#methinks i’ve written too much

[gothsuguru]

i need to learn how to write beautifully & with vivid imagery/good descriptions/engaging dialogue omfg…

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[runraerun]

AO3 • Harringrove & HellCheer • Rating: T • Beta: @dame-zoom-a-lot • Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Homophobic language, Implied Child Abuse, Neil Hargrove.• Tags: The Fruity Four but it’s Steve, Billy, Chrissy and Eddie. Fuck gender norms. Chrissy and Billy blonde bombshell solidarity, Billy Hargrove Centric, Platonic Steddie, Platonic CaliCheer, but Eddie is so bisexual in this it’s crazy. Lots of fluff but lots of angst. Feminization. SFW.

*Written for @harringrovekinktober 2024!🎃 I spun: Feminization at Steve’s house!✨ (even though this turned into Flufftober. I’m so sorry.)

Summary:

“Do my eyes?” Billy mutters around his cigarette, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“With make-up.” Chrissy clarifies easily.

And with that, Billy nearly sucks back the cigarette dangling between his lips. He coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. Has to fucking lean forward to catch his breath, feeling a lot like he did when he first tried that stolen cigarette from his dad at the tender age of twelve. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stray tears that had eked their way out during his fit. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the fuck’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Or, Chrissy convinces Billy to let her put makeup on him. 💋

“Has anyone ever told you that you have really pretty eyes, Billy?” Chrissy asks from across the fire pit. She’s tucked up under Eddie’s arm, their fingers threaded together over her shoulder.

Billy snorts, “not recently, no.”

He and Steve aren’t nearly as tangled up as the pair across from them are, even though technically they’ve been together longer than Chrissy and Eddie have—which automatically makes them the superior couple, obviously. But… he and Steve don’t really do the whole PDA thing, even when they’re in ‘safe’ company. A lifetime of having to hide will do that. It’s a tough habit to break.

But he and Steve are sitting side by side, their knees pressed against the other’s, and Billy’s got an arm slung behind Steve, resting along the back of the wicker loveseat they’re squashed onto. Steve’s even got a hand high up on Billy’s thigh, fingers clamping down every so often. Under the security of their shared blanket, of course. And that’s enough for Billy. More than he ever thought he’d get to have, if he’s being honest.

Eddie shoots Steve with a look of disbelief, like he’d caught him red handed at something truly reprehensible. “For shame, Stevie. For shame! You’re a bad boyfriend!”

“What? I—well, listen, I think Billy’s eyes great! I just—” Steve flounders before he turns to look at Billy, red in the cheeks. “I’m sure I’ve said something about your eyes before. Haven’t I?”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.” Billy shrugs, a little embarrassed. In truth, Billy remembers every compliment that Steve’s ever paid him. His chest, his ass, his arms—but never his eyes. Not that it’s a sore point for him or anything, it was just one of the things Steve hasn’t remarked on.

“Shit, does that make me a bad boyfriend?” Steve lets his head fall back against the meat of Billy’s arm and groans. “I’m sorry. Your eyes are great. Really! They work great too. Remember that time you spotted a quarter across the parking lot? Incredible.”

Billy feels his ears heat up. With a roll of his eyes, he growls at Steve, “don’t hurt yourself, Harrington.”

“I’m being serious!” Steve laughs, voice going high with guilt, and it gets everyone else chuckling too.

“Well, I think they’re a really beautiful shade of blue. And your lashes are so dark. Do you tint them?” Chrissy asks, eye’s focused solely on him.

Billy ducks his head, sort of hating this sort of scrutiny. He’s fine with being the center of attention if he’s playing basketball or balancing on top of a keg, but sitting here like this? It’s… weird. Too intimate. Billy clears his throat, “look, I’m flattered, Chrissy, really, but your boy is literally right fucking next to you.”

“It’s okay, she’s right; you do have really pretty eyes.” Munson winks as he takes another drag from his joint.

“Jesus…” Billy shakes his head and follows suit, though he’s just smoking a cigarette. Such is the fate of being the designated-sober-guy for the night.

“So you don’t tint your lashes?” Chrissy asks again.

“I don’t even fucking know what that means.” He mutters around his cigarette.

But Chrissy seems immune to the very clear ‘fuck off’ signals he’s putting out. She continues, “Well, do you dye your hair?”

“No.” He answers quickly, a reflex.

“Billy.” Steve says in a drawn out type of way and a tilt of his head. He levels Billy with a look. The little shit…

“I don’t!” Billy huffs, defensive as he readjusts himself in his seat.

But Munson smells blood in the water, clearly. “Ooh. Tell us what you know, Stevie boy.”

Only then does Steve have the decency to look apologetic, wincing, “I really shouldn’t.”

“Yeah because there’s nothing to tell.” Billy widens his eyes with each passing word in an attempt at conveying his unspoken threat. Steve’s getting dangerously close to being on the receiving end of a purple-nurple.

Eddie begins to chant, “Tell us! Tell us! Tell u—” before Chrissy reached a hand over and pinches his lips shut.

“Shush.” She tuts.

“Go on, ba–Billy. Who cares?” Steve raises his shoulders, trying to appear innocent. He pulls his knee back only to knock it back against Billy’s, urging him on.

Billy growls out a frustrated sigh. But at this point it was inevitable. And it was true–who the fuck cares? It’s just the four of them. And they have a symbiotic, assured mutual destruction sort of relationship going on between them. Steve trusted them enough to tell them about Billy, so Billy supposes he can tell them about something as stupid as his hair care secrets. “Fine! Jesus... I put a little bit of lemon juice in my hair when it’s sunny. It bleaches it a bit over time. Happy, you pack of vultures?”

“Ecstatic.” Eddie mumbles out from behind Chrissy’s hold on his lips.

“Sorry.” Steve mutters, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He’s smiling and on the verge of another fit of giggles for Christ's sake.

“Well it looks great. It makes your eyes pop.” Chrissy leans forward, hands on her knees, as if to get a better look at him in the firelight. Billy feels like a damn bug under a magnifying glass.

“And popping eyes are… good?” Billy cocks a brow. Doesn’t sound good. Sounds weird—like something you’d say about Munson, not him.

“Totally!” She says in that high, sweet voice of hers. Then she gasps, like she’s just remembered something important, “you should let me do your eyes!”

His brows pinch as he takes another pull from his cigarette. “Do my eyes?” Billy exhales a thick cloud of white smoke, “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Do them up, like with make-up.” She clarifies easily.

And with that, Billy nearly sucks back the cigarette dangling between his lips. He coughs, and coughs, and then coughs some more. Has to fucking lean forward to catch his breath, feeling a lot like he did when he first tried that stolen cigarette from his dad at the tender age of twelve. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the stray tears that had eked their way out during his fit. “No. Absolutely not. No fucking way.”

Eddie perks up, “Ooh. The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks.”

“What the hell’d you just call me?” Billy croaks, his voice still a little ragged from his coughing.

Chrissy continues, ignoring her boyfriend, “You’d look great! I do Eddie’s make up all the time! I’m going to beauty school, y’know. It’s good practice for me.”

In a way Billy isn’t surprised. Eddie is a freak, after all, and the more time he spends with Chrissy the more he’s starting to realize she’s more or less the same.

“Thanks, but hell no. I’m not… like that.” Billy shakes his head, hoping someone would just change the goddamn conversation already.

“It’s just make-up, dude. It’s not a big deal.” Eddie says casually as he stretches his legs out in front of him, a boot propped up on the edge of the firepit. Apparently not caring if the bottom of it melts.

“You really let her paint your face up, Munson?” Billy asks, still trying to wrap his head around what he’s hearing. Because guys didn’t… do that. Queer or not, you didn’t—unless you were… and Billy wasn’t like that! The wires in his head are crossed, he knows that much, but they’re not totally fried, unless Munson’s apparently were.

“Like the London whore!” Eddie bellows out in a truly terrible British accent. “It’s all very Rocky Horror Picture Show when she’s done with me.”

“Jesus Christ… here I thought me and Steve were the queers.” Billy chuckles dryly.

“Hey!” Steve protests, though Billy’s not sure what about. They are queers. Card carrying, cock-sucking pillow-biters, the pair of ‘em. As fucking insane as that still sounds to admit to himself openly…

“It’s fun!” Chrissy exclaims, voice high, defensive.

“Harmless fun!” Eddie reiterates, voice similarly high.

But there’s no fucking way–

“I don’t like shit getting in my eyes.” Billy grunts out stubbornly.

“Now, that is true. He had to use eye-drops for a few days after he scratched his cornea,” Steve tries to tell his story, but he’s already giggling so damn much that he’s barely fucking intelligible. “I had to sit on his chest and hold his eye open while I put the drops in every single time. I felt like I was wrestling a crocodile.”

“Or maybe he just liked you sitting on him.” Eddie eyebrows jump up and down suggestively which only gets Steve laughing harder, nodding along like he was in on the joke. Christ these two are unbearable when they get together…

“Your lips then.” Chrissy cuts the two knuckleheads off, speaking directly to Billy.

Chrissy’s sweet, but there’s no fucking way Billy’s letting her do that to him. Just the idea of it is… well, not only is it totally bonkers, but it wouldn’t even look good. He’s not… feminine. No part of Billy Hargrove could ever even pass a dainty or whatever. He’s bulky, all hard edges and calluses and scars. He knows he’s hot, sure, but Billy’s not beautiful, even if Steve occasionally whispers it when they’re fucking. But Billy’s not stupid. He knows it’s just something you say. It’s not real. Steve doesn’t actually mean it. “I don’t…”

“You should do it.” Steve says, all smiles. His pupils are blown, eyes gone a little glassy with the high. “Why not?”

Billy narrows his eyes at his boyfriend. “You just want me to look stupid.”

Steve frowns, mouth hanging open in his apparent bewilderment, “Wha-? Why the hell would I want that?”

With a jerky, defensive shrug, Billy answers, “because you get weird when you’re high.”

“Sure, maybe—but I don’t get mean. That’s your thing.” Steve pokes a finger to Billy’s chest.

“I’m just gonna go get my makeup bag!” Chrissy chirps, already up on her feet.

“No–Chrissy, I’m not…” Billy tries to call her back, but she ignores him, disappearing into the bright Harrington house behind them.

“Don’t bother trying to stop her, Hargrove. She’s tiny but she always seems to get her way. It’s like her super power.” Eddie passes on his advice, but Billy just rolls his eyes and grumbles something about not rolling over like a bitch.

When Chrissy comes back, it’s with a fucking suitcase, not a bag. She heaves it up onto one of the glass side tables that creaks and groans under the weight. The boys all watch in fascination as she snaps open the clasp and it unfolds its sides, then unfolds again. It was like a fucking magic trick; the case just keeps getting bigger and bigger.

“There.” She says, hands on her hips, seemingly satisfied. “Okay, Steve, move your tush.”

“Chrissy, I’m not–wait, what are you doing?” Billy’s attention goes from Chrissy to his retreating boyfriend, who’s sliding out from under their shared blanket to stand.

“Moving my tush,” answers Steve, “duh.”

“I was thinking of red at first, but now that I’m looking at you up close, it would overwhelm you. Especially since you won’t let me do your eyes,” Chrissy explains as she plops down where Steve had been, sitting on top of their blanket, effectively sealing Billy in, “so maybe pink.” She holds up several tubes of lipstick to his mouth, humming as she goes.

The corners of his mouth pull down as his brows come together, “Pink?”

