#i am going to bite this man why is he like this

[okwonyo]

（ 标题 ） STRAWBERRY HEAD.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀a guy with a fun costume flirts with you at a party.

( 엔하이픈 희승 ) ୨୧ f .. r 12OO fluff meet cute ── flirting skinship ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

지아 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒ㅤ i am not leaving tumblr everrr don’t worry, luvdolls 💌

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

it always ends up the same. no matter what the conversation is, no matter how it began or where; it always ends up with the same conclusion. why don’t you have a boyfriend, yet?

as always, you groan while tilting your face to the ceiling. like a tradition, it is like you are begging a superior being to end your misery now and just take you before they all start to recall all your failed dates and talking stage over the past few months. it is not like they are that many, anyway.

you can try to tell each one of the people surrounding you that you are not interested in a relationship, that you think boys are fun to mess with but truly useless and that you are fine on your own— they never listen.

you successfully disappear amongst the crowd of diverse book, movie and game characters— and even … fruits? — costumes to get a drink. suddenly feeling very thirsty. 

no one notices you, too hang on debating on your love life when you are not even there to begin with.

pouring something into your glass, you feel someone standing a bit too close to you. 

“hey,” a voice greets you loudly. making your heart jump all the way to your stomach. 

you almost giggle as you turn around; a tall, grown man in a bright red hoodie, the same color as his joggings and a strawberry sort of hat wrapped around his head. 

his voice is way too deep to go with his costume.  

a smile tugs your lips, “hi.”

he smiles back. this time with a much much softer, he tells you back, “hi,” he eyes lingers on your face. “you come here often?”

you actually giggle at that, with your face falling towards the ground, with his face following yours, with his gaze never leaving you as he smirks. 

you cross one arm under your chest and plant your free arm’s elbow in your wrist, holding your drink close to your mouth, “please, don’t tell me that line has ever worked for you,” he chuckles at that, “i wouldn’t stand it.” 

the strawberry head shrugs, “tried and tested true for a reason,” then he leans his shoulder against the wall next to you. 

“what’s your name, bambi?” he asks you, biting down his lip as he smiles. 

the nickname comes from your doe makeup and the little tail on your skirt. looks like you are not the only one who makes nicknames. 

you respond while turning to face him, “what is yours?” 

“heeseung,” you admit it, ‘strawberry head’ will be missed but you like this one better. 

“it’s cute,” you nod and he laughs. 

“and yours isn’t?” he immediately says back. he rolls your name on his tongue, dear god . “it suits you well, i like it.”

you huff humoredly, “i will tell my parents you are a fan,” you don’t forget to emphasis on his name and hold your drink up, “heeseung.” 

“i hope i will be able to tell them myself one day,” he teases when you drink, making your choke. 

well, that was quite risky— although, still very smooth, you will give him that. 

your eyes wide and your mouth falls open is a surprised smile. your face must be funny because heeseung lets out a genuine laugh, that goes beyond the sound of the loud music. 

“take me to dinner first!” you tell him, while watching his body vibrate because of his laughter. 

the tall man gets serious pretty quickly after the words leave your mouth, he looks at you like he had you exactly where he wanted. 

“well,” he starts and his smirk is back again. “what about tonight?”

you can only blink at him for a moment. as if it was written on it; you scan his entire face in a hope of an answer. oh. 

“diner?” you ask, he hums. “tonight?” he hums again and your knees weaken a bit. “but we barely know each other!”

“we can get to!” his smile is more than evident in his voice, on his pink lips. “over diner!” 

he got you pressing your lips together and fighting back a smile like a highschool girl. the debate doesn’t take very long in your head, you just need to bite your inner cheek to get yourself to say it. 

strawberry head’s face is full of apprehension and enthusiasm, so much that you wonder who looks the most idiotic between the two of you. 

you sigh, then giggle, “fine, you convinced me.” 

the guy smiles. and after you successfully say goodbye to your friends while avoiding all their questions, everything gets wrapped pretty well. 

soon you stand a few meters away from heeseung’s means of transport.

“you have a bike,” you sound half impressed, half incredulous. 

heeseung, with his strawberry costume, has the audacity to look at you with an utterly shocked and offended expression splashed on his face. he even puts his hand on his heart. 

“am i not cool enough to have one?” he asks as he leans on his motorcycle. 

you take one step closer to him, letting your fingertips run through the leather seat. it is cool, very much so. him, despise his bright red ensemble, too. 

you chuckle, “it just doesn’t match your costume,” you confess and he chuckles. “you are like my very own james dean,” you turn your gaze back to him, “very cool to me.”

his look softens, his hand offered to you and helping you when you get on the passenger sit. he speaks again : 

“i promise to take care of you.” he whispers before letting your hand go gently. “i know a good restaurant a couple of blocks away.” you want to ask him if he doesn’t feel a bit ridiculous wearing this. “are you comfortable?

you thank your past self for choosing a black short instead of a skirt to wear with your black top and boots, “yeah,” you nod. “thank you.”

the wind runs through his hair when he takes off his strawberry head. it takes your breath away instantly. he was already beautiful before but now, this is something beyond and different. 

of course, his hair is pink.

“wouldn’t like to see it flying, would we?” he jokes and you only blink, eyes following him as he gets behind the bike and puts the strawberry in the box. he takes a helmet and comes back to you. 

he gets on the bike, so close to you when he turns around. 

your world completely collapse when he puts the helmet on your head for you, “i only got one,” he speaks, eyes focused on his fingers adjusting the helmet. “didn’t know a pretty girl like you would let me carry her around, you know?” 

thankfully, the tinted visor can hide your blushing face. and your stupid smile. halas— it can’t hide your giggles.

“i saw it in a dream of mine,” you respond when he turns around. you embrace his waist, “i knew the trajectory of you life would be changed tonight.” 

heeseung laughs again.

as he starts the engine you whisper in his ear, “is it the part where you tell me to hold on tight?” 

“i think you are doing that already, doll,” he taps your hand. 

and man, what a ride it was.

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

[theminecraftbee]

Cleo sits next to Scott, her head in her hands, and says—

—“I really thought it’d be different this time.” BigB sighs. He kicks his foot. Ren is, at least, a sympathetic ear. He understands these things, or at least he understands that it’s hard to be alone. “I mean, I know you don’t trust those guys…”

“I don’t,” agrees Ren.

“But they reached out, man. And I thought, well,”—

—“I could always bury the hatchet, you know?” Cleo says. “It’s been what, how many games? How many years? And I can recognize when I’m as much of the problem as someone else.”

“You had a reason to be a problem. I love that you’re a problem,” Scott says supportively. Pearl snorts in the corner.

“I’m good at being a problem!” Cleo says

“I know, you are,” Scott agrees.

“But it’s like—I don’t know. Maybe I was ready to be done being angry! Maybe I…”—

—“…just wanted a change.”

BigB is quiet. He lets the thought sit in the air. Ren, normally a man determined to fill silences, at least understands the value of a dramatic pause; he doesn’t say anything yet.

Martyn, however, has grown a bit more impatient over the sessions. "What kind of change? You two have been weird about each other for years."

BigB is quiet a moment more. "Did you know that—Ren, did you know that you were the first and last person to show me trust?"

"Uh, thank you, dude," Ren says.

"But like, the thing is, people, they stabbed us then, man. And it's just..."—

—"...he didn't have to! That's what gets me! He could have like... said anything to me? I don't ask much! I offered him my hand! I said, sure man. I'm gonna forgive you, just this once. We can try again. And he just—he tried to kill you! Why?"

"I mean, Scott is one of the people with the most lives," Impulse says reasonably. "And he didn't betray you."

"That's not how teams work, Impulse," Cleo says. "You can't just get rid of the teammate you don't like. The team is only as strong..."—

—"...as weak as it's component parts."

Ren and Martyn stare.

"Jesus, BigB," Martyn says.

BigB looks away. "Yeah, um, well. I don't think that's that stupid. It's not about you two, really. And this is a death game, right? I didn't attack her. It's just... I wasn't going to, really. I wasn't..."—

—"...he was going to, that's the thing. He's always going to do... this!"

"Maybe that's what you get for reaching out to a traitor," Scott says lightly.

Impulse looks away. Pearl snorts again. Cleo sighs.

"Look, I have a long memory, but if I let that decide everything I do forever it would eat me. And people have their reasons. Impulse, look Scott in the eyes, he's not even the reason you have that reputation. Pearl, you're a part of the team. That's the thing. People can change. People..."—

—"...can't change, really." BigB shrugs. "She should know better by now."

"Uh, dude, should we know better?" Ren asks.

"Nah. I mean, Martyn's worse than I am," BigB says cheerfully.

"Martyn," Ren says, sounding vaguely disappointed. Martyn crosses his arms.

"What? You're the one who said I had evil in me. If you take in a snake, you can't be mad if it bites you. If you take in a scorpion..."—

—"...you can hope it learns not to sting you. I don't know. Maybe it's just in his nature."

Pearl makes a strange noise. "And what's in my nature?"

Cleo sighs. She steps over and throws an arm around Pearl's shoulder.

"As long as you don't bite me? I'm willing to learn." Pearl leans into Cleo's arm slightly. Cleo can't help but wonder, some days, how much of the way she flinches back again is her fault. BigB isn't the only one that Cleo hopes can change his nature. Otherwise...

"I'm not actually a traitor, despite what everyone claims," Impulse says, apropos of nothing.

"You know, you should pick better friends," Scott says.

"Nah," Cleo says. She doesn't elaborate. She just—

—breathes. BigB just breathes.

"It was never going to work, anyway," he says.

"Sometimes I wonder if everyone broke while I wasn't looking," Ren says quietly, sadly. BigB has no answer for that.

[tswkento]

kind of arranged marriage au with gojo, where it is suddenly proposed during a big meeting that he attended out of pure convenience rather than his own desire and he is thoroughly disinterested in the idea until you come into the picture.

dragged into the room with two guards holding you up by your arms as you writhe in their hold, so bratty and feisty, unintentionally catching everyone’s attention as you curse the men by your sides — satoru finds your voice to be very familiar, but he can’t understand why because your hair is all over your face from your squirming.

and when you are not so gently put down on the floor, with your kimono in disarray while you are huffing and panting as you blow the strands of hair away from your face, satoru finally recognises you.

he watches as the guards let you go, cautiously watching you as you fix your kimono and smooth down your hair, and when an old lady approaches you they go away. some old man appears by his side, shakily introducing himself to satoru, but he completely ignores the man, still waiting for you to be alone to proceed. suddenly, this whole event becomes a lot more entertaining.

the old lady by your side points at the other side of the room and satoru follows her directions along with you — catching the sight of naoya zenin and the disgusted look you grant the lady before she whispers something into your and you direct your gaze at him.

the delight satoru feels at the sight of the death glare you send him is on another level. it is really you.

while he waits for the right moment, gojo takes in what the old man has been saying to him — apparently you were to be wedded either to him or to naoya, which could explain your previous interaction with the lady and the dirty look you gave the zenin guy.

the moment the old lady leaves you alone, satoru appears, languid steps approaching you as he shoves his hands in his pockets and bends forward, smirking down at you.

