#my brain chemistry is changing as we speak

[mylovesstuffs]

Omg this had me in a chokehold. The tension, the fake engagemeny, the childhood besties who lowkey never stopped loving each other but are now awkward and hurt and pretending not to care—I was EATING. The moments like him chuckling like he’s fine [but he’s sooo not], the unspoken understanding [iyk which scene I'm talking about; dawn one], and the he’s gonna kill me panix when she realised— I was living for this lmao

Also, the pacing in this fic goes from I am so done to oh wait, I'm soft in the span of one scene. It’s emotional whiplash for dure, but in a way that makes you crave more. And the angst was delicious. Like, I needed a trigger warning for the amount of painfully unspoken feelings packed into this

This fic is everything I love: angst, yearning, royal drama, and a dash of Jeonghan being that guy. 100/10 no notes. I need more.

Once again, under the cut, there are spoilers and the commentary I wrote in my notes as I was reading, so it might not be coherent.

“Objections will not be heard,” he says, rejoicing merrily. “Let it be said, as far and wide as the kingdom goes. My daughter is to be married!”— wow, what a nice father 🥺

How do you deliver news like this to someone you aren’t even on speaking terms with?— 💀💀💀????????

Your brain is on high alert right now, and every single self-defense lesson Jeonghan has given you kicks in as you get dragged into a dark room.— Jeonghan 😭😭😭

“So I was just convenient for you,” he says, scowling. “We haven’t spoken to each other in years, and you choose to throw me under the bus?” — IN YEARS??!???!!!!??! I thought maybe months- oh lord.

“And whose fault is it?” You step closer, glaring up at him and all his audacity.— for some reason, and all his audacity made me laugh 😂

Omg I love their banter sm! They have really good chemistry.

All’s well that ends well, right?— right.

The feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours sends a rush of heat to your face that you can’t deny. This confuses you, he confuses you.— ah this is so giddy, bittersweet, romantic and everything. I can't feel his fingers intertwining.

Wordlessly, he nods, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your own.— gentleman for sure.

“Don’t make me fall in love with you,” you murmur softly, but Seungkwan is already gone.— girl, sorry to break it to you but, you already fell. It's hard not to.

The day Jeonghan returns, there is a downpour from hell.— ohhhh Jeonghan!!! So Jeonghan's self-defence classes wasn't just for show! He's here, yay.

The sudden greeting almost has you jumping, and your first instinct is to turn around and slam your heavy book into the man’s face.— in other words, self-defence at it's finest 😂 it was instinctive.

Jeonghan teaching self-defense was not a subplot, it was a prophecy.

Every time you see him again, he has changed somewhat, but also not quite at all. There will always be that inkling of mischief in his eye until the day he dies.— bahahah yes, until the day he does XD I think it's true for real life Jeonghan persona too.

“Because it’s true! Don’t you know that Y/N here used to – Ow! Again?!”— JEONGHAN!!! 😭😭

“I can’t believe you were about to reveal everything just then!”— why do I have a feeling that Seungkwan might overhear???

“Who’s that?” “Long story.” “I have time.”—thats so Jeonghan 🧍🏻‍♀️

But in the days that follow, Jeonghan’s words echo in your mind. You see Seungkwan less and less; every time you run into him, he seems to have an excuse on the tip of your tongue, and you can’t help but wonder what has happened.— did he overhear and now he's just avoiding?

There is an uncanny, knowing smile on his face. “Although, I might not need to leave so soon,” he drawls, “if I still have the opportunity to fulfill what I originally came here for.”— did HE overhear or put things together???? Oh lord, pls no!!

“Get up.” Seungkwan is, for lack of a better word, seething.— I'm sorry but that's HOT 🥵

It’s almost comical, the way that he walks away with a vindictive air about him. — thank lord he's walking away and not causing a scene!

“I saw you on my way to the training grounds, but you weren’t alone, so I just wanted to see what was going on,” he grimaces, “and I’m glad I did.”— that's so sweet and comforting and oddly romantic, too.

YES! He didn't overhear Jeonghan and Y/N, not that it would've been bad, but the way it turned out—is good.

“You deserve every good thing in this universe,” he tells you, “every beautiful moment that exists in time. But I can’t give that to you, no matter how much I wish I could, and it hurts to be near you when it’s all so very impossible.”— 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

“You just kissed me,” he says incredulously.— it just gave me all kinds of feelings in my stomach. So pure ngl.

Seungkwan smiles — a bright, gorgeous thing that could put even the sun to shame. — such a true and poetic line. His smile is really like that.

I loved this so so so much. Tysm Ashi, for writing this. I'll adore you forever ♾️

catch the rain ; boo seungkwan

summary: caught between a political alliance and the possibility of a prolonged freedom, you just can't help the easy lie that slips out of your mouth. now, you're left to deal with the consequences of putting up a front to your family, the court, and the rest of the kingdom.

pairing: boo seungkwan x f!reader

contains: historical/royalty au, childhood best friends to not friends to friends again to lovers, reader's surname is choi because scoups, fake engagement, cheol is married in this, bestie jeonghan coming in clutch

warnings: language/swearing, shady behavior from a dude (ew), mentions of war and blood

word count: 8.53k

a/n: it's finally done! many thanks to ro @shinysobi for beta reading and also jay @ppyopulii for your feedback <3 also this gorgeous gorgeous banner was made by jay too; they're literally a graphic genius & i am so thankful ❤️ i hope you guys enjoy!

tags: @mochacoda @ppyopulii (let me know if you'd like to be tagged!)

“And then there was chaos,” Jeonghan would say if he was here right now.

He wouldn’t be wrong, either. You can almost picture his smirk in your mind – you’re just standing motionlessly, watching as the ministers lose their minds and your father tries to process what you’ve just said for the entire court to hear. 

It has been several minutes since you’ve made the announcement, and there has not been a moment of calmness since then. Of course, you were aware that news of this nature would shock the general public to some extent, but you didn’t think it was that serious.

You watch nervously as your father calls for order, quieting the room down, and then turns to you.

“You are trying to tell me, child,” he says slowly, leaning back against his throne, “that you mean to marry General Boo’s son?”

“Yes.” The lie is bitter on your tongue, but you have no choice but to run with it, albeit a bit awkwardly. “He is the one I want to be with. I… I love him,” you add awkwardly, hoping nobody catches on.

“I see.” 

You must have sounded convincing enough because he doesn’t question you any further. Instead, he just chuckles to himself after a few seconds, relaxing his shoulders. 

“And all this time we were trying to find someone for you, suitor after suitor… Oh, my apologies, Doyun. I suppose your plans are not to come to fruition.”

At the corner of the table, the aforementioned young lord scowls in silence. You shudder, reminded of all the ways he had tried to court you – cornering you in some random hall of the palace and trying to come to your chambers at night. No matter how much you tried, for your father’s sake, you could not see yourself with him.

“Well, I suppose our search for a suitable groom is over,” your father continues, giving you a warm smile. “That is quite the relief, isn’t it?”

“Wait, you’re okay with this?”

“Why would I not be? I have seen the both of you grow from small children into promising adults, and Seungkwan is a good man,” he remarks kindly. “The court may have reservations, but that is irrelevant to me. I have none.”

Minister Park raises his hand tentatively. “But, Your Majesty –”

“Objections will not be heard,” he says, rejoicing merrily. “Let it be said, as far and wide as the kingdom goes. My daughter is to be married!”

It’s evident that the court is displeased with your choice, but they congratulate you regardless, not willing to risk their roles by further irritating the king. You play along as best as you possibly can, all smiles for everyone else. Clearly, your little lie was surprising enough for nobody to suspect a thing.

Doyun approaches you next, bowing slightly while making a face. You return it out of respect, though his mere presence around you is unsettling enough. 

“Congratulations, Your Highness,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “Boo Seungkwan must be over the moon, to be engaged to a woman like you.”

Shit. Seungkwan. 