Eddie shifts to stand, slapping his thighs as he rises. “Okay, I’m stealing your man, Hargrove.” He threads an arm through Steve’s, “Stevie and I are gonna go see which one of us can hold our breath the longest under the water.”

“For the record, I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t drown.” Steve clarifies as Eddie pulls him towards the pool.

“Come find us when you’re done!” Eddie says in a sing-song voice.

Chrissy just waves a hand over her shoulder in response, more a motion to ‘go away’ as opposed to a farewell wave.

“Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed.” Billy murmurs, stone still as Chrissy holds up yet another tube of lipstick, checking the little color sticker stuck on the bottom.

She giggles, “nah, not when we have Hawkins finest lifeguard here to keep us safe.”

Billy scoffs, gets ready to argue about distractions and inebriated states when pop! Chrissy uncaps a tube of lipstick and the words die in his throat.

“Okay, hold still.” She says, and everything in Billy runs cold. He feels like his heart stops beating in his chest. His lungs solidify. He shuts his eyes so he doesn’t see it coming.

But the expected waxy touch doesn’t reach his lips.

“Billy?” Chrissy asks, in her distinct high, soft voice. It’s strangely soothing. Sort of reminds him of–... Well, another pretty blonde lady who helped him put lipstick on. But that feels like a lifetime ago, back before Billy knew to be ashamed of this sort of thing. Back when he was just playing dress up while the house was empty besides just the two of them. “Billy, if you really don’t want to, I won’t make you. You know that, right?”

And there it is; his out.

The thing he wanted and would have taken a few seconds ago, without hesitation. But… if he’s being honest, he sort of hates that she’s gone ahead and offered it up to him like this. Because now Billy has to make the active choice in this whole humiliating ordeal. How much easier would it have been if she would have just forced him? If it remained out of his hands?

But Chrissy isn’t like that. She isn’t actually pushy. No, she’s… Helpful. Like she could see something in Billy, maybe. The same thing his mom saw. Something Neil had spotted at some point too. Maybe that’s why his dad hates him so much.

Chrissy doesn’t hate him though. Even though he was an asshole in high school, and pretty much everyone hated or was afraid of him back then. But now that they’re out of high school, and Billy’s out out, at least to the handful of people here tonight, he’s surrounded by people that don’t hate him, even though they have every right to. It’s still sort of surreal.

And now Chrissy’s sitting here in front of him on her folded legs, with seemingly endless patience—like she’s got all the time in the world for Billy to work through his impossibly complicated shit. Like how actual friends treat each other, maybe. Billy doesn’t really know. The only real friend he’s ever had turned into his boyfriend, so his frame of reference for this sort of shit is probably fucked up beyond recognition.

But maybe they are friends. And you could trust friends, in theory. He could trust Chrissy, in theory.

“No, it’s okay.” Billy swallows, feels his adam's apple bob in his throat, “I don’t care.” He lies as he flicks what little remained of his cigarette into the crackling fire pit beside them.

She beams, looking like pure sunshine even in this dim, flickering firelight. And fuck, she really is too good for Munson; way out of his fucking league. Just like how Steve is way out of Billy’s. But hey, some people just had shitty taste in men, what’re you gonna do?

“Okay. Well, then pull your lips tight over your teeth–oh, not that tight. Just enough that they’re not–yeah, that’s perfect.” Chrissy instructs him gently, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t make him feel the sharp, hot feeling of shame at any point. Then Billy feels the distantly familiar smooth feeling of lipstick over his mouth. He’s already itching for another smoke, but that may just be his nerves acting out.

“Oh yeah, pink is definitely your color. Eddie looks completely washed out in this shade, but you have those nice warm undertones.” She says, pulling the lipstick along his bottom lip now, taking her time around the edges. It feels like she’s going over his lip line, but he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t risk moving his mouth and throwing Chrissy off. She seems to be completely in her zone. “Dollface looks perfect on you.”

“Doll face?” He frowns. Coming out of his mouth it almost sounds like a slur.

“The shade. It’s called Dollface.” She explains as she pulls back a little, and Billy tries very hard not to immediately wipe all of her hard work off on the sleeve of his shirt. “Can I put blush on you too? I have the perfect shade that would match it.”

“I don’t–... I don’t want to look like a clown or anything.” He mutters, hyper conscious of how different his lips feel when he speaks now.

“It’ll be subtle, I promise. Like mine.” She motions towards her own face and Billy has to squint to see what the fuck she’s talking about. But there is a slight peachy tone to the apples of her cheeks, now that he’s looking for it. “I wouldn’t want to cover any of your freckles up, after all. They’re so cute.”

Jesus… He’s never had this many compliments paid to him so fucking quickly, and all on things that no one ever fucking mentioned. Sure, he gets lots of remarks on his ass and his chest, but those were things he worked tirelessly on, spent hours doing squats and pumping iron. But his eyelashes? His freckles? The blue of his eyes? Those weren’t things he earned. They were just… him. Base model, nothing special, piece of shit with anger issues, Billy Hargrove.

But he nods nonetheless. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She repeats with a smile. She leans back towards her magic make-up bag and fishes out a plastic compact that opens up like a clamshell, along with a big fluffy brush. She swishes it around the pigment for a second before tapping off the excess in a colorful cloud. Billy watches her with an enraptured sort of fascination. She grabs a napkin, and a few other sticks of something before she settles back around in front of him again.

“The trick is to suck in your cheeks, like a little fishy.” She says before she demonstrates it.

And even though it feels stupid and embarrassing, he does the ‘little fishy face’ right along with her.

She hums her approval as she swipes the soft bristles against his cheeks. They catch a little on his stubble. He hopes it doesn’t wreck her brush.

“Perfect,” she coos, soft as a dove. Chrissy snaps the clamshell of pink blush shut and puts it aside before she picks up some of her dark pencils. “Now, I know you said you didn’t want anything in your eyes, but I thought maybe we could try just a water line? You don’t need to, but I promise it won’t go anywhere near your actual eyeball, just your lower lash line. It would really pull the whole look together.”

Billy frowns. Hasn’t he given enough?

Sensing his hesitation, Chrissy continues to plead her case, “it might just tickle, a teeny tiny bit. And if you don’t like it, I’ll stop right away. Deal?”

He hesitates, running his tongue along his teeth as he mulls it over. “It won’t touch my eye at all?”

“Nope. I’ll hug the outside of your lid, I promise. You just gotta stay super still for me, okay? And it washes right off. One lap around the pool and it’ll probably be all gone once you get out.”

Oh, right. Billy had forgotten about how he was going to get this gunk off. He had work tomorrow, and he couldn’t exactly show up at the pool looking like… well. Whatever he looked like now. Billy wasn’t exactly sure. It made his insides squirm.

“Fine. As long as it’s quick.” Billy huffs, readjusting his legs so that they didn’t fall asleep on him.

“Quick as a bunny!” She uncaps the pencil and leans forward.

Her hands are back on his face–only this time she’s pulling down at the skin where his eye bags usually form if he doesn't get enough sleep. Billy expects it to hurt, or maybe to burn a little, but she’s right; it just tickles. He flinches when the cool tip of the pencil initially hits the sensitive skin of his lower lid, but Chrissy remains as patient as a saint, and just waits for him to stop blinking before she tries again. And this time Billy knows what to expect, so Chrissy’s able to do a full swipe, left to right, focusing a little on the outer edge, before she moves onto the next eye and does the same.

“Now,” She murmurs as she retrieves the napkin, “kiss this.”

He screws his face up, “what?”

“To get the excess off. And it makes the lipstick last longer.” She waves the bit of tissue in his face. “Trust me, I’m almost an expert.”

Billy sincerely has his doubts, but he kisses the tissue, blotting his lipstick. It still feels like a lot is left on his mouth, but it doesn’t feel as… heavy. Sort of feels nice, actually. And when he pulls the napkin away it’s marked the perfect imprint of his pink kiss. If he didn’t just finish making it himself he wouldn’t have thought his lips were even capable…

“Do you want gloss?” Chrissy asks, pulling him from his fog.

“Won’t that ruin the—“ Billy points towards his mouth, “this layer?”

She shakes her head, sending her blonde ponytail into motion behind her, “No, it sort of just seals it. And bonus, it tastes like bubblegum.”

Steve likes bubblegum.

“Alright.” He says quickly, with a jerky sort of shrug. He’s already made it this far, he might as well see it through all the way. And it’s not like he’s going to do this again or anything… may as well go full hog.

So she pulls out a wand coated in the clear looking gel and does a final swipe over the top of his lips with it. It feels sort of sticky. And now that it’s sitting under his nose, he really can smell the bubblegum.

“Done!” Chrissy exclaims as she pulls her hands away. She holds them up and away from Billy, as if to reassure him that she’s finished with her torture. “Smile for me so I know I didn’t get anything on your teeth.”

And there’s no way he can give Chrissy anything remotely genuine at the moment, so Billy simply bares his teeth for her to inspect.

“No lipstick on your teeth. And I think I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.” Chrissy says, admiring her handiwork.

“Yeah?” Billy clears his throat, not knowing where to look. Eddie and Steve are still busy splashing and shoving each other in the pool, so at least he doesn’t need to worry about them. “I don’t look too stupid?”

She smacks his arm with the back of her hand, “You don’t look stupid at all, silly. You look great!” She then starts tidying up her makeup, putting everything back in its proper place. Billy watches her with the same fascination as he did while she was taking it out.

“Your mom teach you this shit?” Billy asks.

She frowns, just a little. “Some of it.”

He nods. His leg bounces. Resists the urge to rub at his eyes. The hard shells of Chrissy’s makeup containers clack together as she rearranges them.

“My mom used to—“ Billy mumbles, quiet enough that he very much doubts Chrissy had even heard him, but when he looks up, she’s stopped putting her things away, and her eyes are on him. Waiting for him to go on.

He clears his throat, doesn’t even know why he’s confessing this to her, but a strange compulsion seems to have taken over him. He feels the words right at the tip of his tongue before he can think to bury them back down, back to somewhere deep within himself. “My mom used to do this for me sometimes. When I was really little.”

It’s something that should be embarrassing. Something to laugh at, like the punchline of a joke. But Chrissy doesn’t laugh. She smiles gently. “Those sound like happy memories.”

Billy frowns—he’d never thought of them as happy, per se. More embarrassing than anything else. Something he can’t look in the eye. Billy ducks his head, feels his eyes sting. He should stop, he knows. Just shut the hell up. Because why the hell is he getting himself worked up over a dumb childhood memory in front of some chick he barely knows? It’s stupid.

And yet, the idea of not saying more seems even more unbearable than eating his words.

“I’d ask her to, when she was in the mirror getting ready or whatever.” Billy explains, daring to meet her eye before retreating to somewhere off in the distance. “This was before I knew it was, y’know… not something boys did. My dad made sure I knew it though, after he caught us. I didn’t ask after that.”

The truth of it is, maybe those memories could have been happy if they didn’t exist exclusively under the shadow of Neil. He can’t picture his mom’s smiling face without also picturing Neil’s disgusted one. Can’t remember how it felt having the make up on his face when the bruises lasted so much longer. He can’t hear the soft words his mom had whispered to him over the roar of the awful names Neil called him afterwards—the ones he never stopped calling him. It’s no wonder Billy’s so goddamn fucked in the head.

