#maybe next year will be the year I will finally get some more OC stuff done1

[redkehlchen]

Happy Holidays! :)

My goal for this year was to draw my OCs more often. Well.. I certainly thought about them a lot! Still have to work on that drawing part some more… Next year! :“)

[plantenjoyer]

I SWEAR I KEEP TRYING TO DO ART BUT THEN SOMETHING GETS IN THE WAY AND THEN I PROCRASTINATE AND THEN SIX MONTHS PASS

[sunlightmurdock]

Ashes, Ashes | Two | Bradley Bradshaw

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Synopsis: In which Maverick didn’t make it home after the Uranium mission. He’s missing, presumed dead. There are things that have to be done — someone has to take care of the house, the bills.

So, Maverick’s daughter is back in Fightertown for the first time since she was in elementary school. There’s a gaping hole in both of their lives now, and somehow, the world’s supposed to just keep on turning without him.

warnings: bradley bradshaw x minimally descriptive oc avery mitchell. age gap (23/33), smut, angst, hurt / comfort, mentions of character death, mourning, military inaccuracies. This entire fic and my blog is an 18+ space, minors do not interact. Do not repost.

…

Bradley rents a bungalow about twenty minutes from base, towards the south of the San Diego bay. He explains, on the drive there, while she is hugging an overnight bag of her things, that he’s been renting it from this sweet old lady for the past four years — but he’s only been living in it for about three quarters of that time, with deployments.

He talks a lot. Shooting halfway amused looks across at him every now and again as he talks over his music, explaining his entire rental history, Avery just lets him go on and on.

Maybe he’s worried that the silence will give her room to start tearing up again, but she knows that won’t happen — it was already a rare occurrence, just the once. 

She lets him talk. He doesn’t seem to mind how much attention she’s paying either. Anything other than silence is fine, even if he’s the only one filling it.

The respite comes when he parks in the driveway, hops out, and proudly displays the home to her. It’s white all over and covered in plants, all up the driveway and over the porch. There’s a surfboard sitting on the porch, waxed up and looking ready to go.

Inside is masculine and simple, and spotless. It looks more lived in than Maverick’s place, but in an exceptionally organised way. 

Just past the front door, he has an organised entryway with a closet and one of those shoe racks that looks like an end table. 

Beyond that, his living area is all open plan. His kitchen is to the left right as you walk in, and the living room is the clear focus. He’s got a big grey sectional pointed at a big tv with a stack of video games beside it.

He doesn’t ask her to take her shoes off by the door, but she copies politely when he kicks his off. 

That leaves her, blue and white tube socks, toeing against the chewed up corner of the area rug while he busies himself with fixing the few things he deems to be out of place. 

Itching to keep moving, she prods at the fabric, examining the teeth marks, wondering where the dog must be.

“Oh— that was my ex-girlfriend’s dog. I’ve been meaning to buy a new rug.” He explains, furrowing his brows at the spot as he tosses a throw pillow down onto his soft looking grey couch. “Um — so, I do have a guest room, but it’s kind of a gym right now. You can just make yourself at home, and I’ll go get everything out of your way.”

“I can take the couch.”

“No, no, you deserve some privacy at least. I’ll just be a sec — I have sodas and beers in the fridge, glasses are in the cabinet to the right. Help yourself.” He’s a good host, and a better one than she had been yesterday, considering that Maverick’s place is now technically her own.

As he heads for the long, stretching hallway, she shoots a look back down at the mauled rug. With how spotless the rest of this place is, he must have really liked that girl to let her bring her dog here, and to let it chew up his stuff.

She wonders, aimlessly, if he was mad about it. If they argued. If they broke up long ago.

Avery hasn’t had too many relationships of her own. Some mediocre sex and a couple of couch-based movie dates here and there, nothing to write home about. 

She sits cautiously, sinking into the pillowy cushion of the couch, taking the time finally to really look around her. The space is bright, with big windows all around and a view of the bay. There’s a sun catcher dancing from the curtain rod, casting rainbows across his wooden floors.

Maybe his ex had bought that, too.

The bungalow is small, but it fits all of his belongings with an abundance of space left. Avery thinks back to her father’s place, always cluttered and spilling over with junk, treasure from his years of travels.

Maybe Bradley is a little bit less sentimental about keeping things.

He rattles around in the room at the end of the hall for a while, huffing occasionally. While waiting on the couch, she considers getting up and offering to help a few times, but ultimately convinces herself against it.

“Alright! Fresh sheets and some space to move, there’s still a bunch of stuff in there but I tried to get it out of your way.” He comes strolling back down the hallway and drops down onto the couch at her side, letting out a heavy sigh.

She screws her mouth up a little, looking across at him while he rests his eyes, long, dark eyelashes brushing his warm cheeks. His long legs, covered by worn denim, stretch out far enough that he has to bend them around his coffee table.

When one hand comes up to card through his mussed curls, she catches sight of the tattoo inked across the expanse of his bicep. LXXXVI. ‘86. She starts to think on it, letting him enjoy his moment of peace, when he shifts and startles her enough to drag her eyes away from his flexing arm.

“Thanks, for everything,” Avery manages to still sound a little cautious in her tone, even when she’s rushing to speak. “Staying last night, driving me around today, letting me stay with you. I really appreciate it.”

He smiles without opening his eyes, reaching out and letting his hand pat skim across the seam of her jeans, patting at her knee platonically.

“Any time.” He breezes, cool. 

The first night is uneventful. Avery sleeps restlessly on the futon in Bradley’s spare bedroom, turned home gym. 

She pretends that she doesn’t see the numbers on the sides of the weights, and pretends also that she doesn’t give a little bit of her imagination to the way that tattoo must move when he lifts them.

When she wakes up, Bradley is gone and there is a note on the kitchen counter explaining that he went for a run. He was gone for two hours, trying to run far enough that the sick, hot, thudding feeling in his chest would stop.

Back at the house, Natasha stops by and spends the afternoon. She lets herself into the place with her key, which sits on her own keychain like she’s had it for a while. Watching a sitcom from the armchair while they sit beside each other on the couch, Avery notices that the two of them are very close.

She wonders if Natasha happens to have a dog.

Sleep doesn’t come any easier for either one of them the second night. When he finally catches sight of the red, flashing declaration on his alarm clock that it is now 2:01am, Bradley gives up.

He tries to be quiet as he’s getting up, careful not to wake Avery. They’re in much closer quarters in his place than they had been back at Maverick’s house, her door is right opposite his across the narrow hallway.

He pads down the hallway, rubbing at his eyes, tossing up whether he’s going to try to drink something warm and go back to bed, or if he’s just going to stay up. He can’t keep not sleeping.

He almost heads straight for the kitchen, freezing in his tracks as he finally takes note of the blue light coming from his living room, and the sound of women’s voices. It takes him a second, even though he’d been being so considerate on her behalf, to remember that he has a guest over.

“Ave?” He mumbles. 

The TV immediately falls silent. She winces from her spot on the couch, craning her neck to try to see him at the edge of the hallway.

“Just me. I’m sorry! Did I wake you?” She sounds worried. He’s still half asleep. 

He shakes his head as he steps out from the shadows and heads for his kitchen. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you to be up. I couldn’t sleep.”

He passes by pretty quickly, concealed behind the kitchen island in just a few steps. Still, she saw him. Illuminated only by the light of the television, wearing a tight pair of black boxer briefs and dog tags around a silver chain. Long, muscled legs and tapered hips. 

Sure, he was good looking before, and clearly fit — but she wasn’t expecting what had been under those slightly loose t-shirts.

Her mouth is dry as she mumbles out a soft, “Me either.”

“D’you want a tea?” He stands with her back to her now, reaching around in the darkness of his kitchen. She stares, unblinking, at his back.

“You drink tea?”

“Sometimes,” He cranes his neck to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s not weird.”

Her lips almost quirk, and she gives him a confirming shake of her head. “I didn’t say it was. Do you have green tea?”

He scoffs without looking. “Of course I have green tea.”

This whole lack of sleep thing isn’t new to him. It comes with the grief, but it’s there even when he feels like he isn’t grieving anymore. Since he was a kid, Bradley has had thoughts that keep him up at night, thoughts bad enough to stir him from peaceful, pleasant dreams.

He’s tried every tea in the catalog.

He carries the two mugs across the living room without once noticing the way he’s been stared at. He sets hers down on a cute little wicker coaster on his coffee table, walking past and dropping down onto the corner of the sectional.

His legs stretch out and he shifts and twists until he finds himself comfortable. “What’s this?”

She sets her gaze steadily on the television, her hands in her lap, wondering if he’s this brash with all of his house guests. With a swallow, she shrugs her shoulders. “Oh, it’s just this TV show about a columnist in New York in the nine—“

“Are you explaining Sex and the City to me?” Bradley sounds bewildered, his face stark as he stares at her across the couch. Avery’s lips tug at a smile, and she almost forget the nerves she’d been feeling.

Until, the light from the television catches on the silver of his dogtags. Her gaze drops, like a flicker, to his bare, toned chest — and she swiftly looks back to the television.

“You’ve seen it?” She asks softly.

He’s beyond good looking. He’d always been okay looking, he’d had a nice smile in all of those pictures she had seen. But now, the roundness of his cheeks is gone and he has grown into his nose, his lips are a shade of pink that would be a bestseller in cosmetics. 

Avery curses herself; she had been pretty successfully pretending not to notice that he had gotten good looking. Then, he comes strolling down that hallway and making her tea from his apparently extensive collection, having the nerve to sprawl across his own couch looking like that. 

Across from a girl who hasn’t seen any action in the better part of a year too. 

She almost scowls. 

“Every episode,” He answers gleefully. At first, she thinks of Natasha or that mysterious girlfriend with the badly behaved dog. Then, he adds, “This was my mom’s favourite TV show, ever.”

And suddenly, she feels a little guilty for acting like those muscles make him some kind of ladies’ man. Just because the rest of them have been, she guesses. 

Bradley seems like a nice guy. He slept in a bed clearly meant for a child all night last night, and he let her take the first shower this morning, he chased her across the parking lot and offered to fix all of her problems in one fell swoop. 

Maybe that’s because of some kind of debt he thinks he owes to Pete, and maybe it’s just because that’s the kind of man he is.

She glances across, watching him chuckle at a classic Samantha one-liner and take a sip of a raspberry herbal tea. Wrinkling her nose, she settles back down into the spot she had been relaxing in, and lets herself zone out again. 

They watch a couple of episodes. Unlike earlier, Bradley doesn’t feel the need to talk. He likes the quiet, mixed with their frequent chuckles. It’s an okay thing, to not have to fill that silent void. 

Avery is the first to excuse herself to go back to bed, and she hasn’t once mentioned his little Calvin Kleins or the way they make his thighs look. 

As she walks away, Bradley catches himself. He hadn’t much thought about what she might wear to bed, or what she’d been wearing when he first sat down with her. Her hips wiggle in her stride, her fitted pyjama shorts hugging her ass as she heads for the guest room. 

The material of her loose t-shirt is tucked in at the back. Those cotton shorts hug her hips and show off just the tiniest glimpse of her round ass, from where they have ridden up a little.

He looks away before she’s even out of view, but it doesn’t change what he had been thinking. She’s Pete’s kid, for gods’ sakes. Not much of a kid anymore, but still, it wouldn’t be right.

Man, Maverick would hate it, too. 

Bradley wishes, silently, that he was here to scold him. Pete would square his shoulders and get that rare and serious look on his face, warning Bradley to keep his hands to himself. And Bradley would smile and taunt him, saying, “Don’t worry, Mav, I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

With her dad gone, it just makes it worse.

These next few weeks are going to be hard, and the least he could do is think with his head to keep things simple between the two of them. He heads back to bed late enough for it to almost not be worth it. 

He wakes to the sound of chaos over the comms, that same last conversation, those snowy peaks behind his eyelids. 

Mouth dry, heart thudding, his eyes are still shut when he stumbles out into the hall and twists the bathroom door handle. It jams, and he remembers. The sounds of water coming from behind the door stops abruptly.

Peeking her head around the shower curtain, already wincing, Avery calls back out to him. “Sorry! I’ll just be a second!”

“No — sorry, take as long as you want.” He calls back, shaking his head and heading for the kitchen. Restless and anxious, he splashes cold water across his face and thinks about Pete.

He saw Mav do this insurmountable times. He remembers all of the mornings that Mav would wake up gasping, shaking, and he would head straight for the bathroom, bolting the door. He’d come back out okay again. He wonders if Mav still did it, even all these years later.

If he still heard Goose’s voice through the comms, calling him out of his dreams. 

The thought makes him shudder. The bathroom door unlocking makes him flinch, looking up sharply. 

Avery steps out of the bathroom, her hair still dry and tied back, droplets of water still beading along the skin and flowing under the plush blue towel she had taken from the linen closet. He had told her to help herself, but he’s staring at her now and she’s second guessing herself.

He stands at his kitchen sink, his hands braced against the countertop, his knuckles white. She barely even notices his little Calvin Kleins. Her brows knit together as she takes a step toward him, barely visible around the corner.

“Hey… are you okay?” Her face creases with concern, lingering in the hallway so that he can see her just enough.

He remembers to let go of the countertop.

“Yeah,” He breathes out, unconvincingly, reaching up and shaking a hand through his tangled curls. He takes a second, trying to gather his thoughts enough to keep the conversation moving. “Were you still thinking you’re gonna need a job while you’re here?”

She blinks, her scrunched up face relaxing as she takes another step closer, cocking her head at him.

“Um, yeah. I think so.”

He nods. “Get dressed. We’ll go see my friend in a bit, can see if it’s something you might be interested in. Maybe, then we’ll take your car to a mechanic this afternoon.” 

Out of the house, he feels like he can breathe again. It’s just sleeping, that’s all. When he’s really awake, he can control it all a little better, it doesn’t get to him as much.

He drives the same way he had yesterday. Three fingers around the bottom of the wheel, seventies music playing. Today, the windows are down. Avery makes a pretty good passenger — she doesn’t ask him to change his music and she doesn’t put her head in the way when he’s trying to check his mirrors.

Mainly because she isn’t once watching the road, but that’s okay. 

She looks around the city like she’s seeing it for the first time. Mav lived her for longer than she’s been alive — and the entire place seems foreign to her.

Bradley knows both of his parents’ hometowns like the back of his hand, and he still hasn’t ever lived in either one of them. 

“Did your dad ever tell you about Penny?” He asks so calmly, drumming his fingers along the wheel, Ray-Ban caravans sitting across the bridge of his nose.

The look that Avery shoots him gives him more than enough of an answer. She sets her phone down in her lap and studies him, frowning slightly.

“Who’s Penny?”

Shit. Bradley shakes his head and his voice pitches up a fraction. “Oh, she and Mav were just good friends for a long time.”

A product of one of Maverick’s ‘good friendships’ herself, Avery doesn’t need Bradley to explain to her what that means. It makes her a little less excited to get to wherever he’s taking her. 

With one quick glance across, he catches the little frown settling across her lips.

“She owns that bar on Breakers Beach. We drove past it yesterday when we saw Admiral Simpson?” Bradley prompts her, glancing across at the passenger seat. She nods along. “I texted her yesterday and she really wanted to meet you, said you can have some shifts there if you want them.”

Avery wrinkles her nose, trying not to frown across at him when he’s doing his best to just be helpful.

“What? — What’s that look?” He prompts, looking across at her with an amused smile toying at his lips. 

“She’s like a long time ago ex, right? She wasn’t dating Pete recently?” 

Bradley thinks on his answer for a moment. He isn’t surprised that she figured out there was something between Mav and Penny, he would have figured it out too.

But, he had heard of Mav’s experience with Penny Benjamin a long time before he had actually gotten to meet Penny Benjamin. Really, he’s surprised to find that Avery has never heard of her, she and Mav were really on and off for quite a while.

He guesses that Mav kept that kind of thing from her.

Which means that he would want Bradley to keep the fact that he had seen Mav and Penny leave the bar together three times in the weeks leading the mission to himself too.

“Yeah. Like a long time ago.” He confirms.

“Alright, okay — yeah, this’ll be good,” Avery sounds more like she’s giving herself a pep talk than like she’s replying to him. He shoots her a smile and a nod anyway. “Thanks, again, by the way. You’re cool for setting this all up.”

Cool. Not the kind of compliment he’s usually searching for from a pretty girl, but he’ll take it.

Reaching across the centre console, he gives her knee a quick squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mitchell.”

Briefly, his palm lingers there. It’s just because he’s focusing on turning into the parking lot, but it’s still his large palm hugging the curve of her knee for a minute longer than it should have.

Completely over the thick protection of her jeans, but she stares at the touch anyways. Then, she dares to look back up at him. Totally relaxed as he pulls into a spot up front like it’s his own personal one. 

One more squeeze, and he takes his hand back and swings open the door. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the middle of the week at noon.

 Avery follows him out of the vehicle, gingerly matching his pace as he heads inside. It’s once he’s spotted that she falters. 

“Rooster!” Someone even taller than he is comes marching up right away and throws his arms around Bradley. Bradley hugs him loosely, greeting him with an aloof but firm pat of the back.

“Payback.” He greets quietly.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you. How are you holding up?” His warm eyes bore into Bradley, his head bowed slightly and his voice sincere. He hasn’t spotted her yet.

“I’m alright,” Bradley sounds convincing enough, but this Payback guy hadn’t seen how rattled Bradley had looked this morning. “This is Avery.” 

Finally, Payback’s gaze flickers to the girl standing behind Rooster. Halfway tucked behind his shoulder, staring at him through her lashes, looking totally lost and sheepish.

“Mav’s kid?”

In the short time Bradley has known her, he knows that’s not the kind of response she would have wanted to get.

Swinging his arm out and throwing the heavy limb around her shoulders, Payback watches Rooster drag the stunned girl out from behind him and present her at his side. “It’d pay you to learn your new bartender’s name, Fitch.”

He’s looking Avery right in the eye, and he already can see that Bradley’s going to have to be reminded that not everyone likes the heavy handed approach to affection he can have.

Still, he smiles at her like he means it and nods his head respectfully.

“Already got it, it’ll be good to have you around, Avery.” 

A small smile works its way across her lips, grateful if not anything else.

“Nice to meet you.” She answers him quietly, stiff against Bradley’s side. He pats her back and urges her forwards.

“Here, this is Penny. Penny, meet your new bartender.”

Penny Benjamin is tall and striking, standing behind the bar with her eyes already on the new bartender. There’s a recognition and affection in the blue of her gaze that tells Avery she was lied to just a moment ago.

That’s a woman who cared deeply for Pete Mitchell.

It puts a bad taste in her mouth, a pit in her stomach, a sudden coldness about the possibility of this job. Even if just for a short time, for however long she’s here, she’s just going to be an extension of the man she had always felt so far from.

Penny cocks her head to the side, just a bit. Sure, she can see semblances of Pete in the girl across from her, but it’s the rigid, flighty look in her eyes that catches Penny’s attention. 

Across from her is someone with something to prove, and a character they’ve been playing for a long time now. That’s what feels most familiar.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Avery says stiffly, trying to sound like she means it. 

Penny nods, smiling. She glances towards Bradley, then back to the girl still tucked under his arm.

“You too. Let’s talk.” 

As Jimmy takes over the bar duties, Bradley’s left with the prospect of facing his friends when Penny and Avery disappear toward the back deck.

He scratches at the back of his neck, shooting one last look at the two of them over his shoulder, and wondering what he’s supposed to say to all of those guys. 

One by one, he could manage… but all in a group like that? — He hasn’t seen most of them since it happened. 

It’s Natasha that he can trust to catch his eye first, giving him that kind of look cautious parents give their kids when coaching them on a bike. She worries a lot for someone who swears that she doesn’t care about the meatheads she hangs out with.

He heads for her as coolly as he can manage, hoping that the other guys know not to give him a hard time today. They don’t, they never would. 

His therapist says it’s a defensive thing, the way he waits for people to say the wrong thing. When he’s hurt, he expects it, almost. He’s trying to get out of it. 

They can all give him credit for that.

Even so, it doesn’t take long for conversation to fade from small talk to the newest, most exciting subject.

“So, she’s staying at your place?” Natasha’s the first one to bring up the missing party, picking up on a comment about the two of them arriving together.

Bradley shakes his head and fiddles with his root beer bottle. “No, she’ll be over at Mav’s place once we get her car fixed up. It’s a real piece of shit, I don’t even know what they’d do to make it run any better.”

“Mav loves cars — and he lets her drive a shitbox like that?” It’s Javy who scoffs that out, the only one still talking about the Captain who had taken a shine to him in present tense. 

Bradley just shrugs. This isn’t the place to unpack whatever went down between Mav and Avery. He doesn’t know enough, even if he wanted to talk about it.

“She came all the way down here by herself?” Callie asks. She doesn’t say it, but she’s referring to the fact that her mother came all the way out to Lemoore to try to move her into the barracks like it was college when she was that age. 

Bradley shrugs again. He hasn’t heard much about Avery’s mom in the past twenty years, he isn’t even sure that he ever met her — certainly wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a crowd. All he knows is the gossip he’d gotten from his mom when it was all going down. 

“How’s she doing?” Bob asks, his blue eyes deep and sincere as he searches Bradley’s face, knowing better than to ask the same question. 

“Okay, I think.” Bradley muses, thinking of how quickly Avery had questioned the recovery efforts yesterday. “I dunno how close they were, but it’s always gotta be hard. Just… trying to make it a little easier on her, I guess.” 

They all nod, slowly.

And then Avery comes marching back inside, her chin high and her hair a little wind-swept, making a beeline right for the closest thing she’s got to a friend in this town.

“Hey.” Bradley offers her a smile, and reaches out for her. His hand grazes the back of her bicep, and she smiles more genuinely than she has in the past two days.

“Hi.”

He catches sight of himself being watched, and takes a look back over Avery’s shoulder to find Penny looking. Her blue eyes flicker down to his hand on Avery’s arm. 

Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head, and Bradley’s mouth almost falls open. There’s no way she thinks that he’s hitting on Avery. He’s just being friendly.

Penny knows Bradley well enough to know that. He’s always been a very affectionate guy. Still, the look that she gives him is one that certainly, and silently, tells him to keep his hands to himself. 

He blinks, and finds his friends looking back at him expectantly. 

“So, you’re taking the job?” He checks, shaking off Penny’s watchful eyes and settling back into what he knows. Avery nods her head at him.

“Starting tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. That’s way soon. He’s going to have to make sure he doesn’t keep her up until four in the morning watching the misadventures of Carrie Bradshaw tonight. 

“Well, guys, say hi to your new bartender.” 

He brings the bottle of rootbeer back up to his lips and shoots a quick glance back over Avery’s shoulder. Penny stares back, unfazed, as he narrows his eyes back at her.

What does she know about anything, anyways?