You haven’t even told him yet. How can you justify such a huge lie you let slip in a moment of sheer panic?

How do you deliver news like this to someone you aren’t even on speaking terms with?

“Uh, yes. He is,” you reply, trying to suppress the alarm from reflecting onto your face. “We are very happy. Yes.”

“Yes, that is good,” he says, slightly amused.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay,” you tell him, bowing again. Internally, you grimace a little, trying to prevent the awkwardness of the situation from getting even worse. “And I hope there are no hard feelings, sir. I truly am sorry.”

“Of course not, Your Highness.” He doesn’t look like he believes you, but he accepts the apology nonetheless. You plaster a fake smile on your face until he finally walks away, leaving you by yourself.

“Thank god,” you mutter under your breath, looking for a way out. Your father is attempting to move on to the next topic, settling the court, and you use this moment to leave through the back doors, finally getting some space from all the chaos.

In the silence, the weight of your actions hits you suddenly. God, Seungkwan is going to kill you, you realize, for dragging him into something that isn’t his problem at all.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, assessing your next steps. Seungcheol – you could ask him for advice, although he might lecture you first. But you don’t know who else you could go to right now besides your brother.

Carefully, you slip into the hallway, making your way towards the library. It’s just barely evening, so you’re almost certain Seungcheol will be there. You pray you don’t run into anybody, making sure to stay quiet so nobody spots you away from the meeting you’re supposed to be at.

Immediately after you turn the next corner, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist tightly, pulling you aside.

“Wha– mmf!” Another hand comes up to cover your mouth, muffling any noises you make. 

Your brain is on high alert right now, and every single self-defense lesson Jeonghan has given you kicks in as you get dragged into a dark room. You struggle against the firm hold, elbowing your captor and delivering a particularly harsh kick to the inside of their knee in hopes that they’ll let you go.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

You’re about to do it again when you realize the man sounds strangely familiar for some reason. You stop trying to attack him and bite down on the hand that’s covering your mouth instead.

“Ow!” he exclaims again, clearly in pain. You almost feel bad, almost. “What is wrong with you, seriously!”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” you yell back, blindly following the wall to find the light. “I almost thought you were trying to kill me, and you still might be!”

“Why would I try to kill you?!”

The gears in your head start shifting as you finally get the light to work. The bulb illuminates the room as you turn to face the absolute last person you thought you were going to see today.

“Seungkwan,” you breathe, taken aback for a moment. You haven’t spoken to him in so long, and certainly not since he came back to the palace. Of course, you knew he had returned, but between all the things you had to do, you never got the chance to see him. Just looking at him now – his grown-out hair, and bruised knuckles – brings back a multitude of emotions. “What are you doing here?”

He just folds his arms, a deep frown crossing his features. “When were you going to tell me we’re getting married, Y/N?”

Shit. This is exactly the situation you were hoping to avoid. Seungkwan looks pissed off, and rightfully so.

“I’m so sorry,” you rush, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “I was at a court meeting, and everyone was pushing to hear some good news that I just didn’t have, and I just – I don’t know, I don’t know why I said your name first. I really didn’t mean to, Seungkwan, I’m really sorry.”

“So I was just convenient for you,” he says, scowling. “We haven’t spoken to each other in years, and you choose to throw me under the bus?”

“And whose fault is it?” You step closer, glaring up at him and all his audacity. “Whose fault is it that we haven’t spoken? I wrote to you almost every day for a year, and you decided to pretend I didn’t exist!”

“Did you expect me to drop all my responsibilities just for you? I was in the middle of a warzone, Y/N, I had bigger things to worry about than letters from home.”

Those words sting you into silence. Seungkwan has always been one to say things he doesn’t mean during a heated argument, but right now you have no way of knowing what’s actually on his mind.

“This is such a huge mess,” he says again after a few seconds, agitatedly running his hands through his hair. “Everyone thinks we’re actually engaged. We have to fix this somehow.”

“What, do you want me to go back and tell my father there will be no wedding because we hate each other's guts?”

“Ideally, yes.”

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “Seungkwan, I can’t do that!”

“And what about what I want?” It’s evident that his patience is running out, especially as his jaw tightens and his hands clench into fists. “What about my life? This is a huge decision that you made all by yourself and now I’m dragged into it for no reason other than knowing you!”

He’s right, and you know this, even as you open your mouth to retaliate. It’s certainly not fair; you aren’t even friends for you to rely on him like this right now. It was convenient – maybe that’s why Seungkwan’s name was the first on your tongue when you were being cornered with questions about your marriage.

Now, standing in front of him for the first time in years, you just miss him. You miss how close the two of you used to be, and the way things have changed makes your heart ache.

“I’ll go speak with my father right now,” you decide, peeling your eyes off of him and beelining for the door. “We still have time, we can play it off as a practical joke and pretend we had them all fooled —“

“No, wait, come back,” Seungkwan calls after a second’s hesitation, frowning again. “Don’t do that.”

“I thought you didn’t want this?”

“Absolutely not,” he grimaces, “but you’re going to cause so much trouble if you go and call it off now. Also, you’re almost twenty-five. Do you really think the court won’t push your father to make you marry Baek Doyun for political benefit? That man is a disgusting creep, especially considering all the things he’s done before.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon hearing that last part. “How do you know about that?”

“People talk,” he shrugs. “Never underestimate the palace attendants.”

“Oh, great.”

Seungkwan just observes you for a second. Those eyes have always been the most perceptive, ever since you were little kids. Not many things can get past him.

“Listen,” he starts, a little tentatively, “Baek hasn’t done anything to hurt you, has he?”

“No, never.”

“Good,” he sighs with something akin to relief. “Never liked the guy.”

You don’t question it; you barely have the energy to. Instead, you just lean against the wall, letting your head fall back onto the cement. 

“What do we do now?”

“For starters, we can’t actually get married.”

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’re acting like I want to be associated with you any more than I already am.”

“Clearly.”

“Shut up, Seungkwan.” 

The quiet reigns for a little while longer as you sit with him and your thoughts. Never in your life would you ever have expected things to come to this. 

“We could keep this going for a while and then say we called the engagement off,” you suggest, musing to yourself. “We could just say we realized we’re better off as friends.”

“Right,” he says under his breath, but you still hear it. Whatever. “That might be our only way out.”

You groan, dropping your head to your hands. “God, this is going to be the longest few months of my life.”

“You’re not the victim here,” Seungkwan reminds you. “I’m the one who got pulled into a relationship that I had no say in.”

There are no words on the tip of your tongue. How are you supposed to tell him you miss him while you’re still on wildly questionable terms? You can't even begin to express how badly you want things to go back to the way they were.

From where you’re standing, you sneak another glance at him. Seungkwan was always beautiful in the way that ceramics are; carefully created but also tangible, so easily slipped into daily life. 

You used to be my best friend, you catch yourself thinking as you watch him fiddle with the hem of his shirt. How did we get here?

“We should go,” you say instead. “I can’t go missing for too long before someone realizes I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

He pulls himself to his feet. “And where are you supposed to be, Your Highness?”

“Not here,” you quip, reaching for the door handle. “I really hope you’re a stellar actor, Seungkwan. Keeping secrets from the palace is far from easy.”

You receive nothing but a dismissive sigh in return. “Worry about yourself, okay? I’ll do just fine.”

Typical, you think, but the truth is that you’ve missed the quick sarcasm that is just so very Seungkwan. 

As you leave the room with him in tow, a sense of trepidation fills the pit of your stomach. All’s well that ends well, right? 

You aren’t sure. Right now, you can only hope that this is one of those things.

There is nobody in the palace that loves you quite like Seungcheol does.

Your father likes to recount the way he used to watch over you when you were learning how to take your first steps, the way he would start bawling if you so much as got a scratch on yourself as a child. Everyone knows he would draw blood for you in a heartbeat, if it ever came to it.