Then, there’s a hand slipping overtop of his, small and soft, squeezing against his rough, calloused ones. “I’m sorry.���

Billy feels a rush of emotions, but he’s not entirely sure which direction they’re flowing. Hot or cold.

Part of him wants to stand up and scream at Chrissy that he doesn’t need her fucking pity—that Billy Hargrove doesn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him, that sympathy is for the weak—and Billy isn’t weak.

Some shit Neil would do.

But in the moment, Billy can’t find the strength to do any of it. He just sits there and squeezes her hand back. So maybe he is weak after all.

“My parents were tough on me too,” Chrissy explains, keeping her voice low. “I sort of always felt like a disappointment to them.”

”You?” Billy scoffs, his voice frustratingly shakey, “you’re like, perfect.”

“Yeah, well, some parents are dummies. They get all upset when their kid turns out differently than how they expected.” Chrissy says with a tilt of her head. And Billy knows she isn’t just talking about her own mom and dad. “Dumb, right?”

Billy nods as he sniffs back any congestion that dared try and accumulate in his nose, along with the tears he doesn’t let fall. He blinks a few times, letting the air take them. “Yeah, real fuckin’ dumb.”

Chrissy smiles, and it’s like she’s beaming. Too fucking good for Munson, Billy thinks again as she stands, bringing him along with her by way of their clasped hands. “You ready to show the boys?”

A new wave of uncertainty hits Billy straight in the gut, but he keeps pace with her. ”You sure I don’t look stupid?”

“I’m positive. You should trust me, Billy. I’m like, really smart.” Chrissy insists, a playful giggle on the edge of her words.

Billy scoffs in response, but he doesn’t bother arguing. She is smart. Smarter than the rest of them combined, most likely.

When they approach the pool, Steve and Eddie are so preoccupied with staying underwater they don’t even notice Chrissy and him. Which suits Billy just fine; he doesn’t want to draw any more attention to his painted face than it was already inevitably going to get. They just slip into the shallow end and wait for the other two to come up for air. Or drown.

It’s Eddie that breaks the surface first in a flurry of splashing and gasping breaths. He’d probably catch his breath faster if he stopped cursing for a second, but Eddie’s got one of those mouths that never fucking stops.

Steve is the second to rise out of the water. While Eddie looks like a drowned fucking rat, Steve looks like he’s materialized out of a copy of Sports Illustrated as usual. His hair’s slicked back, but he gives it a good shake and briefly runs his fingers through the strands, somehow making it look just as good as always. God’s fucking favourite, that one.

Billy’s gotta look away because sometimes it’s even too much for him to take in.

“You cheated.” Eddie accuses Steve.

“Yeah, I cheated by not smoking a pack a day for the past four years like you have.” Steve snorts as he backstrokes to the shallow end, followed by Eddie’s doggy paddle.

“So he admits to cheating. I want that on record.” Eddie calls over to Chrissy and Billy, who’ve propped themselves up on the stone steps leading into the pool, patiently (or, impatiently if Billy’s being honest) waiting.

Steve flips around when his feet can touch, and immediately locks eyes on Billy. And then he just. Stares.

God, Billy really wishes he weren’t sober for this. That was sort of an oversight on his part. Hell, he hadn’t even grabbed a cigarette on his way over so he’s got nothing to do with his hands besides letting them hang by his side, his elbows propping him up behind him.

“Holy shit…” Steve mutters, coming towards him like he’s locked in some kind of weird tractor beam.

“Looking good, Hargrove.” Munson says as he crowds Chrissy, who doesn’t seem put off by the attention. In fact, she sort of lights up under it. So weird. “I almost couldn’t tell you two sexy blondes apart.” He winks.

Billy rolls his eyes, grimacing at the remark. He makes a mental note to give Munson a Charlie horse the next time he’s within arms reach. But when his eyes return to Steve’s, he’s… like, struck stupid or something.

“You kill off one too many of your brain cells under the water, pretty boy?” Billy quirks a brow, trying to give what he hopes is a sharp grin, even from behind his pink lips. “You and I both know you can’t afford to lose anym—“

Then Steve’s kissing him.

Actually kissing him.

In front of people.

…They’ve never done that before. Not ever. Not that they’d ever talked about it, but they didn’t need to. Because Steve and Billy didn’t do PDA. It just isn’t in the cards for them. And yet—

Steve seems to hear Billy’s internal struggle and pulls away, taking some of Billy’s bubblegum lip gloss with him, looking a little sheepish as he licks his lips. “Sorry. I couldn’t really control myself there for a second.”

“You’re hanging around with Eddie too much.” Chrissy laughs, and is rewarded by a playful bite to the cheek from Munson, as if to prove her point of his impulsivity.

“You just look so… good.” Steve admits, and Billy’s stomach doesn’t do an entire flip inside of him. It doesn’t. He’s fine. “You look beau—”

“Don’t.” Billy cuts in. He’s already exposed enough, he doesn’t need Steve to wax poetically about his fucking beauty in front of an audience. Even if it is just Chrissy and Eddie.

“But you do!” Steve insists, smiling, going all syrupy on him. Must still be feeling the effect of that joint from earlier.

”I swear to god, Harrington, I will drown you.” Billy gets his hands on Steve’s biceps and keeps him at bay. Steve pouts and whines.

Yep, definitely still high.

“Good luck, he can stay under for like four whole minutes.” Eddie mutters, still sulking about his defeat. Steve throws him a long suffering roll of his eyes.

“C’mon, let’s see if you can win back your dignity with a game of chicken.” Chrissy all but shoves Eddie off. He’s like a fucking leech. Though Steve isn’t too far off at the moment.

“You know I’ll never say no to having your legs wrapped around my head, sweetheart.” Eddie swoons and even Steve has the decency to balk at the audacity.

“Alright, you take shoulders.” Billy sighs as he pushes off the hard steps. He’s a way sturdier bottom than Steve could ever hope to be.

When Steve doesn’t answer, Billy claps his hands on either side of the column of Steve’s neck, hoping the hit’ll knock a little sense into Steve’s oxygen deprived brain. “Hey, you with me, amigo?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Steve finally sputters out, still unable to break eye contact, “Always, baby.”

Billy ignores the way it makes every inch of him feel warm, and fucking. Cherished. God damn. Harrington really is going to be the death of him.

By the time their game of water chicken has wrapped, Billy’s been thoroughly soaked so there’s not much makeup left on his face, save for a slight pink residue on the lines of his lips. It’s for the best, he thinks. It didn’t look right on him anyway…

But when Chrissy’s hugging him goodbye, she not-so-subtly slips Dollface into his pocket and pulls away with a cheeky, knowing sort of grin. He almost cracks a smile before Eddie is glomming onto him, insisting he also is in dire need of a goodbye hug.

Billy shoves him off before he gets too comfortable, and Eddie folds with a manic, downright deranged laugh that somehow, against all odds, seems to be growing on Billy. Will wonders never fucking cease?

Later that night, before going to sleep next to Steve, he puts the tube of lipstick into the top drawer in Steve’s bathroom. Knows it’ll be safe there, like every other god forsaken thing Billy’s given him—including his busted up, worn down, hardened heart—Steve always keeps whatever Billy gives him safe.

[honourablejester]

Thinking about homebrew deities for ttrpgs, I’ve been pondering deities that are not default humanoid. A while back I made a post about D&D 5e’s version of Spelljammer, where the Astral Sea is littered with the corpses of dead gods, and I posited what some of those vast corpses might look like:

“These are the deities of a thousand worlds and a thousand species and a thousand forgotten realms. They might look like anything. Shaped by the echoes of the god’s nature and its domains and its species. The dead sea god that looks like a vast alien whale, whose gut is filled with strange waters and strange creatures, and into whose belly the party must venture. A forgotten deity of knowledge whose vast skull now contains a calcified, crystalline ‘library’ with aeons of knowledge written in light onto spun fibres of crystal. A deity of madness, darkness and despair whose corpse is a labyrinthine maze of passages that leech will and soul the further you venture into them, a lingering undead malice that doesn’t want you dead so much as maddened and undone.”

And I’m coming back around to that now. Particularly the sea god who’s a vast alien whale, because space whales, but I’m thinking about gods that are not mostly humanoid figures a-la the RL Greek or Norse pantheons, but are fully alien or weird or just non-humanoid. (I’m including elves and dwarves and most broadly human-shaped fantasy races under ‘humanoid’ here). Gods that do not appear in humanoid form. Gods whose primary worshipers are other forms of life. Gods who are weird.

I do have a couple of homebrew deities that don’t appear in humanoid form already. Nuissas, goddess of primal darkness, who usually appears as a vast eyeless abyssal fish. Ket, the First and Formless, deity of primal evil, who as the titles suggest is formless and possibly doesn’t actual exist at all. And while I was looking at them, I did notice a little … A little mental bias maybe. Because both of them are primal deities. Primordial. The first and the formless. Nuissas is likely the oldest deity in her cosmology, the primeval darkness that existed before all things. Ket is the first and formless evil, the first malicious whisper of a thought a sentient being ever had. They’re primal. Elemental.

Which made me wonder … Do I consider non-humanoid forms to be more primitive than humanoid ones? Not consciously, but just instinctively? Looking at it, gods of civilisation, knowledge, invention, law, are they usually humanoid? What sets humans apart from beasts? Fire. Science. (Possibly also thumbs). Is there a bit of post-Enlightenment bias at work here. Heh.

Although, to be fair to myself, Ineia, my goddess of city and civilisation, is also a spider as well as a humanoid woman. But she’s still humanoid, she just needed extra arms for all the work. So. Not quite enough to count, methinks.

This is only an idle thought, I want to mull on the idea of non-humanoid deities some more. See what I come up with. I just wanted to note to myself, while I’m considering, to look beyond just the primal sorts of domains while I’m at it.

That said, I do still want a sea god who’s a vast alien whale with innards full of strange waters. Being eaten by a vast divine whale-god is just too entrenched an image, you know? Maybe also a deity of light and twilight who is a vast beautiful bioluminescent jellyfish. No, I’m not stuck on sea creatures over here, absolutely not. But if you had a waterworld setting, you could have a LOT of fun drawing up a fishy pantheon. The deity of invention and adaptation is a cephalopod. The deity of war is a mantis shrimp. The deity of trickery and hunger and malice is an anglerfish.

But even in a standard fantasy world, some deities that are not and have never been humanoid. A dwarven knowledge deity who is the stone itself, a vast tracery of mineral veins across the world that carry thoughts and dreams and memories. A deity of trickery and magic who turns out, at the base of all its million forms, to be a simple mote of potential, something that looks visually a bit like a will-o-wisp or a soot-sprite made of light, a thought given vaguely physical form. A forge-god who built themselves, a machine-thing of metal and magic that built itself limbs and systems and housing as it required them, a monument to self-expression and self-construction, function over form, with no care for the aesthetic sensibilities of lesser forms of life. A black hole that is the deity of absolute law, remorseless and inexorable and pitilessly even-handed. A deity of remorse and sacrifice and healing that formed from the regretful blade of a monstrous killer, given life and divinity by their final act of self-murder. Gods who are dark moons and balls of mangled flesh and rivers of space time and tiny trembling animals and perfectly mundane objects and abstract shapeless things. Gods who are weird and funky and abstract and just do not deign to appear in familiar form for mortals. If I must look like you for you to worship me, you are not worth my time. I shall appear as I am, or as I choose, and you must simply deal with it, or shatter, as you so choose. Heh.