…

[outofconcheol]

Collision (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: football player!Minho x RA!reader (afab) genres/au/rating: smut, fluff, some angst, college au, 18+ summary: The school year was a chance to start fresh - make new memories, meet new people, and most of all to leave the past behind. But Lee Minho is determined to make sure you never forget the one summer night you’d spent with him - no matter how hard he has to work for it.

warnings: alcohol, swearing, some crude jokes, OC is a bad RA, Minho is very whipped, such poor communication, minor mention of weed, bad poetry, disciplinary action against students

word count: 14k

a/n: it's finally finished! this was the result of me spiraling after seeing this tiktok edit of Super Bowl Minho? also totally not because i was also an RA who lived next to a pack of frat boys in college (don't jump into fountains with boys kids). this also might be a good time to confess that i know nothing about football, so that's fun! i'm so sorry it was so slow coming out, i hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: brief, non-graphic smut scene, but also: kissing (so much kissing), dirty talk, marking, nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls)

The common room was oddly quiet. Normally, you’d hear people shuffling around and chattering in the halls, their laughter echoing off the dull grey tiles. But right now, silence. With the dingy wood and fluorescent lighting, it felt like a ghost town. It wouldn’t have bothered you on any ordinary day. Except today was your first meeting with the new residents of your dorm as their RA. And it was five minutes to eight and they were nowhere to be found.

You honestly couldn’t understand why anyone hadn’t shown up yet. The bulletin board had been decked out in the colours of your school football team, the Stray Kids, and you’d even promised snacks! In fact, a lot of the people you’d run into in the halls had been excited to come - or maybe they just felt pressured into it by your overeagerness. Now, looking at the different spreads of cookies and brownies you’d baked with the help of your roommate Felix, your heart sinks. Speaking of Felix, where was he?

You’d been looking forward to the start of the school year all summer, so excited to finally embrace this job and your new responsibilities. But even more than that, you were so excited to make a handful of new friends heading into your senior year. Your entire college career had been consumed by studying and getting involved in a million different clubs, and although you hung out with Felix, and a few others, you felt like you’d been lacking in the experiences that made college… well college. And what better way to get access to college experiences than to be left to look after a rowdy group of students?

You hear footsteps thudding down the hallway, and heavy breathing, and all of a sudden, Felix’s freckled face comes into view. You shoot him an angry glare, before softening when you realize he’s not alone. Three other boys walk in after him.

“____, this is Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin. They’re down the hall from us.”

“Welcome you guys!” you set aside your anger, putting on your best smile for them. The three of them greet you happily, not even lasting five seconds before descending on the snacks, and you giggle at the way Jisung’s cheeks puff out as he stuffs chocolate chip cookies into his mouth. 

Soon enough, more people shuffle in, until the common room is filled to the brim with residents, and you let out a sigh of relief. Maybe they didn’t hate you after all. Before, long, everyone is settled in, and you waste no time, heart pattering as you launch into an explanation of the rules and expectations for the year.

As expected, a handful of people are nodding off, while others have their eyes glued to their phones. However, Seungmin, Jisung, and Jeongin are hanging off your every word attentively, smiling after every phrase, and despite it being corny, you can’t help but find them endearing. You’d have to make a mental note to visit their room later and get to know them.

While you continue on, not wanting to keep everyone too long, you notice a couple of guys sneak in the back, twenty minutes late, and immediately your smile drops. The blue jerseys tell you immediately that they’re the players from Stray Kids. A few heads turn when they walk in, and suddenly, there’s a hum in the air, the residents thrumming with excitement at the sighting of campus celebrities. Suddenly, all the attention is off you and on them.

Felix shoots you a look of apology, and you huff, watching the meeting go down in flames. You don’t know how many minutes pass before the crowd dies down, people spilling out one by one, until only the four players and Felix are left. 

Putting on your fakest sweet smile, you stomp up to them, ready to give them a piece of your mind, when you bump into a solid chest, strong arms wrapping around you to steady you.

“Whoa there, you good?” A deep voice booms out, and you look up to see Chan, the captain of the team, looking down at you with a smirk.

“I—,” you begin, nostrils flaring in anger, but you’re interrupted once again by Chan.

“Sorry for crashing your little party, practice ran late, you know how it is.”

His eyes are alight with a glimmer as he says it, taking you in.

“I’d appreciate if next time, you could let me know, so I can plan ahead,” you grit out through your teeth, watching another one of the guys, one with arm muscles so huge he could probably rip a tree in half, descend on the cookies you’d laid out.

“That’s Changbin,” Chan chuckles. “And over there is Hyunjin.”

You look to the door, where another tall, lanky player is leaning against the frame, a look of casual disinterest on his face. He gives you a nod, and you scoff under your breath, hoping he doesn’t hear you.

“And this is Minho, our other roommate.”

You freeze on the last introduction, finally taking in the final figure in the room. He’s just as paralyzed as you are, unable to move, lips parted in shock. Feeling like you’ve been struck by lightning, you feel your throat tighten, unable to look up. The ground beneath you feels like it’s about to give way, and you’re suddenly aware that Felix is no longer in the room, mentally cursing him out in your head for leaving you alone right now.

“Hey,” Minho finally manages to get a word out, and your eyes snap up to his, watching the way he shoots an easy smile in your direction.

You hate the way your heart reacts to that smile because you’d promise yourself once already you’d never let it get to you again. All of a sudden, a distinct memory from the summer comes rushing back to you, one you’d tried so hard to bury in the back of your mind. 

Twinkling fairy lights, red solo cups on the table out back, and Usher blasting from the speakers. The one house party you’d snuck out to that summer with your best friend, Ryujin. The one where you’d met him.

Those same lips had smirked at you from across the room, dark and serious eyes inviting you to come over and take a chance. And you had. Lips crashing onto his, Minho’s kisses swallowing your moans. The music from the party gradually fades as he leads you upstairs, the soft click of the door locking behind you before he pushes you onto the bed. The cute outfit you’d chosen to wear that night was discarded carelessly to the side, Minho’s hands tracing circles across your skin, his lips latching desperately onto your neck, sucking blooms across your skin. Minho is on his knees, your legs thrown over his shoulders, eyes completely blown with lust, looking like he wants to devour you. Watching the dim light hit the lean lines of his body as he strips, his soft groan when he pushes into you, digging your heels into his back.

Minho’s low voice when tells you how pretty you sound, how good you are for him before you’re exploding, falling apart at the seams. 

And then, regret. Slipping out before dawn could come around, watching Minho snooze peacefully, unaware that he’d wake up to an empty bed, unaware that thoughts of that night with him would continue to haunt you the entire summer. 

The boys’ boisterous laughter breaks you out of your daze, and you watch Chan and Changbin wave to you before grabbing a handful of snacks and slipping out the door. Hyunjin isn’t far behind, eyeing your shocked face with a curious expression.

Minho lingers for a moment, studying you with the same hypnotic gaze. You’re painfully aware that you haven’t been able to get a single word out, but his stoic face twists into a salacious grin. He trails after his roommates, but not before pausing and shooting you a wink.

“Well damn, this year just got a whole lot more exciting.”

Kim Namjoon was extremely good at his job – or so he thought. As the grad advisor for the resident assistant program at the university, he’d painstakingly read through hundreds of applications, combing through many impressive resumés in search of the best of the best. And he thought he’d found it in you. Which is why the situation he found himself in was completely and utterly baffling to him.

“It’s literally the first week of the school year, and you’re telling me you already want to quit?!”

You fidget in your seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but directly at Namjoon, knowing that if you caught his gaze, you’d be finished. Over.

“Are those pressed resin flowers?” you gesture over to the wall, hoping you can distract him.

“____.”

“W-well, it’s not exactly like that, it’s just…”

“I fail to understand what could be so horrible about your current group of residents that you’d give up free room and board,” Namjoon quips, before pausing. “I mean — great responsibility as well.”

You want to scream. How were you supposed to tell your boss that the reason you wanted to quit the job you’d worked so hard for is that, in one drunken night, you’d slept with one of your residents and now didn’t have the gall to face him for an entire year?

Your cheeks burn, thinking of Minho’s smirk, the one that had you screaming into your room. In the few days since the meeting, you’d managed to successfully avoid him, and his roommates, making a mad dash for your room straight after class. Oh well, you could always branch out and live your best college life next year. After the football players graduated. 

Namjoon could put you anywhere, even banish you to the hell of a single room in that maybe-haunted residence hall on the edge of campus. The one where there was an alleged ghost wandering around? Yeah, you’d take it. Anywhere away from Lee Minho.

“I chose you for this job for a reason, ___, because I saw great potential in you,” Namjoon continues with a heavy sigh. “I’m confident that whatever you’re anxious about, it’ll resolve itself. Now, you should head out. From the schedule, I saw you have a room meeting scheduled.”

And with that, you’re ushered out of Namjoon’s cosy office, left with more questions than you started with. Huffing as you sling your bag over your shoulders, you make the trek across campus back to the dorm, trying to muster a weak smile for the meeting you had coming up. 

Only for that smile to disappear completely when you check your calendar, seeing exactly who’d signed up for the slot.

Room 103. The football players’ room. Minho’s room. Could your luck be any worse?

Apparently, the answer to that was yes, because just as you lifted your fist to knock, the door opened, leaving you face-to-face with a smirking Minho.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” he drawls, the smirk fading when he sees you look past him at the wall, shuffling your feet. 

“Come in,” his voice softens, stepping aside to let you through. For a moment, he pauses behind you, and you can feel his breath fan the back of your neck.

“Listen, I just wanted to, uh–” he’s interrupted by a loud holler, one that wreaks havoc on your eardrums.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the girl-next-door!” Changbin comes into view, slinging an arm around Minho’s shoulder, before the other man scowls, brushing him off.

“Guys,” Chan’s captain voice has their heads turning, “I know you’ve all got a boner for the pretty RA, but she’s here doing her job.”

You could have sworn you saw Minho go pale.

Changbin snickers, but abides, plopping onto the couch, dragging Minho with him. That made three of them. But where was…

“Hyunjin,” the tall boy appears out of nowhere, his sharp eyes taking in your presence. For a moment, you wonder if he knows about you and Minho, but you shove the ridiculous thought from your brain. They were just guys, and you were just doing business as usual. Nothing to worry about.

“So guys,” you manage to get out. “I’m just here to talk to you about your expectations for each other this year as roommates.”

“Expectations?” Changbin throws up an eyebrow. “Yeah, like some ground rules you want to establish for the room,” you clarify. “As roommates.”

“We’ve been living together for three years at this point,” Hyunjin gives you a pointed stare. “I’m sure we have it down.”

You chew mindlessly at your lower lip, realizing that you aren’t getting anywhere with them. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Minho draped over the side of the couch, one leg dangling off onto the floor.

“Well,” the sudden addition of his voice shocks you, a small smile lighting up his face when catches you looking at him, “We obviously need to follow bro code.”

“Bro code?” You raise an eyebrow. You knew what it was, but that didn’t make you any less confused. 

There’s a sharp ow! followed by Hyunjin shuffling in the corner. Minho is gingerly nursing his arm, his eyes narrowing at his teammate.

“Pretty sure one of the rules of bro code is to never lie to your bros,” Hyunjin quips, casting a glance between you and Minho.

“Not lying! Okay! Okay, we can work with that —,” you straighten up, a grin on your face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

“Especially not about girls you’ve slept with,” Changbin adds with a smug expression. 

Minho’s face immediately twists into a pained expression, and for a moment, everything is silent. You wonder if this is it, the moment where everything finally blows up in your face and the truth about what went over the summer is revealed.

“I’m so sorry, ____,” Chan gives you an apologetic look, standing up to usher you towards the door. “I’ll have a chat with them, and we’ll draw up a list of rules and send it your way by the end of the week!”

Everything happens so quickly, Chan’s hand on your back, the brief flash of Minho’s concerned eyes looking at you before the door closes, slamming shut.

The rain patters against the window, making the fluorescent lighting of the common look even more bleak and grey than usual. You let out a heavy sigh. The dorm meeting should have been enough of a sign to you that very few people would be interested in the events you held this year. Now, you were alone, surrounded by far too many tubs of ice cream, and Felix was in class. 

Deciding to wallow in your sorrow, you pop open one of the tubs, scraping at the frozen top with a spoon, the sweet ice cream melting on your tongue.

“I told you, Jeongin, she just bought the ice cream to eat herself,” a voice at the door startles you, and you look over to see Seungmin beaming at you through the door. And he’s not alone. Jisung and Jeongin trail in after him, and your heart swells in relief at their presence.

“I thought no one would come.”

“And miss ice cream? Please, they’re either stupid or even more stupid for turning down free food,” Jisung chuckles, sliding up a few chairs next to you.

The three boys settle in, wasting no time digging into the ice cream, happily chatting about their days to you. Something about their presence makes the unbelievably rainy weather seem not so bad. You learn that Jisung and Seungmin are in the year below you, studying math together, and Jeongin, the poor freshman, was their random roommate.

“You guys are worse than the football players,” you chuckle when they explain their tactics of how they get Jeongin to run errands for them across campus.

“I think it’s cool how we have the players living here with us!” Jeongin’s eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think they’ll invite us to one of their parties?”

“We’re losers, Jeongin, in case you haven’t noticed,” Seungmin jokes, but his face is strained. 

“That’s not true, you’re currently my favourite people in the dorm,” you respond, watching Seungmin relax, and Jisung’s cheeks flush. “And those parties are lame anyway.”

So lame. Lame enough for you to sleep with one of those aforementioned players. 

You think back to the summer, memories flooding you. In your defense, you hadn’t even known Minho was a player. It was just a random party, full of random people neither you or Ryujin had known. And he’d been there, leaning against the wall, taking it all in quietly.

If you’d had any idea Lee Minho was one of those ever-loving frat boys on the football team, you might not have given him a second look. But then he’d smiled at you - a small one, soft but also teasing, and that was all it had taken for you to drift over, Ryujin smirking behind you.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks went down, the two of you managing to talk about nothing yet somehow also everything at once.

“You see,” Minho’s low voice rumbled in your ear, leaning in closer. You can smell the warm spice of his cologne, and it makes you even dizzier than the beer in your hand. “Those two definitely look like they’ve got some shit to sort through.”

“They’ll ignore it though,” you counter, watching Minho’s eyebrows raise. “Probably go upstairs and fuck instead.”

Minho’s jaw hangs open, and it takes a moment to process what you’d just said out loud – and how much of your own intrusive thoughts were contained within the simple statement. Looking over, his eyes have gone impossibly dark, their sole focus on you.

“Maybe we should follow them? Just to confirm.”

Those same dark eyes are now filled with a flicker, one that matches the flames building inside your chest.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the door to the common room swinging open, bringing you face to face with a flustered and panting Minho. His hair is windswept, and there’s a deep flush on the back of his neck. Raindrops plop, plop, plop onto the carpet as they drip from his clothes.

“Did I miss it? I came as quick as I could after class.”

His voice is hoarse and gravelly like he’s struggling to catch his breath after running for too long. 

“Miss what..?” You feel like the air has been knocked out of your lungs at his sudden appearance, completely missing the way Jisung, Seungmin, and Jeongin begin to shuffle behind you, whispering amongst themselves.

“You were hosting something? I tried to convince the other guys to come along.”

Your chest tightens at his admission. He paid attention to those egregiously long newsletters you spent hours making and mailing out to the floor? It makes you feel dizzy inside, a thousand tiny butterflies fluttering inside your chest. 

“Uhm, yeah of course! Help yourself, you know I just remembered I have something like really, really important to take care of for one of my classes,” the words tumble out in a rush, your cheeks burning at lie, but you honestly weren’t expecting to come face to face with Minho so many times in a matter days. 

“Hey Jisung, do you mind cleaning up after you guys are done? Please.” You shoot the other boy a desperate look, and his eyes go round, looking in between you and Minho, who remains at the threshold. He gives you a subtle nod, and you take it as your chance to escape, hastily slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

You feel Minho’s eyes on you while you brush past him and out the door, wondering why you’re the one shivering when he’d been caught in the rain.

. . . 

“Jisung, is it?” Minho sees the boy jump at the sound of his voice, his chair nearly toppling over from the shock. He looks in between a flustered Jisung, to the other two guys, who are equally surprised, their mouths hanging open.

It’s times like these where Minho remembers he’s not just any normal guy. Being a player for the Stray Kids came with its own headaches. He’d never gotten used to the stares. Or people becoming tongue-tied around him.

But you hadn’t been like that, he recalls. Talking to you had been easier than making a catch, the way your eyes lit up underneath the dim lights of the party and how your bubbly laugh remained burned in his memory for the entire summer. 

Minho wants to laugh at the thought of him hung up over some girl he’d fucked one time, but nothing could have matched the cold feeling that washed over him the moment he’d woken up to find you gone, the bed empty. And he found himself actually missing it - not the sex, but everything else. The laughing, the people watching, the inside jokes. 

Damn it, he was turning soft for you.

He stalks over to Jisung and his friends, plopping into the chair across of them. The three of them remain frozen in place, stiff as a board, and Minho lets out a loud groan.

“What do you want?” He raises an eyebrow, a smirk pulling at his lips when he sees the taller one cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to look intimidating.

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you want like, tickets to the game, fake IDs, weed? I can hook you up.”

“F-frat parties,” the younger one elbows him, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him we want in on the parties.”

“The bigger question is, what do you want? I mean, why are you even talking to us?” “Can’t a dude just be nice to other dudes?” Minho grins, but the tall one is unwavering. He looks over to the one whose name he actually knew, Jisung, and judging by the way his eyes are still wide as saucers, and the manga he’s clutching to his chest, Minho knows he’s found a target who’ll fold.

“Is that Spy x Family? I love that one.”

“Y-you do?” 

“Yeah, I actually have all the volumes in my room? You could always come by if you wanted to borrow one.”

“I could?”

“Hmmm, only if I get to ask for your help with something.” “Anything!” the youngest one pipes up again, choking when the tall one hits him in the back. “We’ll do anything.”

And suddenly, Minho sees his in – these three dorks. Who despite knowing you for even less time than he has, have somehow managed to win over your heart. And he’d be next. 

“Well, let’s start with introductions first of all…”

The 8am walk to your psychology class was one of your favourite parts of your schedule this semester. Campus was just waking up, birds were chirping, and you had time off to just think before getting swallowed by a sea of schoolwork and RA responsibilities. Except lately, your thoughts had been running wild - Minho in every corner, his tired, rain-soaked figure the other day making him look like a wet cat. A very cute wet cat.

You didn’t want to go down the rabbit hole of what it meant for him to show up like that – you didn’t want it to mean anything at all. The simple fact was that guys like Minho, and the rest of his teammates, barely ever gave a damn about anything that wasn’t pratice or their loud ragers. But he’d actually made an effort. 

Namjoon will be so happy I’m getting the team involved in dorm life, you stupidly rationalize the warm, fizzy feeling in your chest. I’ll have something to be proud of.

Trudging up the hill that takes you from the dorms to the heart of campus, you look through the cover of trees, the faint rays of sun peeking through them. In the crisp morning air, they look beautiful, and you sigh happily to yourself. You could romanticize this morning walk, even if your actual romantic life was in shambles.

You close your eyes for a bit, having committed the path to memory, and walk, walk, walk until suddenly — you’re colliding into a hard object, falling backwards through space. Before you can feel the impact of the ground, an arm is reaching out to steady you. A lean, muscular arm, filled with veins. Looking up through the sunlight, you see Minho’s face looking down at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a soft smile on his lips. “Why were you walking with your eyes closed?”

“Crap, you weren’t supposed to see that,” you turn away in shame. Were you going to be doomed to a whole school year of embarrassing yourself in front of him? 

“Hey, I’m not judging,” he holds up his phone, and you can’t help but laugh. A cat video is playing on the screen. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“Thanks for catching me.”

“It’s kind of what I do,” he chuckles, another reminder of who he is. And who you are.

“Oh yeah.”

You don’t remember when you started moving again, but somehow, he’s right alongside you, facing backwards yet still matching you stride for stride. Looking around, you breathe in relief when you spot no one else around – being seen with Minho would definitely have people talking, and you weren’t sure if you could handle that right now.

“Can we talk about what happened over the summer?”

Minho’s voice is tinged with something you can’t pinpoint, taking on a weird sort of lilt. Could he possibly be nervous? Then again, what reason would he have to be nervous? He wasn’t the one with an entire reputation on the line right now.

“There isn’t that much to say, Minho. It shouldn’t have happened. I should have known better.”

Minho narrows his eyes at your statement, clearly taken aback.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you feel guilty because we live on the same floor now. There’s no way you could have known! I’m not holding it against you. Let me make it up to you – maybe we can have another shot, hopefully more sober this time.”

In your head, you know he’s right, and that you’re being completely irrational. But wouldn’t starting something now also be irrational, and falling into that very same trap you’d worked so hard to avoid.

“Look Minho, I’m really grateful that you forgive me. I know it was an asshole move, just disappearing like that. But whatever this is, I can’t do it right now. I promise if we run into each other I’m not gonna sprint off in the other direction, but I can’t date you. I can’t date anyone right now.”

You watch the way his shoulders completely deflate, rustling his backpack over his shoulder. More and more students have begun to slip out of their dorms, joining you on the main campus quad, and you know the conversation is over. For now. 

“Hey,” you whisper softly, watching Minho jump slightly at the sound of your voice. “Isn’t your econ class the other way?”

“Nah,” Minho stutters, and you watch his cheeks tinge red. “I dropped it. I’m taking a new one - fermentation sciences.”

“Fermentation sciences?”

“Yeah, you know in this economy, I wanted to learn how to brew my own alcohol,” he looks wistfully over at the science building. “I should probably get going.”

You watch him retreat wondering why you felt such a crushing wave of sadness when you’d been the one to shut it down in the first place.

. . .

Fuck! He was late. Minho knew he should have spent more time on cardio this summer, his heart pounding in his chest as he ran the other way across campus to the business building.

While part of him was relieved by your assurance that you harboured no bad feelings toward him after everything that him, another part of him was deeply unsettled. For some reason, he couldn’t let it end like this, the two of you just being people who resorted to acknowledging each other with a wave across campus.

The thought bothers Minho all through his econ class, and through football practice, Changbin’s obnoxious chuckle echoing in his ear.

“Fermentation Sciences? Really, dude?”

“Stop laughing, punk,” Minho grumbles. “It’s not like you could have come up with anything better.”

For all they knew, Minho was shamelessly flirting with the girl next door, and failing miserably. They didn’t know any of the history between you two - and Minho wanted to keep it that way, or else he’d never hear the end of it from his roommates.

Changbin grunts, his pass landing a little harder than usual. Minho makes the catch, the air wooshing out of his lungs.

“Lino,” Chan’s stern captain voice echoes from behind him. “It’s our final year. Are you really sure you won’t get distracted by this?”

Minho sighs. He knew that this final season hinged on him having his head on straight - if not for his sake, for his teammates’. While he and Hyunjin had jobs waiting for them after graduation, Chan and Changbin were trying to make a career out of football. 

“Yeah dude, it’s nothing I promise.”

Defeat sinks into his bones, realizing that maybe you were right. Perhaps there wasn’t time to be distracted by anything, or anyone this year. Yet, as he strips off his jersey and slumps onto the players’ bench, he mellows in the one part of your statement that had given him a fraction of hope.

You hadn’t said “never”, just “not right now.”

“Remind me why we’re here again?” Hyunjin groans, chewing the tip of his pen. In the corner, a group of students fall into hushed whispers at the sight of Stray Kids’ running back and tight end, hunched over pieces of paper. 

“Stop acting like you didn’t take an entire class on 18th century poetry last year and help me figure out what rhymes with perfect,” Minho shoves the end of the pen into his arm.