However, that is not evident right now. Instead, he’s giving you a stern look from his spot on his armchair, arms folded in an attempt to look intimidating. Beside him, your sister-in-law Seoyeon is curled up in the bed with her blanket, listening in out of curiosity.

“Let me get this straight,” he says once you’re done talking. “You weren’t engaged two hours ago.”

“Yes.”

“But now you are.”

“Yes.

“To Seungkwan?”

No part of you enjoys having to lie to your brother over something you wish you could just talk to him about, but you genuinely can’t risk a single person finding out about your coverup.

“Yes,” you respond again, wincing internally. 

Seungcheol seems to be slightly taken aback. He takes a long sip of his chamomile tea before saying anything, weighing the situation in his head.

“You’re sure about this?”

“I am.”

“You know I just worry about you,” he says gently. “It’s not that I don’t trust you to make your own decisions. I just want you to be happy, no matter what it takes.”

“I will be,” you assure him. “He… he makes me happy.”

It feels wrong to even say that, but it seems to be good enough for Seungcheol, who just gives a small smile at your words. 

“You know, I feel like most of us saw this coming,” he remarks. “Now that I think about it, I’m not that surprised.”

“Really?”

“Well, of course. You two were essentially inseparable when you were younger. Eventually you grew up and had to go off and do your own things, but that kind of bond doesn’t just disappear overnight, does it?”

Oh, he could not be more wrong about that. If Seungkwan was here right now, he’d probably start laughing out loud. 

“Right,” is all you say, mentally folding in on yourself. 

It’s late, and especially after your little altercation with Seungkwan earlier, you’re totally spent. It feels like you’ve lived several months within the span of a few hours. What you need right now is to be wrapped under your covers and block out all of today’s events. 

When you finally bid them goodnight and retreat to your own room, the fatigue hits you like a truck. It takes everything in you to change into your nightclothes and wash up before slipping into bed, wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

In the following days, you receive congratulations from nearly everyone, fielding a plethora of questions about the nature of your relationship. The lies come easily in the moment, but you make a mental note to get your story straight with Seungkwan later.

“You two make a dashing couple,” Jiwon, one of your ladies-in-waiting, tells you. “It was always so very obvious the young man was in love with you.”

This stops you in your tracks. “What?”

“Did you not know? There could be no other explanation for the way he looked after you,” she recollects. “Even when you weren’t aware, he was always around.”

Was that true? You have no way of knowing; you don’t remember much from your childhood or your adolescent years. Either way, all you see when he looks at you is years’ worth of resentment built up and settled like molten rock.

The hours you spend with yourself eventually blur into days that morph into weeks. You never see Seungkwan for more than an hour at a time, meeting only in the public eye or to keep each other posted on the situation. 

Somewhere, though, you think you feel the ice melting. His gaze on you is a bit warmer now, less disdainful than the first time you ran into him.

When the hour is late and you are alone, you find yourself toying with the gold band now resting on your finger. Seungkwan had given it to you last week, standing a bit awkwardly under the late afternoon sunlight.

“It was my mother’s,” he’d said quietly. The weight of the moment was enough; nothing else needed to be said as he easily slipped it on you, the metal cool against your skin.

You think about it often. With one sentence, you’ve turned such a meaningful item into a mere facade. There is no love between you and Seungkwan, at least not the way anyone would expect there to be. The relationship feels like a carefully calibrated hourglass. 

The second it’s over, the illusion will break.

The worst of it all is the public appearances, you realize. Like now, in the face of shining lights and endless smiles. This ball is in honor of you and your husband-to-be, your father had told you, but it feels like you’re being made to walk on thumbtacks for the whole kingdom to watch. To top it all off, your dress feels awfully restricting, and you want nothing more than peace and quiet.

Seungkwan is not so far from you, greeting people you can barely remember the names of. He looks painfully good tonight, dark brown hair pushed back in a way you’ve never seen before. His burgundy suit compliments him nicely, and you try to ignore how he’s managed to match certain tones of your dress.

Your eyes drift over to your brother and Seoyeon, calmly sitting at their places and watching the liveliness of the night. Seeing them exist in their own happy bubble makes you mourn what you can’t have. 

“Hey.” You jolt at the light touch of a hand on your shoulder, but upon turning around, it’s just your fiancé. “Doing alright?”

The sudden tenderness has you on edge, but you nod anyway. 

“Do you want to sit?”

“No, I’m okay,” you decline, looking everywhere, anywhere but his eyes. “You should dance, you know. That’s sort of the whole point of this thing.”

“But you’re not dancing,” Seungkwan huffs, lips pulled into a small pout.

“So?”

He looks down at you curiously now, mouth parting ever so slightly. “Why would I dance without you?”

That you don't know how to respond to. It reminds you too much of the way things used to be. A package deal, you used to call yourselves. 

Instead, you simply offer him your hand with a small smile. “Shall we, then?”

The feeling of his fingers intertwined with yours sends a rush of heat to your face that you can’t deny. This confuses you, he confuses you.

Or maybe it’s because you’ve had a little too much champagne tonight. You can’t tell which it is, and maybe it’s better that way.

Seungkwan looks a bit nervous as you pull him towards the dance floor, weaving in between swaying couples. You raise your eyebrows at him as if to ask, ‘What’s wrong?’

“I could not tell you the last time I had to do this,” he confesses shyly. “I really can’t dance.”

“All those years in the palace and nobody ever taught you?”

“Not the time.”

“Do as I say and you won’t fall on your face,” you instruct, pulling him a little closer to you. “Now put your right hand on my waist.”

Seungkwan just stares at you blankly. “You want me to what now?”

“Just do it,” you hiss, ignoring your heart doing double time. “Okay, good, just keep mirroring me now. There’s really nothing more to it.”

“Everyone makes this look a lot easier than it is,” he grumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Yes, you are far more nimble with a sword in your hand,” you tease lightly. “Spin me, would you?”

“As you wish,” he relents, twirling you carefully in time with the beat. There are onlookers now, cheering on your semblance of a happy couple, and you can feel everyone’s eyes on you. The music almost makes you forget everything that’s currently on your mind – no, nothing but the song and Seungkwan’s gentle hold on your waist to think about.

You make the mistake of meeting his eyes. Seungkwan freezes, your breath catching on the moment, and the next thing you know he’s stumbling over thin air, trying to keep himself on his feet.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry,” he’s apologizing to the people around him, giving you a pleading look that says I can’t do this. It’s hard to stifle the giggle that escapes your lips, and before you know it, you’re laughing with each other over the silliness of it all.

“You truly do have two left feet,” you remark, following him away from the dance floor. Seungkwan just chuckles in amusement.

“I did warn you before, you just chose not to believe me.”

“Well, my bad for trying to teach you something new today.”

“Trust me, your efforts were likely in vain.” He turns, eyes settling on you. There is something about this angle that makes him look a little ethereal. Maybe it’s the chandelier light illuminating the soft slope of his face.

“What is it?” you ask, when his gaze lingers a little too long. Seungkwan leans a little closer so you can hear him above the surrounding commotion. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, a tad delicately. “The maroon is a very nice color on you.”

“Oh. Thank you,” comes your unwieldy reply to the compliment that you weren’t expecting. “You clean up rather nicely, too.”

He was never good at taking any sort of flattery, and you recall this as you watch a light pink slowly coat his cheeks. It’s cute, you almost think, before kicking yourself for the stray notion.

“Your Lord Baek has been eyeing us all night,” he informs you, shedding his suit coat. “For what, I have no idea, but it’s a little weird, no?”

You scowl at him. “He’s not mine, don’t say that.”

“He would have been if it wasn’t for me ending up as your sacrificial lamb,” he points out, and you can’t argue against that. “I have half a mind to go over there and cause a scene.”

Your eyes widen with alarm. “Seungkwan, don’t do that!”

“I won’t,” he promises reluctantly, but you can tell it’s still bothering him for whatever reason. “When’s he leaving, anyway?”