Non-humanoid deities, is my point here. I need to think on it some. Heh.

[kingofanemptyworld]

even if your Pokémon AU is in little snippets, instead of a full fic, I will still eat up all of it UwU

honestly, I’ve been thinking of writing a Pokémon AU myself, as I’ve not written anything for Wind Breaker yet and it’s been a while since I’ve written a fic. Love that you wrote yours with Hoenn as a setting, top tier choice, im definitely not at all in no way biased.

do you have a direction you wanna take your AU in? Or are you just going with the flow for now?

for my AU, I’ve been playing around with the idea of Sakura being a daycare worker that recently moved in on the edge of town? and there’s been some sus stuff going on, so Umemiya asks Suo (who recently came back to town after being away for some time) to investigate the sus stuff. What is the sus stuff? Heck if I know, that’s as far as my brainstorming went before writers block came in with a sledge hammer. In this AU I gave Sakura an espeon and an umbreon, since they’re Pokémon that require high friendship to evolve. I very much love the idea of Sakura getting along easily with Pokémon and having a close bond with them; the whole “animals won’t judge you by appearances, unlike people” thing, yknow? I gave Suo a riolu, as Suo was gonna take the riolu to Sakura’s daycare to get a read on who this new guy in town that Ume told him about was like.

idk if I’ll ever expand on my own Pokémon AU, but I’m excited to read more about yours, if you do decide to make more of it :3

sincerely, wind breaker anon, who is glad that you don’t mind me being kinda shy on anon

originally this was going to be a made up region so I could play around with what pokemon were available and everything. but yeah now it’s just Hoenn with a few extra towns lmao. I couldn’t resist, it’s my favorite region of all time and it is where absol comes from so I figured it worked out fine.

definitely writing by the seat of my pants with this, btw. there is no actual plot beyond character development for sakura via friendships with umemiya, suo and nirei, choji and togame, etc. we have vibes here, sir. no plot (yet). which is also why the snippet idea for writing appeals to me more for this. I have more freedom to just tell the parts of the story I feel inspired to, rather than locking myself into a specific plot I have to follow and pass a certain word count.

oh I adore your idea already!!! Daycare worker sakura is precious, and yes, I’m in total agreement about him having an umbreon and espeon. his entire team minus absol in my au is pokemon that evolve via friendship 😂 so like, clearly I’m trying to get a message across to sakura. but also also, yesss the pokemon have no reason to judge sakura and that’s why he bonds with them, that’s perfect. with mine it’s less that the pokemon aren’t ready to evolve (pretty much all of them are) but they’re like. holding back on evolution because sakura’s not in the right place to understand that they love him and that he’s been treating them so so well as their trainer. so vague plan is evolutions during key moments in his character journey.

suo with a role 😍😍😍 I couldn’t resist mienshao but Riolu is an excellent choice, very fitting for our mystery man who takes down opponents without breaking a sweat. Will absolutely read the shit out of this if you post anything.

I really wanna do more for this au! Definitely no time table for it though. Just whenever the mood strikes me I suppose? If people have ideas I’ll consider using them for inspo to write, but otherwise it’s gonna be slow-goings, methinks.

I appreciate all the support, too!!! very fun to have these chats in my inbox, def a highlight of my day

[shina-moon-art]

Could we get some headcanons for Ann and Kuzan's kid? I always thought they'd have a girl maybe after the story still I'd love to know this new child oc of yours! I could see Ann and Kuzan's kid being like Ace and getting into fights as a kid or being a troublemaker of some sort! I could see him look up to Roger as well!

I think when Just had originally brought up what their kids would look like we had talked about them having a few kids (3-4 maybe), I don’t really have any headcannons in particular but I think most of them are very laid back (Ann has that effect on children methinks).

Idk what happened when I designed ann, like genuinely I just started drawing, blacked out, and came back to the initial drawing of Ann like “she’s perfect”. I think it definitely helped that I had a more concrete vision for her bec it was like: looks like rouge, older sister, marine, neapolitan color scheme, basically raised by Garp. And I just kinda ran with it and made my own headcannons along the way, it’s a little unusual for me but I’ve had a harder time acknowledging Ann’s softness than I do with other characters, mostly because when designing her it was a “ baddest bitch around” mentality, same for Hayami.

KuzAnn kid we talked about a lot less, we talked about it forever ago and the only thing I really remember is basically like law but more laid back and looks like Kuzan and Ann. My Uncle Law joke comes closer and closer to being true every day ( yeah he’d be more like their cousin but you can’t tell me that any of Ann’s kids wouldn’t consider him like the weird uncle that’s into like emo stuff)

Idk, honestly I can’t see them doing the same stuff Ann and Ace did ( can’t remember if I talked about it here before but I HC that Ann got into fights a lot back on Barterilla for a multitude of reasons). Idk about Roger honestly, I feel like he’s def still a sore subject for Ann especially with everything that was Ace as well at literally seeing your dad get executed. But at the same time I think it would make her happy that her kid(s) look up to/enjoy stories of her father so much.

🙏listen bros I wanna talk about Maev so bad but if I get started without specific questions I will yap too much and spoil stuff for a story that doesn’t even have its first chapter written. I’ll answer all asks about her but if I feel like the answer will be a spoiler I’ll just be vague about it. Feel free to ask questions though!!

[mrsbsmooth]

Red, White & Royal blue: live blind reaction.

I have never read the book, I have no idea of the plot, I have a two line summary.

Let’s go.

There is so much exposition in this it’s not even funny

PRESIDENT UMA THURMAN!

Is the book written like this what the fuck this is kind of bad

Where was Prince Henry’s actor when they were casting the crown fr he’s a dead ringer for baby wills

Don’t get me wrong. The two main characters are fucking hot as shit, but the actual story and the dialogue is so predictable

Alex has the eyelashes of a god

The budget for this is… not high. The president’s son can only afford to have like 50 people at his party? And it’s in a marquee tent with fairy lights instead of at a venue? The fuck? Lol

And they’re skipping all the relationship development.

Okay wait Get Low just came on

Henry watches TV, but he’s never heard popular music?

Oh this everyone getting low except then thing is kinda cute but a little cringe but actually a lot cringe. I refuse to believe that someone who drags their mate to the DF for get low isn’t getting aforementionedly low.

Aw Henry leaves when Alex kissed a girl, methinks he’s got a little crush

OH

OH I SEE

oooooooooooooooooooo

Aw cute Henry likes him. Wish we’d had a little more foreshadowing of that though cause it seems like they were just friends. Could’ve done with a bit more from Henry’s POV

God this snow is so fake though I’ve never even seen snow but that was so obviously a closed set

Pairing up the only two black characters I see hmmm

The actress who plays Nora is absolutely adorable

Both women leaders I love it

Omg did he not come to the party naur his poor little empty place card

Did his place card say “Prince Henry” I’m fucking sorry but a black tie event he would be “HRH” AT LEAST, and they would be using Alex’s full first name (assuming it’s Alexander) or just Mr. Full first name and Surname who wrote this you know nothing of etiquette 🤣

Miguel hot. Please don’t sleep with him though please Henry will be sad.

Alex you didn’t tell him off the record you eejit

REDRUM

OKAY HER WALKING IN ON THEM WHHXHCHHAHAHAHA IM DYING OMG THAT WAS SO GOOD

Are you still…. “Like Stonehenge”

“Your Royal hardness”

Omfg I’m dying 🤣🤣🤣🤣 that’s so cute

He did NOT just pat Henry’s ass in public babe you’re gonna get him in trouble

OH OKAY THIS JUST GOT GOOD LETS HAVE A BJ SCENE

oh wait no it didn’t. They really just faded to black on me 😒

“Keep it Casual” rude and not okay

And also wtf did Henry get off too or did he just blow Alex and leave. What happened to “I’m gonna do terrible things to you” like no sir it sounds like you just got a blowjob and then didn’t reciprocate. Lover of the year 10/10 (sArCaSm)

THOSE GREY PANTS HIDE NOTHING ALEX GODDAMN

Why are there bagpipes playing at a polo match?

I’m sorry but for people trying to keep things quiet they sure talk about their sexual escapades in public a lot

A mouthful muahahahha called it with the grey pants alex is hung like a horse

Oof Alex got swerved for the hand hold that’s a big ouch

Aww the bit where he’s not sure who’s topping and who’s bottoming it’s such a mood and it’s cute.

Okay stop. Wait. I’ve paused this. Anyone who says they went to boarding school as a justification for being gay or experienced is lying. I went to an all girls boarding school, and my husband went to an all boys. All boys schools are some of the most disgustingly homophobic places on the fucking planet. If he’s saying that all the boys are fucking each other he’s dead wrong. If anything he’d be so shamed for being even remotely gay that he’d be traumatised. Fuck boarding school. Okay back to the movie.

Ooooh damn alex has a great body

Oh wow this is actually really fucking cute

I can’t believe how wrong I was about you FUCK OFF THIS IS SO CUTE

Aaaaaahhhh!!!! AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! THIS SEX SCENE IS SO ROMANTIC AND CUTE!

I can’t help but laugh with the hand closeups though it’s so titanic and cringe

But the facial closeups are *beautiful*

These guys are phenomenal actors I’m so glad they didn’t fade to black for that scene. But the directing is… interesting.

Pausing to find out if the actors are gay

Unconfirmed for both. I ship them together they look beautiful as a couple.

“I’m learning” oh fuck off that’s beautiful

Oof the plane home is a mood alex is so in love.

His mum is right though. She can’t do shit unless she gets re-elected

Wait was he formerly allowed to speak to the press lol since when??? As if he’s authorised.

“Yes madam president” oh shut up you angsty teenager 🤣 this is so “you just don’t GET me mom and daddddd”

Awww he’s so cute with his Texas thing though

THE EMAILS BACK AND FORTH

WHAT DID I JUST SAY ABOUT TALKING ABOUT THIS SHIT IN PUBLIC

Wouldn’t it have been more romantic for him to be waiting in Alex’s apartment because then he actually would’ve been able to greet him properly instead of just grabbing his shoulder like “what are you doing here”

Miguel KNOWS and this is bad bad bad. Why the evil Hispanic man though?

AHAHHAHAHHA ZAHRA STORMING IN WHERE IS SHE omfg she is by far my favourite character in this whole movie

“Who knows about this?” “Literally no one but you. And the secret service. And Percy. And Nora. Oh and I told my sister. Oh I didn’t know that? Yeah she’s really happy for us.” BSHCHJCJSHAHHAAHHAHA

That was my favourite line so far hands down

Technically I’m the spare CHCISOOAK PRINCE HARRY CODED 🤣🤣🤣🤣

As for you little lord fuckleroy I will brexit your head from your body OKAY ZAHRA HAS THE WORLDS BEST DIALOGUE NEW FAVOURITE LINE

THE BOW - your royal highness omfg I’m dead Zahra deserves an award and an Oscar the actress is so good

Aw the talk with mum awww this whole thing is cute. Bestie Uma is an ally. Her telling him about bottoming is so iconic omfg

Aw look at Henry in a flannel shirt 😂

The karaoke omfg and he sucks 😂

Alex is so in love holy shit

Aw and Alex’s dad loves him

THE SHUFFLE CLOSER ON THE DOCK

WHAT A CALLBACK

oh

Oh no

Oh I don’t like this

I don’t like the look on Henry’s face rn

Oh wow alex just got swerved.