“Imperfect,” Hyunjin counters. “What the hell are you doing anyway? I thought we were supposed to be colouring for stress relief.”

“None of your goddamn business, Hwang,” Minho shuffles his paper towards himself, scribbling down the word, only to cross it out ten seconds later.

“Are you, are you writing a poem?” Hyunjin’s eyes go wide at the various words scribbled on Minho’s sheet. Beautiful, delicate, exquisite, perfect. A faint smirk tugs at his lips. 

Minho himself never thought he’d see the day where he put pen to paper in hopes of wooing someone, but it seems life had other plans. Because ever since you’d basically told him there was no chance of anything happening between you, it had made him unable to keep thoughts of you out of his mind.

He wondered sometimes if he was chasing his own ego, going after you just because you weren’t interested in him. But as he dwells on it more, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this determined to win someone over. 

“I have questions, many of them,” Hyunjin starts. “But I’ll start with one? Is this about–”

He flicks his head towards the front of the room, where you’re hard at work on your own drawing. Your sweater looks beyond soft and cosy, bringing out the colour of your eyes, and Minho feels a weird pang inside his chest when he hears you giggle; Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin right next to you.

Those fucking punks. They were supposed to be helping him, and instead they were crowding around you? He’d probably have to cave and finally entice Jeongin with an exclusive invite to a frat party if he ever wanted things to work in his favour. 

“God, I having to fucking text Changbin about this,” Hyunjin drawls, only to yelp when his phone is swiped out of his hands.

“Send that text and you’ll wish I never looked in your direction, Hwang.”

“My question is when?” Hyunjin looks between you and Minho, lines of confusion marring his face, until realization dawns on him.

“Holy fuck? She’s the one? From this summer? I knew it!”

Minho feels like sinking into his chair and rueing the day he ever ran into Hyunjin on the way to try-outs, but he musters a weak nod.

“___? RA ____?”

“Will you quit asking questions?” Minho continues to scribble, growing frustrated when his pen begins to run out of ink, the four pages of ideas he’d come up with staring him dead in the face.

“Well you’re never gonna win her over if you keep comparing her lips to cherry cough medicine.”

“What would you suggest dumbass?”

“Maybe fucking cherries instead?” Hyunjin grabs the paper from him, shaking his head in exasperation. “Next time you want to pull this shit for a girl, please come to me first.”

“Hoping there won’t be a next time,” Minho looks over at you with a heavy sigh, watching the way Seungmin leans in close to point out something on his page to you.

“Just you watch and wait,” Hyunjin grabs the pen from him, and gets to work.

. . .

“Let me know if you’ll think about it,” Seungmin waves to you from across the room, clearing out with Jisung and Jeongin in tow, and you happily go back to colouring the bunny you’d started. Funny enough, the stress of the last few weeks had melted away, you and Felix easing back into your routine of daily dinners together in the dining hall. Along with new friends - the three younger boys inviting you over to their dorm for movies and video games.

A cough interrupts your thoughts, and you look up to see Minho stop in front of your table, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Guilt fills your chest when you realize you hadn’t even said hi to him, despite knowing he’d come with Hyunjin in tow the moment the previously quiet room had erupted into a faint din. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, hoping it’ll put him (and you) at ease. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“No problem, uh, thanks for hosting,” Minho scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the piece of paper crumpled into his other fist.

“Did you have fun?”

“Fun? Oh yeah! It was super fun! I felt really calm,” the words spill out of Minho’s mouth awkwardly, and he’s begun to bounce on the soles of his feet.

“Are you sure it was calming? You can give me honest feedback you know. I won’t be offended.”

“Oh yeah, you know, I actually just remembered I have to go, but I wrote something down on this paper and it’s for you!” Minho launches the piece of paper at your desk before scurrying out of the room. Craning your neck, you see him run to Hyunjin in the hall, who claps him on the back.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you unfurl the paper, eyes widening when you see the exact “feedback” Minho had left. 

It takes everything within you not to laugh - the rhyme scheme is completely off, there are random flowery words that definitely look like they were pulled from the dictionary app, and the poem cuts off abruptly with a scribble. Yet somehow your heart is warm at the thought that Minho had sat there for an hour putting this together. For you.

Perhaps you’d underestimated Lee Minho after all.

“I wonder whose idea it was to load a bunch of college-age kids dressed in stiff-ass clothes onto a bus that’s going who knows where, and to not even have alcohol to compensate” you mutter, smoothing over the skirt of your dress, the chilly winter air sending goosebumps down our spine.

“Don’t let the feds hear you say that, miss RA, but to answer your question, probably some prick at Oxford or something,” Seungmin appears by your side, offering up his jacket. You politely decline, grateful that he offered but also that he doesn’t press. Accepting his jacket would be too much of a romantic gesture for… whatever this was. 

“Just two friends hanging out,” Seungmin had reassured you when he’d asked you the other week… the same week you’d received the poem from Minho. The same one that has your heart doing backflips when you even think about it. The same one that’s currently smushed between the pages of your planner, bringing a smile to your face every time you open it.

You shake your head… trying to dispel thoughts of Minho from your mind. Seugmin was your date tonight. He deserved to have your attention. You deserved to not turn it into a miserable time for both of you because you couldn’t sort out anything in your life.

The bus ride helps take your mind off him, Seungmin happily chattering to you about how his year is going so far, and you stave off the chill all the way until the two of you get inside.

Unfortunately, that’s where it all goes downhill. Because the music is too loud, and there are too many bodies crowded on the floor, and you remember that going as dates involves, well actually acting like dates.

A few of Seungmin’s friends from the photography club find him in no time, suddenly swooping the two of you into the middle of the floor, and you’re led down a well-meaning, but incessant line of questioning. Seungmin shoots you an apologetic smile, happy to take the brunt of it for most of you, but it leaves an uncomfortable feeling in your chest nonetheless. Seungmin doesn’t say anything when you drift away quietly, leaving him with his buddies, and find yourself flitting at the fringe of the crowd. An eerie feeling crosses you, one that reminds you of the last time you were in this situation. Only this time the outcome wouldn’t be the same, because Minho wasn’t here. 

Mere months ago, you would have been fawning over the experience of finally attending a formal with a date, feeling like you were coming closer and closer to making the memories you craved. But you realized now that those had been empty hopes. Because memories weren’t about the experiences, but the people you shared them with. And you couldn’t deny what you and Minho had shared.

You don’t even realize you’ve stumbled outside until you’re plopping down onto a bench, hugging your knees to your chest, while fresh tears coat your eyelashes. A soft pair of footsteps echo behind you, and you turn to see Seungmin next to you, taking a seat.

“Y-you should go back inside,” you stutter, even more guilt settling in. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole and ruining your night.”

“Hey, you’re not an asshole. And I meant what I said, I didn’t expect anything from you, just two friends hanging out. But now you’re crying.”

Silence falls between you, and you think about how lucky you are to have a friend like Suengmin. Him, and Felix, and Jisung, and Jeongin. How much they care for you.

“You know,” Seungmin interrupts. “He’s not a bad guy. Lee.”

You whip your head around at Seungmin, not expecting him, of all people, to bring up Minho at a time like this. How did he even know him?

“Oh shush,” Seungmin sees the perplexed look on your face. “He comes over sometimes to watch anime. He’s pretty cool. He even said Jeongin might have a shot at trying out for the team next year.”

“What is my life?” you groan out loud. 

“I’m just saying, maybe you’re doing too much, trying to fight whatever it is you feel. Maybe he could be worth it. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I think what I need to do is catch the early bus back to campus,” you grumble, before softening. “You’ll be okay without me?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t miss me too much,” Seungmin grins. “Just sleep on it.”

“In your dreams, Kim.”

You’re bounding off the bus faster than the driver can open the door, silently cursing yourself for not bringing a jacket, or at least stealing Seungmin’s. The straps of the way-too-high heels you’d chosen dig into your feet, sure to blister and leave you groaning the next morning, but to be fair, the headache had started long before you’d left your dorm room tonight.

It had started the moment Lee Minho had strolled through the door at that very first meeting, and secured a permanent spot dwelling inside your mind. And now he was befriending everyone you were friends with? You shiver at the potential implications of what Seungmin had revealed at the formal, surprised to find feelings lingering other than sheer annoyance. 

The wind nipping at your heels, you set off down the campus path, empty save for a few poor souls leaving the library after a study session, until you’re at the campus green, the large fountain that lights up the way to your dorm in plain sight. You feel relief overtake you at the sight, grateful that you could soon unwind and collapse onto your bed, given you had thinking to do. Lots of thinking. 

You’re almost across, the gurgling of the fountain audible in the distance, when a shadow emerges from the path to your right. A lone, slim figure in a blue letterman jacket, a large “S” emblazoned on the front. You think nothing of it until you see the accompanying “25 Lee” on the back, and suddenly you freeze. Only he does too, at the exact same time. 

You wonder if it’s too late to duck behind a bush, hiding under the cover of darkness, until you remember that near the fountain is the most well-lit area within a few hundred yards, the rest of the winding path completely blacked out. And Minho is already walking in your direction, even though you both know the way to the dorm is behind him.

He’s clad in sweatpants, his hair damp with sweat, and you wonder why he’s not freezing at this hour. But he’s probably looking at you and wondering the same thing.

“___, hey,” he shouts out, the grin on his face growing when he actually looks at you, his jaw hanging open. “Wow, uh, you look good. Fancy event?”

“Oh yeah a date. I mean a formal. I mean I went to a formal. As a date. With Seungmin.”

Immediately, the grin fades, and Minho’s eyes grow impossibly dark. There’s a strange fluttering in your chest, and you’re overcome with the urge to clarify that it wasn’t a real date, that it didn’t mean anything, but nothing comes out, your throat impossibly dry. 

“Oh yeah, he mentioned something about that.”

“Yeah. I guess even RAs need to let loose once in a bit.”

“Did you? Let loose?” Minho raises an eyebrow, and you know that he knows that it’s too early to be wandering around campus, given most buses don’t come back until after midnight. 

“You caught me.”

“I told you, I’m good at that.”

Minho gestures to a bench, right in front of the fountain. You know you should say no, that you should run to the safety of your dorm. Because somehow, when you’re around Minho, the control you have comes crashing down. You feel reckless and effervescent, and you wonder if being drunk when you met him was to blame. 

When you take the seat next to him, you watch him smirk, and that’s when you realize the bench he’d picked out was the tiniest one, meaning you had no choice but to be pressed up right against him, feeling the warmth that emanates from him. You shiver again, hoping the cold can cover for you. 

“You cold?” Minho’s voice is a low rumble, moving to slip his jacket off his shoulders.

“No, no I’m fine—”

He’s throwing it around you before you can finish protesting, his warm sandalwood and cedar fragrance enveloping you, and you burrow into it. Beside you, you can feel Minho’s faint breath fan against your neck, and you flush, turning away to look above you.

“It’s pretty out tonight, isn’t it?” You point above you. “You can see the stars.”

“Yeah, it is,” Minho’s voice is a heavy sigh, and you turn to find he’s not looking above at all. His dark eyes bore right into yours, a whole universe of emotion trapped within their depths, and you feel the fluttering in your chest begin again. 

His warm hand skims softly against your cheek, and you stop it with your own, pushing him away.

“Minho… what’s happening? What is this? Because if this is some kind of ego trip, or some sick joke with your teammates…”

“Can’t you see, damn it?” Minho’s expression turns dark, shadows dancing on his face. “I like you, ___. Ever since you walked out of that room this summer, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I keep running it over and over in my head, wondering what I could have done to fuck this up so badly, and how I can make it up to you every day.”

His voice is full of desperation, and you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer emotion captured in his rasp.

“Why?” Your voice is barely audible. “Why me?”

“I know we barely know each other, but everything I see about you, I like. The way you laugh, the quirky sweaters you wear, the way you take care of others. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.”

Your head spins at his confession, at his earnestness, but while your heart is screaming at you to give in, your head can’t take the leap, holding you back from tumbling over the edge.

“Minho, I can’t. My job—” you watch the way his shoulders sag, knowing that you’re right. “I don’t want you to keep waiting for something that I may never be able to give you.”

“Friends then?” He squares his shoulders, his voice shaky, and you turn away, not wanting him to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

“Okay,” your voice is just as wobbly. Maybe it was better this way, knowing the distance would inevitably form when it was Minho’s turn to graduate next semester. This way things wouldn’t end badly - they’d just end when it was time.

“Well,” Minho stands up, offering you an arm. “As your friend, I can’t let you end what was supposed to be a fun night on a shitty note.”

He grabs your arms, slipping them into the jacket, before his hand is slipping in yours, the two of you walking up to the fountain. You know friends don’t hold hands, but you say nothing, the two of you staring at the clear water, coins glinting in its depths. 

“Make a wish,” he whispers. You look up, just in time to see a star shoot across the night sky, and close your eyes, wishing for everything to work itself out.

“And now we jump.”

“We what?!—” you whip your head around, but it’s too late, Minho is pulling you into the fountain with him, the cold water chilling you to the bone. Shivering, you stand up, cheeks burning and your soaked dress clinging to your body, watching Minho shake his wet hair from his eyes.

“You. Are. Crazy,” you huff out, laughter bubbling in your throat, and his eyes are twinkling, before he joins in, the two of you laughing until you’re wheezing. 

“You like it though,” he steps closer, his eyes raking over your body, heavy-lidded with desire. He leans over, almost in slow motion, your heart beating so wildly you almost forget how to breathe. You feel his lips ghost against yours, and for a moment everything is impossibly still—until laughter breaks through the silence, the voices of other students chattering behind you. 

Minho is pulling away, his eyes flickering towards the voices, and you hadn’t realized you were clutching his wet shirt. You peel your soaked bodies away from one another, Minho offering you his hand to help you out of the fountain, when all of a sudden the voices soften, indicating that the students were heading in the other direction. 

The walk back to the dorms is full of silence, both you and Minho trying to wrap your heads around what had happened in the fountain. It isn’t until he walks you to your door, the tormented look in his dark eyes the last thing you see before it closes behind you, that you realize you’d forgotten to give him back his jacket. 

“Morning Lino,” Hyunjin pads out of his and Minho’s shared room, rubbing at his eyes. Minho grunts in response, turning his attention back to the eggs at the stove.

“You know some kid named Yang?” Hyunjin asks through a mouthful of cereal. “Came up to me the other day and said he couldn’t wait to sit in on our practice.”

Minho recalls his conversation with the eager freshman, who was bouncing up and down at the thought of being considered for the football team next year. Of course, what Jeongin didn’t know was that his happiness wasn’t even the cherry on top. It was seeing the dazzling smile on your face when the kid ran up to you to tell you all about it.

You’d looked over, seeing Minho lingering at the end of the hallway, and raised an eyebrow, to which he’d nodded, before promptly disappearing. This whole friendship thing was harder than he’d counted on. But he’d try his damn best. 

…

An hour later, he’s watching Jeongin run lines with Changbin, pausing every few minutes to work on some throws. A small smile forms on his face - Jeongin was a nice kid. And he would have never met him if it wasn’t for you. Minho thinks back to how different life would have been if he hadn’t run into you this summer. 

Even though he can’t put his finger on it, Minho feels like something’s changed. Before you, he’d never cared enough about anything to want to make an effort. Football was just something he did, relationships were something he never bothered with. Class was just class. But after meeting you, Minho wanted to be someone who was enough. Someone you could be proud of — to call a friend and maybe something more one day.

He feels the bench thud next to him, Hyunjin plopping down beside him. Hyunjin looks back and forth between him and Jeongin, realization glimmering in his eyes.

“He’s friends with her, right? Jeongin. That’s why you gave him a chance. You’re so fucking whipped.”

“If you’re gonna try to lecture me right now, please don’t,” Minho grumbles, knowing that behind Hyunjin’s sarcasm, he’s always willing to chew someone out when they’re doing something stupid. Like Minho is doing right now with you.

“That’s Chan’s job, not mine. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“It’s weird,” Minho blurts out, his own words surprising him. He thought he would have dropped the subject. 

But he finds himself opening up about you, the way he doesn’t know why, but you just make him feel, and how he doesn’t know what to do about it. The way you hold yourself back, and he doesn’t know how to move forward, because he’d be an asshole for overstepping the boundaries you’ve so abundantly made clear. How something with you was better than nothing at all.

And Hyunjin listens, gratefully, but Minho sees how his eyes dart over to Chan and Changbin and Jeongin. The season was still young. If he wasn’t careful, things could implode, not just for the team, but for you. 

He would have to find a way to figure this out. Or else, he could lose you for good.

You hadn’t meant for it all to come spilling out. One minute, you and Minho were cool, agreeing to be friends. The next, his mouth was nearly on yours, and you were confused.

And now, you’re telling everything to Felix in the middle of breakfast. It might be the lack of coffee, or the fact that he’s just naturally baby-faced but Felix is wide-eyed, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open as you recall everything, from summer to now. 

When you’re finished, he crosses his arms, his eyebrows furrowing and your stomach drops. Well. You’d managed to make your roommate, also known as one of the nicest people in the world, upset with you.

“Listen, Lix, it’s not as bad as it seems,” you try to reassure him. “We’re cool now.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Felix whines. “Does our friendship mean nothing to you?”

You feel guilty. You knew Felix was one of the first people who should have known. But honestly, you’d just bottled it up. Even Ryujin didn’t know much beyond you disappearing upstairs with Minho. You feared that the more you talked about it, the more real it would seem. Whatever it was, this thing that you and Minho had. 

“I never asked to hook up with a football player Felix,” you groan, taking care to keep your voice down. “I never asked for him to be my neighbour, let alone my actual responsibility. But that’s just what it comes down to. Responsibility. I have a job to do, and being involved with Minho goes against everything that it stands for.”

“___, you’re human too,” Felix offers you the cookie from his plate, and you accept it, chomping down. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time.”

“I just thought this year would be different. I thought I’d have everything figured out, and that whatever I experienced would be fun. But now I’m just stuck with this. A mess.”

Felix’s jaw tenses, like he’s lost deep in thought. 

“Do you regret it?” Panic lights your eyes at his question. Because it was one you’d never considered. You’d spent so long trying to push Minho away, creating false distance in between you two, when the reality was, it’d never existed in the first place.

All you wanted was to be closer to him. You wanted to learn the same things about him that he wanted to learn about you. You wanted to know what it would actually feel like if he kissed you in front of the fountain.

“No” you manage to breathe out with a sigh. “I don’t. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“It could,” Felix counters.

Head spinning, you find your appetite has disappeared. You watch Felix look at you with concern as you bid him a half-hearted bye, telling him you’ll see him later. 

Maybe you couldn’t lie to yourself about Minho anymore. But you couldn’t do anything about the truth except live with it. 

You thought Namjoon believed in you enough to not stick you on RA duty during your birthday, but apparently not. So, you’d guiltily waved goodbye to Felix, telling him to go celebrate in your honour, and you’re curled up on the couch, notebook in hand, trying to review your reading for the week. 

A few hours pass, in which you change the way you’re sitting numerous times, get up to take a water break at least every seven minutes, and are finally situated and focused enough to accomplish something, but then the thumping starts. 

At first you’re confused. Was someone working out? Did the room upstairs set up a bowling alley? Both of those explanations seemed more plausible until you actually listened for the source of the noise. It was coming from right next to you. 

Room 103.

You groan. Of course they’d be having a party. Midterm season had just finished, and what else did football players do on a Saturday night? 

Unfortunately, that also meant it was on you to stop it. And deal with the aftermath of ruining the night for a bunch of salty students. You breathe a heavy sigh, running through countless scenarios in your head to avoid going over. You could just keep studying, maybe bake a batch of brownies. But each one of those scenarios is ruined by none other than Kim Namjoon. His voice drones on in the back of your mind, waxing poetic about how with great power comes great responsibility. The man needed to stop rewatching so many Spider-Man movies. 

Setting your notebook to the side, you throw on a cardigan, shuffling over to Minho’s apartment. The cacophonous bass reverberates even from outside, and you give a timid knock, unsure if anyone will be able to hear you. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the door swings open, the gleeful eyes of Seo Changbin taking in your presence at the door.

“I, uhm, I’m here to uh,” you barely get a sentence out before you’re being swept inside, Changbin’s bellowing laugh echoing behind you. “Look who joined us!” Changbin shouts, and a few heads turn to look in your direction. You catch a couple of questioning looks, one of them being Hyunjin, but for the most part, your presence is ignored.

“Any chance we can get you up on one of the tables?” Changbin offers you a drink, gesturing to the living room. You shake your head, backing up against wall of the entryway.

“Listen, I can’t stay, I just came to –”

“___? What are you doing here?” A voice sounds from behind you, and you turn to see Minho looking at you, shock on his face. 

You gulp. You’d hoped you wouldn’t have to run into him tonight, that it would be a quick in and out. Once the party was shut down, everyone would go home in a sour mood, maybe Minho would hate you for it, and you’d be able to get over your feelings for him in peace.

“Leave her alone, Bin,” Minho chastises his roommate, who’s still trying to goad you for a drink. And then he grabs you by the hand, pulling you further into the lion's den.

The first thing you notice is the sheer heat. Not only are there dozens of bodies crowded up against each other, but it’s Minho himself. He maneuvers you through the crowd, keeping you close to him, and it makes you dizzy. Through the stench of beer and sweat, his cologne peeks through, spiking your body temperature even more.

You don’t know where Minho is leading you, but eventually you two end up near the end of the hallway, bypassing many loud conversations and couples making out, until you stumble upon a series of closed doors. Your face burns when you realize it’s their rooms.

“I need to go,” you say quickly, turning on your heel. “I shouldn’t even be here, this shouldn’t be happening.”

“Hey,” Minho rests a hand on your shoulder. “I just wanted to bring you somewhere quieter, where you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, heart soaring at the touching gesture. “Still, I should…”

“Can’t you stay for a bit?” Minho begs, his sparkling eyes meeting yours, and you’re unable to do anything but nod yes.

“Lee! How you doing man?” a voice bellows from far away, and you notice Mingyu, one of the forwards on the soccer team, walk up and high-five Minho, slapping him on the back. “Who’s your friend?”

Mingyu’s eyes do a once over, eyebrows furrowing at your sweatpants and cardigan, before looking quizically at Minho. 

Minho draws a hand around your waist, coming to rest protectively on your hip. His palm burns through the thin fabric where your tank top ends, keeping you tight to his body.

“This is ___. If you don’t mind, we’re kind of busy.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, smirking as he disappears in the crowd. That’s when you notice Minho’s leaning back against one of the door frames, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Wanna talk in my room?” he asks softly. And it doesn’t sound sleazy or gross. It sounds earnest. Despite the party raging around him, he hasn’t left your side since you showed up, as if he could feel the anxiety coursing through you. As if he’s telling you he’s got you.

“Or I could walk back with you to your room. Whatever you want.”

“W-we can talk,” you say nervously, fisting the side of your cardigan. Somehow, the idea of returning to your notebook seems wholly unappealing. “Just for a bit.”

“Okay,” he opens the door, leading you in.

. . .

The first thing you notice about the room is that it’s surprisingly clean. For a guy’s room anyway. There are a few stray articles of clothing strewn on the chair, but there’s also a neat stack of books, and a bunch of photo frames on Minho’s desk. One in particular catches your eye.

