it only happened because you were so weak and pitiful. But at least the shame wasn't debilitating, and you were able to squeeze out of the tiny space Minghao had put you in and get away from him.

"Uh," you started, with no idea what you wanted to say, making it up as you went, "thanks. For that. I should...I should go." There was a part of you that hoped Minghao felt like you had felt when he abandoned you last night, and then there was the larger part of you that figured he was relieved he wouldn't have to handle a girl on the verge of a mental breakdown for the rest of the night and could just enjoy the party. The look on his face as you walked away didn't give away which of those inclinations were true.

"I'll walk you to the door," was all he said, and he did just that. Mingyu perked up when he saw the two of you come out of the kitchen together, pointing you out to Kyungwon, but she recognized the look on your face and felt her heart sink. The couple was coming up behind you as Minghao opened the door to let you out, and Mingyu was complaining about having to leave already before Kyungwon elbowed him in the gut to shut him up.

"Get home, then," Minghao sighed against your forehead when he leaned down to press a gentle kiss there, "sleep well." You didn't say thank you, you didn't say goodbye, you just turned on your heel and rushed down the steps towards Mingyu's car so that Minghao wouldn't see you start to cry.

Why were you crying now? You couldn't decide if it was because you'd blown it with Minghao or because you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone at the party or because your feet fucking hurt in these shoes. Maybe it was because it'd been a long time since someone was that sweet to you, but he didn't even ask you to stay. He seemed pretty eager to get you out the door.

Mingyu didn't say anything when you were dropped off outside of your apartment building, letting Kyungwon do all the talking. She wouldn’t stop apologizing for putting you in that situation and making you uncomfortable, and that only made you feel worse. You were just about to wave her off so they could get back to the party, climb up into your apartment and stew in your self-pity, when she added, "But he's totally into you, you know that, right? Oh my God, that look on his face when he first saw you."

You hated her. You hated her so, so much for making you hopeful. You hated her for reminding you that there was another party the next night. You hated her for telling you she had an idea for a different costume—something cute, not alienating and crippling like this one. You hated her for making you promise that you'd be there for her to pick you up at 6 so that you could get ready with her tomorrow. You hated her.

Sat., October 7th, 2017 @ Club Nebula, 10:07 P.M.

"I don't think he's here," you said, again, for the thousandth time. Minkyung glared at you over her shoulder, then turned around fully to fix the cat ears tucked into your hair when she noticed they were askew.

"I know he's here, Y/N," Kyungwon said from ahead of you both, "Mingyu came here with him." It was a wonder you could hear her over the mix-up of "Despacito" and "Ghostbusters" blaring through the packed little club, but when you did you could only wonder why she didn't text and ask where he was, then. The three of you had been wandering around looking for them for the past half hour. Admittedly, you'd stopped to get drinks and dance a few times, if the music moved you.

You were back to your normal self—you couldn't for the life of you understand what the fuck had happened last night. Realistically, you knew there was no reason for you to overreact like that. Your brain was just doing it's own thing, as usual.

In your little black babydoll dress, cat ears, lace choker with the bell, and whiskers and pretty pink nose painted onto your face, you felt much more relaxed. Although your hope that he was even there was dwindling, you hoped you could fix whatever it was you had with Minghao. You'd promise that you didn't normally freak out like you had, because you didn't. You were always the one who had to be cool under pressure. And in this fantasy, he'd accept that as fact. He wouldn't bail and the two of you would bone tonight.

A girl could dream.

"Oh, there's Mingyu!" There he was indeed—it was a wonder you hadn't been able to find him this whole time with the way his head on top of his freakishly tall body stuck out above the crowd. You made your over to him at a booth in the corner, where he was stationed with some of your other friends. There was Hansol and Eunwoo wrapped up in each other, and Nayeon thrown across Jeonghan's lap, but no Minghao in sight.

There was, however, a very pale Seokmin whose wide-eyed gaze was stuck on Minkyung. She hadn't noticed him yet, as she poked Mingyu in the chest and demanded to know where his Chinese friend was.

"I dunno, I told him you guys were here and he went to dance," Mingyu shrugged, but sent a sympathetic look over her shoulder at you. You looked away, redirecting your gaze back to the mass of bodies you'd just powered your way through. "The Monster Mash" was playing—now that you thought about it, it had been playing when you got to the party last night, too. A third time around, you didn't enjoy it any more than before.

"I'll go find him," you told Kyungwon, putting your brave face on, and reentering the swarm of sweaty, smelly ghosts and Pennywises and slutty nurses and Donald Trumps. You encountered plenty of cats along the way, too, but no "...Baby One More Time" era Britney Spears costumes. There weren't any Rosie the Riveters, either.

"Here, k-kitty kitty," you heard at the same time as you felt someone tug on the tail that Kyungwon had stuck onto your skirt. You would have slapped him, or at the very least smacked his hand away—but when you saw the guy, you just felt bad for him. He wasn't bad looking at all, but he was wearing a bright yellow sweater, dark denim overalls, and a yellow beanie with blue goggles glued onto it. The poor son of a bitch was dressed as a minion.

"Wanna dance?" He was also very, very drunk, stumbling on his feet, nearly ending up on the floor a few times in just the thirty seconds you'd been watching him. You grabbed the beer out of his hand and chucked it into a nearby trash can, then got an arm around his shoulders to take him over to sit.

"What's your name, dude?" You asked once you'd gotten him out of the crowd, and through a boxy smile he told you, "I-I'm...hic...Kim Tae-Taehyung." Taehyung flopped down into the chair you found for him, then made grabby hands at you as you backed away from him.

"Nooo, stay with me," he begged, but your sights were already back on the club's horizon, scanning for that familiar head of bleach blonde hair.

"Stay right here until one of your friends finds you, alright? No more beer," you told him, "promise no more beer and I'll give you my number." He slurred out the promise faster than any normal drunk person should have been able to speak, and you rewarded him with a fake number scribbled down onto the palm of his hand. He was cute, but he was a mess. Not to mention you had already accidentally fallen head-over-heels for some other guy you barely knew. There was no time or space or energy in you for Kim Taehyung.

It was only two steps back into the masses before you saw it. She was sitting at the bar with her pretty caramel-colored hair curled out of her face, her pom-poms forgotten on the counter top beside her drink, her tiny cheer skirt spread across legs split for Minghao to nestle himself in between. You could tell it was him thanks to the black cape hanging off his shoulders and the velvet vest and the telltale blonde hair—not because you could see his face.

No, his face was buried in the crook of her neck doing God know's what to get her making that expression, eyes screwed shut and jaw hanging slack and all. You looked away before you could decide whether he was kissing or licking or biting, before you could see exactly where his hands were. Bile bubbled up in your throat, tasting like the buttery nipple you'd thrown back with the girls when you first got here.

The girls. Kyungwon. You would end her. You desperately wished she had never brought you here, had never given you false hope. You wished that you could go back in time and stay curled up in your bed feeling sorry for yourself instead of getting all dolled up again and making the drive downtown.

"I'll take you up on that dance, actually," you blurted out as you stalked back over to Taehyung, because fuck Minghao. Okay, so he wasn't your boyfriend. He wasn't even your friend, really. But what gave him the right to go fooling around with other girls when he didn't even know you were there and had no accountability towards you? What a piece of shit.

So you danced with Taehyung, who miraculously managed to stay on his feet the whole time, and tried very hard to ignore the fact that he was dressed up as a minion. At some point, you "accidentally" knocked the yellow goggled beanie off of his head, which made it a little bit easier. And he was a good dancer, even if he couldn't keep his mouth shut for a full sixty seconds.

"I was...was ssseven-years-old when my h-hamster escaped and...and got eaten by a ssstray c-cat," he informed you as he ground his dick against your ass, "that was the day I...hic...I truly learned about life 'nd death." You nodded if only so that he wouldn't ask ten times in a row if you were actually listening to him, as you'd learned he would do without any acknowledgement.

"That's great, Taehyung," you monotoned at him, turning to wrap your arms around his neck and grind against his front. He could barely talk, but the guy could body roll like a pro. Over his shoulder, you saw that Minghao and his mystery girl were long gone. It had been over a dozen songs since you and Taehyung started dancing, after all. Apparently that girl was worth taking home, you snarked instead of letting yourself feel self-conscious about it.

Of course, it wasn't just that simple to not feel self-conscious about it. What did she have that you didn't? Well, perfect hair, for one. And probably decent mental health, for another. Only a girl with decent mental health could have hair that well-styled and maintained.

"Hey," you leaned forward to say close to Taehyung so that he could actually hear you, interrupting his story about the day his sister got his first period and he learned about womanhood or something, "can we kiss now?" You figured it would distract you, and drunk or not, with a face as pretty as his, you figured Taehyung had to be a good kisser.

He didn't need to be asked twice, he barely even needed a moment to register the question before he attached his lips to yours. They were soft, that was for sure, if a little chapped. And his kiss was kind of...slimy. Then again, it had been awhile since you properly kissed somebody, so maybe you'd forgotten exactly what a kiss was supposed to feel like (you didn't think so, but you were willing to give Taehyung the benefit of the doubt).

But it just felt wrong. Kissing anybody but Minghao felt like a betrayal to your own heart, which was screaming at you to leave this club and find that asshole wherever he was and hand over the lips that were rightfully his.

Your brain rebelled at the thought—your lips weren't Minghao's. Your heart wasn't Minghao's, your soul wasn't Minghao's. He was some guy that you'd literally met barely 48 hours ago and there was absolutely no reason you should feel so hopelessly attached to him.

So you kissed Taehyung harder and tried to forget about everything else. Maybe if you cocked your head just so, teased a little tongue, ran your fingers through his hair, this would feel halfway nice? Maybe you could let him consume you and make the world melt away the way that Minghao had when he was barely even touching you?

"You taste like...salmon," Taehyung informed you the moment you had to break away for air, and yeah, this just wasn't gonna work. One grumbled curse under your breath and Uber request later, the two of you were spread out in the back of a Prius desperately trying not to throw up on this poor guy's floor. He kept nervously glancing at you in his rear view mirror, ready to pull over and drag you out of his car at less than a moment's notice.

"You're a nice guy, Taehyung," you told him as he leaned against your shoulder, every once in a while letting his eyelashes flutter in an attempt to stay awake, "and you're really hot. Sorry I'm just not into you like that."

"H-Hey, there's...there's a back road up there onnn...the left. It'll make the...hic...the drive like five minutes shorter," Taehyung said to the driver. You were substantially less drunk than he was, and figured you should get him home safe and sound before you, "and as for...as for you. Th-That's...okay. 'm not sssuper into g-girls...hic...a-anyways."

You didn't feel guilty leaving him dumped out on his driveway after that. To be fair, you didn't take off until you'd pounded on the door enough to wake up his roommate to let him know Taehyung was there, and you left him your real number. He really was a good guy. You figured he'd make a pretty good friend after you tore him a new asshole for fucking around with girls heads like that.

Not that you were any better using him to try and distract yourself from Minghao but...he didn't ever have to know about that.

[1:03 A.M.] Unknown: heu

[1:03 A.M.] Unknown: heu?