I— *splash*

That’s how I’m leaving every uncomfortable conversation from now on. Just roll away and splash into the water.

HES LEAVING COMPLETELY?!!!!???!

Aw i like your dog what’s his name

Wait where’s the dog I want more dog

Quickly checks doesthedogdie.com

Only one report and it says no so I think we’re good.

Did you actually end things with Alex though? NO YOU DID NOT. You just GHOSTED HIM

Nora’s right go to london

OH HES HERE HES AT THE GATE shkskskksksks

oh my god Henry’s speech is heartbreaking.

“I can love you and want you and still not want that life. I’m allowed. And it doesn’t make me a liar. It makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self preservation and you don’t get to come in here and call me a coward for it.”

Okay whelp now I’m crying. Being a prince do be like that. Except fuck Harry and Meghan for reals.

Well you can’t just not let anything happen to you. Because nothing will ever happen to you. Isn’t this what Dory says to Marlin in Finding Nemo wtf 😂 PLAGIARISM

I’m pretty sure the royal family don’t have a key to the British museum please correct me if I’m wrong, they could have magic skeleton keys to every building in Britain but it seems unlikely.

Circling a sculpture of a male torso like sharks hmm yes the deepening of the movie such imagery much wow very meaning

Please don’t dance amongst the statues that’s really cringe

Aw okay no I take it back it’s cute.

Elvis? it should’ve been a Bowie song just saying.

OH WAIT THE DOGS NAME IS DAVID I JUST REMEMBERED awww yesss hope nothing happens to david

Aw they’re dancing like they’re at a school disco 🤣

History huh? Bet we could make some.

PLEASE Alex waking up in Buckingham palace 😂 that’s gonna be an awkward walk of shame past the paparazzi 🤣🤣🤣

The chain on that key is new it is not old. When did he make that necklace yesterday?

OH MY GOD NO NOT THE EMAILS

#Hacked

No

No

No

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

WHY WONT THEY LET THEM TALK THIS IS DUMB AND STUPID

Surely someone has a sneaky phone they can hook them up on COME ON!!!!!

I fucking knew it was Miguel. Even when I thought it was the palace I knew it was him.

“This is about privacy” eek Prince Harry is gonna love this IRL

That whole speech from Alex was beautiful. Also means they can’t deny anything which is probably not the best strategic move I hope Henry’s not mad that he did that. Stupid idealistic Americans.

ZAHRA IM OBSESSED WITH YOU YOURE THE REAL QUEEN AND SHES FUCKING THE EQUARRY OR WHATEVER HIS NAME IS IM IN LOVE IS ZAHRA SINGLE I WANT TO MARRY HER

SKINNY PERFECT ASS hjcicidoskkcncjidisokncnnfmdkskskkckkckcjncnsnamkck

“Baby” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“I’m coming to london” WHY DID YOU NOT DO THAT AS SOON AS THE EMAILS GOT LEAKED

Omg that hug on the stairs stop it they’re actually so beautiful together

HES NOT PLAYING YANKEE DOODLE ON THE PIANO

Did Henry see Alex’s speech tho I kinda need to know

OH YAY HE SAW IT jcjcjdkksoxjjcncks

“Your boyfriend”

Oh the king wants to see them oh shiiiit

THE SIGNET RING

Shut the fuck up Phillip you Poncy cunt

THEY

No

NO THEY DIDNT

They did not get STEPHEN FUCKING FRY to play a HOMOPHOBIC KING

Bsbchjcjsjdjkckfkkdmsa I am laughing so fucking hard right now I’m crying I actually had to pause it I’m laughing so hard

THIS CASTING DIRECTOR EITHER NEEDS AN OSCAR OR A RAZZY I CANT DECIDE

Why haven’t they bowed all the royals now to each other

He smokes lol the king does not smoke they would consider it vulgar these days

That is a LARGE glass of whisky. Like that is four shots minimum.

Dear God, this King is so fucking stupid if he thinks that this can be explained with Clandestien reports after Alex has just done like a super romantic beautiful speech publicly acknowledging their relationship .

Like what is he expecting Henry to say that Alex was lying and he was making it up to further his mums political campaign?

Hommo sek siual 🤣🤣 I’m sorry but Stephen fry playing a homophobe is just so far outside the realm of me being able to suspend my disbelief I’m just PMSL

They will not accept a Prince- just wait

Now is the part where there’s a giant crowd supporting him

CALLED IT

GO

YAYYYYYYYYYY aww they’re so cute together aww aww awww yayyy look at all the pride flags

Of course the election hangs on Texas lol

It’ll come down to Austin

Writing her concession speech on election night I think not this would’ve been preappproved weeks ago

Prince would not be on stage he wouldn’t be allowed either by the royals or by his security team or by the Democrats lol

AND THE MOVIE’S OVER

Rachel Hilson that’s her name I love her

Someone needs to tell me if the book has better pacing than this because the pacing was all over the place for the first 45 minutes. The rest of the movie was great but idk

OH THERES A POST CREDITS 🤣 aww cake YAY that’s so cute abbdbsjajhahahahqh

There we go.

Overall not bad but the pacing and exposition was really off at the start. Lucky I’m procrastinating from writing otherwise I might’ve turned it off lol.

Love the actors (especially Alex’s eyelashes babe what mascara you using damn) and their chemistry but idk the writing was a bit cringe in parts. Really well acted though.

Recommend-ish?

Edit: it’s now the next day and I’ve had time to think about it. And the more I think about it the more I’m fucking in love with this movie

How rarely do we get to just see two silly little boys in love with none of the trauma dumping or anything just a beautiful little romcom for two happy little gays

10/10 idc about the exposition and cringe I loved it and it deserves the world.

[nvastars]

What is this site … this is like Twitter but scarier for some reason … why is that …

but hiii tumblr. first post woo hoo !! Or well first post I’ve written myself , this more of an account where like. I’ll just spew random thoughts about my ocs and stuff ( is severely autistic about them ) maybe art but not rlly ??

*ೃ༄ about me

╰┈➤ Nova / Helen !

╰┈➤ literally alt!Cesar Torres and Helen Distortion irl

╰┈➤ Bilingual ! Spanish ( 🇬🇹 ) and English ( 1st lang. )

╰┈➤ cis fem she / they :3

╰┈➤ probably autistic idk

╰┈➤ I’m rlly into TMA, TMC, Project Sekai, Spiderverse and my ocs currently !!! If you share my interests pls pls pls be my friend I need more of those 🙏🏽🙏🏽 ( I also really like history and cowboys )

╰┈➤ I like to write !! And draw !! I’ll post some writing stuff occasionally methinks

╰┈➤ nerd

╰┈➤ again pls interact if you share my interests

╰┈➤ lonely and flesh aligned !! Definitely not a secret slaughter and spiral avatar !!

╰┈➤ a lot more active on discord !! my user is the same as my handle on here ! :3

ೃ༄ about me

uhhrmm basic dni criteria ?? dni with me if you dislike my interests I guess lol ?

Uhhjmg is that all ?? is that all I need to do to introduce myself here ?? why is this so scary what tje freak …. don’t expect too much ill probably use this app when jm brain rotting too much over stuff … okay goodbye tumblr I’ll see you on the next blue moon or whatever

[gothsuguru]

HI HELLO IM BREAKING INTO UR INBOX W TEARS IN MY EYES…………… 😭😭 i just read all ur tags on my sugu fics and when i tell you i CRIED YOURE SOO??? so so SO sweet and thoughtful????? I HOPE YOUR DINNER WAS THE TASTIEST EVER bc ur tags made my whole weekend <333333 literally every single thing u said made me go YES YOU GET IT like… im just gonna mention a couple things phsjdhs IM REALLY SOSO GRATEFUL <333 

FIRST OFF just . everything u said abt my writing in general??? is soooo unbelievably kind??? T_T like abt the setting and prose and etc!!! i got soooo happy every time u said u felt like u were really There LIKE THAT MEANS SO MUCH…. ”it’s like i’m living inside your words” ARE U TRYING TO KILL ME </3 sob. thank u :’< 

and aaa im so glad u liked all three fics even though theyre a bit different!! 🥺🥺 i just rlly feel like u understood what i was trying to convey w certain characters and lines and stuff and it means soooo much??? SUGU IS A DEVOTED LOVERBOY YESYESYES U GET IT!!!!! U UNDERSTAND!!!! ”devoted” & ”intense” are the PERFECT words for him i cant tell u how much i agree. AND SOO NURTURING YES WE’RE SO LINKED he’s so mother he’s so husbandwife <333 IM JUST NODDING ALONG TO EVERYTHING U SAY like genuinely. food as love was the theme for that particular fic hehe im so glad u noticed!!! 

AAAA AND UR TAGS ON THE CHILDHOOD BESTIES FIC ……. thats probably my fave sugu fic out of the ones ive written ngl i was sooo happy to see that u liked it 😭😭😭 U GET IT U DO… like their love could be platonic or romantic but it doesnt rlly matter bc they just love each other sooo much. HE’S A GHIBLI BOY YES i’m so glad u see the vision <33

IM SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG i just need you to know that i see you and i love you and i appreciate you <3333 tysm for reading my silly lil fics and taking the time to write such thoughtful tags!!! 🥺🥺 im tucking them all away into my heart hehe. wishing u the most wonderful weekend ever !!!! mwah mwah mwah <33

OMG PLEASENDNDNDND your writing is literally SO stunning methinks you have the best rendition of suguru out there… like it’s so TELLING how much you love suguru (and satoru bc TRUST i’m gonna be in the tags of those fics too) and also i just really like how much personality you give to the reader as well! like everyone just is so fleshed out & 3-dimensional like they don’t feel like Just Characters In A Story they feel like real people & honestly magnificent writing to me always makes me feel like i’m watching a movie - and your writing does that! as i’m reading i’m envisioning everything like a movie & that’s the best compliment i can give fr <3 again it’s a testament to your beautiful dialogue, scene setting, storytelling, and YES PROSE!!!!! THAT’S THE WORD I WAS LOOKING FOR THE ENTIRE TIMENFNFNFNF your PROSE is beautiful 😭 it’s very COZY & PRETTY i love it

& OMG I WAS ABLE 2 UNDERSTAND BC YOU CONVEY EVERYTHING SO WELL!!!!! i was never confused i was Always In It <3 AND YES YOU SPOKE #REAL bc sugu is the ULTIMATE devoted loverboy… & i love how his intensity is just innate to him like he can’t help but love fully and with his whole entire mind, heart, body, & soul! and i also like how it isn’t an uncomfortable intensity or overbearing in a bad way - it’s just like a really nice weighted blanket and i LOVE that. & omg i’ve come to love food motifs so much………. whether it be hunger for something, cannibalism to get to the core of someone’s being, peeling clementines as an act of selflessness/love for someone else, or just sweet soft feeding your lover in bed bc you want them to eat well… that’s some delicious fucking food. & YESSSSSS nurturing caretaker sugu my beloved………. i think i read somewhere i forgot if it was just a random post here but someone said that suguru has such natural paternal instincts and that’s so real… like he’s mother he’s father he’s husbandwife he’s Transcended everything… the ultimate DadMom of the group… i just know his tote bag has bandaids, water, & snacks for everyone and he’s just the One you go to talk to about anything (again just like your sugu <3) OH AND ALSO i really like how devoted the reader is too! i Myself am a devoted lovergirl so i Feel seen

THE CHILDHOOD BESTIES FIC WAS SO FUCKING &/@/$/&//@/&:! why’d i get transported to a quaint town w the boy i’ve been in love since childhood and now he grew into a wondrous handsome man… trust that for Me if it involves sugu i’m immediately going romantic mode like i’m sorry i’m so Desperately In Love with him i can’t be normal <3 that fic is so fucking rich and filled w real problems that teens/ppl in their twenties face! the fear of the unknown but it feels like anything is possible and doable with someone like suguru by your side! AND YES HE IS SOOOOO HAKU-CODED TO ME (my first bf since i was a kid… coincidence? methinks not…) and also i reallllllllly love your fic of suguru going to reader’s apartment to declare war but he instead goes & has tea & cookies instead… i think i read that fic ages ago on ao3 and i could never find it again so it’s so Poetic Cinema that i found it here and that it was YOU and that you created so many more amazing fics… like i’m so well fed omfg & i’m super excited for anything you have coming out next!

