#if this is out of character for her also please let me know i have not read avos . or anything beyond that x_x

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 4 - Saturday Night | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.8k

"Layla..." you called her that same morning after you darted away from the guest room, heart racing and mind swirling with a mix of excitement and anxiety. Your body was littered with remnants of Trent as scurried up to your bedroom.  

"What? You're making me nervous!" she replied, her tone a mix of concern and curiosity.

"I fucked him last night, Layla," you admitted, barely able to contain the shame and guilt that washed over you.

"Ermmmm, are you talking about...?" Layla trailed off, clearly aware of your long-time crush on Trent but shocked that you might have actually gone through with it.

"Yes," you confirmed, cringing at the admission.

"Oh my fucking god!" she screamed, and you had to pull the phone away from your ear, stifling a giggle.

"I know. But I'm such an idiot," you sighed, feeling a mix of exhilaration and dread.

"Were you drunk?" she asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"No, we were totally sober," you replied, feeling a little prouder that it hadn't been a drunken mistake.

"I let him fuck me. And then I scampered up to my room like a little girl this morning. What do I do?" you confessed, panic rising in your chest. “Also… ‘let’ is probably not the word to describe what happened. I begged him… he had me begging, lays.” You whined recalling how Trent had you acting in that bedroom.

“Lol so the dick was as good as you imagined.” Layala laughed. "Did you talk or was it like a quickie?" Layla asked, jumping around with questions, her voice lowering as if she were afraid someone might overhear.

"Erm... it definitely wasn't quick. It was roundsss, Layla, but we were trying to be quiet. I mean, It was literally in the house.. Jack was upstairs," you explained, feeling the embarrassment creep up your neck. 

"God, that’s fucked up. But girlie, maybe this is the shift! We’ve been waiting for this man to move on you," she encouraged, though you could hear her excitement laced with a tease about how long this had been building for bubbling through the line.

"I don't know, my brother would murder me. What if... maybe it was a one-off thing for him," you said, uncertainty flooding your voice. “Maybe he just wanted to do it once and then call it. Like get it out of his system.” You reflected back wondering what this meant for Trent versus what it meant for you. Maybe different things. For you, this had been years of longing coming to a head, finally he gave you a chance and took you to bed. You worried that for Trent maybe he was simply just horny that night and once he knew you’d kiss him, he finally took you up on a bigger offer. 

"Well, like how was it?" Layla pressed, her curiosity growing slicing through the onslaught of panic in your own head that she couldn’t hear.

"Lay.." you said, using her nickname as a cautionary warning.

"Like how good though?" she insisted, practically bouncing with anticipation and a dirty smirk.

"Layla... I was literally in heaven," you admitted, unable to hide the smile creeping onto your face. "I’ve never felt like that in my life. His hands on me– within the first minute, I was moaning like an embarrassing mess. He had me on the verge of blacking out. The way he felt... oh my days... he made me squirt, I was just for him in the best way possible," you confessed, feeling a thrill at your own words.

"Oh my god!" Layla squealed, her excitement palpable even through the phone. You’d never reported that happening with other men so Layla’s shock was fairly merited. 

"Shhh!" you hissed, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting Jack to burst in and demand to know what was going on. You could almost hear his protective big-brother instincts kicking in. Layla was silent for a moment.

"You need to figure out what's next. If it was that good for you… Y/N, he must’ve loved seeing you like that. If there are two things that boy loves, it’s winning and it’s you; having you begging for him… he must’ve been in heaven too. I’m sure of it. Don’t overthink this, maybe it's worth the risk. Plus, if the boy knows what he’s doing…." She sang cheekily. You pondered her words, the reality of the situation settling in. What if this was just the beginning? The beginning of a very dangerous relationship but also potentially the beginning of more very good sex. “Maybe you should see it through. Talk to him or have sex with him, whatever you’re feeling.” She laughed. You giggled, falling forward and hiding your face. 

“I’m so fucked…” You whined.  

“Literally.”  Layla teased, as you noticed yet another visible love bite on your skin.

A few days passed and you were laid sprawled out on your bed, phone in hand, staring at Trent’s pictures on google. It felt so silly, googling him like he was some distant crush you’d never met, but here you were, scrolling through articles and match reports. You wanted to know every detail—how his last game went, what people were saying, the headlines, the photos, the videos. Seeing him on the field in action, looking focused and sharp… and sexy stirred something deep inside you. And then, almost on autopilot, you dialed his number. The ringing made your stomach flip. 

“Hey, pretty girl” When he answered, his voice was warm but fairly surprised.  You froze, suddenly unsure of what you’d meant to say. Why did you just call your brother’s best friend? But his soft laugh on the other end nudged you, and then he spoke again, this time with a hint of something more in his voice. “I’m glad you called. Been thinking about you.” Oh yeah, because he fucked you the other night that’s why you called him. This was a disaster but his words hit you right in the chest, and you let out a quiet, shaky breath, smiling despite yourself. The playfulness between you two was easy and effortless, like slipping into an old habit. The conversation flowed naturally, flirty in a way you couldn’t resist.  When he asked what you were up to you told him you were already in bed, feeling the silence hang heavy between you. He chuckled softly. The moment hung between you, that delicious tension settling in as you lay there, holding your phone to your ear. Hearing Trent’s voice through the speaker, warm and inviting, made your heart beat faster. You took a breath, steadying yourself.

“In bed, yeah?” he murmured, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. The way he said it was casual enough, but there was an edge—a hint of suggestion that wasn’t lost on you.

“Mm-hmm,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the little catch in your breath betrayed you. This wasn’t like your usual banter, and you could both feel it.

“Well… that’s a shame,” he said, a hint of a chuckle in his tone. “Because I’m not there.” He teased.

“Not here yet,” you corrected softly, biting your lip. The words slipped out before you could think, surprising even yourself. You really wished he was in your bed right now. A guest bedroom didn’t have the same intimacy your own bedrooms would’ve. You hoped you’d get to have in him in your bed again one day.

“Yet?” he echoed, his voice dropping a bit. The way he said it sent a thrill through you. He sounded… interested. Was he interested?

“You sound a little… distracted, T.” You laughed softly, trying to keep things light. 

“Distracted? I mean, that’s a bold assumption for someone who just called me in bed.” He smiled and although you couldn’t see it, you could hear it.

“Touché,” you admitted. He let out a low laugh, and then his voice softened, almost as if he were drawing closer to you through the line. 

“I’ve been thinking about you, you know… Not just tonight, either.” A little breath caught in your throat, and you felt heat bloom in your cheeks. You’d been thinking about him too—more than you wanted to admit. And yet here he was, saying it so easily, without hesitation. You felt that familiar ease between you two, but now it had a sharper edge to it, something thrilling and dangerous. “Wish I wasn’t stuck in Milan right now… but since you’re in bed and… since you’re all cozy,” he continued, “maybe you could let me see what I’m missing in that bed?” You hesitated, heart pounding. It was so simple, and yet the thought of it felt electric. 

“You mean right now?” You asked almost in shock. There were moments lately that felt like a rubber band to the back of your neck. It almost confused you that Trent was talking to you like this now. Your brother’s best friend essentially was asking for photos. Your head was spinning at his composure. 

“Yeah, baby” he said, his voice almost a murmur. And it was back… suddenly you were ‘baby’ again. “Just a little something to tide me over. Unless you’re too shy? But I didn’t think you got shy when you’re in bed,” he teased, knowing exactly how to make your pulse race.

“I’m not shy.” You let out a quiet laugh, your confidence swelling

“Good.” His voice dropped, that familiar warmth and playfulness making your skin tingle. “Be a good girl and send me a photo.” His voice was soft, coaxing, and it sent a thrill through you. The anticipation made your fingers tingle as you bit your lip, considering it. It felt thrillingly new, even after all these years of knowing him—this version of him, of you, of you two together. You bit your lip, and after a quick glance around your room, you sat up, ripping off your hoodie, adjusting your hair and holding your phone up for a quick snap. You knew it had to be just the right mix of casual and tempting. You could see your nipples through the sheer tank top but the soft smile made it cute, innocent. You weren’t about to send him a nude out the gate but just something to get his mind thinking about being there with you. When you hit send, there was a pause on the other end, and then Trent let out a quiet groan.  “Nah, you’re killing me, you know that?” He groaned. You laughed, feeling emboldened by his reaction. 

“Think you’d want to see me when you’re back? Come be cozy in bed?”  You giggled teasingly. 

“Honestly?” he replied and your heart skipped a beat in the worst way, expecting the worst. A rush of worry maybe he was about to change his mind, “I’m not sure I can hold out much longer” He exhaled, sounding half-playful, half-serious, and you could feel his anticipation echoing back at you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You smirked realizing he had been trying to play it cool since you two had sex. You weren’t sure what to think of that, a part of you wondered if he was embarrassed it happened but then the sexual tension of the current moment overruled any cautionary thought you were having. The line went silent for a moment. “There better be space for me in that bed once I’m back. yeah?” He added. The way he said it made your cheeks flush, a promise tucked into his words.

“There always has been, T,” you whispered, surprising even yourself with the quiet assurance in your voice. And with that, you both hung up, your heart racing as you lay back, feeling the anticipation buzz through you.

Layla was away for work down in London when you and Trent hooked up so it was a couple days' time until she got to come over and properly debrief. Once she was back in town Layla was immediately at your house, practically bursting with excitement as soon as she stepped through the door. You barely had time to breathe before you were pulling her into your room to spill all the details.

“Lays… look at me, look at this! He did this. Trent did this!” you said, lifting your little flouncy shorts just enough to reveal the cheeky bruise left on the inside of your thigh. You emphasized his name just to really hammer home that Trent Alexander-Arnold, long time crush, Jack’s best friend, sexy footballer left that on you. You were both giggling like teenagers as you collapsed onto your bed, recounting the details of that night.

“Oh my god!” Layla squealed, eyes wide as she burst into laughter. “That’s very secondary school of you getting love bites.” She teased. You couldn’t help but giggle, the thrill of the moment still fresh in your mind, not caring for her teasing joke. “I’m kidding, girlie, that’s actually kind of nuts considering...” She tilted her head as if you were supposed to know what she was implying. 

“Considering….” You inquired. 

“Y/N, this is the riskiest hook up you both possibly could be involved in, and while I don’t think Jack often sees that much of you… for T to be so in wrapped in the moment of finally getting you into bed, so into fucking you, claiming you, that he’s leaving marks… He’s so into this! He’s down because he’s risking a lot here.” She explained. You fought the sly smile pulling on your lips. The days that followed the night with Trent were a whirlwind of excitement and nervous energy but hearing her explain it like that felt like new insight. After you first had called her, Layla had insisted on analyzing every text message Trent sent you since that night. You were practically glued to your phone, reading and rereading his messages as you waited for more. But now, she was finally here with you so you could share your love bites. You and Layla had planned to drive to Selfridges this afternoon for some shopping for the new season. Whilst on the way there you received a text that made your heart race the second it pinged. 

“He texted meee!” you squealed, showing the screen to Layla, who couldn’t look right away because she was driving but she believed you. The sheer volume of your exclamation made her wince, only one person was eliciting that sort of response from you lately. 

“Oh my god, Y/N, get a grip!” She softly laughed. “You’ve had his number for years!” she teased, rolling her eyes mocking you lightheartedly of course but unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips. She was excited, you were excited. Trent’s text was casual at first, but as you read on, you noticed the subtle undertones. He asked if you and Layla just might happen to want to swing by a club in Manchester this Saturday night, specifically around midnight, and specifically to come join a certain table with him and his friends It was meant to sound nonchalant, but the specifics made it clear he wanted to see you.

The casual tone didn’t fool either of you as you read the full message allowed to her. The exact time and place felt a little too intentional, making it clear that he wanted to see you. Layla smirked, nudging you. You blushed, excitement and nerves churning in your stomach.

“Girl, he’s planned this. With teammates and not his boys i.e not Jack…” Layla remarked, leaning in closer to reread the message for herself at a stoplight. “You know what this means, right?” She smiled. 

“What?” you asked, your heart pounding. Naively, you were struggling with this new relationship with Trent. His ‘older brother’s best friend’ persona was so seared into your brain, the ideas that normally were flowing for you with previous men and what they wanted from you… weren’t coming as easily for some reason. You were overthinking your instincts. It’s not that you didn’t have the desire. You just were so afraid of him not liking you that way, you almost didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of Trent. You were scared.

“It means he’s not just interested; he’s invested. He’s making plans to see you. You have to go!” Layla cooed. You felt a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of anxiety. You couldn’t shake the thought of what if it was all just fun and games for him? But the way he texted, the way he seemed to genuinely want to see you in a setting like that, made your heart flutter.

“Do you really think I should? He also said you too Lays, so you have to go with me,” you told her, biting your lip nervously.

“Hell yes! We and by we, I mean you, are not going to let an opportunity like this pass you by. By the way… It’s obvious, T thought the first time was good too,” Layla said cheekily, her enthusiasm infectious. “We need to get you ready. Find an outfit that’ll make him forget his own name!” You laughed, feeling a little giddy at the idea. 

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I need to at least give it a go. But I’m still freaking out! Fuck!” You whined, burying your head in your hands almost embarrassed by your nerves. “I have to be careful though… like I can’t do too much. I’m scared he’ll be like… ‘what are you doing?’ or ‘who are you trying to be?’ You know?” You explained once the idea of fashion and outfits came into your mind.

“I get that… we need to be cool, calm, collected… and fucking sexy. Ugh a yellow shopping bag couldn’t come at a better time!” Layla said, pulling into the car park for the department store dreaming of filling the boot with those shopping bags. The thought of seeing Trent again filled you with a mix of excitement and nerves, but you couldn’t help but feel hopeful. You couldn’t help but feel a bit eager for another night with Trent, no matter the consequences at stake. You and Layla spent the entire afternoon bouncing from one brand’s section to another in Selfridges, rifling through racks, holding up options and critiquing each one. Layla was relentless, pushing you to try looks you had a hard time wrapping your head around that somethings so sexy could be for Trent. After some trial and error, you finally found the outfit. You took a deep breath and tucked off into the changing room, slipping lace fabric against your skin, watching how it transformed you. When you stepped out, Layla’s jaw dropped.

“Oh my fucking god, he’s gonna pass out.” Layla laughed almost in disbelief as you stepped out of the changing room in a sheer black lace dress. It was strapless and pushed your boobs up, hugging you in all the right places.  It was dangerously sexy. The dress was just the right side of bold. I mean, it was obvious but in a cool way. You checked yourself out in the mirror, feeling that same rush of excitement and  hint of nerves you’d felt since you got the text.  “This is perfect. It’s so fucking good — ugh I can’t wait to see his face. Nonchalant, my ass, he won’t be able to keep his hands off,” Layla grinned, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Do you really think this is enough?” you asked, adjusting the dress one more time, tilting back and forth to catch the way it moved on you. Layla smirked deviously making it very clear she had more ideas. 

“Yes, but we’re not done… We’re getting you lingerie. If you want him to never think of you as Jack’s sister again, we have to make sure this look, this version of you is seared into his brain Saturday.” She grabbed your hand and dragged you to find La Perla navigating through the store with a determination that made you laugh despite your nerves. The idea of buying this all for your brother’s best friend was fucking insane but you didn’t want him to be just your brother’s best friend anymore. The delicate lace and silky pieces of lingerie were making you blush, remembering how gently he pulled your own panties off you that first night. And so with Layla’s guidance, you started sifting through options, feeling bolder with each choice. At first, you stuck to safe-ish options, something that could pass as an everyday piece—but Layla wasn’t having it. She held up a set that was anything but modest: something lacey that felt both elegant and dangerously seductive. You stared at it, feeling a jolt of confidence and a hint of nervousness.

“Actually just this,” Layla said, putting back the set and grabbing just a scrap of fabric, holding out to you with a smirk. “We do this, no bra, and the dress, that’ll erase any idea that you’re a little sister. You’ll walk in, and that’s the only thing he’ll remember.” You felt electric, standing there, imagining the look on Trent’s face when he saw you in the skimpy piece of fabric you were about to ludicrously pay £200 for. By the time you left Selfridges, you had everything you needed: the perfect dress, heels that made you feel powerful, and a pair of panties that would stay with him long after the night was over. Layla squeezed your arm. “By the way, Y/N… You’re not Jack’s sister, you’re you. That’s why he’s interested. And Trent is not going to forget it.”

That Saturday night was a whirlwind of desire and temptation. Trent’s private table was an oasis of luxury, tucked in the club’s exclusive area surrounded by footballers and bottles of liquor. The lights were dim, casting a seductive glow over the scene, and the air was thick with anticipation.  When you walked into the club you were escorted to the area and Trent's usual composure shattered. He'd planned to keep it cool, but the sight of you in the dress threw his carefully crafted nonchalance out the window. His eyes traveled over you, taking in every curve with a hunger that made him feel both exhilarated and guilty. You were Jack's sister-his best mate's sister-but right now that was being erased. You were here… he wasn’t and now all he could think about was getting you close to him. Close to him so he could get his hands on you and those clothes off you. To keep things casual, he greeted Layla first, introducing her to his teammates so it wasn’t too obvious. But when he finally turned to you, it felt like the room silenced, as if nothing else mattered in that moment. Without a word, his arms wrapped around you, and his hands fell low, cupping the curve of your ass with a daring boldness that sent a surge of adrenaline through both of you. You nestled into him, breathing him in. The scent of him, a woody velvet encircled you wrapping you in the comfort of him. You didn't kiss though, you couldn’t, not out in public, but his touch told you everything. He wanted to. You wanted.

"You look so fucking sexy." He murmured, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear. You could feel his perfect pout move against the shell of your ear. The words came out low, rough, igniting a blush that you couldn't hide. You draped your arms over his shoulders, letting your fingers trail down his neck as you pulled him closer, eyes gleaming. 

"It can be all for you," you taunted, leaving the promise hanging in the air before slipping away to greet Layla and the others. As you moved away, Trent exhaled, watching you move to greet some of his mates with an exasperated smile. It was going to be a long night, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could play it cool.

You and Layla seamlessly joined Trent and his teammates. It was easy. The energy of the night igniting a fire between you and him though. His eyes stayed locked on you, a mix of longing and mischievous intent as you danced with Layla. He wasn’t one to really dance so for the time being he continued on his quest to play it cool, leaned back on a couch watching you move. Even with distance between you two, the electric connection tether you to him. Your pulse quickening with every glance.  In the dim light of the nightclub, the bass thrummed like a heartbeat in the air, creating a pulsing rhythm that matched the intoxicating sway of the crowd. The atmosphere was thick with a heady mix of laughter, music. The club’s DJ mixed a seamless transition of songs rolling one into the next, a 2010 classic you knew Trent loved. You smirked at him and strutted over, reaching out to him. Your hand extended, unsure if he’d take it. But he did, he grabbed your hand as you pulled him to stand up. Against his usual reserved demeanor to avoid dancing,  he couldn’t resist you. The club pulsed with the rhythm of Jeremih’s mid 2000’s ‘Put It Down on Me’ vibrating through the floor and mingling with the heat of the room. As the beat of the music wrapped around you, you positioned yourself directly on top of Trent, your back pressed against his chest. The heat from his body radiated through the thin fabric of your dress, every movement heightened by the press of his strong frame. The boundaries between flirtation and something more had long since blurred. The pulsing bass of the club surrounded you, and as Trent's hands settled on your waist, every nerve in you ignited. He pulled you in, letting his fingers slip down, dragging you flush against him as you dragged your own hands down his strong arms before placing your hands overtop of his, guiding them over your body as you moved. You could feel his breath near your ear. The look in his eyes was electric, and as his hands caressed you, a thrill of anticipation for what could happen bloomed between you two. You pulled back just enough, tilting your head back to give him a shy, knowing smile that hinted you weren't about to play it safe tonight, that you didn’t want to. As the night wore on, Trent kept you on him and the drinks kept flowing, the boundaries blurred to a point where it felt like they didn’t exist at all to you. Any attempt to keep things casual had faded as you stayed pressed against him, feeling the heat of his body as you moved together to the rhythm. Your hips swayed, and Trent's hands seemed to find their way to every curve, guiding you as if the whole club had melted away, leaving just the two of you in the moment. The music wrapped you both in its seductive embrace, and every glance he stole felt like a secret promise. You found yourself feeling utterly alive under the spell of his charm. The longer his hands were on you, the more you wanted him, the more deliberate the way you moved against him got, you could feel him against you. 

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice was low and teasing, but you felt the strain behind it, like he was barely holding back, on the verge of breaking. But he invited you tonight, he wanted this even if he was implying that you needed to be cautious. A smirk tugged at your lips as you glanced back at him, feeling bold. You reached up behind you, letting your arm drape back around his neck as you grinded against him, feeling his hands grip you tighter, the friction sending waves of pleasure through both of you. 