“A few weeks, maybe?” You can’t remember exactly, but you must have overheard him speaking to your father about it a while ago. “In any case, soon. And thank god for it.”

Seungkwan hums in agreement, fingers idling on the edge of the table. He looks good in his vest, sleeves of his shirt rolled up to just below his elbows. You realize you like how his arms fill out the sleeves, unassumingly strong under the light fabric.

He takes another sip of his wine, pulling a face at the flavor, and looks at you with an impish glint in his eyes. “Do you want to leave?”

You give him a look. “Are you suggesting sneaking away from my own party?”

“Well, you definitely don’t look like you want to be here,” he notes, and he couldn’t be more correct. It makes you wonder how he still knows you so well after all this time. “So is that a yes, or…?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, already rising. “Please. Let’s get out of here.”

“Called it,” Seungkwan smirks, picking up his jacket and following as you slip through the crowd unnoticed. Your fingers just barely brush amidst the chaos, and you resist the urge to reach back and pull him along with you. 

The balcony is freeing, the gentle night breeze refreshing on your face. It’s a little cold, but you don’t really mind it just yet, ignoring it for the lovely view you’re taking in right now. 

“Feeling better?”

“A little.” You turn and look at him, mirroring your stance as he leans on the railing, observing you quietly. “Seungkwan, I’m sorry.”

His eyebrows raise in confusion as if to say, ‘What for?’

“All of this,” you say, vaguely gesturing towards the ballroom you’ve just left behind. “It’s a lot, and you didn’t ask for it.”

Seungkwan doesn’t meet the apologetic gaze you cast on him, stray strands of hair escaping his well-styled bangs. 

“It’s not the worst,” he points out. “Your father and brother don’t dislike me, which is what I was most worried about.”

“Are you kidding?” you ask, astonished. “That should be the least of your worries. They might like you more than me, honestly.”

He just laughs to himself, cheeks pink. “It’s nice of you to say that. Makes it a little easier to continue the act until our fake divorce.”

“We’re not married yet,” you remind him.

“Ah, right.”

It’s so easy to slip into a comfortable silence with Seungkwan, it always has been. You are not a woman of many words, and you like being able to bask in the quiet without constantly thinking of something new to say. 

In a way, not much has changed.

“So,” he starts, “how are we breaking this news to everyone?”

“I hadn’t thought that far yet,” you confess, pondering. “But everything’s gone by so fast, hasn’t it? A few months ago I was sort of doing my own thing and now I’m engaged to a guy who hates me.”

Seungkwan looks at you sharply, a peculiar expression on his face. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t need to lie to me, you know.”

“I’m being honest,” he insists, taking a step closer to you in earnest. “Was I upset when I found out what happened? Yeah, of course. Was it awkward that that was how we reconnected after a long time apart? Sure. But I can never, in good conscience, say that I hate you.” 

“That is certainly a relief,” is what you come up with after struggling for a few seconds. “Again, I’m really sorry for dragging you into this. At least you can enjoy the status of prince consort-to-be for a while,” you joke.

Seungkwan just frowns. “Y/N, I don’t care about the title. I care about you.”

The abrupt confession catches you off guard, more than you’d like to admit. You don’t know what to say to that, but you believe every word.

“We’ve been friends for so many years,” he continues with a soft smile. “You aren’t just anyone to me.”

Oh, you wish you had a wine glass in your hand right now. You can’t be sober for this, you think, as you return his warm demeanor while a strange feeling settles in your stomach.

“Good to know,” you manage. “That does ease my mind a little.”

“I’m glad.”

Seungkwan’s eyes shine under the moon’s soft glow. It takes you back to when you were a little girl, so hesitantly enamored by him and his heartfelt presence in your life. The wind stings your eyes, blowing away the memory, and then he is asking you if you want to go back inside.

“Go ahead,” you tell him, “I’ll be out in a bit.”

He lingers beside you still, like he’s wondering whether to insist or not. You place a careful hand on his arm.

“I just need a few minutes more of fresh air,” you explain. “I’ll join you soon, I promise.”

Wordlessly, he nods, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and draping it over your own. His fingertips barely graze your skin, but for some reason, you are hyper-aware of it.

“Stay warm,” he says, voice tinged with concern. “Please don’t catch a cold.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.” He smiles again, a sun in the night’s darkness. 

The moment is tender, like if you don’t reach out and grab it, it’ll slip through your fingers. You refrain from saying anything in response as he leaves you to yourself, looking over your shoulder as he walks away.

“Don’t make me fall in love with you,” you murmur softly, but Seungkwan is already gone.

The day Jeonghan returns, there is a downpour from hell.

You’ve been cozying up in your usual nook of the library as it rains outside, curled up in one of the large armchairs with a rather interesting novel in your lap. Engrossed in the pages, you don’t notice anything amiss until you hear a familiar, silvery voice near your ear.

“Miss me yet, Your Highness?”

The sudden greeting almost has you jumping, and your first instinct is to turn around and slam your heavy book into the man’s face.

“Ow!” Jeonghan clutches his nose, face contorted in pain. Seungkwan stands behind him, leaning on a bookshelf and watching the scene with amusement. “What was that for?!”

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t know it was you!” You rise to your feet, checking him for any signs of serious injury. “You know I have violent reflexes, you knew better than to do that!”

“I come home from war and the first thing you do is attack me?!”

Seungkwan just shrugs from his spot. “Don’t look at me. I told him not to do it.”

“Very helpful,” Jeonghan huffs, poking and prodding at his now swollen nose. “What a warm welcome the two of you are giving me, really, considering how few and far between our reunions are.”

You soften at that, going in for a long overdue hug. He smells of rusted metal and fresh soil, likely from his long time spent on the battlefield. His hair is longer now, tied back and out of his face with a simple cloth string, and he looks a little more weary than last time.

Every time you see him again, he has changed somewhat, but also not quite at all. There will always be that inkling of mischief in his eye until the day he dies.

“So,” Jeonghan says, still nursing his sore nose, “the second I leave the kingdom is when you two decide to get engaged, huh?”

You and Seungkwan exchange a look that’s somewhere between surprise and alarm. He shakes his head ever so slightly, answering the question you didn’t need to ask. 

No, not just yet.

“And you didn’t even write to me!” Jeonghan sulks, giving the two of you a betrayed look. “I can’t believe you had the gall to fall in love and not tell me about it.”

“Um…” You are not quite sure what to say to that, considering it wasn’t what happened at all. “Surprise?”

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m not so shocked. I knew this was bound to happen at some point.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Seungkwan grumbles.

“Because it’s true! Don’t you know that Y/N here used to – Ow! Again?!”

You glare at Jeonghan as he recovers from your swift punch. “Keep your mouth closed and I might not attack you a third time.”

“You are insane,” he scolds you, massaging his arm. “I don’t even see what the problem here is.”

As a last desperate effort, you implore him with pleading eyes to stay silent. He doesn’t look like he understands what’s going on, but he relents anyway, leaving the subject of your childhood crush alone.

“What?” Seungkwan laughs, eyes darting between the both of you. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you blurt out, a little too fast. Jeonghan has to physically look down to conceal the laugh that’s threatening to bubble out of his throat at any moment, and you can tell. “Seungkwan, shouldn’t you be at training right now, anyways?”

“Well, yes, but Jeong–”

One pointed look from you is enough to silence him, it’s almost funny. “Yes ma’am,” he gives in ruefully. “I suppose I’ll see you after I get beat up to the point of exhaustion, then. Visit me on my deathbed.”

“Seungkwan, you’ll be fine.”

After a bit of grumbling, he finally leaves – you wait until he’s out of earshot before fixing Jeonghan with a pointed glare.

“Yoon Jeonghan, you little bastard.”

“Now that is hardly appropriate language for a princess,” he remarks, promptly receiving a well-aimed smack from you.

“I can’t believe you were about to reveal everything just then!”

“Why are you so pressed about it? He’s literally your fiancé!” Jeonghan’s face falls a little at your prolonged silence. “Oh. There is something you’re not telling me.”