[1:03 A.M.] Unknown: heu heu heu. Y/N

[1:04 A.M.] You: stop texting me taehyung

[1:04 A.M.] Dumbass: jsut wanted too say thhnaks

[1:06 A.M.] Dumbass: heu................................................who ws that gyu u kTOE starring st........................teh one at the b ar......wsa he ur ex r sehtm,thin...............is taht wyh you sa id u wr;ent into em

Shutting your phone off was almost cathartic. With the go-ahead from your driver, you rolled your windows down and smelled the garbage piled up underneath the highway and even this shitty moment was better than any moment back at the club or any moment you might have spent explaining who Minghao was to Taehyung.

You decided you would forget the last few days ever happened. The dumb lace choker, well that was Kyungwon's, so you dropped it into your purse after you unlatched it from around your neck. When you did that, you saw the wet naps littered at the bottom of your bag, and used those to wipe off the ridiculous whiskers and nose painted across your face. The annoying ears and tail, well those you'd bought at the dollar store today for two bucks and change. With absolutely no concern for the world around you, you flung them both out the window (you'd feel bad about that later).

Clearly, the last three nights had been some sort of glitch in your timeline. All you had to do to right the world's axis was return to your normal routine tomorrow morning and convince your friends to let all of this Minghao nonsense go—easy enough. Back to being the bad ass single bitch it was, then.

Thurs., October 12th, 2017 @ the corner of South and Porter, 8:26 P.M.

"Get out of my car," Taehyung repeated himself for the eighth time (you were counting). Said car was off, and you were tucked comfortably into the passenger's seat. Taehyung had already gotten out and was leaned in where you'd left the window wide open on your side, thinking of all the ways that he could kill you right now...there were probably a dozen ways he could end it with nothing but the keys in his hands and some patience.

You'd deserve it. When he asked you to meet up for coffee a couple of days after your failed make out at the club, he probably hadn't expected for the sad single girl to latch onto him like you had. What could you say—you were going through a strange time in your life. You'd never felt quite this way before, so torn up over a guy for no particular reason.

And Taehyung, bless him, was kind enough to go on with whatever you needed at any given moment. Sunday morning you'd told him that you wanted to put everything Minghao-related of the weekend far behind you and move on, and after forcing a thorough explanation out of you, he was on board. When you sent an early morning text on Monday recanting all of your previous statements about forgetting Minghao, he was fine with that, too.

He'd never known someone who could change their mind as many times and as quickly as you did, though, and keeping up with whether or not he had to be pro or anti-Minghao at any given moment was proving to be difficult. Just a half hour ago when he picked you up to bring you to this party, you'd been deadset on finding Minghao and hashing things out with him, but now you'd anchored yourself to his passengers seat and currently stood at never wanting to see Minghao's beautiful stupid face every again.

At least that's what he thought you were trying to convey to him with your wild hand gestures and angry groans behind lips sealed tight. If he'd known you were planning on dressing up as a mime (so that you'd have an excuse not to talk to Minghao if and when you changed your mind about wanting to hash things out!), he never would have agreed to come along with you.

He had no other choice than to put the muscles that Jungkook—one of his roommates, you'd learned—had cultivated in his arms and legs to good use dragging you out of the car by force. Because he was Taehyung, he was especially careful not to scratch you against the metal or bump your head on the door as he did so. This friend you'd known for less than a week was so much nicer to you than the ones you'd known for years.

Momo and Mina were jealous of him already, mostly because they lived in your fucking head and just knew there was something Taehyung knew about you that they didn't. That's why they'd suggested you bring him along. Unbeknownst to either of you, he was soon to get the third degree from the most aggressive of lesbian power couples.

But for now things were relatively pleasant. Taehyung liked skinship, apparently, and was happy to platonically hold your hand as the two of you approached the house—Jackson Wang's place, you were pretty sure. You didn't know him that well, he was a friend of a friend of a friend of Momo's, but you did know that he was a nice guy who everybody liked and who liked everybody right back, so you weren't worried about showing up uninvited to his party.

Evidently Taehyung was also really good at forgiving and forgetting, since the car hostage incident from less than two whole minutes ago was already far from his mind. "Jackson's a Chinese exchange student, too, so Minghao will definitely be here," he told you, "ready for that?"

You sent him a thumbs-up just as the door swung open and the man, the myth, the legend Jackson Wang himself, welcomed you inside. For being someone so well-liked, the obnoxious stripper cop costume he had on really caught you off-guard, but at least he had the pecs and the abs to back it up.

"Make yourself at home, guys," he said without even getting your names, already half-swallowed whole by the horde of dancers in his living room again, "please don't fuck in my bed, though."

Jackson was already gone, but just for you, Taehyung wiggled his eyebrows and purred, "I can't make any promises."

Of all four things to do—get a drink, start dancing, head outside to smoke, or get in line for the beer pong tournament going on in the basement—Taehyung chose beer pong. "The Monster Mash" started in the living room just as you closed the door to the basement behind you and you thanked God for the dodged bullet. Once this Hell month was over, you'd do everything in your power to make sure you never heard that song again.

There were way too many people shoved into the room and too few of them that you knew, so you stayed glued to Taehyung's side as he waited. When he asked if you were going to be his partner, you shook your head frantically—there was absolutely no way that was happening. And when he asked why, you demonstrated 'why' for him by grabbing a beer cap off the floor and trying to throw it into the trash can that was barely three feet away. It was unnatural the way it flew right out of your hand and backwards, hitting whoever was standing behind you in the face.

You turned around with every intention of apologizing, truly, but as luck would have it your latest victim was none other than Minghao, rubbing the tip of his nose gently over the saddest pout on his lips. Mingyu was bent down next to him, picking up the bottle cap and looking up with venomous rage.

"Why would you throw this at---oh! Y/N! What's up what are you doing here? Who's this?" Rather than let you answer any of his questions, Mingyu held out a hand to introduce himself to Taehyung. You hadn't known Taehyung very long, but you'd already learned enough about him to know that he was somebody who instantly became everybody's best friend. Mingyu liked him immediately, you could tell by the bro-hug.

"Wait, do you live with Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes lit up at the mention of his roommate, one who he had spent hours gassing up to you already in the less than a week you'd been friends, and he replied, "Yeah! He's one of my best friends!" Up to that point you'd kept yourself focused on Mingyu and Taehyung, pointedly ignoring Minghao who didn't bother saying anything to you, either, but it was kind of hard to keep ignoring him when Mingyu brought him directly into the conversation.

"Minghao! Taehyung lives with Jungkook! You just hung out with him yesterday, didn't you? Playing games at that internet cafe," Mingyu nudged his friend to speak up, and the word slithered out of Minghao's mouth much more quietly and with much less enthusiasm than Mingyu had,

"Yes." That was all he said, too. The other boys waited a beat longer for him to expand upon that, but Minghao stared back at them blankly until they continued their conversation without him. For what it was worth, Taehyung squeezed your hand that he was still holding as acknowledgement after hearing Minghao's name. You squeezed back to confirm—yes, this quiet, weird, handsome guy dressed up as a vampire was the Minghao.

"Hey lovebirds, you're up," someone announced as they tapped your shoulder, and Taehyung finally let go of you and wrapped up with Mingyu so that he could turn to the group amassed to watch and ask who would be his partner. Some guy with blue hair stumbled forward, "I'm only doing this because I can't find anymore beer in the kitchen," and the round began.

The new guy's name was Yoongi. He didn't offer that up on his own, no, Taehyung had to squeeze it out of him, and after that he didn't say much. The two guys on the opposite end of the table, who'd won their past four games, were apparently named Yugyeom and 'BamBam.' They easily got their first ball in, and Yoongi was happy to drink the first half cup of beer. When it was their turn and Taehyung stepped up to take the shot, Yoongi grabbed his wrist before he could.

"I was a basketball player in high school," he said coolly, "watch how it's done." It would have been funny if it wasn't so sad—Yoongi bent his knees to crouch down eye-level with the cups, lifted his hand to toss it towards the middle of the table, obviously going for a bounce shot...but the ball just fell once and rolled away. There were few times you'd ever seen a man look so devastated in your life.

"It's okay, Yoongs! We'll get it next time!" Taehyung encouraged him.

"Call me 'Yoongs' again and I'll rip your balls off," Yoongi warned.

"So Y/N," Mingyu popped up beside you as the game went on, "how do you know Taehyung?" You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking for a moment on his motives. He was Kyungwon's boyfriend and he knew that you had a weird thing going on with Minghao, but Minghao was one of his friends. Whose side was he on? And then you were mentally backtracking because there weren't sides, of course. No one had done anything wrong, you, least of all.

Relief flushed over you as you remembered—your costume. You were a mime. You didn't have to say anything. With an exaggerated sweep of your arm, you directed Mingyu's attention to your outfit. He might have recognized the black-and-white striped top as his girlfriend's, and the suspenders holding up your black jeans were Momo's. Mina had offered up the black beret on your head and done your makeup, too.

"Okay, so you're not gonna talk," Mingyu deduced, "have you known him a long time?" You shook your head. "Weeks or months?" You shook your head. "Days?" Nod. Behind Mingyu, you heard Minghao scoff and tried to temper the simmering ire in your belly at the audacity.

"Wait—is he the minion you went home with?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him in a poor imitation of the way Taehyung had earlier. When he did it, it was funny, obviously a joke. When you did it, it just seemed creepy.

"Excuse me? And when was this?" Minghao elbowed himself in front of Mingyu to ask, and Mingyu was shoving Minghao back to the side demanding to know, "Did you sleep with him? Is he even straight?" As it was, whether or not you slept with Taehyung and whenever it might have happened was none of their business. You shrugged and pulled your fingers across the seam of your lips to indicate zipping them closed.

"I won't play this game, Y/N," Minghao scolded you like your father would have, "what evening did you go home with this 'Taehyung' and—" Before he could complete his intrusive question, two groans rang out in harmony across the pong table and Taehyung was screaming at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down in place. Even Yoongi was smirking some, watching Yugyeom pluck a ball out from one of their cups and chugging the lukewarm beer.

Which was kind of gross. You were doubly glad you hadn’t played if these neanderthals were going to play the rules so literally.

"Y/N! Did you see that!" Taehyung cried, whirling around to face you, and when you held out a hand for a high five, he scooped you into a hug, instead. You could feel the heat of Minghao's stare on your back.

"Don't look now," Taehyung whispered into your ear, "but I think lover boy is about to combust. Wanna give him a show?" The next fifteen minutes went exactly according to your unspoken plan: once Taehyung made the first strike, he and Yoongi crushed the other team. Every time Taehyung landed a shot, after you'd properly overdone your applause, he would demand another hug or a kiss on the cheek, and every time you got close enough to him, he would explain how much angrier Minghao looked.

When Yugyeom and Bambam had one cup left, Taehyung beckoned you closer before he made his final shot. "I want a kiss for good luck," he pouted, but when you went to give him another kiss on the cheek, he leaned away.

"Nope, that's not what I meant," he giggled. Any one of the other girls in this room would have jumped at the chance to lay one on Kim Taehyung right now—you could see some of them tense, watching closely, at the ready in case you denied his request. They would get that opportunity, you thought, because you'd have to tell him no. The only other option was to kiss him and feel your own heart and brain fighting against you the whole time.

Not to mention, you could physically feel Minghao's warring emotions behind you as if they were your own. It was a dubious mix of wrath, shame, hurt. Whether he had any sort of romantic interest in you or not, it was upsetting to watch you show off with Taehyung in front of him. He wasn't stupid. He knew that you were doing this to get back at him, he just didn't know exactly what for.