You pick it up, a smile breaking out onto your face at the photo of Minho, star running back, crouched up to three tiny cats.

“Soonie, Doongi, and Dori,” Minho’s voice echoes behind you. “I adopted them when I was in middle school.”

“I didn’t take you for a cat person,” you giggle.

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Minho takes the frame from you, setting it back in place. His voice sounds distant, like he’s thinking too hard.

“Tell me about yourself,” you blurt out without thinking, watching Minho’s eyes widen in surprise. You realize that you barely knew anything about him, while he’d worked so hard to know you, and his words from the night of the formal echoed in your brain. 

Everything I see about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to learn.

You learn that Minho lives twenty minutes away, something you hadn’t expected. And that he goes home to visit his parents every other weekend, checking up on his cats. You learn football is just something he plays for fun – he’s not super serious about it like Chan or Changbin, but he stayed on the team because they’re his friends. You learn he likes fishing, but also pulling pranks on people. He’d nearly convinced Jisung that they cancelled Spy x Family the other week, and the poor boy had believed him before Minho had to chase him down with a bag of chocolate covered pretzels from the campus cafe and apologize. You learn that Lee Minho is so much more than you ever thought he could be, and that you feel more for him than you could have ever imagined, the realization giving you goosebumps.

“Hey,” Minho pokes you in the ribs. “You zoned out. Everything okay?”

No, everything was not okay. You wondered if he noticed how you’ve gone completely still next to him, your breathing shallow. Minho’s eyes have darkened, filled with an emotion you can’t possibly name, but something you want to believe in. And for once, you want to lose control, and fall off the edge together.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, your gaze dropping to his lips. Minho freezes, but doesn’t back away.

“Fuck,” he huffs, heavy breaths filling the space between you. “You sure?”

“Please,” you groan, closing the distance so your lips ghost over his. Minho finally snaps, bringing his mouth to yours, groaning against your lips. You bite back a moan as he nips your bottom lip. The sound stirs him, and with a hard squeeze to your thigh, he’s backing you onto the bed below him. Heart pounding, the look in his eyes is dangerous, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me make you feel good,” he breathes against your forehead. 

You’re unable to do anything but whine in response, watching as he pushes your tank top up to undo the ties on your sweatpants, fingers digging into your hips while he pulls the fabric down, taking your underwear with it. His mouth peppers rough kisses down your throat and into your cleavage, leaving splotches of crimson and violet as he grazes his teeth in every spot his lips meet. 

“Tell me you want this,” he asks, eyes searching yours. 

“Yes,” you groan, head swimming. “I want this, want to feel you, please—“

Your pleas are cut off swiftly as he slips two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls with a low sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” 

“Only for you,” you whine, completely lost to what is coming out of your mouth.

“You’re so beautiful, fuck, been thinking about this for so long,” Minho hisses when you gush around him, arousal dripping down his wrist.

You feel yourself flutter at his words, throwing your head back while reaching over to swipe your fingers through his sweaty hair. You tug at the back of his shirt, and he pulls it over his head, his shaking hands slipping the cardigan off your shoulders and tugging the straps of your tank top down.

Looming over you, he engulfs your nipple in his mouth, and you gasp sharply when he bites down with his teeth, swirling his tongue over it quickly to soothe your reddened skin. But Minho doesn’t stop there, his lips trailing all over you, unable to stop kissing you. 

It’s a thousand times stronger, more intimate than the time from the summer, the feelings that have built between you mounting and mounting until they’re an inferno. 

The first press of his tongue against your folds has you squirming as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. Your knees buckle around him as he works you with his tongue, fingers dipping lower and lower until they press right against where you need him most. Feeling a harsh suck to your clit, you moan loud enough that you’re sure that anyone who’s outside can hear you. But you don’t care, reveling in what it means to let him in.

Just as you’re about to let go and surrender yourself completely, Minho’s fingers retreat, leaving you clenching around nothing. You open your lips, ready to protest, but Minho cuts you off, stuffing his fingers inside your mouth.

“Suck,” he commands, and you’re left breathless, unable to do anything but comply while wetting the digits, tasting yourself.

“Need to see you come while I’m inside you,” Minho slips off the rest of his clothes. You feel your mouth go dry when his cock springs free, and he chuckles at the depraved look in your eyes, before pushing his cock completely inside, leaving you reeling at the stretch.

“Please, move,” you beg, and he obliges. Fucking you slowly like he never wants to forget this moment. His strong arm slips around your waist, lifting you up against his chest and his lips find yours again, tongue licking into you to steal the moans that escape you, head dizzying at the change in position.

“Minho, fuck, I’m going to come, please wanna so bad,” you whine, feeling lightheaded with ecstasy. Reaching down, Minho rubs tight circles on your clit, messy slick coating his fingers until you feel yourself snap, gushing around him.

“Cum for me ____,” he breathes against your neck.

That’s what does it, pushing you overboard, wetness gushing from you as you moan his name. Minho speeds up his thrusts to join you, groaning when he feels himself explode, before slumping against you, chest heaving with the weight of his breaths.

His sweat soaked bangs are messy, covering his eyes, and his fingertips skim across your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Stay with me?” he blurts out, head ducking in embarrassment at the silly statement. “I mean, not like that, just..”

And you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him closer to you, burying your head in the crook of his shoulder, soft breath fanning his damp skin. 

Dawn spills into the room, and you sigh, careful not to wake a snoring Minho. He’d fallen asleep quickly, but you’d been unable to do the same, tossing and turning beside him. What scared you was how much regret you didn’t feel over what had just transpired. How much you wished you could just give in and let it happen again. 

But you couldn’t. Not only had you completely broken the pact to be just friends with Minho, but you’d also completely forgotten about the entire reason you’d even come here last night, the forgotten responsibilities of your job weighing heavily on you.

Rising, you carefully pick up your clothes, throwing them on quickly. You feel Minho stir softly, before he’s stretching, rubbing at his eyes.

“Morning,” his voice is low and raspy, but also completely content. A sharp contrast to the torment you currently feel. “Wanna grab breakfast?”

“Minho,” your voice is bleak, and you watch his figure slump. He’d fucked up. You both had.

“Last night should have never happened. And I know that if we keep doing this, spending time with each other, it’ll happen again. But I can’t. I have a job, I have responsibilities, and they’re important to me.”

You know the words cut deep, because you also know you’d give them all up in a second to wake up to him again, to feel his lips on yours. 

Minho’s expression is blank, watching you scurry around the room to pick up your stuff. You knew the moment you walked out of there, there’d be no going back, even to being friends.  

It breaks your heart even more when he doesn’t move to get up and help you, watching you instead with devastated eyes. 

But you also knew you couldn’t turn around and look back at him, because you’d drop everything and stay.

. . .

The sun is too bright, hurting your eyes as you walk to the dining hall, what feels like chalk settling in the back of your throat. You feel like you’re battling the worst hangover of your life, despite not having a single drink last night, and you were so grateful Felix was still asleep when you’d slipped inside.

You’d let everything slip out of control, and now your life was spiralling. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should just accept the guilt for everything, leaving Minho behind and handing in your resignation. But then you realized how stupid that sounded, leaving you with nothing.

You swing the heavy door to the dining hall open, not even noticing the figure on the other side until you’re falling backwards. You catch the door just in time, looking up to be met with the tall figure of Kim Namjoon. And he doesn’t look happy.

“___, my office, now.”

. . .

Namjoon rubs in between his eyebrows, his expression darting in between you and the door. Your heart is pounding, fear taking over, even though you already know that whatever is happening cannot be good.

“____, when I chose you for this position at the beginning of the year, it was because I saw so much potential in you,” he begins, his voice trembling. “I thought you’d never do anything to upset me, to disappoint me.”

The word disappoint tells you everything you need to know, and tears begin to prick at the corner of your eyes. Of course there would have been wandering eyes at the party last night. Of course someone would have recognized you, seen what you were doing, and said something to Namjoon. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid.

“Getting involved with a resident is a blatant violation of the responsibilities that have been entrusted to you as a resident assistant. Furthermore, you failed to act and de-escalate a situation that was a clear violation of the student code of conduct.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you cry out, hoping Namjoon will rethink everything. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry.” 

You watch his eyes flash with hurt at your pleading, but you know from the despondency in his expression there’s nothing you can do.

“I’m sorry, ____ but I have to report this to the advisory board. They’ll deliberate, but as of right now, you’re suspended from your position, and it’s very likely you won’t be invited back next year. Karina will fill in for you in the meantime.”

He stands up, before leading you out gently. “I wish there was more I could do.”

You’re unable to say a word, slipping your coat over your shoulders and ducking your head to try to hide the tears that won’t stop flowing. You wonder if you should try harder, plead your case, but you know that the fault was entirely yours. 

Looking up, you see Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin walk into the dining hall, laughing to each other, and duck behind a corner, your appetite completely gone. Taking off, you run as fast as you can, not stopping until your feet lead you back to the dorms.

Campus in the springtime is a sea of pink - the light, delicate hue of cherry blossoms creating a canopy on the ground, filling up the pathway to the fountain. But their beauty is lost on Minho, who sits by the fountain, staring blankly at the gurgling water. 

Two months. It’d been two months since you’d ended things, rushing out of his room. Two months since you’d chosen responsibility over him. Minho wanted to be angry, wanted to hate you. But he just felt empty instead. 

He’d tried talking to everyone – Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin had no idea what happened to you. Felix would only glare at him in anger from across campus, and he wonders if he’d broken your heart just as bad as you’d broken his. As if somehow that would make him feel better, knowing you were in just as much pain as him. But it didn’t.

His own teammates saw how everything ached for Minho, from him burning his breakfast to failing to catch the simplest of throws. And they were worried. But Minho couldn’t fix this – he couldn’t go back to how the two of you had been before. Because in reality, there’d never been a chance for the two of you to begin with. He realized it now. You were just too different. 

And yet it hadn’t stopped him from falling in love with you. He’d finally figured it out, when it was far too late. He was in love with you – the way you made him feel alive, like the world was full of possibilities. Only for it all to come crashing down.

“Hey dude,” Chan’s soft voice comes from next to him, taking a seat on the bench. “You okay?”

“Hanging in there, old man,” Minho musters a weak smile, but it falters, and Chan immediately notices. Minho looks at his friend, who can’t stop looking around at who’s passing by, and he realizes he’s keeping a secret.

“Spill,” Minho commands, and Chan furiously nods no.

“Lino, we have our last game soon, you need to stay focused…”

“Say it,” Minho hisses through his teeth, because he knows that whatever Chan is hiding, I t’s about you.

The words come spilling out before Chan can stop them, and Minho takes them all in, everything suddenly becoming clear.

. . . 

The roar of the buzzer echoes in Minho’s ear,  along with the deafening sound of the crowd, and suddenly he’s being dogpiled by his teammates. Hyunjin and Changbin are screaming in his ear, the school fight song is blaring, but time slows for Minho, and he focuses on none of it.

Everything moves too quickly, the fans rushing from the stands, spilling out onto the field and campus beyond. Minho is being pushed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, until the locker room appears behind him. He’s stripping off his jersey, hitting the showers while his teammates erupt into joy around him. Minho lets the water drip off him, bracing himself against the wall, heavy breaths escaping him.

The win didn’t feel like a win at all. Not with the guilt that resided in his chest ever since he’d spoken to Chan a week ago. Minho knew the celebrations would go all night, the liquor would keep flowing, that all bets were off and every rule could be broken. But he didn’t care about any of that.

All he knew was that tonight, while campus erupted into a riotous celebration, he needed to find you.

He ignores Hyunjin’s protests while he slips out of the locker room, Chan holding his other teammates back. Minho throws a hoodie on, and steps out into the night air.

The first thing he notices is the swarm – there are people everywhere, screams echoing in his ears. Then it’s the pandemonium - banners strewn on the ground, the blare of an air horn in the distance, the blaze of what he’s pretty sure is a firework. 

People line up around him as he moves through the crowd, pushing his way through overzealous fans, and overeager sorority girls offering him a victory kiss. He throws his hood up, ducking his face so that no one else can catch him, setting off to the emptier part of campus.

Eventually, the crowd dies down as he draws closer to the dorms, everyone out celebrating on the main green. Minho walks down the path he’s become so familiar with this year, the familiar sound of the fountain welcoming him.

He knew he’d find you here. Your eyes are turned away from him as you sit on the edge, aimlessly dragging your hand through the water.

“Not gonna celebrate?” He watches you jump at the sound of his voice, quickly rising up.

“Congrats, I’m sure it was a great game,” you whisper, but you’re backing away, and Minho can’t let you leave.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Minho interrupts you, resting his arm on yours, and he watches your eyes meet his, so much pain contained within them when you realize he knows.

“It wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” you counter, looking down at the fountain. 

“That’s such crap, they let you go for that?”

“They let me go because I broke the rules, Minho. I deserved it.”

Minho lets out a heavy sigh, watching you shiver in the cold, and he slips off his hoodie. You dodge it, the two of awkwardly dancing around each other, before accepting it, sinking into the feeling of Minho’s warmth. 

“You’ve gotta stop letting me steal your jackets, I’ve already got a rap sheet,” you joke, but Minho doesn’t smile.

“I’m so fucking sorry, ___.” He says looking out onto the campus. “We really fucked things up, didn’t we?”

“Maybe this is how it was supposed to be,” you tell him. “You know, I was reading up on things, for my astronomy class and I learned that sometimes, when stars collide, they just collapse into dust. Like nothing else happens – they’re together one moment, and then gone the next, the remnants of their collision floating through the universe.”

Minho watches your breath come out in heavy puffs, and his mind wanders back to the stars on the night he’d almost kissed you in the fountain.

“Can I have one more thing to remember you by then?” He asks, intertwining his fingertips with yours, pulling you close to him, watching you nod before closing the distance in between you two. 

Sparks explode across your skin when he kisses you, your hands swinging around his neck. You sway from the wash of emotions that come over you, and Minho’s hands are there, steadying you as you break apart, rubbing his cheek against yours and pressing tiny kisses all the way from your temple to your hair.

Eventually, the sound of the crowd draws closer, and Minho watches you pull away, holding out his hoodie in his hands. Taking it, he watches you retreat, wondering if there’d ever be a time where the universe would let you find each other again to pick up the pieces.

Sighing, you tape up the last box, pushing it to the side before collapsing on the couch. The end of the semester had come quickly after the raucous football celebrations, everyone in campus on a high. 

Surprisingly, you’d dealt with the pain pretty well, settling into a new routine after being let go. Felix had been your biggest support, allowing you to cry into his shoulder as much as you wanted, baking plenty of brownies to keep you from descending into too deep of a depression.

Eventually, you’d learned to just let the wound scar over. The night of the game with Minho had provided you with closure in the best way possible, confirming to you that life had had its own plan for you all along. Thought, from time to time, you mind still lingered on the kiss the two of you had shared – for a moment, you’d thought that it could have meant something, but maybe that was your lesson – learning to take things as they were, because the more expectations you’d had, the more things fell apart.

A gentle knock interrupts your train of thought, and you walk over to the door, opening it up to find none other than Namjoon on the other side. Confused, you let him in, silence falling in between you while you wait for him to speak.

“____, I’m so sorry, Minho told me everything,” Namjoon blurts out, and his words have you reeling. What did he mean?

“He told me how he was the one to overstep the boundaries of your job and how you tried to stop it, I knew I shouldn’t have doubted you. The board says you can stay on for next year!”

You remain frozen in place, unable to speak or even think, before the overwhelming urge to find Minho comes over you.

“Namjoon, I’m sorry but I need to go right now.” 

And then you rush out the door.

. . . 

The door to room 103 is propped open with a six-pack, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as you barge in, Hyunjin’s surprised figure greeting you right behind the door.

“_____? What the hell?”

“No time to talk, Hwang,” you push past him. “Where is he?”

“Where is who?”

“You know damn well who I’m talking about.”

Hyunjin pauses, before nodding his head towards Minho’s room, the subtle smirk never leaving his face as he watches you bound towards the door.

“LEE MINHO!” your shrill voice causes Minho to drop the book he was packing on his foot, and you smile as you watch him jump around, swearing under his breath. 

“____? What are you doing here…”

“How dare you!” Minho groans when you punch him in the arm. “I cannot believe you did that.”

“Damn it, I swore that Namjoon man to secrecy,” Minho chuckles, a whoosh of air leaving him when you suddenly throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. “You. Are. Crazy,” you whisper into his hair, feeling him smile against you while he pulls you closer, rubbing his hands on your back.

“You like it though,” he smirks. 

“I love it,” you correct him, watching his grin go from tentative to ear-splitting. “Namjoon said you were suspended from the team though. I’m confused, isn’t this your last semester?”

“Well,” Minho blushes. “I may have to stay an extra one. Just to sort everything out, you know.”

“Jeongin will be so thrilled to have you on the team with him,” you giggle, kissing the corner of his mouth. 

“And you?”

“I’m gonna need a re-do of that love poem you wrote me. Byron would be rolling over in his grave.”

“I don’t know who the hell that is.”

“Good thing you have time to learn then.”

“So,” Minho grabs your hand nervously. “My parents brought Soonie, Doongi and Dori with them. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to introduce them to my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” you ask him. 

“Oh I’m sorry would you prefer twin planet? Or shining star?”

“Watch it Lee.”

Minho wastes no time dragging you out the door with him, Hyunjin waving the two of you off. Stepping out into the sunshine, you see two figures in the distance waving to Minho, and you smile, the collision that had once steered you off course finally leading you and Minho back on the path where you both belonged. With each other.

a/n pt. 2: they are so getting married btw! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @mal-lunar-28

[peachdues]

PEACHIE!!! i wanna know about your kny oc!!! i wanna know everything abt her i wanna see which of my girls would vibe with her (chances are good at least one of them would bc i have three AHAHA)

oooh Fallon!! Ahh okay, let me see what I can come up with!

Setsuna Ishikuro is the Reader in Wind and Moon (or maybe the Reader in WAM is Setsuna — that’s probably the more accurate way to put it)

Setsuna is/was the daughter of a wealthy merchant family and she was being primed to take over her father’s business when her elder brother died. He was supposed to be a demon slayer and carry on the lunar breathing tradition, but he fell ill and died before he could partake in Final Selection. Setsuna is very resentful that she was forced to assume his place because she wanted to be a merchant like her father. Because of her upbringing, she has bougie tastes lmao. She loves things — expensive baubles, art, silks, kimonos, you name it.

When she’s reassigned to be Mitsuri’s tsuguko after the Incident (in which she’s fired as Sanemi’s tsuguko), she and Mitsuri bond over their mutual love of food. Setsuna still can navigate the merchant world, so she uses her connections to allow Mitsuri to try more western food (and both girls love sweets). They pig out together quite frequently.

Loves hanging out with women, but because of the events of the prologue (and as you’ll see in the next chapter) Setsuna =/= getting along with men. She’s afraid of them, but that fear comes out as extreme coldness and disgust. However, when she’s cornered, she freezes. Sanemi and Ubayashiki are basically the exception (though she does warm up to Kyojuro eventually). Despises Tengen because he makes an unsavory and poor-timed comment about her body (that he regrets instantly — he wasn’t thinking)

She is drawn to Sanemi because of their ✨ moment✨ in the prologue after she dug herself out of her own grave. He saw her and she recognized that.

Once Setsuna gets over some of her own anger/rage, she’s quite considerate and kind! She had one younger sister who died horrifically (again, see the prologue for Wind and Moon), and she misses her dearly. Because of that, Setsuna is very kind to children. She’s also quite thoughtful in her own way, even if she can be a little shy about her feelings. She observes Sanemi’s penchant for matcha and takes care to send him really high quality stuff even in the year they don’t see each other — though she doesn’t tell him who it’s from.

Uhhh does that help?? Ask me more questions if you want, but yes!! Give my girl friends, god knows she needs them!!

[danceswithsporks]

Awake- Part 9

Crosshair x f!Innkeeper Reader

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

*not canon to season 3*

Authors Notes: Hey so remember when I told @motte-the-goblin that the next part would be up within the week, yesterday? Yeah so apparently I meant today lmao.

I am…so unbelievably sorry for how long this took and how short it is. Lots of stuff went down since the last update and I’ve just been trying to rebound. As for the short length of this chapter, I wanted to get through everything and get them moving onto recovery but I just couldn’t find an organic way to do it. So instead this chapter came out of it.

As I did last year, I’ll be taking the next month of to reset my brain and prepare for Clone x OC week and

KATSUCON 2025! Let me know if any of you will be there! I’d love to meet up and chat clone wars/bad batch with you all!

Chapter Summary:

You wake up to a distressing call and find yourself called to duty.

Awake, once again you were lying awake in your bed, alone. The warmth that you had gotten used to was gone and in its place was empty coldness. Outside, a storm could be heard raging. On nights like this you’d usually have the door open to your private garden where you’d enjoy the smell of the rain and the cool breeze it brought with it. But not tonight. No, instead you kept everything closed and buried yourself beneath the blankets of your far too big bed as you waited for your com or datapad to ring. 

Five months, he’d been gone for five long months. The two of you spoke every once in a while. It started close to three times a week but as the weeks turned into months, it dwindled to once or twice a week. Now it was once every two weeks or so. You’d asked him a few separate times what was going on, but he never told you. 

“Takin’ care of some business.” He’d told you a few different times. 

You hated it, you hated him. Not really, but slightly. Things had finally gotten better. He was opening up to you and you’d never felt closer. But then he was gone. Just hours after finally opening up to you, he’d left. 

You thought you’d be okay. He was just a guy. A paying guest in your inn. But after the first week, you found yourself missing his scent. By the second week, you were missing his warmth and by the third week, you were just missing him. You found yourself pacing around your apartment hoping he’d knock on your door suddenly. After a moment, you’d call him in and he’d join you on the couch. You’d read your book and he’d look through his datapad. Then you’d go and lay in bed, your head on his chest, his hand stroking through your hair and the two of you would exchange more stories about growing up. Maybe he’d apologize for being gone for so long, maybe he wouldn’t say anything at all. You wouldn’t mind either way. 

A long groan left you as you rolled over and buried your face into his pillow. It no longer held his scent and that upset you. It wasn’t fair that he’d done this to you, to your heart. Rolling over away from your datapad, you nuzzled deeper into your bed and tried to force yourself to sleep. Stupid, Crosshair. Even if he did call you tonight, you’d ignore it. 

*pling pling pling* 

You practically dove for your bedside table and grabbed the datapad. “Crosshair?” You didn’t even bother to look at who was calling. It had to be him, right? He would be the only one to call you this late at night. 

“Is this Doll?” An unfamiliar gruff voice spoke carefully. 

“Who?” You looked at the information on the datapad and realized you didn’t recognize it. “Umm, yes. It is.” 

“Good. My name is Rex. I work with Crosshair. I received your information from Echo.” Rex wondered what the time was where you were. Perhaps he’d woken you up? 

Oh, Stars. Why did you suddenly have a pit in your stomach? ”what’s happened?” You were sitting up now, your heart in your throat. 

“Everything is okay.” He paused. “Well, kind of.” 

What did he mean by that? “Where is Crosshair?” 

Rex looked over his shoulder at a sound. “He’s here. But…” 

“But what?” This was it, he’d tell you Crosshair was seriously hurt, or worse! 