AND OMG IT’S ABSOLUTELY MY PLEASURE! THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH BEAUTIFUL STORIES THAT I WILL KEEP TUCKED IN MY BRAIN & HEART <3 i will never forget you twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat… for as long as i live 🫡☝🏼 BUT FR!!!!! thank you for creating such wonderful premises for stories! i’m ecstatic to read anything you come out with next <3 mwah mwah mwah

^ me when reading your fics

[thisismycard]

i am vomiting out my voice, i am screaming out of my belly, i am dying sooner than i imagine

i’m not holding back

like i did this morning—

swallowing down my nausea

and the person i couldn’t become to make you like me

this is me, in retrograde, without filter lens glasses

ziggy, ziggy, ziggy

tattooed over my heart

it hurt my heart

when you spoke my words with vitriol, with the understanding of a fetus

and then dared to apologize

as i lost control over the rage in my cheeks

how can i reconcile you

with my speed walking partner

maybe i don’t believe in humanity anymore

will i ever truly like anyone?

i do like you, i promise

come kiss me, no don’t

come touch me, come dip your golden dripping fingers

and paint my rib cage rainbow, let the flowers bloom

i’m always running from something, longing for everything i left

how do i not hurt myself for every self i didn’t become

you’ve made too many selves and they’re all hurting because of you

i wonder if the great poets actually took ages to examine their words and fit them into pretty rhyme schemes

when bukowski seems to think that to be a writer is to live with chronic pain

it is to live as a river restrained by a dam

and push past it, freed finally

finally you’ll find it

now there’s no time

i am thinking about what would make my mother cry reading it,

and realizing that nobody really knows me at all

ziggy, ziggy, ziggy

doesn’t look real when it’s written like that

it’s funny that i can taste caution in my mouth even when writing

let’s go out and shout the words we never said

i think i’m too afraid sometimes, you say that’s okay but

what if i care too much?

empathic, psychopathic, sylvia plath-ic

as i yearn, i ache beyond even that word

to pour out my soul, to stop in shock

at the rusty, meaningless, feeble words

thrust out of of a small cramped darkness inside of me–

i am passionate, fragmentary YES

the **** doth protest too much at the next word, methinks

splicing quotes and screaming and inner frail fickle words together

feels reminiscent of making collages out of magazines,

having childlike wonder again, although it’s darker now

if i cry and it softens the sharp spikes of my eyeliner will the picture help you understand

that i am bruised and brittle and broken and bristled and buttery and beautiful–

but not in a short and tight dress

she says she knows me so well,

what do i say when she doesn’t know a thing about me

i’ll change my name, or change my mind

but she’ll know, she’ll know

she won’t, she won’t

ziggy, ziggy, ziggy

and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist

i’ve discovered something i don’t have a name for

i don’t know if i can even reconcile it over a plate of carefully torn oranges,

and juice squeezed with the remnant of every tender and pure devotion i had

you realize there is nothing really stopping you

from dreaming yourself away, spilling blood like red wine on the carpet

it was easier to accept him as a magical sentient creature

than a boy who wanted to die

there is nothing stopping me from

IT

from becoming, blossoming, breathing

because there’s a whole life in that,

in knowing that the sun is there

c’mon ziggy, come light me up

[t7-01]

does hondo ever get jealous of piik?

quinn. quinn quinn quinn. these are the kinds of questions i LIVE FOR. unfortunately i could write a short essay on most any topic in this au, SO i’m gonna put my long ass response under the cut. apologies in advance LMFAO

short answer: not…really?

long answer: kind of. so, let me go over the timelines for a second here (indulge me my friend) and then get into my thoughts on the matter

in canon, jango gets recruited by dooku in his early 30s, with the clones and boba being created around the time of tpm.

in the clone dad jango au, jango is recruited about a decade or so earlier than that, and while boba isn’t born until later (around the time of tpm), jango goes through his 20s training and getting to know his clones, which 1. makes him less hardened by age and 2. forces him to interact with the clones without boba as a buffer or his “real family” for a very long time.

when i hc jango and hondo being together in the canon timeline, i always imagine that they spent more time together in their 20s. jango didn’t have a son or duties to kamino at that time, so it would make sense that he’d spend more time with “friends”/“lovers” (or at least, his rare free time wouldn’t be spent training clones or caring for boba).

this means that in the clone dad jango au, jango and hondo have hooked up a couple of times and maybe have a strange sort of bond that’s formed, but the frequency and duration of their relationship just isn’t there bc we’ve carved away a whole decade’s worth of free time they’d have spent together.

now, in any timeline, i hc hondo and jango as being exceptionally open. they don’t hold each other to any promises of commitment or have any expectations, bc obviously their professional lives don’t really allow for that, and they know there are others in their lives who mean something to them, for better or for worse (hondo and aurra, jango and zam, etc etc). but i do think that hondo, at the very least, interprets this as meaning “we don’t commit to anyone else, either”. jango, meanwhile, is a little loose and fast with his interpretations.

so what i’m trying to say is: bc they don’t ever discuss it (bc jango hates talking about his feelings and hondo hates laying his vulnerabilities on the table), hondo is somewhat blindsided by piik. piik and jango don’t get together for a while, but hondo can tell pretty easily that there’s something between them, and it’s not just sexually charged (though there is that), it’s emotionally intimate. so hondo is more miffed that jango didn’t think it might be prudent to mention that he has a boyfriend (“he doesn’t even like me, hondo.” “no, my friend, he does not. but he loves you.”), and, more importantly, has settled down, bc hondo would just like to know where he stands with people - it makes him feel secure in himself and in his choices.

that being said, i think it’s pretty easy for them to move past it - again, this relationship has had far less time to develop, and while hondo would be miffed, he wouldn’t be hurt or offended. just vaguely irritated. i don’t think that jango and hondo would continue to hook up (or if they did, it would be only before piik and jango got together and likely only when they were both extremely stressed and somehow stuck together).

and while i’m a huge fan of polycules, especially for mandalorians, and can even see jango and piik being in one, i can’t see them being in one with hondo. for jango, he’s really sort of settled down on concord dawn, and while he may continue bounty hunting on occasion and keep up with old contacts, i think he’s mostly letting that life go. there are exceptions, ofc, but he and hondo know they’re better off friends in this case. for piik, he and hondo are too unlike one another, and not even in a fun “opposites attract” way but in a simple “this would never work” way. piik thinks hondo’s way too irresponsible and a bad influence on the kids, and hondo thinks piik is boring and uppity. so to answer your question, it’s less jealousy and more annoyance and lack of comprehension. besides being hot, hondo does NOT get what jango sees in piik. however, i would be remiss to say that piik’s dislike of hondo isn’t somewhat due to jealousy - hondo is unashamed of his previous sexual exploits with jango, and as much as piik hates to admit it, it bothers him.

on the bright side, hondo is fun and annoying about it once he’s over the whole “you should’ve told me” thing, much to some of the boys’ delight. cody and fox think he’s an asshole, and rex doesn’t like him talking shit about piik, but the others think he’s HILARIOUS and piik’s daughter cyelle especially loves when uncle hondo imitates piik having a crisis. “hey hey hey who am i: oh nooooo hondo you cannot let the little boy tattoo your lieutenant you are a madddd mannnn.” cue uncontrollable laughter from most of the kids, a very quickly covered chuckle from jango, and piik looking utterly unamused.

they stop hating each other eventually, when hondo and piik inevitably have to work together to help the kids and/or jango, and there’s the classic moment of begrudging respect for one another. but it probably doesn’t happen for years - coincidentally, once jango and piik get together, piik chills out a little around hondo bc he doesn’t have anything to be jealous of anymore. hondo notices this, and teases piik about it. so like, they’re never quite besties, but they do wear the get-along shirt for the fett family.

(and don’t feel too bad for hondo losing out on his dilf boyfriend: he sort of steals one of jango’s sons over to his way of life in the end. not telling who though!)

[no-fate-but-what-we-make]

Staking A Claim | Reggie Mantle

[gif is not mine; all credit to the creator]

Word Count: 1K

Pairing: Reggie Mantle x Fem!Reader, 2nd person POV

Description: Nobody knows the two of you are dating, until Reggie decides to stake a claim

Warnings: implied sexy things, sneaking around, intimidation

A/N: I’ve written something similar for Frausto from All American, but I wanted to change it up and reuse the idea. No spoilers, as this is just a snippet of time that takes place at Riverdale High and I’m only on season 3 of the show

- - -

You stepped out of the women’s locker room after football practice, your sore muscles aching with every step. You were snug in Reggie’s ‘Riverdale Bulldogs Football’ hoodie, the thought of wearing it in plain sight giving you a little thrill. Nobody knew the two of you were together, and if anyone were to ask about the slightly bigger size to the hoodie, you knew you would just lie and say you’d ordered a bigger size because you wanted it. Not that anyone would ask you about it; being the only girl on the football team was enough to intimidate about two-thirds of your class. It didn’t matter that you were only on the football team because there wasn’t anyone else who’d scored more points than you - or because you wanted the off-season practice outside of soccer - running with the football team gave you a different kind of power in the Riverdale High hierarchy.

Hot Killer by Julia Wolf played through your headphones as you sauntered down the hall to the student lounge, hoping to grab a VigorAde from the vending machine before heading home. You made no acknowledgement of the people there, heading straight for what you wanted.

*~*~*~

“D’you think she can hear us?” Kevin Keller asked, eyeing your turned back.

“Even if she can, what makes you think she’d say anything to us?” Betty shot back, looking to her boyfriend for some support.

“Sometimes I wonder if she realizes that people think she’s scarier than Cheryl Blossom, pre-Toni,” Jughead mused, running a soothing hand up and down Betty’s thigh.

Reggie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping he wasn’t giving anything away. “Guys, she’s not that bad. Serious and intense, yes, but not that bad.”

Archie scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Normally, I’d agree with you about one of our teammates, but she’s just built different. I don’t care that she’s the main reason we beat Centerville last week or that she’s captain of the women’s soccer team when the season is over, I agree with Jug: she’s scary.”

“I’m telling you you’re wrong.” Reggie could feel his anger and frustration rising, unsure why he wanted people he considered friends to like her.

Veronica arched a perfectly-manicured eyebrow. “Methinks the football player doth protest too much.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Reggie huffed, leaning forward. His gaze flickered to your back for the briefest of moments but of course Veronica caught that.

“Vee is right,” Betty muttered, sitting up a little straighter as she put her detective brain to good use. 

“What aren’t you telling us, Reg?” Archie prodded, joining in on the questioning.