You opened your mouth to speak your first word of the night, a firm "No," but then Taehyung was pressing the tiny plastic ball in his fingers against your lips. "I meant for the ball, dumbie," he laughed, making a quick save. At ease, you gave the ball a peck and stepped back to give Taehyung room.

The room was silent as he came to the edge of the table, closed one eye and bit his lip in deep concentration—but you only heard the cheers from halfway up the stairs as you were dragged out of there. You were presented with the sight of a half-naked Jackson leading a conga line when Minghao threw the basement door open, and it was going right by, closing you in between the door and Minghao's back.

You tapped his shoulder once, twice, three times, over and over and over again waiting for him to turn and explain himself to you, but he was just as silent as you'd been all night. You knew...you knew that you should have felt the anger, the indignation. And you could sense it coming from Minghao, but as you pressed your head against his shoulder blade and breathed in his scent—earthy, but scorched like firewood—any thoughts of revenge and resentment were silenced. Your heart was calm.

Finally the conga line passed, and more slowly, you followed Minghao out into the backyard where it was quiet. A few party-goers were passing around a blunt by a bonfire further out, but you and Minghao just settled down onto the steps. You watched him closely, watched the way he flexed his fingers against each other and worried his brow, searching for the right words to express whatever it was he wanted to tell you. When he couldn't come up with anything, he let out the breath he'd been holding all night, shrugged, and leaned back against the wall. Defeated.

"You don't have to be jealous," you spoke for the first time, and Minghao looked over at you with large disbelieving eyes, "Taehyung's mostly gay." Another moment of silence passed as you watched Minghao process this information. He open and closed his mouth a few times, as if he was answering his own questions in his head before he could ask them of you.

"We didn't sleep together, either," you filled in the blanks, and finally watched the tension flush out of his body with the way his shoulders dropped and his forehead smoothed. There it was again—that giggle that made your heart thump harder against your ribcage. Seven days since you'd heard that giggle were seven days too long.

"I wasn't jealous," Minghao lied after he cleared his throat and fixed his expression back into something blank and unreadable, "there's nothing to be jealous of. You aren't my beloved, nor am I yours." But you are. I wish I was. You couldn’t bring yourself to say as much.

Still. Here Minghao was at your side, talking to you, not running away or encouraging distance between the two of you. He was smiling and he didn't move when you leaned your head against his shoulder.

Tonight, this was enough.

Fri., October 13th, 2017 @ A Big Rock in the Middle of Woods, 11 P.M.

You liked to drink, of course. Liquor was just so good at taking the edge off or helping ease the stress of a bad day. That being said, you didn't make a habit out of getting drunk, not anymore at least. A few times blacking out and waking up in a puddle of your own puke on the floor had turned you off to that long before you turned 21.

What made tonight any different you weren't sure, but that party back there had been so boring. Momo and Mina tried to convince you not to go, and you knew that none of your friends would be there, but you'd still held out hope that Minghao would make an appearance. You'd even felt particularly good about your costume—a dark red top that you'd yellow-duck-taped the Wonder Woman logo onto the chest of, a gold belt around your navy skirt to match the gold headband holding your hair back. You'd gone so far as to dig some silver star stickers from the bottom of a desk drawer to slap all over your skirt. You knew that you looked cute, and you wanted Minghao to know it, too.

He hadn't shown up. So you drowned out your rising anxieties about being at this party alone and the chance that maybe last night was your last night, maybe he had pulled off his greatest disappearance, maybe you'd never see him again—with some rum and cokes. And there was a lot more rum than coke in your cup at all times, and no one to stop you from drinking it.

You had no idea when or how you'd wandered into these woods, either. A very fuzzy memory of walking outside and seeing them across the street from the sorority house hung around at the edge of your thoughts but never cleared up well enough for you to remember why you'd gone into them. What you could remember very clearly, though, was putting your phone behind a fish tank inside because you didn't have any pockets and you wanted to dance...but never picking it back up.

Now all you could do was sit on this big rock until you sobered up or the sun rose and hope you didn't die. You weren't sure if it was lucky or very unfortunate that you were too inebriated to be properly scared, too. Sure, the fear was there, but subdued behind the sick beat you could hear in your head that made you just want to fucking dance. Then again, that beat might have been the pulsing of a killer headache building slowly.

The only thing that really bothered you was that you were cold. It was dark and predators could be lurking in any direction, but you just wanted a jacket. You wanted a jacket so bad that you were worried you might start crying again. You really didn't want to cry. You'd cried too much in the past week.

"You have such a way of getting yourself into trouble, silly girl," and even though your drunk brain was just imagining it, his voice warmed you from the inside out. Like a true crazy person, you replied out loud to Imaginary Minghao, "I like you...lot. You...'re...so nice. Ssso...warm."

"I like you a lot, too, darling," you imagined he'd say, "now hop up and let me lead the way out of here." There was no explaining how you found your way back to the road after that, or the car that was conveniently waiting to drive you home when you did, or how your phone was waiting on your bedside table in the morning even though you were absolutely certain you'd never set foot back in the sorority house. It woke you up playing "The Monster Mash."

You chalked it up to a lot of good fortune, and thought that maybe you'd had your phone on you all along. But the warmth settled into your chest all day—that couldn't be explained. Maybe Minghao wasn't as far away as you thought.

Sat., October 14th, 2017 @ Abandoned K-Mart Parking Lot, 9:53 P.M.

"There's nothing for us to run into out here," Nayoung sighed in relief as she climbed out of the back of Seungcheol's truck, slipping her trusty sunglasses on to once again complete the Three Blind Mice outfit. Kyungwon and Minkyung came out after her, but neither was giving up hold on the walking stick they were fighting over.

"There are parking blocks, actually," you pointed out, "bright yellow. Hard to trip over unless you're some asshole wearing sunglasses in the dark." Kyungwon got the upper hand just in time to raise the walking stick to hit you again, but Minkyung grabbed her arm to stop her. You heard a small "Remember what happened last time," and felt proud of the fear you instilled in their little hearts. That was how they'd ended up having to fight over just one of them, anyways.

"And you're not an asshole for carrying around an umbrella when it hasn't rained in like a month?"

"It's part of the costume," you held up your finger to shut her up before she could argue that the sunglasses and walking stick were just a part of her costume, as well, "and it's not ableist. Everybody uses umbrellas, bitch." Your umbrella was in service of being Mary Poppins—you'd had everything you needed for it in your own closet this time, too. A derby hat that you pinned big fake flowers too, the same white button-up that had once been part of the tragic Britney Spears costume, a red bow tie, a pleated black skirt, tights, and black kitten heels. It was a wholesome costume, and that was all you could ask for after some of the others you'd experienced so far this month.

"He did the mash! He did the mooonster mash..." you heard playing in the distance. You were ready for Halloween to be over at this point.

It wasn't in the best interest of your sanity, but the six of you—Jihyo and Mingyu included—made your way across the parking lot to the crowd of people closer to the abandoned store building. There were lights put up there, and on the roof, someone was setting up a few cameras, one in the middle and two at either corner. Momo and Mina were the ones fretting over the stereo, and didn't even notice you come up behind them until you snapped the bottom of their black leotards against their thighs.

"Y/N! You actually came!" Mina gushed, throwing her arms around you in a hurried hug while Momo stayed focused on the music. "I can't really talk right now. Minghao's around somewhere, though," and she winked. There was a tick of frustration in your head but you snuffed it out for now instead of pulling your phone out to text a bunch of angry face emojis and red sirens and exclamation points at Taehyung. It wasn't entirely his fault that he'd succumbed to their charms and given in during their interrogation—the two of them were very hard to say no to.

That was part of how you'd wound up here, at the site of their impromptu flash mob-esque dance party (inspired by Minghao’s little “Thriller” stunt at the party at The Yard.) They'd been begging you for days to take part in it, and after inevitably breaking you down, Momo had delighted in teaching you the dance they put together. It brought her a special sort of joy to see just how bad you were at the thing she did best.

The other reason you were here, of course, was because you knew that Minghao would show up. How could he pass on the chance to take part in some more mass synchronized choreography? Mina pointed somewhere behind you before getting back to work, and sure enough, in that direction you could see Minghao with his friends. As if on cue, he looked up and locked eyes with you.

It was a certain magnetism that brought you all the way across the parking lot, through the crowd, and straight to him. "Y/N, love," he cooed as soon as you were in earshot, "I'm so happy that you came." There was a burst of panic as you realized that you were surrounded by all of his friends and were about to be subject to their scrutiny, but as was becoming routine, Minghao took your hand in his and you felt immediately calmed.

"My friends are going to love you," Minghao said as he pulled you closer to them, "don't be nervous. Even if they don't, I'll make them." It was a promise to you and a secret threat towards them all at once, and you had no idea what he meant by that but you'd take it. One of his friends you recognized—the kid who started the Thriller dance with him. Minghao reminded you that his name was Chan before he came up behind him and kicked him right in the ass to get his attention.

"Hey, kid," he barked, "this is Y/N. Be nice." The first thing you noticed about Chan was that he was kind of short, and you remembered your immediate thought back at that first party that he must have been a freshman. The light in his eyes, the grasp he had on his will to live, reinforced that theory. It was impossible to look that alive after one full college semester.

"Y/N! Wow, I feel like I already know you. 'Hao hyung has talked about you so much and it's only been a couple of weeks. You are pretty," Chan immediately overshared, and then you got to watch him turn the cutest shade of pink and slap his hand over his mouth. Minghao, on the cooler side tonight, just rolled his eyes at him.

"Thanks, kid. You're pretty cute yourself," you told him. Chan only turned pinker. From behind him another guy jogged up, this one you didn't know, but he was almost as inhumanly beautiful as Minghao. He beamed down at you as he introduced himself,

"Y/N, I'm Jun. I'm Minghao's best friend." The accent gave him away, so much like Minghao's. He must have been one of his Chinese exchange friends. If he really was Minghao's best friend, you wanted to impress him, so you dug around deep into the dustiest recesses of your brain so that you could say,

"Nǐ hǎo, hěn gāoxìng rènshì nǐ."

Jun laughed. You weren't sure if your feelings should be hurt or you should feel victorious for getting some sort of positive reaction out of him. It had been years since you had taken a semester of Chinese Language, so of course your accent was a little rusty, but you didn't think you sounded that bad.

"No, don't look so sad!" Jun said, reaching forward to push the corners of your lips back up into a neutral state. If it was any other stranger there was no way they were getting their hands on you, but again—he was Minghao's best friend. You needed him to like you.

And Minghao, this wonderful lovely perfect boy you'd found, he pushed Jun's hands away for you. "No touching," he deadpanned. The way Minghao said it, it wasn't a joke. It was a rule. Jun raised them up in surrender, taking a full two steps back to put some room between you and himself.

"Soonyoungie's helping some of the kids over there," Jun cocked his head to the left, at a few of the boys in their group clumped up together to the side. Minghao gave him a short nod, a terse look that you couldn't exactly read—just something to get across that they were going to have a very serious talk later and Jun was probably going to come out of it grievously maimed.

"I'm sorry about him," Minghao said quietly as you walked towards his other friend, "He's normally alright. Has no couth, though. Too forward." For the first time since you'd met (not that it'd been long since then), Minghao looked...embarrassed. His lips were pursed, pulled tight at the edges, and the tips of his ears were red. God, he was so cute.

"It's okay. He's not that bad," and you meant it. You hadn't gotten enough out of him to make an appropriate judgement call, but he couldn't possibly be any more annoying than your own friends. You already dreaded the day that you had to properly introduce him to them. Momo and Mina would tear him apart. Minkyung and Kyungwon would probably call him "dad."