The former Captain sighed. “There’s been an incident. How soon can you be here?” 

Where was ‘here’? “I don’t know where you are. I don’t have a ship.” 

“There is a ride waiting for you. Please come soon.” 

The call was quickly disconnected leaving you slightly confused. There was a knock on your apartment door and you rushed to it. You found Echo waiting on the other side. “Echo?” 

Echo nodded. “How soon can you be packed?” 

-*-

You weren’t sure where you were going. You’d asked Echo a few times during the six-hour trip, all he’d told you was that it was secret. The two of you talked casually about what had been happening. How he was settling into his new role as History of the Galaxy professor at Omegas school and the few missions he’d gone on since the return of Tech. 

“He’s thinking of proposing to her, ya know.”  Echo checked over the readings of his ship as he spoke. 

You looked up from your datapad quickly. “Tech is?” 

The Domino twin nodded. “Yeah, showed me the ring today. Made it out of the crystal from his blaster.” 

A surprised sigh left your lips. “How romantic.” His blaster, the thing that protected his life. 

Echo chuckled. “Guess it is. Think she’ll like it?” 

“He could give her a rock and she’d love it. She’s head over heels for him.” You sat back in your seat and stared out the window. “What about Wrecker? Think he's planning anything?” 

“He may have asked for some advice on how to propose,” Echo smirked at you, earning a laugh. “You’re not gonna say anything, right?” 

“And ruin the surprises? No way.” You winked at the clone before looking back at your datapad. Both your friends would be engaged soon. It was hard not to be jealous. They’d found the perfect men and you were still struggling with your own feelings. You shook the thoughts away quickly earning a confused look from Echo. Clearing your throat, you decided to change the topic. “So what’s going on? Why do I need to go to you guys?” 

Echo chewed his lip, trying to think about how much to reveal. “I can’t reveal too much. It’s not my place to. But what I can tell you is that some things went sideways and you’re the only one who seems to get through to him.” 

“Echo.” You reached over and grabbed his scomp. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?” 

He looked down at your hand before looking up at you. Your eyes were filled with worry and it was clear your nerves were getting the best of you. “Physically he’s fine. I promise.” He watched as you visibly relaxed. “It’s mentally that we’re worried about.” 

Mentally? “Why?” Why was he being so roundabout about this? 

A long sigh left the domino twin. “Rex will explain it better than me.” He checked over the information on his screen. “Sit back, we’ll be arriving soon.” 

-*-

Echo led you into a large structure that had seen better days. Walls were crumbled around you and there was a clear draft. In the center of the room was a holo table with many clones around it. A blonde one stepped away after seeing you enter the room. He walked over and extended his hand to you. 

“You must be Doll, I’m Rex.” He took a moment to look you over. You were a cute little thing. Bright eyes and a nice figure. 

You shook his hand gently. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. I’ve heard a good amount about you.” 

Rex glanced at Echo. “So have I.” He motioned to the men around the table. “This is Howzer, Gregor, Kix, and Cody.” Each man raised a hand as Rex said their name. 

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You nodded to each one. It was odd seeing so many clones in one place. Not only was it the ones around the table, but also a few others walking around the room moving crates. Now that you saw so many together, you could see the way they all looked the same. It was almost a shock compared to how the batch looked. “Where is he?” 

“This way.” Rex motioned towards an opposite door. 

You followed the blonde clone closely. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

Rex paused and turned to face you. “The target that we’ve been tracking has vanished.” 

“Oh.” Why would that require you to come here? 

“He was a high-priority target for Crosshair. He’s not taking it well.” A loud sound came from the room nearest your group. “Echo, you should make sure the room is safe for her to enter.” 

Echo nodded, but before he could move, you reached out and stopped him. “It’s okay.” You stepped around him and reached for the door panel. 

“If anything happens, call out for us,” Rex spoke sternly. He’d protect you if need be. 

“Echo!” Kix ran towards the domino twin quickly. He stopped in front of Echo slightly out of breath. 

Echo turned to face the medic. “Kix? What’s going on?” 

“Gregor thinks we found her. Come on.” He motioned back towards the main area. 

“Dove?” When Kix nodded, Echo felt the air leave his lungs. Finally, they had a lead on her. He looked back at you quickly and when you nodded, he took off. 

Your eyes returned to the door in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the mechanism in the door and it slid open. You gasped at the sight before you.

The room was an absolute mess. Clothes had been flung everywhere. A chair was overturned against the wall and even the cot had been flipped over. Crosshair sat on the side of the flipped cot, his head in his hands. 

“Crosshair?” You carefully stepped into the room. He didn’t react to your voice. Rex cleared his throat loudly behind you but even that didn’t grab the sniper's attention. You carefully walked over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder. “Crosshair? It’s me.” He jumped at your touch. 

He lifted his head from his hands and turned to face you. “D-Doll?” Why were you here? No! No. No. No! You couldn’t see him like this. 

He’d changed a lot since the last time you’d seen him. It had been nearly two months since he’d holo called you. His hair was longer now and so was his facial hair. A full beard was now visible. It was clear he hadn’t been sleeping, the bags under his eyes were massive. “Oh, Crosshair.” You moved your hand from his shoulder to his cheek. 

“How are you here?” He’d forgotten how beautiful you were. The holos on his datapad did you no justice. His eyes shifted to Rex behind you. “You brought her here?” 

“No, Sniper.” You kneeled next to him and took his hand in yours. “I asked Echo to bring me here. I haven’t heard from you in a while. I began to worry.” Pulling his hand up to your face, you placed it against your cheek. “Why didn’t you contact me?” 

Touching you was like being home. He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry, Kitten.” A few tears ran down his cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

You took a deep breath. This was worse than you could have expected. Your free hand slid behind your back and you motioned for Rex to leave the room. After a moment you heard the door slide shut. Standing, you released Crosshair’s hand and walked around the overturned bed. Once in front of him, you sat on the floor between the bed and the wall. “Come here?” 

Crosshair didn’t hesitate for a moment to fall to the floor next to you. He moved to bury his face into his hands but was stopped by you grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into you. He buried his face into your shoulder and began to shake. The tears that burned his eyes fought to break free, but he couldn’t let them out. You couldn’t see him like this, weak and broken. He felt your hand press against his back before moving up and down. He waited for the questions to come…but they didn’t. Instead, you simply held him. 

You’d wait as long as you needed to until he was ready to talk. For now, you’d simply hold him and let him know you were there. 

-*-

Two long days passed by before he was ready to talk. You’d spent that time switching between holding him, cleaning, fixing the room, and feeding you both. Meals were brought three times a day to both of you by Rex or one of the others. You hadn’t seen Echo since the day he brought you here. 

Howzer, the one with teal on his armor, had been kind enough to bring a second cot for you to sleep on. The moment he’d left the room you’d pushed the two cots together. You held Crosshair each night, keeping him close to you. The only time you heard his voice was when he spoke in his sleep. It was hard to understand what he was saying. Only a few words were clear. 

“Hunter, duck!”

“Tech, on your left.” 

“Easy shot” 

“Hold on Mayday, hold on.” 

Mayday was mentioned a lot during those first two nights. Crosshair had told you very little about the man, the topic being a sensitive one for him. 

On the third day, your curiosity finally got the best of you. Crosshair was still deep asleep when you woke up. You would have stayed by his side and waited for him to wake up like you had the last two days. But today, you just couldn’t get Mayday out of your mind. You carefully removed yourself from his arms before slowly getting off your cot. You slipped on your boots, pulled the only long-sleeved shirt you’d brought over your head, and prayed that the pants you wore would be enough to keep you warm. You’d been in such a hurry to pack that you hadn’t even bothered to ask Echo what the weather would be like. You’d simply packed two outfits plus the one you were wearing when you arrived. Two of those outfits had short sleeves while only one had long sleeves. The only reason why you’d stayed relatively comfortable these past few days was because you’d been as close to Crosshair as possible. The clone and the blankets on the cots were enough to keep you warm. 

The door opened with a quiet whoosh as you exited the small room. While inside with him it didn’t seem that small, now that you were out in the hall and looking back into the room, you realized how little it was. Crosshair shifted on the cot and you worried he was about to wake up. But when he settled once more, you sighed and let the door shut. It took you a few tries to find your way back to that main room you’d been in when you first arrived, but after a long fifteen minutes, you found it. You hadn’t realized how early it was when you were in the room. But now that you stood in the almost empty control room, you realized just how early it truly was. 

“Howzer?” The teal clone stood by the holo table with a mug in hand. Steam swirled in the air above it and the familiar scent of coffee filled the room. 

Howzer looked away from the holo table in surprise. He hadn’t expected to see you this early and without Crosshair. “What are you doing up this early?” The Captain looked you over before catching the way you shivered slightly. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” You shifted as he walked to the side of the room and picked up a dark bundle off one of the crates. He crossed the room over to you and held the bundle out to you. “Thanks. You?” 

“One of us is always on duty at the table. Just in case someone contacts us.” He watched you unfurl the bundle and look it over before pulling it on. “Trouble sleeping, huh?” He stepped closer to you and tugged the robe gently. Adjusting it so it sat better on your shoulders and didn’t pull on your neck. The Jedi that had owned it before would have been happy to know it was being used again. 

The robe was so warm and comfortable, that you sighed softly as warmth began to spread through your body. You nodded as the clone in front of you adjusted the garment a few times before stepping away from you. “Got a lot on my mind.” 

Howzer motioned towards the other side of the room. “Like what?” 

You followed him around the holo table and towards a steaming pot. The scent of caf was becoming stronger and stronger. “Well…” you chewed your lip in thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to breach the subject. “I was wondering something. Were you…part of the Empire too?” 

He froze at her question, the clean mug in his hand shaking slightly. “I was.” 

“What…was it like? Did you know Crosshair then? Did you also have a Jedi?” The questions seemed to race out your mouth before you could stop them. You took a long breath to try and stop the rest. “Sorry” 

Howzer shook his head and fought off the urge to laugh, you were cute. He finished pouring you a cup of coffee before answering. “It was different, I did, and yes, I did have a Jedi.” He passed you the mug. “Drink this, it’ll help ya warm up.” 

You blushed slightly before taking the mug. It felt nice in your cold hands. “Thanks.” You took a small sip of the warm drink and visibly recoiled slightly. That was some of the worst tasting coffee you’d ever had. 

A chuckle left Howzer as you took your sip. “Not the best tasting stuff in the galaxy. But it gets the job done.” He motioned over to a set of crates set up around a larger crate. “How about ya start at the top and I’ll answer what I can.” 

“What was your Jedi like?” You sat on one of the crates and placed your mug on the larger crate that seemed to act as a table. 

“He was a brave and caring man. Don’t know how far my men and I would have made it without him.” He stared down at his mug for a few moments. “We lost him a few weeks before everything changed.” Howzer looked towards the holo table. “How much has he told you about what happened?” 

You took another sip of the warm drink before answering. “He told me about Order 66 and what it entailed.” 

Howzer gave you a softened look before shaking his head. “You honestly shouldn't know about it. Not the type of things civs should hear about.” 

“Civs?” Your head tilted to the side. 

“Civilians.” Another voice echoed across the empty room. 

“Cody.” Howzer nodded to the ex Marshal Commander. “Doll had some questions that were keeping her awake.”

Cody nodded and stroked his growing beard in a way that Rex had told him reminded him of Kenobi. “I see.” He walked over to the two of you as Howzer stood and grabbed another mug of caf. “Like what?”  

“What it was like being a part of the Empire. What his Jedi was like. If he knew Crosshair then.” Cody was the one in orange. You could clearly see small spots of gray poking through the paint, probably best you didn’t ask about that. Your nails tapped against the ceramic of the cup in front of you. “Could I ask the same questions to you?” 

“You can.” Cody settled on the crate and watched Howzer bring over the coffee. “I worked in the Empire for a while as well. Even worked side by side with Crosshair. Never seen a more skilled sniper in my life. The last mission I did was with him.” 

“What do you mean the last mission?” Your hands gripped the mug in your hands tightly, the warmth of it finally getting to your bones. 

The once Marshal Commander took a long sip of his drink before speaking. “Soon after that mission, I tried to walk away from it all. I’d seen too much and been through too much. I couldn’t take it anymore. Someone higher up heard about my plan to go AWOL. I was captured before I could even try to leave and taken to Tantiss. The same place Crosshair would later be imprisoned at.” 

“Oh.” You swallowed. Maybe it was best to change the subject. “Did you have a Jedi you worked with?” 

“Yeah, he was an amazing General. Saved my life more times than I can count.” And yet he’d killed him. Shot him down mercilessly. He remembered the feeling of seeing his body move on its own and fire at him. The way he fell from that wall. “Wore a robe just like the one you’re wearing.” He motioned to the garment wrapped around your body. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the familiar material against his fingers at least one more time. 

“This was a Jedis robe?” You looked down at the dark brown garment. A Jedi had worn this before you. You looked at Howzer quickly for verification. The teal clone nodded to you before looking away. “I feel honored then.” 

The three of you fell into silence for a few minutes. Simply enjoying the silence and the company. Cody was the first to speak. 

“Something tells me there’s more to why you couldn’t sleep.” You awkwardly shifted across from him and it was all the answer he needed. “Ask away.” 

You took a long breath. “What do you know about a clone named Mayday?” 

-*-

You sat on a crate outside on the landing pad deep in thought. The robe was still pulled tight around you. The sun was up now and slowly warming the air. Thoughts on what you’d learned about Mayday ran through your head. You knew he was dead, that was something Crosshair had told you. It was how he died that had taken you by surprise. If what you’d read was true then poor Crosshair had been through so much more than you realized. 

“Doll?” A familiar voice called to you from the hangar doors. 

You turned and locked eyes with the man you’d been thinking of. “Crosshair.” 

He quickly moved across the landing pad as you stood up from the crate. The moment he was in front of you he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I thought you left.” 

“I wouldn’t leave without telling you. I just needed some fresh air and time to think.” Your face nuzzled into his chest. It was clear he hadn’t showered in a few days, the smell didn’t bother you too much. 

“Think about what?” His face buried into your hair and he inhaled deeply. Yes, this scent, your scent, you were his peace. 

You hummed softly as you listened to him inhale. Should you tell him that you were thinking about him? About what he’d gone through? About Mayday? “Well…” Your mom would tell you that honesty was the best policy here. “About you and what you’ve gone through and…Mayday.” 

“Mayday?” Crosshair pulled away from you and looked down. “Why would you be thinking about him?” 

“Because you’ve mentioned him at least thirty times in your sleep since I’ve been here.” You pulled away from him and walked past him. “I know what happened to him, to both of you. Or at least the details that are in the reports.” 

Crosshair turned and stared at you. “How?” 

A lump seemed to form in your throat. “I asked Cody and Howzer.” 

“What?” He stormed across the platform and over to you. “Why the hell would you ask them?” 

You turned and faced him, anger boiling inside of you at the way he was speaking to you. “Because you would never tell me!” 

‘Stop’  You thought to yourself. This wasn’t on him. What you had learned about that mission from the reports Howzer had found made it clear it was bad. You could only imagine how much worse everything was. A long sigh left your lips as you tried to calm down. 

“It’s been almost a year, Crosshair. We’ve known each other for almost a year now. I don’t expect to know every single detail about your life. But I would hope you’d feel more comfortable opening up to me. Especially now when you’re clearly going through something.” You stepped forward and raised your hands to his face. “Crosshair, please.” Gentle hands cupped his face as pure eyes stared into his. “Open up to me? Let me know the real you.” 

“You couldn’t begin to understand what I’ve been through.” Crosshair tried to pull away from your hands but found himself stopped. Instead, he shifted his eyes away from yours. 

As he looked away from you, you felt your heart drop. The past couple of days had revealed his weaknesses to you. The way he struggled to come to terms with whatever was eating at him had shown you just how deep it truly went. His was so much more than simple nightmares. Whoever this high-priority target was, they had a strong connection to Crosshair. Were they the source of his nightmares? Or just a small part? 

None of it mattered to you right now. All that mattered was him and how he was feeling at this moment. It was clear he was nervous about you learning something or worried that you wouldn’t understand and thus be unable to truly help him. But you’d do whatever you could to help him. You’d take him how he was, with all the baggage included, and make him whole once more. You’d push out the darkness and guide him to the light and be his everything. 

The realization of how much you genuinely cared for this man, this clone who’d started out as a stranger and a renter in your inn, was astonishing to you. In this moment you truly understood that the two of you were a part of one another now. All you wanted was to ease his pain and for him to be happy. You cared for him so much. 

You…loved him.

Your eyes shook as you moved closer to him. “ Let me try, Sniper. Let me be the one to listen to you and know you. Let me love you.” You cooed sweetly to him while stepping forward and pressing your body against his. “Let me be yours, Cross.”

There it was, out in the open finally. You wanted to be his. You wanted to love him and keep him close. To give him all of you and accept all of him. 

Crosshair felt like his heart was racing. This was everything he’d dreamed of. Even before he met you. “I…” he gripped your shoulders tightly and tried to push you away even though his heart was yelling at him not to. “I can’t. You can't know the things I’ve been through, the things I’ve done.” 

“Crosshair.” You followed him as he tried to push you away. “I want to know everything you’ve been through. Everything you’ve done. The good and the bad. All of it.” 

“Doll, you say that now. But once you know the truth there won’t be any way to take it back. I’ve done dark and terrible things.” He hesitated as his body began to shake. “I can’t…I can’t risk losing you. Not yet.” 

“Hey.” You reached up and cradled his face once more, making sure he was looking into your eyes. “Nothing you’ve done, and I mean nothing, will change how I feel about you or think about you.” You stood on the tips of your toes and pressed your lips against his. He hesitated at first to return the kiss but soon his arms were wrapping around you and holding you tight. His lips danced against yours in desperation. You pulled just far enough away so you could speak once more, your lips brushing against his. “I promise.” 

Crosshair fought the nervous energy racing through his body. He pressed his lips against yours in what he feared would be the final time. “Okay.” He truly hoped you’d be able to keep your promise.

 But deep down he feared you wouldn’t be able to. 

Tag list:

@rndmpeep @sarahskywalker-amadala @queenariesofnarnia @idoubleswearimawriter @bambambunny @ravenclawbitch426 @jupitersaturnapollo @mzjakao @heylosers06 @dangraccoon @impala1967666 @andrakass2 @ducks118 @motte-the-goblin @rintheemolion @merkitty49 @jediknightjana @onyxtides @moon-wrecked @mssbridgerton @griffedeloup @masterjedilenawrites

[scary-pixie]

November 1st = New Tina Year! (secret diary entry and upcoming goals)

I'm mainly writing this down so I don't slack off! Cause if I slack off I can look back on this and think, "wow, you failed terribly. dingus."

Ahem.

Anyways, I am in the process of thinking up some new short term goals now that:

2024 con season is over (with the exception of some smaller events)

Spooky Season is almost over (I like posting non-stop spooky stuff during this delightful time)

Twitter is going inside the toilet

Magazine troubles (more on this below)

I have met the famous man whose inspiration played a big role in both: a) getting back into drawing my old OCs after 15+ years (little round glasses are a bad influence), and b) getting brave enough to be on video after saying I would never do this for god knows how long. (secret: I watched a certain music video with one of his characters the morning before I made my own). BUT HE WILL NEVER KNOW ABOUT THIS AND I WILL NEVER TELL! I AM FULL OF CRINGE!!!

This is what I'm thinking at the moment, in terms of my next creative direction. I appreciate any thoughts or advice!!:

My OC art was an absolute flop in terms of gaining new social media followers. Bluesky seems to be a LITTLE bit better, but it's still early to tell and I haven't posted too many of my OCs there yet either. For the time being, though, I plan to get back to my Schoolism subscription assignments since I've been neglecting them for a bit!

good lord I need to flatten my stomach somehow, as I cannot fit into my preferred fashion choices. I quit watching TV for a while in the summer, which helped a bit (I tend to eat everything in the house while I watch), so I may try this again soon.

arm workouts are going alright I guess, I am gaining a bit of muscle in my armes so they do not look so much like noodles.

Tempted to get back into posting video game screenshots and mini-reviews on social media since people really liked this stuff, but I'm worried it might just add more to my plate.

I'm really enjoying doing videos now, I'm just not sure which direction to take them (or if I even should take them places). I tend to film a lot of myself and a long-time friend in the car just saying stupid shit, but I don't really want to post all of these.

I wish to read more books without falling asleep, jesus christ this is tough.

On a similar note: the magazine I used to write book and comic reviews for has SHUT DOWN GOD DAMN IT so maybe I'll write some new stuff here?? Not sure yet!

I need to get back to my Japanese studies!! I used to do them at lunch and dinner but now I get distracted by all the awful political shit online! Aaaaaaaa!! I really hope America doesn't combust in the next few days but I guess we'll find out soon...

Finally, I need to be more active HERE! It's the best place for longform writing and art that might be a bit too "cringe" for the general public. Let's see if I can stick to it!!

I think that's all I have to SAY for NOW. Wish me luck in sticking to my goals instead of spiralling into ADHD Twitter nonsense, aaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Tagging a couple frands: @prometheus-ghost @fadingdreamerdream @thewebspinner @autolykiss @draganwhorror

Also anyone who actually wants to watch my shitty ass videos, the link is below. I have a bunch more but haven't posted them! https://www.instagram.com/kittensoft39/reels/

[neccturtle]

TL;DR I’m not gonna hide online.

I don’t care.

this is mostly a vent to be honest, it’s kinda long lmao

sorry

tw for vague mentions of mental health issues. I don’t go too into it tho.

I spent so much time hating myself for being trans, so much time thinking there must be something wrong with me.

with my mental health being broken because of my own insecurities and fears. (which, again, I’m not gonna go too into)

I finally came out this year and received love from my family, and a few months later my country told me “no,”

“you are a defect, you are broken, you should hate yourself. because there’s something wrong with you”

and I don’t give a damn anymore.

I will still be myself. and I hope I can at least inspire one person to feel better.

I know I’m not much, I’m not gonna start a movement or change the world.

I’m just a young trans girl who naively thought she’d live a normal life.

but although a small one, I’ll use my voice. even if it’s just to scream. I’ll start making more content then I ever have, I’ll bury myself in it. It’s the one thing I can actually change, the one thing I can control. since there’s no solution to this nightmare but waiting for me, I’ll post my art, I’ll be queer, puerto rican, and proud of it.

I will not hide anymore.

I’m tired of hiding.

I love you all. please send me asks and stuff, Interacting with people like me helps me feel less alone lmao.

and before I start spiraling again I’ll just try to stay strong. for me, for my family, for people like us, and for my dog.

I’ll try to focus on the things that make me happy, on my art, my OCs, my little youtube channel, my growing style and odd sense of fashion, music, my love of food, the most adorable floppy ears and wagging tail in the world, the best mother I could dream for, and hope that maybe someday.

things will get better. ect. ect.

I’m not giving up, probably out of spite.

but I’m still a bit lost.

very disappointed in my country (like usual) but not really surprised.

I’m scared, but I’ll do the most radical extremist thing I can…

and live.

try to anyways.

I know this is a very big tonal shift from my usual content (which, on tumblr specifically isn’t much since I’m new here), as I’m usually way more bright and bubbly,

but I can’t really be that person right now, I can’t pretend everything’s ok. or that I’m fully ok.