"Good," you whispered back. Your tone was playful, a little challenging, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as they met yours. You let your free hand guide his up your body, tracing his touch from your hip slowly traveling up your side, over your ribs, the curve of your tits and finally resting on the curve of your throat. The placement of his hand was intoxicating, and Trent’s resolve wavered as he struggled to keep his composure.  Trent’s breath quickened, his other hand’s fingers tightening around your hips as you guided his hand to stay on your neck as you arched into his touch more. He squeezed his eyes shut fast, fighting the surge of desire that threatened to overwhelm him. His fingers gently squeezed your neck, sending a shiver through you. Trent closed his eyes once more for another second, as if willing himself to stay in control, but you knew exactly what you were doing and he knew he wasn’t going to manage much longer, not like this. Every little touch, every brush of your skin, sent his mind spiraling back to the night you'd spent together. And so you continued, your hand guiding his, bringing it from your neck up to your lips. You took his hand in yours and slowly dragged one of his fingers over your lips, letting it linger there. Then, feeling daring, you kissed his finger before slipping it into your mouth with a teasing grin. You took the finger into your warm, wet mouth, your tongue circling it seductively. Trent's eyes snapped open, the tension clear in his expression. Trent’s breath hitched, his control slipping as the warmth and wetness of your mouth made his pulse race. 

"Y/N..." he cautioned, his voice husky. He was trying to keep it together, trying to hold his composure, but you could tell he was barely hanging on and you wanted him to falter. The air around you was charged, electric with the intensity of the moment. The nightclub’s atmosphere seemed to amplify the tension, every beat of the music syncing with the quickened rhythm of your hearts. The intimacy of the gesture, the way you drew him into your world with such daring confidence, left Trent in a state of heated disarray. The private area, the pulsating music, and your body pressed against his created a searing contrast to the cool sophistication of the setting. He could barely think straight as you continued to tease him with your movements and your touch, each moment building towards a crescendo of irresistible need.

"Get me in trouble," you whispered a plea, your voice a soft taunt, challenging him to let go. You felt his breath catch, and for a split second, it seemed like he was going to give in, pull you closer and damn the consequences. His fingers dropped to tighten on your waist, his gaze intense, and you could feel his resolve crumbling with every second. The thrill of it sent a rush through you, knowing you'd pushed him to this point, both of you teetering on the edge of what came next.

Layla was watching with barely concealed amusement, a grin spreading across her face as she took in the scene, proud of her handiwork considering the dress seemed to be more than effective but then again, his fingers were in your mouth moments ago so it was a toss up what really was sending Trent over the age. But she wasn't the only one who saw you two– Trent's teammates had also noticed, exchanging looks that ranged from amused to confused. One of them leaned over to Layla, eyebrows raised.

"That's his mate's sister, right?" He asked earnestly. Layla chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Oh is she ever," she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "That is one, sexy, ticking time bomb," She laughed. The music pulsed around you, bodies moving under the lights as Trent leaned in close, his expression intense. He’d had enough. 

“You’re leaving with me. Right now.” He murmured seriously, the command laced with an impatience you could feel from a mile away.

“What do you mean? Why? ” Feigning innocence, you tilted your head. He bit back a smirk, annoyed but undeniably amused by your act. So he decided to play along.

“I mean, you just look a little hot, baby… Think you have too many clothes on.” He told you, making up a farce.  His gaze trailed over you, lingering with obvious intent.  His arm wrapped around you letting his massive hand run over your collarbone over to your shoulder and then down your arm brushing over your skin, slick from the club’s heat.

“I’m in a mini dress, T baby, I think I’m okay.” You whispered with a shrug, biting back a little laugh. He moved in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as his fingers gripped your waist. 

“I said, you have too many clothes on." He said more commandingly. A thrill ran through you, your pulse quickening. "Let me help you, yeah?” He cooed cheekily.

“Maybe you’re right. I think I need you.” You gave him a sly smile then glanced over to find Layla. After making sure she was all set for the night, she told you to go and you hugged her goodbye promising you’d check in to make sure one of the other boys got her home safely. She wasn’t exactly keen about leaving since she had hit it off with one of the other boys there. She shot you a knowing grin and a wink as you slipped away with Trent, his hand gripping yours with unmistakable possession as he led you through the crowd. You quickly mouthed a ‘love you’ to her, her smirk only widening as she watched you and Trent disappear. Trent tugged you closer to him, his hand dropping to your lower back to keep you close and protect as he guided you through the crowd and toward the exit. As he led you out to the private exit, his hand firmly grasping yours, you felt a giddiness wash over you. It felt surreal to leave somewhere like this with him. The alcohol and the adrenaline from the night's adventures had left you feeling fearless and carefree. You giggled as he dragged you along, your high heels clicking against the ground. 

"Hey, slow down, needy boy" you slurred, attempting to match his long strides. "I can barely keep up with you.” You giggled. Trent needed to leave out the back for his car service to pick him up. He did it often but especially tonight, he couldn’t risk paparazzi. He looked at you, his expression torn between frustration and desire, his hand still warm in yours.

"I fuck… I couldn't... God, fuck baby… I hate that I can’t just…" he started, stumbling through thoughts you had a hard time connecting. His voice was rough as he struggled to find the words. But then his gaze met yours, and in a second, he was leaning in, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that made everything else disappear. The restraint he'd held onto all night finally snapped, and you felt his hands tighten around you, pulling you close in the back exit halls as if he couldn't get enough.  “I need to get you home. Been dying to kiss you. I couldn’t take it anymore. Been driving me crazy all night." Trent chuckled, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“I want to go home, baby.” You playfully whined,  your eyes sparkling with mischief. The cool night air hit you like a shock, but Trent's firm grip anchored you, his urgency undeniable. As soon as you were outside, he pulled you into him, glancing around once over as if checking to make sure no one followed towards the car.

“Gonna be a good girl f’me when we get home?” He asked you and you nodded slowly but desperately.  The lights from the club cast a hazy glow around you, making everything feel surreal. You got into the black car equipped with security that had waited for you two. The drive back to his place felt like an eternity. You were dying to get there but terrified to go at the same time. His hands were subtly all over you during the car ride building up the tension even more than you thought possible. The heat radiating off your bodies, and the way his gaze lingered on your lips had you desperate for him. As you approached his house, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a mixture of nerves and anticipation. 

With a swift movement, Trent unlocked his front door and pulled you inside, his eyes dark with desire. The moment the door closed behind you, he crashed his lips against yours, hungrily devouring your mouth. His kiss was aggressive, demanding, and it took your breath away. You responded eagerly, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. He pulled back momentarily, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any hesitation. 

"Are you sure about this, Y/N? I don't want to push you too far. But I’m having a hard time controlling myself here" He asked earnestly. A wave of desire washed over you, and you knew you wanted this as much as he did, maybe more. 

"Stop asking," you whispered, your voice laced with need. "Just fuck me, T. I want you to fuck me again. Make me cum again." A devilish grin spread across his face, and he wasted no time in taking control. His hands roamed over your body, unzipping your dress and roughly pulling it down, exposing your bare skin. He traced his fingers along the curve of your waist, down to the swell of your hips, and then back up, cupping your tits.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growled, his lips finding your neck, nipping and suckling on your sensitive skin. "You promised you’d be a good girl f’me. Yeah?"  He smoke against your skin. You nodded as you arched your back, offering yourself to him, your breath coming in shallow gasps. 

"T, baby… don't hold back. I’m serious. I’ll do whatever you want. I want it rough. I want to forget everything but your touch."  Trent’s eyes lit up. This was all still so new and he was more than excited to hear you talk to him like that. His hands moved with purpose, completely removing your dress freeing your heavy tits. He palmed them, squeezing and kneading, his thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples. 

"Fuck, your tits are incredible," he groaned, his lips moving to capture a nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth. You moaned loudly, your head falling back as pleasure coursed through your body. His mouth felt incredible on your sensitive flesh, and you couldn't help but beg for more. 

"Oh fuck, please. I need more." You cried out. He released your nipple with a pop, leaving it aching and tingling. 

"You've always wanted me, haven't you, baby?" he teased, his voice laced with a hint of dominance. "Admit it, you've been craving my cock inside you since the other week." He growled.  Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal. You weren’t sure you were ever going to get over how sexy it was to hear Trent talk like this to you, and it sent a thrill through your core. 

"Yeah huh... I've always wanted you. You know I have,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want you to use me,T." You weren't thinking it in real time but you almost didn’t recognize the words coming out of your mouth, you’d never been this down for a man before, so willing, so submissive. 

“Fuck… Wear these just for me, baby?” He asked lust burning behind his dark mahogany eyes as he admired the La Perlas you’d worn exactly as he said... just for him.  You hummed confirming. “Such a good girl for me.” Trent snickered, his hands moving down to the waistband of your thong roughly pulling them off you, exposing your glistening folds. You gasped. "I’ll buy you more baby, don’t worry. I know you… you like to be dirty for me. You’ve been craving my touch, my cock, huh?” Your skin was on fire under his touch, your pussy throbbing and dripping with need. 

"Please, Trent," you pleaded, your voice hoarse. "Touch me, I'm so wet for you." He didn't need any more encouragement. His fingers delved between your legs, finding your swollen clit, and began to stroke and tease. 

"Fuck, you're so fucking wet," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. "I love how you get so turned on by me." Your body trembled as his fingers worked their magic, circling your clit, sliding into your slick heat.

"Yeah– I fuck.. Oh my god. For you baby. Oh God, yes," you whimpered a jumble of words, your hips thrusting against his hand. "Right there, please, don't stop." You moaned. Trent's touch was relentless, his fingers plunging deep inside you, curling and stroking your sweet spot. 

"That's it, baby, cum for me. I want to feel your pussy clench around my fingers." Your orgasm built rapidly, your body coiling tighter with each stroke of his skilled fingers. 

"I'm gonna cum, baby!" you cried out, your voice hoarse and raw. He increased the pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in firm circles. 

"That's it, let it all out. Cum for me, pretty girl.” He cooed as your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as pleasure consumed you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. “Good girl.” He gently praised you kissing your neck. As your tremors subsided, Trent gently removed his fingers, leaving you feeling sensitive and sated. He picked you up and brought you up to the bedroom, his eyes locked on you, your chest heaving as you came down, kissing his neck "Get on the bed f’me, baby," he commanded, his voice thick with desire. "I want to taste every inch of you." And so you did as he asked, your body still buzzing from the intensity of your climax downstairs. You laid back on the soft sheets, your eyes never leaving his as he stood before you, his erection straining against his trousers. With deliberate movements, Trent undressed, revealing his toned, sculpted body. He pulled his shirt over his head and your jaw slacked as his muscles flexed. Your mouth went dry as you took in the sight of him, his cock thick and hard, straining towards you. He climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between your thighs, his eyes smoldering with hunger. "You're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his hands caressing your inner thighs, spreading you open. "I'm gonna eat you out until you beg me to stop." You nodded. You were borderline delirious. The first time you had to be quiet, you almost had to be quick before but so far… this had been a complete 180 from that and it was proving to somehow be even better. His head lowered, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. He teased you, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, kissing over the faded remnant of his last visit to your core, making you squirm with anticipation. Finally, his tongue found your aching clit, flicking and swirling, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Oh God, Trent," you moaned, your hands threading to grip his hair, holding him close. "Your mouth feels so good. Don't stop, please." He chuckled against your skin, his smugness palpable but you didn’t care, the vibrations sent shivers down your spine, it felt too good. 

"You taste so sweet, baby. I could do this all night." His tongue delved deeper, penetrating your wetness, licking and sucking, driving you wild. You were lost in a haze of pleasure, your body responding to his every touch. His fingers joined his tongue, thrusting into your tight hole, stretching and filling you. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, please, baby!" you cried out, your hips bucking against his face. Trent's mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony, driving you to the brink of another mind-blowing orgasm. Trent could feel his cock getting so hard from hearing and watching and making you cum. He was almost about to explode himself but he needed to experience it again. He was obsessed. 

"Cum for me again, baby," he urged, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let me feel you squeeze around my fingers. Be my good girl again." Your body obeyed, the sensations overwhelming you as you tumbled over the edge once more. Your cries filled the room as your pussy clenched and spasmed around his invading fingers. As your tremors subsided, Trent slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving you breathless and spent. He rose above you, his cock poised at your entrance, ready to claim what was his. "You're so fucking responsive, baby. I love how you cum for me." You reached up, running your hands over his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath your touch. 

"I need more of you, T. Please, I need you inside me. I want to make you cum now, baby." You told him as he positioned himself at your entrance, his cock teasing your wetness.

"Tell me what you want, baby. I want to hear you beg." Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but your desire overrode any inhibitions. 

"Please, T," you pleaded, your voice thick with need. "Fuck me, hard. I want to feel you deep inside me. I want to be a good girl for you.” Your words went straight to his cock. He smiled deviously and with one swift thrust, he slid inside,  filling you completely, in your lustful haze forgetting condoms existed. Your eyes widened at the sensation of his thick shaft stretching you, taking you by surprise. "Oh my God," you gasped, your body adjusting to his size. 

"You like that, huh?" he grunted, his voice strained. "You love my cock inside you, don't you, baby?"  You nodded, unable to form words, your body already building towards another climax. Trent began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke hitting your sweet spot you’d never known before. “Take my cock. That’s it.” He growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his possession. The pleasure was intense, each thrust sending sparks of ecstasy through your body. You matched his rhythm, your hips rising to meet his, your breasts bouncing with each impact. 

"Oh fuck, baby. You’re so deep." you chanted, your nails digging into his back, marking him as your own. Trent's eyes rolled back as he pounded into you, his control slipping with each thrust. Your mind turning to mush. You couldn’t think of anything else but the roll of Trents hips. Each thrust clouding your mind more. His lips coming to kiss and suck on your exposed collarbone. 

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby. I want you to cum on my cock. I need to feel you– Fuck!” Trent grunted. You were wrong the first time, that wasn't the best sex either of you had ever had… this was. Your body was on fire, your pussy clenching and milking his shaft, desperate for his release. 

"Cum inside me T," you begged, your voice hoarse. “I want you to fill me up, please." You whined. His thrusts starting to become sloppier.  Hearing you say that made his mind go blank. He tried to ask you ‘what?’ Or ‘are you sure?’ But he couldn't process what you were saying. It turned him on too much to even think straight. “Please, I need you. I want to feel you cum.” You demanded wrapping your legs around his waist tighter, holding him to you. 

“Baby…” Trent grunted, not sure what to do. He felt like he was glitching; he couldn't process both minds. 

“I’m on birth control, please T… Do it, baby. Please.” You whined pathetically. It’s all you could think about. It’s all you wanted. You wanted to feel him. So you clenched around him and he moaned. He reached down between your body’s to rub your clit in sync with his rough pace. 

“Yeah? Alright, I’ll give you what you want, baby.  I’m gonna… fuck…” He babbled through words. You nodded as the knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter. 

“Oh fuck…” You whined as he hit your g spot again and again relentlessly. You gripped his biceps, nails leaving crescent marks on his tanned toned arms. 

“Doing so good, baby. I got you. I’m gonna cum. Shit! Squeezing me so fucking tight.” He grunted still thrusting into you as his abs tensed. His eyes rolled back a little with deep breaths. He let out a guttural roar as he plunged deep, his cock throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. Wave after wave of his hot cum filled your depths, triggering another earth-shattering orgasm within you. Your body quivered as your pussy tightened around him. Your bodies convulsed together, locked in a blissful embrace as pleasure consumed you both. He slowed almost to a halt as his cock pulsed inside your warm pussy. He pumped you full of his cum, painting your insides. He caught your lips with a sweet kiss.  As your tremors subsided, Trent collapsed onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He turned towards you though just in time to see your eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "You okay? Did so good f’me. You were incredible, baby.” He kissed your temple pulling you tight to him. He smiled, his eyes full of affection. You hummed but couldn’t get any words out just yet, completely spent. You snuggled closer, your fingers tracing the contours of his face.  He captured your hand, pressing a tender kiss to your palm. Trent kissed your forehead and rolled off the bed. “Stay right there f’me. One minute” He cooed softly.

“You’re perfect,” You giggled quietly as Trent returned with a warm towel gently wiping up your thighs and sensitive core. He was so soft as he worked his way around, cleaning you up, leaving kisses on your warm skin after it was wiped clean. He laid down next to you and you just stared at him appreciatively. 

“Okay… all good, baby?” He tenderly asked. You nodded, pulling him into you. As you lay there, entwined in each other's arms, you knew that this night had changed everything. The secret you shared would bind you together, and the passion that ignited between you was burning brighter than ever before.

Naively, you hadn't exactly anticipated waking up naked and tangled in your brother's best friend's sheets after the club, feeling the steady rhythm of Trent's heartbeat under your cheek. As reality set in, you let out a quiet groan, a mix of bliss and uncertainty. You really liked Trent, but what were you both doing? What were you thinking? Sure you didn’t kiss at the club but anyone could've seen you together last night. Not to mention what happened in the privacy of Trent’s bed last night. This wasn't fair to Jack. Yet, the warmth of Trent's arms around you made it hard to think of anything else. Then suddenly you could feel those gorgeous brown eyes fixed on you. 

"Stop staring at me," you giggled sleepily, sensing Trent's gaze on you as you lay draped across his chest.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his fingers tracing light circles on your bare back, pulling you from every nagging worry.

"Stop," you muttered shyly. "Also, you've 100% seen me sleep before..."

"Not like this," he replied, his voice soft but teasing. "Not in my bed, not on top of me, not naked... definitely not after we had sex." His smirk made you both laugh and blush, but you didn't pull away.

"Did I live up to your expectations?" you teased, hiding a bit of genuine curiosity.

"Surpassed them," he whispered, tilting your face to look at him. "From the first kiss," he added, his eyes warm, making you feel seen in a way that felt new and thrilling. You cuddled closer, sighing into his warmth, a quiet, affectionate 

"My T..." escaping your lips in a soft murmur. Trent's lips curled into a smile. 

"Yeah? Yours now?” He teased as a wave of embarrassment and surprise washed over you. You felt the urge to pull back, realizing what you'd just said. You felt it, you felt he’d been yours for forever but now with your arms around him it felt more real. You just regretted saying it aloud massively.  But before you could say anything more to backtrack, he beat you to it. "Good. I like that." His voice was a gentle reassurance, grounding you in the moment. You couldn't help but smile, pressing closer into his embrace, thinking that maybe-just maybe-this was worth all the risk. You stayed in bed, savoring the lingering warmth and thrill of the night before, feeling like you were tangled up in the best and most complicated decision of your life. Trent stretched beside you, rubbing the back of his neck. He groaned, dramatizing his soreness. 

“I gotta run to training, baby,” he murmured, sitting up, his voice hesitant. “But you know, like… where stuff is, or… I don’t know,” he added with a shy laugh, glancing over at you.

“It’s fine,” you assured him, trying to mask the slight guilt you felt for even being at his place. “I can let myself out.” You shyly told him. But Trent shook his head, looking at you earnestly. 

“Nah, I don’t mean that. I meant…” He paused, then took a deep breath. “If you want, you could… hang out, y’know? Till I get back.” A small, hopeful smile played on his lips. He wanted more than just a hook-up, but he also didn’t want to push you too much, too soon. There was a fine line here. You knew each other so well already so it was hard to find the right medium. 

“Okay…” you replied softly, rolling over and nuzzling deeper into his bed, feeling the comforting scent of him on the sheets. It was the softest, most comfortable place you’d ever been, and every inch of you wanted to stay wrapped in that feeling. Trent leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder blade, lingering just a moment. He rested his forehead there, warm and content. The quiet promise hung between you both, and when he finally pulled away, the smile on his face mirrored your own. This was everything you’d ever dreamed of.

That night and the following day made everything very real for you. You would text but it was tense. Not in a negative way, just in a dangerous way. It was flirty but cautious. Neither of you knew what the other wanted out of this. It was insane you were doing this, risking it all, but it felt far too forward to just jump into something like dating. It was hard not to wonder if this was all just a physical thrill for him. He could get any girl, so why just use you for that… But in any case you weren’t exactly going to stop him. The two times you had sex were the best of your life. The days after would unfold in a series of stolen glances and held-back smiles, a mix of excitement and uncertainty hovering between you and Trent. Now that you both knew how good the sex was, you made sure not to spend too much time alone, knowing full well how easily things would spiral. Whenever he’d text you something cheeky, it’d leave you grinning and tense all at once. The messages bounced back and forth, his words flirty but guarded, your responses mirroring the same cautious playfulness. Both of you circled around what you wanted, but neither quite daring to define it. The tension simmered, unspoken questions lingering. Did he just want something physical? Was this a fling, or was he holding back for the same reasons you were? A small part of you worried, wondering if he saw this as a thrill, something exciting but ultimately fleeting. But another part of you couldn’t let it go—not when the chemistry felt this real, this undeniable. Not after some of the things he’d said to you. So you found yourself slipping further into it… into him, savoring the anticipation, not ready to pull back even as you held on tightly to the ‘what ifs.’ For now, neither of you were stopping, and maybe that was all that mattered.