"Well there's only one more of them you have to meet," Minghao told you, "but he's...a lively one. Unique. Always starting little slapstick comedy bits and scaring people off before they realize he's just joking." That all sounded...new. Certainly not like any of your friends. But not...bad. Manageable, at the least.

"Minghao, thank God you're here! Joshua, he just. He just can't dance and I don't know what to do," came a voice from within the clump of boys, one that you distantly recognized from somewhere. You realized too late from where. The sight of him, those squished eyes and that bright pink hair and Seokmin glued to his side—you'd only met him once, but you'd have recognized Soonyoung anywhere. Minkyung had only made you look at every single picture she could find of him on social media when she stalked him the day after she broke things off with his extra special friend.

"I can do the backpack kid dance," the guy who must have been Joshua said, but who gave a shit, you were in the middle of a crisis here. One of Minghao's closest friends was Public Enemy Number One as far as Minkyung was concerned—if she you speaking to him from wherever she was lurking right now, she'd skin you alive.

Minghao was gently pushing you forward to him, giving you an encouraging smile, and you didn't know what to say to him. "That's—he's—Soonyoung is—but Seokmin, and Minkyung—I'm going to die," you sputtered. It just wasn't fair. Making a good first impression to Minghao's friends was an important piece of this puzzle, of cracking his code, of your scheme to make him love you, and it was going about as badly as it could at this point.

"Yes. Soonyoung is, but Seokmin and Minkyung, you're going to die," Soonyoung joked, and you knew it was good-natured but you really felt like your life was in danger. Seokmin, the big dumb idiot, was just staring at you wide-eyed and frozen and probably close to pissing his pants. Time stood still.

"'Hao, can your girlfriend dance?" Soonyoung asked all of the sudden, looking past you at him, but he didn't give him the chance to answer before he grabbed you and pulled you over to Joshua, positioning you between him and some other kid. You'd seen the other guy hanging out with Hansol and Eunwoo before...Seungkwan! Right, his name was Seungkwan. He was another nice but weird kid, so overdramatic, always trying to entertain.

"Never mind, I know you can't," Soonyoung said, "I saw you at The Yard. It's okay, Young Padawan. Let the master teach you." Minghao had already saved you so often in such little time, but back where you'd left him he was just smirking and shrugged, leaving you all on your own.

"Okay, everybody! From the top! 5, 6, 7, 8!" Momo had made you repeat the dance dozens of times until she was sure it was embedded into your brain, but in the moment, nothing came to you. There were too many things to do with your hands, T's and L's and antennas and crying motions and knocks. As for anything you were supposed to do with your feet—God help you.

Joshua actually seemed to be doing well. You were tempted to reach a leg over and trip him when he did some sort of...spin...kick...thing, but kept that desire bottled in. It wouldn't be very becoming of you to sabotage an innocent bystander to your failings just because he could do what you couldn't. You managed to do one or two moves here and there, but for the most part stood still while the others literally danced circles around you.

"That was...wow," Soonyoung said when they'd all finished, and pointedly wasn't looking in your eyes, "On second thought, Joshua, you're not that bad! Minghao, your girlfriend, she...help her." If looks could kill Soonyoung would have been six feet under already. You'd never seen a glare quite as cutting and fierce as Minghao's, and were suddenly sure that the glares he'd given you the other night with Taehyung were Glare Lites™.

Stumbling away from the others, you managed to mumble, "I'm not his girlfriend," before Minghao scooted you away to save you anymore shame. He looked pretty shameful, himself, kicking his feet into the ground in a rare display of bashfulness and uncertainty.

"I apologize for their behavior," Minghao sighed, playing with your fingers but unable to look you in the eye, "they're not usually like this. Soonyoung is typically much more agreeable and light-hearted. I forget how he can be when he goes into Coach Kwon mode."

"Is he gay?" You really hadn't meant to say that out loud™especially not as obnoxiously as you did. You hoped Minghao knew you weren't asking because of any outdated gay stereotypes or anything, either. Just to be sure, you rambled on, "Just wondering. My friend Minkyung, she was dating Seokmin for a couple of months? But she broke up with him when she saw the way he acted with Soonyoung at The Yard and like. Have you seen them? They seem pretty into each other. I dunno, they touch each other's butts a lot. Dunno if there's some sort of 'no homo' nonsense going on there but, uh. Uh."

Minghao blinked at you a few times, waiting to be sure you were done. For good measure, you added, "Sorry. I probably sound crazy, it's all Minkyung. I'm sorry. I'll shut up now." When he was sure you had nothing left to say, Minghao reached up to brush some of your hair behind your ear as he laughed. It wasn't a laugh like Jun's, stuck somewhere between mean and endeared and ultimately a mystery to you. No, Minghao sounded...smitten.

Score.

"He does like boys," Minghao said, "and girls, too. Sexuality has become much more fluid over the years, you know. I personally find that most people like at least a little bit of both. Like your friend. Zae-ung, or whatever his name was." He was fussing over you now, adjusting the bowl hat on your head and fixing your bow tie, finding any excuse to keep his hands on you.

You leaned closer to him. "Chan...he was alright," you decided.

"I like him. You don't come across humans as bright as he is very often," Minghao agreed, and if you weren't so taken with him in this moment, with his soft gaze and tentative touches, you would have found his choice of words somewhat strange.

Minghao's hands, wide palms and long fingers, were wrapped around your waist now. The music that had been playing quietly from the stereo this whole time suddenly came to life through speakers littered all across the parking lot, some girl group song that you didn't recognize, and if you listened hard enough you could hear Momo screaming at everybody to start dancing.

Orders from Momo were orders that could not be disobeyed. Much like the first night you'd met, Minghao guided you in some sort of simple ballroom dance, and just like before you were taken to another place. The party-goers around you faded away, there were no more flood lights blaring down upon you, the annoying song drifted into nothing. It was just you and Minghao and his hands on your hips and that earthy, burnt smell that was home to you now.

"I'll talk you through the choreo," Minghao promised quietly, leading you to the side of the crowd, and you noticed everyone subtly getting into position. With the way Minghao was smiling at you, you didn't even have the chance to be scared of what was to come. As long as Minghao kept looking at that, you felt safe. Nothing could go wrong.

Of course, he chose that exact moment to let you go and wander away. You grabbed after him, but the abrupt sound of a record scratch stopped you in your tracks, and then the opening synth chords of none other than "Thriller" again. Were there any other Halloween songs besides Thriller and The Monster Mash? You'd have to look into that when you had the chance.

"Kneel down, love," and there in your head was Minghao's voice again. You really must have been going crazy, imagining him saying he'd talk you through the choreo and then hearing his voice telling you the moves instead of Momo's, the way you'd learned it. By some twist of fate, you managed through the Thriller section of the dance with simple cues from 'Minghao' to “zombie walk” or to do “the thriller claws, you know the ones.”

When the song switched you ducked down to hide behind the nearest person and started crawling out of the camera's frame. There were lines of duct tape to indicate where the edge of said frame was, and you could only breathe again once you were safely past. You prayed that you'd managed to stay out of view on the journey over here—Momo would have no qualms about literally murdering you if you ruined she and Mina's video like that.

They were at the front breaking and doing whatever sort of flips and spins they did—you had no idea, you knew absolutely nothing about dancing. The two of them were dance majors, met in the studio, fell in love with each other through the way they moved. To them, dancing was as second nature as walking. They just couldn't understand how it was so much harder for you.

But your attention wasn't on them, no, your eyes were drawn only to Minghao. He hadn't even broken a sweat. At one point the music dropped out, and most of the dancers fell to the ground. A hollow, tinny beat kept on to which just a few of the dancers kept going—including Minghao. You could hear his voice in your head saying what each move was as he did them:

"This is a kick step," "A side spin," "The windmill."

There was absolutely no way you could have known what the names of those dance moves were, even if Momo had ever mentioned them. You never would have remembered or been able to connect the name to the move. A shiver trailed up your spine, goosebumps rising all over your arms. The clouds parted overhead. It was a full moon, and for the first time it occurred to you that there was something...off. About Minghao.

The light of the moon reflected off of him so brightly and you used that as an excuse to look away from him, but only when the music was fading out and the official choreography had ended. The way he moved was hypnotizing and you couldn't bear to turn your back on him before he'd finished. A normal song came back on, some Top 40's hit, and everyone transitioned seamlessly back into their twerks and sways and grinds.

You saw the red lights on all of the cameras go off, and finally felt free to move again. Minghao had spotted you on the sidelines and was practically floating across the ground with this wide, effortless smile—but you looked back at him with the most blank face you could manage, blocking out the warmth coming in at the edge of your subconscious, and he halted halfway to you. It felt like he was miles away.

You wanted nothing more than to cross that distance and let him sweep you into another waltz and not care about any of the things he did, the things he said, that just seemed...out of place. Unfortunately, you couldn't un-realize what you had. You raised your hand in a weak wave to him, one that he didn't return, before rushing off into the maze of cars to get away. He didn't follow.

Curled up in bed that night, there was a lot to think about. The only thing you knew for sure was that no matter what, you weren't scared of Minghao. Whatever he was, whatever he could do, you knew he'd never hurt you.

But there had been light conversation while you'd danced with him, most of it forgettable as it were, and one thing was sticking out now that you were as far away from Minghao as you could be and clear of his influence: he'd given you a good once over, asked who exactly you were supposed to be. "Mary Poppins, duh," you told him, and watched his eyes alight with recognition.

"Oh, I always liked that movie. Remember seeing it in theaters, it was really something." What did that mean? It hadn't seemed like anything important or strange to you in the moment. In the moment, it was just another statement that endeared him to you even more.

But Xu Minghao was twenty, supposedly, and one Google search later, you knew that Mary Poppins had come out in 1964. It was playing in theaters thirty-four years before Minghao should have been born.

There was no way Xu Minghao could have seen Mary Poppins in theaters if he was born in 1997. There was no way you should have known the names of those breakdance moves. There was no way your phone could have ended up in your room after your trip into the woods the other night, and there was no way you should have been able to find your way out of them. There was no way a virtual stranger could simply talk you out of a panic attack. There was no way he could have gotten from that spot beside you on the porch swing at The Yard to the banister without you noticing him get up.

There was no way Minghao was human.

#minghao smut #the8 smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #the8 scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #minghao angst #minghao fluff #the8 angst #the8 fluff #i wrote this #i shouldn't post this at like 4 a.m. but #i'm impatient #and i just!!! don't care anymore!!!#whatever BYE

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sophygurl · 7 years ago

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When Fandom Ain’t Fun: A Frank Talk by QPOC - WisCon 41 panel write-up

These get long so click the clicky to read.

Disclaimers:

I hand write these notes and am prone to missing things, skipping things, writing things down wrong, misreading my own handwriting, and making other mistakes. So this is by no means a full transcript.

Corrections, additions, and clarifications are most welcome. I’ve done my best to get people’s pronouns and other identifiers correct, but please do let me know if I’ve messed any up. Corrections and such can be made publicly or privately on any of the sites I’m sharing these write-ups on(tumblr and dreamwidth for full writings, facebook and twitter for links), and I will correct ASAP.

My policy is to identify panelists by the names written in the programming book since that’s what they’ve chosen to be publicly known as. If you’re one of the panelists and would prefer something else - let me know and I’ll change it right away.