“oh i remember you. 2005, exhange event, fukuoka branch?”

you continue glaring at him, unwilling to dip into the memories he is sure he has brought back into your mind — your glossy lips twitch, though, so he knows you have a lot to say. he can tell you haven’t really changed from the first time he met you, but for some reason you are holding back now.

“haven’t changed, have you? the same bratty attitude, all bark and no bite.” he continues to rile you up, hoping that the condescending tone of his voice will bring something out of you. it seems to work because you hiss out a reply not even a moment later,

“and you’re still the same asshole, aren’t you?”

the sight of your balled fists, burning with potent cursed energy, makes his smirk grow, and he only chuckles.

“easy, tiger, we both know you are in no position to speak to me like that.”

your eyes widen at his words, feet taking you away from him as you gulp down whatever response you had in your mind. the fact that he has so much control over your life right here right now scares him just as much as it excites him, but the cruelty of his words is far bigger than what he has in mind.

at the end of the day, you are quite a pitiful sight.

he could just say ‘no’ and you will be basically sold to the zenin for your pretty face, very much aware of the tormenting you will be forced to go through to become a picture perfect wife for naoya. everyone knows that. you know that.

he looks down at your fists, seeing the unstable flickering of the energy around it, making him raise a wondering brow at that and causing you to hide your hands behind your back. your technique was something you were very proud of back then, and seeing you being self-conscious now was a confusing sight.

“what happened to being a sorcerer and all? did you give up so easily after your class lost that summer?”

you click your tongue at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you look around warily.

“i am forbidden from using my technique.”

“too bad at it?”

“no, asshole. i can’t work because i could hurt myself and it would be a liability to—” you close your mouth, a deep frown appearing on your forehead as you sigh. satoru, ever the patient, urges you,

“to what?”

you take a deep breath, covering your face with your palm, “to my reproductive system.”

oh. right. the clan heads are obsessed with him having an heir so it’s no wonder something like this even happened. though, satoru does feel pity brewing inside of him when he realises that you’ve been deprived of your life’s work and made to become something you clearly were not. he remembers your 16 year old self being very adamant on becoming the best of the best after losing to them for the nth time.

satoru makes a show of rubbing his chin, as if in deep thought, and then gasps, a wide smile appearing on his lips as he leans down to be on your eye level again.

“so, what do you think about becoming my wife?”

“everyone here knows that you don’t want to get married.” you glance at him in utter confusion, untrusting of his words.

satoru nods, smirking lazily, “i don’t. never said it’s gonna be a great marriage.” he takes a lock of your hair between his fingers, twirling it lightly while he continues, “it’s gonna save you, though.”

“what’s in it for you?”

“i get to save your day like the true hero i am and have the old geezers off my back,” he holds out his hand for you, an offer for you to take it and agree to this whole thing, “and you get to lead a semi-normal life with me. are you in or not?”

your eyes roam over his features before turning to the room full of people before you. everyone was staring at him and you, satoru already knew that, and as soon as you were to put your hand in his — chaos would ensue.

so you did. and thus, a different life started.

[unloved-cadillac]

Flashback. (Aizawa x Reader)

C/n: erm hi. Ehe.

——————————————————————————

Teaching was something you never considered a job. It was a honor to teach future generations and then see them use that knowledge to do good in the world. And that was exactly what you were doing now.

“So, you see? Physics is important when using your quirk. You can’t just go out there and do what you want. You need critical thinking and judgement before using it.” You say and lean on your teachers table. “Any q’s?”

The class shakes their heads and you smile. “Alright. Go to your last activity in your textbooks and read over the next section and attempt the questions.” The bell rings and the class begins to pack up. “That’s your homework.” Your class leaves and you sit in your chair when a student comes up to you. “Ma’am, are you okay?” She asks and you tilt your head. “I am, why?”

“Oh, it’s just because of your bruise.” She points to her neck showing you where it was and you quickly cover it with your hand. “Oh! Haha, yeah. Hair straightener.” You say, trying it let the nerves take over your voice and the girl smiles. “I know all about that. Aloe Vera helps with it. See you tomorrow.” She bids you goodbye as you walk her to the door. You close it before leaning against it. “Fuck.” You whisper and close your eyes.

~~~~

Your moans were like honey to his ears as fingers danced in you. He has you against his bedroom wall, his skin bare as yours as he toys with you. Your hands around his shoulders, gripping on them as you feel yourself reaching your point. His lips move to your neck, sucking and biting before pulling away and admiring his work.

~~~~

You groan as you open your eyes and make your way back to your desk. Thank god you had no class right now. You don’t how you’d ever concentrate. “Relax, Y/n. Relax.” You breathe in and out to calm your libido before diving your head into your next class prep. As your mind began to focus on your work, a knock is sounded on your door. “Come in.”

The man your mind was occupied with enters and greets you.

“I have some things I need you to double check.” He says and you take the papers from his hands. Yours come into contact with his and you look at the papers. “Oh, the kids’ tests. All looks good.” You say and look at him. He was staring intently, watching you work. “There’s more coming later today. Gonna need an extra hand with it.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Okay, my place or yours?” The question was asked so many times, normally and with his lips right by your ear. “Mine.” Is all he says before he leaves. Sighing, you lean back into your chair and cover your face with your hands.

~~~~

His hands move up from your waist to your bare neck, gently squeezing it. His large fingers wrapped around it making you softly gasp. “Sho.” You whispered as he thrusted deep into you, his face next to yours as his lips trailed by your ear. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

~~~~

“Sho.” You called and he looks at you with a hum before eyeing you page. “What is it?”

“This question. Doesn’t make sense. The kids won’t get it.” You mumble as you circled it with a red pen and looked at him. He reads it over and shit, it really didn’t make sense. “Oh. Good eye.” Is all he says before going on his computer and retyping the question. He could feel your eyes on him and your close proximity was driving him insane but he behaved and you both returned to doing your work in silence.

~~~~

Your hands were in his hair as you pulled it his head closer in between your legs. He loved your hands in his hair and he groaned as he complied to your silent request for more.

~~~~

Aizawa tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear as he looked over his class as they began to write. Arms crossed and leaning again his desk, he looked around at the kids then outside where he saw you walking out of your class, phone in hand before looking up and catching his eye. You smiled and gave him a wave and he swallowed. He wanted to wave back but his kids..the test..they’d see. He looked at the students before quietly walking to the door and stepping out for a second, beckoning you over.

You walked to him and stood behind the wall besides the door where the kids couldn’t see and looked up at him. “What’s up?”

“Come over tonight.”

You widened your eyes and looked around to see if anyone heard and thank god, no one was in the hallway. It wasn’t like him to just say things like this, especially at school. You looked back at him and nodded. “Alright. 8 okay?”

“6.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at him and nodded. “6 it is. See you then.” You whispered before turning and walking backwards to go to the staff room. Aizawa watched you turned around, his eyes trailing down to your ass and walk off and he groaned softly before heading back to invigilate.

~~~~

His hands kneaded the plush cheeks of your ass as he pounded into you and watched the way your back arched and muscles contracted under your skin. His torso was covered in a thin layer of sweat as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. “Fuck.” He groaned before slapping your ass hard and leaning down to press his chest to your back. His hand moved your hair before kissing and nipping your neck as he whispered. “Feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking good.” You could only moan in response as he moved deeper into you.

~~~~

Your legs were resting on his as you both sat on his couch, him reading and you watching TV. His hands involuntarily moved to your shin as he squeezed it, making you smile as your eyes remained on the movie that was playing. You slowly shifted your thighs together before looking at him, who was still engrossed in your book.

“Hey.” You nudged his book making it move and he looked at you. “Yeah?” You smiled before laying your head on the sofa and looked at his face. “Nothing.” He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back at his book, his fingers trailing on your shin, gently and softly. He couldn’t help the smirk that formed when he felt the goose flesh form on your skin when he trailed them higher. He felt your thighs slowly open and in an instant, his book was on the table and he was in between them, his lips kissing and biting your inner thighs while looking at you, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your chest heaved under your tank top.

“Damn tease.”

——————————————————————————

“Hey kids. How you been?”

🖤🖤Thanks for reading🖤🖤

-Caddy.

[jean-meowreau]

Ohhh maybe something jerejean for jeans birthday???? - @sirfatcat-mccatterson

Jeremy quietly clears his throat.

Jean grimaces and peeks open a single eye, directing all of his nastiness at Jeremy with one gray eye bursting with malice. "Quoi, Jérémy?" he asks, voice raspy with sleep. He shifts beneath his blanket onto his side, shivering and tucking the material up to his chin when it falls and exposes his chest.

He watches the blond nervously bite at his lip and shift on his feet. He sighs, and Jean closes his eyes to fall back asleep, when he hears, "Joyeaux Anniversaire," in shoddy French.

This time both eyes fly open to glare daggers at Jeremy. "Did you tell the others?"

"No. I know how you value your privacy," Jeremy says quietly, suddenly looking unsure of himself.

He sits up, wrapping the blanket tight around himself, before scowling as he asks, "How did you know? Was it Kevin?"

Jeremy shakes his head no. Jean perks his brow, prompting an answer.

"You remember that last weekend I went back to visit my family?"

"Yes," Jean grimaces. "You were very sad and quiet when you came back. It was annoying. I like your smile." Jeremy lights up at the words and Jean's scowl deepens. "Do not read into that."

"I'm illiterate!" Jeremy says quickly, and maybe a little too loud. He covers his mouth with his own hand on Jean's behalf.

"Why is your family important to this story?"

Jeremy shuffles around on his feet for a few seconds before quietly saying, "I have a trust fund."

"Okay?"

"And I am allowed to use my money however I want."

"Jeremy, you did not buy me something stupid, did you?"

"Well, I was going to buy you a car, and then as I was looking into transferring the title I found out you have a conservatorship and and anything I tried to give you would be automatically given to--"

"Do not say a name," Jean mutters. His voice is flat. He already knows. He does not wish to hear it aloud.

"So, I..." Jeremy shifts his weight between his feet a few more times before producing a file folder he'd been holding behind his back. He crosses the room and holds it out to Jean, who takes it while still glaring him down. "I bought... you."

Jean's face pales. He stares at the blank front of the manila folder, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind at once. He swallows thickly, fingers trembling as he picks at the edges of the folder. "You own me, now," he says quietly. Kevin said Jeremy was supposed to be good people. Maybe they had different definitions of what that meant.

"What? No, wait--" Jeremy laughs awkwardly. "Nobody owns you. I paid off your family's debt and you're a free man."