I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to think.

I don’t know what to say.

emotionally I’m a mess right now.

I’ll take some time to process all of this (and post some drafts in the meantime)

but I just wanna wish everyone good luck, and hope we can make it out of this.

I’m not strong enough for this, but I’ll keep going for all of us, and because I wanna outlive that big fascist orange.

but for now I’ll just take time to think.

and brace myself for what comes next.

and probably start learning a new language.

love y’all, see y’all later, good night,

and good luck to us all 🩵🩵

P.S. my Mom made me go back and capitalize all the “i”s lmao

[be-my-ally]

Snowballs and Kisses

Hello darlings!! Merry Christmas! I hope everyone celebrating has a wonderful day, and everyone for whom it is a usual monday has a better than usual start to the week!! 

I have been MIA the last few weeks on here, but never fear I have been busy behind the scenes and hopefully more things and fics will be finished very soon!! I cannot wait for my little new year break, and *finally* catching up on all the stuff I've missed!! In the meantime as a ittle teeny tiny Christmas gift please enjoy this timeskip for my Splashing Around ‘verse to Christmas Eve 1960 and my shameless OC self insert of what I’d like to gift Elvis. 

a/n not totally accurate weather references: it didn’t actually snow in memphis in the latter half of 1959 but, this is fanfiction after all and it *was* very cold november 18th 1959. (I also cut a whole 4k of angst that will come out at some point as a separate chapter, Anita getting a poodle, and the colonel dressed as santa because honestly i just wanted to write and read fluff, but here's a warning that there may end up being more festive fics posted…a little late). 

warnings: 18+, smut lite; gentle fingering and references to cumming in pants. UNEDITED

Graceland - December 1960 

The excitement of having Elvis back at home for the festive season was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that it was his first Christmas at home without his mother. He’d not really tried to celebrate properly in Germany; sure they’d done the best they could, and he raved about the gift of a fully dressed tree for weeks,  but it hadn’t been the same as it would have been at home. 

This year though, Elvis seemed determined to restore the festive spirit. Perhaps even further than just restoration - an attempt to make it as bright and jolly as possible in response to both his mother’s passing, and missing the last two. He’d bragged to anyone who would listen about how excited he was to give out presents, his plans for even more lights than ever before; signs and lawn decorations.

While Louise was excited, it had left her in an almost constant state of anxiety, Christmas wasn’t just about the gift-giving… but it was a large enough part of it that it’s where her mind immediately went. From the moment he suggested they hang at Graceland that first year, from the first time they’d all pored over the letter to Frances, and his promises to “have a ball next Christmas”, giggling and whispering about what fun they were going to have the following year. From all of those times Louise had been preoccupied with what to get him and whether her secret plan was good enough for Elvis of all people. 

That first year he had reiterated to them all and was absolutely adamant no-one needed to gift him anything and wouldn’t hear of anything being sent over to him. But his frequent calls and mentions of the upcoming holiday belied his actual feelings and besides, Louise wanted him to feel special. Wanted him to know they’d been thinking of him as much as he must have missed being home. It wasn’t until the 27th of November and the slightest of snowfalls had occurred, tiny little snowflakes, delicately falling down when the temperature had dropped just enough for the rain to crystallise when a flash of inspiration hit her. She couldn’t send it, so instead she’d waited patiently, adding to her bundle throughout the months. Now that it was almost time to give it though she was second-guessing that two year decision. Was it too juvenile? It’s just so tricky to buy for the man who literally has anything he could ever wish for. As the festive period hurtles on she resigns herself to having to hunt for a back-up gift…maybe a nice sweater. Maybe that will do.  Or maybe it’s best to have options. 

Elvis’ melancholia about the holiday doesn’t seem to stretch into Christmas Eve, and he encourages them with all the enthusiasm he’s ever had. The party starts from mid-afternoon and stretches long into the evening and night with all the makings of an excellent time from the music to the food until eventually they all find themselves around the extravagant tree to exchange presents. It’s a little chaotic, so many people about and frequently someone’s having to dive from room to room to fetch people or hidden gifts. Louise finds it almost dizzying when she finally manages to take a seat on the long sofa, catching her breath from being sent to find someone. She was already finding herself struggling to think whenever she glanced over at Elvis - he looked outrageously good in a white shirt, black trousers - well, he looked outrageously good all the time at the moment - but there was something about the feeling in the air of the day that made it all the harder to act natural around him. Elvis had been quiet for a moment, but now he was sat on his armchair across the room, looking for all the world like a king on a throne ready to bestow his generosity on the peasants. Except, that’s not the feeling in the room at all; it’s jolly and wonderful, picture perfect - all of them slightly tipsy on champagne and vodka cocktails and finding the evening all the more entertaining for it. He announces he wants to give the presents that he’s bought everyone before he opens his own, and Louise dips her eyes when he hands her a little bow-tied box. No-one else’s comes with a ribbon and she strokes it, feeling a glow emanating from her stomach and chest as she imagines his nimble fingers tying it on, totally ignoring the fact that she knows someone else probably wrapped it for him. Still, she tugs it off to hide from the others - not wanting to be teased about how such a little gesture has made her blush so strongly - and tucks it into her palm, fully intending on slipping it into her shoe or around her wrist in a moment, knowing she’ll keep it forever - wear it in her hair like a declaration.

When she looks back up everyone has a similar box and she opens it quickly in case they’re all the same - she doesn’t want to ruin her surprise. There, nestled in a little velvet box is a ring, a huge, gaudy red stone in the centre, almost too big for her finger.  Louise is transfixed, staring at it, barely a thought in her head as she tries to wrap her head around the way it sparkles in the light. Despite the size of the gem, the band was more than a little small when she tries to slip it on, and she quietly puts it back into the box, not wanting to draw attention to her apparently larger than expected fingers. She glances around, suddenly coming out of her shocked obliviousness. Her face falling when she realises that everyone around her is unboxing similarly precious jewellery. She’s resigning herself to having to sneak it off to get it resized and hating herself a little for it, wondering if there are exercises she could do or maybe a special diet to shrink her fingers to size, when she suddenly realises all the other girls are turning each-other around, kissing Elvis on the cheek in thanks, or asking him to clasp their new necklaces. Louise looks back down at her box and the others. What does a ring mean? It’s been gifted with such casualness that it can’t possibly mean anything can it? When she looks back up Elvis is staring right at her, and she makes eye contact with him - her wide eyes meeting his laughing ones. He winks, and turns back to Red. She tries her best to distract herself from it, ooh and aahing over everyone else’s and keeping quiet about the little box clutched tight in her hand. 

Half hour later Elvis is admiring his own little haul, when he catches her eye again, 

“You forget about me Lou?” Louise cringes at being called out so publicly, 

“Of course not!” She looks around the room, at the large group gathered there, “No, uh, why don’t you, well I’ve gotten you something else….It’s a sweater. It’s not great really, but I… your real gift I’ve made you, but,” She swallows building her courage, unsure why she’s so nervous suddenly when she’d been so excited for so long; the whole idea just seemed juvenile and silly now. “… you’ve gotta follow me for it.” He stares into her eyes for a second, before nodding and standing up, gesturing at her as if to say ‘lead the way’. 

He grins at the boys when they walk out, making a salacious movement as if to suggest her gift may not be all too family-friendly to accompanying guffaws of laughter. She ignores it, even as her tummy churns; should she be offering that? Is that what he wants these days?

“Don’t laugh.” She asks nervously as they walk into the little pantry. Elvis looks bemused to find himself there, leaning against the wall of the tiny space 

“I won’t” Louise nods, shutting the door, only to hear Elvis giggle, “You tryin’ to get me alone, doll?” 

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!”

“One hell of a christmas present! to be locked in a cupboard with a pretty little gal.” 

She rolls her eyes, wiggling past him to get to the freezer, 

“Close your eyes.” He obediently does so, and she reaches into an old box of ice-cream to pull out a Tupperware, “Hold your hands out.” And she puts it in his cupped fingers, “Ok…open.” He blinks down at the Tupperware.

“Um. Well, thanks, I’m uh, sure this will be useful.” Louise rolls her eyes, impatiently tugging off the lid herself, “Oh.” Elvis goes silent, staring at the three perfect, teeny snowballs balanced in the tub. Each resting upon a little piece of paper with Louise’s very best cursive handwriting spelling out the date; December 12th 1958, 18th November 1959, and 20th December 1960.  

The silence stretches as Elvis stares at the box, and Louise starts to ramble nervously,  “I was starting to panic this year, but at least I’d thought to pick some up back in January — it snowed so heavy on the 5th.  I think it was, or maybe the 15th? I’ll have to check my diary… so I mean it isn’t entirely accurate that it’s all from the 20th - but I mean, I had to have something and well I know how much you loved it when, when your mother… and I wanted you to know I’ve been thinkin’ of you non-stop while you were away. So, here, the first snow from the garden from every year you missed.” Elvis is still staring at the box, one finger poking each little round ball. 

“This really snow from two years ago?” 

“Uh-huh… I mean I don’t know what you’re gonna do with it now, but it really is… been in that box in the freezer this whole time…I hid it from everyone. Every time someone said they wanted some ice cream I panicked.”  

“Lou.” 

“‘M sorry this is really stupid, god - what are you gonna do with some snowballs, I should’ve gone in with the other girls, got you something really good… I just - well, I thought you’d like it and I know you misse-”

“Baby, I don’t, I don’t know what to say. I… I didn’t think anyone would think of me like this, like mama did, ever again. I - well, thank you, Lou darling, this is, well, its the best damn gift I’ve ever gotten.” He grabs her arm, tugging her to him - pressing a hard kiss to her forehead, the force of it surprising her.  “I’m gonna show everyone - c’mon - quick before they melt.” He runs out of the kitchen, leaving Louise to follow meekly behind. 

He shows them off like he’s a new father, proudly holding them up in the box, delicately picking one of them up and sighing at it, holding it up at the light for everyone to marvel at. It’s a little ridiculous in some ways - everyone in the room had been gifted something hugely lavish, and yet the thing  everyone was talking and gossiping at was a snowball. 

Hours later the party finally winds down enough that Louise realises she’s one of the last few stragglers of a night so late it’s turned into Christmas morning. How she’d ended up in this position she’ll never know, and she questions it herself as she stands quietly in the doorway, watching Elvis fumble on the piano. Just his fiddling is beautiful, little snippets of remembered carols, before he hammers onto the keys, singing along to Santa Claus is Back in Town. Louise can’t help the breathy gasp that escapes her and he looks up at her, smiling almost teasingly, perfect glint in his eye as he pauses for a second to run a hand through his hair before he continues for another verse and a half. He stops almost abruptly, standing up to stretch before turning to her. She’s trying to find the words to explain how beautiful it was, how perfect he sounds - how she can feel it throughout her whole being, but before she can express those sentiments he’s in front of her and grasping her hand. 

“C’mon,” He tugs her over to the armchair he’d been sat in earlier in the evening, “Over here hon, that’s it - you’re the last.” Elvis throws himself onto the chair, holding onto her, pulling her stumbling body against his. “You’re the last of my girls left…” He sighs melodramatically and Louise giggles uncontrollably back at him. She’d had an illicit two glasses and a half of champagne earlier in the evening; Elvis had playfully wagged his finger at her as she’d accepted it from Red although she’d seen him have more than a few drinks himself. She can feel the bubbles still settling into her tummy and head, fuzzing her thoughts a little and making her giggly and affectionate. Still, she wasn’t so tipsy she couldn’t call out his overdramatic behaviour. 

“They’ve just gone home for the night. They’ll be back tomorrow I’m sure.”  She shakes her head. He ignores her, crying out, 

“I’m all alone!” He tugs her by her elbow, catching her as she stumbles into his lap, pulling her onto him, flattening her wide skirt. It wasn’t really the fashion anymore but while she’d been momentarily hesitant about her holiday dress she wasn’t self-conscious, and she liked how it made her shape look. Some might suggest the bow and petticoats were juvenile, but it made her feel more adult than the tighter styles that were starting to become popular with her peers, more herself than playing dress-up. 

She snuggles under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, cheeks pressed against the little buttons of his shirt. He pretends to choke at her hair brushing his nose, using his free hand to flatten it under his chin and she grins, shivering against him as his breath tickles her skin. They stay cuddled for a few moments, sinking into the kind of happy exhaustion that seems to only occur on holidays. It feels different than before, although Elvis is more similarly carefree than she’d seen him in a long time. He’d grown up a lot over the years she hadn’t seen him, or so it felt, and his adultness didn’t match the image of him playing and fooling around that she had in her head. It’s an awful feeling, she thinks, that even with him right there, surrounding her, she still longs for a little more of the playfulness of the past.

Suddenly though Elvis shifts, interrupting her thoughts and murmuring against the top of her head, 

“Y’hear that?” Louise stops breathing, and all she can hear is the solid thump-thump of his heart against her ear, he waits a second but she can’t work out what he’s referring to and doesn’t respond, he gasps “There it is again! Do you hear it?” 

Louise shakes her head against him, frowning a little, “No?” She tries really hard to listen out, but other than the faintest hint of the music from the boys in the other room she can’t hear a thing. “The music?”  

“No! No, listen.” He puts his finger to his lips, shushing her,

“I really don’t hear anything Elvis.” He wraps his arm around her waist a little tighter, tugging her up so she was sat more upright on his knee, her face close to his. He whispers into her ear, 

“I think I hear hooves…” Louise frowns, 

“Hooves!?” God, it would be just her luck that he’d gone and bought her a horse or something, and she’d have to act grateful even though she was terrified of them.  

“Mmhmm, that’s right.” His hand rises up to brush across her back gently, fingertips dancing around her side, “Hooves. Hooves and bells.” He pauses for dramatic effect, jabbing his finger into her side in a tickling poke. His voice dips lower, as his arm squeezes around her, “Someone must have been a good girl this year.” 

Louise grins when she realises what he’s implying and couldn’t bring herself not to play along. 

“…You think it’s Santa Claus?!” 

“Hmm, definitely…who else would it be, on the roof with hooves and bells on Christmas eve?” She giggles, both in response to his kind-natured teasing and his fingers poking her side with an exaggerated motion.

“Oh, I wonder what he’ll leave in my stocking…” Elvis hums against her hair, 

“Mmm. Coal.” 

“Nooo!” She giggles back to him, “You just said I’ve been a good girl!”

“You’ve been a very good little girl.” His voice has hit that low pitch that immediately sends a jolt down her spine, right into the pit of her stomach and she swallows, trying to keep up with the joke. 

“Well, I’m, uh, I’m sure I’ll like whatever it is.” 

“Mmhmm….” His hand brushes up her leg, “Bet ya I’ll like what’s in your stockings more…” 

“Elvis!” She shrieks, playfully batting his hand away, he pulls it off of her, smoothing down her skirt, and resting it onto her lap for a moment. Louise feels her breath catching as he presses a kiss to the side of her head, brushing her hair out of the way and shifting her on his thigh so that she’s facing him. It’s almost a struggle for her to meet his eyes, she felt so desperate for his attention - but there was nowhere else to look that made her feel any less heated. His hair, god even his eyebrows were Elvis-enough to make her squirm. It’s only a second of him kissing her jaw, before she’s gasping for him, and before she knows what she’s doing she’s grabbing his hand and shoving it back on her thigh. 

She’d kept herself for him, even as it felt that she’d been playing before, doing it for someone who would never notice or care - ostensibly in general, but really if she was truthful - for him. She’d touched herself, hadn’t been able to resist the temptation, especially after his deep voice came through the phone - but the other boys, the boys in school, the ones with blue collar jobs and careers, had all lost their appeal whenever she imagined kissing them, and her imagination interposed the image and feeling of him, his slippery body in the pool, the feel of him in front of her on the bike. He was thinner now, even still, than he was before, puppy fat replaced with lean muscles. His face shape changed just the tiniest bit, perhaps unnoticeable to some, but so very obvious to her, cheekbones and chin more angular than before. But his lips feel the same as they did before he left, and since his return home - she’d expected they’d have lost their eager nature, but still she can feel the hint of desperation as he presses them against her jaw.

She gasps, rocking against him as he roves down her neck - a place no one else has ever touched, tiny points of pressure feeling like a heat was expanding across her neck and chest, matching the clench of her thighs. His hand gently strokes up her stockings before he hitches her up, capturing his mouth with hers and shoving her underlayers up to her waist in the abrupt movement. Louise moves with him, desperate to stay in contact with his lips and she moans in upset when he starts to pull away. 

“C’mon baby,” He whispers, “C’mon, Lou-Lou let me - let me say thank you,” He’s barely audible as he speaks against her lips between pressing bruising kisses onto them, “I just - wanna, wanna make you feel good, Lou doll.” She gasps out her agreement, eyes falling closed and her head falling into his shoulder as his fingers find their way to rub against the silk of her underwear. He shifts her again, balancing her so she can rock against his thigh and his hand, whilst also rubbing her leg against his covered crotch. Louise is almost surprised at the heat of him against her thigh, but her curiosity has no chance to be satisfied when he hooks a finger under the leg band of her panties, totally distracting her from anything but the feel of him under her and attempting to stay somewhat upright. His finger feels softer than she’d imagined, and yet, in comparison to her own the pads feel foreign, rougher and surer than hers ever were sliding into the wetness they find there.

“God, you’re so soft baby, so fucking soft in here, perfect for me, you been waiting on me, honey?” 

“Uh-huh, waited, waited so long for you Elvis - didn’t, I didn’t want anyone but you.” He groans in response, his fingers moving faster. Until he’s forced to stop, tangled in the fabric and he growls in frustration. Louise feels it go straight down her body, and her thighs clench, trapping his hand even more. He pauses for barely a second to manhandle her up, just enough to roughly tug her panties down enough that it’s now entirely her bare skin rubbing against his hand and clothed thigh, the fibres of his trousers almost giving her a friction burn with her rapid movements. He continues as he was a second earlier, but now with far easier access he’s able to swipe his fingers across her clit, taking her to the edge almost immediately. She has no idea if this was something he’s always done well, or if this is a trick he’d picked up while he was away, but whatever the reason she was grateful. She doesn’t even consider how they were still, essentially, in public, too distracted by his slender fingers to be concerned about her now partial nudity. The only noise to break up their combined breathy moans is the layers of of taffeta rustling between them, as she continues to rock against his thigh, but this all changes when he delves his thumb into her wetness, bringing it back up to stroke circles on her clit, gently but repeatedly running it over her. 

“Oh, Elvis?” She cries out,  

“What baby? You’re so - I can feel you’re close,” His own breathing is getting heavier, and he holds her steady with his other hand grasping her thigh while his thumb continues to stroke her, 

“I don’t - I don’t…” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, and before she manages to turn it into a complete sentence she’s shaking on him as she rides out her orgasm. He sees her through it, continuing to stroke her with the same pressure before rapidly shoving his hand down his own pants, roughly rubbing himself off to quick completion. She watches him closely, unable to do anything but stare as his own eyes slide closed, head falling back against the couch and mouth opening as he gasps out a high-pitched moan. It was about enough to make her shudder again against his thigh, the look on his face, his mussed hair, open collar and the noises of sheer pleasure. Louise finds herself bouncing on his chest as he breathes rapidly from the effort, and he holds her tight for a few moments while they both regain use of their limbs. Louise feels almost a little shell-shocked and she only really comes to her senses when Elvis shifts, wiping his hand on his trousers with a grimace and patting her thigh, 

“Gosh that was, I, um, thank you El,” He grins at her, clearly pleased with his success, and he pats her leg again, 

“Thank you, honey, for just about the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me earlier baby, it was just - I’m gonna treasure them snowballs forever, you’ll see.” She grins back at him before an unstoppable yawn takes over her face, “C’mon lil girl, time for bed.” She gulps, thinking about all the people on the house - worrying what will happen next, 

“D’you…where am I gonna sleep?” Elvis frowns, little furrowed line marring his previously relaxed face, 

“With me?” 

“Oh,” Louise swallows, “Um, I think my parents will be expecting me - you know, Christmas morning’s all about -“ 

“Don’t worry honey, I’ll drop you home at the crack of dawn,” He winks, “-gotta make sure the house is all in order in any case anyway.” Elvis pauses, “Or, or you could invite your mama and pops over. They’d be more than welcome…nothing my mama liked more than a full house - especially at Christmas.” He’s looking at her with that earnest little boy expression again and it takes everything in her not to just suggest she should stay forever, it was so absurd that he’d want her to stay, instead of the other way around. 

“Well…maybe I could stay. And, well, I mean, I could come over in the evening? If you swear you’ll make sure I get home in time -“ He’s quick to interject, 

“Cross my heart darling,” She hums at him, and he motions the crossing of his heart across his chest, solemnly holding eye contact, “I swear.”

“Ok then, I’d love to stay.” 

Somehow, and (despite his promises) to Louise’s surprise, she’s dutifully shaken awake and dropped off home, albeit not by Elvis himself, only a few very short hours later. Coming up the driveway of her childhood home it feels almost inconceivable that she should have spent the day and night how she has, and she wonders for a brief moment if she hadn’t knocked her head or something and just hallucinated the whole affair. She’s so in her thoughts that she doesn’t yet notice, as she traipses past the lounge and kitchen where she can hear her mother singing to quickly change, a new set of boxes under the Christmas tree. Elvis’ script on the gift tags declaring “To Louise, a very good girl, from Santa.” 

taglist: (it's been so long that I've lost the list for this verse - lmk if you want to be added, or taken off!)

@lialocklear @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @thatbanditquee @lookingforrainbows @whositmcwhatsit @from-memphis-with-love @missmaywemeetagain @peskybedtime @powerofelvis @dkayfixates @shakerattlescroll

[safe-from-sharp-teeth]

Ayo! I haven't answered asks in FOREVER, so it's time for some spring cleaning :) Also answering other stuff, like what I've been up to.

If you sent an ask and it's not here, sorry! I may have deleted it because the prompt required too much work of me and I wasn't feeling it, or I was uncomfortable.

Let's gooooo !

Firstly - where have I been? Work REALLY picked up in a way I wasn't expecting over the last...4 months? I was working double and often triple the hours I was used to. With work, vacations, random illnesses, and many video games I got a bit too obsessed with, this blog took a backseat. Plus, sometimes I get disinterested in vore when obsessed with something else. Sometimes, that lasts months, and it did this time.

But now I can confirm that work will FINALLY chill for a long period of time. I'm free! And more motivated than ever! Wahoo! Thanks for your support ALWAYS.

Next big question - when am I going to do more of my story? The one with Asyr? AHHHHHGHHGHH this story has consumed my life. I think about it daily. I dream about it. And yet I'm not as comfortable writing as I am drawing, so writing is a slow process that my perfectionist ass struggles with. I can assure you that there is a story in the works - and I am working on it at a snail's pace.

Okay, ask time...

@ponyluvesonic09 AYO maybe I'll make a full ghost pred pros/con list for you, because that sounds awesome! Kir//by is one of the silliest canon preds out there. Honestly getting eaten by him would be like getting vored by a vacuum, LOL. Galaxy tummy!! Imagine a prey floating around in one of those item bubbles all grumpy. Thank u for the ask, this is good stuff.

no. ( /・・)ノ

UWAGHHHHH I LIKE HER!!! Never played O/verwat/ch but what a gem!! I have a random fondness for centaur-like preds nowadays. She looks so cozy. THANK U I LOVE HER!!!