For audience comments, I will only say general “audience member” kind of identifier unless the individual requests to be named.

Any personal notes or comments I make will be added in like this [I disagree because blah] - showing this was not part of the panel vs. something like “and then I spoke up and said blah” to show I actually added to the panel at the time.

When Fandom Ain’t Fun: A Frank Talk by QPOC

Moderator: Mark Oshiro. Panelists: ANerdCalledRage, Tanya D. (Katherine Cross listed, but unable to attend)

#WhenFandomAintFun - for the livetweets

Mark introduced himself by saying he was glad to be getting to do this with his friends who also yell about stuff on the internet (he’s Mark of Mark Reads, Mark Watches, etc.)

ANerdCalledRage asked to be identified by her twitter handle and not her real identity due to some issues that happened during livetweeting of a previous panel. I’m not entirely sure this meant for post-panel write-ups, but we’ll go with that to be on the safe side until/unless I hear otherwise.

Tanya introduced herself as someone who is active in talking about diversity in games (#INeedDiverseGames), and said that for some reason she’s still in the BioWare fandom online.

Mark holds up Tanya’s mug that read White Tears and said “it’s already full!” Tanya replied - “I’ve already been on a panel today.”

Tanya discussed how trying to talk about her own intersections as a black queer woman gets complaints about “harshing our glee” and “but why can’t I just...”

They all joke about being old, brown, tired and queer. (This is a theme repeated often throughout the panel)

Mark asked the panelists to talk about a time when fandom stopped being fun for them.

ANerdCalledRage replied with a time she and Mark were at a con and on a Firefly panel together - she’s a huge huge fan of Firefly while acknowledging it has issues. They were the only two poc on the panel. The moderator, a white man, made a lynching joke and a white woman on the panel continued on and made a second one. ANerdCalledRage was like “what are you doing - do you not see me right here?” She got a blank look in return - no one knew they’d done anything wrong.

While explaining why she’s not on tumblr, ANerdCalledRage remarked “oh I know - all the discourse - fuck your discourse!”

She talked some more about the Firefly panel above and said that at one point she made the remark that it’s dangerous to deify creators because they’re human and can make mistakes and people freaked out defending Joss Whedon.

Mark added that they’d even softballed any criticisms they had and still got such bad reactions in return. There’s this idea that cons are this happy fun space - but sometimes that happens at the expense of other people. Mark will rat people and cons out online for treating him badly, and has gained the reputation of “Mark the Con Killer”.

He talked about a time that a stranger on a panel called him a “fruitcake” (which he says he is fine with his friends saying to him btw), but it was so upsetting to him that he just shut down and stopped talking for the rest of the panel.

Mark brought this issue up to the con organizers and was told “well that’s just his sense of humor...” Mark was like “obviously - I do understand how jokes work, but still - “.

Tanya said that she gets this whenever she writes opinion pieces. One time she was discussing the racefail in Dragon Age and people responded telling her that she hates DA. Actually - she really loves the game series. She also gets told “you’re just making this about race.” She responded with “well yes, I’m brown. Every day. It affects me. Every day.”

Tanya was approached to write about a Switch game in which black women’s hair was used as a weapon. She had issues with this. Someone tracked down her personal account and told her she’s a horrendous person in reply. Then they said “have a nice day.”

She said she has stopped interacting with the Overwatch fandom due to pushback on intersectional issues. She talked about how she can’t just separate out her identities.

ANerdCalledRage added that no one can do that. We can’t just turn parts of ourselves off to create things or enjoy things - especially parts of ourselves that are forced upon us by our oppressors.

Mark brought up that qpoc are often pushed ashed even when they’re not talking about intersectionality.

Tanya replied with a story about some fanart that was created shortly after the release of images of a new character in a BioWare game. She was a dark woman, but the fan said they “improved” the image by giving her different lips, nose, hair, etc. Tanya said it was like being erased before she could even interact with this game. We can’t even exist in digital worlds! “You already have everything - can’t I just have this one character?”

ANerdCalledRage said she has mixed feeling about the character Bilquis on American Gods. She loved watching her swallowing a cishetwhiteman with her vagina, but she knows how the character ends up in the book.

She also talked about Thandie Newton’s character in The Chronicles of Riddick - a kind of Lady Macbeth character who has too much ambition, is too aggressive. She finally got to see herself in a role like that - but it was still very pigeonholed and the character is demonized.

ANerdCalledRage discussed the difficulty in watching a piece of herself being degraded just for being herself and fighting for what she believes in. Yet she was told by the fandom to just be Grateful for getting this representation. Saying things like that makes fandom less fun, and less inviting - isn’t that what fandom is supposed to be - sharing the things you love with others - don’t you want to share it??

Mark brought up the check boxes issue. As an example he brought up Supernatural (”I can’t believe I’m going to say something positive about this show...”) season 11 where there were queer hunters and one of the them was Latino - AND they got to live at the end. But people in the fandom were saying it was not believable to have someone who was both queer and Latino - it must be the writers just checking boxes.

Mark added that yes, sometimes white creators do this annoying thing of just checking boxes, but that’s not what he saw in this example. This idea that someone can’t be more than one thing is frustrating.

“I guess I don’t exist then - I’m just an astral projection of a bunch of social justice warriors online!” (big laughs)

Tanya’s response to people who don’t believe in diversity is - do you not go outside or read books or turn on the news that’s not FOX?

She gave an example from Watch Dogs 2 (btw, she very publicly hated the first one and told the game creators this on their own stage). But in the second one, there was a black nerdy guy and some people were saying it was not believable. This was set in San Francisco! It’s like people can’t imagine anything outside of their own tiny bubble.

ANerdCalledRage talked about how she and Tanya are both light skinned queer black women from Chicago, so at cons people often think they’re the same person. Tanya asked - have you been called Tanya yet this weekend? ANerdCalledRage replied - not to my face...

ANerdCalledRage said she had to leave the anime fandom - she was really into Dragon Ball Z. She also doesn’t go to Wizard World anymore. One time she saw a Dragon Ball Z T-shirt and squeed about it. The white dude vendor asked “oh you get that reference?” At first she was going to excitedly explain that she did, but then she realized he was asking in a patronizing way - not like a fellow fan would. Then he asked her how she would pay for it, in an even more condescending tone.

She also relayed a story from when she went to the anime club in college - everyone kind of stopped talking and looked at her when she entered the room and a white dude even asked her if she was lost. And when she is out with her friend who is Southeast Asian who is not into anime but ANerdCalledRage herself is wearing an anime T-shirt - people will stop to talk to them but direct the questions and convo to her friend.

ANerdCalledRage asked - how do I reconcile loving something that doesn’t love me?

Mark talked about the issue of people being mistaken for other people based on race. He often gets mistaken for Daniel Jose Older, for example. And, even though Mark is Latinx, he is often read as Middle Eastern and has been mistaken for Saladin Ahmed.

Mark added that these are often very well-meaning people with a good intent to compliment these authors, but it feels like a fuck you to him. These people aren’t bothering to notice their differences and who they really are.

Tanya replied that N. K. Jemisin has been mistaken for Octavia Butler - even after Butler died. She then talked about a panel last year where a bunch of black women switched their name tents around to have some fun with the problem.

Tanya talked about how in fiction, there’s often only one brown and/or queer character and then that character has to be model minority. Queer and poc characters are ignored, infantilized, erased, etc. One example of this is Kylo/Hux being shipped much more than Finn/Poe.

ANerdCalledRage brought up the new Ghostbusters movie (Tanya jokingly gets up to leave - this is apparently a conversation they’ve had many times before lol). ANerdCalledRage talked about Leslie Jones and Kate McKinnon’s treatments by the fans. She said she is not a fan of Jones’ character in the movie - she relies too much on negative tropes for black women. But she does respect Jones’ hustle.

ANerdCalledRage made the mistake of going online when Jones was being harassed - fans of the movie were not defending her but were giving McKinnon’s character so much support and praise just for being coded queer.

Leslie Jones got to play the first black woman Ghostbuster and no one was talking about that. So while ANerdCalledRage was excited to see girls watching this movie with femme action heroes, there were upsetting things going on too.

ANerdCalledRage was invited to be on a podcast talking about the movie - she was the only black person on the podcast. She felt like she couldn’t talk specifically about the issues affecting “me and mine.”

Tanya added that she was paid to write about the new Ghostbusters. She did not like the movie. The trailer only showed Jones’ character as having these negative stereotypes. She wrote her opinion piece about how they could have easily fixed this trope, and how it was the same stuff that Ernie Hudson’s character had in the original movies. She got so much flack for that piece.

Tanya also said she got really sick of all of the Holtzman praise and especially got mad at all the straight women saying things like “I’d go gay for Holtzman!”

Mark said he got a twitter question for the panelists about how they handle people wanting solidarity on one issue while ignoring the others - examples are Agent Carter and Supergirl.

ANerdCalledRage said she’s going to make enemies but “I hate Supergirl.” (Someone in the back cheered - much laughter) She said that the show was the blandest form of second wave feminism. She tried but couldn’t get through the pilot - even with multiple attempts. The J'onn J'onzz character was unapologetically showing a large black man scaring the shit out of a tiny blonde woman and she was wondering - do they even know what they’re doing with this trope? Fuck this show!

ANerdCalledRage added - to each their own - you can like the show. But don’t push me to watch it. I won’t ask you to stop watching it or liking it, but please consider my views and feelings.

Another example is Into the Badlands - there is an Asian American assassin character and a black woman doctor love interest. There was a great trope subversion there but ... they killed her off. It’s frustrating to have to justify opinions and feelings about this stuff.

Mark talked about the whole “just give it another try” thing that fandom does. His example is The 100. Wells Jaha was such a well developed black character - but just four episodes in they kill him to give a white girl feels for one episode.

People were recommending the show for the queer characters, but having that queer representation doesn’t justify the racist stuff. Wells’ own father stops talking about him for two whole seasons. Mark sees this as just bad writing. If they’re going to pull that kind of thing in episode four - they lose his trust.

Tanya said that the single issue thing was in effect for Agent Carter too. If your show failed because they forgot that brown people have money then...

(I have in my notes that some funny conversation ensued but wow I was getting tired at this point and cannot read my own handwriting. wooops.)

An audience member asked about the Black Panther movie and not representing the lesbian characters from the comics. ANerdCalledRage talked about being excited as hell for the movie, but also really scared. Marvel’s history with erasing black creators and lack of complex black characters, especially if they have more than one marginalization.

Another audience member asked the panelists if they had any examples of calling someone in fandom out and that person actually changing. Mostly blank looks at first as they try to recall something.

Tanya mentioned one time someone on tumblr told her not use the term poc - she engaged with them and gave them resources. A week later they came back and apologized. She figures they “fell into a discourse pool and drowned.”

She said she often gets comments on twitter from people saying “I never thought about that before...” and she replies with “because you never had to.” She said she’s not online to educate her white followers. If that happens, good, but sometimes when people thank her for doing that she wants to give them her paypal link.

Mark talked about how sometimes people will tweet creators his reviews. (He said don’t do that, btw, it’s creepy and weird) But one time this happened when he was talking about some transphobic stuff in Leverage and John Rogers (I think - notes unclear but I think that’s who he was talking about) got sent the review and actually thanked Mark for bringing it up. John Green has also thanked him for bringing up issues in his work.