“You’re either going to be so mad or you will laugh at me,” you say truthfully.

“I really hope it’s the latter. Please don’t hit me again,” he adds, ready to dodge you. “Alright, what is it?”

“Well, Seungkwan and I…” You wince, trying to word this correctly. “We aren’t actually engaged.”

Jeonghan just stares at you, confused. “What? But you’ve got a ring and everything!”

“I know,” you sigh, absentmindedly fiddling with the golden band, “but it’s all fake.”

He blinks once, then again, still processing. “So there will be no wedding?”

“Nope. We’re planning on calling it off right after Doyun departs.”

“Who’s that?”

“Long story.”

“I have time.”

Where do you even start? The past month and a half has been such a chaotic blur that you don’t know what to begin with. Agitated, you put your head in your hands, tugging at your hair. 

“You’re frustrated,” Jeonghan observes.

“Nice one, genius.”

“You know,” he says conversationally, “I don’t think you would be so upset if you didn’t have any feelings.”

You raise your head, distraught. “Feelings about what?”

Jeonghan gives you a look. “I think you know exactly who I'm talking about.”

His words take no more than a couple of seconds to click, gears shifting in your brain. You pin him with a stern glare.

“I do not like Seungkwan.”

“I didn’t even say it was Seungkwan,” he replies, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“But you were thinking it!”

“Well, you are not a psychic.”

A part of you wonders if you should never have confessed to your inconsequential crush all those years ago. After all, it had just been a result of confusing feelings at a young age, when you were just learning what being in love felt like.

But things are different now. You and Seungkwan have comfortably fallen back into your friendship, and it’s as easy as breathing. The last thing you need is old emotions resurfacing and ruining it all.

“That was a long time ago,” you say, not sure if you’re trying to convince Jeonghan or yourself. “It’s not like that anymore. Either way, I’m not sure how often I’ll see him after this whole thing is over.”

“More than you will see me,” he quips. “Really, Y/N, you know that he cares very much about you.”

“He didn’t talk to me when he was away for years,” you sulk.

He’s quiet – you know it’s because you’re right, and neither of you have an explanation for a question only Seungkwan can answer. 

But in the days that follow, Jeonghan’s words echo in your mind. You see Seungkwan less and less; every time you run into him, he seems to have an excuse on the tip of your tongue, and you can’t help but wonder what has happened.

You don’t say anything, though, with fear that you might scare him away if you bring it up. Instead, you leave it be, letting him stay at arm’s length and ignoring the dull ache you feel when he’s not around.

And sometimes, you wonder whether Jeonghan might have been onto something. The idea keeps you up at night, into the hours just before daylight knocks on your window. 

One night in particular has you strangely restless, unable to fall asleep even though the clock reads half past four in the morning. Your room feels awfully stuffy, like you’re cornered into one place, and the sudden need for fresh air overcomes you. Exhausted, you pull on some warmer clothes before slipping into the hall, heading for the gardens near the extensive training grounds.

You used to come here all the time when you were younger, too, always your safe haven. There is something about being surrounded by nature that puts you at ease. Like now, as you settle in your spot on the bench, chin in the palm of your hand.

However, your peace is abruptly interrupted at the sound of careful footsteps. You turn, and grimace at the sight of your unwelcome visitor. 

“It seems quite unsafe for a young woman to be out alone at this time,” Doyun says, approaching you slowly. 

“The palace is fairly secure, sir,” you reply curtly. “I wonder what you are doing roaming around before the sun is even up.”

“I am set to depart at dawn,” he informs you, taking a seat as well. Instinctively, you move over to put space between you and him. 

“Then I wish you a safe journey.”

There is an uncanny, knowing smile on his face. “Although, I might not need to leave so soon,” he drawls, “if I still have the opportunity to fulfill what I originally came here for.”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“I have to admit, you and your friend play the part of a happy couple amusingly well. Almost had me fooled,” he says. “But every act has a weak link.”

“Sir, this isn’t what you think it is –”

“Oh, but it’s exactly that. And it was a smart plan, too. It’s such a shame you couldn’t see it through.”

You fold in on yourself, somewhat of a shield against the early morning breeze. “What are you trying to say?”

“Just that your father might appreciate a heads up about your little arrangement.” The expression he’s wearing fills you with dread. “Don’t you think he deserves to know what’s happening under his nose?”

“Nothing is happening,” you reiterate. “Don’t involve yourself in things that do not require your input.”

“Does this not involve me?” he asks incredulously, shifting closer. “I’ve traveled all this way only to be abruptly shoved aside for a farce. Do you not think it’s unfair?”

You open your mouth to retaliate, but you’re beat to it.

“Get up.”

Seungkwan is, for lack of a better word, seething. His face is pulled into that serious frown he wears whenever he’s particularly displeased. You stand slowly, slightly confused as to how he knew you were here.

“No, not you,” he says, eyes softening as they flicker over to you for just a second. “Do I have to tell you twice? Get up.”

Doyun rises to his feet, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “Is that how you speak to your guests?”

“Yes. Particularly those who wear out their welcome.” 

The tension is thick in the air. The feeling of being caught red-handed has somewhat settled, but you have no way of knowing what’s going to happen next.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” Doyun snickers. “You are just a soldier boy with nothing to your name.”

“He’s much more than that,” you say sharply, “and I pity your ignorance to the fact.”

“Come on, Y/N –”

“That’s my fiancée you’re talking to. You will address her properly,” Seungkwan cuts in. His voice is harsh, and his anger is evident through the glare he’s currently sporting. “You are not fit to even speak her name.”

Caught up in the conversation, you hadn’t realized how much time has passed, but the first few rays of sunlight are beginning to peek out over the horizon. It’s getting a little warmer now, the gardens bathed in the minimal sunshine. 

Doyun just shakes his head. “You two are impossible to reason with,” he says. “If you cannot clearly see how bad of an idea this is, Your Highness, then I suppose I will have to cut my losses. But don’t expect any sort of cooperation if you find yourself running back.”

“Fine by me,” you snap, tired of the conversation already..

It’s almost comical, the way that he walks away with a vindictive air about him. You don’t even clock the sigh of relief you let out when his silhouette disappears in the morning fog, sinking back into the wooden bench.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan takes the first hesitant step towards you, then another. You just scowl up at him in annoyance.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” you say menacingly. “I can’t believe you’ve been avoiding me for so long and this is how you resurface again.”

“I wasn’t –”

“Please, Seungkwan, I’ve had a long day and the sun is barely even up yet.” You rub your temples, a headache already starting to form. “How did you find me, anyway?”

“You’re always here.” He says it simply, like it’s just a fact of life. “I saw you on my way to the training grounds, but you weren’t alone, so I just wanted to see what was going on,” he grimaces, “and I’m glad I did.”

“Right,” you mutter. “I hope pretending to care about me has made you feel infinitely better about yourself.”

Seungkwan frowns. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I don’t hate you until you finally believe me?” He looks at you pleadingly, but what exactly he’s asking of you, you can’t really tell. “Do you honestly think I would have played along all this time if I disliked you at all?”

“Seungkwan, I’m tired.” You put your head in your hands, overwhelmed. “Doyun will be gone in a couple of hours, so you can pull out of this anytime you want.”

“Y/N –”

“Please.”

It’s ironic how even through your various disagreements it’s easy to understand each other’s unfinished sentences. Seungkwan releases a pained exhale.

“Fine,” he says softly. “We’ll talk later.”

A part of you feels guilty that no matter how much time or space you’ve needed, he has always been ready to give it to you, and all you do is take. Maybe after a few hours’ rest you’ll feel up to speaking to him again, you think, watching his retreating figure with a dull ache in your chest. 

The sun is up, and the morning dew is long gone. You have no choice but to face another day.

“You’re the biggest idiot to ever walk this earth.”