One evening, you returned home from a dinner with friends, laughter still lingering on your lips when you saw him there…Trent, perched at the kitchen island next to your brother, Jack. The ease you'd felt moments ago fizzled into something else entirely, a mix of excitement and nerves. You hadn't expected him to be here tonight, and the realization set off a charge between you that felt impossible to ignore. Trent's eyes found yours the second you walked in, and you saw something flicker in his gaze. The cocky confidence he usually wore so easily faltered; he swallowed, letting his eyes flutter closed for just a second, as if seeing you threw him off balance. He knew he should've texted to give you a heads-up, but he didn't know the rules any more than you did. Were there rules at all? There had been no conversations, no ‘what are we doing’ talks, only late-night touches and whispered promises that lingered like secrets. Now, here he was, in your space again, and the unspoken tension between you felt all the more real with Jack in the room. 

Jack was hunched over, engrossed in a tub of ice cream as he scooped out of it directly with a spoon, clearly settled in the comforts of his own home. You walked over and playfully swiped a bit off the lid, the cold against your finger a welcome distraction as you licked it off. The whole time, you could feel Trent's gaze tracking every movement, his stare so intense you almost felt heat radiate off him. When you glanced up, his eyes were fixed on you, almost as if willing himself to look away. You sucked on your finger pretending to be innocent purring a ‘yum.’ He shut his eyes briefly, as though watching you was more than he could bear. Once the ice cream was cleanly off your finger and you knew Trent was locked in you casually peeled off the sweatshirt you had on, too aware of the way your shirt underneath it clung to your frame and you wanted to show him just that. As you pulled the jumper over your head, the fabric of your top underneath rose up, you watched as Trent's jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to the bare skin revealed beneath the hem. He mouthed ‘stop; at you, his eyes pleading, though his lips hinted at a smirk, like he was caught between amusement and frustration. You couldn't help but return the smirk, leaning into the innocence of the moment while savoring the effect it had on him. As you moved to brush past Trent's kitchen island stool, your hand slid against the cool countertop, steadying you as you sent him a flirtatious look. Jack, completely oblivious but mildly annoyed by your stealing swipe, reached for the ice cream tub and turned to walk back over to the freezer to put it away with a small grumble. Tren wasn't having your teasing though. As Jack’s back turned, his hand shot out, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer with enough possessiveness to make your breath catch. His fingers pressed into your side, holding you in place as he leaned in, his voice low and rough against your ear.

"Stop it," he whispered, his words a command masked in a tease, his breath hot against your skin. His smirk was still there, but you could sense he was barely keeping his composure. You swallowed, feeling his grip tighten ever so slightly, each inch between you charged with electricity. “Thought you liked being a good girl f’me?” His voice was soft, teasing, and you felt his fingers flex against your waist. He chuckled under his breath. His fingers slid from your waist just as Jack shut the refrigerator door, your cheeks flushed as you stepped back, trying to steady your breathing and maintain the playful pretense. But the truth was, every touch, every glance was unraveling the control you'd both been clinging to. Jack turned back around, oblivious once more, but you and Trent exchanged another look, the kind that said everything you couldn't out loud. The thrill was undeniable, but beneath it all was a question that neither of you wanted to ask-was this just a game, or was there something more? And with Jack so close, both of you knew one thing: the stakes were only getting higher.

You headed up to your room, turning down the invitation to join Jack, Trent, and their friends who’d since come over for another movie night. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but being in the same room as Trent right now—so close, yet unable to act on how you felt—seemed like torture. And in addition to that torture you couldn’t do this to Jack. The touches in the kitchen were already unfair. Not in his own home. You needed space to cool down, away from the tension that always sparked whenever Trent was near. But once upstairs, your phone buzzed. It was Trent, and just seeing his name on your screen made your heart race.

The message read, casual but with an undertone you couldn’t quite place. You smirked, already forming a response in your head.

You replied, keeping it short and sweet, trying to play it cool. You didn’t want him to think you were avoiding him, even if part of you was.  Seconds later, another buzz. 

You couldn’t help but laugh. It was a little inside joke between you two. Trent always teased you about your habit of talking through films, but secretly, you knew he liked your commentary and questions. And now, you definitely knew he liked your company. Your fingers hovered over the screen as you typed out a response, trying to ignore how giddy you felt.

His next message came in almost immediately, and it stopped you in your tracks. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to read it twice just to make sure you weren’t imagining things. Was he really asking what you thought he was asking? You stared at your phone, biting your lip as a wave of nervous excitement washed over you. This wasn’t a casual hangout invite—it felt like something more. Something you’d both been skirting around for too long. Your mind raced as you considered how to respond, trying to balance your excitement with the need to not come off too eager. You didn’t think it was a date but it was hanging out alone and not some sort of drunk lustful afterthought. 

You finally typed, keeping your tone light, though inside, your pulse quickened. You didn’t want to give away how much this meant to you—not yet. You were relieved Trent’s reply came fast.

You flopped back onto your bed, covering your face with a pillow to muffle the excited squeal that escaped your lips. Your legs kicked the air as your mind raced. Was this really happening? The thought of being alone with him, away from prying eyes, sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite suppress. You typed out your next reply, trying to keep your cool. 

You typed feeling mildly braver.

Trent texted back, simple, direct, and flirty… and perfect. All of it somehow made it even more exciting. You tossed your phone onto the bed, rolling over as a grin spread across your face. You couldn’t even play it cool on the outside, inside, you were buzzing but your texts read calm… at least you hoped they did. Regardless, Trent and you had just decided the line was officially gone and you couldn’t wait to see what happened now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 5 xx

[musings-of-a-rose]

Hi, just wanted to say that I love your work! Especially with Benny and Frankie so much that I have an idea for Benny! Female reader (not picky about the name) meets Benny at a bar days after she catches her now ex-boyfriend cheating on her and they hook up at his place, but she leaves before he wakes up. She later finds out she's pregnant but doesn't tell anyone who the father is. Months later while still pregnant, her friends convince her to come with them to see a MMA fight and low and behold Benny is there fighting. He doesn't see her at first, but when the fight ends (which he wins) he sees her and she leaves abruptly while hiding her stomach since she's wearing baggy clothing. However, Benny manages to catch up to her, where she reveals the news to him. They then talk some more at her place where he reveals to her that she's been on his mind ever since that night and begins the start of something new.

One Night Can Change Everything

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader 

Word Count: 6400+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Rea is a general nickname for a “reader” character that @mermaidxatxheart came up with and I think that’s genius! This is not beta’d.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

“Ok, that’s it. I’m making you get out of this bed now,” My best friend Sage declares as she towers over my bed, where I have lived for the past several days. Ever since I caught my boyfriend sleeping with my co-worker. Co-workerS.

Ex-boyfriend now, I suppose. 

I groan, attempting to roll over but Sage grabs my shoulder and flips me back over, digging her fingers lovingly into my skin. “I love you Rea, I do. But you have to get out of this bed. He’s not worth it.”

She’s right. I know she is. But we had been dating for nearly 2 years, mostly. It was on and off, but we had talked about marriage, kids, all of it. I thought he would be my forever but apparently, I was his “for now”. 

Fuck this asshole.

I sit up quickly, nearly colliding with Sage, and yank the covers off me, determination flooding my veins, choking out the hurt. For now, at least. 

“Alright, alright. I’m up.”

Sage points to the bathroom. “First, please take a shower. Then we’re going to Mick’s.” 

I’d almost forgotten about Mick’s, Sage’s favorite bar. Probably because it’s full of rugged, blue-collar men and Sage definitely has a type. Not that I can blame her. 

“Ok, but I’m just going for you. And science.”

Sage snorts. “Sure, Rea. Sure. Don’t forget to shave.”

—--------------

An hour later and I’m walking into Mick’s front door, loud music vibrating through me. It’s busy, but I’ve seen it busier and we manage to snag a couple of stools at the bar. Within 10 minutes, Sage is led to the dance floor by some burly lumberjack, complete with flannel shirt and all. I throw my hand up in the air in a “what about me” motion as she glances behind her, shrugging and gesturing around the room before focusing all of her attention on the flannel clad bear of a man in front of her, who is surprisingly agile. I turn back to the bar, taking my hand off the top of my glass, tossing the last of the liquid down my throat, coughing slightly at the burn. I set my glass down, my finger trailing along the rim, wondering if I should call an Uber or wait for my friend, when a man slides in next to me, flagging down the bartender. 

“5 beers, please.” His voice has a slight drawl to it, his tone warming me all over. 

“Seems a lot for one man.” Where the hell did that courage come from?

The man, clad in a button up light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up that opens to reveal a camo print shirt, turns his head to me and for what feels like days, I’m rendered speechless. This man is gorgeous - a sloping nose,  sandy blonde hair that flips out from behind his backward hat, some patchy facial hair, and the most intensely blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They glance quickly down my body and back up, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Ain’t all for me, sweetheart. Got a table full of impatient assholes waiting for a beer.”

I cock my head to the side. “You lose a bet or something?”

The man tips his head back and laughs, his shoulders shaking with it and I feel my body tingle. I could listen to that sound forever. 

“How the hell did you know that?” His smile is wide, all of his attention on me, his eyebrows raised in question.

I shrug. “I’d send the guy who lost a bet to get the first round, at least.”

He chuckles. “Smart girl…I’m Ben. Friends call me Benny.”

I tell him my name. “But my friends call me Rea.”

“I like that. Nice to meet you, Rea.” He sticks his hand out to shake mine, but before I can, 4 beers slide in front of him and he glances down at them, his shoulders dropping ever so slightly. 

Finding courage from somewhere, I lay my hand on his forearm and have to resist squeezing. “You have to go back so soon?”

He smiles again, the skin around his eyes crinkling with it. “Nah, sweetheart. I’ll be right back. Promise me you’ll wait right here?” There go the eyebrows again, pulling together and making him look like a puppy. Fuck I am so screwed.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He hesitates for a brief second before taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “Now that’s something to make a man move fast.” He winks, grabs the four beers, and heads off into the crowd, making his way towards the back of the room. Hate to see him leave, but damn I’m loving watching him go, his 6’3 frame easily visible over the crowd. He drops off the beers somewhere at the back of the room, turning quickly to push his way back through the crowd, his eyes locking on mine and giving me a sly smile. 

“You waited.” He slides back into the barstool next to me as I pull my leg from it, the universal gesture for this is saved.

Fuck his eyes are so blue. “You came back.”

A smile plays at the corner of his lips. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

I look down for a moment, my mind going back to my ex and all of his cheating, making me feel less than. Benny seems to sense something, his large hand hesitating a moment before he gently squeezes my arm. “You ok?”

I shake my head, my eyes locking back on his blues. “Yeah. I’m great now you’re here.”

Benny is easy to talk to, fun, and flirty. He’s in Delta Force, or was, with his actual brother, one of the men that he’d owed a beer to earlier. We talk about everything and anything, Benny eventually pulling me to the dance floor and whisking me about, sometimes dancing and other times being silly and smiling when I laugh. After several songs, we need a break, managing to snag a couple of stools at the bar, sipping on a couple of drinks. 

“So you live local?” He asks me, taking another swig from his beer.

I nod. “Yeah. I don’t typically come here, but my friend Sage dragged me out of the house.”

“Well remind me to thank her. She here?”

“Actually,” I turn and look out at the crowd for several moments, finally seeing her in the back corner, making out with Flannel Bear Man. I chuckle. “Yeah, she’s a little occupied.”

Benny chuckles, taking another swig of his beer, his free hand hesitating a moment before landing on my bare thigh, just above my knee. “Well I can keep you company.” 

His warm hand against my skin has my brain short-circuiting. I can’t think of what to say so I return his question. “Are you local?”

He nods, his thumb slowly rubbing circles across my skin. “Yeah. But some water main or somethin’ broke in my building. They put us all up in hotels until they fix it. Burst a few pipes.”

“Oh no! Is your stuff ok?” I place my hand over his on my leg, giving it a little squeeze and move it further up my thigh, heat immediately rushing to an area not far from where his hand is. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, y-yeah. Well, I had some water damage but didn’t lose anythin’ big. They just have to put down new floors.”

The music volume suddenly goes up by several volumes, turning the place into a mini club. Benny winces and I can see that it triggers him, the loud sounds and people becoming a little much. I lean in closer to his ear, gently rubbing circles into the back of his hand. 

“It’s too fucking loud! Wanna get out of here?” I pull my head back to look at him, our faces only an inch apart. His eyes flit between mine, briefly pausing on my lips.

“If you’re sure, hell yeah.”

I smile and he returns it before I lean back into his ear. “Let me flag my friend down and let her know. Stay right here so I don’t lose you.”

He turns his head, his nose brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be right here.” Hating that I have to move, I gently place his hand on his thigh and give him a wink before turning, scanning the corner where I had last seen Sage. She’s still there, Flannel Bear Man sucking on her neck. I force my way through the crowd and eventually emerge in front of her. Sage’s gaze takes a moment to settle on me.

“Rea! Where’ve you been?” She yells above the music.

I gesture to where I came from. “At the bar. Waiting for you.”

She gasps as Flannel Bear Man starts to bite her skin. “S-sorry, Rea. I-”

I cut her off, not wanting to intrude any longer. “No worries. I’m getting out of here. With a guy. I’ll get an Uber.”

Sage reaches out and grips my wrist, breaking the suction from Flannel Man who only seems to just realize I’m standing here. 

“A guy? You found someone? Do you need condoms?”

“Sage! I have to go!”

“Wait!” She pulls her clutch from somewhere and digs around in it, quickly sliding a few foiled square packages in my hand. “ Remember, it’s just a rebound. Don’t get attached. Have fun and be safe!”

I can’t help the heat in my cheeks, but I tuck the condoms in my bag. “Thanks. I’ll ping you my location.”

Sage releases my wrist and smiles at me before I turn back to Benny, shoving my way through more bodies on the dance floor. I emerge on the other side and see him still sitting where I left him, hat turned backward and looking so fucking hot. 

This is all so unlike me, but I like Benny. Sage’s words echo through my head “it’s just a rebound. Have some fun.”

I walk up to Benny and he turns his head, standing and giving me a wide smile. “Ready to go, sweetheart?”

I nod and he offers me his hand, which I happily accept, his touch warming me all over as he guides us through the crowd and out the front door, the volume immediately decreasing the moment the door closes behind us. 

“Now I can hear myself think!” Benny chuckles as he pulls my hand to his lips, lightly brushing them against my knuckles, his puppy dog eyes on mine. “Did you drive?

“Hhhm? Oh, uh no. Uber.”

Benny nods. “I have my jeep. I can drive us somewhere? Unless you’d feel safer using Uber?”

I study him for a moment, deciding that I trust him. “I love Jeeps.”

He smiles, his grip on my hand tightening slightly as he directs me to the parking lot, chatting a little too fast about his Jeep, like he’s nervous. He helps me into the passenger side, sliding across the hood to make it to the driver’s side quicker, smiling at my laugh. He starts the Jeep and gets the ac started before turning to me.

“Where to?”

It’s just a rebound. Have fun. “I’d love to see your hotel.”

His eyebrows raise, that same smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah? You don’t have to. I mean, we could just get a burger or somethin’.”

I look down at my hands in my lap. Did I misread the signals? He was definitely coming on to me, right? I wasn’t reading into that? Before I can spiral further, Benny puts his hand over mine. “Hey, look. I like you and think you’re fucking hot as hell and would love to take you to my room to uh, show you the room. But I don’t want to presume or make you feel obligated or anything.”

I would choose a fucking gentlemen for a rebound. Fuck. I close my hand over his and meet his eyes. “Thanks, Benny. I don’t want to push you or presume either.”

He chuckles once, removing his hand to put his Jeep in reverse and then back into drive. “Sweetheart, you can take advantage of me any day.”

That breaks the awkwardness and has us laughing, falling back into conversation easily as Benny navigates through traffic. Gently, I lay his hand on my bare thigh again, wrapping my hand over his. He’s talking about something, I honestly can’t focus because he’s started to move, his fingers tracing slow lines across my skin as his hand moves further up my leg, getting closer to where I desperately want him to be. We hit a red light and the Jeep goes quiet, Benny turning to look at me as he slides his hand further up, his pinkie finger just barely tracing the crease of my thigh, heat and wet pooling just beyond his touch. My lips part and I let out a gasp of air, my eyes finding his. 

There’s a moment of hesitation but then I grip his shirt, pulling him towards me, our lips crashing together. He nips at my bottom lip and I gasp, Benny taking full advantage to slide his tongue into my open mouth, a small moan escaping me. His free hand leaves the steering wheel to grip the back of my head, holding me to him as he explores my mouth. The car behind us honks and we jump apart, the light having already turned green. Benny sticks his hand up to apologize to the car behind us, driving on, but immediately places his hand back on me, this time, his pinkie grazes up my panties and I squirm a little in my seat, not used to this much attention. He stills his movements.

“Is it too much?” He’s actually concerned.

“More like, not enough.”

Benny makes it to his hotel in record time.

Heated touches and kisses down the hallway has Benny dropping his room key a few times. As he tries to jam it into the lock, I slide my hands around him from behind, moving up his stomach from under his shirt and fuck he has a nice body, my hands moving lightly over his toned chest. He finally jams the key into the lock and flings the door open, tossing his keys on top of the dresser. He spins back around to face me, his eyes blown wide and dark with lust. 

He swallows hard. “Are you…are you sure?”

I step close to Benny, gently take his wrist and turn his hand palm up. One hand still holding his, I open my bag and fish out one of the foil squares, and place the condom in Benny’s hand. He glances down at it before looking back at me, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Rea, did you get a condom from your friend?”

I can feel the heat blooming in my cheeks. “No! I mean, technically yes but she-”

He cuts me off with his lips, one hand wrapped around my head and the other grips my hips, fingers digging into my skin as he pulls me flush against him. I can feel him hard beneath his jeans and I moan into his kiss, pressing myself against him so I can try to relieve some of the rapidly increasing hear between my thighs. He moves us and I feel the bed hit the back of my knees, but he holds me tighter before breaking the kiss. Both of us rip the shirts from our bodies, my bra quickly following. I reach for my pants but he grabs my wrists and stills them, his blue eys falling to my chest. He gently cups a boob and lightly pinches the nipple and I gasp, the small movement shooting straight between my legs. 

Then Benny sinks to his knees, eye level with my pants. He pops open the button on my jeans, sliding them down my legs where I help him kick them off. His large fingers trace the outline of my panties, the heat pooling there as I gasp at his touch. He hooks his fingers into them and slides them down my legs too, his eyes locked on the space between my thighs. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he half whispers. A half chuckle escapes me before it turns into a moan as he slides his nose up my slit, bumping into my clit. He growls, using my hips to push me down on the bed, tossing my legs over his shoulders like it was nothing. 

Which I have no time to think about because his mouth is on me, his hands on my inner thighs, pressing them further apart, widening his canvas. His tongue explores me, seeking all the areas that have me writhing under his firm grip. He somehow finds spots that I didn’t even know existed, sucking lightly, lapping, the coil of pleasure quickly tightening until a sound erupts from me, somewhere between a chant and a moan, my fingers gripping his hair to keep him in the same spot as he prolongs my release. 

My head is in a blissful haze, but I manage a whine as he pulls away from me, taking his pants off when he does. I hear the sound of the condom opening and I watch him as he rolls the condom on himself. I lean up on my elbows to see better, because he’s gorgeous, not girthy but longer, and definitely not anywhere near a size I’ve had in me. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take my time.” I blink, looking up at his face and see that there’s a hint of concern there, like he wants to make sure I’m comfortable.

I scoot further up on the bed to give him more space. “Don’t worry about me. I can take you.”

His eyes darken and he grabs my ankle, yanking me back down towards the end of the bed. I squeal, my body heating up again as he lowers himself between my legs. He pauses, his eyes bright as he glances between my own. 

“You’re so beautiful,” there’s that almost whisper voice again, his eyebrows pulling together so he looks like a puppy.

“So are you, Benny.” We take each other in for a few more moments, my body about to burst with all of the tension and hormones racing through it. “Now please fuck me, now.” I know I’m begging, but I don’t care. 

And neither does Benny, apparently, as he smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

He slowly presses his hips forward and I let out a moan as he stretches me, pushing further and further in. I’m not sure how, but he bottoms out, dropping his head to my chest, breathing heavy for a moment. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Gimme a sec so I don’t blow my load like a teenager.”

I manage some sort of confirmation sound, but then a moment later, he slowly pulls out and presses back in, repeating this a few times so I can adjust to his length. It’s driving me mad and I writhe under him, feeling every inch of him as he slowly moves in and out of me. He pulls out, his hips pausing as he looks down at me and it’s like time stops. Just for a moment. Then his lips crash to mine as he pushes forward quickly, sliding into me in one fast movement and I cry out, my hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin as his hips set a fast pace, his direction and speed adjusting to my moans of pleasure. Every time he pushes in, he hits a spot somewhere at the back of me, a place no one has touched, and it sends sparks through my vision, my entire body like a livewire as he pushes me towards the edge.