Jean furrows his brow, staring hard at the folder in his hands. "What is this?"

"Your medical history, birth certificate, and the deeds to some property in France and some property in West Virginia."

Jean frowns, picking at the corner of the folder. "Did they mention someone named Elodie?" he asks quietly.

"They said that's who the property is from. It's uhm-- it was a death transfer," Jeremy whispers.

Jean nods, staring still at the blank vaguely yellow paper holding every notation of his entire life up to this point. "I should thank you, shouldn't I?" he asks quietly.

Jeremy drops to his knees in front of where Jean is sitting at the edge of his bed, warm hands settling against his thighs right before his knees. "I don't want your gratitude. It's everything you deserve just to be yourself and live your life."

"Jeremy--"

"No. Your present will come later today. This just happened to be delivered this morning. Finish sleeping in and meet us downstairs for some protein pancakes and then we will go to the gym. Just you and me."

Jean nods shakily. "Can you ask if Cat will let me ride her bike?"

"You should ask her. She has something for you."

Jean narrows his eyes at Jeremy's smile. "You said you didn't tell anyone."

"I may be a liar. But it's only them - how else could I float a random pancake breakfast for you?"

"You're on thin ice," Jean mumbles. He reaches for the hem of Jeremy's shirt before he can leave the room, unable to make eye contact. But he tugs at the material twice before looking from the blond to the folder in his lap.

Jeremy smiles, taking the gratitude for what it was, before brushing his knuckles against Jean's cheekbone. "Anything for you." He doesn't tell Jean how pretty he looks flustered this way, much as he wants to. He instead leaves the room silently once he is released, smiling invitingly at Jean before he shuts the door.

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part five} 9.3k idk how don't ask me warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

“I can’t deal with you straight people,” Ryujin muttered between bites of her lunch.

Glaring down at your phone screen, you grit your teeth. “Excuse me?”

She was focused elsewhere, at her desk in the room you used to share. Flipping the page in a textbook, she shoveled chips into her mouth and spared you a glance. “My bad,” she laughed. “You people who like dicks.” She put her eyes back on her pages and you put yours on the bathroom mirror. In your own room for the first time in two weeks, you were doing your makeup, preparing yourself to go to the field. There was an actual game today, the boys were playing the Bulls, the team they lost the World Series to last season. “You and Aurora both,” Ryujin shook her head. “Stop being stupid.”

With the flick of your mascara wand you scoffed. “What happened with Aurora?”

“She thought Yunho got her pregnant,” Ryujin roared, leaning toward her phone at the same time as you, your wide eyes making her laugh. “I’m serious! And that’ll be you if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

Releasing a breath you glued your eyes back on the mirror. Sitting on the cold counter with your makeup a mess all around you, you swapped mascara for brow gel and fixed them up. “I was drunk the first time, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you mumbled. “And, now, it’s like he’s trying to make it happen.”

Ryujin curled her lip. “Gross,” she whispered. “You’ve only been together like, what, two weeks, right?”

“Yeah, but,” you started, voice trailing off as you finished your brows. Snapping the tube shut, you twisted it vigorously, looking down at her. “If you count the month before this one, and then the few months three years ago, and then the few months a few years before that…”

“It doesn’t count,” she said, scanning her book, or trying to. “Your relationship wasn’t official, you’ve been together two weeks and the man is trying to purposely impregnate you. Why?” When she lifted her eyes, you pouted. “Isla,” she said, twisting in her chair to face her camera.

Voice quiet, you shrugged. “I told him.”

“About?”

“Vernon,” you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap fiddling with the tube of clear brow gel. “He asked me that night, when I first called you. I told you what happened at dinner and after, right?” She nodded, gaze laser focused. “He asked me one more time, when I wasn’t drinking, and I was honest with him, I told him I thought I loved him.”

“Thought,” she sneered. “Oh god, Isla, what the fuck am I going to do with you?”

Tossing your hands out to the side the tube of gel went flying across the bathroom tile. “What was I supposed to say to him? That I still do? That having to watch Vernon play everyday makes it worse, makes it harder to ignore?”

Ryujin blinked. “Yes!”

“How!”

She pushed her bangs from her forehead and picked up her phone, sitting backward in her chair. “You be honest with him. It’s not fair for you to have feelings for someone else while you’re dating him, it doesn’t matter who he is. I guarantee you he’ll have another girlfriend in a few weeks if you break things off with him.”

“Ouch,” you mumbled, and she shot you a look. “I’m just saying!” Twirling on the counter you jumped off of it, taking yourself into your room to change. “It’s still Mingyu, Rio. He was the first boy to ever treat me like I wasn’t someone’s little sister.” Propping the phone up against the television, you dropped to your knees to throw open one of your suitcases.

“What if that’s why he wants you though?” Ryujin questioned, the words sending a chill over your skin.

“Don’t even say that,” you said, pulling out different tanks and crop tops from the piles in your luggage. “That would suck ass.”

“Just makes me think,” she continued, “Like, he’s always chasing you when you’re around, right? What did he do when you weren’t?” He serial dated other girls and broke things off with them before things went too far, a fact you both knew. “Exactly.”

“But, he’s in it when I’m here,” you said, attempting any counteraction to her words that didn’t make you feel fantastic. Standing up you stripped out of your sleep clothes and situated your outfit for the day. Ryujin disappeared from the screen until you were finished. “Like, really in it.”

“Yeah, and he’s still in you right now,” she said.

“Stop!” you whined, buttoning your baggy jeans.

“Isla,” Ryujin spoke with caution, appearing on the screen as you snatched the phone up. “You want Vernon. You always have. Before you even knew it, you wanted him.”

“He doesn’t want me,” you said quietly, a frown pulling at your glossed lips.

“Because he’s a good guy,” she said. “He’s not going to put himself between you and Mingyu, he’s gonna let you do what you want to do, and not for nothing, you hurt him pretty bad.”

“I know, you don’t have to keep saying it,” you whispered.

Ryujin took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I think whatever you did to him before he left is the reason he got called up.”

As much as you wanted to laugh, the thought of you and Vernon in the Nasara locker room together shoved a knife into your gut. “He did it himself,” you said. “They were planning it the whole time, DK told me.”

She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips. “Sure.” 

“He hasn’t tried to talk to me since that night,” you said, slipping into your shoes.

“Have you tried to talk to him since that night?” she asked.

The look you gave her made her laugh. “I can only… sit and watch him play. He won’t talk to me if I try, he basically told me to leave him alone anyways. Besides… if I try, it’s too scary.” Just the thought of walking up to him, even to say hi, it filled you with nerves. “So, I sit in the stands like I’m in high school and watch him play baseball while my boyfriend thinks I’m watching him.”

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that one to yourself again and again until it clicks, Jagi,” she said. Sitting forward, she messed with things on her desk and put the phone down, trying to get back into her work. “Try to enjoy the game, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, starting for the door.

“And, maybe,” she started, grabbing the phone one last time, “Maybe don’t go out and drink tonight? Spend time with your brother? Don’t let Mingyu take you anywhere.”

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping out into the hall after slinging your bag onto your elbow. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” she smiled. Then, right as you were both about to hang up, she shouted, “Condoms! Use them!” And you both hit the red button in fits of giggles.

People packed the field in thousands. For the first game of the spring training season, the Lions were against the very team who knocked them out of the playoffs, the two teams coming together for the first time since. Fueling your variety of nerves, the rivals against one another, seeing Vernon in the flesh, dealing with Mingyu, all those aside, the very thing eating you alive is the fact that Vernon is the only new player on the team. Brand new to the Lions, the big leagues, the MLB, a lot of pressure sat on this game, on him, even if all the eyes will be on the guys that lost it all.

Along the ride to the stadium you swiped in and out of your messages thread with him. The ‘v<3’ taunted you. Through the screen, messages from months ago, they kept you connected, the force or something, whatever it was they talked about in those Star Wars movies he liked to watch. He was anxious. He usually is before a game. No doubt this one would be worse than all others that have come before it.

Thumbs locked over the keyboard, the grey of his message sent in December staring at you, you sucked in a quick breath and held it as you typed. You typed fast, you wanted to close your eyes. Clenching your jaw you gulped and tapped the arrow, sending the message to him, letting the ‘remember to breathe’ get lost in the back of your worries as you stepped onto the concourse of the stadium buzzing with life. Different versions of Lions jerseys filled the space, raiding concessions, gathering water, buying more merchandise, especially the special edition spring training t-shirts. 

On your way through the crowds, thankfully with little people spotting you, at least a hundred Lee Dokyeom jerseys caught your eye, the big red number 38 below his name making you smile. It’d been his number since he started the sport, that same number belonged to your dad. DK swore he’d hold onto it forever, he was lucky when the Lions let him have it after the trade, 38 belonged to one of their veteran players who still came back regularly to visit the team. Your brother has met him before, the tension over the number being taken dissipated within seconds of them shaking hands, the man with greying hair letting the world know he was honored to have such a phenomenal, humble player take over his legacy.

Sincere, kind words your father wouldn’t even spout about his own son.

You wanted to hug every single person in the stadium wearing it.

Where there were red, exciting Lions jerseys, there were grey and blue striped Bulls jerseys, the colors themselves drab and dreadful. Ugliest blue in the league. Unfortunate that both teams were legends in the league, the turnout was a solid fifty fifty. To make matters worse, Bulls fans were assholes, and not in the cool way. Disrespectful, foul-mouthed, and trashy.

The man with the sunglasses and beer belly poking out of his Mark Lee jersey shouting, “Dirty drunk!,” as you passed by him and his family, who you assumed was his wife and two daughters, he proved your point. Trained to keep outside comments out, you did what you did best, held up a middle finger without turning around or giving him the time of day. He turned little heads, and the ones he did were of Lions fans who caught wind of you and were quick to come to your defense. His senseless grumbles of, “The team slut,” and, “Gold digger,” were lost on you.

You hoped.

Rounding more lines and exciting chatter, a young girl with big blue eyes grabbed you by the wrist, stopping your brisk walk toward the first base line. She had to have been about twelve or thirteen, the top of her head came up to your shoulder, her frizzy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Smiling, flashing her pink braces, she took a shaky breath.

“It is you,” she breathed, glancing to her left like she was looking for someone. “Moon Isla, right?” Her smile grew wider when you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said. Taking her in, a whopping four feet and eight inches tall, you smiled with her. 

“I knew it,” she nearly whispered, whipping her head side to side. “Mom?” she called out, waving frantically to a woman in a Lions jersey and jean shorts. The woman, just as tall as you, hurried to her side, glancing between you and her daughter. “It is her, I told you.”

“Oh my,” the woman sighed, giving you a once over. For a moment your stomach went sour, but then she opened her mouth. “She adores you,” she said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder. “DK is her favorite player. He was her dad’s favorite, he’s deployed right now,” the two shared a look, “We plan to come to as many games as we can, for him.”