And audience member asked - so there’s hope? Mark replied - don’t quote me on that! But ANerdCalledRage added - we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have hope.

One audience member (who I believe was a white male) admitted they were going to tell a story - Mark said no we only have 2 minutes left but the audience member continued and said - okay I’ll be brief... Tanya stepped in and said - I’m not hearing a question, so the audience member finally realized what they were doing and stopped.

(I include this to kind of illustrate a point, I guess. Someone with privilege with good intent was over-stepping and it took them a bit to figure it out, but they did eventually realize and stop. Another example of people eventually getting it??)

ANerdCalledRage talked about her concerns with the CW picking up Black Lightning. This comic story is about an older black male superhero who chooses to stop and make his family a priority. He also has two daughters who begin to have powers. So there are Two Black Female characters who are coming into their power! Now, in the comics, one of them is a lesbian - will that happen on the show?

Mark brought up a fanfic where Cap punches Nick Spencer in the face - everyone cheered loudly, and that wrapped up the panel perfectly.

#whenfandomaintfun #when fandom ain't fun #wiscon #wiscon 41 #wiscon41 #wc41 #fandom

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dietmoonfairy · 6 years ago

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Just Me, Processing

I have always found that writing is the best way for me to process through something, because I tend to go around in circles in my head until I actually write it out linearly. Something about the lines of writing make it harder to circle back to the beginning and do the entire round about again. So this is me, processing my preterm labor experience that I returned from the hospital on bed rest from this afternoon.

Saturday night, I worked what was actually a pretty low-key shift, at least from a physical standpoint. I requested to be put on call after working a more strenuous Thursday shift, in part to give my body a little more time to rest before I switched over to doing day shift for the next couple of weeks (my first day shift was supposed to be Monday). These two weeks of day shift have been giving me a little bit of anxiety, mostly because at 34 weeks pregnant I definitely am moving slower, and day shift is by its very nature faster paced than night shift. I also expected I’d need to circulate for scheduled c-sections, which I was nervous about because of the physical aspect but also because I’m still not 100% comfortable with sections (which is why I was going to do these days shifts in the first place). Since early last week, I had tossed the idea around of requesting a note from my OB to go on light duty for work, because we have had an uptick in shit-show shifts and each of those has been harder to recover from physically. Leaving the hospital in tears mostly because my back and belly are just in so much pain, but also because the shift has been mentally taxing, doesn’t need to be my norm but especially not this late in my pregnancy. But ultimately, I decided not to ask about it. Because it’s the US, and Texas to boot, there are no strict maternity leave laws. I haven’t worked for my hospital long enough to qualify for FMLA, so my maternity leave is going to consist of 6 weeks of short-term disability and another two weeks my manager has pre-approved. 8 weeks of total leave. It’s already not ideal, but it’s what I have to work with. My concern with requesting lighter duty was that I know no such thing exists in my area of nursing, and by law if there is no such thing on the unit for those with a disability already, short-term pregnancy disability doesn’t have to be granted. I was worried my bosses would have me use some of my 8 weeks of leave on this end of the pregnancy, leaving me with even less time post-partum with my new daughter. I was able to be home with my first daughter for a full year; I already have second-child guilt that this baby won’t get as much of my time. 8 weeks will be no time at all, I couldn’t in good conscience make that even less time. So I went to work on Saturday, reluctantly.

I won’t go into too much detail about my shift Saturday night, but it does feel pertinent to remind myself when I come back to this later and reread it, that we were in a demise cycle. Fetal demises (stillbirths and miscarriages) come in threes; my shift Thursday night had one, and Saturday night at about 2am we had a mom come in for decreased fetal movement. We couldn’t find heart tones, she was 38 weeks and 4 days along with her pregnancy. Every demise is heartbreaking, but these are particularly hard on multiple levels. It isn’t usually us, the nurses, who break the news to moms that their babies are dead. They usually find out by going to their OB office, and come to us shell-shocked but ready for the next step. Not the case for this demise. As a clearly pregnant nurse, I did not have this patient; we try not to pair pregnant nurses with demises, for obvious reasons. But I felt her pain, and every time Evie moved in my after she came into the hospital, I felt a little guilty and relieved at once.

So that was my Saturday night, in part. I came away from the shift in a little emotional pain but not as much physical pain as I have been. My belly was tight, like it usually is when I haven’t hydrated enough and have pushed myself a bit, but nothing really unusual. On and off this pregnancy, I’ve had a pain along the right side of my uterus, and that was there as well. Usually these things go away with rest and water. But by Sunday evening, I was still noticeably uncomfortable, and I was a little concerned about it. Honestly, I was still more concerned about what the next day (my Monday shift) was going to look like. In order to call out and not be in trouble, due to SXSW and spring break, I was going to need a doctor’s note and proof of illness, which I wasn’t going to be able to get on a Sunday night unless I went in and was triaged at the hospital by one of the people in my OB practice. I hemmed and hawed a bit but ultimately called the office to speak with someone and see whether they thought I should come in or not. The nurse-midwife on call gave me the choice of either trying to sleep and seeing what happened, or going up to NAMC right then and being checked out. I decided it was best to go in, spend the couple of hours being triaged and ultimately be told “hey, you’re working too hard, you need to take a day or two off” and call into work for the next day conscience clear. This really was about avoiding that Monday shift, which I think is why I feel somewhat guilty about all the rest. Maybe I just should have worked the damn shift.

My husband and I drove to NAMC while my dad, who happened to be in town visiting, kept an ear/eye out for our sleeping toddler. I truly did think we’d be there for a couple of hours and then back home. We didn’t even bring our cell chargers with us, much less any clothes or a bag or anything. Truth be told, I don’t actually have a labor back packed still...see second child syndrome.

Arriving, I thought the whole things was a little surreal. It was strange to be on the receiving end of care I usually am giving to my own patients. I had my first daughter at a birthing center, and by the time I arrived there I was very obviously in labor and ready to be there. So doing a hospital visit at all for this pregnancy was new, and going through triage was new for me. We checked in, I got taken to the triage room and handed the gown and pee cup. I’ve said the same spiel as they said, but it was still really weird to take my clothes off and put the hospital gown on. I put it on, and felt self conscious about keeping the bottom half open. Even though I know we do it for the ease of putting on the monitors, and I knew I would just wind up untying it moments later, I was sorely tempted to tie the bottom before walking the five steps out of the bathroom to the triage bed. I’m not a modest person, and pregnancy tends to strip away much of what little modesty I have. When I gave birth to my daughter, I started off in this sun dress my husband pulled out of my closet, but very quickly wound up naked and never really thought much about it. So to feel weird about the hospital gown was itself weird to me. Sitting on the bed, being strapped to the monitors, and then just going along with the normal triage routine, I was so struck by how much I did not enjoy the experience. The bright lights, the hospital gown, being hooked to a monitor, all of that was like nothing I experienced with my first birth. I said as much to my husband, that I did not like it and didn’t want to have it as an experience for when Evie is born. It all felt alien and I didn’t feel like I had any power over the situation, I was just sort of along for the ride. Which isn’t something I expected from this experience, truth be told. I never have thought that the way we triaged patients immediately stripped them of their autonomy, but now I definitely see how it does. And in the future I really plan to address that, because if I (a woman who has dedicated the last 6 years of my life trying to empower women to have the best birth experiences possible for them, with as much say as possible, not to mention someone who has already given birth the way she wanted to and felt she had a voice to say what she needed) felt stripped of my autonomy, I can only imagine how women less informed and less confident must feel.

In the triage, I had some blood drawn, I saw the nurse-midwife who inquired about the pain I was experiencing. She checked me for appendicits, which wasn’t the issue, and then said, “Well let’s monitor you for an hour or so and see what we see.” Great, I figured that would be the case. The monitor was picking up small contractions, but I didn’t feel any of them, and this is not unusual for being 34 weeks pregnant, especially not if I was dehydrated still and recovering from my shift the night before.

After that hour, because of the contractions, the nurse-midwife returned and said, “I’d like to check your cervix to see if you’re actually in labor.” Here, I hesitated: I really did not want a cervical check. I did not have any with my previous birth until I was in active labor and at the birthing center. I was 7cm, well effaced, and my daughter was low. I don’t remember feeling anything with the check because I was well on the way to giving birth. I had one more hours later to determine I’d made some progress and that I wasn’t complete yet, and that was that. It’s just been my philosophy that they aren’t incredibly necessary tools; a woman can be 4cm dilated at an appointment and still not go into labor for a week, while another might be 1cm and go into labor the next day. They’re just not determinate. Against my better judgment though, I agreed to the check. And boy do I now, in retrospect, think that was a mistake. The midwife called me 1 1/2cm dilated, with bloody show (which means that the vessicles on the cervix and in the vagina itself break and bleed -its a common sign in labor that the cervix is dilating to have bloody show). Now, I know that I have a pretty vessicled cervix, even when not pregnant. I often bleed from vaginal exams at the OB, and have bled from sex before as well. So hearing that she had some blood didn’t bother me, especially with how painful the exam itself was. I didn’t expect that I would dilate at all, so I still wasn’t worried, just kind of miffed by the experience.

Then the contractions kicked up.

And truly, that is when I started to become panicked. I skipped over nervous and straight into panic. Because while before I was having the contractions but couldn’t feel them, now I felt them. They weren’t painful, they were pressure, but the pressure was strong and pressing down into my bottom and the contractions became regular. Every five minutes I’d feel it building and with each contraction I started to lose it more and more. Because suddenly, this exercise in being triaged had taken a very different turn. And despite, or maybe because, of all the knowledge I have, I began to freak out about the worst case scenarios. All I kept thinking was how I was not ready for labor. I was NOT ready for labor. I was not mentally in a place to be in labor, and physically the hospital was the furthest place i wanted to be for my labor. But I wasn’t going to have a choice because, at 34 weeks, my baby would be pre-term and have an automatic ticket for the NICU. Another thing I absolutely was not prepared for and therefore was panicking about. My body began to physically shake as I tried to hold in all the emotion. Ultimately the dam broke (the first of multiple times that night/early morning) and I did cry. It didn’t help the underlying anxiety and panic over what this experience was going to look like and how I kept returning to not being anywhere near ready.

When the midwife came back two hours later, I already knew she was going to tell me about my contractions. And when she checked me, even though I prayed my cervix had stayed the same, I had my doubts. Sure enough, it had dilated. Not much: I’d gone from 1 1/2cm to 2. But it was change, and any change when you’re looking at a possible pre-term birth is disconcerting. I knew I was staying that night. I was once again panicking. I was trying to become okay with the idea that I might meet Evie that day, and all I kept thinking was, “No no no. She’s supposed to be an April baby. She can’t be a March baby. I don’t even like the date.” It sounds ridiculous, but I tend to latch onto very shallow things when I’m terrified of the deeper ramifications. And still, it all felt so surreal, not quite out of body but close.