“Fuck, Benny, I’m gonna-” my body ignites, pleasure radiating out from my cunt, his name tumbling from my lips in praise, begging him to keep going, or stop, or do it again. I have no idea, my head so engulfed in pleasure. 

“Fuck!” He yells, pressing into me one last time before he grunts, little pants and gasps tumbling from him. His head falls to my chest as he comes down. 

We stay like that for several moments, trying to catch our breath. Eventually, Benny pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash can by the bed before rolling onto his back next to me.

“What’s your third favorite dinosaur?”

I laugh, my entire body moving with it as Benny joins in, tears running down our cheeks as my movements turn me towards him. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question, let alone just after sex.”

Benny shrugs, smiling. “Had to break the tension and awkwardness somehow.” 

“Well that definitely works!”

His face grows serious. “You didn’t answer the question.”

After that laughing fit, I think on it a moment. “Pterodactyl. Because they can fly.”

Benny nods. “Interesting. What’s your favorite then?”

“Nope. I’m saving that answer for after round 2.”

His eyes grow dark almost instantly. “Round 2? Like, tonight?”

“Well, my friend gave me a whole row of condoms and I don’t want to take any home.”

—----

A few hours later, I’m laying in Benny’s bed, thoroughly fucked, Benny sprawled across the bed on his stomach, lightly snoring. He’s so fucking beautiful. But then Sage’s words echo in my head “It’s just a rebound. Have fun and bounce.” I sigh, unsure of what to do. I actually do like Benny, but is that just because he’s the first guy to actually pay attention to me in a long while? Self-doubt seeps in, my ex’s hurtful words and actions taking away the blissful feeling I’d had moments before. I shake my head, telling myself that if any of it was true, I wouldn’t be in a gorgeous man’s bed, a man who just spent the last few hours pulling every spark of pleasure possible from me. 

I quietly stand, gathering up my clothes. I get them on and lace up my boots, trying not to wake Benny. It’s better if I leave before he wakes up. Rebounds don’t work out anyway, so why prolong the inevitable? 

I turn to head towards the door and see the hotel pad of paper and pen next to the phone on the dresser. I stare at it a moment before grabbing the pen, scrawling a quick “Thank You” with a heart at the end. I slide it under his keys and walk to the door, glancing back at the sleeping form of Benny, the man who just restored my confidence. I close it quietly behind me, making sure the lock clicks into place and request an Uber to take me home. 

—----

Over the next few weeks, I try to get Benny out of my head. I try to stop thinking about him or talking about him. I know he’s a rebound, and those relationships don’t work out, as Sage has reminded me more than once. And I’m not sure I’m ready for a new relationship. I think. But talking to him had been so easy, effortless. Like we had been friends since forever. In a moment of desperation, I looked up the hotel on my Uber app and called it, knowing they wouldn’t give me any information about Benny. I can’t blame them. I don’t even know his last name. 

—----

2 lines. The pink lines emerge bright against the white of the testing stick, showing me the same result as the other 4 pregnancy tests I’d taken. My stomach lurches again and I make it to the toilet just in time. I close the lid and flush, wiping my mouth with a washcloth as I stare at my reflection. How the fuck did this happen? We’d used a condom every time, and he used them correctly. It must have been a faulty condom. Fuck, Benny. How am I going to tell him? No really, how? I don’t even know his last name and now I’m having his child. A knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.

“Rea?”

I sniff and wipe my face again. “Pregnant.”

She’s silent for just a beat. “Can I come in?”

I make a noise in approval and she opens the door, heads directly for me and pulls me into a hug where I let myself lose it. Tears streaming down my face, dry heaving breaths, all of it. It takes me a while to calm down enough to talk. Sage wipes my face with a cool cloth and it helps to soothe me a bit more. 

“Are you going to tell him?”

I scoff. “How, Sage?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Call the hotel? They have to have his info.”

I shake my head. “They won’t give it to me. Especially since I don’t know his last name.”

Sage cocks her head to the side. “How do you know?”

“Oh. I uh, I may have called a few weeks ago to uh try and uh…find. Him.”

She opens her mouth and then closes it. “That doesn’t really matter now. Do you know what you want to do?”

There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t know Benny’s last name. I don’t know where he lives, just that it’s local. I don’t know what he’d even say. I don’t know how this happened. I don’t know a lot. But there’s one thing that I did know right away.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

Sage takes a deep breath and nods once. “I can’t wait to be an auntie.”

—----

“Come on, Rea! You need to get out.”

I sigh, rubbing the side of my belly. “I’m 6 months pregnant, Sage. I don’t belong at an MMA fight.”

Sage copies my sigh and places her hand over mine. “You’ve been cooped up in your room for weeks. Just…come out to get some fresh air?”

“By sitting in a crowded auditorium surrounded by drunks?”

Sage shrugs. “I’m sure they won’t be drunk drunk. Besides, Henry has a special section all roped off just for us.” 

Henry is super sweet. The burly bear sized, flannel clad man from Mick’s had fit right into our friendship, even becoming a sort of surrogate brother for me. And it’s clear to me that he loves Sage with everything he is just by the way he looks at her.

I sigh again, shrugging in a defeated manner. Sage squeals and grips my arm. “Thank you! Oh, you’ll have fun! Just wait and see!”

So now I find myself in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by people drinking. Well, ok the crowd isn’t bad around us. Sage was right - Henry had literally roped off an entire section just for us and glared at anyone who tried to grumble about it. He was really into MMA and had a couple of cousins that were fighting so he always had tickets to some match that was happening. Are they called matches? I don’t know. 

Whatever they’re called, we’re a few in, Henry leaning over to tell us about each of the fighters as they’re announced. These matches are pretty brutal - I didn’t realize just how violent they can get, even with rules in place. The last match ends and the guy with the mop comes back out, cleaning away the blood that came from the last guy losing several teeth with a blow. Once cleaned, the microphone squeaks back on to announce the next fighters.

“From Red Feather Lakes, Colorado, standing 6’3, weighing in at 195 pounds, I give you BEN MILLER!”

A familiar memory scratches at the back of my head as the crowd screams and the doors open from the locker rooms somewhere in the throngs of people now on their feet. Henry leans in to yell in my ear.

“This guy is great! He’s kicked my cousin’s asses a few times! He…”

Whatever he said after fades into the background, which has dimmed to a loud hum, as Ben Miller struts into the ring, tossing his shirt to the side, revealing a very familiar tattoo and his face finally comes into my view.

Benny. 

My stomach leaps into my throat, my heart hammering through my chest as I stare down at the man who I could never shake from my mind, even before I was having his child. Which he doesn’t know about. 

A bell dings and Benny takes a few steps towards his opponent, who immediately clocks him in his jaw, Benny’s head flying backwards. The man manages to get a couple more hits in, Benny almost absorbing all of the hits. But then the man hesitates and Benny takes that moment to attack, winding his way around the ring, jabbing at his opponent in swift, concise, planned motions. The man only stays up for a few more seconds before crumbling to the ground and giving in. The crowd goes wild as the ref holds Benny’s arm in the air, blood trickling down from his nose, a giant smile on his face. My stomach lurches and I quickly stand, yelling something about the bathroom to Sage as I grab my jacket and run for the doors, the room suddenly too small and loud. I shove open the arena’s double doors and stumble out into the nearly empty hallway. The doors close behind me and I pause a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself. But then the doors open behind me again and I attempt to stand up right.

“Rea?”

Benny’s voice echoes down the hallway and through me, my insides simultaneously tightening with nerves but also excited and swooning at his fucking calming tone. My back is to him but I don’t move. He takes a step closer.

“Rea? Is that you?”

Fuck. This isn’t how I would want him to find out. But how would he find out? It’s not like I could find him. I didn’t even know his last name. I don’t-

“Are you ok?”

His voice is closer now, only a few steps behind me. I swallow hard, willing myself to hold it together as I turn to face him, keeping my jacket covering my belly. His bright blue eyes immediately find mine, a smile quicking spreading across his beautiful face. He’s still shirtless and I have to focus to keep my eyes on his face.

“Rea! It is you! I thought I saw your face in the crowd! Did you see me fight?”

I manage a small smile. “Y-yeah. I did. Congrats.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. That guy was easy but when I saw you, I thought maybe he’d hit my head harder than I thought. What…I mean uh, how are you?”

I sigh, my small smile dropping. “I…I have to tell you something.”

His expression turns serious. “Ok. But if it’s about me not calling you, you sort of left me without a last name or number.” He chuckles but stops when I don’t react. 

I hold his gaze a moment longer before letting my jacket fall to the side, exposing my belly under my form fitting black dress. His eyes immediately fall to my belly, his head turning to the side as he takes it in. I can see the moment it clicks, only a second or 2 after I moved my jacket, his eyes widening as his brain works double time to do the math. He points to himself.

“Is that…am I…the dad?”

I nod, rubbing my hand along the side of my belly where the baby is currently moving. “Yes.” I wait for the yell or scoff of disbelief, storming off, telling me I won’t get anything. All of what I had anticipated. But when I look up at him I see tears shining in his bright blues.

“You’re not fuckin’ with me?” His eyebrows pinch together, enhancing the shine from his tears and I shake my head.

“No. You’re the only one I’ve been with since my ex.”

His eyes shift down to my belly again and his hands start to reach out, but then he stops, looking back up at me. “May I?”

I give him a small smile and nod. “Yeah.”

Benny drops to his knees in front of me, placing each of his large hands on either side of my belly, rubbing small circles into my skin. I take his hand and move it, placing it right over where I’d just felt movement. 

“He was just kicking over here.”

His eyes shoot up to mine. “A boy? I’m gonna have a son?”

Fuck how can his eyebrows do that? “Yeah. A son.”

And the tears start to fall, quietly streaking down his cheeks as he laughs, trying to dab at them with the hand I hadn’t just moved. “Hey, little man. It’s me. Your dad.” A hard kick lands right in Benny’s hand and he whoops, rubbing the spot with his thumb. “You got your old man’s feet!” He continues to talk to my belly in the middle of the hallway, not caring if anyone sees him. His face is animated and lit up, despite the dried blood caked under his nose and for a second, I can see an entire future laid out before us. A wedding, a house, dancing together, maybe more kids. The love. It’s only when I snap out of this fairytale vision that I realize I was smoothing back his hair. I yank my hands back and drop them to my sides.

“Shit I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

He glances up at me. “Nah it’s ok. Actually, it felt good.” He watches me for a moment before his expression hardens. “Ok I need to get off this floor.”

He waves away my offer of a helping hand, gesturing towards my belly as he groans, standing to his full height before stretching out his legs. “I’m gettin’ too old to be kneeling on hard ass floors.”

We’re quiet for several moments, each of us just watching the other. 

“Why did you leave without sayin’ anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Benny, I…I’m sorry. I thought about you after that night. A lot. My friend had told me to just make it a rebound, to get my ex out of my head. Which it did, but what I didn’t expect was..well..you. I liked, well…like you a lot. You make me laugh, have some amazing stories, you’re funny, and hot as hell. But you also make me feel seen and heard. Like I wasn’t just there for convenience, which is ironic considering how we met, I realize that. I thought about trying to find you but the hotel wouldn’t tell me anything and I didn’t have anything to go by. And then I found out I was pregnant and I feel so guilty for not t- telling y- you, but I di-didn’t know h-how. I’m so s-s-sorry!” I can’t fight the pregnancy hormones anymore and the tears come, streaming down my face as I try to turn away, looking down and wiping furiously at my face. But then he’s there, pulling me towards him as best he can, his hand cradling the back of my head. 

“Hey, it’s ok. I never did tell you my last name or ask for your number neither. I could’ve but I didn’t.” My crying slows and he pulls back just enough to look down at me, wiping away a tear. “And I’ve regretted it ever since. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you either, Rea. But I really had no way of finding you. But now that we’ve found each other again, can I have your number? I’d really like to take you to dinner.”

I let out a shaky chuckle. “It’s ok, Benny. You don’t have to do that.”

He cocks his head. “Do…what?”

“Take me to dinner. Listen, you can be as involved as you want. I won’t hold you to anything. I just wanted you to know. But you don’t have to-”

“No. I’m not asking you out because you’re pregnant. I’m asking you out because I’ve wanted to for months and regretted it every day that I didn’t.”

“Benny, really. It’s ok.”

“No, I- will you wait right here a moment?”

I nod and he places his hand on my belly once more, his son giving him another thump before he practically runs back through the double doors. Once they close, I walk over to the wall and lean my back against it, my emotions running through me. Is he telling the truth? Were we both just fucking idiots? That’s an obvious yes. But still, I don’t want him to feel like he owes me. It would be nice to hang with him again, though. No, Rea. Don’t make him feel forced. The double doors fly open and Benny comes running up to me, his wallet in his hand. 

“I don’t need money, Ben-”

He shakes his head. “No. Well I mean if you need it, I’ll gladly give it but that’s not…here.” He slides out a small slip of paper from behind his driver’s license and unfolds it, handing it to me. 

It’s the thank you note I scribbled to him and left in the hotel.

Tears well in my eyes again. “You..you kept this?” 

His eyes sparkle as they look at me. “Hell yeah I did. I told you, I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you. But I had no way of findin’ you. I went to the bar every night hoping to see you walk in. But I never did.”

“I got too busy with work and then..” I gesture down to my belly and he laughs, placing a hand on my stomach again.

“Yeah I can’t blame you for not wanting to be in a bar. Especially your first trimester.”

My eyebrows raise. “What do you know about trimesters?”

“My sister was a hot fuckin’ mess during hers. Sick all the time, emotional, all of it. She felt bad about it too no matter how much we told her not to worry. My niece is 5 now and has the attitude to match.” He chuckles. “I can’t wait to meet this little guy..my little guy. Ours? Fuck this is hard to say.”

“Either way, I’m just glad you can say it.” I clutch the paper in my hand for a moment before handing it back to him. 

“So when’s that dinner?”

We’re married a year later. 

---------------------------------

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe

@greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi  

@wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso  

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@gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox 

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@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk   

[sykeboy]

AninPin Character (and dynamics?) Analysis part 2

The time has come folks

Pin and Kueshit's wedding has brought our girls to their breaking point and now is a great time to see how they are facing their biggest challenges so far

¿Remember I said I wanted to see what Anin would do when she didn't get what she wanted?

I love Anin but today she was cruel.

I agree that needing space is valid after heartbreak, however, giving Pin false hope and then kicking her while she's down was uncalled for. Pin made a choice she did not like so Anin punished her, and I can't help but compare it to aunt Patt's attitude, and the rest of the royal family's (not you Anan) attitude towards those of lower rank, however polite or harsh they might be, the message is the same: you do as I say I reward you, you don't I punish you. It's classical conditioning at play

Also the fact that Anin is standing on the stairs, making her taller than Pin while Pin literally begs her no to leave was a nice touch that keeps reminding us of the power imbalance between these two

I know I must sound like a hater right now so let's get in to the actual character analysis

In this scene both our girls are super triggered, this makes their personalities condense: get more rigid. That happens in order to give them a sense of safety in times of caos and percieved danger

Anin is confrontative, she confronted her family on the last ep, she confronted Pin on this one, and she confronted the situation about Kuea's wife. Anin takes direct action, this is the way in wich she thinks she can affect her reality. And SHE CAN DO THAT BECAUSE OF HER PRIVILEGE

Anin was not gonna leave until she had tried Every. Single. Thing. She could do in order to stop that wedding

So when Pin decided to marry Kuea, and then again today when she decided not to push back against the wedding Anin took that to heart. She is having a hard time understanding that Pin handles conflict in a different way than she does. Of couse she is heartbroken, not only is she losing the woman she loves, in some part of her brain she thinks Pin must not love her enough to take direct actions against the wedding like she does. She sees Pin's sacrifice as her giving up their love so she's sad and angry (she's also not used to losing)

Now let's do Pin

Pin has serious abandonment trauma, wich started after her parents deaths

When Anin came in to her life she was like a lifeline, promissing to always be by her side, so this scene was particularly hard to watch for me

Again, Pin is super triggered, Anin leaving feels like a huge threat to her. We see Anin has a big safety net, people who care for her. But Pin has none (maybe Prik)

So Pin does what she knows best, she lowers her head, apologises, tries to please as she can, she flagellates herself (she knows Anin is punishing her so she helps her), she says she is disgusted by herself because she chose to marry Kuea, but there is simply no way out of this for her

This frustrates Anin, cause Pin's obedience is affecting her directly, and she cannot actually understand the crossroads Pin is at right now, try as she might, she simply can't

Here Pin explains her line of thought very well, she feels powerless and the only way she knows how to affect her reality is by surrendering to what she thinks is inevitable (and she's not far from reality) this surrender can give her some solace, she has learned that she is helpless so why fight when you can't win

And again she self-flagellates for inflicting pain on Anin (or anyone at that), which is comonly thaught to us women and we see it again on today's episode when Kuea's wife says she does't wanna "ruin his future" by exposing his wrong doings

Still Anin can't understand Pin's choices cause their experiences are way too different and Anin has fought right? So why wouldn't Pin fight for their love as well?

So she takes action, she takes off her ring and lets it fall to the ground, she leaves

And this picture right here reminds me of:

Pin is yet again left to face the storm all alone

[jo-harrington]

Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Chapter 5: Friends to Lovers

Previous Chapter: Reader Suggestions

Summary: A bit of chaotic Deja Vu ensues as the Writer finally gets a handle on this story.

Word Count: 6.3k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Chaos, Smut, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events and characters, Various References to Movies and Television, Lore, Criticism of Fanfiction, Analysis of Fanfiction/Fandom, Meta Fiction, Self-Aware Fic

Note: I KNOW THIS IS REALLY LATE (the dedication post not the chapter, I write on my own time and I'm not gonna apologize for that) so please consider this a chapter dedicated to @undead-supernova for her birthday. Love you August. Thanks for being a little gremlin with me sometimes. Hope you enjoy it.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

You really didn't know how you fit into this story.

You were utterly and sincerely baffled.

But you could say that about a lot of the stories you found yourself in; this one felt like it was just to make you suffer, more than anything else.

"What's on your mind Wanderlust?" Sawyer groaned as he collapsed beside you on the sand. He held out a water bottle--still a bit cold, meaning he'd just come back from refilling them at the caves--which you took with a grateful nod. "You're staring into that fire as if it's about to tell you the meaning of life."

"I think that's exactly what I'm hoping it does," you told him honestly before taking a swig.

"Well if you find out," he laid back with his arms folded behind his head. "Be sure to share with the class."

You rolled your eyes at him and then kept up with your pity party.

To add to the list of things you didn't know: Sawyer was also one of them.

He was a shithead of the first degree, dangerous, shifty, rude, selfish, suspicious...and somehow the only person you consistently talked to here on the island.

You'd actually been sitting next to him on Flight 815; he'd been a little salty but nice enough to let you have the arm rests, even asked if you were alright when the turbulence began and you began panicking.

For all the years that you'd been driving around the states, you'd never been on a plane before; you thought it was karma that some Writer would not only put you on the longest flight in existence for your first go, and then a plane crash for your second.

But you appreciated Sawyer's compassion, and the subsequent companionship that he shared with you. The care. The protection. The no-strings-attached, no-questions-asked nature of your relationship.

"You have a boyfriend back home kid?" he asked abruptly.

Spoke too soon.

"Loaded question," you snorted, thinking back to the many loves you'd had throughout this strange life you lived.

"Always the bridesmaid?"

"Something like that." You kicked his leg. "What about you?"

"Married to my work, sweet pea," he grinned, eyes still closed. He must've heard you roll your eyes at him. "I'm sure you're curious about why I'm asking."

"The question crossed my mind, if you'd like to share with the class," you parroted his words.

"Might've heard through the grapevine that someone has a little crush on you."

"Hmmm." You hoped the judgment and distaste was clear.

"Figure it was my duty as your unofficial big brother to scare them away before they started sniffing too close. 'specially if you had someone back home waiting for you."

"Well, no one's waiting," you huffed a breath. "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in a weird beach hookup either."

"I figured. I'll tell 'em to scram."

"Please don't be rude about it."

His eyes popped open and he pressed a hand to his chest.

"Now when have I ever been rude?" You kicked him again. "Alright, I'll be nice."

"Thank you."

There were a few beats of silence, filled with the crackle of the fire and the roar of waves just a few yards away.

"What are you looking for then?" Sawyer's voice broke through. "If it's not sex or love or whatever. What's got you looking so deep into that fire for?"

"I think..." You took a second, because all of those things were nice. But what did you want? What did you really want?

You inhaled deeply and then turned your gaze back to him with the hint of a smile.

"I think I just need a friend."

October 1985

You know what really sucked for Eddie about this whole fanfiction predicament?