“That’s amazing,” you said, folding your hands over your front. “What are your names?”

“Diana,” the girl was quick to call out, clasping her hands together with a bounce of her knees.

Chuckling, the woman extended a hand. “Lucia,” she said, shaking your hand gently. “She really does adore you, she’s always showing me what you wear when you post, she tries to make whatever coffee you share, the makeup you use…”

“Mom,” Diana said from behind her teeth, her eyes flickering at you.

Lucia tipped her head backward with a click of her tongue. “You inspire her. You and your brother, you’re both positive influences, I hope you know that.” Now your stomach flipped. It came out of her so easily, the lie, the words she seemed to believe. “Would you mind if she took a photo with you?”

Swallowing hard, you shook your head and forced a smile on your face. “Not at all, sure, let’s do it,” you half laughed, taking an arm around Diana’s back, the girl trying to stretch hers around your shoulder. 

You inspire her.

Positive influence.

Stuck on the things she said, Lucia, the mom of this young girl, Diana, only thirteen years old confirmed by the Instagram bio on her profile that popped up when she typed in her username for you. Sharing more with her, or rather, letting her talk to you, about her life, about school, about her friend drama, you did your best to give her advice you’ve heard from Ryujin and tapped the Follow button, positively making this little girl's day.

This thirteen year old who followed you, who was influenced by you and what you posted. Everything you’ve posted since you were her age flashed through your mind like a nightmare of a slideshow you were forced to watch, one you couldn’t stop. The amount of drunk stories you’ve posted, the language you used online, some of the outfits you’ve chosen to wear since that very young age because who cared, certainly not your mother or your father. Back at Nasara, the numerous times you posted videos of you and Ryujin dancing at the ATZ house before you swallowed each other's tongues on Instagram live. Many posts on your feed weren’t the greatest either. Grouped together with selfies and photo dumps were many questionable photos.

This girl had seen most of it, if not all of it.

“Keep being you,” Lucia said to you, laying a hand on your shoulder after her daughter squealed at her phone and tapped away. “Thank you.”

“Course.” Your voice was trapped in your throat. “Thank you. Enjoy the game.” With another smile she took her daughter in her arms and started to usher her away, the girl's nose lost in her phone. “Wait, Lucia,” you called out just as she turned around. Rushing to her side, Diana looking up at you with stars in her eyes, you asked, “Where are you sitting?”

“Oh, we’re up in the four hundreds,” she said. “All of these games are like sold out, it happened so fast.” 

Glancing from Diana to Lucia, you said, “Go to section one-oh-eight.” Lucia’s brows furrowed, Diana's eyes shot open wide. “I’m gonna make a phone call, go there, tell them your names and that DK only eats yellow starburst before every game. They’ll put you in the first row.”

“Oh my god,” Lucia gasped, throwing her arms around your back.

“He does?” Diana’s face screwed up as she watched you two.

“Thank you, thank you,” Lucia whispered, her hug easing a few cracks within you from somewhere you ignored. “It’s been so hard, I fought to get these tickets, oh my god, thank you, Isla.”

When she pulled away she placed a hand to your cheek, then the two were off and you pulled out your phone to do as you promised. Giving a call to one of your brother's security members, the one who monitored from the stands behind home plate, you let him know of Lucia and Diana’s arrival, leaving the rest up to him. The two would have a perfect view of DK on the mound from those seats.

Before slipping your phone back into your pocket you glanced at your messages.

Unread.

Maybe even unopened.

Possibly deleted.

At least you weren’t blocked.

Down on the field the people were equally as lively as the crowds filling the stands. News cameras, photographers, reporters, tons of familiar yet never before seen people rushing about the green grass and the dirt trying to get a moment with any of the players. Music played throughout the stadium, remixes of pop songs old and new keeping the good vibes in check.

Weaving through men in suits and women in high heels, hoping to avoid any and all interaction with every single one of them, you finally reached the dugout and ducked into it, flying down the stairs. 

“Moonie,” Woozi sang. Adjusting the buttons on his jersey, he held up a hand for you to slap.

“Hey,” you breathed, glancing around, finding his girlfriend with Joshua and Seungkwan. The three were talking, looking out onto the field at the massive amounts of people waiting for them. “Oh, good, thought I’d be the only girlfriend here.”

Woozi raised a brow, beginning to strap on his gear. “Half of our starting line is up on the other side of the field, with their wives,” he propped a leg up on the bench to fasten the gear around his shins. “Your boyfriend included.”

“Great,” you said, crossing your arms. Poking out your bottom lip you bobbed your head and looked out onto the field. 

Woozi laughed within a breath, switching his legs around. “You not gonna go find him?”

“Nah,” you said way too fast.

When he had both feet on the ground he reached for an arm guard and faced you entirely. “Why not?”

“Because,” you shrugged. Your brother's laugh rang from the opposite end of the dugout, your ears perking up at the sound of the contagious song. “I’m gonna go find DK,” you mumbled.

“Moonie,” Woozi stopped you before you wandered too far. “Everything okay?”

A vague question that deserved a vague answer. Having known Woozi for years, one of your brother's closest friends, anything said to him would go straight back to DK, even if you asked him not to say anything. Jihoon was Big Brother 2.0 in a sense, and though you were grateful for the dual lookout over you, he was DK’s secret agent.

“I’m fine,” you said, apparently unconvincingly with how his brows shifted. “I promise.”

Strapping the rest of his gear on, he walked in front of you, a tight smile on his lips. “I’ve known you since you were sixteen,” he said with a nod of his head, “You can’t lie.” Folding your arms over your chest, you clenched your jaw and took a breath. “Least not to me, you should know that,” he laughed. Tilting his head, the wispy strands of his black hair dancing over his forehead, he pursed his lips before he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered, shaking your head once. Tightening your fingers on your biceps he didn’t let it go unnoticed. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

Giving you a once over, releasing a sigh, he nodded his acceptance. “Okay. You know if you need anything, I”m here. You don’t just have Seokmin to rely on, okay?”

You answered him with a quick nod and the smallest smile, leaving him to finish preparing for the game before he joined his curvy girlfriend and his friends admiring the field. Taking yourself through the dugout, arms still tight over your chest, you breeze past the bench a level higher and closer to the field where several players sat in their jerseys, so uniform, so clean. Heads of wavy hair, mostly short now that the season was just starting, sat in a line, kicked back on the finished wood with their hats in their laps. By September their hair would be flowing, unmanageable curls, the baseball flow.

At the end of the bench, sat up straight, his legs stretched out in front of him, was your favorite head of curls. Loose brown waves that’d grow tighter as the months passed now that he promised off his haircut. Behind him, down on your level, stood your brother grinning a mile wide as he spoke with a man in all black. To talk to your brother meant you’d have to place yourself directly behind Vernon and the soft smile he wore while he listened to his teammates talk.

“Isla!”

Tearing your eyes away from the boy a foot or so above where you walked, you shot a wide eyed look at your brother. So much for trying to go into this incognito. Glancing up at Vernon, he didn’t look at you, but his smile vanished.

“Hey, Deeks,” you spoke quietly, trying to keep your conversation between you and your brother.

“I didn’t think you’d come down here,” he said, waving goodbye to the man he previously spoke with.

“I’m not here with anybody, so…”

“Right,” DK sighed, then caught himself, throwing up his hands, “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You smiled and shrugged, shaking your head. “It’s okay,” you whispered, sneaking a glance to your right. He hadn’t moved.

“I’m telling you, put Ryujin on a flight.” Stepping closer, he laid a hand on your shoulder. “Or, I’ll have someone book it. I’m so glad you’re talking to her again.”

Your fingertips pressed into your biceps again. “She’s got… school,” you muttered.

DK curled his lip. “She’s got life to live,” he said, and you smiled. “I’ve heard you talk about her before. Get her on a plane, Jagi.” Adjusting the cap on his head, he returned the smile and squeezed your shoulder. Just as he was about to walk away, jog up the stairs, and leave you for work, you latched onto his hand and pulled him closer to you. From your hands to your eyes his wide gaze traveled. “You… okay.” His quick acceptance and attention made you laugh.

“What are your plans later?”

DK opened his mouth and closed it twice, looking all over you for the butt of the joke. “Me?” He shook his head. “Mine?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

He glanced over your shoulder toward Woozi and his friends. “Uh, we’re going to go down Festa Street, there’s a… place that does Throwback Thursdays, we wanted to check it out.”

“Can I come with you?”

Holding his breath, he waited a second for a rebuttal. “Of course,” he sighed, giving your hand a squeeze. “I know I shouldn’t, uh, question why, but… You really want to come hang out with me and my friends?” 

The thought of doing anything else nauseated you.

“I do,” you said, and it deepened his smile. Like Woozi, that thing flashed in his eyes. He knew why you were asking. There was another question lingering closeby, a name hidden behind his teeth, one that forced you to mumble, “No.” He left it alone.

The name came bouncing down the dugout stairs anyhow, Hoshi and Minghao behind him with their wives on their hips, the girls dressed like they were worth millions of dollars. 

“There she is,” Mingyu called out, his arms spread open. Throwing them around you your hand fell out of DK’s grip, your brother taking a step backward. Pressing kisses to your cheek, Mingyu rocked you side to side. “Knew you wouldn’t miss my first game.” Grabbing onto his arms, you tried to put some space between you, maneuvering your head around to say hi to the other four.

DK had his eyes glued to Mingyu, a polite smile on his lips barely reaching his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to you, somehow avoiding the way you begged him with your eyes to get you out of this. 

You knew what he’d say, he could do so without actually saying it. You did this yourself. In the nicest, most DK way possible, he’d tell you that you did this yourself.

“What?” Mingyu sighed, pulling away from you, turning you by your shoulders to face him. His bright smile faded, and DK disappeared up the stairs. “What’s he mean tonight?”

Placing your hands over his, you said, “I’m gonna go out with him and his friends.”

“Tonight?” he asked, tone growing snarky.

“Yes.”

Throwing his eyes around him for a moment, he huffed a laugh and narrowed his gaze. “It’s the night of our first game, we’re celebrating, you don’t wanna come with me? Hoshi and Hao are ready to buy out Cheers.”

They’d fallen in love with that bar. Head over heels, all four of them. Other players would come and go each night, if you could remember, but Mingyu, Hoshi, Minghao… That became their spot. Over these last two weeks Cheers had started promoting their appearance, using their names to draw a crowd which packed the place more than it should be.

“I know,” you said, still aiming to speak above a whisper. “And, it sounds like so much fun, I always have fun there with you guys, but I haven’t seen DK in, like, two weeks.”

“He’s your brother, you can see him anytime you want,” he grumbled, brows falling over his eyes. Just as expected.