They took me to a labor room, got me all hooked up, and I tried to reassure myself. The contractions, which had been consistent and very obvious, began to lessen once I was told I was staying. I think the two hours of uncertainty, of feeling contractions but not knowing if I’d made cervical change or if I would be going home, and the hysteria I let build in my body did me no favors. And i think the cervical check itself irritated my already irritable uterus, to the point where it was like, “Oh... am I supposed to be doing something? Should I be...evicting this parasite? Um, okay, I’ll work on that...” But I had no way of knowing that for sure, and it felt like denial to not think and acknowledge the alternative. Still, I felt a little more reassured, as though things would be okay. Colin and I even settled in to rest some, after my dose of penicillin finished (I will never again doubt when a patient tells me how much that penicillin hurts; my hand felt like it was about to fall off). With all the fluids I had running in me, I was getting up to go to the bathroom more than I ever do (which absolutely tells me something about my usual hydration status), and initially after those cervical checks there had been some blood. Not much, but a little bit. By the time we were resting at about 4am, I hadn’t seen much. I really was reassured that this was false-labor and all would be okay. I slept until about 6, when a few contractions woke me up. They still only felt like pressure, and the pressure was mostly in my bladder, so I got up to pee. When I wiped, I looked down, and my heart sank. There was more bloody show, and it wasn’t old blood. Some of it looked fresh. I wiped multiple times and there was more. I got back into the bed and cried silently. I felt defeated, I felt hopeless. I didn’t want to wake up Colin and acknowledge that more blood meant my cervix was still probably changing. This, even though the contractions weren’t consistent and I wasn’t feeling them again once I had emptied my bladder. But that blood...

I was debating calling my nurse when she came in to check on me. I tearfully admitted the bloody show, which she checked on some of the paper I threw into the trash. She very kindly got me those mesh panties and put a pad on me, and told me what I already knew but still desperately needed to hear. That was a theme of this experience. Despite knowing what I was going to hear, I needed to hear everything confirmed out loud. She told me that yes, it did look fresh, but when she wiped me herself before putting on the panties, she didn’t get much but residual. She thought it could still likely be the trauma of the cervical checks. I clung to that hope, but still cried feeling like it was all denial by this point. She called the midwife, who said we would stick to the plan of my OB checking me on her rounds at about 8-9 in the morning, unless something significant happened before then. I tried to sleep some more.

Amazingly, I managed another hour or so. The sun was up when my new dayshift nurses introduced themselves, and I spent some time staring at the ceiling and the walls and out the window at the beautiful ductwork outside my windows. By this point, I had peed again, and been so relieved to have very little show. And it was clearly not new. I let myself hope that between that, and not feeling any contractions except for maybe the random one or two in a thirty minute time period, that really and truly this wasn’t labor. I feared my OB would want to do a cervical check and start the whole process over.

What a relief when my doctor finally came, and said that because my contraction pattern had slowed and I wasn’t feeling them, she felt confident that this was not truly labor, and that I was just underhydrated and overworked. The plan was made to transfer me to antepartum, where I would rest and be watched for the day and the night, receive a second steroid shot 24 hours after the first (which had been gien to me at 3am as soon as I was admitted), and then hopefully be sent home in the morning.

Which is exactly what happened. I’m now home, on light activity bed rest, with a note for work to not go back until I am 37 weeks and therefore term. There is still the issue of what I’m going to do about my leave, and that will have to be addressed, but truly what I am still processing now is I think two-fold: I feel betrayed by my body, that it would try to go into labor too soon and without there being a single damn thing I could do to stop it, and also that coming home didn’t just fix that anxiety of the whole experience. Every twinge I feel makes me worry. There has been no blood since mid-afternoon yesterday, yet today after I got home, I wiped and had just a light pink tinge to my underwear and my toilet paper. It sent my anxiety through the roof.

The thing is, I KNOW intellectually that all of these things are normal at 34 weeks. I KNOW, as much as I really can know anything, that everything that happened Sunday night/early Monday morning was because of a combination of a tired body and an irritated uterus and a cervix that is easily friable. But that isn’t stopping the fear that the twinge in my side that I just felt might be the start of something I can’t stop, or that I might just gush amniotic fluid at any time. I think, too, the fact that I wasn’t really planning to take the bed rest as seriously as maybe I should is weighing on me now, after being uncomfortable for most of the day and now having very very very light spotting. Bed rest, for what it’s worth, hasn’t actually been shown to be of any benefit. Limiting activity to light things has but not actually staying in bed. It has actually been shown to increase muscle weakness and cause other potential issues without any real benefit. But I know I’d never forgive myself, never be able to believe completely, that I wasn’t the cause of my baby’s preterm labor if it all happens before it’s “supposed” to.

I’m having a really tough time separating the things I know intellectually and what I’m feeling, mentally and physically. And this was just overall a terrifying experience, plain and simple. I feel I’ve lost trust in my body, and the thing is: part of having a successful labor is being able to implicitly trust that your body knows what it is doing and letting it happen. I’m worrying that even if I make it to term, I’m not going to have the labor I had with my first daughter because my fears will become obstacles.

And I have to say, I’m a little mad too at myself. I’m mad I let that cervical check happen. No, i didn’t know it would lead to the cascade it did, but I do know my own body well enough to be aware that my cervix is friable and bleeds easily, and that I could start contracting from too much irritation to it. I’m mad I didn’t say “no.” I’m mad I let myself be cowed by professionals even though I AM A PROFESSIONAL IN THIS FIELD. It wasn’t as though the midwife bullied me, which is why I’m not mad at her. She did her job the way she should have. I’m mad I didn’t trust myself and my body, and that the result is I’ve lost some of that trust. I’m mad and still scared about how all of this could have gone, how I could have a baby in the NICU right now if I had different OBs and nurse-midwives. And I feel guilty, because all of this started because I didn’t want to go to work. To give myself a little credit, I think I was rightly listening to my body’s cues on that, but it still feels wrong, like I put myself and my baby into true harm’s way by being lazy. Really and truly, the attendance policy, maternity leave policies (or lack there of), our call-out policy are all more to blame than I am, but I feel the weight of responsibility for this right now.

In my (much shorter) Facebook post for the benefit of friends and family, I did talk about the silver linings of the experience, which is that I have now experienced all these things I hadn’t before, things my patients experience. I know it will make me a better nurse. But here, in a much more private (or at least anonymous) setting, I don’t feel the need to go into that. Because while it is true, I do feel that way, I wouldn’t go back and do the whole thing over just to have those experiences for my patients. It isn’t a worthwhile trade off to me, except maybe the realization that my autonomy can just as easily be pulled from me as from someone less informed. And again, not out of malice, but the end result is no less traumatic.

I think this is where I’m going to stop, mostly because my vision is getting bleary from tiredness and I really do need to start listening more to those cues. As my baby bears down on her weight into my vagina and sends another fear coursing through me that she’s going to break her amniotic sac right here, right now. She has the hiccups and is stretching. I want to be able to go back to rolling my eyes and laughing about that rather than being scared of it. I really hope I can.

#evelynlenore #pretermlabor #cervicalcheck #processing

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awriterstransition · 7 years ago