The absolute unpredictability of it.

Just as you'd explained to him, he actually felt like he was playing a constant game of DnD. The only problem--well, one of many problems, actually--was that the Dungeon Master had no plans, didn't know what they were doing, and was making it all up as they went.

Which is why he suddenly found himself back in time once again, practically at the beginning of the school year, after a shitty, hot October day where everything that could've gone wrong did.

"It's almost like this Writer hates my guts or something," he grumbled as he sifted through the disarray in his locker. "Making me repeat my repeat-repeat-senior year over and over again."

He let the irritation fester within him all day until the end of the day so he could complain to you--and you'd hopefully agree to some under-the-shirt-over-the-bra action on his couch as consolation--only to find your trailer dark and your car missing by the time he got home.

"Great, just great," he grumbled and trudged inside.

For the rest of the night, he did what he always did when he was looking for comfort.

Pizza, Television, Recorded Reruns of Port Geneva.

He sat on the floor, worked on his homework, and munched on his large extra-pepperoni for hours, as you and Sam and Bonnie had your misadventures. A little voice in the back of his head urged him to just get up and try calling you whenever he hit the pause button to complain, but he ignored it and instead kept on complaining.

About school, about life, about himself. About never amounting to anything. It was very reminiscent of all the other "talks" he had with you...both the you on the screen and eventually the you in real life.

What he wouldn't give to just have you here right now to talk to, instead of this old habit that he thought he'd outgrown upon your appearance in Hawkins and the beginning of this unending hellscape.

He looked down at himself, at the homework and the pizza, and stopped to ask, "what the fuck am I doing?"

Was he really so pathetic that he couldn't control himself until you could be there? Or Wayne? Or any of his other friends? Had the turning back of the calendar just regressed him into the pathetic person he was before all of this started? Before you set foot into Hawkins?

Eddie got to his feet and hit the eject button on the VCR, fully intending to call it a night, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd just gotten used to.

This crash, however, started a ruckus. Again.

"Weird," he scoffed at the yelling and the dog across the way barking.

But who was he to pass up some good old Midwestern entertainment? Especially after the most lackluster night?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl of junk on the coffee table, slid the box of leftover pizza into the fridge, and stepped outside to get a prime spot on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

He'd just gotten that first drag of his cigarette and really took in the sights when it all made sense.

Or rather, it actually didn't make any sense.

Because he remembered the Mayfields on their porch yelling at the driver and Mrs. Mayfield threatening to call the police. He recognized that powder blue Volkswagen Beetle and the accompanying license plate. He knew, on instinct, exactly when the driver's door opened and the sneakered foot stepped out.

And then there you were. Looking around and begging the Mayfields not to call the cops, making a deal to pay for the damages.

The weirdest thing was that, even though his mind raced to put the pieces together, his heart ached with all of the emotions that he'd been through the first time he'd lived this night when you'd crashed into Hawkins from your adventures across the fictional universe.

But instead of muttering that it was all a dream like he remembered himself saying, he repeated "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck" over again until you glanced over at him with an apologetic gaze that he recognized even from that distance.

All at once, he felt the calm wash over him. That's all he needed from you, one look, and everything began to feel worlds better.

"Jesus H. Christ," he sighed and ran a hand through his hair in relief.

Eddie watched for a few moments longer as you wrapped up your conversation with the Mayfields, and he would've made the attempt to approach you once you wandered back to your car, if he didn't feel the puppet strings of the Writer and their words rest on the tip of his tongue, waiting for him to speak them.

So he played the part, as he had gotten used to doing, and jumped to his feet.

"Hey!" He called out to you. "Uh...I...know my way around cars, I can take a look at it in the morning. I-if you want. Bang out any dents."

"Seriously? Can you?" you scrunched your nose in the way that made his knees shake. The Writer didn't need to make him do that; even after a few months, he was still pathetic for you. "That'd be nice, thanks."

"Yeah no problem," he smiled the friendliest and most welcoming smile he could muster, and then went back inside as your car trudged across the trailer park.

Your door was unlocked when he ventured to your place in the middle of the night.

The Writer, unfortunately--or maybe thankfully--still gave him as many nerves and as much restlessness as he had the first night you were in Hawkins. Or maybe he was just nervous and restless wondering just what new hell there was in store for the two of you? Still he couldn't sleep, so instead of wait for the morning, he just made his way over to discuss it with you now.

He found you sitting atop your bedroll on the blue plaid sofa in your living room.

"Hey Cigarette Porch guy," you greeted him tiredly, reciting the words you originally greeted him with.

"Cigarette porch guy is my father," he didn't hesitate to recall, the moment the two of you officially met fondly etched into his memory forever. "You can just call me Eddie."

You share a smile and then pat the spot beside you on the couch.

"I'd offer you a drink, but uh...seems like I'm starting over again," you sighed. "Unless I can interest you in some good old Indiana tap water."

He shook his head, then closed the distance and dropped beside you.

"So what are we in for this time?" he asked. "I thought I was just in for another shitty day."

"Well," you paused and held your breath, then you grabbed his hand and squeezed. "I woke up in a motel room I didn't recognize and then felt the urge to get in my car and just drive. I felt...excited to go to a new place; I think I even said it out loud. 'I'm so excited.' But inside I was worried that I'd moved onto another world and left you behind."

It was like a pit opened in his stomach; he'd considered it before, your eventual departure. He'd come to believe that you would move onto your next life after some event--a death, a breakup, maybe some happily ever after after 50 years together, if he was lucky. But to lose you without any kind of warning?

"Shit," he pulled you into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. For your comfort and his own. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"It's ok," came the weak chuckle as you leaned into his embrace and nuzzled your nose into his t-shirt. "It's ok, we're just...starting over. The Writer is starting the story over; starting over is good sometimes. Maybe they figured out what they were going to do with us, instead of just play with us like little dolls in a dollhouse."

"Well, I'm an expert in starting over so..." he cracked a joke. "I was just thinking that earlier today, actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, if it's October again, it means I'm doing senior year for the...what is it...third-and-a-half time?"

You snorted and weakly slapped a hand to his chest, "well how dare they make you experience that fresh hell one more time."

"I guess if we're starting over, that means you can help me figure out how to pass my Civics quiz again," he recalled your first date. Study date.

You shot out of his embrace and grabbed his face in your hands, smushing his cheeks as you grinned, the somber tone in the living room finally dissipating.

"But that's the best part of rewrites," you explained. "You get to live all the best memories with people over again."

You told him about rewrites that you'd been through; stories that generally didn't change and some that changed drastically. He liked hearing the fondness of your voice when you talked about getting to meet so-and-so for the first time again, holding someone's hand, first dates.

"First kisses?" he asked through his still-smooshed lips.

"That's one of the best parts of rewrites," you winked and pecked a kiss against his mouth. Then again and again, until the two of you were smooching all over each other comically like Gomez and Morticia, giggling all the while.

And when it was time to say goodbye, both of you ready to say "hello" for the second first time.

"Hey," you greeted, somewhat out of breath when Eddie opened the door. It was a familiar sight: backpack slung over your shoulder, 6-pack of sodas dangling from your fingers, looking as gorgeous as you always did or at least he thought so. "Sorry if I'm late."

"No," he shook his head quickly and shifted to the side to let you pass into the trailer. "Right on time sweetheart. Hope you like pepperoni."

Of course you did. It was your favorite.

"It's my favorite."

He still felt the strong sense of triumph from knowing what your favorites were, even though the nerves of being around you for the first time had dissipated.

There was another kind of excitement now as you bit your lip and winked at him stealthily and made your way inside to get settled in the living room. Of course you knew he knew that pepperoni was your favorite. What the Writer didn't know was that pepperoni wasn't your only favorite, and they didn't know that he'd gotten half-pep, half-mushroom to surprise you.

How would they? He hadn't felt them as he'd called Pizzeria Uno, just those lurking strings leading him to the door once the pizza arrived.

The past few days had gone like this, where the Writer would control some aspect of your lives, and the two of you would test what the boundaries of this fanfiction were. It was a trick of yours, to feel some semblance of control in an uncontrollable situation, especially as things became out of character or too drawn out.

When the Writer seemed to be writing too much exposition about one thing or another, the two of you sat frozen in time. No talking, no movement as the world around you seemed to shift and morph at the will of your would-be-deity.

You'd silently challenged him to a staring contest over breakfast at Benny's as a water stain in the corner of the ceiling got bigger and dingier and became more of an eyesore.

Had Eddie really never noticed it or was the Writer just obsessed with it?

It was happening right now as his attention was drawn to the enticing softness of the sweater you had on...each piece of yarn knitted and woven together with such care, his hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out and...

"So..." you cleared your throat. "Homework?"

"Yeah," he agreed, shaking himself out of his story-induced stupor. "Lemme put those pops in the fridge so they get cold first. Dr. Pep--Mr. Pibb?" He scoffed at the unexpected label, a laugh dead in his throat.

"Wh...do you...I thought you liked Dr. Pepper," he questioned.

"Why would you think that?"

"Be...because you got Dr. Pepper at Benny's!"

"If I don't have a choice, yeah Dr. Pepper is fine. But Mr. Pibb is my favorite," you laughed and shook your head in amused disbelief. "There's nothing like a slice of pepperoni and an ice cold Mr. Pibb."

Eddie was sure that there were no strings pulling him this way or that, and based on your body language, it didn't seem like the Writer was doing anything to you either. He racked his brain for a moment, trying to come up with any little tidbit that could prove some outside interference.

But then he realized...had The Writer noticed something about you that he hadn't?

Had he, Eddie Munson, number one fan of Port Geneva's--and you--not noticed that your favorite soda was Mr. Pibb?

Then a thought that didn’t really seem to be his echoed in his head.

What if he actually didn’t know anything about you?

No.

That was impossible.

He refused to believe it. It had to be the Writer who was manipulating things. Right?

He looked at the Mr. Pibb for a moment, then back up at you.

"So, uh," he hesitantly backed out of the living room to head to the kitchen. "Anything else shocking and unbelievable that I need to know about you? If we're gonna be neighbors...or friends...or whatever."

"Or whatever," you giggled, scrunching your nose, then pulled his notebook off the coffee table to distract yourself as you continued nervously. "Uh, ok let's see...I don't think there's anything too shocking and unbelievable that I hadn't told you at breakfast the other day. I'm from Port Geneva, I've been driving around for a while, I like to draw."

You flipped through a few pages in his notebook and then paused and pointed to the doodles in the margins of the page.

"And by the looks of this, so do you," you grinned. "These are cool."

"Cool?" he scoffed. "That...I was supposed to take notes for class and I ended up doodling for Hellfire Club the whole time. Ahem...Hellfire Club...my Dungeons and Dragons club at school."

"Oh yeah?"

"Planning a one-shot for my buddy Jeff's birthday in a world where Theodred doesn't die and goes on to become...well...it's just nerd stuff. You're not interested in any of that. Besides, we're supposed to be talking about you."

"Actually," you looked at him expectantly, "we're supposed to talk about your history quiz. But while we're on the topic of me, and history, and these nerd things in your notebook, I guess one shocking and unbelievable thing about me is that I'm actually a nerd too. I happen to like Tolkien."

It was his turn to shoot you a mocking "oh yeah?"

You rolled your eyes at him and then put his notebook down on the table, then held out your hand as though you desired a handshake. As soon as his palm touched yours, you introduced yourself.

"I actually like Tolkien. My mom got me a copy of the Silmarillion for my sixteenth birthday and if I could go anywhere in any universe, I'd like to see Middle Earth from the tippy top of Erebor. And I used to say that I'd settle for the grand canyon, but I've already been there. So I will accept nothing less than Erebor itself. Now you."

You continued to shake his hand as he spoke.

"I'm Eddie Munson. The first time I read the Hobbit, my dad had dropped me off at the library and someone had misplaced it in the Kids section. And I've tried to get my band to play a rendition of Misty Mountains before, but we can't agree on whether or not there should be a harp in it. If we could even find a harp in Indiana like Thorin's."

There was a sparkle in your eye as you began to say "actually I have a funny story about Thorin and his harp," when you froze.

Eddie watched you and got increasingly worried as you fought some kind of internal battle just behind your eyes. He could see the little changes in your expression, from joyful to nervous to angry, and he reached out to rest his hand on yours and let you know that he was right there.

That it would be alright.

"Why don't," you finally spat out forcefully, slightly out of breath, "why don't we try this? We study a little bit at a time, and as we go, we share a new fact about each other? That way by the end of the night, you'll be ready for the quiz, and we'll be good...friends?"

There was something biting about the word friends, almost like you didn't want to say it.

Honestly, it stung him a little to hear it.

Friends.

Weren't you two supposed to fall in love? Hadn't that been what this fanfiction was in the first place? That this Writer shipped you two together? And shit, even though he knew that he could kiss you once the Writer relinquished control, he was kind of looking forward to having this first date all over again, just like you'd discussed.

But now everything was turning out differently.

Not bad, just different.

It was your turn to turn your hand in his and squeeze, then you asked "how does that sound Eddie? Friends?"

His eyes darted between yours, and he felt the pressure build, the pressure to agree and say yes, as thoughts that the Writer put into his head flew through him at light speed.

"Yeah," he finally spoke. "Friends sounds good."

And friends it was...until it wasn't anymore.

You and Eddie seemed to do all of the things that you did before. Study sessions and Saturdays spent together watching movies and putzing around town until it was time for you to go to work.

Only instead of holding hands and smooching and all of the things that really punctuated the romance in a relationship...there were just awkward, forlorn glances and tingles along your skin when your fingers happened to touch.

God damn, he hadn't had this kind of crush since he was in middle school. The last serious crush he had besides that...was on you.

And it was weird to physically feel all of the effects of a crush on you, thanks to the Writer, while mentally being frustrated knowing that dates and kisses and everything were just around the corner. If only the two of you would be allowed to get over that hurdle.

"It's called a slow burn," you laughed one night when he complained to you on the phone, away from the watchful eye of the Writer. You seemed to be taking the glass-half-full approach, where Eddie just missed you so goddamn much. "And I guess the Writer is really letting us simmer."

"I'm gonna melt if they don't let us be together soon." Eddie complained, semi-seriously, basking in your laughter. "Call me Eddie Mun-stew."

"They've got us in a crock pot," you entertained his joke.

"8 chapters on low," he grinned. "Like Uncle Wayne's famous chili. I just want to kiss you, is that such a crime?"

"Apparently it is."

"What if I've forgotten how to kiss?"

"I sincerely doubt that you have. I'm more worried that the Writer will make it a bad first kiss."

"Like if we bonk heads and I break your nose or something?"

"Oh god, let's not give them any ideas," you groaned. "Look, whenever they decide it'll happen, it will. And it's gonna be great."

"Maybe they won't let me make you think I'm a virgin this time."

"You have to admit, that was hilarious."

"It was not!"

Your only response, which caused him to hang up on you, was to cackle loudly into the receiver.

But the Writer must've sensed the antsy energy between the two of you because it happened.

A first kiss. A second first kiss.

You were actually at the movies this time, instead of on Eddie's couch.

The Writer had given Eddie an incredibly long sequence where he and his pals from Hellfire practiced all of the moves he could have finally made on you now to let you know he might be interested.

First, there was the raising of the armrest between the two of you--exaggeratedly performed by Jeff, who played Eddie, and Eddie, who played you.

Next, there was the meeting of the fingers in the popcorn bucket. Gareth was able to do an uncanny impression of Eddie's "don't take all the milk duds" and the awkward laugh he made as the blush dusted his cheeks.

Then there was the old yawn and stretch, which wasn't awkward at all to have Dave do to him.

"Have you ever done this to someone before?" Eddie snarked, as Dave practically squeezed him against his side. It had been more of a grab than a casual drape of his arm around Eddie's back.

Needless to say, his own execution of the move was a lot smoother.

"And then you just kiss her," his friends said in tandem.

"Gee thanks," Eddie scoffed at them, "I know how to kiss a girl, you shitheads."

Except when it came down to it, he was nervous. Hadn't you told him that the best part of rewrites was having those firsts again? What if it was terrible? What if he actually did break your nose?

"Eddie, are you shaking?" you leaned away from him and looked at him worriedly. "What's wrong?"

Shit, had he been shaking?

"This movie is just," he cleared his throat and glanced up at the screen; thank god he chose something spooky for Halloween. "Really scary."

"Oh...kay," you narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but sat back in your seat.

Then you leaned into him a little more.

And glanced up at him from beneath your lashes.

And he couldn't help but lean a little closer, and duck his head, until his breath was fanning against your cheeks.

Until you inched closer and closer.

And your lips brushed.

Damn, this Writer must've been a hopeless romantic because the kiss was everything they said a first kiss should be. Sunshine and rainbows and birds singing and rockets red glare fireworks at the soft press of your lips on his.

It was here that Eddie realized how much he'd missed kissing you, like...really missed kissing you. You'd taken the task of this rewrite a little too seriously, worried that in some way it might inspire the Writer...or possibly even mess with their inspiration.

The two of you were here now, though, and finally all of that waiting had paid off.

So of course you took advantage of it.

Actually, you were a little more eager than Eddie even was, because your hands were on him immediately. One hand found his waist and the other on his jaw, thumb softly caressing his stubbly skin as your lips pressed together. He liked the firmness of your lips, he liked the way you'd waited for him to make the move before taking what you both eagerly wanted.

Writer be damned.

Eddie pulled you closer, using the arm hooked around your shoulders as leverage, and then tried to use the other hand to hike one of your legs over his--you couldn't be close enough--but the damned popcorn bucket got in the way.

He pulled his lips away from yours for a moment to glance down at the obstacle, basking in the little whine you made at the loss of contact.

In fact, you both looked down at the popcorn, and then at the screen, then at each other.

And you both must've decided that "fuck it" was the correct response, because soon the popcorn bucket was on the floor and you were giggling into each other's mouths as you melded back into one writing mass of limbs and kisses and caresses.

It was a joy to be reunited like this; there were some moments that Eddie was eager to move his hand this way or that way, but he felt the strings of the Writer pull him some other way. His own signature moves foregone in favor of something that they thought would be better. Fingers inched under clothing and into hair, lips chased down the column of a neck, and a leg was hitched over a hip until you were practically grinding on each other for all the world to see.

Suddenly a light was shined on you and you both froze, then jumped apart in shock. Your shoulders heaved and you turned towards the source of the light.

"Hey!" An usher shouted from the end of the row, getting the attention of the whole theater as they turned in their seats to stare at the two of you with your kiss-bruised lips and disheveled clothes. "Knock it off."

"Sorry," you apologized in tandem and shrunk back into your seats.

In fact, the usher waited until the armrest was securely back in place between the two of you before he left.

Once he was gone, though, you snickered and slyly lifted the armrest so you could cuddle back together.

"It's good to be back," Eddie whispered and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

"Ok," you took a breath in and stared at the bed. "So...how do we start?"

Eddie looked at you incredulously and then scoffed.

"You're asking me?" He chuckled and ran a hand into his hair.

"Yeah, I'm asking you," you nodded sincerely and then you gestured up towards the ceiling. "Because clearly they don't know."

You'd been making out on the couch when you'd both decided to take it to the bedroom. But when you got there, things seemed to fizzle out, and now you were just waiting for the Writer's next move.

Actually, the two of you had been waiting for that to happen for a little while. Not that either of you could complain. All of the little scenes that had been written developed your relationship into something worth a story being told about it--dates and cuddling and kissing.

Better than some of the bullshit that the Writer had previously pulled. No bouts of interference or jealousy from Steve Harrington or Chrissy Cunningham. It seemed like a normal relationship, and everything the two of you wanted.

There was still the underlying disbelief and mystery that surrounded you, Eddie's favorite character from Port Geneva, actually being in Hawkins, but in reality the two of you knew that whatever the Writer had planned would truly be a drop in the water when it came to what was actually happening to you.

You'd take this love story while you could get it.

However, the one hurdle that you couldn't seem to get over...was sex.

Well, the two of you could certainly get over it.

It was the Writer that couldn't.

And the cockblocking was getting old.

Making out on the couch, Wayne walked in unexpectedly and ruined the mood. Someone knocked on the back of the van when the two of you were getting hot and heavy parked up at the quarry.

Shit, even phone sex was ruined.

The Writer seemed to be attuned to the two of you now and anytime there was any hint of an arousal to be had, they would be there to effectively crush it.

"Maybe they're just a bad writer?" Eddie shouted upwards, throwing two middle fingers into the air, as though The Writer would know.

"Alright, let's not get too heated," you chuckled and grabbed his arms to pull them back down. "It's probably not as easy as we think it is."

"The dick goes in," Eddie pouted. You stared at him with some sense of disbelief. He was quick to recover it with "and other things happen. I know how to warm a girl up. They should just let us get to it, then it would be easy to put it on paper."

There was a spark of inspiration in your eye at that.

"Alright then, Mister know-it-all," you challenged him, "maybe we should put that logic to the test."