Pulling his hands off of you, you cradled them. “You steal me away,” you attempted a joke. He didn’t find it funny. “One night with DK. Please?”

A sigh fell from him as he tipped his chin back. “Better find you in my room when you come back.”

A booming voice sounded over the speakers, filling the entire stadium with cheers and shouts as the sportscaster announced the starting lineups for each team. DK had his name called first and chills rolled down your spine. Every person in the place with a viable voice made some sort of noise. You couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face.

That would never get old.

Mingyu squished your cheeks together and pulled you in for a kiss. “Are you behind home?”

“No,” you said, and he frowned. “I gave my tickets to a mom and a daughter I met on the way down here. They’re huge DK fans, and I think life hasn’t been nice to them recently. Think I’ll go to the suite with Daya and Halle.”

A grin broke onto his lips. “Perfect,” he whispered, kissing you once more before he let you go to follow the girls out of the dugout, onto the field, and up into the stands.

A drink sat on the table in front of you, the melted ice leaving a puddle in its wake as you took the straw between your lips. Seated in a booth against a wall, DK sat beside you, leaning over the glossed chestnut wood to talk to Woozi at the end of the table on your other side. His girlfriend Melody sat across from you, their hands intertwined on top of the table. Her long, sleek black hair fell down her back over her denim jacket with the number 22 patched onto the front pocket. A lot of the girls had niche clothes like this, their boy's numbers or their names stitched or plastered onto it somehow. 

You stuck to the normal merch, cutting it with the help of one of your stylists back home, having her stitch the pieces together to create something that seemed original. The numbers of your brother or your boyfriend never made it onto the pieces, but you did own several DK jerseys, snatching up every version created since he played for the Cyclones. 

Once upon a time you dreamed of wearing a boyfriend's number like the other girls. Ever since you were a teenager, seeing Jihyo wear Jun’s number and his name, small businesses creating and gifting her original pieces with their family name on it, commemorating Jun and his legacy, you wanted it too. 

But, not in the WAG way.

Never in the WAG way.

Sitting here at the table, staring at the red 22 and their hands together, you weren’t really sure in what way you meant. Lifting your chin, meeting her dark eyes, you leaned forward onto your elbows and asked, “Melody, what do you do?” The conversation amongst the guys silenced. This girl was fairly new. Woozi dated here and there throughout your years of knowing him, but since your years at Nasara, Melody had been somewhat of a secret. DK told you in confidence one night on his living room couch, the two of you buried in big blankets watching movies, Woozi wanted to marry her.

Three years together, having only shown her face to the public in the last few months, they were in it for the long haul. This season will be a test, DK told you. Melody, a quieter personality, she wasn’t used to attention like this in the slightest. If they made it through the summer he was going to ask her to be his wife.

“I’m a casting director,” she said with a smile. Her porcelain skin complimented her darker features beautifully. She glanced at Woozi with a shy shrug. “Well, aspiring, I guess.”

He drug his thumb over the back of her hand and nodded. “And you’re doing a great job,” he said to her. 

Looking back at you, blush evident on her cheeks, she said, “Right now I’m the assistant to a casting director of a… pretty big company,” she chose her words carefully, darting her eyes between you and DK who listened to her talk with a small smile. There were things she couldn’t reveal, you caught on quick, but your brother definitely knew the hidden facts. “We’re gearing up to start a project real soon, so this is like a vacation for me.”

Tilting your head, you studied her, sharing a look with the pretty girl where she told you exactly what you wanted to find out. Whipping your head around, wide eyed as you looked at your brother, he laughed and slapped a hand to your shoulder.

“Yes,” he laughed through his words. “Exactly what you’re thinking, yes.” Facing the couple, he said, “She doesn’t keep up with our mom so much right now-”

“As if you do,” you sneered, cutting him off.

DK shot you a look. “I do when my friends start to work for her.”

Woozi and Melody smiled at one another, letting you siblings bicker in peace.

“And the last time you called her? Was when?”

DK rolled his eyes. “Whatever, she can call me too, yanno.”

There was a subtle shift in energy, one you both felt and ignored, but acknowledged. The, the phone works both ways, argument.

You faced Melody who waited with patience. “That’s so cool,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do you love it? Your job?”

“I do,” she said. Jihoon looked over her with pride, a sort of proudness for his girlfriend, his successful, hardworking girlfriend who had a name for herself elsewhere instead of just being someone's girlfriend. Some baseball players girlfriend. “Took me years to get here. I’m still not where I want to be, but I’m willing to pay my dues. Any experience is good experience, and I want it all.”

DK glanced at you, one you didn’t return.

“How do you… How do you balance… this?” Gesturing toward their hands, you held DK in your peripheral praying to a god you weren’t sure you believed in that he would keep his mouth shut. 

The couple shared something between them, their grip on one another tightening.

“Patience,” Melody said.

“Understanding,” Woozi smiled, making her smile.

“Communication,” Melody whispered.

Your cheeks warmed, their love radiated louder the longer they stared at each other. 

“Some days it’s a lot of work,” Woozi said, looking at you, and you wondered if he could read your mind. “When you both want it, it’s worth it.”

“There’s definitely hard days, weeks even, but- Oh, trust,” she said, looking amongst you all, “Forgot to add that in there, too. That one’s huge. When he gets on the road and I’m at home stuck in my office, or if I’m on trips and he’s in the middle of the off season…”

The idea of your parents popped into your mind while she spoke. Your mother, home and glued to her books or her editor or her publishing company, your father, on the road, out and about with his team and other women. Scandals were endless, your father on the front page with a girl that wasn’t your mother on his hip each time he played a series in another part of the country. It wasn’t all his fault though, your mother’s editor spent a lot of time at your house, spending time with you and DK barely old enough to realize what was going on. He’d spend nights there, he’d cook for you, he’d take you and your brother in the pool if your mother was stuck behind one of her screens.

Now that your father was retired and your mothers career was set in legendary status, the two were inseparable, as if nothing had ever happened, leaving you and DK to pick up the brunt of the messes they’ve made. Every now and again the media caught you with questions regarding their past, of whether or not they were going to stay married, if they worked through their problems, if you and DK shared a father. It was all a mess, and as long as you live you’ll never forgive them for leaving you and DK to pick up the pieces. Neither of them addressed the questions, nor the way their children were harassed by the public regarding their relationship and their past.

It’s why you took up the surname Moon, just to fuck with them. Questions of why, something you’ll never entertain.

With Woozi and Melody at this table, talking to each other with such care, such understanding, it warmed your heart. It reminded you that real, genuine love existed. 

You peeked over at a table not far from yours. Seungkwan and Joshua sat with a few bench players, but across from the blonde, leaning over the table with a smile on his face was Vernon. He made player of the game, the Lions social media blew his face up as soon as the game was over, and all throughout each inning they posted his highlights. The game had been crazy, like he’d been a part of the team all along, his chemistry mixing right in with everyone else's.

He deserved the praise, the attention, even though you knew he wouldn’t accept it, even if it looked like he was. Today had been enough to fuel someone's ego for life, set a standard for them for the years to come, but not Vernon. If it had been anyone else, like it had been in the past, you’d never hear the end of it, and come to think of it, you don’t.

His follower count grew in record time. The Lions fans welcomed him in with loving arms. Sure enough, maybe even by tomorrow, the stands would be full of jerseys with his name on it.

DK slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Go talk to him,” he whispered, and you shivered.

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed and looked down at the table. Grabbing your drink, you sucked it down faster, your brother watching.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

You nearly choked on the liquor going down your throat. “He could ignore me, and embarrass me in front of your friends.”

DK glanced at that table. “Kwan and Shua are your friends too, just so you know.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, sliding the glass over the table. “I’m gonna go to the bar, does anybody want anything?”

“We’re good,” Woozi said, exchanging glances with Melody. Your brother pressed his lips together as you stood up, smoothing your hands over your jeans.

“Anything?” you asked, tone short.

He smiled. “No thanks,” he said with a head shake. “Come back, okay?”

Stepping away, you nodded at him without verbally expressing anything. Seungkwan looked up as you passed by their table. He glanced at DK and slid out of his seat, hurrying over for your brother, jumping into the spot you left vacant.

Pulling your phone from your pocket to distract yourself as you weaved through the people crowding the tight space, a groan leaked from your lips without you even knowing. Your screen was lit up with several notifications, none of which you wanted.

[thirteen<3]: I miss you already

[thirteen<3]: Daya and Hoshi keep buying rounds of tequila shots, do I keep going or are you coming here?

[thirteen<3]: Damn I don’t get to see you and you won’t answer me either

[thirteen<3]: what did I do to deserve this???

[thirteen<3]: Kidding btw, I just miss you.

There were several stories posted from the game today, Vernon’s name in nearly every headline taunting you. Scrolling through a couple as you hopped onto a barstool, you screenshotted the ones that threatened to make you smile. Ones you wanted to save. Ones you wanted to send to him even though he’d probably already seen them.

[thirteen<3]: You read my messages, I know your there

Taking a deep breath, you ordered a cocktail from the woman behind the bar and typed away.

[you:] I’m here. Are you having fun?

[thirteen<3]: Would be if you were here

[thirteen<3]: Daya keeps requesting awful songs

[you]: Where’s Hoshi?

Thanking the woman as she placed the glass in front of you with a smile, you brought the straw to your lips and let the sweetness coat your tongue.

[thirteen<3]: He’s here somewhere, i dont know

[thirteen<3]: He doesnt like to dance

[you]: Who are you dancing with

[thirteen<3]: Daya!!

You pushed a laugh through your nose, drinking from your straw even faster. Bubbles appeared and disappeared several times, and then a photo popped up. In the middle of a crowded dance floor, the one in Cheers, Mingyu held the phone up over his head giving you a near birds eye view of just how close he and Daya were on the dance floor together. She smiled up at the camera, her eyes closed, her white teeth shining. With both hands she flipped the bird while Mingyu pulled his infamous lip curl, one eye closed with a peace sign.

Unsure whether or not she was stupid, or just didn’t care what she was doing, you gave the photo a heart, then locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket. 

“Another?” the woman asked, appearing in front of you with her cute customer service smile. Nodding, you pushed your glass closer to her.

“Please,” you mumbled.

He could dance with Daya, that was fine. They could unknowingly flirt with one another, sure. If Daya was doing what you thought she was doing, something would happen tonight, while you weren’t there.

It all clicked at once.

“You Isla?” a man asked from behind you, placing himself at your side. Giving him a look, tanned skin and a Lions hat, you nodded. “I thought so, you’re DK’s sister, right?”

“It is her?” Another voice made itself known to your left, wedging between the barstools to lean against the bar. Both men reeked of booze, their words stumbling together as they spoke. “Shit, I didn’t think we’d ever find you.”

“You were looking for me?” you questioned, thanking the bartender with a smile as she brought you another drink. Taking it from the bar quickly you placed your hand over the top and the straw between your fingers. 