“I-”

*~*~*~

You smiled to yourself when your favorite flavor of VigorAde dropped down from the machine. You opened it, taking a long swig as you debated whether or not to grab something to eat. It was a stall tactic more than anything; you knew when people were talking about you and this time was no exception - except for the fact that your secret boyfriend happened to be among them.

Your playlist started on the next song, but you subtly pressed pause, wanting to be able to hear what was going down behind your back. You could hear Reggie defending you, your heart constricting at the warmth spreading through your chest. Betty and Veronica were right, you thought, taking another drink of VigorAde, Reggie was definitely protesting too much for someone claiming to just be defending a teammate.

“What aren’t you telling us, Reg?” You heard Archie ask as you finally turned around.

Your gaze met Reggie’s as he opened his mouth to respond. “I-”

“He isn’t lying to you, Andrews,” you cut in, drawing attention to yourself now. “There’s nothing to tell.”

Reggie’s eyes narrowed as he studied you, and you couldn’t tell if he was hurt or confused or both. The two of you had previously made a pact to keep your relationship a secret, but lately he’d been hinting at the possibility of going public. “Like hell there isn’t,” he growled, standing up and stalking towards you. To anyone else it would be scary or intimidating, but you knew Reggie better than anyone - even Moose, he’d confessed to you one - and knew that this was all just for show. He reached out and placed a hand on your cheek so softly that it took every ounce of your willpower not to close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Care to tell the truth?”

Calmly, you reached up and grabbed Reggie’s wrist, taking his hand off your cheek. “You really wanna do this right here, right now?”

Reggie shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “It’s as good a time as any, I’d say. Unless you’re scared?”

The challenge in his tone had you rising to the occasion, always fighting to prove yourself and Reggie knew that. “Me? Scared? Never.”

“Prove it,” Reggie smirked, both hands grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against him. “Kiss me. Show everyone you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Okay, okay,” Kevin’s voice rang out as he stood up, reminding you that it wasn’t just you and Reggie in the student lounge. “This has gone on long enough, and I, for one, don’t want to be witness to whatever the hell this weird sexual power dynamic is that’s happening.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh shut up, Keller.” That interruption had been all you needed to get your shit together, dragging Reggie down for a public heated kiss.

When the kiss ended, Reggie pressed his forehead against yours as he tried to catch his breath. “Fuck,” he whispered, swallowing hard, “that was-”

“I know,” you replied, giggling. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?” You peered over your no-longer-secret boyfriend’s broad shoulders to marvel at the shocked faces in front of you. “What are you all gawking at?!” You questioned, your intimidating persona back with a vengeance. 

The group got up to leave and Reggie turned to his friends. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

Once it was just the two of you alone in the student lounge after hours, Reggie took your hand and led you to the couch, sitting back and manspreading so you had no choice but to straddle him. His hands returned to your waist, sliding up underneath his hoodie. “Now,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, “where were we?”

[sparxymcfly]

Do you have any bttf fanfics or crossovers that you'd recommend?

I CANNOT BEGIN TO APOLOGIZE FOR HOW LONG THIS ONE HAS TAKEN TO GET TO but simultaneously. :) You bet your butt I do! I've read... quite a few BTTF fics and combed through, I am fairly sure, a large chunk of what's on Ao3. Which ah! Does leave quite a considerable pile. But lemme give you some of my favorites!!

Fanfictions

‘Cause I Might Not Make It Back by Rose_of_Pollux - I feel the need to give small descriptions but also I ought to keep it brief! A post-game multi-chapter adventure following Marty sent back to 1932 with amnesia and both Emmett and Doc have to work to figure out what’s happened and how to fix it, all the while the perpetrator- after Doc’s time travel research- is still at large... It’s well written and very fun!

No Little Plans by cleflink - Another grand adventure! While not multichapter, this one is still a bit of heft at 11k, but MAN is it worth it. In which Doc takes Marty on a fun little road trip that turns WILD. But then, whaddya expect out of these two? It’s a seriously fun ride and as I don’t intend to try to spoil more than what’s in descriptions I’ll be leaving it at that, but I very much recommend it!

Future Boy: In The Beginning by Anonymous - Wow! A trans Marty fic? From moi? Who’d have thunk it. There’s many different takes on trans Marty, but this one is one of my favorites. There isn’t terribly much to be said that isn’t on the tin- Marty deals with realizing he is trans and going forward with that in the American 80s. There’s also a second fic in this series and you should read it too- do be warned of the tags, of course, but have fun!

Becoming Marty by butchcassidy - TWO trans Marty fics? Methinks there’s a trend here. Well, there is. This one is a lot lighter than the previous one, for what it is worth, but it’s just as lovely a take. As opposed to a stalwart fight, it’s more of a rocky road, so to speak. As it says on the tin- Marty becoming himself, and it’s very enjoyable :)

Fireworks, Family, and other post time travel Phenomenon by Moonyssoliloquy - Mouthful! But here’s a lovely little number about PTSD and Marty’s wonderful little found family. There isn’t much to be said without just spoiling the whole deal as it is rather short and sweet, but I gotta say, the writing is crisp and makes it very worth the click. Especially if you wanna read something that’ll just make you real soft for a minute :)

In Case of Emergency by Knickynoo - MMM SOME OF THESE WERE DIFFICULT because I’m endeavoring to pick just one fic per author when it comes up. PLEASE do look into these authors I’m linking bc honest to god very good work, every single one of em. Anyways I picked this one because I have a penchant for reading and rereading softer and easier things more than heavy ones and I would have liked to reread longer things before I recommend them and <3 not quite ready yet. Which, a bit of a laugh considering some of my earlier picks, but like a certain little time traveler I find grand adventure easier than confronting the hard stuff. Who knew! BUT EVEN THEN IT’S HARD. This one is cute and it’s about Marty calling Doc for help and it’s just. Give it a read just trust me, Nikki’s good at this stuff <3

He Ain’t Heavy. He’s My Brother by TaraTheMeerkat - OHHH my goodness I really do love this one. I’ve got a soft little spot in my heart for the 2015 kids and man if this doesn’t deliver so darn well. Trans Marlene? Check. The twins just being there for each other and loving each other? Check. Lovely characterizing on both of them? Check. Give it a read if you like them also :)

Doctor Fix It by Kharasma - ITS SO. This one’s another rather short and sweet, following a little snippet of Doc and Marty in 55. It’s so. It’s very nice and cute and only a little bit sad but then it’s soft again I PROMISE it’s worth it go read it :)

Crossovers

I don’t actually read that many crossovers tbh! And those I do, I typically prefer short and sweet ones, and/or crossovers that include things I Know about, although I’ve dipped my toes in the proverbial pool once or twice before. All this to say, here’s a few cute ones I’ve found, and do investigate yourself if you’d like! [Which is true of the non-crossover fics too but I feel Especially I should say here, since I don’t dabble in it much]. Most of em are short and sweet, so I’ll just be listing what the crossover is and you can decide whether you’d like a little smile about it <3

Departmental Affairs by kesomon - Back to the Future (Movies) x Star Trek: Next Generation.

It Could Have Happened by Kitschgeist - Back to the Future (Movies) x Clue (1985).

An Unusual Meeting by jedipati - Back to the Future (Movies) x Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies).

Back to the Falls by lemonhead - Back to the Future (Movies) x Gravity Falls.

little high, little low by mrFutureBoy - Back to the Future (Movies) x Stuart Little (Movies).

Also, did you know Marty features in the most infamous fanfiction of all, My Immortal? I learned this because someone posted it spell-checked to Ao3, turns out Marty randomly appears for 2 lines to help ole Ebony time travel. The more you know :)

In Closing/A Warning [under a read more bc this is gettin LONG]

Mostly! A warning! Do be careful when exploring if you choose to dive into the Ao3 tag yourself! The fandom is wonderful and I've read so many amazing works since becoming a fan, but while investigating some of my old favorites and, notably, their authors for other works for this ask, I, ah... made the unfortunate discovery that one of said old favorites was written by someone who also writes. Ah. To put it delicately some of the most atrocious things I’ve ever seen! Especially within the BTTF tag itself! To keep it vague. They're incredibly present, it seems, in both writing and reading- it made me a little ill to learn, and I'm a tad bit upset I cannot take the kudos back on any of their fic I read but <3 I can at least put forth the warning to you all to Be Careful venturing in, if that kind of thing bothers you. Every author of the fics I've linked here is of course fine though! Checked them myself and they're cool, at least in regards to BTTF content/things easily checked. You should check them out too also because not only is checking authors good for That Sort Of Thing but also you get to see more of their work that might otherwise be swallowed in the swaths! Which I’ve said once already, but like, can’t say it enough methinks.

If you WOULD like to check out the tag yourself for more though [and you aren’t already some measure of connoisseur of the site], here is a link to a search I've already applied careful filters of my own to! Granted, there is.. nothing I can do about untagged ships, but I've at least "seen the belly of the beast" so to speak and chopped off as much as I can. It's extremely barebones- removal of the most upsetting content, really. Typically I myself would remove things like Major Character Death [nothing wrong with it! I'm just soft and need to be in the right mood to handle it], or would filter for English [since that's the language I read ^^;]- or perhaps you'd like to filter out crossovers!

Which, points of warning for that is that on one hand, if you don’t filter them out I can’t? Guarantee you might not find a weird thing or two? As I didn’t exactly go through every single page of these. But on the other if you DO filter them out, careful to note that this is the filter for the movies, and filtering out crossovers Will also get rid of any that include the game. [WHICH UH! Here is another link if you’d like the same filters but with non-bttf crossovers removed- may still remove results from individual non-movie continuities, but it’s a good jumping off point and also I’m Rambling] But this is just some basic starters to help you not have to want to burn your eyes out like I do when I do my occasional tag checks for new works <3

Sorry again for the long wait, but thanks for asking!! And I hope you enjoy what I've set out- stay safe out there!

[abitofboth]

I think I’ve figured out why I hated multiverse of madness so much. it didn’t feel like a marvel film. it was just like watching a shitty sci-fi film. which is what I think the mcu is in danger of becoming now lmao

the mcu has become too big for itself and has outgrown what it’s capable of pulling off methinks. it used to be grounded and films were self contained whilst still being able to link with other parts of the universe in a nuanced way but now it’s like it’s been blown out of proportion and everything is Too Much and Too Big and it’s almost like it’s parodying itself. I love marvel with all my heart and it’s grown up with me for like a decade but like… I think they need to let it die. surely there’s gonna be a point where there’s no more good and well written stories to tell? it’s like they’re beating a dying horse. there’s only a handful of characters and storylines I truly have any connection to anymore and for the most part I just watch things for the sake of being up to date with timelines or whatever. I wish they’d either treat it with the love and craftsmanship it deserves or just like. pick a point and let it end. go out with a bang rather than drag it out until everyone hates it lmao

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 95: 2x12, 13x11

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

January 25, 2022

2x12: Nightshifter

Written by: Ben Edlund

Directed by: Phil Sgriccia

Original air date: January 25, 2007

Plot Synopsis:

The Winchesters investigate a series of crimes where robbers with no criminal past commit suicide after the hold-ups.

Features:

Ronald the X-Files superfan, mandroids, Ronald takes the bank, Henrickson makes his first appearance, the absolute best needle drop of the entire series.