"W-what do you mean?" he questioned. "How?"

"Well, what would you do? How would we start?" you asked in return. "Actually...you admitted to writing a few little stories; have you ever written a sex scene about me?"

Eddie felt the heat build up in his cheeks and you grinned wickedly.

"Oh my god, you have."

"Shut up, ok?" He inhaled deeply, held, and then exhaled his response. "Ok yes but it was once and can you blame me?"

You cackled and did a little shimmy.

"You're smart and funny and gorgeous and I'm in love with you," he explained and then caught himself in shock. "Er, I mean, I..."

He fumbled over his words but your gaze got soft, and you leaned in to press your mouth to his.

It was all the reassurance he needed.

Then he got lost in you. Your lips, your taste, the feel of your hands on him, the feel of you beneath his hands. It was a sensory overload but it was a welcome one. To be surrounded by all of you? He couldn't have written it as well as it was to simply experience it.

That's how he felt about everything he'd experienced with you so far, though. Why should this be any different?

You tugged on his clothes and he tugged on yours. You fumbled to get onto the bed, chasing each other as you scrambled up towards the pillows; you refused to let each other's mouths stray too far though.

"You know," Eddie panted as he pulled away from you to pull his t-shirt over his head. "Maybe the Writer was onto something, though; I really like kissing you."

"Uh huh," you scoffed, your own shirt gone, and you fumbled with the buttons of your jeans. "Do you wanna stop then?"

"Fuck no," he responded and ducked his head to your bare stomach.

His fingers fought with yours on your waistband as he kissed up the softness of your belly, then the dip between your breasts, then up to your neck.

"You know I'm really good at giving hickeys," he muttered into the corner of your jaw. The words tumbled out of his mouth, almost like they weren't his. It took him to realize that they weren't actually his. They were The Writer's. Maybe this was working after all. "Like, really good."

"Put your money where your mouth is Munson," came your reply as your hand slipped into his waistband.

And it was such a strange sensation, maybe just for Eddie, maybe the both of you, when your hand wrapped around his cock and squeezed and he sucked on your pulse like his life depended on it.

Pleasure definitely, and maybe pain; a little mortification and a lot of confusion.

The crescendo of moans from the two of you that your brains said sounded like music but all your ears heard was utter filth. The difference between what the Writer demanded--what they wrote--and what the two of you experience.

And then you released each other, and looked into one another's eyes, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"What is this?" Eddie chuckled into your neck. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know," you mirrored him. Your free hand reached up and caressed his face, fingers brushing into his bangs. "But I wouldn't do this with anyone but you."

The rest of your clothes were shed, then, and more kisses were shared. You explored each other's bodies with hands and eyes and tongues. He liked the sounds you made when he licked his way down your body and finally got to taste you when he reached your core.

He vaguely wondered what it was the Writer was describing as he found the spots that made you moan and scream and shatter. Was it the heady taste of you? Or the weight of your thigh hiked over his shoulder? The feeling of your fingers in his hair? And then when things were reversed, when he sunk into you? What did you feel? Did you feel the weight of him on your body, the sweet affirmations he whispered into you, or the way your thighs pulled him closer? The need to have him in you and around you?

Did they write about the slow build of pleasure between you? The chase of it as he bucked into you and you pulled him deeper? Did they know the exact moment that your hands reached down to press into the spot where you connected?

What was it that a Writer experienced when the characters they wrote about shared those intimate moments together? Did they feel their own sense of lust at the thought of bodies melding into one another? Did they feel a sense of shame or intrusion?

Or maybe they felt left out? That this love, this experience, would never really happen to them? Maybe it was just some facsimile with their own partner? Or could this only ever experienced secondhand through words written on a page, never to truly be had on their own?

Eddie paused and looked down at you--at the scrunch of your eyes as you touched yourself, as you touched him, and moaned his name--and he did his best to banish the Writer from his mind.

From this room.

Because this truly was something that should only belong to you and Eddie.

Before everything faded to darkness, before whatever "scene" came to a close, you reached your peaks together.

Because strings or no strings, whether the writer existed or not, whether this was real or fanfiction, it was just the two of you.

You and Eddie.

Together.

"I love you."

Next Chapter: Lemon Coming Soon

There is no taglist for this series, please follow the STFF Updates tag or check the series out on AO3.

[moonlightndaydreams]

Secrets in the Mist - a Han Jisung x Mermaid fic

Prologue | Chapter 1 | ?

↠↠ About: Something strange is going on in Little Pebble Bay, a little fishing village where Jisung lives. He feels he’s being watched by something in the water. Then one day his world as he knows it is turned upside down when he saves a woman from being attacked by the village’s thugs. From then on, Jisung's life is changed forever. He learns of a world of merpeople, sirens, fated mates and a secret that has been kept from him his entire life.

↠ A/n: I’m going to just put this out there - I am not familiar with mermaid / siren / pirate lore / mythology. I have made up my own. Please, if that’s going to irritate you, please don’t read this fic.

It’s also my first attempt at world building and mystery, so I ask you please give me grace. I hope that the characters and their feeling and emotions make up for my lack of describing the setting very well.

But I have to tell this story, and I hope you enjoy.

I have a taglist open for this series, so just let me know if you’d like to be added.

⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙

Prologue

Chapter word count: approx 1k.

CW: merpeople, violence, death, capture, captivity, grief.

⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙⋙

“There’s the ship, Father! I see it!” You yelled excitedly, and swam ahead of him.

“Y/n, you’re getting so fast. Wait for me.” Your father chuckled as he caught up to your side.

You had been so very excited for this day. The New World was going to be back in your waters after an entire year, which to a thirteen year old mermaid felt like an eternity.

“I wonder if brother has grown more?” You sighed.

“Probably! You know how legs get longer and all? I bet he’s been keeping your mother on her toes. He’s a vibrant young man, that’s for sure.”

Anticipation bubbled inside you, and you felt like you were going to explode with happiness. You looked to your merman father swimming beside you. You may still be young, but you could see in his expression how happy he was about to be reunited with his fated mate - your mother and captain of the ship.

You both reached the hull of the New World and made your way around to her starboard side before swimming up and breaking the surface.

The bright sun was almost too bright for your eyes, but the fresh air felt comforting on your skin. You loved that feeling, and wondered if it was because you were half human?

“Y/n! My sweet girl!” Your mother waved from the rickety old dinghy hanging off the side of the ship while several crewmen lowered it into the water.

“Mother! Oh I missed you so much!” You wailed and threw your arms around her. She held you tight against her and you closed your eyes. You’d missed her comforting touch.

“Myrtle,” your father embraced you both and took your mother in a beautiful kiss. “I missed you my love.” He whispered against her mouth.

“Father! Sister!” A voice called from above. You looked up to see your big brother waving enthusiastically. “Wait! I’ll jump in!” He hastily started to remove his thick, bright pink jacket.

Your father turned back to your mother. “How was your expedition?” His tone turned serious. “You know how I feel about dangerous quests.”

“Darling,” she cupped his cheek. “I’m a grown woman, a captain, I know how to handle myself.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud voice from the deck.

“Sirens!!!! Sirens!” He yelled.

Fear coursed through your veins, and your parents were instantly on high alert, their heads darting around to find the source of threat.

The water around you splashed violently and a loud hissing sound rang in your ears. It was almost unbearable.

“Captain they have you surrounded.” A crewmate yelled from above.

The dinghy wobbled as you held on tightly to it’s side. Then you saw at least half a dozen heads emerge from the water. Sirens. With their unmistakable cloudy, white eyes and sharp teeth gnashing together viciously. The pure definition of a nightmare.

“The Sea King will have your heads for this!” Your father snarled.

“Haven’t you heard? The Sea King is dead, you fool.” A siren spat and shoved a spear straight into your father’s heart.

“No!” Both you and your mother cried, as you watched your father sink under the water.

You looked up to your mother just as a spear flew through the air and impaling itself into her from behind.

“Mother!” You screamed, reaching out for her.

“I’m coming in!” Cried your brother, getting ready to throw himself in.

“No, son. You need to take care of the ship! Don’t let him jump!” She choked her last instructions to her crew as she fell into the ocean, sinking just as your father did, and leaving behind a red cloud of blood.

Hands grasped your tail, trying to tug you under. But you held the side of the dinghy for dear life. You looked up to the ship, panicked and scared, to meet your brother’s eyes. He was trying desperately to escape the clutches of the crew mates, but they were too strong.

“Y/n! Hold on, I will save you. I promise.”

It was the last thing you heard as you lost your grip on the side of the dinghy, and were pulled under.

You were taken deep into the ocean to where the Sirens lived, a dark and eerie palace, and held as prisoner. You didn’t know why they wanted to murder your parents, or why they wanted you. Why didn’t they just kill you too? No matter how much you screamed and begged, they wouldn’t tell you.

You grieved for your family, alone in your cell. You yearned for your brother. Was he okay? There was an emptiness in your chest. Yet it hurt so much.

For the first few weeks you tried everything you could to escape. Then, as you realised there was no way to free yourself, you began to lose hope, eventually resigning yourself to the fact that you’d be there for the rest of your life.

↠↞↠↞

Seven years passed as a prisoner in the Siren’s palace. You tried your best to recite all the knowledge you had learned in your short life before being imprisoned. You imagined all the experiences and emotions you ever felt. Reliving them over and over in your head. It was the only thing you had that connected you to your past.

One day there was a commotion throughout the palace. Yelling, screaming, fighting and clashing of weapons could be heard coming from the main hall.

A merman appeared at your cell, prying it open with some sort of tool or weapon, and freeing you. “Hurry.” He whispered. He was beautiful, although rather gaunt in the face with a fresh gash across his chest.

It all happened so suddenly. He snuck you past the commotion, with no one quite noticing, and led you through a dark passageway. The passage twisted and turned until you finally reached an opening that led to the open ocean.

“You need to go quickly.” He turned his head back as he though he sensed you had been followed.

“Aren’t you coming too?” You begged.

“No!” He growled. “I’ll keep them distracted. Just go!” He pushed you away, urging you to hurry and go..

“But I don’t know where I’m going?” You wailed, clinging to his arm.

“Y/n.” He gripped your arm tight. “Go to Little Pebble Bay.” He whispered in your ear. Then he was ripped from your arms.

“Everything you need is waiting there!” He called as he was dragged back into the passageway.

Frightened, confused, and all alone, you began to swim as fast as you could in search of Little Pebble Bay.

——————

↠ A/n: We start Chapter 1 next where we meet Jisung.

Tag list : open

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @xxkissesforchanniexx @starr-lvst @queenmea604 @queen-in-the-shadows @bethanysnow @newhope8 @vanillacupcakefrosting @3rachasdomesticbanana @fun-fanfics @palindrome969 @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @yaorzu-blog @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @everythingboutkpop @jiminssluttyminx @felixleftchickennugget @minho4cat

@imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @tirena1

[kainuhsblog]

Mr. Choi from 2A • Jiung Choi

prompt         More Than Words Elementary gets the surprise of a lifetime when the kids figure out that the two kindest teachers for 4th and 5th grade are married. pairing          teacher!jiung x fem!reader genre           school teachers, established relationship, fluff warnings      mentions of food, playful banter, school word count    3,796 (this story wrote itself) a/n                 hi! i'm back! I have something written this time! jiung is my ultimate bias, so i’ve been itching to write something for him. please note that this fic will be told in 3rd pov, but kind of centric to none of the main characters, but to one of jiung’s students, emma! 

want more piwon posts from me? check out my fake texts here and here!

There are many things in the world that Emma loves. Her parents, for one –  obviously. They spoil her endlessly, and even gave her a little brother, so she loves them. 

Emma also loves trucks. She loves them simply because her dad always lifts her up to get in the thing. He even has to do a little stretch to get in himself.  Big trucks that make even her dad seem small are always fun. 

Third on the list – not that it has a particular order – will have to go to the bakery near her house. Ms. Lim makes the best cupcakes known to man, and her mom loves them just as much as she does, so they like to splurge on them every once in a while. 

Fourth; the quaint burger place lodged in an alleyway on that busy street Emma always forgets the name of. Every once in a while, her mom and dad take her (and her little brother, now) to the place, and she always manages to see her uncle manning the bar. She wonders if he works there. 

And last, but certainly not least; her 4th grade teacher Mr. Choi. Mr. Choi never enters the room without a fond smile on his face as he greets the class in the morning. He never lets them leave without some words of praise when they leave the class in the afternoon. 

Mr. Choi is very attentive, explaining things a million times over for everyone to understand (who knew there were different methods to learning how to multiply big numbers?) and is very interactive with his class. Mr. Choi is probably the kindest person Emma knows. 

If someone were to come up to her and shove a microphone and a camera in her face (because people do that now) and ask her who she thought the kindest person in the world was, her first answer would definitely be Mr. Choi. That’s just how good he is. 

Anyways, before the author starts her spiel on the guy, let’s get into the actual story – shall we?

The list of things that Emma loves in this world differ depending on what day you ask her. Her constants will always be her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, and Mr. Choi from class 2A. 

Lately though, Emma thinks that a new constant might add to her list of things she loves in this world. The thought came to her mind halfway through the previous semester. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

At the beginning of her first semester in fourth grade, a new teacher for fifth grade arrived in bubbly fashion. With beautiful kind eyes and a charming smile; the new teacher tumbled her way into the lives of everyone at More Than Words Elementary School. 

Emma was one of the people who only entertained things within her bubble. As a bubble dweller, the only things she knew dwelled in her bubble with her. She didn’t know anything about new staff or teachers unless someone entered her bubble to tell her. Which is how she found out about the new teacher in the first place. 

She had many friends within the school who greeted her in the mornings, and her cousin Shelby was friends with her next door neighbor Tommy. Those two always brought her the gossip from their fifth grade circle. 

They were all hanging out on the playground for recess when Shelby mentioned it to Emma. Something along the lines of the nicest teacher ever just came to their school or something. Emma excused Shelby’s comments because the elder didn’t have Mr. Choi in fourth grade. 

Tommy described the woman like she hung the stars in the sky every single night for him to look at and ponder her. Shelby told him to write a book if he wanted to be that sappy. Emma laughed even if she didn’t get the reference all too well. 

For the rest of that week, the new teacher was all her fifth grade friends seemed to want to talk about. She stopped listening to them halfway through. Mr. Choi was the nicest teacher ever, so she wanted to see his competition with her own two eyes. 

If someone was listening to her thoughts, then they made quick plans, because the next day called for a multitude of rain and the absence of half of the students in her small school. Emma still went to school because her mom and dad had jobs to go to despite the rain, and her grandma was out of the country so no one her parents trusted could watch their kids. 

She walked happily to her class, thinking of the pastries she would smell in the afternoon (as it was the day her and her mom went to the bakery) when she spotted a beautiful woman standing outside her class door talking to Mr. Choi. Her smile stretched like the sun on the horizon as it rose in the morning. A warmth like no other had hit Emma the moment she saw it. 

Emma slowed her pace as she neared the classroom, and she heard the familiar words of reassurance from her teacher to the lady in front of him to ease her worries about whatever she stressed about. The kind words sounded a bit different in Emma’s ears though. 

Emma greeted the adults like she was taught, and both Mr. Choi and the teacher greeted her with similar waves of kindness. The other teacher even knew her name. Why would the other teacher know her name?

Emma tilted her head in confusion and stood before the two teachers. The lady laughed and nudged Mr. Choi to get him to notice. Then, the teacher moved her left hand from the books she clung so tightly to her chest and extended it to the little girl before her. 

“Hi Emma Kang, I’m the new fifth grade teacher Ms. (last name). It’s very nice to meet you!” The teacher introduced, and the shock couldn’t come fast enough as it morphed Emma’s face. 

The lady before her was the kind teacher Shelby and Tommy told her about. Emma shook Ms. (last name)’s hand, feeling the familiar weight of an engagement band (her aunt Nina had just gotten engaged last month, so she knows how it feels on someone’s hand), and told the teacher that it was nice to meet her as well. 

Turns out, Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were discussing the merge of their classrooms for the day so that they can watch movies and play games. None of the other fifth grade teachers wanted to do such things with their classes, (as it was still the beginning of the semester) but Mr. Choi thought it would be fun to let his kids relax for one day. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Rainy days had now meant joint classes after the success of the first one that day, and Emma realized that she hoped for rainy days a lot more, so that she can see Ms. (last name) again and again and again. This was when she thought of the possibility of a new constant on her list. 

Emma thinks that Ms. (last name) felt like the sun, especially when she brightened up the classrooms. Ms. (last name) was extra involved in just about everything, and Emma found herself wanting to join a few things just to see the bubbly teacher again. 

Now, you (as the reader) might be wondering where I’ll fit the synopsis into this story, and I’m getting there. Anyways, back to the story. 

Emma also notices how much livelier Mr. Choi seemed to get whenever Ms. (last name) would come around their area, for rainy days or not. The two teachers seemed really close, like they were friends before working together. Well, that’s how Emma saw it. Shelby and Tommy seemed to disagree though. 

The two fifth graders often talked about how they coax small bits of information out of their homeroom teacher whenever they all can’t seem to understand a particularly hard subject (which is usually math.) Ms. (last name) never got into great detail about a lot of stuff, but she always talked about her fiance with a sense of “love” and “comfort”. 

Emma knew about those feelings and those words, (she’s 9 for crying out loud) but no one ever seemed to explain the concept of love to her in a way where she understood or related to it, so topics like these had her confused.  When she asked what that had to do with anything, Shelby exclaimed that she had a feeling that Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. 

Emma sat there for a long while trying to see things from her cousin’s point of view. Sure, they were friendly and got along well, but a couple? They didn’t seem like a couple. She’s seen a few couples in her nine years on this earth, and her teachers don’t act as gross as those couples. 

Besides, they both arrive in separate cars. From the couples Emma has seen, they usually arrive in the same car, do they not? Her mom and dad are almost always in the same vehicle. Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam never leave without each other at events. Uncle Darren and Aunt Lily only have one car. They drop Shelby to school in it everyday. 

Tommy and Shelby bickered back and forth whilst Emma was left with the most confusing theory of her life. 

Emma decided that day that there was no way Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. Well, that was until dinnertime, when she decided to ask the one couple she constantly has to see. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Mom, dad, can people be a couple even if they don’t hug and hold hands and kiss and arrive at places in the same car?” She asked them once her food was graced and her mom told her to dig in. 

Both of her parents stopped their utensils from reaching their mouths to look at their daughter, seeing her staring back at them with a curious glint in her eyes. 

“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more context than that.” Her mom answered. 

“Your mom’s right, princess. What brought this on so suddenly?” Her dad added on. 

“Well, you guys know my favorite teacher Mr. Choi right?” She started off, watching her parents put down their eating utensils to give her their undivided attention. 

“Yes we do, what about him?” Her dad asked. 

“And you guys know the pretty teacher I told you about a while ago? Ms. (last name)?” She inquired. 

“Yes we do sweetheart.” Her mom answered, picking up her son’s spoon to help him eat his rice. 

“Okay, so today at recess I mentioned to Shelby and Tommy how I thought the teachers were friends before working together because of how well they seem to just – what’s the word I’m looking for?” 

“Coexist?” 

“No not that one … although that one is really good, thanks mom.” 

“Of course!” 

“Cooperate then?” Her dad chimed in, finally picking his utensil up. 

“Oh yes that word! Thank you dad, you’re so smart! Anyways, yes I mentioned it to them, and then Shelby said something about how she thinks they’re a couple? So then I sat there to think about it and that doesn’t make sense? How are they a couple when they don’t kiss and hug and hold hands and go everywhere together and use the same car and have kids?” Emma rambled, getting more confused than ever as she’s explaining it to her parents. 

“Maybe they don’t act that way because kids are present, princess.” Her dad supplied. 

“Dad, you and mom were literally kissing in the kitchen … with me present!” Emma rebutted. 

“That’s because you’re our kid. There’s a difference when it’s your own kid,” Her mom informed. 

“And besides, they work together don’t they? Why act like a couple at work? That’s not very professional.” Her mom continued. 

“You can’t do stuff like that at work?” Emma asked incredulously. 

“No you can’t Emma.” Her dad replied. 

“Wow, you learn something new everyday. What about the car thing then, they’re married and don’t come to work together? That’s so odd. You guys ride to work together all the time.” Emma questioned. 

“Emma first of all, not all couples are married,” Her mom told her, ignoring the gasp of disbelief that escapes her nine year old. 

“Secondly, they probably don’t even live together. Of course they’ll come to work in different cars.” Her mom continued. 

Emma’s shocked beyond words, her brother Eric wasn't paying attention, just eating his food and replaying the opening for power rangers in his mind as he ignored them. Her dad’s just thinking about how all of this could’ve been avoided if they just gave her electronics and discovered the weird stuff on the internet in the first place. He pushed the thought from his mind though, his wife said no so he sticks beside her. 

“Wait, so you’re telling me that couples aren’t married and don’t live together and can’t act gross and work?” Emma asked. 