The man to your right laughed. “Not looking, but like, we thought we wouldn’t run into you, at least alone.”

You lowered your brows, willing away your own intoxication. “Alone?”

“Without Mingyu,” the man on your left blurted out.

Looking between the two of them, the way they learned on the bar, the way they stared at you, you made a face. “My brother is here, so is half of his team, I’m not alone.”

The one in the hat glanced around you obnoxiously with a smirk. “You look pretty alone to me.”

“What do you want?” You grit your teeth, and he bit his lip. 

“Just wanna talk to you,” he said, sharing a look with his friend whose laugh chilled your spine. “Can we buy you a drink? Not much you don’t like, want us to surprise you?”

Usually, in situations like this one, you could handle yourself, but the vibe these two gave off, it was one you did not like. You brought your straw to your lips and shook your head. “I’m good. Thanks.” 

The one in the hat groaned, tapping your arm with his elbow. He was clearly the leader of this operation. “Come on, just one, we want to. We’re big fans, we don’t want anything weird, I promise.” 

“Promise,” his friend to your left reiterated, attempting a reassuring nod of his head. “We just wanna show our appreciation.”

You raised a brow. “For?” He gestured to you, all of you, head to toe, then added the rest of the team quickly. “Okay,” you said, sighing harshly. “One drink.”

One led to five fast.

Before you knew it you were laughing with them, knocking back shots other guys bought for you. You acquired a following, shadows hanging around you looking for your attention. The one in the hat, the first one to approach you, he got comfortable, feeling some sort of seniority for finding you first. His arm ended up around you at some point as guy after guy came up to you shamelessly flirting, saying things you couldn’t quite comprehend, but knew you wouldn’t like if you were sober.

“You want me to tell ‘em all to leave?” the man in the hat whispered in your ear, his arm around you while another guy stood in front of you. Blinking, everything dizzy, you looked up at him, eyebrows squeezing together in the center of your forehead.

“And, what?” you asked, squinting. “Leave me here with who, you?”

A laugh pushed through his lips, his gaze scattering elsewhere. “I mean, they’re not bothering you?”

Taking your time, you looked over every single one of them, their heads tipped up, nonsense spewing from their lips. One big competition of who could be the loudest, the most obnoxious. Not one compared to a single guy on your brother's baseball team, they were all trashy Haos tourists.

You looked up at Hat Man. “I’d definitely prefer it if you were all women.”

“Oh shit,” his eyes lit up, “You’re into that?”

You finished the drink in your hand and placed it on the bar. “It’s not a kink.”

“It is for me,” he smirked and you cringed.

“Leave,” you almost shouted, trying to stand up. His arm around you kept you on the stool.

“No, wait, wait,” his laugh made your skin crawl. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean it’s cool if you’re, you know, bi, or whatever, right? That’s what you are?” You tried to stand again, but he moved in front of you, your knees pressing to his thighs. “It’s okay, I’m sure there’s a girl in here somewhere, want me to look?”

Tapping his chest with a finger in a weak attempt to move him, you looked up at him in utter disgust. “She’d be more likely to agree to me, with me. And we’d leave you, because you are not it.”

His face fell, an anger replacing anything else he was feeling. “What the fuck?” he muttered, his grip tightening on your shoulders. “This whole time I thought you were feeling this,” he said. You shook your head. “You fucking bitch,” he snickered, giving you a slight shake. Fear sparked within you, your eyes going wide. “That’s what you are, you know that right? I’m over here acting all nice, but you really are what they say you are. A fucking bitch.”

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

The voice, one full of rage that made it so deep, it brought tears to your eyes.

The man in the hat laughed aloud, pulled back, turned around and withheld his gasp, but the way his eyes widened expressed his shock. His face, patient, completely straight, stared back at him, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Tearing his eyes off the man, he looked at you and the tears slipped down your cheeks.

“She belong to you?” the man asked, venom in his voice, trying to regain any sort of traction, any sort of fight. “You know what she’s been over here doing?”

Vernon ignored him. Keeping his eyes on you he wrapped an arm around your back and helped you off the stool, catching you as you stumbled into his hold. Nerves infected your veins, this close to him, looking up at him, feeling him, touching him, smelling him, all of it. He was the same as he’s ever been, as comforting as he’s been since the first day you met him. And he held you the same, muscle memory. 

“Let’s go,” he said to you, pushing the guy out of the way, reaching up to knock the Lions hat off of his head before he pushed by anyone else.

“She’s a slut, new kid!” he shouted after the two of you. “Nothing but a bitch!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Vernon muttered, guiding you through the bar, through the crowds to the door. Pushing it open to more crowds, new crowds to gawk at you, he walked you over to a black car and placed you by the passenger door. Pulling it open, he moved you inside with a light tap to your back. Flashes lit up from the tables and people by the door to the bar behind you, flashes he sighed at. You turned to look, but his hand on his shoulder aided in gently putting you in the car. “Don’t,” he whispered, “Leave them alone.”

He pushed the door shut once you were seated, the car brand new, smelling fresh and like leather. It was way smaller than anything your brother owned, but it was clean, and definitely expensive. Laying your head back on the headrest, your world spun, forcing you to take deep breaths into your stomach. Wiping your eyes, your cheeks, you looked out the windows for Vernon. On the phone he wandered around the front of the car, glancing at you occasionally, his mouth moving a mile a minute.

Your heart sunk into your gut. He looked good. Different, but good. Instead of a t-shirt he wore a black button down, half of it tucked into his black jeans that hugged his thighs. A leather belt strapped around his waist complimented the same chain that hung around his neck, one you remembered once brushed over your nose. That night in the locker room, the only night you ever shared with him. It was enough to ruin you entirely, nothing would ever be as satisfying, as fulfilling. 

He got into the driver's seat, his phone dropping into his lap with the release of a breath. Looking at you once, he pulled his door shut and laid his head backward. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Yeah,” you whispered, half conscious of what was coming out of your mouth. Pulling your feet up on the seats, you wrapped your arms around your knees and focused forward through the tinted windshield. “Sorry.”

Silence surrounded you. A sound that once went unnoticed between you, something that didn’t need to be addressed, something you both understood. It held a different semblance now, full of questions unanswered, feelings unknown.

You didn’t want to, but you cried. Since you saw his face, you couldn’t stop.

“Isla, you’re okay,” he said, frozen where he sat. “Those guys were assholes, you know that. When have you ever let a guy get to you like this?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Sucking in a breath, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He turned his head, a look you couldn’t reciprocate.

“Why?”

“You always have to take care of me,” you gasped, burying your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You wondered if he knew half of your apologies were aimed at September. And, December. And, two weeks ago.

He took a breath. “I wasn’t gonna leave you with those assholes.”

“But, you hate me,” you whispered, and he moved himself around entirely, facing you where he sat.

“When did I ever say that?” Taking your hands away, you found him looking at you like you had grown a second head. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” you said. “It was… implied.”

Vernon shut his eyes for a few seconds. “Isla, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t talk to me,” you whispered. “You don’t want to talk to me, you don’t want anything to do with me.” Opening his eyes, the look on his face hurt your heart. “You’re all I can think about, you’re all I’ve been able to think about, for a really, really long time.”

Taking his lip between his teeth, he averted his eyes elsewhere and gathered his thoughts. “I did not want to have this conversation like this, you’re drunk.”

Tears fell from your eyes. “I’m always drunk. Why?”

His eyes softened as they met yours. “Is that rhetorical?” Laying your head down on your knees, you shook your head, your lips trembling. “What were you trying to forget about tonight?”  The answer popped in your head immediately, but you didn’t want to say it, not to him. You forgot he was able to read your mind. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Mingyu,” you whispered on command. The self awareness he had to not make a face continued to impress you. “The thought of you not wanting me.”

He wrapped a hand around the steering wheel and stared at it. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Isla,” he said under his breath. “I’ll always want you.” A breath shot through you. He turned his chin toward you. “I love you, and unfortunately I think no matter what you do, I always will.” Twisting in your seat you watched as he moved himself backward, like he was expecting you to reach for him. “As soon as I heard you were with your brother I thought you were finally gonna have some peace, but these kinds of people keep finding you. They know what to use against you to get what they want, and it kills me ‘cause I know you’re smarter than this.”

“If I am then why does it keep happening?”

A small smile hit his lips for a millisecond. “A lot of things,” he mumbled. “We grew up differently, I could start there.”

Your stomach took a tumble. “Dont,” you whispered, and he bobbed his head.

“Exactly, see, you already know it,” he said. “You got to a point when we were at Nasara, where you were so sick of it, you knew what you had to do. At least, that’s what I thought had happened when you left and Aurora told me you were with DK. Even those first few weeks when you didn’t answer me, I just kept thinking, this is it, he’s gonna help her, get her help. I didn’t need a response, I know you, Iya,” the slip of the nickname triggered the tears, “You would answer me when you were ready, and I really didn’t know where you were, so if you were somewhere,” he tilted his head at the same time like he couldn’t bring himself to say the word rehab, “I figured you’d answer me when it was over, but…”

New Years happened. Photos of you and Mingyu locking lips hit the internet, and no, you weren’t getting help, you latched yourself onto the very opposite.

Vernon knew it too with the way he looked at you now. 

“V,” you whispered, and the softest smile graced his lips.

“What were you trying to forget?”

A shaky breath ripped through your lungs, the tears staining your cheeks coming to a standstill. Shaking your head, nibbling your lips, you whispered, “You.”

“Why?” he asked, voice pure, the question genuine, ripped from his brain and thrown into your face. Not a thought formed, the best you could do was plead with him with your eyes. “Isla, I thought there was something between us.”

“There was,” you said. “There is.”

He tried his best to not scoff in your face, but it happened anyway. “Then why ignore me? Why push me away? I fell in love with you, and you vanished.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered. Jaw ajar, midthought, Vernon blinked a few times and stared at you. Snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenched as he looked away. “I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again.”

He almost broke his neck with how fast he looked at you. “Isla, you could’ve answered the phone and found out.”

“I know,” you nearly shouted, screwing your face up. “I was scared, I was trying to ignore everything, DK was on me, he did want me to go somewhere but I wouldn’t, and I tried therapy, and I tried outpatient shit, but it sucked, and then Mingyu came back ‘cause he knew I was around, and it’s all a mess from there. The shit from Nasara stuck with me, I thought it wouldn’t fuck me up that bad, but it’s like… a problem.”

Your heart lodged into your throat. He had reached over and wrapped a hand around your wrist.

“Okay,” he breathed, encouraging you to breathe with him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me, I told you, Isla, I know you.” You were both paralyzed in place. “It’s okay to need help, it’s okay to admit that you need help. And, because I know you, I know that it’s gonna make you want to run away somewhere else, but you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he said, giving your wrist a gentle shake. “I wanna record you saying that so tomorrow you can’t deny it.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow?”