Those had been Yoon Jeonghan’s parting words to you. You felt like you might cry as you hugged him tightly, hoping he’d carry the fond memories through the next several months he would be away. Seungkwan had stood a little behind the two of you, just out of earshot, though you knew he was trying not to tear up, too.

“You might be right,” you mumbled, eyes on the ground. “It’s all going to crash and burn, and then he and I will never speak again.”

“Well, you never know. But if you don’t do anything about it, I will personally come find you and hunt you down.” Jeonghan chuckled, a tiny twinkle in his eye. “When I come back, you better have married the man for real.”

“Jeonghan!”

He had just laughed, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Trust me, Your Highness. I have a good sixth sense about these things.”

That had been several hours ago, and your last real conversation with Seungkwan was even further in the past. 

Things had gotten busy, and between the days that whirled by the two of you hadn’t properly talked. And it stings, knowing the distance between you and your best friend is slowly growing, but you don’t even know if he wants to hear from you right now.

There are so many things you want to say and not enough words. The emotions dance on the tip of your tongue, but no further. But for how long now?

No. 

You toss your book aside in frustration. Enough of the constant restlessness and anxiety; you can’t keep living like this, you realize, hoarding all the things you feel in your brain. The sudden burst of courage has you on your feet, nearly sprinting to your door.

When you open it, Seungkwan is already standing there.

“Oh,” you blurt out. His arm is still raised to the door, as if he was just about to knock, and his feet are frozen to the ground in front of you. He looks a little disheveled, like he’s been running. “Come in?”

Seungkwan hesitates for just a second before following you through the doorway. “Thank you,” he says gently. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“No, you weren’t,” you say, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Did you need something?”

There is a moment’s silence. The words he hasn’t said yet hang suspended in the air, and you wait for them apprehensively.

“I figured we should come out with the truth now,” he says slowly, eyes darting everywhere but you. “You know, now that there aren’t any more reasons not to.”

You can’t put a name to the rush of emotion in your body. You should be relieved right now. Why aren’t you? A deep trepidation fills you instead, settling in your bones, but you don’t dare to put your finger on the reason behind it. 

“Right,” you say curtly. “We probably should.”

Seungkwan sighs, the exhaustion evident in his rounded shoulders. He pulls the stool he’s sitting on closer to you, placing a comforting hand on your wrist.

“It’s for the best,” he assures you. “You heard what Baek Doyun said that day.”

You’re already shaking your head before he finishes the sentence. “No, Seungkwan, he’s wrong.”

“You deserve every good thing in this universe,” he tells you, “every beautiful moment that exists in time. But I can’t give that to you, no matter how much I wish I could, and it hurts to be near you when it’s all so very impossible.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the honest, tender words. “What are you saying?”

Seungkwan smiles ruefully. “I am just the son of a soldier, Y/N. I have nothing more to offer you than the blood on my hands.”

“That is not true,” you say earnestly. “If it were, you know my father would never have agreed to all of this.”

“I don’t care about your father’s approval!” The words leave his mouth with a burst of frustration that surprises you. “The only opinion I choose to worry about is yours. You have to know that.”

“Why?”

The look in his eyes is one you could never forget – it’s vulnerable, with a hint of something else you can’t quite place. It scares and exhilarates you at the same time.

“Please don’t make me answer that question,” he whispers softly, mere inches from your face.

Something propels you to reach forward wordlessly, your hands gently cradling Seungkwan’s face. Come here, your fingertips say. Let me heal you. Come home.

Slowly, carefully, you bring your mouth to his. It’s everything one would think it shouldn’t be — hesitant, nerve wracking — but it’s right. 

When you pull away, he’s looking at you in awe.

“You just kissed me,” he says incredulously.

You reach for him, taking his hand in yours. It’s calloused and rough, and yet it feels just right against your own smooth palm.

“If the only thing you can give me is the blood on your hands,” you murmur, “then I gladly accept.”

For all of the next few seconds, Seungkwan does not move. And then, you feel his fingers encircling your wrist, his other hand coming up to carefully hold the back of your neck.

The kiss is both searing and soothing, somehow. He tastes faintly of tangerines, the citrus flavor tangy on your mouth, and his lips are impossibly soft as they move against yours. You could freeze time and stay here forever, you think, in the arms of a man who knows you like it’s the only way home. It’s something strangely akin to heaven on earth.

“I hope you meant every second of that,” you tell him, when you come up for air.

Seungkwan smiles — a bright, gorgeous thing that could put even the sun to shame. 

“Every second,” he answers. It’s a promise. “Every moment in time. For as long as you will let me.”

Dear Jeonghan,

You will be elated to know that I am no longer the idiot you proclaimed I was. Sure, I was being a little stupid, but aren’t we all sometimes? And you can’t say you aren’t, because I have many stories to prove you wrong.

In other news, Seungkwan and I have called off our engagement. For the time being, at least. We wanted to have some time to just be, you know? Take this relationship at our own pace, and make up for all the lost time we had spent dancing around each other instead. It turns out we were equally apprehensive about our feelings and ended up avoiding each other for weeks on end, can you believe that? 

Actually, you probably can. I bet you knew how he felt this whole time, you devil.

You know, I was a little afraid to tell Father and Seungcheol the truth, but they were quite understanding about it. It feels lighter now, too, without this secret to carry. You were right.

It’s summer now, and most everything seems right with the world. Only thing left is having you back here — Seungkwan will never say it to your face, but he complains about missing you nearly every day, as do I. 

Anyways, I’ll try and keep this short. Come back safely, okay? When Seungkwan and I do eventually start planning our wedding, we want you to be there for it. It wouldn’t be the same without you.

Okay, I will really leave you to it this time. Write us back when you can; it is always wonderful to hear from you.

Lots of love, 

Y/N (and Seungkwan!)

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, your support means a lot to me! much love, ashi xx

[pansexualandscared]

Hi just read This is How You Lose the Time War because one of the campers at the sleepaway camp i work at handed it to me, looked me dead in the eyes, and said “read this. it’s the best thing i’ve ever read” and how can you not trust a 15 year old who is also holding an N.K. Jemison book with your life.

So I read it in a day and cried about it and now i cannot describe this feeling i have in my chest. I need everyone else to read this now, i want to hug this book to me forever, i don’t ever want to speak to anyone again, “I want to meet you in every place I ever loved. Listen to me. I am your echo. I would rather break the world than lose you.”

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

"I remember holding him, and then there was a bright light, and then I felt warm."

[cityandking]

every week we play avira and every week I am chewing at the bars of my cage waiting to play avira again

[hemo--goblins]

alright you guys were a little early but you can come back now and claim your prize

uh oh i saw the new pathetic meow meow

[naniskys]

thanks for the tag @dramalets :) 🫶🫶

Rules: without naming them, post 10 gifs of your favorite TV shows, then tag 10 people.

ngl this was surprisingly hard, i can do top 5 but after that there's plenty of shows that i've enjoyed and i couldn't rlly narrow it down 😅

tagging @xinhua-jun @winnysatang @distant-screaming @cornflowershade @quodekash @spicypussywave @katerinaptrv @dimplesandfierceeyes @blackstar-gazer and anyone else who wants to do it !!! (no pressure :))

[rae-a-licious]

OH MY GOD OH MY FUCKING GOD

YOU WEAR FINE THINGS WELL

HELLOOOOOOOO??!?????

[sophiethewitch1]

why is it that whenever im not paying attention i go straight back to psychologically torturing www!reader

[ourceliumnetwork]

i was going to say i hate when i'm right but actually i enjoy the sensation of being correct even if i don't like the thing i was right about. So I'm very happy to be right so often, actually (especially now that no one in my life is actively trying to gaslight me)

[transexualpirate]

"u don't know my alphabet" is changing my brain chemistry as we speak i will start saying that every time someone wants me to label my sexuality despite me saying i don't fw that

[b0amagination]

This is my FAVORITE example of the second to last prompt. It's a two minute clip in French with English subtitles <3

I like the light face pats/slaps that are kind of aggressive-affectionate, except the relationship IS NOT LIKE THAT

Face pats

Content: noncon touch, injuries

Like with secret whump, whumper obnoxiously getting handsy with whumpee, who has to laugh and pretend to like it even though the "pats" sting

Or pre-party, whumper's hands going down whumpee's body making sure they're all dressed and in shape for showing off, finally ending with a pat-pat on the cheek and "look at you, outshining me."