“Your Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam aren’t married, and they’re a couple.” Her dad answered. 

“They’re practically married.” Emma replied.

“Wait, but do you guys think they’re a couple? An unmarried one who doesn't live together?” Emma followed up. 

She saw her mom and dad rack their brains to see if they remembered anything out of the ordinary between the fourth and fifth grade teachers that night. And then she heard them agree with her crazy claim. 

The next day, when she took Shelby’s side in the argument, their conversations shifted forever. The three friends had made it their new mission to find out if their teachers were really together. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In between that time, the semester had ended, and the long awaited break had begun. Her mom and dad finally sat her down and told her about the different types of couples and all that jazz. They also took her to see her grandparents, where she stayed with all of her cousins for two weeks. 

Emma, Shelby and Tommy met regularly to talk about their random findings, even during their break. Nothing was bigger than the time Emma saw them both at Ms. Lim’s bakery though. The two teachers didn’t notice her, and she didn’t try to get noticed as she saw them share a slice of cheesecake and basically smiled at each other for five minutes. 

Through it all though, the mission seemed to be leading them practically nowhere. The new semester started with Shelby and Tommy telling Emma how Ms. (last name) came back with a new ring on her finger, signifying that she finally got married. 

Tommy told her to check Mr. Choi’s hands to see if he had a ring on as well to confirm their suspicions. Mr. Choi always had rings on his fingers though, so that plan was fruitless. 

For days on end, Emma tried to figure out if there was a new ring on Mr. Choi’s finger, and for days on end it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Just as Emma was about to give up though, the answers to their questions fell right into her lap. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was a rainy Thursday, and like all rainy days, Emma gets dropped off to school earlier than usual. Emma told her parents goodbye at the entrance of the school, watching her dad’s truck drive off with her mom waving at her wildly from the window. 

Emma began to turn around to head inside before hearing the familiar purr of her teacher’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. She then stopped fully once she saw her teacher help Ms. (last name) out of the car?!?!!?!?! 

Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) just came out of the same car. Mr. Choi is helping Ms. (last name) with her bags. Mr. Choi – OH MY GOODNESS DID MR. CHOI JUST KISS MS. (LAST NAME)’S FOREHEAD? were the thoughts that ran through Emma’s mind once she saw what transpired. 

Emma wanted to stand there and rack her brain to find the sense in all of what had happened, but the teachers were both coming towards the entrance? Oh my goodness, Emma Kang. Go and run into a hole right now. 

Emma picked up her pace and starts to walk away, but the warm tilt of a harmonious tone traveled to her ears as Ms. (last name) greeted her from her walk toward the door. Emma stopped like a deer in headlights, and turned slowly to greet the two teachers. 

My goodness, they’re even sharing an umbrella. Emma Kang, for the first time in her life, just wants to not be a curious kid. Having to see this from her favorite teachers isn’t good for her psyche. 

“Emma Kang, it’s been a while. How are you doing this morning? Are you ready for our rainy day movie session? I didn’t expect the rain to happen so quickly into the semester, but man am I excited for our class to get together again and have some fun. Do you want to help Mr. Choi and I choose the first movie? We’ve been arguing about the lineup all –” 

“(First name), you’re rambling.” Mr. Choi interrupted, and only one thing entered Emma’s mind like a blaring siren once she saw Ms. (last name) stop and giggle about it, apologizing to the kid. 

“You two are married.” Emma blurted out in the midst of Ms. (last name)’s apology, causing the two teachers to freeze up at the accusation – no, the declaration. 

They both rubbed their necks in tandem; Ms. (last name) laughing nervously and suddenly finding interest in the school motto placed on the wall beside them. Mr. Choi looked at his wife, and then looked at his (now unfortunate) brightest student.

“You two are married right? Mr. Choi kissed your forehead and you guys got out of the same car and you guys are even holding pinkies over the handle of Ms. (last name)’s bag.” Emma asked, pointing out her deductions to the newlyweds before her. 

The air stilled once she continued on with her findings, almost laughing at the fact that they immediately let go of each others’ pinkies. Mr. Choi told Emma to follow them, walking from the entrance and to the classroom of 2A. 

Emma watched as they both started to unpack the bags, placing stuff here and there and working together like they’ve been doing this for years. Emma watched a new level of their cooperation unfold on that rainy thursday. 

After they had set up everything, Ms. (last name) walked over to Mr. Choi, and pulled at his blazer to get his attention. They had a discussion with wide eyes and ragged whispers for about five minutes before Mr. Choi raised his hands in defeat. That’s when Emma noticed that he forwent the rings he usually donned, one simple band on his left ring finger catching the light in the room. 

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Ms. (last name) said after a few moments of awkward silence. 

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers once she realized that they were admitting to her declarations. 

“You guys really are married?” She carefully asked. 

“Yes, yes we are. We recently tied the knot during the break.” Mr. Choi answers, stifling his laughter once he sees confusion slide across his student’s face. 

“What does tying a knot have to do with your marriage?” Emma confusingly questioned.

“It’s an expression. One of the many ways of saying you got married without actually saying it.” Ms. (last name) replies, pinching her husband for laughing. 

“Oh.” Is all Emma said in response. 

The adults studied her face for any odd reactions from Emma Kang, who started to have another mental battle with herself. 

“We actually wanted to tell you and the other kids about it later on.” Mr. Choi supplies helplessly. 

That didn’t seem to work though, as Emma continued to just … blankly stare at them. 

“Are you upset, Emma Kang?” Ms. (last name) asked after almost three minutes of heavy silence. 

Then Emma blinks a few times, looking up at them with something close to joy swimming in her eyes. Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) let out the breath they didn’t even know they were holding. 

“Upset? This is the best news I’ve gotten all school year. Why would I be upset when the two nicest people in the world are married?” Emma exclaims. 

“I thought you’d be upset that we didn’t say anything.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“I thought you had a crush on Mr. Choi, to be honest.” Ms. (last name) replied at the same time. 

“I’m nine.” Emma deadpanned. 

“When I was nine, I had a crush on my music teacher. I don’t see how that excuse is relevant.” Ms. (last name) said. 

“(First name) you were just an odd kid.” Mr. Choi followed up. 

Emma chuckled when she saw Ms. (last name) hit Mr. Choi on the arm for his comment. 

“You who was crushing over Sam from ‘Danny Phantom’ at that exact age, puh-lease.” Ms. (last name) accused. 

“At least she and I were closer in age than you and your old shriveled up music teacher.” Mr. Choi responded. 

“Sam isn’t even real.” Ms. (last name) said.

“Neither was your chance with that wrinkly old music teacher.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“He was 25 oh my goodness Jiung, stop calling him old.” Ms. (last name) exclaimed. 

“Even worse.” Mr. Choi replied. 

The adults stopped their playful banter when they heard Emma cracking up from her seat. 

“You guys are the sweetest.” She replied once she stopped laughing, shocked at the fond looks that stretched their smiles wide at her.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ 

The rainy day ended up with Emma harboring their secret for them, a lot of movies, and a kid crashing from a sugar rush after sneakily eating too much candy. 

Later that semester, the teachers decided to tell their class separately about their marriage, which breaks another spout of gossip between Emma, Shelby and Tommy. The news spread through More Than Words Elementary like wildfire that day. 

Questions were thrown at the couple for weeks to come after that, and a new quest (bet) was formed between the kid trio. Guessing when they’d have their first kid. 

Emma now helped the kind teachers set up for movie days whenever it rained, and a new constant had been added to Emma’s long list of things she loved.  Her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, Ms. (last name) and Mr. Choi from Class 2A. That was her list of constants.

[billyshakesp]

In the Hope of a Future Forgiveness

Forgiveness has huge symbolic implications in the Locked Tomb for many of the characters, namely Gideon and Harrow and their quest against religious trauma. I could write so much about this, but that would be more suited to a literature classroom (or AO3) than to Tumblr, so, instead, I want to focus in on one particular example that I hold very dear. Disclaimer: this is one interpretation of Harrohwark's words which I have come to. If this has already been said by someone else, I do not know of it. If you don't agree with this take, please share with me.

In Harrowhark's self-adressed letter outlining the parameters for the rest of her life as a Lyctor (which, by the way, she hoped would "extend into the next myriad," but Harrowhark's lobotomy era only lasted nine months, so RIP babygirl), she signs off with:

In the hope of a future forgiveness, I have remained, Harrowhark Nonagesimus

It's clear that Harrowhark has huge conflictions with her right to exist as a human being; thus, the most obvious interpretation of this line is that she hopes to be forgiven for the crime of breaking into the Tomb, and also for the genocide her parents mandated. However, this begs the obvious question, "forgiveness from whom?"

Harrowhark Nonagesimus wrote this in her pre-lobotomy era, so we don't have to reckon with the implications of Harrow digging her cavalier out of her skull, along with a few spoons of grey matter as collateral damage. With that in mind, forgiveness from whom?

To her knowledge, her entire house is dead. She is the last person left. I'm not too confident as to pre-lobotomy Harrow's relationship with God, but she definitely holds her accountable for Gideon's death. I don't think she cares for that man much (Which is good. Fuck God).

Gideon, of course, is the one Harrow wants to forgive her, whether she admits it to herself or not. Harrow has given her life to justify her birth, to become the greatest necromancer her house has ever produced, and perhaps the greatest necromancer the Nine Houses has ever seen. She says herself that she wants to make herself a living monument for those that died so that she could live, and live powerfully. And yet, at the end of Gideon the Ninth, Harrow attempts to offer her own life to Gideon in a desperate and albeit half-baked plan to save her cavalier. The gesture of self-sacrifice is sweet and all, but it really, really hits powerfully here; when Harrow gives Gideon her life, she is essentially saying to Gideon that Gideon is the justification of Harrow's existence. One could argue that she was sacrificing herself to the Tomb, but I think that if the Tomb was what Harrow truly cared about, she wouldn't have been so eager to let herself die. Also, she probably wouldn't have been so eager to drive a hammer into her skull.

In not so many words, Gideon is Harrow's absolution. She is her forgiveness. For Gideon Nav, Harrow sees her life as "worth it," and for Gideon Nav, Harrow sees her death as "worth it." I know I'm romanticising this with my language, so I want to take a brief moment to say that Harrowhark is so, so, so fucked up by her childhood trauma. This isn't beautiful, this isn't the perfect friendship, the perfect love; it's a mistake. Nonetheless, it's Gideon that embodies the reason for her existence. Gideon is forgiveness.

When Harrow writes the letters in "the hope of a future forgiveness," it is in the hope that she will find some measure of absolution for the crimes committed by her parents. It is also in the hope that can save the first flower and the last child of her house. She "remains Harrowhark Nonagesimus" for Gideon. She lives in the immortal hope of Gideon's resurrection. I think there's so much grief and tragedy and sorrow carved into just those few words; so much more than I originally saw in them.

Thanks for reading. Drink water, eat food, and worship the ground your friends walk on and the air they breathe. If you're reading these words as the product of the deaths of a generation of children, then know that if you just live, and live for the people you love, then that's enough. <3

[iocaisaint]

Random ACOTAR takes

cw*: my unsolicited opinions

I agree with #that woman that canon Lucien and Nesta (and I mean pre-ACOSF) would've been terrible for each other sorry

As of right now Nesta is the only Archeron sister with direct connection to the Dusk Court, like her and her alone 🤷🏾‍♀️

Out of the love square (?) Lucien is lowkey the only one with a storyline that isn't made out of paper mache and hope. There's so many angles you could go: Beron, Eris, LOA, The Autumn Court or Spring Court, Tamlin, or Day Court, Helion, being an heir, or helping Vassa with Koschei + his overall friendship with Jurian + Vassa + humans as a whole and that's without touching on the mating bond even once. Real set-up wished she'd done that with everyone else

That being said, I disagree with a bunch of Lucien's stans when it comes to his characters, y'all have a power fantasy for him that's in direct contradiction to how he's actually written (I mean I get it the books treat him like trash)

If Nesta is pregnant I'll have a crash out to end all crash outs.

Everybody in this fandom bar maybe Feysands are shipping fanon, the scenes that y'all talk about and the ones that exist on page are either not the same or straight up don't exist.

I hate the HK/HQ plot even for Nesta, like is blatant colonialism.

Everybody here is a hypocrite when it comes to their faves we'd all be happier admitting then bending over backwards.

I do not care for Elain, simply because fanon Elain is so far removed from what's on page, that most her pro arguments simply don't make sense to me.

There's no reason for Helion to give up his Pegasi but I know HOFAS was a mess but when the place was revitalised after the Asteri were murdered they came back, my guess is that place and the prison are mirror worlds so the same will happen once the Prison is liberated

Azriel isn't boring but he also isn't extremely interesting. If he was a girl no one would gaf about him, but there are enough concepts of an idea where I could see his book not being awful.

Neither the pro or the anti side gives a fuck about Emerie, double points if you're engaging in that ship war. No I won't expand on this, I'm right.

Nessian sucks, that's all.

Actually no I'm expanding on that point, the fact that people defend no "I love you" from the MMC is crazy, that fact that people defend Nesta being threatened without Cass stepping in even worse, the fact that Rhys knows he can berate Nesta in Cassian's presence....like they had an 800+ page book and I'm still having to hear about how they need to "grow as characters" y'all aren't serious people

I've become more neutral-positive to Feyre because some of the arguments against her are just crazy but on that note she'd be deeply more entertaining if the narrative wrote her refusal for self reflection as a flaw

Gwyn cannot be a evil light singer and irrelevant at the same time please pick one.

Also I don't hate the light singer theory, sorry. Monsters not actually being monsters is this series's bread and butter. It'd be great if a woman finally got that treatment

I can already tell Eris is about to be retconned to hell because SJM hates a character not being vindicated by the narrative to redeem them (she already started by implying Eris wants his father dead for #feminism). Let it be known I like/d him as is

I don't get into arguments about Rhys cause I find him boring. Y'all are fighting day in day out about faerie Ronald Reagan

Nesta should've been bi, how tf did we get stuck with Mor

I have more but that's it for now.

[writing-in-strawberry-fields]

Someone at my Side

Chapter 1: When you’re lost in the darkness

Joel Miller x Original Female Character

Content: Joel Miller established relationship for a minute. But also they have problems but are also married but not. Lost of angst. Eventually.

Warning: not even close to being done

Nic jumps from sleep with a start. The sheets that have fallen to her ankles are cool and the body next to her is warm. She takes a breath. Something is reassuring about the intimacy of the room. The familiar pattern of the sun on the bed, the cups and bottles on the nightstand, and the cheap alarm clock. Which reminds her why she woke up in the first place.

That stupid piece of shit is bleating, the noises echo in the room. Nic groans into the pillow and throws her arm out, trying to slap Joel awake. It’s not working. And of course, she’s trapped under his leg which weighs a ton in his dead sleep.

“Joel,” She mumbles as she tries to wiggle her way out from under him. “Joel. Get the fucking clock, please.”

It doesn’t seem like he’s awake yet which is frankly astonishing.

The door clocks open.

“Alarm.” It’s Sarah. She must have woken up because of the clock as well.

Nic can’t move to face the kid when she yells. “I would but your fat ass dad has trapped me.” In actuality, the yell was more of a comprehensible mumble. Nic was still half asleep, despite the clock assaulting her ears.

“I can see that,” Sarah laughs. “Alarm!”

That’s the thing about Joel. Even if the world was falling apart around them, he would always hear his daughter’s voice first. In absolutely no way did this upset Nic because if she were honest, she agreed with him. No one tells you that when you fall in love with a single parent, you tend to really love their kids.

Joel jumps up, his leg finally leasing Nic from her prison. He clumsily slaps the top of the clock and the incessant beeping finally quiets. He groans as Sarah laughs and walks out of the room. Nic flips over and watches Joel as he stretches, making some questionable noises, before turning towards her.

In a manner that is just natural for them, Joel slides his hands around her waist and her back, his face burying into the center of her chest. Her hands effortlessly find their way to his hair.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” Nic teases. Joel just lets out a gruff noise, pulling her closer and breathing her in.

“Joel,” She says, a little more awake now and he is a little more asleep. “Joel. We have to get up. Work and life and shit.” He’s unresponsive. “The sooner you get up, the quicker you come home tonight, and we have cake, and after Sarah goes to bed we can have our own little celebration.”

Joel is out of bed faster than anticipated.

He puts a shirt on (inside out but that goes unnoticed by Nic) and some jeans that are wrinkled up in the corner of the floor. Nic doesn’t have to be at work for a while so she just throws on some discarded shorts under one of Joel’s old shirts.

Her first stop on the way out of the room is the coffee pot. She pulls out two mugs and Sarah hands her sugar and milk.

“You are my favorite child,” Nic tells Sarah as she pulls the girl into a hug.

“I’m the only child you know,” Sarah mumbles into the woman's shoulder who just brushes the girl's hair and shushes her. They laugh.

“Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asks once Joel is out of the bathroom.

He pauses, thinks, and then sighs. “Oh, was I…” He looks over to Nic who just raises her eyebrows and takes a drink. “Yeah, I was. Sorry.”

Sarah just shakes her head and opens the fridge. It wasn’t empty just yet. They had a minute to gather their savings and get to the grocery store. It was on Nic’s list. It’s just that that was a very lengthy list.

“I was gonna make you birthday pancakes.”

“No,” Nic gasps dramatically as she pulls herself up onto the counter. “Not birthday pancakes.”

Joel shakes his head but forgets his annoyance as Nic passes him his coffee.

“I swear. You know I don’t really like pancakes,” Joel says as he leans next to Nic on the counter. She elbows him, giving him a look that says, “Your daughter is trying to do something nice for you and I am in control of whether or not you have a good night tonight,”

“I know you don’t like them. It was for my benefit.” Sarah’s words make Nic laugh. She lifts her cup in salute to the kid before taking another drink.

Sarah takes the mug out of her dad’s hand and replaces it with a fresh glass of orange juice. He looks at her, confused at the cup switch.

“Vitamin C,” Sarah answers plainly.

“Get me a cup then, kiddo” Nic snorts. Sarah smiles and pulls out another cup for Nic.

“You get your, uh, homework done?” Joel asks and both women turn to him with a look. “Fractions?”

Sarah laughs. It had been a long time since her homework was simply fractions. Nic takes over breakfast prep as Sarah and her dad sit down at the table. She turns off the stove and grabs some plates from the cabinet. She quickly serves up eggs and carries all three plates over to the table.

“How old are you again?” Sarah asks as she starts shoveling eggs into her face.

“Thirty-six,” Joel answers. Nic whistles at him mockingly and glares at her over his mug.

“Gonna have to wear diapers soon,” Sarah jokes. Nic high-fives her for that one.

“Who says I don’t already?” Joel snarks back and Nic can’t help but tip her head back and laugh. I would still love you then, she thought to herself and then immediately gags at how cheesy her thoughts can be. She smiled and glanced at Joel who was already looking at her. He smiles briefly before chewing and stopping. He pulls something out of his mouth.

“Shell,” Joel says glaring at his daughter.

“Calcium,” Sarah mumbles with her mouth full. She smiles, revealing scrambled eggs in her teeth.

“Lovely,” Joel sighs at his kid. The sound of the loud ass garage door opening reminds Nic of the other person who practically lives here. “Is there enough for uncle Tommy?”

“Well, there would have been,” Sarah says and without a second, Joel’s brother is walking through the house.

“Ay! You’re still alive, you old fucker,” Tommy says brightly as he makes his way into the kitchen. His steps are long and it takes Tommy all of five seconds to go breezing past Nic.

“Aw, he loves you,” Sarah jokes, and Nic laughs.

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same,” Joel’s words are directed at his brother who is rummaging through the kitchen mercilessly.

“I think it’s the same,” Sarah mumbles.

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy says loudly through the kitchen. Joel looks at Nic, expecting a retort from her but she just shakes her head and smiles. “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.” Tommy turns and looks disappointed.

“We’ll pick you somethin’ up on the road,” Joel says as he rolls his eyes, and Nic imagines he can’t believe that everyone was going to have his least favorite breakfast food on his birthday. It makes her laugh. “Concrete guys gonna be there?” Joel asks.

“Yeah, they said maybe.” Tommy opens the fridge and starts rummaging through some leftovers.

“Maybe? We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.” Joel’s voice raises slightly in frustration and also to reach Tommy, whose head is burning within the depths of the fridge.

“Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.” Tommy sniffs something in tin foil that Nic thinks is fried chicken but whatever it is, must not be too old cause he throws it in the microwave.

“No, no. I’m not splittin’ this job. I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.” At that Nic stares at him and stops her eating. She knows Joel can be a workaholic sometimes but he has to know how important his birthday is to Sarah. This is her day to celebrate her dad and he’s taking away a big chunk of it to work.

“Literally? Today?” Sarah asks in disbelief.

“I’m sure you could get off just a little early on your big day, honey. Right?”