@tiger9o0 I have not played r//ain w//orld or know what it's about, LOL. Looks like a platformer? Man, I'm terrrriiiiibblleee at those. But whoever this is on the cover, I LIKE EM. A+. (That might not answer ur question shdjbghkjg SORRY)

@heimkoheimkofan LOVE THAT I GOT THE ROBOT ENJOYERS AFTER THAT ONE POST....YES yall are so right and I'm so wrong for just hard metal robot tums. I will rectify my mistake soon I PROMISE. Also oh! You were the one asking about stomachs other than elemental ones! IVE HAD THAT IN MY DRAFTS FOREVER IM SORRY AHHHH. I REALLY love your imagination with tums and you've inspired me to think of some awesome environments! THANKS

@fastfur07 BWAH?? Ugh I'm all over the place when it comes to art. Some pieces take 30 min (like the zangooc I drew at the top of this post), most take 2 days. Some really hard drawings like my wolf bat creechur from a few months ago and my shrimp from last year took a month. THANK U??

We're going back so far that I think this is about my naga oc (which I'm in the midst of redesigning cough cough). For him, he would never tolerate being prey, extremely unwilling bahaha. In general, I haven't thought much about naga or snake prey! I get the appeal of slurping up a noodle, but I just prefer human prey :)

@fastfur07 you fiend, you always give me the best drawing ideas. UNFORTUNATELY, I didn't have time to draw something for this one. BUTTTT....

(i've had this next one in my drafts for forever)

then i had a silly comic. I'll post the wip here because I won't finish it, so enjoy bahaha.

@blizzaria123-blog THANK U im rapidly melting into a puddle from ur words

@mrpotatomanversionsix relevant. i will continue drawing them 4 u

?!??!!??!?!??!?!?!??!?!? how dare u enter my ask box with this blasphemy

@sfwsillynoms WAH!!! you!!! I'm currently redesigning my naga oc but when I finish I'll tag you, if you're still around! And he can 100% be drawn with ur preysona :)

@mystorl i am SO late to this, but SMART. I like it. I shall give my lil guy this friend. I just want to let u know that I see this and it's wonderful and I will do something abt it.

I remember this ask made me laugh a ton when I first got it. thank u. idk why I find this so funny

@sillylilprey IM CRYING RIGHT BACK AHHHH this is an ancient ask, but thank u! hope you're still enjoying!

@terrytheinsane finally, the last ask in my askbox. I love it. You have been wronged with how long it took me to answer you. I have gained knowledge from your ask. THANKS

AND THAT'S IT!! Thanks guys, I hope to make you proud! Feel free to send more asks, and hopefully I will answer in a TIMELY manner.

Goodnight! And remember: Nice Vore ᕕ༼⌐■-■༽ᕗ

[feketeribizli]

✈️🎮🎶🐶💯 for Marci :0

thankies!!

✈️ does your oc like traveling, or do they consider themselves a more homey person?

well its part of the job so whether he likes it or not hes travelling 🧍‍♂️ he enjoys visiting new places see new things so he definitely doesnt mind :-) if he could he would cosy up in bed at his childhood room and stay there forever tho

also semi related: when he was little he was sooo scared of planes... still gets a bit irked on longer flights esp when he cant fall asleep... need someone by his side at all times maybe holding his hand too like bro youre twenty-one and drive fast cars for a living get a grip. grow up

🎮 what are three of your oc’s favorite hobbies?

this is the type of stuff i always forget to put thought into... an ocs job is to be haunted by the narrative they dont get to have hobbies

anyway hes lowkey ass at it but marci enjoys cooking! always tries to bake something when hes visiting his sisters (i think he should have an anonymous insta account for his cooking that has like 3k followers and everyone in the comments thinks its run by a british geezer)

actual hobby is like playing video games. when hes not sim racing hes on fortnite obliterating thirteen year olds in the gaga skin or smth

🎶 what type of music does your oc like? do they listen to music very often?

if i have my marci playlist done by the time im posting this answer ill link it 😭 its hungi retro he loves stuff thats from before his time. doesnt listen to music as often tho like hes one of those freaks who go jogging without music (nature enjoyer i cant fault him for that)

ok heres a playlist with mostly songs he would listen to but also some are there for vibes only

🐶 does your oc have any pets?

finally drew him :-) a bernese dog named berci! (because our berners have been called berci for generations now and because its cute... marci and berci 🥰)

ten-year-old marc with his new best friend!

💯 share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

for one hes kind of sensitive to smells and textures... (me projecting 😁) like he can only shower with this specific handmade soap because he hates the feel of shower gels and the smell of most bathroom products

he absolutely loves garage smells tho... bro would be sniffing motoroil for days if they let him lol

his one-year-old niece doodled the tattoo he has on his thigh! he got it touched up but wants his next tattoo to be a one to one copy of whatever his niece draws for him :-)

third random fact... he bruises easily idk that just needed to be shared. blushes with his whole body too just your average white man

[lucabyte]

Your gender thought type essays have made me curious about what your oc creation/development process is like! It seems to be something you put a lot of thought into and that’s very interesting (especially cause my circles don’t often go into detail in that area)

I'm delighted to hear you're curious!! I'll give as thorough an answer as I can manage, though it'll likely be a bit disorganised. Okay, so... I'm gonna use a couple examples for this, and since you specified gender stuff I'm gonna go for some where gender/sexuality are integral, even if in seemingly counterproducive ways (but that'll be the last few...)

So. The first character that comes to mind here for me in terms of like... A lot of thought going into their gender is Lavender.

So going all the way back... Lavender was made in 2015.

Spreadsheet puts her at the 13th character in the setting, creation-date ways! So she's Been around a while.

Part 1: A Core Idea

Now, why was Lavender made? This is the first step of character creation. Well, she was made to tick a bit of a box. I realised my only girls at the time were all tomboyish so I needed a cute girl. And this was 2015, so she arose in the form of a Waifu Joke. She was intended to be a side-character with no real plot ties, so I just designed a character as cute as possible, named her simply (Lavender Wafeu == literally Colour and Waifu) and was basically done? 7 months later I would make Mafioso to slightly further the joke, in that giving Lavender a girlfriend makes her unpursuable* as a waifu. This also gave me a stark butch/femme pair, and I recall around this era there was a joke going around on tumblr of 'Indestructable Lesbians' as opposed to buried gays. This kinda became their thing. Two lesbians the plot wouldn't touch and they wouldn't be endangered.

.... And then that was kinda it. She was a cute girl who was fun to draw, shy, and reserved in nature. An opposition to Mafioso's brash (but secretly a little nervous) demeanor. I would literally just liken this to flutterdash outright. I was basically just doing flutterdash in terms of their personalities.

SO: This is the first step to all my characters. Find a core concept, or more likely, a core joke. Lavender's core joke is a very rough and (frankly unfunny) "your waifu isn't going to fuck you" joke. But you can see how she was built out of it. And we'll get to how that building happened next.

(^ Weird 2015 era lavender with her total lack of emotive range and flat characterisation)

Part 2: Dormancy

Lavender stayed unchanged for quite a while, in this flat state. She picked up a few things, mostly little 'twists' to her character. ie. she could hold her own in a fight, is surprisingly quick to jump to (cartoonish) violence, and likes a good steak. All very basic little things, obvious "oh bet you didn't expect That" contradictions.

She didn't recieve much attention during this time despite me really liking her design still. Mafioso languished even worse in this era, with her mother Omerta picking up most of the development instead. Overall, these two were very, very boring. No amount of little superficial additions could save them from this.

But it... hints at something, right? It hints that maybe there's a facade somewhere, that maybe the perfect-cute-girl thing might actually take a little bit of effort to upkeep...? Hrm...

Part 3: A Fresh Perspective

So, sometime in 2020, I was finally remaking my 2016-era spreadsheet of all my characters from the ground up, since I needed to remove a lot of ms excel specific formatting it had in it.

And while going through, I was being helped by @samhainian, who I had befriended in the years between. And they remarked that I didn't have enough directly trans characters in the cast, to which I agreed. I had a handful of tokens at the time (Adder and Angel spring to mind?) but not many more, so we literally just went down the list with suggestions. And when Sam suggested Lavender, I reacted with confusion. Because... Wait. Is she not trans? But she's so feminine? All of my characters lean extremely gender-neutral in presentation unless they're trying to do gender on purpose...?

And this just, unlocked her whole character like a skeleton key.

I was making her do her gender on purpose. The reason she had those contradictions is because she's putting in the effort to appear like this perfect, girl-next-door, waifu type. Something that doesn't really work if she doesn't have girlhood to prove.

From here, her coy 'maybe she has more to her than cute girl' hints were instantly recontextualised as a thing She was Doing. And instead of being random superficial tidbits, they were Depth. And her cartoonish 'extremely mild-mannered and polite persona' suddenly became a very human facade.

So, she had a new core to build around. And her lack of anything going on before in terms of backstory suddenly felt contextual? She's clearly fresh new to this. She had already had the backstory of being a very young (about 19~21) person who had moved to a new town to live on her own-- Suddenly that makes sense. She's forging a whole new identity. Her polite 'never really talking about herself because she's an object for the audience to desire' quietness becomes intentional evasion. She doesn't have a backstory, because she doesn't want it to be any of your business.

And ironically, this immediately Gave Her the backstory she had been missing. Her wiles and hidden 'smarter than she looks' becomes so relevant as to be real character traits...

I already somewhat went over this (and a number of other gender thoughts, including my thoughts on my myriad 'cis but not' or 'nb in a specific direction') in a thing I wrote, woof, 2 years ago: (LINK) which was a ramble about a lot of my character's genders... In that I summarised Lavender's gender as such:

Part 4: In practice

Okay so it's all well and good that I realised Lavender is Trans Gemder. But that's not where it ends, because she finally became refined and polished to the point of um. Quadrupling her image count on toyhouse. because of Purrgatorio.

See, the other reason I was getting my spreadsheets in order was for Purrgatorio (the original flavour of it, the visual novel) and I needed to just do some general housekeeping.

Lavender, Mafioso and Ess shared a route in VN!Purrgatorio, being that I saw them as a triad of characters. While this characterisation of her basically did nothing interesting, aside from showing her fiery side, this would later become the basis for her being one of the first characters met in actual purrgatorio, where she, being polite and nice, and established back in 2016ish to be one of the few characters Chrome isn't a total asshole to--- She gets to meet Ali.

Now this is where I would say a lot of the real development happened. Right there, in action, in putting her to the test of real writing. All of her characterisation stops being hypothetical, and instead something I have to portray. And I found as I wrote, she grew more deep simply by giving her such an odd situation to be in. And of note, by having Ali be intimidated by talking to cute girls, it gave her the upper hand in the dynamic-- Really allowing me to show off her ability to lead a conversation, and her quiet confidence in herself-- as well as hinting at the thing she isn't quite so confident with.

It's also allowed me to start thinking about her sexuality, too. This is another thing that goes back to her flimsy core concept. The Waifu is generally a sexless being in their own right, having sexuality projected onto them by the narrative or audience. In fact, a lot of shounen girls don't get to be romantically forward-- both because it risks alienating the intended selfshipper-audience, and also because showing too much confidence and autonomy in their sexuality can be too threatening for the chuunibyo audience, who aren't yet comfortable with their own sexuality and-- wait! Look at that! Another part of the core concept I can toy with! Wouldn't it make sense, if she's meant to be a deconstruction of The Waifu Archetype, for her to have that confidence and autonomy? This is what 2015-me was clumsily trying to grasp with the whole lesbian thing... So why not just re-angle that into her being confident and forward. It fits with her new personality, so it works!

*oh hey there's that asterisk. I also realised she had chemistry with Ali! Given the way she is level-headed and rather logical deep down, her curiosity drives this. She's not going to pass up a chance to know a literal Alien... But it also further illustrates how badly Mafioso has been left in the dust by her. (She's been quietly tinkered with behind the scenes ready for her reintrodcution, but for a while, I was really struggling!! Like, considering overhauling her character levels of struggling!! But, we managed, I think. She's yet to be introduced and put into practice yet, but it's upcoming.) To the point where I've broken them up! At least for now. Mafioso needs to prove herself I think, since now she can't rely on Lavender being waifish and easily won over.

TO SUMMARISE THE MAJOR POINTS THERE:

Any joke/idea can be a suitable core, even if flimsy, you just need to find which parts are interesting to either double down on or deconstruct

It's okay for characters to take a long time to form! If you don't feel connected to a character they might need a shake up, but also YOU might need a shake up. Lavender needed a new perspective from someone with a different approach to gender as me, and for I myself to become more comfortable with Real Sexuality (ive literally just aged nearly 10 years itll happen) before she could really shine.

Following on from the above you basically never need to throw a character out completely. You should try and find what it is you like about them, or consider core, and perhaps try and reframe or refract those elements. A character might get demoted to non-main status sometimes, but why throw away that depth? They can hang out on the sidelines if that's better for them.

Sometimes a character won't feel done until you write them! You can do this with RP if you have the ability, but I wrote Purrgatorio instead, which is intentionally low-stakes and non-canon so I don't get too freaked out about writing it. It's a playground for testing characterisaton, and putting characters in weird pairings they otherwise wouldn't to see if something interesting arises.

SOME OTHER EXAMPLES FROM MY BACK CATALOGUE:

Lavender is a bit of a daunting pick, given that she's spent nearly 10 years slowly rotating in my brain, only to finally become realised in the last 3-4 or so. But I do have some more recent quick examples, as well as another giant thing you can read if you want to.

GIANT THING TO READ IF YOU WANT IT: I've posted abt this before way ages ago but I wrote up a whole gigantic thing on my probably 2 most in depth characters. It can be found here (LINK) and also has a longass diatribe about their genders, sexualities, and the core thing they were originally riffing on. (Which was like. a specific type of anime boy ship i was a sucker for, that I eventually realised I was making way more interesting than most anime i was into was bothered to do)

It's a very thorough look into my thought process, including ANOTHER diatribe on purrgatorio granting me some good boons of character.

OTHER EXAMPLE 1: ALI

Okay Ali is too complicated to get into thoroughly here, but they're another good example of a core idea spiralling out.

Core idea: Blank slate visual novel protagonist, so gender neutral and a bit of a flimsy everyman. No real name, only a default name if you left the entry blank. (Ali, a shortening of the canon surname). #FFFFFF skin to keep the jokey ambiguity and pink hair to reference Dante's silly red hat.

Twists: Canon assigned surname of Alighieri, implying them to be some descendent of The Real Dante. And they're in a VN so there's a spooky easter egg where you can roll a death screen that shows them as an ominous demonic Thing instead of a regular human.

The, VN!Purrgatorio got shelved, and because they were human instead of a furry they got shuffled into other projects. A furry version of them showed up in a different project riffing on the demon thing, making them a child-friendly antichrist with 2 siblings based on the tragicomedy masks. Then that furry version's stuff got shoved onto the human version who was just a half-demon kid in Creature Feature. THEN we decided they'd be half-succubus to keep the ability to shift between the sexes (referencing the blank slate gender ambiguity of the VN). THEN that became 'nerd who is freaked out by being a sex demon and doesn't like the ethical implications of their existance but is still kinda miffed that they arent Getting Any' who STILL HAD the antichrist stuff from the furry version....

(^ technically a completely seperate ali ive not done anything with in years lol)

Like you get it. It's a giant katamari of STUFF from all different settings. This is what I mean by 'you never really need to scrap a character'. Because after all this shoving them around into different projects and them accruing things (the 'guy who is really concerned with informed consent is a succubus/incubus' angle really informed them here, as well as deciding that they're apathetic about the magic sex characteristic changes.) we threw them right back into the original setting of Purrgatorio and it went WAY BETTER once they actually had some character traits!

But that core idea still stands a little. Not in them being an everyman, but in prompting them to become an altersex character when fleshed out, and in the way that they're distinctly still tied to that second-person-narration that VNs have, and the eventual 4th wall break they got in the VN informed their powerset as 'narrative manipulator'.

also as a note here: DON'T BE AFRAID TO PLAY WHILE YOUR SETTING ISN'T DONE!

VN!Purrgatorio got shelved because I redid a bunch of MYMK's setting when I was finishing it up. But It was worth it even unfinished.

Ali themselves when in Current!Purrgatorio has spent, up until very recently, their whole time with their home setting (Creature Feature) in a state of being deeply unfinished and in need of a reshake. It's finally getting that now, but it was still fine for me to reference what I knew likely wouldn't be changing! They were able to function just fine without their home setting being solid for upwards of 2-3 years. Obviously this shouldn't be done for *finished* works, but when you're just playing, like I am with Purrgatorio, it's okay to keep things fluid and effectively quietly retcon things later.

OTHER EXAMPLE 2: PEACH TRACY

Peach tracy is an actually recent character, and is under @samhainian's purview, as with the rest of Moraine. Now, she was made with a very distinct gender/sexuality in mind, unlike a lot of my characters who stumble ass-backwards into one.

Peach is the 'token girl' of her group (the other two being Red, a closeted and unaware transfem, and Toyon a he/him butch.) and well, her gender is basically "tik tok girlie", as is her core concept. She only works if she's a pampered cisgender straight girl from a rich background. She's nice! But she's privileged.

Her twist however, is that she is wracked by the guilt of her and her group letting a friend take the fall for an Illegal Youtube Prank to save their own skin, and as such her entire character unravels from there.

Because she has all this guilt, it stands that her Girliepop Persona must be somewhat constructed. She's leaning in to the femininity as a shield and a deflector. She's, y'know, a white girl.

So her gender ends up being overperformed, and she's petrified of expressing her sexuality due to it being tied up in this image of purity. She's the exact type of person to psyche herself out into believing those 'having a crush on your friend is problematic' tumblr posts.

But none of this would really work if she did not start as a (white) girl, able to use that shield. If she were a dude or nonwhite-coded she would not have the ability to react to her situation that way. Ergo, she is actually built out of her identity this way.

(As for her sexuality, she is unhealthily self-flagellating about it, so it ends up just being unpleasant. This was a genuine surprise to myself and @samhainian when we were discussing it. We hadn't thought about it prior to starting some lighthearted riffing about assigning characters kinks literally bc we were bored when we had the horrifying realisation that Peach would not be safe about this shit AT ALL due to a lack of self preservation and way more ambient suicidality than we realised she had until we dug here. We quickly resurfaced from the joke conversation into an actual deconstruction of how she's internalised a lot of blame and decided to go distinctly carceral with it for herself. so there's another tip: Even if you aren't making nsfw content, poking around a character's sexuality will sometimes reveal raw truths that come from sexuality being very vulnerable by default.)

Peach is overall an interesting contrast to Lavender, since they're both Girls Being Feminine On Purpose, but one is transfem and one is. Well god idk what peach will end up but she'll need to unpack it.

(I note that peach is white also, since while I rarely intentionally racially code my characters, sometimes i SUPER do.)

OTHER EXAMPLE 3: VIRGIL MALACODA

Okay because I've talked about a number of girls so far lets be brief about a fuckin Dude.

Virgil is like, some real toxic masculinity shit. He would probably be fucked up in some different way if he were born a girl, but he's distinctly falling into a lot of traps due to his upbringing as "A dude who was promised he'd get power when he grew up".

His dude-ness is a very flat fact to me in that way, and he's similar to Tabitha in that regard since it's one of the ways they're meant to reflect each other. Dudes who's place as patriarch-to-be saved them from being pawned off as a wife, but is still responsible for a lot of their misery. Certainly the better of the two options, but could still be better!

Virgil's themes of masculinity being a simultaneous shield and blinder is a simple one but I go back to it a lot because it can be true a lot of the time in antiquated social situations like, say, the upper class. So, being a villain, he does end up being a condemnation of the structures that disincentivise healthy masculinity. He's necessarily amab because he is the result of how particularly regressive views of masculinity can shape a child into a repressed and miserable adult.

Whether or not virgil stays a dude or not if he ever figures out his way of viewing power structures was Fucked Up and Bad is anybody's guess. It's not really Masculinity that was hurting him, so much as a rich asshole's narrow view of it. So there's no real reason for him to reject a healthier version of it outright, it's just whether he'll ever get there...

CLOSING REMARKS:

Okay writing in the tumblr post editor is starting to scare me with errors so I should probably close this out. But yeah this is a little bit of a run down of where my head is usually at when making characters. A lot of it is just batting jokes back and forth until they become something more solid, which I don't know that I really got across here.

Like, a lot a lot of my characters are built around a core joke. Usually what-ifs like.

"What if a shounen-type card game anime protagonist was just as brash and head-full-of-air as the rest of the, but a girl"

"What if Ed Sheeran had a cheating scandal with two tboys and it made the radio fucking horrible to listen to"

"What if a wrestler was really, really wide and also clearly into rubber"

"What if somebody took the 'blonde anime boy who barely shows emotion' trope seriously because that kind of repression can't be good"

"What if a guy was specifically interested in becoming a Soil Scientist from like, age 4, and never gave up that dream"

^ If you can figure out who's who then you win a prize (a kiss)

But yeah. Jokes upon jokes upon jokes. Assign them classpects and pokemon and put them into speed/power/fly formation and just joke for as long as you possibly can until you hit on something. And if a joke feels really right, or completely off the mark, try and dig in and find why.

Like. I joke about the sexuality thing but it does help since it's so disarming and immediately a bit childishly funny often. Sometimes you'll end up with say, something as serious as "Despite being friends with The Fence, Selene probably shouldn't be left unsupurvised in kink spaces because she ABSOLUTELY does not have the ability to restrain herself and not take her anger issues out on strangers" and sometimes its as silly as "even outside of being asexual, ess is never jackin that shit because if he got caught in any kind of mildly embarrasing scenario it'd ruin his whole year so the cost/benefit analysis of that really doesn't work out"

Because like. both tell you about the characters, and you can also read them more broadly now. Selene ruins relationships by letting anger at unrelated things get in the way, Ess keeps himself from doing even utterly harmless things out of deep social anxiety.

Like yeah, i got to them via goofing about sex but it's still character analysis at the end of the day so long as you put The Reading first*

*DISCLAIMER: im asexual im only ever doing stuff for the read lol . it might be more difficult if youre allosexual . or maybe itll be easier. i dont know just dont get too lost in the sauce. think with ur brain not ur other parts

ALSO gender and sexualty often end up linked so it makes sense to end up at one from the other a lot of the time. It happens.

And as an addendum if you wonder where i tend to literally Design characters? Like visually? It's usually at some point between the first few jokes and before naming them. Though sometimes names come first.

OVERALL: A character should have a core concept to them to start with. This core concept CAN SUCK and be flimsy, or a joke, or even a joke you no longer find funny. But you can always refer back to it when building a character up. If you want to capture the concept, work toward it, if you want to deconstruct or mock the concept, then do that instead. If you sour on a joke, maybe find a way to satirise or deconstruct what you're no longer finding funny.

Sometimes this core concept is steeped in a specific cultural thing, be it race, gender, sexuality, ect, and those necessitate thinking about. Sometimes it's not and those things can practically be an afterthought, but once you lock it in it's likely to begin informing the later choices as it becomes part of the scaffolding.