He smiled. “I have wanted to talk to you every single day,” he let go of your wrist and settled back into his side of the car. “But, you have a… boyfriend. I don’t think he likes me, by the way.”

Shying away, you mumbled, “I told him we fucked.”

Not an infliction on his face. “Hm,” he hummed, glancing out the windshield, “Is that what we did?” When he looked back at you and your sappy eyes, you shook your head. “Explains why he looks at me the way he does.”

“He doesn’t like DK either,” you said, and Vernon went stoic. “He won’t talk to him, DK tries, but Mingyu avoids him.”

“Seems about right,” Vernon muttered. Questioning him with a brow, he said, “Why would a guy who’s trying to manipulate you into what he wants associate himself with people who want what's best for you?”

Groaning, burying your face back in your hands, you said, “You sound like Ryujin.”

Vernon smiled. “I know.”

You never looked at him faster. “What?”

“She’s my friend too, Iya,” he breathed through a laugh. “I don’t hear details, don’t worry, but I hear enough to know that your little relationship thing is not good for you.”

“Why would she tell you anything!?”

He shrugged, fingers tapping the steering wheel. Shifting in his seat, looking away from you, he said, “She wants us together.”

A chill breezed over your skin. Brushing your hands over the bumps you sat backward and lowered your chin, waiting for him to meet your eyes. When he did, you whispered, “I do, too.”

Pulling into a lazy smile, his lips parted, and he whispered, “Me too.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hey there, ‘s me <3 so, my first request will be for a story in a shell 🦪 for mattheo, with the "exes to lovers" trope i’ve been obsessed with lately, and the song will be sabrina’s good graces that i’ve been listening to pretty much ever since the release. i think it would be cute with the trope. thanks in advance 💘

Hey there me, it's Ivy! ⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)づ (sorry that was a terrible joke; I think it's my dad's influence) Anyways, thank you so much for requesting, honey (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) And yes I had good graces playing on loop the whole time I was writing it (๑ > ᴗ < ๑)

ivy's 1k celebration 🦪 navigation 🦪 characters

ˋ°•*⁀➷ MATTHEO RIDDLE exes to lovers with good graces by sabrina carpenter

The party was in full swing, voices buzzing and music thrumming through the walls. You could feel eyes on you, not the least of which belonged to Mattheo Riddle from across the room. Every so often, you’d look his way, meeting his gaze with a taunting smirk before turning your attention back to Theo, who was by your side, grinning like he knew exactly what kind of game you were playing.

The sound of laughter bubbled up as you leaned in closer to Theo, trailing a finger down his arm and smiling sweetly. “You know, I think you might actually be my favorite person tonight, Theo.”

His laugh was smooth, leaning closer to match your energy. “Glad to hear it. Though I can’t say that’s everyone’s opinion tonight.”

You knew who he was talking about but before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

“Interesting, isn’t it?” Mattheo’s tone was laced with a mix of annoyance and a bit of jealousy as he looked between you and Theo, his jaw tight. “Didn’t know you’d be here, Theo.”

Theo just raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Hey, it’s a party, man. She invited me, didn’t she?”

You turned to Mattheo, one brow raised as you toyed with the rim of your glass, letting the tension settle thick around you. “Jealous, Riddle?”

His lips curved into a smirk, though his gaze was anything but amused. “Only if I thought there was anything real going on here.”

“Oh?” You leaned in closer, voice dropping, making sure only he could hear you. “Guess you should have stayed in my good graces, huh?”

A flicker of irritation crossed his face, but he didn’t back down. “Funny, coming from someone who used to be ‘sweet like an angel,’ as if you’d do anything for me.”

You shrugged, giving him a slow, infuriating smile. “I am still 'sweet like an angel', Mattheo. But I don’t waste that and my time on people who don’t deserve it, sweetheart. Besides, there are plenty of other guys who appreciate my attention. Like Theo here,” you added with a pointed look, making sure he caught your meaning.

His jaw tightened, his voice dropping lower as he took a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “You think this is funny? Trying to make me jealous?”

“Why would I care what you think?” You whispered, just close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin. “Trust me, darling, I don’t give a fuck about you. Not anymore.”

There was a spark of something dark and hungry in his eyes as he leaned in even closer, his lips just barely grazing your ear. “Then why are you still here, talking to me?”

“Who says I’m here for you?” you countered, your voice all bite, but your heart was thudding as you took in every feature of his face. “You’re the one who keeps showing up, trying to ruin my fun.”

“Oh, is that what I’m doing?” he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but his hand lingered near yours, fingers almost touching. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re really over it.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let him see you falter. “I’m over you, Mattheo,” you whispered fiercely, lips brushing against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

His eyes darkened, a wicked smirk twisting his lips as he looked at you, clearly unfazed. “You really want me to believe that?”

“Believe whatever you want,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “It’s not my problem if you’re still caught up on something that’s long gone. Just don’t expect me to sit around waiting for you to get it together.”

A dangerous glint sparked in his gaze, that familiar cockiness slipping back into place as he edged closer, eyes boring into yours. “You don’t waste time, huh? Right. So that’s why you’re here, standing in front of me, talking like you care about every word I’m saying.”

Your breath hitched for just a second before you steeled yourself, stepping back. “Don't mistake my nice for naïve, Riddle, I’m done. So unless you’re here to show me something real, you can find someone else to play your games with.”

He just stared at you, frustration flickering across his features as he tried to find the words. “Maybe I don’t know what to say. But maybe I’ll figure it out.”

For the first time that night, you let a little softness creep into your tone, though you didn’t let him see any hint of weakness. “Yeah? I guess we’ll see.”

You turned, disappearing back into the crowd, leaving him standing there, the mix of frustration and longing plain on his face.

The night dragged on, tension simmering between you and Mattheo like fire, every glance, every shared look, a new unspoken challenge.

Eventually, you stepped out into the night, the cool air biting at your skin. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of Mattheo’s words—and the way they still made your heart race.

You’d barely gotten two steps outside before you heard him again, his voice unmistakable. “Leaving so soon?”

You didn’t turn, knowing he was already close behind. “And if I am?”

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a thrill down your spine. “You don’t have to play coy with me. You and I both know there’s unfinished business.”

Turning slowly, you met his gaze, refusing to let him see the conflict raging inside you. “You keep talking, but I don’t see any actions, Mattheo. You don’t get to act like you care after all this time.”

He stepped forward, his face a perfect mask of intensity. “You’re right. I don’t deserve it. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

The air between you was thick, every word charged with the weight of old feelings. You fought to keep your voice steady, refusing to give him any satisfaction. “Then maybe it’s time for you to stop waiting around. If you think you deserve my time, prove it.”

There was a flicker of determination in his eyes, his hands reaching out to cup your face. You froze, feeling every inch of distance between you vanish in an instant. He looked down at you, his voice low and hoarse. “Then let me prove it.”

The seconds dragged on, tension thick and consuming as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as intense as it was inevitable. You gave in, matching his fervour, the unresolved anger and passion spilling into each kiss, each lingering touch.

Finally, you broke away, breathless, heart pounding as you met his gaze with a knowing smirk. “Stay in my good graces, Mattheo. Or I’ll walk out of your life and never look back.”

His gaze softened, a smirk of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t intend to mess this up again.”

For once, you let your guard down, allowing a touch of vulnerability to show as you looked up at him. “Good. Because I don’t give second chances.”

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face, his eyes warm and full of promise. “Then I guess I’ll just have to make it count.”

And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, he was ready to do exactly that.

[neon-kazoo]

Two steps.

That’s how close Hero was to the door when it slammed shut behind them. They were frozen, staring in shock at the figure resting causally in a high-back chair.

Villain was settled right in the center of the room they had just entered.

The loud thud and the softer click of the lock is what finally snapped Hero out of their statuesque state. Unfortunately, by then, it was far too late to flee. That left ‘fight’ on the list of appropriate reactions to this situation, but Hero’s weapon felt like plastic cutlery in their hand.

Against him, it would never be enough.

They raised it anyway, hands trembling visibly as they pointed it towards the man with one leg crossed over the other.

“I’d drop that, if I were you,” he drawled, drumming his fingers over what appeared to be a remote and flicking his eyes up over the hero’s head.

Slowly, Hero tilted their head back, their gaze reluctantly shifting to the ceiling.

Their weapon slipped from their fingers, clattering to the ground like the toothpick it was.

“Kick it over there, if you wouldn’t mind,” Villain ordered, nodding to one side of the room.

Hero’s foot moved almost robotically and their weapon skittered across the floor.

“Great, now we can talk.”

Villain leaned forward, never taking his hand off that remote, fingers hovering ominously over the buttons.

“Talk,” the hero parroted numbly, standing stiff and swallowing hard.

Right. Because Hero had all their best conversations at laser-point.

A lazy smile spread across the villain’s face.

“Please, take a seat.”

Hero walked stiffly to the only other chair in the room, all-too aware or the whirring of the device in the ceiling that was locked onto their every move. They sat, perching uncomfortably on the edge of a deep cushion.

There was only one thing on their mind, and that was escape.

But there was no way out. Hero had studied the building blueprints long enough to know that this room had only the one exit and no windows. They were trapped deep in the interior of the abandoned science facility and could be killed at the press of a button.

A painful silence spread between them as Villain took in the definitively trapped hero.

“Well,” the villain chatted lightly, “I was beginning to think you’d be late.”

It was fairly hard to be late to something you didn’t know you were walking into, Hero thought—but wisely did not voice.

The villain inclined his head like he was awaiting a response, so the hero gave him one.

“What are you doing here?”

That did not appear to be the response he was looking for.

“Now Hero, is that any way to have a proper conversation?”

Said hero found themselves biting their tongue about the correlation between threat of death and breaking the cooperative principle. Their heart threatened to beat right out of their chest, like the organ itself knew any word they spoke might send them straight to the afterlife.

The villain tsked at the stony glare that was sent his way in lieu of a reply.

“You’re here, so I can pass on some helpful information,” he spoke and added smoothly, “I suggest being grateful.”

“Not to state the obvious here but,” they hesitated for only the briefest of moments before continuing, “why the hell would I believe you?”

“I present you with a gift, Hero. I do not take such a thing lightly,” he stated seriously. If he held any distaste for their choice of language, he held it at bay for the moment.

“And what am I going to do with this ‘information’?” The hero questioned. Confidence that didn’t feel entirely their own compelled them forward as they scoffed, “Take it to my grave? How generous of you.”

“Please. The Ray is purely for personal safety assurances.”

He gestured vaguely to the deathly contraption in the ceiling.

A giant super-powered laser did not seem to Hero like it would be included under the weapons of self defense category, but once again, they kept their mouth shut.