Pats an arm after a beating, revealing just how hurt whumpee still is as they hiss in pain and clutch protectively over the spot

Or with captive whump, whumpers pretending to sympathize and whumpee jerking their face away with a grimace

Mocking little slaps with the rhetorical questions and "huh? Huh?" Turning into real slaps when whumpee doesn't answer

Light slaps to whumpee's face to make them flinch toward the camera

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[love-byers]

DM-GATE (a st/byler theory)

if you saw this last night, strap in. because this post is about that

so me and @reo-bylerwagon were talking about how weird mike's dialogue is in s4, specifically in his monologue. it's so....corny. his monologue just doesn't sound like stranger things. mike just doesn't talk like that ever. characters who are overly dramatic and corny are made fun of by other characters. the show just doesn't train you to accept something as corny as mike's monologue, especially from MIKE. mike just isn't that kind of character.

we also pointed this dramatic dialogue between mike and will in the van. will's monologue to mike is very sweet but the dialogue is kind of corny too. will compares mike to a knight in shining armor, leading and inspiring as the heart of the party.

and i, in a moment of completely oblivious genius, said "honestly in the monologue he uses the same voice he does when he's dm"

if you don't know what dm is, it means dungeon master. the dungeon master is the one in dnd who leads the adventure, the organizer.

this is the role mike has in season 1 when they're playing dnd. will is also dm in s3 when they briefly play, right before the byler rain fight. eddie is the only other character we see be dm.

dms have to be eccentric, they have to act. they have to be convincing. they have to lead and guide.

in the painting will gives mike, the party are depicted as their dnd characters. so no one can even say this isn't connected to dnd.

"See how you're leading us? You're guiding the whole party, inspiring us. That's what you do.

See your coat of arms here? It's a heart. I know it's sort of on the nose, but that's what holds this whole party together. Heart. Because, I mean, without heart, we'd all fall apart."

in the monologue when will calls back to their conversation in the van, this is symbolic of mike reverting back to his role as dungeon master, as leader. if mike has to lie in the monologue, of course he would pull from a role he's played where he makes things up and sounds convincing.

@reo-bylerwagon gave the best line ever, "he's being the mike in the painting"

and the craziest part is that's CANON. mike is inspired by what will says, he takes it to heart. he feels more confident. he tries to be the mike in the painting. it should be easy, to speak from his heart to el, but it's not, because he's not in love with her. in the monologue, mike is doing the same thing he does when he's dm. he's performing. he's trying to be convincing. he's trying to guide, to inspire.

also, @reo-bylerwagon said that will pushing mike to giving the monologue is giving "MIKE YOUR ACTION!!" WHICH IS SO FUCKING TRUE😭😭

after this realization i went back and watched the scenes where mike is dming. the VERY FIRST LINE OF DIALOGUE we hear in the show is mike dming. "Something is coming, something hungry for blood." and the second line?

i could never put a finger on why mikes language in the monologue seemed so weird. it's because he's talking like a dm. he's using the dramatic language dms use during a dnd session.

@reo-bylerwagon also pointed out that mike and will are piggybacking off of dnd to save el. everyone in the final fight was piggybacking.

will set the stage, mike executed. 

also, i mentioned the only other character see be dm besides mike and will is eddie.

and what is eddie's big moment in s4?

Master of Puppets.

MASTER. OF PUPPETS. DUNGEON MASTER. DUDE.

and another thing

we've all seen this, but it's not only that mike and will's characters are on the book.

it's a dungeon masters guide.

with mike and will's characters on it.

mike and will. the only party members we've seen be dungeon masters.

COME THE FUCK ON.

AND ANOTHER THING

"Dude, that's the donation box."

"I know, I'll just use yours when I come back. I mean...if we still wanna play."

"Well yeah but...what if you want to join another party?"

"Not possible."

this is a dm i got like 2 years ago that changed my brain chemistry:

this is NOT a reach. everything in st is compared to dnd. the duffers are massive dnd nerds. it is not unbelievable that they'd connect this to dnd as well.

[charliemwrites]

Ur nikto krueger konig meowmeow neighbor au had my hand itching and i cannot resist itchy urges so i hope u like it

sorry i couldn't find any descriptions of Little Guy so i just whipped up a black Scottish fold hihi

and also Shithead Susan chaos-ing Krueger's hood from the game

I love love love everything u write and i hope the passion is there for whatever subject/project u desire and forever (๏ᆺ๏υ)

Oh. Oh my god? My heart 😭😭 thank you thank you thank you for this!!!!! They’re absolutely perfect and I adore your art style. Konig and Nikto having a great time and Krueger out here struggling with Shithead Susan 💕💕💕

This means so fucking much to me oh my god. Seriously you have no idea. It’s changing my brain chemistry as we speak. I could go on and on.

I hope you get the sweetest dreams, the comfiest blankies, and the best drawing inspo ❤️

[oven3bird]

“I had such a crush on you when we were younger.”- Tim admits, calmly, like that information didn't just change the chemistry of Kon's brain forever.

“I'm in love with you.”- Kon blurts out, fuck being lowkey, no flirting, no nothing; he needs to speak his true -”I been in love with you for so long it feels like it's engraved into my soul, I want to be by your side forever, as a friend, as an ally, as anything you need me to be.”

Tim stares at him. Kon can feel his eyes even under the domino, his heart rate accelerates.

“If I had come out during YJ would you- would you have dated me?- Kon stumbles, he doesn't know why he's asking, it will only hurt him.

“Yes.”- Tim responds without missing a beat, but he doesn't continue, he doesn't move, his heart rate is going back to normal.

The answer is clear, Kon doesn't speak again.

[kumkaniudaku]

The Lady in Pink

Summary: Terry realizes his feelings run deeper than he though.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)

Word Count: 2,006

Warnings: None

Take a seat in pairs. Put away your books and notes. Prepare for a game of Pop Quiz. 

Instructions rattled off in Mr. Turner’s patented Kentucky drawl sounded more like an auctioneer’s ramblings than anything remotely coherent. Still, Terry settled into a stool behind the high black countertops in the back of their 5th period forensic’s lab. 

If Terry were honest, he hadn’t cracked open his textbook in days despite a looming chapter test at the end of the week. He’d get to it eventually. Between trying to impress scouts every Friday, another year of book club, and college prep, finding the time to study fingerprinting was low on the priority list. If not for Patrice, he’d be hovering around a measly D+ instead of his modest B-. She kept him steady, especially in impromptu group quizzes. 

Sliding into the seat beside Terry, Patrice pushed a perfectly curled tendril behind her ear and adjusted her glasses, unaware of the chain reaction she’d set off. Ear perked like a dog hearing its name roll from the lips of its owner. Eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in every detail from her gold hoop earrings, to her pink strawberry printed cardigan and skin tight jeans. Terry watched her in a haze of teenaged longing and romantic feelings starting to change his brain chemistry in ways he hadn’t prepared for. The more time they spent rubbing shoulders during weekend hang outs and talking about the future, the more some unidentifiable emotion blossomed in his heart. 

His mother said he liked Patrice a few weeks back. “Close,” he thought to himself though he vehemently denied it to maintain his privacy. Whatever this new thing was extended far past surface level ‘like’. He ‘liked’ Theresa Allen sophomore year. She was a cool girl, but she didn’t make him happy the way a Saturday at the mall with Patrice made him happy. 

He ‘liked’ golfing with his dad on occasion. Though the sport was too slow for his taste, smelling fresh cut grass in the breeze and drinking bland sweet tea along side the man he looked up to most was always fun. 