(To hop back to why you even asked this Q: I so thoroughly read Siffrin as amab BECAUSE they had so many themes about Not Having Changed and clinging to what they knew, and so working backwards from that it only made sense to me that they mustn't've done a big overhaul YET or made any big decisions about that YET by the time we see them in game, because that's what gels best with their themes of being Too Afraid To Change and being a contrast to Isa who has changed a bunch, and a comfort to Mira who hasn't changed at all in their gender. Then it was a case of looking through the game for more evidence either for or against this reading, and I found a lot of evidence for it, in my opinion. But I did so Because I noticed that the themes were Stronger if read this way, and because I conceptualise characters as themes and concepts FIRST it made sense to try and work back to those themes.)

But yeah. TL;DR:

Ground yourself with a Hook for the character, sometimes making it sillier makes it easier to think about.

Try and think about how they would be formed by the world around them, or what their behaviour says about how they must've been formed

Don't worry about things taking a long time. Sometimes a character needs someone else to make a suggestion, or for you to grow and change a little before they click

Putting it into action helps a lot, even if its just roleplay or short snippets. If you can't 'feel out' what a character would do in a situation, that's when it's time to think about their goals for how they want to be seen as a person (including, if they don't want to be seen at all...!) and what hard boundaries they have say, morally.

I am by no means a like. Expert on any of this. I'm fumbling through it all just as much as the next guy (AND... I'M ACTUALLY SOMEWHAT OF A HYPOCRITE. I THINK CHARACTERS ARE BEST SEEN AS 'NARRATIVE CONSTRUCTS' RATHER THAN 'PEOPLE', SO ALL THIS ADVICE BEING SO CHARACTER FOCUSED RATHER THAN NARRATIVE FOCUSED IS MISSING THE FOREST FOR THE TREES LOL....) but apparently people do Like my characters? So, what do I know i suppose LMAO

[pan0pticonn]

I'd potentially be interested in animating for the episode (and editing if it's needed, I'm not the best but I know how to do it) but I'm wondering what level of animation we're talking? Like fully colored 24 fps or just animatic-level? And also if you have any idea of deadlines and when it's starting? (I don't have access to an animation software rn and I'd have to maybe like fix that before we're starting and stuff perhaps ssjhdkdj)

There wouldn’t be a required level of fps or anything, I’d leave that up to everyone to decide for themselves, you could for example just do a animatic that’s roughly coloured in or a fully rendered animation w 24 fps if you wish to, depending on how much time and effort you’re willing to put into the project (: if enough people are interested in the project I’ll make a google form and a discord server where I’ll established deadlines etc

It’s more fun for everyone to give ppl full creative freedom and see different animation and art styles

I will start working on the organisation in a week if enough ppl wanna partake and the google form and discord server should be up in 2-3 weeks so we can assign parts etc

If enough ppl wanna be part of this I’ll post another poll about which episode we’re gonna animate in a few days

Animation takes a while and you always have to plan for some people to drop out + editing the final project will also take some time so I’d aim to finish the project by the end of the year or Jan / Feb next year, if we get done earlier that’s great but I don’t want to stress anyone about deadlines lol

Other than the main animation I’d ask of everyone who takes part in this project to draw themselves or an OC as an avatar of any of the fear to put that into the end credits (:

[someprettyname]

Lore time! (If it sounds bad I'm sorry)

Annual school fest in Osaka which will determine who'll represent the prefecture, right? Held at my school for a week (arts and sports together) while I was a high school first year. I was in for a debate competition (let me dream about being confident enough) and versification (Not kidding, I actually competed for poetry within my state and was SO close to getting a rank I was sobbing), but that wasn't till the third and fourth days, so I decided to just randomly walk about the school, maybe watch some programmes. Two days went like that, then the third day, when the soccer games would begin, I ended up running into our favorite crow boy who thought I was a soccer teammate of his (also from India, an OC). Took him a while to realize I wasn't a guy, but I assured him that I preferred being referred to as a guy. Then we talked and stuff, and he revealed the team had come individually, so he was trying to find them because they'd already found each other. So I went alongside him, searching the whole school together with him. In the meantime, we chatted a lot, casual and deep, and I'd felt like I'd clicked with somebody despite being an introvert. But then we finally spotted one of his teammates there, and we just sorta–

"Oh yeah, that's him there."

"Alright, well... so, I guess this is goodbye."

"Nah. You got a debate today, no? 'M gonna be there, 'cause I need to see you ace it. *Don't* sweat the small stuff, 'cause you're pretty fucking capable. Think of them as like plants or something."

And then he just pats me on the back and leaves. Just like that. Anyway, so in that daze, I somehow do participate in the debate (we narrowly won, by the way). And then I get off the stage, only to meet his smirking face. "Ya did good for all that panicking earlier."

I scoffed and decided to walk off casually, but then I tripped over my own feet (being the clumsy shit I am) and ended up spraining my ankle. And this guy– he literally took initiative so fast, catching me just before I fell completely, asking me if I were okay, before supporting me and walking me till the infirmary somehow (thankfully it was right down the corridor). He stayed with me the entire time basically, I got my foot bandaged up, then he again offered me support to walk around. I asked him when his game was, because I remember him saying his team would play the starting game.

And I'm telling you, never have I seen a guy run so fast. He just yelled a "Stay safe" to me and ran. I laughed so much that day. Anyway, that was the first part of it. After the game was done and stuff, he ended up coming to me to a say a bye, whether I'd be there the next days or not. I assured him I would, then he left with a grin.

Now, timeskip to the final day, we talked during the times we had free, I recited him some of the things I'd written, he talked about his interests during the days. We made a bet that if his team won, I'd owe him a favor and if my school's won, he owed me one. We could ask for anything that wasn't too much. Unfortunately, his team ended up winning. Fortunately, however, what he did was he only talked to me just before leaving;

"Ya owe me something, sweets."

"Ugh. Damn you."

"Mhm, deal's a deal. Here's what it is."

He handed me a folded piece of paper and abruptly went to the car where his parents were waiting for him to come. I opened the paper cause I was too nervous to ask him. Nothing much. Just his number and a note underneath it.

"Because your ass doesn't know how to text without panicking, call me. Plus, wanna hear that cute laugh of yours more. And I'm preeettty sure you like my voice, you kept spacing out while I talked."

Didn't get to grin at him– he'd left by then. So I called him right there and then. Still remember his smug voice that evening. What a cocky piece of shit that I had developed a crush on.

Anyway, that's how it started. We'd video call almost every other day. My family got used to me talking about him, they liked him pretty well. Same with his. About a year passed like that, then like, when we were passing into our third year, he just called me up one Sunday, and asked me if he could send one of my poems to confess to this guy that he had a feeling liked him back. I felt this weird tightness in my chest, but I said okay, deciding I'd ask the details after. Then, I got a notification on my phone. Checked it. One of the poems I'd written, sent right back to me, with an extra message underneath, "Wanted this to be the first text."

I agreed, by the way.

Oh em geeeeee gon do my commentary as I read tehhehe

"Think of them as like plants or something." <- Bahhahahja i cracked up

And then I get off the stage, only to meet his smirking face. "Ya did good for all that panicking earlier." <- tell me you crumbled down on the inside

And I'm telling you, never have I seen a guy run so fast. He just yelled a "Stay safe" to me and ran. <- AYO SUS 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 was he blushing?

"Ya owe me something, sweets." "Ugh. Damn you." (<- I know you were blushing) "Mhm, deal's a deal. Here's what it is." <- GUHHHHH YOU'RE BOTH SO CUTE IM GONNA GO CHOMP CHOMP

"And I'm preeettty sure you like my voice, you kept spacing out while I talked." <- KARASU YOU BITCH BOYYYYY nice move

URFGHSHHSJSIIAHSHSJNS GAHHHHHH THIS IS SO ?!!!?!?!?!?!?

Oh my god this is so cuteeeeeeee how long have you both been together now?

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interview

Thanks to @bloodmoonloveletter here, @mk-writes-stuff here, @illarian-rambling here, and @elsie-writes here!

Last did Wade here.

Doing Jazlyn now because I don't talk about her enough and I'd like to develop her character more!

Are you named after anyone?

“Nope. The one and only, girl. I'm just Jazlyn!”

When was the last time you cried?

“Oh, pfft! I don't cry. Maybe out of sheer boredom listening to Dr. Ass-ghar ramble on about her rules and how I'm not following them! Like, girl, I can't help that I have fire powers and lit something on fire! That would be like getting mad that Gabe got a little dirty. Oh, and her meetings are the wooorst. Yeah crying for my life in there.” [It was during Ewan's clarinet solo actually]

Do you have kids?

“Girl, what? I'm not even eighteen yet! Close... I'd love kids, honestly. A lot of them! I'd have so much fun with them!”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“Look, I know I come across as someone who uses sarcasm, but I'd rather just flat out say what I'm thinking. Why be like ‘wow that was so riveting’ when I could say, ‘this is the most boring crap I have ever seen in my entire life’? So much easier, no mental hoops. Besides, Ewan is the most oblivious to sarcasm I have ever seen.”

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

“Their confidence level. I can usually tell how someone feels about themselves based on how they stand. Posture is the key, but also what they're doing with their hands.”

What’s your eye colour?

“Brown. With some golden flecks when the light hits them right, according to Ewan.”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Easy, scary movies. This question is stupid - they aren't opposites. However, nothing is more fun than a horror movie. Love getting the blood pumping. Yelling at the characters for being massive dummies is also the best. Horror is the most entertaining to watch with others. Ewan thank the Lord is also a horror enthusiast. We make a habit to have at least one or two horror movie nights a month.”

Any special talents?

“Oh, several. I am pretty athletic. Took cheerleading a while back and now I am on my high school basketball team. At first, I wasn't sure I would like basketball - my coach in middle school pulled me aside and recommended it due to my height, but I love it now. I am also getting pretty good at learning archery. Lighting the arrows on fire makes that more exciting. I am also pretty good at martial arts and my pyrokinesis. Working on breathing fire without burning my throat. Thank the Lord I have Wade to heal me so I can try again!”

Where were you born?

“I was born in flippin' Utah. I know--lily white state, you'd never guess. Ewan and I plan to move somewhere else once we can. Can you believe he was born in Alium? That ain't fair.”

Do you have any pets?

“Ewan and I plan to one day get a dog. We have been planning on moving in together for a while.”

What sort of sports do you play?

“Like I said, basketball. I would love to learn how to play this Alii fireball sport. It's very similar to basketball, but pyrokinetics pass around fire. That sounds like so much fun, man. Did you know they have to keep a healer at each game because not all pyrokinetics are immune to fire? And the audience can get hit too if they're not careful! This sounds like such a fun sport.”

How tall are you?

“I have finally passed six-foot-three. Alii heights are a blessing and a curse.”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“I hope you tell me PE counts as a subject cause I ain't saying anything else. School sucks, girl. I have gotten detention for the lamest reasons imaginable.”

What is your dream job?

“I would love to be in sales. Something about convincing people to do what I want is inticing. Planning on getting a marketing degree when I go to college next year.”

Tagging @leahnardo-da-veggie @eccaiia @mysticstarlightduck @monstrouswrites @mrbexwrites @gottestod-writes @willtheweaver @winterandwords @i-can-even-burn-salad @elizaellwrites @chauceryfairytales @somethingclevermahogony @faeriecinna + anyone else who wants to!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

Blanks below the cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

^for an easy copy and paste

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~ Chapter 36 ~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut, language , gore.

Word Count: 2,790

A/N: Sorry I’ve been kinda MIA this week. I’ve been busier than normal and it’s looking like it might stay that way for a while. I might only be able to post on weekends now, so maybe only once or twice a week but it will be weekly updates, I promise! Happy reading! ♥️

A few days later, the case was finally wrapped up. Dean and Sam had tracked down the source of the murders to a witch performing some sort of twisted blood ritual. It hadn’t been an easy hunt, but they managed to take her down before more lives were lost. Now, with the job behind them, they were back on the road, heading toward the bunker.

The drive back was quiet, both brothers tired from the last few days of chaos. The familiar rumble of the Impala was the only sound for a long stretch of highway, until Dean finally broke the silence.

"You ever think about age?" Dean asked suddenly, his voice thoughtful, almost hesitant.

Sam glanced over, confused. "What do you mean?"

Dean kept his eyes on the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel. He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but Sam could tell there was more behind it. "I’ve never been with someone this young before."

Sam blinked, his mind immediately connecting the dots. He leaned back in his seat, his brow furrowing slightly. "You’re talking about Natalie."

Dean gave a quick nod, his lips pressing into a thin line. He wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about this kind of thing, but with everything going on in his head lately, it was hard to ignore. "Yeah. I mean, she’s not a kid or anything, but there’s a pretty big age gap between us. She hasn’t even hit her 30s yet."

Sam considered this for a moment, trying to gauge where Dean was coming from. He could tell his brother was wrestling with something deeper here. "You’re worried about the age difference?"

Dean sighed, finally glancing at Sam. "It’s more than that. It’s just... I’ve been through a lot more, seen a lot more. Hell, I’ve done a lot more. I’m not some wide-eyed kid anymore, and she’s... well, she’s still figuring things out."

Sam nodded slowly, understanding where Dean was coming from. "But she’s not that much younger, Dean. And she’s tougher than most people I know. She can handle herself."

"I know she can," Dean muttered. "That’s not what I’m worried about. I just... I don’t want to screw her up, you know?"

Sam looked at him, a slight smile on his face. "You’re not going to screw her up. If anything, you’ve been helping her, Dean. She’s not some fragile girl—you know that. She’s been through her own stuff."

Dean nodded, but the hesitation was still there. "Yeah, but she hasn’t been through what we’ve been through. And I don’t want her to feel like she’s gotta get roped into this life any deeper than she already is."

Sam paused, considering his next words carefully. "Dean, she’s already made her choice. You didn’t force her into anything—Natalie’s a grown woman, and she knows what she’s getting into. If she’s with you, it’s because she wants to be, not because she’s stuck."

Dean sighed again, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly. "It’s just... I never planned for this. Not with someone her age. I guess I don’t want her to wake up one day and realize she’s wasting her time with some guy who’s too old and too broken to give her what she deserves."

Sam’s expression softened, understanding more clearly now where Dean’s insecurities were coming from. "Dean, if she’s with you, it’s because she sees you. The real you. And she’s okay with it. It’s not about your past or how many years separate you—it’s about how you treat each other."

Dean was quiet for a moment, letting Sam’s words sink in. He had never been the kind of guy to think about settling down, and he sure as hell never thought about whether or not someone younger would be interested in him long-term. But with Natalie, things were different. He cared about her in a way he hadn’t expected, and that scared him.

"I don’t know, man," Dean said finally. "I just don’t want to mess this up."

"You won’t," Sam replied, his voice firm. "You care about her, and she cares about you. That’s enough to figure out the rest."

Dean glanced at his brother, offering a small, grateful nod. Sam always had a way of cutting through the noise, of seeing things clearer than Dean could sometimes.

The Impala continued to hum down the highway, the quiet returning for a while as they both mulled over the conversation. But as they neared the bunker, Dean felt a little more at ease. Maybe Sam was right—maybe he didn’t need to have it all figured out just yet.

One day at a time.

When they finally pulled into the bunker’s garage, Dean killed the engine and leaned back in his seat, exhaling a long breath. It had been a tough case, and they were both tired, but the conversation with Sam had lightened something in him. He wasn’t used to talking about his feelings like that, but with Natalie in the picture, things were shifting.

Sam grabbed his stuff from the backseat and gave Dean a quick look before heading inside. "Call her," he said, his tone casual but encouraging.

Dean rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah."

After Sam disappeared into the bunker, Dean sat in the Impala for a minute, thinking about everything that had been said. He didn’t have all the answers, and he wasn’t sure how this thing with Natalie would play out in the long run, but Sam was right—she was with him because she wanted to be. And that was enough for now.

Dean pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found her name. After a moment’s hesitation, he hit call.

It rang once, twice, and then he heard her voice, warm and familiar.

"Hey, Dean."

Hearing her voice made him smile. "Hey. You, uh, busy?"

"Not really," she said, her tone light. "How’d the case go?"

Dean leaned back in his seat, feeling more relaxed now. "Wrapped it up. But, uh... thought maybe I could come by. If you’re up for some company."

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then Natalie’s voice came through, soft and amused. "Yeah, I’d like that."

Dean smiled to himself, feeling lighter than he had in days. "Alright. See you soon."

He hung up and sat there for a second longer, letting the feeling settle. Maybe things were different now, and maybe there were still a lot of questions hanging in the air, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to push her away.

Not this time.

Dean had always driven fast, and tonight was no different. The Impala roared down the highway, the speedometer creeping higher than it probably should, but he didn’t care. His mind was focused, sharp, and the only thing pulling him forward was the thought of seeing Natalie again. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to see her until Sam gave him that extra nudge.

Forty minutes later—despite the drive usually taking an hour—he pulled up in front of Natalie’s house. The familiar sight of her small, cozy place brought a sense of calm he hadn’t felt all day. It was strange to feel at ease here, but somehow, Natalie had that effect on him.

He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the house. The lights were on, a warm glow spilling out from the windows, and he could see movement inside—probably Natalie getting things ready, just like she always did. It made him smile.

Taking a deep breath, Dean grabbed his jacket from the seat and stepped out of the car. As he walked up the steps to her front door, he found himself a little nervous, though he wasn’t sure why. He and Natalie had been through a lot together, and after the other night, there was definitely something more between them. He just wasn’t used to this... to caring this much.

Before he could overthink it any further, the door opened, and there she was.

Natalie stood in the doorway, looking as if she had been waiting for him. Her hair was down, and she wore a soft, oversized sweater that looked like the most comfortable thing in the world. She smiled when she saw him, and instantly, all of Dean’s tension melted away.

“You got here fast,” she teased lightly, stepping aside to let him in.

Dean chuckled, stepping into the warmth of her house. “Yeah, well, I drive fast. You know that.”

“I’m starting to figure that out,” she said with a grin, closing the door behind him.

Dean turned to face her, and for a moment, they just stood there, the air between them charged but comfortable. It was different from the other night night—there wasn’t the same urgency or heat, but something deeper. There was an unspoken understanding that whatever had happened between them wasn’t just a fleeting thing. It was real, and it was still there, simmering quietly between them.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, his voice softer now, his eyes searching hers.

Natalie hesitated for a moment, then gave a small smile. “Better. A lot better.”

Dean nodded, stepping closer to her. “Good.”

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes warm and inviting. “I’m glad you came.”

Dean’s heart gave a little tug at her words, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The simple gesture made her smile, and in that moment, everything felt right. No overthinking, no worrying about the past or the future—just the two of them, here and now.

“Me too,” he said, his voice low.

They stood there for a moment longer, the space between them shrinking as Dean moved just a little closer. His hand rested on her arm, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the soft fabric of her sweater. Natalie didn’t pull away; instead, she leaned into his touch, her body relaxing in a way that told him she felt just as comfortable around him as he did around her.

“I was thinking,” she said, breaking the quiet but keeping her voice light, “maybe tonight we could just... hang out. Watch a movie or something?”

Dean smiled, a small laugh escaping him. “You keep pulling me into these movie nights. Not that I’m complaining.”

Natalie shrugged, her grin widening. “What can I say? You make good company.”

Dean chuckled, feeling the ease between them settle in. “Alright. What’ve you got in mind?”

Before long, they were settled on the couch, a couple of beers in hand, and Natalie had picked out a movie—something light and easy. Dean had expected to feel a little awkward, considering the weight of everything that had happened between them, but to his surprise, it was easy. It felt natural, like they had been doing this for years.

They sat close, but not too close. There wasn’t any pressure to make anything happen tonight, and that was fine. They both knew there was something more between them now, and they didn’t need to rush into anything.

As the movie played, Natalie leaned back against the cushions, her feet tucked up underneath her. Every so often, Dean would glance over at her, catching the soft smile on her lips as she watched the screen, her focus on the story. She looked... content. And that, more than anything, made him feel like he was exactly where he needed to be.

About halfway through the movie, Natalie shifted a little closer to him, her body leaning against his. It was a subtle movement, but Dean responded instinctively, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. She sighed softly, relaxing into him, and it felt so natural that neither of them thought twice about it.

“Thanks for coming over,” Natalie said after a while, her voice soft.

Dean looked down at her, his hand resting comfortably on her arm. “Anytime.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, they just looked at each other, the warmth of the evening settling between them like a quiet promise.

And in that moment, Dean realized that whatever this was—whatever they were building—it was something worth holding on to.

Natalie shifted slightly against him, her head resting on his shoulder as the movie continued to play in the background. She seemed at ease, relaxed in a way that made Dean feel like he didn’t need to overthink anything. There was no tension, no second-guessing. Just the two of them, comfortable and content in each other’s presence.

Dean glanced down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He cared for her—a lot more than he had initially expected. Natalie had wormed her way into his life, into his heart, without him even realizing it. And now, here they were, sitting together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It had been a long time since Dean had allowed himself to really like someone, to feel something deeper than just attraction. But with Natalie, it was different. There was an ease to it, a sense of understanding and trust that made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he could let himself have something real with her.

He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t seen it coming, but now that it was here, he wasn’t going to push it away. Natalie wasn’t just someone passing through his life. She was someone who had become important to him, someone he wanted to protect, to be there for.

Natalie shifted again, her eyes lifting to meet his. She smiled softly, her eyes reflecting the quiet peace of the moment. “What’s on your mind?” she asked, her voice light but curious.

Dean hesitated for a second, then shrugged, giving her a small, genuine smile. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He looked at her for a moment, debating whether or not to tell her exactly what he was thinking. But instead of diving into the deeper stuff, he decided to keep it simple. “About how this is nice. Just... being here with you.”

Natalie’s smile widened, her eyes softening as she looked at him. “Yeah, it is.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, and Dean felt that quiet connection between them grow stronger. There was no need to say anything else, no need to bring up what had happened the night before. They both understood what it meant, and that was enough.

Dean squeezed her shoulder gently, pulling her a little closer as they turned their attention back to the movie. He didn’t know what the future held for them, didn’t know where this would go. But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t scared of it. He wasn’t trying to push her away, or protect himself from whatever could go wrong.

He liked her. He cared for her deeply. And that was enough for now.

The movie ended, and Natalie stretched lazily, still curled up beside Dean. The night had grown quiet, the warmth of the house making them both feel drowsy. Dean hadn’t moved much, content just to sit there with her, but as the credits rolled, he figured it was probably time to head back to the bunker.

“I should probably let you get some sleep,” Dean said, his voice soft as he glanced down at her.

Natalie looked up at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. “You don’t have to leave,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean’s heart skipped a beat at her words. He hadn’t expected her to ask him to stay, but the invitation was clear. There was no pressure, no expectations—just a simple offer. And as he looked into her eyes, he could see that she meant it.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright. I’ll stay.”

Natalie smiled back, her eyes full of warmth and something deeper—something unspoken, but understood.

They didn’t say much after that. Instead, they made their way to her bedroom, the air between them comfortable and easy. There was no rush, no urgency like the night before. Just a quiet understanding that they didn’t need to figure everything out right away.

As they settled into bed, Natalie curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. Dean wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt... at peace.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, this was enough.