My Thoughts:

I’ve probably already said this about another episode in Stacked but this is maybe the perfect recipe for a monster of the week style episode. The special effects are impeccable, the stakes are low-ish world-wise (Chuck isn’t about to Vanish everyone on Earth) but astronomical for the protagonists. It’s a reasonable escalation of in-world stakes based on what has happened with the Winchesters and the cops so far in the series.There’s emotional stakes introduced early with Ronald because he has his heart in the right place and he tries to do the right thing even if he fails spectacularly at it. The setup is believable, they didn’t have to make up bullshit for them to be stuck in that situation without their usual arsenal of weapons. And I love a smart monster! This shifter is freaky because of how good it is at what it’s doing. Everything is really well-executed.

I really like Ben Edlund’s dialogue for Dean in this episode (and generally in his other episodes as well); he’s fun without being overly quippy, he has strong emotional reactions to anything to do with his dad, and he gets to like people like Ron and the okey-dokey bank guy.

The only thing that kind of annoys me is the women just throwing themselves at Dean (although this is an early-seasons complaint in general, not just for this episode), but at a certain point it becomes really performative in the text itself. Like flashing a neon sign saying “THIS MAN IS A RED-BLOODED HETEROSEXUAL”. Methinks the lady (Eric Kripke) doth protest too much.

Thank you Ben Edlund for the introduction of Victor Henrickson; I love when there are real world consequences to the choices they have to make while monster hunting. They’re in danger from everyone, not just the things they hunt, and that makes it way more tense to watch them do what they do. It’s a fun quirk of Stacked that the only other time we’ve seen him so far was his part in the Rising of the Witnesses in season 4 as part of the breaking of the seals.

Notable Lines:

“I liked him. He's not that different from you or me. People think we're crazy.”

“It's become my job to know about you, Dean. I've been looking for you for weeks now. I know about the murder in St. Louis, I know about the Houdini act you pulled in Baltimore. I know about the desecrations and the thefts. I know about your dad. [...] Ex-marine, raised his kids on the road, cheap motels, backwood cabins. Real paramilitary survivalist type. I just can't get a handle on what type of whacko he was.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.8

IMdB Rating: 9.0

13x11: Breakdown

Written by: Davy Perez

Directed by: Amyn Kaderali

Original air date: January 25, 2018

Plot Synopsis:

Donna calls Dean and Sam for help after her niece Wendy goes missing. They find out she was kidnapped by a man who sells human parts to monsters in online auctions and race to rescue her.

Features:

Creepy cashiers and truck stop patrons, Dean makes pancakes at 6am like a maniac, Donna’s missing niece, Sam is less than enthusiastic, dark web body part auctions, Donna is great with a shotgun, Doug gets turned and unturned, Sam gets captured,

My Thoughts:

We skipped this episode on our first watch of the late seasons because it doesn’t have a ton of relevance to the main plot and @weedsinavacantlot was prioritizing Cas episodes (understandable), but HOLY SHIT. I LOVED this episode.

Right off the start the directing was way more interesting and suspenseful than a lot of what we’ve seen in Supernatural, even in some of the earlier seasons when the show was ostensibly in the horror genre. It reminded me of Drag Me Away (From You), which I guess the whole fandom isn’t sold on but I also loved. He’s making his way to being my favourite director, and the team up with Davy Perez writing is super strong.

A lot of the time in the later seasons I’m not into one-off episodes but I really liked this one. If the monster of the week style episodes in seasons 11-15 were more like this I would enjoy them a lot more.

Giving us the emotional in of it being someone Donna loves was great. Donna is such a loveable character that I immediately bought in to wanting to rescue Wendy, and it was awesome to see how much she’s developed as a hunter and how much her confidence has grown in the last few years. She’s a total badass now, and she doesn’t wait around for Sam and Dean to solve all the problems just because she called them in to help. At the same time, she’s still allowed to feel things and have emotional reactions to everything going on. It can be a difficult line to walk but I think it was handled beautifully.

All of the minor characters and suspects had a ton of personality to them. I was worried for a minute that the hot lesbian trucker was going to be evil just because we so rarely get our attention drawn to a civilian without them either being evil or being killed a few minutes later. The preacher, too, was a complete creep, but he was also just a guy. A great red herring.

When the auction was revealed I legitimately just pointed at the screen and yelled “EW EW EW” for like 30 seconds. I cheered and threw my hands in the air when Donna shot out the vampire’s kneecap. I had ordered food and I didn’t remember to look at my phone to check the status until the doorbell rang as it was delivered like 3 minutes from the end of the episode.

I wouldn’t exactly call this episode one for the Samgirls, but I thought it was really great that Davy Perez tied him to Kaia a little bit. It’s so easy in later seasons to forget that Sam was a psychic kid too, and I never considered him identifying with Kaia and then seeing her die for them. I was with Dean and kind of laughed to myself thinking he was moping about something. (To be fair, it’s hard to track everyone’s emotional journeys when your stacking. I might have remembered if I was just watching the seasons in normal human order.)

The actress who played Wendy was great. She didn’t really get the opportunity to show a lot of range, but my bet is that if Wayward Sisters had been picked up she would have at least been a recurring character.

Notable Lines:

“Do you really wanna get on the FBI’s radar again?”

“So you’re saying monsters are real?” “Pretty much.”

“He’s a big boy. We need him on a wide lens.”

“You and your brother are famous. Hell, soon as I saw that fancy car, I knew who you were. And I knew you’d be trouble.”

“most monsters… hell, they could be your next-door neighbor. They work a regular job, mow the lawns on a Saturday.”

“This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.8

IMdB Rating: 8.3

In Conclusion: Stacked said stop getting on the FBI’s radar.

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[cheesyficwriter]

hey there! I cannot express my love for your work (Isolated and lost in translation were *chef's kiss). Could you please write #75 for Romione? Thank you so much, I hope you have tons of cheese:)

Hi @shybrunettepainter! Thank you so much for reading and for your kind words 💜 what a fun prompt that definitely challenged me a bit! Just to preface, I am not well-versed in Shakespearean language, but I figured neither is Ron, so I definitely channeled him here 😉 hope you enjoy!

Prompt #75 - Speaks in a terrible Shakespearean/Elizabethan style to woo/make the other laugh.

Thee Maketh Me Happy

Hermione closed and locked her trunk, just as a knock on her bedroom door sounded. Hermione grinned and practically ran to open the door, revealing a beaming Ron on the other side. He had just arrived at her parents' home, with his father, to pick her up for a visit to the Burrow. They were two weeks away from starting their sixth year at Hogwarts and Hermione would be staying with the Weasleys for the remainder of the summer. 

“Hiya, Hermione!” Her stomach flipped wildly as she took in Ron's appearance. How was it possible that he had grown even taller in the last month or so since she had seen him? Despite the fact that he towered over her, he seemed to be filling out a bit more and she could make out his increasingly muscular frame under his tight shirt. 

They stood there awkwardly in the doorway for a mo, both unsure of what to do next, until Ron finally let out a strangled chuckle and opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. She eagerly wrapped her arms around him tight and sighed. 

"I've missed you," she heard him muffle into her hair. 

"I've missed you, too."

Ron released his grip on her, but Hermione noticed he didn't step back. "Well, are you all packed and ready to go? Wait...it's you. Of course you are," Ron teased. 

Hermione swatted at him but gestured him inside her room. "Yes, I could probably use some help with my trunk."

When she turned around, she found that Ron wasn't listening, instead his eyes were raking curiously across the shelves of books she had lined up against the wall. 

"What is Shaks-spar?" Ron inquired as he retrieved a dusty and tattered hardbound book from the shelf.

"It's pronounced Shakespeare."

"Fine, then. What is it?"

"Not what, who. William Shakespeare was an extraordinary muggle playwright and poet, who has written some of the most beautiful works of English literature out there. I mean Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth…"

"Who's Romeo? Who's Juliet?" Ron asked, confused. 

"They’re characters from one of his plays. A tragic love story…" 

“Hold on a second, tragic? What’re you doing reading this depressing shite?” Ron wrinkled his nose in disgust, holding out the book at arm's length. 

“It’s a work of art, Ron!” Hermione responded, exasperated. 

"Yeah, well, not interested if it's intent is to crush my soul."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his theatrics. "I didn't realize you were interested in books."

"Ha, bloody, ha," he stuck out his tongue at her playfully. Hermione couldn't help but smile before pointing to the cover,

“That book contains a list of Shakespeare's most timeless quotes, as well as provides English translation.”

"It's in another language?" 

“Shakespearean -- otherwise known as early modern English. Most of the words are still used today in standard English.”

"I bet you a galleon that I can make you laugh with this rubbish." He sent her a challenging smirk that made her weak in the knees. Yet, she firmly held her stance, not willing to give in to the blasphemous retorts spewing out of his mouth. 

"It is not rubbish, Ron! It's a work of art!" She repeated, almost stomping her foot in irritation.

"Let's see, then!" Ron cleared his throat dramatically, as he flipped to a random page. He planted his finger on a quote and began reading, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate." He squinted his eyes at the page he just read from. "What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?"  

Hermione sighed heavily. Her visit with Ron was going well so far. Sarcasm intended. "It signifies long-lasting love, that goes beyond a single season."

"Then why doesn't he just say that?"

Because it's poetry," Hermione responded curtly through gritted teeth. 

He only hummed in response and kept reading. "All that blisters is not gold."

"Glitters. All that glitters is not gold."

"What? That's not what it says!"

"Yes it does. You read it wrong." 

Ron pursed his lips as he reviewed the text. "Oh, well, bugger me. Here's another -- what's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet...Rose. That's a pretty name, I guess."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, it is." 

They locked eyes for a moment before Ron shook his head and returned to his reading. "Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown...if I had a crown, I'm not sure I would feel uneasy but that's just me…"

Hermione exhaled loudly, clearly fed up with his sarcastic comments. "It's simply saying that being royal comes with a lot of responsibilities and having those responsibilities can be daunting." 

"Off with his head!" Ron shouted with vigor. 

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" 

"Oh Hermione, I know I am. And just to prove my point further, let's see if I can make you blush, yeah?" He flipped to the section with word translations and spent a few moments deciphering, his eyebrows scrunched up adorably. 

"Okay, here's one to start with. I like thy...curly hair?" Ron kinked an eyebrow up at her expectantly. 

"Acceptable." Hermione remained neutral with her face but secretly gushed inside at how Ron has just outwardly admitted he liked her hair. 

Ron's eyes lit up. "Brilliant!" He went on to search for more. 

"Uh...thy eyes art like chocolate…do I detect a smidge of color on your face, Miss Granger?" Ron's blue eyes sparkled back at her as he studied her face. 

"What? N-no...just keep going!" 

"Thee art...the smartest...wench...in the whole land." Ron paused in between words as he checked the book. 

"Wench?"

"That's what it says right here!" He pointed to the translation of woman on the page. 

Hermione crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, almost daring Ron to try again. 

He obviously took the bait as he offered one more, leaning in close, "Thee maketh me happy." Ron smiled brilliantly at her and Hermione thought her heart might possibly explode. 

"What are you saying, exactly?" Hermione breathily whispered, not able to contain the flush of pink that crept onto her cheeks.

"Aha!" Ron pointed a finger in her face to triumphantly show victory. He clearly had forgotten her question, so Hermione brushed him off.

"You did not win, you were just standing so ridiculously close to me…"

He looked down at the book one last time before cheekily stating, "The lady doth protests too much, methinks."

"Oh, honestly!"