He ‘liked’ a slice of apple pie sometimes. It wasn’t his favorite, but he could go for a piece if the mood hit him. 

Liking Patrice was long gone. This new thing, complete with uncontrollable thoughts and a newfound desire to know how her lip gloss tasted on his lips, was something else entirely.

“I like your sweater,” he complimented before she could greet him. “It’s nice. Where’d you get it?” 

Patrice giggled. “Thanks, TJ. My auntie made it for me. She’ll be your biggest fan when I tell her what you said.” Her attention flittering to chatter on the other side of the room gave Terry another opportunity fox his daily fix of silent admiration. Yeah, this wasn’t like. This something all consuming and entirely overwhelming. 

When she’d had her fill of observing her surrounding, Patrice looked back at Terry to speak.

“You ever get to chapter five,” she asked, looking over at her best friend. Ogling turned into a black stare and a twinge of guilt forcing him to look away from her expectant gaze. She kissed her teeth. “TJ…” 

“I know, I know,” Terry groaned. “I’ll be caught up when we study Wednesday, I promise. You want me to bring your favorite?” White chocolate covered pretzels always did the trick. Minor disagreements, his own absentmindness, and everything in between could be cured with her snack of choice. He watched her break into a slow smile and nod. “Yeah, I thought so. You got it. Hand to God.”

“You better. Especially after I carry us through this quiz.” 

“Oh you mean like how I carried us through the calc assignment last week?” A friendly nudge to Terry’s shoulder from Patrice pushed them both over the edge into a pit of giggles. 

Like two parts of a whole, Terry and Patrice made up the slack where the other lacked. Number crunching and complex math theory was like child’s play to Terry. He enjoyed the grueling process of combining letters and numbers to come to a finite conclusion. As he put it one evening over the phone, math came with logical conclusions. Even if you had ten ways to get to it, there was only one right answer. Patrice let him drone on and on most nights until he provided the solution for her to work her way out of a maze of erased possibilities into whatever would get her the coveted check mark and passing grade she was chasing. 

Patrice took over the words and menial task of remembering facts. If Terry needed to know a summary of To Kill A Mockingbird’s core themes or what exactly John Steinbeck was trying to get across in Of Mice and Men, he knew he could ask one question to send Patrice off into a winding tangent. Her ability to simplify colorful language was one of his favorite things. His second, was watching her adjust the satin ribbon in her ponytail before one of Mr. Turner’s famous pop quizzes. 

As she gave the pink bow a firm tug, Mr. Turner passed around buzzers for each group. “The rules are simple folks. One spokesperson for the group. You get five seconds to answer after buzzing in. No answer loses points. First group to 25 gets their lowest grade bumped up by 15 points. Any questions pupils?” 

“Can Patrice and Terry split up this time? I really need these points.” 

Mr. Turner shook his head as his finger wagged in the air. “No easy wins in this class! Earn it!” 

Low chuckles rumbled throughout the classroom at the tandem’s expense, earning a quiet eye roll from Patrice. Three school years in and she still hadn’t made much progress with some classmates through no fault of her own. 

Terry shot daggers across the room to the culprit before leaning over to offer comfort. “Forget her. She could get as many points as she wants and still wouldn’t pass.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Patrice shrugged. “I don’t lose. Only answer if you’re sure.” 

A smile crept across Terry’s face while he watched Patrice settle into her seat, cracking her knuckles before delicate fingers settled on the big red button between them. Competitive Patrice was one of his favorite version of his best friend. Typically, she didn’t involve herself with the taunting, name calling, and brute force of competition. She thought football and boxing were barbaric despite Terry convincing her to spend more time with his two hobbies. Physical battles were never her thing. But mental warefare? She loved demoralizing her opponents with with wit, finding great pleasure in brain games regardless of reward. Diamond Presscott had unfortunately put herself into Patrice’s sniping scope. Doomed. The girl was doomed. 

Question one. Mr. Turner shuffled through notecards and settled on the first opportunity for five points. “What is the purpose of cranial features?” 

“They allow the skull to grow!” Their shared buzzer could barely light the blinker on their station before Patrice was off to the races with an answer. 

“Correct! Way to be quick.” 

Terry offered his knuckles for Patrice to pound, receiving a light push away so she could focus. “When we win,” she muttered without looking in his direction. 

“My bad, champ. Go ahead.” He chuckled.

Back and forth she and Mr. Turner went as if they were the only two people in existence. Terry observed in awe, mouth slightly ajar at the beauty sitting beside him. 

“The size of a shotgun is described by?” 

“Gauge.” 

“Handwriting’s individuality is classified as?” 

“Class evidence.”

“What are the three types of forgery?” 

“Blind, simulated, and traced!” 

Each question met with a correct answer and beaming smile from Mr. Turner earned assorted groans from students well aware that the points they needed were firmly snatched from their grasps before they truly had a chance. 

Patrice didn’t care. Call it an unfair advantage or being a teacher’s pet – it mattered not to a young girl intent on reaching the highest academic heights possible. She’d do it all again the next day and the one after for the thrill of seeing smug smiles turned into tight frown. 

Terry was more than happy to be on the other side. Being in her orbit was gift from God himself and, as he found himself fully engrossed in every soft bounce of her ponytail and glint of light reflecting off shiny, full lips, he couldn’t help but to send a quick thank you to the man upstairs. 

He liked Patrice when he met her. Every moment spent side by side in book club meetings and study hall sessions left him giddy once he returned home. He liked her smile and her sense of humor. He like the deep dimple in her right cheek. He liked how she wore her hair, the vanilla body mist she wore, how she tapped her pencil when she was thinking, and her way of infusing smart sarcasm in every conversation. 

He  liked her yesterday and two weeks before. He liked her when he woke up that morning and took extra time moisturizing his hair and patting careful sprays of his father’s expensive cologne on his neck. He liked her when they passed each other in the hallway and made silly faces en route to separate classes for first block. He even liked her when he sat down in Mr. Turner’s 5th period forensics class, waiting for her to join his side. 

So what was this new phenoment? 

What was this tightening in his lungs and quickening of his heart? Why did he feel so safe and seen without her ever acknowledging his presence in her pursuit of total domination? Was the absence of everyone but her a sign of something deeper or the result of sitting too close to the TV like his mother had warned about all those years? 

As big feelings overtook a starry-eyed young man discovering new information during his favorite science course to date, Patrice quietly pumped her fist and looked to him with a wide smile that rivaled the sun. “Light work,” she boasted while looking for his approval. “Isn’t that what you say during your sports ball thing or did I get it wrong?” 

“That was right,” he chuckled as nonchalantly as he could before raising his hand for a high five. “Good job, Treece. I really like being on your team.” 

Screwing her face, Patrice placed the back of her hand on his cheek. “Terry being nice before lunch? You must be sick.” Her knuckles searched for heat on his face, softly lulling his eyes closed for a moment to revel in her attention. “You ain’t warm. Maybe you finally realizing who’s really in charge over here.” 

Her snickering sounded like a symphony in the ears of a young boy slowly wading into grown man feelings. Terry smiled back at Patrice, totally ignoring lab instructions rattled off and children shuffled pages and prepared for 40 minutes of instruction. 

Dark pupils dilated inside green irises. The morning’s previous problems floated away into the ether to make way for unexplained happiness. Stress slid from newly broad shoulders, down his back, and out of the door to know him no longer. His cheeks flushed while the tips of his ears turned a new shade of red. Sweaty palms nearly left handprints on his jeans. Bright red strawberries knitted onto a pretty pink sweater filled gave way to perfectly smooth brown skin as Terry examined Patrice from head to toe once more. His heartbeat quickened to the beat of a thousand flutters in his belly at the sight of her small frown while she sat deep in thought. A beauty like no other.

This wasn’t like, or infatuation, or some thing called lust that his grandma often blamed for the sins of man. Something stronger had taken up residence in his heart. 

For the first time in his young life, he could call love by its name. Patrice.

—————-

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