Text

Queen of The Ring

I knocked on a back stage door, and soon enough it was answered by a nervous Mrs. Ring who quickly pulled me into the dressing room, so she could pull me close into her arms, her firm arms squeezing me tightly, soft tears of happiness came down her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, I never thought you’d come.” “I’m sorry it took me a moment.” I apologized hugging Mrs. Ring back, before she let me go, and I lifted up the intimidating hospital grade medical kit. “Just in case.” I smiled, and Mrs. Ring gave a small laugh seeing this and she nodded in understanding, as she went back over to the mirror and sat down at stool, so she could brush the knots out of her fur. That way during the fight the fur didn’t get snagged on, and therefore create a good grip for a grapple. I soon grunted as Andrew jumped up into my chest, quickly catching him in my arms, stumbling back by his attack. “Isen I made this for you in class.” Andrew said as he held up a crudely drawn picture, very basic but appreciated. I took this from Andrew and walked over to Mrs. Ring, looking over the picture smiling. “Is this supposed to me and your Mother being joined?” I asked seeing the gray link between the canine black female stick figure, and what I assumed was me, another stick figure. Mrs. Ring looked at me in the mirror and gave a sigh. “I told you not to give that to him.” Mrs. Ring protested scolding Andrew, who just smiled happily in my arms, his tail ecstatic and wagging with excitement “It’s fine.” I simply countered nuzzling Andrew’s nose with my own, feeling its cold wetness, before setting him down on the floor. “I’ll put it up on the fridge when I get back home, now go and sit down. While I help you mother get bound up for her match.” I continued and the small canine quickly ran away, rather happy with me being around, a large happy smile on his muzzle. Though unlike most human children, Mincridarn children were incredibly well behaved, so Andrew went to the couch in the room, and fell silent leaning over and drawing on the table. “You don’t have to help me with the bandages, I can do it.” I simply shot Mrs. Ring a glance, and put the kit down and unclicked the locks and took out a set of bandages. “Just brush your fur.” I simply demanded and hearing this Mrs. Ring did as she was told, and I got down on my knee, put her foot on my leg and started to wrap her foot and shin with the thick white bandage. “You know I’ve never been back stage before.” I added looking around the room, the bare walls gray and basic. The furniture sat on a worn, and an old carpet, tan; which blended in with the wooden pieces around the room. I looked up at Mrs. Ring who was wearing only a simple white shirt slightly damp with sweat, and athletic shorts black shorts around her hip. “Not many humans are allowed, not even human press is allowed back here. Some of those humans are large pervs, abusing our customs and culture just to make something to enjoy as they touch themselves.” Mrs. Ring explained as she brushed her arms with the thick black comb. “The guards were pretty heavy on security, I nearly didn’t get through until the stage manager came out and said something.” I added, as I took up Mrs. Ring’s second leg and started to wrap it as well. “So you’re doing a bare bone fight?” “The last one of the day.” Mrs. Ring explained before removing her shirt, revealing her bandaged breasts. She never wore a bra, she always said it felt so unnatural and weird. So she always bound her breasts. “So should I prepare some Ice packs?” “Already in the cooler.” Mrs. Ring admitted as she put down her brush and looked down at me, watching me finish before she stood up. She then dropped her shorts reveal the cloth bound men’s style underwear, because unlike most animals, some female Hyena breeds like Mrs. Ring has a distended clitoris, which gave her a cock like vagina. So even in the underwear I could see the fair sized vagina tucked tightly away. I didn’t say anything because this wasn’t my first time being this close to it, or her covered female form. I simply thought about the match. A bare bones fight was a fight that meant a fight fought in the nude, with no weapons, only hands and feet. However do to human regulations, and TV ratings, Mincridarins had to cover up their female and male parts. IF the bandages broke during the match it would mean an instant stop, so the bandages can be rebound. Sometimes fighters would tear of their own coverings just to call time out. Because unlike most human fights, there was no such thing as a time out, a Mincridarn fought till they passed out, or were knocked unconscious. Bare Bone fights because of this, is a far more brutal concept. I got up and picked up another roll of bandages and started wrapping Mrs. Ring’s hands. “Just try not to get too many bruises, alright?” “I know.” Mrs. Ring admitted with a sigh, though she was truly happy that Isen was here by her side. Her happiness couldn’t hide itself, and her tail wagged on its own, as she enjoyed Isen’s soft touch, watching as how he wound the bandages around her hands and wrists. “Isen….” Mrs. Ring started, hesitated to say what was truly on her mind. She wanted to deeply express her attraction, and the fact that she wanted to dedicate this fight to him. She wanted to prove that she was a capable mate, and that she could protect him from danger. That Isen could rely on her, and she could prove herself to be a strong female, worth his attention and his affection. “What?” I simply asked hearing the comment fall away, wondering what Mrs. Ring was wanting to say. “Thanks for the bandages, my last ones were getting old anyways.” “No problem, I brought the kit just in case I need to do any stitching, or take care of any scratches.” I admitted and Mrs. Ring smiled hearing this, and once I was done felt the bandages around her fingers. Thin but enough to protect from basic claw attacks. “I need to get ready for the ring, take Andrew and go sit down. I got you front row seats, I don’t want you to miss anything.” Mrs. Ring admitted, mainly because she didn’t want Isen to miss anything, she wanted to prove to him that she could protect him, and that she was a worthy mate. So she wanted him to watch her closely so he could see her strength in person. “Well thanks for telling me now, I got tickets. Do you have any idea how much those things cost?” I groaned in agitation, remembering the few favors I had to use just to get two seats, for him and Andrew. “That’s why, I took care of it. Now just get going.” Mrs. Ring finished, shooing me away with a large smile. Taking me to the door before she snapped her fingers and summoned Andrew to her side. “Go with Isen and be good, and maybe I’ll get you a cookie when I’m done fighting.” “Yes Mother.” Andrew agreed happily holding up his arms, and I smiled and picked up Andrew and with him in my arms I left Mrs. Ring alone in her dressing room. When Isen had left Mrs. Ring alone and the door had closed, she steadied herself on the door panting as her hand had traveled between her legs, and she thought about Isen taking her. Shifting her fingers down into the entrance of her distended, cock like clitoris. She moaned softly wanting to be with Isen, she hadn’t had a male in over a year and she need some release, and she was going to make sure she proved to Isen that she deserved it by winning this fight. However Mrs. Ring stopped because she if she didn’t, she’d ruin her underwear. After nearly an hour of waiting, the entire Arena filling up with spectators, Isen sat in the damn front row normally only reserved for high paying sponsors and clients. The fact I was there right next to the ring, I immediately knew something was up. However the ushers, and some of those that he sat with, humans who owned a major portion in the arena, kept their distance not wanting to interact with me too much. However unlike most TV shows, Mincridarins stuck to traditions so Mrs. Ring’s entrance and the heavy set female bear, weren’t introduced with music or anything. They mainly just walked into the center of the Arena. The stands were quiet for the most part even the humans were to uncomfortable to get excited. Because a fight between Mincridarins was a silent matter, speaking up during a fight was shunned, because that meant possibly aiding the fighters and confusing them, or even distracting them. To keep the fight honorable, the crowd was told to be normally quiet. An armored guard, a rhino, wore heavy Kevlar padding and thick steel shields on his wrists. It was then that the referee took out a mic and started to speak to the crowd, if you counted yelling as speaking. “Silence!” The rhino demanded, and with that his heavy and booming voice carried through the speakers, the entire Arena hushed in stone cold silence listening to the Rhino referee. “Good. Our finale fight will be between our champions, Ring, her own name perfect as she is our reigning queen of the ring.” At this the entire stadium filled with noise, howls, and cries of happiness and even boos, this was allowed because it wasn’t during the fight. However one of the few boos came from the human sitting next right to me, and I just glared at him, I didn’t need to say anything. After being with Lynn so long, I knew how to intimidate those I disliked with a single stare, and soon after looking at the human he fell silent shifting in his seat uncomfortably. “But we have a champion challenging her, possibly someone to take her throne.” The rhino continued and the entire stadium cried out in happiness. “To challenge the Queen of the Ring we have the beast of the Wild Forest, Enthalra!” The rhino let the arena continue on with its happiness, neither fighter sponsoring themselves, to add commotion to the arena. They just simply glared each other down. “Silence!” The Rhino soon demanded and everyone feel quiet. “Tonight we have a bare bones fight, agreed by our Queen of the ring. No weapons, or magic, your body is your only weapon. Do you both agree with this?” The Rhino asked and the Enthalra raised her left hand, and soon afterwards Mrs. Ring did as well. With that conformation, two females got into a combat stance. “Before we start however, we have a dedication.” The rhino called out and the entire stadium fell silent a soft murmuring filling the area. Because dedicating a fight to someone, was a show of loyalty, trust, and love. IF someone was making a dedication that meant this battle was meant to attract the attention of a mate, and hopefully if it went well, that would mean plenty of things, but if it didn’t. Both people would be shamed by the loss, but most of all, the one that is making the dedication, because they failed. “The Queen of the Ring would like to dedicate this battle, to the Human Angel! Isen Dale!” The Rhino called out as he looked down at me, a beam of light coming down over my seat. This action collecting everyone’s attention in the room, most of the Mincridarins murmuring quietly still rather surprised by this. “I Challenge that!” A familiar voice called out, and soon enough the light over my form shifted over the crowd and landed on Lynn. He stood tall and made his way out of the stands. I soon shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I heard other challenges called out around the entire arena, and other Mincridarins came forward. Challenging a dedication is a way of express ones heart, to risk shame in order to prove that they are the better mate. That they are stronger and better suited, then the one first making a dedication. The challengers made a small disconnected circle around the ring, standing firm. Hands by their side all looking at Mrs. Ring, challenging her right to be deemed the better mate. “We have thirty Challengers?!” The Rhino called out, out right confused by the turnout. He expected this to just go over smoothly. He didn’t expect things to get so out of hand, so he came forward, dropping down from the lifted platform and towards me. “What do you say Isen?” The Rhino asked, looking down at me pointing the mic towards my lips. I stood up, knowing this was ridicules, but this was how Mincridarins found their mates. Their world was one of combat, and strength. Their world filled with hundreds of dangers, so finding a mate that could protect you from those dangers was how they learned to survive and live. “Andrew please stay right there.” I simply commanded and Andrew nodded, knowing what such a turnout meant, and he wasn’t happy about it either. I took jumped over the protective railing and beside the Rhino. I took up the mic and brought it to my lips. “I am a human? I’m not a Mincridarn, I don’t need strength to protect me from dangers. I’ve lived a happy life with very little problems. Do you really think I care about how strong you are? Do you really think I care about how good you are at fighting? I care about the heart and the mind, I have hardly any standards, but I care about how open minded you are, accepting of me and what I like. What I care about is your ability to care about those around you, to hold out your arms even to those that you hate. I care about you learning to be better than who you are through actions and learning… I’m honored to have so many that care about me, but please this is enough. If you want to fight for my name, I won’t stop you, but I won’t care. IF you want to be with me you’ll have to find your own way, not through combat.” I finished as I looked at Mrs. Ring who had broken her stance watching me. Feeling slightly shammed because of what I said, because she made this dedication in hope of proving herself to Isen. To think that such a dedication meant nothing to him truly hurt. “For some of you that might be harder than others, but I understand. So thank you Mrs. Ring, I came here for you tonight. No one else, so everyone else please go to your seats.” I finished before clicking off the mic and handing it back to the Rhino. Mrs. Ring perked up hearing this and she looked at me in surprise, and a small smile came to her lips, and her tail waged softly hearing this. My words seem to have struck the heart of some of the others and the fidgeted, their forms confused and saddened that what they were trying to do meant nothing to me. I came over to a large Reindeer, his body built like a wall, I touched his forearm and looked at him. His eyes sad and he looked down at me. I pulled the head of the male closer and kissed his nose. “I don’t care about how strong you are, but I understand what this means, so thank you. Please go and sit down.” I simply finished and the reindeer nodded and left. I continued to send the challengers away, knowing that turning some of them away hurt them far more than anything else in the life. They were risking shame and ridicule just for a chance to show me that they were a better mate. I also knew most of them, some of them by name others by memory. I had interacted with each one in some form, helping them adjust, find a job or helping them in school. Mincridarins were naturally kind hearted, they were like steel beasts, with a golden hearts. They may be intimidating, but they naturally cared for one another, they were big softies with fur. I came in front of Lynn and looked at him sadly. “You should have already known I wouldn’t agree with this.” “What makes her better than me Isen? Why are you willing to be with her, why aren’t you giving me a chance?” Lynn countered looking down at me with sad eyes, soft tears starting to form around his eyes. “What has she done for you?” Lynn continued just trying to find some answer for my choice. “Nothing. But I know her, and I know she has a hard time expressing herself more than anyone. She’s done nothing for me, but kiss me. For someone like Mrs. Ring, that means more than anything. She did this because she doesn’t know how to express herself in any other way, she is a female trained only in combat and fighting. She doesn’t understand how to express her desires or feelings beyond combat.” I explained feeling Lynn’s muzzle, and he nuzzled my hand, holding it close with his own. Softly crying as he enjoyed my soft touch on his fur. “What do I have to do, to prove to you I can be your mate?” Lynn softly wept, and I pet the side of his muzzle kindly. “Go and sit down Lynn, learn to let go.” I simply finished, and pulled my hand away, and Lynn softly cried hearing this. “I can’t Isen, I can’t let you go. I love you, please stay with me.” “If you want to prove to me that you’re better than learn to let go, and accept my choices and decisions. Now leave, I don’t want to force you back in your seat but I will if I have too.” I simply explained using my magic to create blade of air around my right thumb, and with that I cut a deep into my left hand’s palm, drawing plenty blood and making it drip on to the floor. I knew Lynn knew what such an action meant. He trained me in magic personally, he had given me this unique weapon and he knew of it’s power. I was willing to use it, seeing how hard Lynn was being, he almost seemed to cling to me like a hopeless child. This was my life not his, I had the right to do what I wanted, he just seemed to want to counter that. “Isen, you don’t need to cut yourself. I’ll go I promise just please let me fix you hand?” Lynn said reaching for my bleeding hand but I pulled this away, a soft look of fear in his eyes not wanting me to be in pain, but also because he knew what I was willing to do. “Go sit down Lynn.” I countered and walked away, leaving a trail of blood on the ground. “Isen?” Mrs. Ring called out quickly rushing to my side seeing the blood, she took my hand in hers. “What are you doing you idiot?” She countered with an angry slap to the back of my head. “It’s nothing I can handle it.” “Lynn you cut your hand! You need a medic! You need to go to a hospital!” At this point I cried out in pain, a purple light came up from my wound and glowing needles started to sew my cut closed. Mrs. Ring looked at Lynn who was still standing nearby, his eyes closed as he concentrated on the healing. “Fuck.” I cried out in pain, having to increase the magic I already had around my wound so I could increase the pain tolerance, in a way to numb most of the pain. “Lynn stop you’re hurting him!” Mrs. Ring called out in anger seeing, her snout curling up in a harsh growl of anger, she didn’t remotely like the idea of Isen being in pain. She even started to walk towards Lynn, but before she could leave I grabbed her wrist. “Please stop, its shadow magic. It’s called dark suture, it’s a healing spell, and it’s just incredibly painful. Just let it go, the pain will pass.” I cringed having guessed Lynn wasn’t going to let me walk away while I was injured. But soon enough the pain passed and Lynn turned and walked away, leaving me in Mrs. Ring’s arms as a nearby medic looked over my hand, and helped me back to my seat when he found the wound was properly closed. However he put my hand in a thick bandage just to keep the blood contained if the wound reopened. “What were you thinking cutting your hand like that?” The feline medic protested looking at me rather bothered by what I had just done. “It’s nothing you have to worry about, thank you for the bandage.” The medic nodded unsure, but left nonetheless. I watched Mrs. Ring enter the ring and the Rhino soon joined her. Andrew pulled my wounded hand into his grasp, and he looked at me sadly knowing blood was a bad thing. He was scared for my life, and he pulled me close softly crying, thinking I was honestly going to die. I calmed his down just as the match started, and we watched Mrs. Ring fight.

#Mrs. Ring/Isen #Part 18

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