Perhaps their words had already doomed them, but perhaps the Villain had enough grace to ignore a certain number of inappropriate retorts, given the circumstances—fearing for their life and all.

“Right. So…” Hero took a moment to compose themselves before they continued carefully, “what kind of information?”

The villain grinned, showing all his teeth and revealing the maniacal glint in his eyes.

“I’m so glad you asked.”

[weeby-monster-the-bastard]

so ou know the antinous but he's sweet guy thing? like telemachus birthday? YEAHHH so i made one of little wolf but he's actually being a good guy for his (in this context) step-son and wife. along with stepping up as a father and training telemachus (also these lyrics don't have athena im sorry T-T) also i am HORRIBLE at song writing so be gentle with me

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Fight, little wolf, fight

Wanna train with me?

Bite, little wolf, bite

Let's see how you sheild this

Strike, little wolf, strike

Wanna be a man? Then

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight

You've made a great decision here, might be your best one too

You'll have no broken bones  when you and I are through

I'll teach you all the lessons your father never could

This cruel world doesn't give out chances just for being sheilded, so

Fight, little wolf, fight

Wanna train with me?

Bite, little wolf, bite

Let's see how you dodge this

Strike, little wolf, strike

Wanna be a man? Then

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight

Or your mother wont give us some pie, little wolf, pie

You should take a break before you

Fight, little wolf, fight?

All because you have to

Try, little wolf, try

Dont Run away before you have some 

pie, little wolf, pie, little wolf, pie

Need some help?

What can i do here?

Is your plan to stand around?

'Cause I suggest you fight back

I don't know how

punch like this, now

Whoa, how did I do that?

Did you make yourself lose?

No, I just made your fists quick

Woah, that is so sick!

Alright now, let's try this again

I've no respect for bullies, those who impose their will

I've seen plenty enough to truly understand this kind of filth

Let's teach this boy a lesson on fighting with all his might

One young wolf has a larger heart than all those suitors combined

Fight, little wolf, fight

Show them that you've got some

Bite, little wolf, bite

Take advantage now and

Strike, little wolf, strike

Don't go down without a

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf

Get up and fight

Fight, little wolf, fight

Wanna train with us? (Oh, oh-oh)

Bite, little wolf, bite

Let's see how you take this

Strike, little wolf, strike (strike!)

Wanna be a man? Then (oh-oh, oh-oh)

Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight (fight!)

Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard

{antinous accidentally draws some blood from telemachus' arm}

Ow

Come here and cry in your step-father

Make sure your mother doesnt fear, 

if she does,  I’ll wipe both your tears

Tell me ‘tony why you helped me train?

[discordiansamba]

the fire lord was in the living room.

lee told himself to breathe. this wouldn't be his first time meeting fire lord iroh, he reminded himself. he'd served him tea in ba sing se. he had nothing to be afraid of. he's a kind man. he even told you that you reminded him of his nephew-

-right. his nephew. lee was his nephew.

he was also the one who asked to see him. if he stopped and let himself think about that, it felt impudent of him. he was just a tea server from the middle ring. who was he to request a meeting with the leader of an entire nation?

...who was his uncle. spirits. it was hard to keep this straight.

lee drew in and let out a deep breath, and entered the room. fire lord iroh was not in his regalia, and that eased his nerves somewhat. he bowed to the man, even as he tried to remind himself this was his uncle. he was a prince. he didn't have to bow. they were nearly of equal station.

...yeah, he couldn't make himself believe that.

"lee," the fire lord's voice is shockingly even, "-it is good to see you again. you do not have to stand on ceremony with me."

lee swallows, and slowly looks up at fire lord iroh. there's a deep sadness in his eyes- only he knows why it's there this time. his nephew is treating him like a stranger. his nephew is not acting like himself. lee opens his mouth, tries to call this man uncle-

-he can't make himself do it.

"fire lord iroh," he says, "-i am honored you accepted my request to see you."

he wonders how the fire lord can still manage to smile at him like that. he feels like he the man should hate him. he never meant to, but he's taken over his nephew's body- taken control of his entire life. and even though he knows the truth now, part of him has the audacity to wish to stay this way.

"the honor is all mine, I assure you," fire lord iroh says, "-please, sit. it is my turn to make you tea."

lee opens his mouth. that wouldn't be proper. he can't have the fire lord make him tea. he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying it. for the first time, he actually feels a bit like a puppet on strings, behaving in a way he can't fully control. his mind feels like it's at war with himself- the part that knows he's lee versus the part that's been told he's zuko.

lee's winning. of course he is.

"...but I can tell you would be more comfortable if you did it yourself," fire lord iroh relents.

lee lets out an exhale of relief, and busily sets himself to the task. the process calms him, and by the time he's poured the fire lord a cup, he feels a little less like his heart wants to escape his chest. the fire lord smiles and takes a sip, praising his skill. lee can't help but glow with pride at the praise.

"so," fire lord iroh begins, "-katara said you wished to speak with me."

lee nods, and takes the seat across from him. he pours himself his own cup of tea, and takes a steadying sip. he starts by apologizing to the fire lord. he's taken his nephew from him. it was never his intention- lee had no say in coming into existence, like most people, but it is the end result. he admits that he cannot think of him as his uncle, even if logically, he knows he is.

he asks him to tell him about zuko.

the fire lord considers the question for a long moment. he tells him that contrary to what many may think, his nephew had quite a bit of good in him. as a child he had been deeply kind, though it was frequently offset by his inability to fully control his temper. that aspect of him worsened after the agni kai with his father-

-lee's eyes go wide.

"ah," fire lord iroh, "-yes. I suppose you would not know."

lee doesn't know what to think.

he doesn't understand why lady mai is here. he wants to say that katara manipulated her in the same way she wants to manipulate him- except. katara's been here the entire time. he knows that for a fact. another waterbender, then?

but lady mai had said they couldn't even do that.

he didn't understand. lady mai was one of princess azula's close friends, but according to her, the princess had been lying to him. and katara... katara was telling the truth. he closes his eyes, thinking back to the way lady mai would always watch him out of the corner of her eyes. to their occasional morning tea sessions together. if lady ty lee had always been friendlier to him than someone of his lowly station deserved, then lady mai had always been aloof and proper.

and sometimes, lee realized, she looked at him with pity.

he doesn't understand. it doesn't make sense. if princess azula was lying to him, if what katara and lady mai say is true, then...

...no. it can't be true. it doesn't feel true. katara says his father was the one who brainwashed him, but lee loves his father. his father loves him. he's always been proud of him. that feeling can't be fake, can it? it feels real. he closes his eyes for a moment. tries to imagine himself being prince zuko, the banished prince of the fire nation.

he can't.

there's a knock on his door. he doesn't know why he opens it, but they're all standing out there. he stares at them, wondering what they see then they look at him. who they see. when he looks at himself in the mirror, the only person he's ever seen reflected back at him is himself- is lee. but have they ever seen him that way?

"sit down," lady mai instructs, "-I'm going to prove everything to you right now."

lee moves, almost mechanically. the way he expects a brainwashed person would move. he doesn't move that way. he sits on the ground, cross-legged like lady mai tells him to. she tells him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. to time his breathing with hers. he asks what they're doing.

she tells him he's going to firebend.

"this is the way they test for it in the fire nation," lady mai says, "-close your eyes. focus inward. find your inner flame and bring it out."

this is stupid, lee thinks. he's not a firebender. but if he does what she says and can't firebend, then he'll know they're all lying to him. that he's not some fire nation prince. that he's lee. maybe once he proves that to them, they'll let him go home.

he wants to go back to ba sing se so badly.

lee draws in and lets out a deep breath. he concentrates inwards. he has no idea what an inner flame is even supposed to be. he's always felt a warmth in his chest, though. he concentrates on that, and then... how would he even bring it out?

he hears katara and sokka suck in a breath.

lee's eyes flutter open. there's a tiny flame flickering in his palms.

"congratulations," lady mai says, "-you're a firebender, zuko."

lee barely hears her. he can only stare at the flame in horror. he's a nonbender. he's earth kingdom. he shouldn't be able to firebend. this is impossible. this has to be a trick, his mind whispers to him. you know who you are. you're lee, son of lan-wei and yuna. you're from ba sing se. you're a tea server.

...was he?

[x-nephophile-x]

What I say: I can't write for bg3 What I actually mean:

Astarion has 3 wips totaling 1,434

Gale has 1 wip with 1,249 words, And yet, Lord Doordash has 4 WIPs totaling 1,738 words.

@cock-and-bhaals for the Gortash meme that makes me w h e e z e

[glorified-phantom]

I JUST nOTICED THAT hE HAS LITTLE SHARP TOOTHIES

I MIHGHT BE STUPID BUT I JUST NOTICED THE,M THIS CHANGES EVERYTHINg

[gods-perfect-idiots]

was overcome with the urge to draw "wade tenderly caressing logan's face while he's Feeling Big Angsty Stuff" and then the parallel urge to do a follow-up of "logan kissing wade's hand/holding onto him for dear life"

(anyway hope you like it - I have been looking at this for too long and so of course I hate it now 🫠 art is hard guys lol)

some details below the cut because I am happy with some small aspects - still really enjoying the painting part of doing Wade's scars for example (thanks again @woof-verine for that inspo it is just baked into my psyche now, and also for being a forever enjoyer of pointy ears Logan - sorry couldn't quite get the fangs in this time but they are there trust me!!)

ps. was listening to She Calls Me Back by Noah Kahan for this one. idk it just hits for me in my poolverine-addled state lol

[keeps-ache]

mm i Neeed to go the beach

[atopvisenyashill]

i don’t care that rhaenyra’s oldest are illegitimate not bc i’m a targ stan who thinks she can do no wrong but because legitimacy is a social construct that does nothing more than enforce the patriarchy and class system, and rhaenyra having kids out of wedlock with a man she is consenting to sex with is fine, actually, and if you’re hung up on that it is my opinion that you are clinging to the rules of propriety and patriarchy when analyzing her because you think she should be punished for having sex outside marriage and not like, all the things she actually does that are morally wrong, which is like, textbook misogyny.

“but the lords” so the thing is i don’t give a shit if the lords think she’s a slut. i understand the time period bc not only am i not stupid, i also understand that it is still a big issue in many communities for mothers to have children out of wedlock. i am saying i do not care because it’s a fake issue the way “brienne can’t really be a knight because she’s a woman” and “sansa can’t rule winterfell when she has true born younger brothers” or whatever else. legitimacy is a tool of the patriarchy, of colonialism irl, of classism, and the argument “rhaenyra is a bad person for having children out of wedlock when she knew that would put them in danger” is stupid bc legitimacy doesn’t fucking matter and neither does marriage.

[cats-in-the-clouds]

i keep getting stuck being forced to take classes i despise and that have no relevance to me so i’m going to go all malicious compliance on every single assignment and subtly insult the class material and/or professor