“I know. I’d be done by nine. By nine, right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy mutters. He knows as well as everyone sitting at the table that it is extremely unlikely for Joel to get off work that early.

“I’ll bring back a cake. I promise.”

Joel looks from Sarah to Nic but both women have their gaze on the food that is now being pushed around on the plate. It’s one thing for one of them to be mad, but for both of them to be annoyed with Joel was hell on earth. In the new silence, the radio is clear.

“… continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising U.S. citizens…”

“Jakarta. Where is that, Middle East?” Joel asks, changing the subject and breaking the uncomfortable quiet.

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” Tommy says, staring at the microwave. “It’s a country.”

“Or maybe part of Asia?”

“It’s near Indonesia, no?” Nic asks, the question is aimed at Sarah because she is without a doubt, the smartest person in the house.

“Jakarta isn’t a country. Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country, and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia,” Sarah smiles at Nic before taking another bite of eggs.

“Shit. Hope for us yet,” Tommy says from the kitchen. At some point, he had acquired a mug of coffee and was nursing that when the microwave went off. When he opened the door, the unmistakable smell of fried chicken hit Nic, who smiled, knowing her guess was right.

“All right. Finish up quick,” Joel says, talking to Sarah. “We’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah mumbles through her mouthful.

“You got seven minutes.” And Nic hates how she knows Joel won’t make it home by nine and how she knows he won’t buy pancake mix or a cake. Sometimes he aggravates her to no end. But right now, when she looks over at him and he’s just eating his breakfast, his hair’s a mess, and he still looks half asleep, Nic can’t help but swoon. Joel looks over at her and smiles slightly. It seemed so natural for him to remain his grumpy self but he puts the effort in, for her, for Sarah.

Joel stands, takes his plate and Nics when she hands it to him, and moves to throw them in the sink.

“Your t-shirt’s inside out,” Sarah says to her father who takes a moment to stare at his shirt with confusion before cursing. “Shit.”

“He’s losin’ it,” Tommy says as Joel runs out of the kitchen to flip his shirt. Nic smiles.

Hate for them to leave but love to watch them go.

“He’s already lost it, Tom.”

Tommy laughs as he dumps the rest of his coffee into a travel mug before making his way to his truck. Nic moves to the refrigerator where Sarah’s lunch is. Nic puts extra effort to make Sarah lunch at least twice a week. She knows that Sarah is fully capable of doing that on her own but deep down, Nic knows that she appreciates it.

Nic rummages through the junk drawer for a sticky note and pen and when she finds what she needs, runs back to her room.

When she opens the door, Joel is barely putting his shirt back on and Nic is so happy she got to see it. “Wow there. Didn’t know I was getting breakfast and a show.”

Joel gives her a pointed look but it’s all a joke. He tucks his shirt into his jeans and walks over to Nic. She wraps her arms around his neck and smiles, pulling him down for a kiss.

“Happy Birthday to you.”

“Oh no. Please don’t start with the singing.”

Nic laughs and kisses him again, on his cheek. “Happy birthday to you.” The other cheek. “Happy Birthday to Joel.”

She pauses. Staring at him as he gives her this look of admiration. She feels like she’s falling but it doesn’t matter because Joel is holding her.

“Happy Birthday to you.”

She kisses him again and he tastes like coffee. She could spend all day kissing him but they both have work and Sarah needs to get to school. Speaking of school.

“I need you to write your daughter a note for her lunch. Especially since we both know your ass isn’t going to be back by no nine o'clock.”

Joel deflates slightly and takes the stuff from her. He pauses for a moment before scribbling something down. He rips off the top sheet and hands it to her. She smiles and runs out of the room.

Nic is throwing the note into the lunch box and pushing Joel out the door when Tommy honks at them. Sarah isn’t outside so she must still be in her room.

“Sarah!” Joel shouts back towards the house and Nic turns back around and quickly makes her way back upstairs.

“Sarah. Sarah hey-” Nic stops when she sees the girl standing in Joel’s room with a handful of cash and a knife. “Wow, kid. Whatcha doin'?” Nic leans her shoulder against the doorway and just watches.

Sarah jumps around. “I was…” Nic raises an eyebrow. “I was going to fix dad’s old watch but I needed the money.” And Nic believes her. She has no reason to think Sarah is up to anything suspicious, even if the knife was questionable. Nic trusts her.

“Well common then, I’ll drive you after school so you don’t have to go walking around the city alone.” Sarah smiles and nods. Outside, Tommy honks the horn again.

Closing the door to the house, Nic sees Joel walking out of the garage carrying some tools to throw into the bed of the truck.

“Hey, neighbor!” There is an old couple next door that is always outside in the morning when Joel, Sarah, and Tommy leave for work and school. The man, Mr. Adler, is slightly clueless, and his wife… Well, Nic has seen The Visit one too many times to feel comfortable around the silent old woman.

“Oh, hi,” Sarah says uncomfortably as she moves closer to the truck. Nic throws an arm around the girl’s shoulders for support. Nic sighs, knowing that no matter how long this conversion is going to be, it’s going to feel like an eternity.

“Uh, Connie was askin’ after you, since you haven’t been over in a while,” Mr. Adler says and his voice sounds as old as he is.

“Make ’em happy,” Joel mutters as he walks back into the garage.

“I could come by after school, but just for, like, a little bit?” Sarah says and Nic laughs at how unbearable this conversation is going to be.

“Oh, she’ll take whatcha got. Y’all can bake, whatever. Speakin’ of…” The man reaches back and grabs a plate of some of the stalest biscuits Nic has ever seen. Behind her, Joel closes the garage. “We got a lotta extra here. Y’all, y’all want some biscuits?

“Dad, you love biscuits,” Sarah says with a bit of bite and Nic smiles, tipping her head back over her shoulder to look at Joel who pauses and looks over to the couple. She follows his gaze.

The old woman has biscuit crumbs sticking out of her mouth and her husband reaches over to clean it up. It’s “slightly” disturbing.

“I do. But I’m on Atkins,” Joel smiles and hugs Nic from behind, his hands around her waist.

“Bull,” She mumbles through her smile.

“Shut it, Nicole,” Joel whispers onto her shoulder as he kisses her cheek.

“On what now?” Mr. Adler shouts and he sounds like a classic old man with failing hearing.

“It’s, uh… “ Nic steps on his foot. “You know what? We gotta run, but Sarah’ll be by later. She’ll stay as long as you want. Tell ya all about Atkins,” Joel smiles and starts around the truck, opening the door for Sarah.

“Solid,” Sarah mumbles to her dad.

“Oh, don’t forget.” Nic hands Sarah the lunch she made and steps up on the sidebar to kiss the top of her head. “Do great today, Sarah.”

Sarah smiles and nods, taking the lunch box. Closing the door, Nic turns to kiss Joel again before he leaves for work.

“Be careful. Love you.”

“Yeah yeah. Love you too,” Joel rolls his eyes. Nic knows it’s because he hates it when she tells him to be careful.

Once he climbs in, the engine starts and some loud trashy pop music starts playing as the car rolls out of the driveway.

She waits until the truck is out of sight before she makes her way back into the house. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She settled into a routine with Joel and Sarah a few years ago when she moved in. They leave for work and school and Nic spends an hour doing house chores or just extra work to just help to keep the place tidy.

So taking a deep breath, Nic pushes herself off of the door and moves to the kitchen.

There is an accumulating pile of things to do, so one by one she crosses them off the list.

Start the laundry (don’t forget Sarah’s. The kid deserves a break )

Dishes

Clean up the nightstand because who knows what's growing on there right now.

Get ready for work.

6) 7)….

And Nic absolutely kicks that list’s ass.

Since the kitchen is closest, she starts with that. It’s quick work of washing plates, forks, and cups, drying them, and putting them away. It’s probably the most difficult of her tasks so Nic is not stressed about anything else.

The laundry she gathers and separates piles into, darks, and Joels versus Sarahs. Throw it in the washing machine and it is done with that task. The nightstand is not difficult work, but it’s probably the one Nic is most dreading. There are a concerning number of bottles and cans and other random crap that doesn’t belong on a nightstand.

She throws away what should have been trashed weeks ago and cleans whatever cups missed the first load of dishes. When she’s done fixing it up and wiping down the wooden surface, she moves to the closet to get dressed. Nic works a very low-maintenance job, she cuts hair. She’s not a professional hairdresser but she’s skilled and works with a therapy group of Parents of Kids with Autism.

Nic had a little sister who had autism. Carina. Nic attended a similar support group with her mom and learned a lot. Cutting hair doesn’t pay the bills but Nic’s between jobs right now and rich white moms who don’t care about their kids will give you a lot of money if they think you can make their lives easier.

Nic dresses in simple clothes, nothing flashy or congested. Dressing simply helped make her job easier.

When Nic has done everything and has twenty minutes to spare, she rewards herself. She cuts some strawberries (effectively creating more dirty dishes), covers the fruit in sugar, and throws herself down on the couch. When she grabs the remote and the TV flickers on, Nic hardly pays attention.

Jakarta comes up again in the background noise and Nic shrugs. What a coincidence, she ignorantly thinks to herself.

Soon enough she loses track of time and now she’s late. When Nic surges through the client’s doors, they are not very pleased with her tardiness.

Nic has established a theme for herself today. She was grossly late for work, she was supposed to meet Joel for lunch and she did, but they only had a few minutes before she had to leave again. And now. Nic felt overwhelming guilt as she pulled up in front of Sarah’s school…. 15 minutes late.

“I am so sorry kiddo. I don’t know what happened. I have been discombobulated all damn day, and there was this absolute bitch of a mother I had to deal with-” Nic is cut off by Sarah’s laughter as the girl gets in the car.

“It’s fine Nic. It’s not raining. Like last time,” Sarah trains off in a playful voice. Nic groans.

“Hey. That was one time!”

The drive through the city is stretches on and creates an anxious atmosphere but Sarah doesn’t seem to notice this as she gazes out the window. She doesn’t get to come into the city often and when she does, it’s a whole nother world. Living on the outskirts of Austin is nothing like being in the middle of all the chaos. Nic grew up in the city, this was her home.

The ride is silent except for the buzz of the radio which has been finely tuned to perfect by Sarah. The winding familiar streets eventually lead Nic to where she wants to go.

The Lone Star Watch and Jewelry store.

Nasir, the old shopkeeper with thinning hair and steady hands is leaning over the counter, looking through the mechanics of Joel’s old watch.

“Twenty,” He says, his accent thick. The clocks on the wall behind tick loudly and it makes Nic stressed. She loves this shop but right now she can’t help but feel uneasy.

“That’s it?” Sarah asks the price considerably lower than anticipated apparently.

“Okay, 30.”

“Don’t hustle the kid, Nasir,” Nic responds teasingly, leaning her elbow on the counter and shifting her weight to one side. She smiles at him playfully and he gives her a smile and points at her jokingly.

“Twenty’s good,” Sarah nods and smiles at the interaction between the two. Nic never pretends, how she acts with adults is practically the same as how she acts with Sarah. No bullshit.

Nic knows how important this gift is for Sarah, and how excited she is to give her dad something for his birthday. Nic knows how important Sarah’s dad is to her. The kid passes over the cash and pockets the rest. Nic gives her a look.

“It’s a spring. I’ll do it right now,” Nasir says as he turns around and finds the piece he’s looking for. He is always efficient and Nic has very little problem with his handiwork. With his back turned, Nic looks at Sarah again.

“What are your plans to do with the change?” Nic asks, keeping the question light and not making any accusations just yet. Sarah gives her a look.

“What do you think I’m going to do?”

“Buy hard-core drugs.” Nic’s tone is serious but she cracks a smile. Sarah just chuckles and shakes her head. Sometimes Sarah is just so much like Joel that Nic can’t help but laugh. Both would deny it but they are nearly identicals.

The phone in the back starts ringing and outside sirens.

One, two, three, four cop cars. Two fire trucks. Three ambulances. What the hell is going on outside? Nic thinks to herself. The ominous task force only adds to the strange atmosphere Nic has had all day and she can’t shake this feeling that something is just so out of balance. A S.W.A.T. car drives by.

“All day. I swear,” Nasir sighs, shaking his head. Nic wants to ask what he’s talking about but his wife walks out in a frenzy, the beads hanging from the doorway chattering behind her. She announces that the store is closing for the day.

“Huh?” Nasir glances up from his work to stare at his wife. She gives him a look that gives Nic chills. Nasir’s wife says something in Arabic, and while Nic failed her language courses, she knows when someone isn’t happy with their spouse. No matter the dialect.

“We’re done for today.” She flips over the closed sign against the door in an angry manner. Nic stands up straighter, the woman’s hostile attitude putting her on edge.

“It’s 3:15, we close at 7.” Nasir gestures to the clocks around them and then turns back to Joel’s watch. She tells him something that Nic doesn’t understand before taking Sarah by the arm.

“I’m very sorry. He cannot finish.” But the way the woman is holding Sarah makes Nic uncomfortable and she makes an effort to move between the two.

“I’m already finished,” Nasir responds, his wife is not happy with him and demands the watch, throws it into Nic’s hands, and ushers the two customers to the door.

“You two should go home.”

The door closes behind them and the curtain is drawn. Uncomfortable, Nic practically gets a speeding ticket racing home. Sarah doesn’t seem too bothered which is some comfort to Nic.

She parks in the driveway.

“Alright. You might want to get over to the Adlers. You’re late,” Nic hears the hypocrisy and snorts to herself. Sarah doesn’t quite move out of the garage yet and Nic turns to the girl.

“Could you pick up ice cream? Like backup ice cream. In case dad forgets a cake?”

Nic tries not to wince as she nods. Sarah smiles sadly before moving over to the neighbor's house. Nic watches her walk to the door, and the kid waves at her before entering the house. Mrs. Adler (not Grandma Adler) also waves. Nic shifts the car into reverse and is back out on the road.

And Nic buys the best fucking ice cream she can find. While she’s out at the store she also makes sure to buy some more eggs and pancake mix. She chuckles to herself while checking out. She can never be somewhere on time and Joel for the life of himself, can’t remember a damn thing. A pair made in fucking heaven.

When she gets home, she fills her arms with all of the bags because Nic believes that two trips are for the weak. She had gotten her EBT points and had splurged on a fancy dinner for her and Sarah. Potatoes, asparagus, and the best cut of ribeye the meat section at the grocer’s had to offer. The two and a half hours that Sarah spends next door are filled with frying and chopping. The kitchen smells divine, especially after Nic updated Joel’s spice rack. (“You have to have more than salt and pepper Joel.” He smiles. “We have Cinnamon.”)

The door opens and Sarah throws her bag down next to the door.

“Smells delicious,” Sarah says dramatically as she sits down at the table. Nic smiles as she turns off the stove and moves to the designated serving section of the kitchen.

“Well, you are just in time sugar. Cause mama’s done cookin' up in this bitch.” (Nic might have taken a shot or two while cooking.) But Sarah just laughs as Nic brings the plates over. Regardless of the alcohol in her system, the food was perfect. The two eat mainly in silence due to how quickly they’re just shoving this food into their mouths. To be fair, it was a fantastic meal.

Nights like these have become more common over the years when Nic makes dinner, sometimes with Sarah’s help, and they eat, watch TV, talk. It’s nice. Sarah has become like a daughter to Nic, and it’s cliche to say but it’s true. Every band concert, soccer game, and dance, Nic is there to cheer her on and help her up when she falls. And Sarah has been so supportive of Joel and Nic’s relationship. It was hard at first, Mother’s Days were difficult, still are, but waking up to breakfast in bed the past two years or so was a treat. Sarah has a mother, but sometimes it’s nice to have a mom.

After dinner, Nic is laying on the couch, channel surfing, next to Sarah who is working on her homework. The few times Nic glances over at the kid’s work, she gets a headache. Definitely not fractions.

Time passes faster than anticipated and soon enough Joel is an hour late. Maybe he’s been hanging around Nic too much. Sarah finished her homework and was now flipping through a magazine, her head resting on Nic’s lap.

Nic remembers as a kid when she would stay up reading, her father would yell at her, saying there wasn’t enough light in the room and that she would hurt her eyes. She wanted to tell Sarah about it but the News on TV caught her attention.

“No comment today from the Austin Police Department regarding a rash of violent incidents across the city, some suggesting a new street drug may be to blame. More on that when we return, with Manuela Sanchez reporting live…”

The sun had long since set and the TV was the only light when the sound of the doorknob turning caused Sarah to sit up.

“You locked the door for once.” Joel’s voice is tired and his steps are heavy as he walks through the door. “Good job.” Sarah looks unimpressed and Nic just stares. It’s important to show up for your kids, especially on important days like today.

“Yeah,” Sarah sighs and sits up more on the couch. Nic reaches over to the coffee table to grab the remote and mute the TV. Joel throws himself down between Sarah and Nic.

“It’s 10,” Sarah says expectantly.

“I know. They… gave us the wrong size for the headers. That doesn’t mean anything to ya. I’m sorry,” Joel looks over at Sarah with sad eyes but she’s relentless.

“Where’s the cake?”

Joel’s reaction is instant. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans. “Shit.”

“C’mon, man,” Sarah cries disappointedly. Nic puts a hand on Joel’s back and she rubs it softly. Joel sits back up.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow.”

“Swear, or you don’t get your present,” Sarah says.

“You got me a present?” Joel’s instant mood change is hysterical. And he turns towards Sarah. “Swear.”

“On my life.” Joel has this smile on his face that he only reserves for Sarah, it almost looks like he’s a kid again with the joy that comes into his eyes.

Sarah nods at Nic who slowly, so as not to draw any attention to herself, stands from the couch and moves to the kitchen. She finds some old candles that are practically melted down into nubs and rummages around through the junk drawer for the lighter. By the time she makes it back into the living room, Joel is laughing and holding his watch while Sarah just watches her dad in admiration.

“Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it for yourself, so.”

“Thank you,” Joel says as he starts to put the watch on his wrist. He must catch the might of the candles cause he looks over and there’s a look on his face of something that is a pure mix of shock and contentment.

Nic holds a bowl of ice cream with a crooked candle in the center as she sits on the table across from Sarah and Joel and starts to sing.

“Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Joel/Dad, Happy Birthday to you!”

Joel laughs and goes to blow out the candle. Sarah is ecstatic.

“No!” Joel gives Sarah an incredulous look. “You can’t just blow it out. You have to make a wish.” Sarah’s voice is harsh but she’s smiling and she’s looking at her dad like he is the only person in the world that could ever possibly matter.

Joel rolls his eyes, closes them, waits for a beat, and then blows out the candles. Sarah claps as Nic moves the couch and pulls out three spoons from her pocket and passes them out.

“Oh! There’s one more,” Sarah says as she reaches behind a couch cautiously and reveals the DVD. Curtis and Viper 2. “Borrowed it from the Adlers.”

“Oh, this is the one with the deleted scenes.” Joel takes the disc and admires it, flipping it around, almost as if to check if it’s real.

“No way,” Nic gasps, taking it from him. He gives her a stupid pouty face that makes her smile. She can’t believe she’s holding this ancient artifact of a movie. (She’s exaggerating of course, but things of this crudity aren’t allowed anymore. It’s exciting to have the opportunity to watch it again).

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be. C’mon, pop it in. While it’s still your birthday.”

Nic throws the disc into the DVD player and reclines back on the couch on Joel’s other side. He moves and groans dramatically. Sarah’s head is resting on his opposite shoulder. It’s just Sarah, Joel, and Nic on the couch, huddled together like it’s gonna get cold and the intro to the movie starts to play.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“‘Course, I won’t,” Sarah says. “It’s too riveting. And I have to finish my ice cream.”

Nic snorts and before long is falling asleep to the sounds of gunshots, explosions, ninjas, and the lingering taste of ice cream.

[marblerose-rue]

click for better quality!

are you gonna start climbing, or what? / needletail

[aru-art]

been on an oc redesign kick. this is incomprehensible to anyone but me and like 2 other people probably. hi tim if ur reading this

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[augustatheghost]

i don’t know what you guys are all complaining about i love that svu has vaporized olivia from woman on the verge to lady cragen

[cuteniaarts]

Digitalised + coloured + redesigned version of my Suiren and Vaatu sketch from two days ago, as promised!!

Coming up with Suiren’s design was a very long process of trying and failing because after you’ve drawn 9+ different versions of one character, the creativity starts to run a little dry, but I’m actually really proud of this one, she looks absolutely adorable <3

(Also yeah I did mostly just scribble Vaatu’s pattern because who has the energy to draw the all out accurately. Not me, that’s who, I’m chronically tired. People who draw him on the regular have my utmost respect. He’s still a funky little guy though :D)

Bonus, Raava incessantly screaming inside Suiren (and being completely ignored because Suiren is tired of her) while all this is happening:

[nat-has-two-girlfriends]

me rn

Episodes come out at 5 am for me so I will be waking up to carnage on the tl/dashboard 😗✌️

[cathalbravecog]

i'm the antonymph of the internet